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rpwprpwprpwprw · 2 days ago

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My day started off really well... I'm on holiday, I'm going to the beach and I'm going to read this incredible work while I rest under a tree listening to the sound of the sea... the blessings just keep coming. Besides that, the author is nothing more than one of the nicest and friendliest people I've ever met. A treasure to find in a world like this! So check out her work because she writes really well too! 💗🍽️

Strings Attached (to my heart)

→ Pairing : Spider-Man!Jungkook x F!Reader

→ Rating: Explicit, 18+.

→ SUMMARY : You were a journalist at Yonsei University when you started noticing the strange coincidences between your favorite bumbling freshman and Seoul's newest superhero. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when flustered. You tell yourself it's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.

→ TAGS : second person perspective used, female pronouns used, college au, spider-man au, noona kink, slight age gap (he’s 21, she’s 24ish), dry humping, virgin jungkook, first time, inexperienced jk, creaming his pants, sexual content, explicit content, library smut, clothed getting off, breast play, grinding, praise kink, crying during sex, crying after sex, embarrassment kink, humiliation kink, slight dom reader x sub jungkook, size difference, pining, jungkook has a big fat crush on you, secret identity, touch starved, protective jungkook, closet sexual activities, desperate jungkook, gentle domming, aftercare, emotional intimacy, fluff and smut, Korean setting, university setting, coming in pants, praise.

→ PLAYLIST: set the vibes.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 11.8k

→ A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to my first attempt at a Spidey!JK AU, where he somehow manages to be an even bigger mess than Peter Parker 😭. This story is very close to my heart because it dives into the dynamic between a confident noona and her adorably flustered freshman—who just so happens to be Seoul’s clumsy new superhero. To be honest, this Spiderkook oneshot was heavily inspired by Tangie, aka @rpwprpwprpwprw (love you bb!!!). I’d been lowkey daydreaming about Spiderkook for ages but thought, “Nah, that’s too silly.” Then I discovered there’s an entire community sharing the same brain cell as me??? Like, you’re welcome for my service, I guess?? Originally, this was supposed to be a short, smutty 5k romp. But do you think I can write smut without plot? I CAN’T. IT’S A MEDICAL CONDITION. Now it’s a 12k beast with feelings, webs, and chaos. Sorry (but not really). If you enjoy this, I might turn it into a mini-series because, let’s be honest, spider powers in… certain scenarios… sound very intriguing. Hihihi. Hope you enjoy this mess I’ve unleashed on the world! 🕸️

The thing about Spider-Man is that he reminds you too much of a certain freshman.

A freshman named Jeon Jungkook who keeps hovering around the journalism building with his messy hair and his wide eyes and his endless supply of convenience store snacks.

You've been telling yourself it's just a coincidence. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when they're flustered. It's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.

Maybe that's why you're hiding in August Coffee, your usual spot tucked away in one of Sinchon's winding side streets.

The late autumn breeze carries the scent of roasted coffee beans through the open window, and your laptop screen glows with half-finished articles and interview transcripts. Your notebook lies open beside a rapidly cooling americano while the café's jazz playlist provides a gentle backdrop to your furious typing. You're on a deadline for tomorrow's paper, and the last thing you need is—

A flash of red and blue swings past the window.

You pretend not to notice. Maybe if you focus hard enough on your screen, he'll take the hint and—

"Noona!"

—of course he doesn't.

There he is, hanging upside down outside the second-floor window, the eyes of his mask wide and eager. A plastic convenience store bag dangles from his hand, swaying in the autumn wind. Several patrons are already pulling out their phones, and you can feel your carefully cultivated productivity slipping away.

"No," you say firmly, not looking up from your laptop.

"But noona—" His voice cracks on the honorific, and you absolutely refuse to find it endearing. "I haven't even said anything yet!"

"I'm working." You take a pointed sip of your americano, grimacing when you realize it's gone cold. Perfect. "Some of us have actual responsibilities, Spider-Boy."

"I brought you snacks!" He awkwardly maneuvers through the window—you're not sure if the owner keeps it open for him specifically or if he's just that persistent. "You know, the ones you like with the matcha filling? The new ones from that fancy Japanese brand?"

You pause, fingers hovering over your keyboard. "How do you know I like the ones with matcha filling?"

"Uh—" Even through the mask, you can tell he's flustered. His hands fidget with the plastic bag. "Lucky guess? Not that I know you, noona. Uh, I mean, you look like a noona. Not that I know for a fact you're a noona—"

"Stop talking." You pinch the bridge of your nose, painfully aware of the phones still recording this interaction. This will definitely end up on some university Instagram page later. Again. "You're making it worse."

He deflates slightly, shoulders hunching in that familiar way that reminds you too much of a certain someone who keeps "accidentally" running into you at the journalism building. The same one who somehow always knows your coffee order and brings you snacks you oh so casually mention fancying—

No. You're not going there. You're not connecting those dots, because connecting those dots leads to complications you absolutely don't need in your final year.

"I can leave if you want," he offers, but he's already approaching, placing the snacks on your table with careful precision. "But you've been here for four hours, and you always forget to eat when you're working on a big story."

You stare at him. "How do you know how long I've been here?"

"I, uh—" His mask's eyes widen comically. "Spider-sense?"

"That's not how spider-sense works."

"You don't know how my spider-sense works! Maybe it's... hungry-noona-sense?"

A laugh escapes before you can stop it, and you quickly cover it with a cough. "That's the worst excuse you've come up with yet."

"Yet!" He perks up. "So you're keeping track?"

"Go away." You open the snack bag anyway, pretending not to notice how he straightens up eagerly when you do. "Don't you have a city to protect or something?"

"Seoul can handle itself for ten minutes while I make sure my favorite n—while I make sure hardworking journalists eat properly."

You raise an eyebrow at the slip, and he fidgets under your gaze. "Your favorite what?"

"Nothing! No one! Just, you know, doing my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man duties. Very friendly. Very neighborly. Nothing specific or personal about it at all."

You bite into one of the matcha-filled snacks—they're fresh, which means he must have bought them recently. Specifically for you. Just like how a certain freshman keeps bringing you fresh triangle kimbap from the convenience store near your morning lecture hall...

No. Stop it. You're not doing this.

"Sit down," you sigh, pushing the chair across from you out with your foot. "And stay quiet, or I’ll kick you out."

He practically collapses into the chair, bag already placed on the table. You notice his hands shaking slightly, and something in your chest tightens.

You shouldn't find it endearing. You really, really shouldn't.

But then again, you probably shouldn't find anything about this situation endearing — a masked vigilante bringing you sweets in the middle of your favorite cafe, stammering through excuses that sound exactly like the ones Jungkook uses when you catch him "accidentally" walking the same way as you after class.

You really need to stop noticing these things.

You try to refocus on your notes after that, but it's hard—mostly because Spider-Man is still sitting there. Quietly. Staring.

And not in a "just glancing around the cafe" kind of way, either. No, he's full-on watching you, eyes darting between the scribbles in your notebook, the crumbs on your plate, and, worst of all, your face. Like you're the most fascinating thing in the world. Like he's never seen someone drink a mediocre americano and type furiously into Google Docs before.

It goes on for five minutes. Five full, agonizing minutes of silence, punctuated only by the occasional click of your keyboard and the muted sounds of espresso machines in the background.

Finally, you sigh, your fingers pausing mid-typing. "Don't you have better stuff to do?"

"No." The response is immediate. Too immediate. His tone is absurdly casual, like the very idea that Spider-Man—the literal defender of Seoul—could have anything more important than sitting in August Coffee and bothering you is completely ridiculous.

You raise a brow, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "No supervillains to fight? No cats stuck in trees? Nothing?"

"Nope," he says, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Pretty quiet day."

You shake your head and turn your attention back to your laptop. "Must be nice."

There's a pause. You can feel him shifting in his seat, the chair creaking slightly under his weight, and when he speaks again, his voice is just shy of hesitant.

"How are the pastries? Do you like them?"

Your fingers freeze over your keyboard. Slowly, you turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes.

"You didn't spit in them, did you?"

"Wha—no!" he sputters, his whole posture stiffening in obvious horror. "Why—why would I—noona, I would never spit in your pastries!"

You let him sweat for a second longer, just to amuse yourself, before breaking into a small, satisfied smirk.

"Relax, Spider-Boy. I'm kidding." You reach for the bag of snacks he brought. "Yeah, they're good. Wanna try?"

His eyes widen a little—well, as much as they can through that mask—and he seems to hesitate, like he's not sure if you're serious or trying to bait him again. You wave one of the pastries in his direction. He glances at it, then back at you, before finally nodding.

"Okay. Yeah, sure."

You watch as he carefully rolls his mask up just to his nose, revealing his mouth for the first time. You don't know what you expected, but… it's a good mouth. Maybe annoyingly good, given how little you want to admit that very obvious fact to yourself. Full lips, slightly pink, with just the faintest hint of nervousness as he bites at his bottom lip before leaning forward.

He takes a bite of the pastry you're holding out to him, and the pleased groan he lets out immediately makes you regret offering him anything at all.

"God, that's delicious," he mumbles around his mouthful, crumbs falling onto his suit. He barely finishes chewing before continuing. "Now I know why you like them so much. I mean—why people say they're so good. Not you specifically. Just, you know, people."

You snort, shaking your head as you turn back to your laptop. "You're a terrible liar."

"And you're a terrible bossy noona," he mutters, mostly to himself, stuffing the rest of the pastry into his mouth before leaning back in his chair.

You're about to toss another sarcastic remark his way when something catches your eye. Or, more specifically, half of something. A small smudge of green—matcha filling, you realize—lingering on the corner of his mouth.

It's instinctive, the way your hand moves—completely unthinking, like muscle memory kicking in before your brain has a chance to catch up. One moment, you're perfectly stationary in your seat; the next, your thumb is brushing against his lip, swiping the smudge away with a gentle, practiced motion.

He startles at the touch, his whole body jerking slightly as his eyes snap to yours. And then, just like that, reality crashes back in.

Your hand freezes midair.

His mouth parts for half a second, like he's about to say something, but then his tongue darts out—slow, deliberate—to lick the exact spot your thumb had just brushed.

You snatch your hand back like you've been burned, your face heating despite yourself.

The silence that follows is awful. Deafening. Inescapable.

He shifts in his chair, his eyes flickering to the table, then back to you, then down again. He clears his throat—once, then twice—before adjusting the edge of his suit with what you can only describe as frantic energy.

"So… uh…" His voice is tight. Way tighter than usual, cracking slightly on the first syllable. "Thanks for that. The, uh. The whole… lip thing. That was. Uh. Cool."

You blink at him, deadpan. "Cool?"

"Yeah. Cool. Totally normal and cool. Happens all the time. Super casual."

If you weren't so flustered yourself, you'd have laughed at the way he's fidgeting in his seat, his hands gripping his thighs under the table like he's trying not to explode.

"Right," you say slowly, leaning back in your chair. "Casual."

"Exactly."

He nods a little too enthusiastically, and you notice his knees bumping against each other under the table before he quickly crosses his legs. His hands drop to his lap almost immediately after, like he's trying to adjust the spandex near his thighs.

Your gaze is momentarily drawn there before—

"Anyway!" The word comes out nearly an octave higher than it should. He's already standing—or, more accurately, bolting to his feet—his hands still awkwardly hovering in front of him. "I should, uh, get going! Supervillains don't wait, you know? Gotta, uh… save the people of Seoul. Yeah. Big hero stuff."

You stare at him, unblinking, as he starts inching toward the door. "Uh-huh."

"Thanks for the pastries, noona! Great talk, as always!" He clears his throat again, audibly struggling to keep his voice steady. "Okay! Bye!"

And then he's gone, practically sprinting out of the cafe before he can embarrass himself any further.

You sit there for a long moment, still frozen, your brain catching up to what just happened. Then, slowly, you reach for another pastry.

Whatever just happened? Definitely not your problem.

"I'm such a fucking idiot."

Jungkook's voice is muffled by his hands, currently covering his face in what can only be described as unrelenting shame. He's lying on Jimin's couch, legs splayed out haphazardly, the picture of a man defeated by his own existence.

Across the room, Jimin raises an eyebrow, lazily popping another chip into his mouth. The bag crinkles loudly, much to Jungkook's dismay. "It's not that bad, Kooks. She probably didn't even notice."

Jungkook groans, dragging his hands down his face until his eyes peek out dramatically between his fingers. "She 100% noticed. It was—like—a five-minute interaction. FIVE minutes, and I made it weird. Now she's gonna think I'm a fucking weirdo and a creep."

Jimin doesn't even try to hide the snort that escapes him, his expression somewhere between entertained and unimpressed. "Yeah, because stalking her as Spider-Man didn't have her thinking that already."

Jungkook bolts upright on the couch, eyes wide with panic. "She told you that?!"

Jimin chokes on his chip, wheezing as he waves his hand for Jungkook to calm down. "No! Shit, man, calm down. I'm just saying. Like, I guess? I mean, you do kind of… hover. A lot."

"I don't hover," Jungkook protests, indignant. But even as the words leave his mouth, he hesitates. "Do I hover?"

Jimin gives him a look.

Jungkook groans again, flopping back onto the couch like his limbs have given up on life. "Oh my god, you're right. I hover. I'm that guy. And now it's worse because who the fuck pops a boner from someone—" He pauses, embarrassingly aware of the words about to leave his mouth. "—touching their lip? What is wrong with me? I must be insane. She must think I'm insane."

Jimin, now thoroughly entertained, leans back in his chair with his bag of chips, one leg crossed over the other. "I mean... it's not great," he says unhelpfully, though there's a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jungkook lets out a strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and buries his face back into his hands. "She's never gonna look at me the same. I probably freaked her out. GOD, she's gonna think I'm some kind of pervert. Or—worse—she's gonna avoid me completely now. And then I'll never see her again. And then—"

"Okay, okay," Jimin interrupts, holding up a hand to stop whatever spiral Jungkook's about to drag them into. "First of all, she offered to share her snack with you, so I don't think she's avoiding you anytime soon."

"But that was BEFORE—"

"Second of all," Jimin continues loudly, ignoring Jungkook's interjection, "maybe just... stop calling her 'noona' every chance you get? It's not helping your case."

Jungkook frowns, peeking out from behind his fingers again. "What's wrong with calling her noona? That's respectful!"

"Yeah, but it's also kinda... you know," Jimin winces, waving a hand vaguely. "Weird, coming from you. Like, you're already bumbling around her like a lost golden retriever. Adding 'noona' into the mix just makes you look—what's the word?"

"Adorable?" Jungkook tries hopefully.

"Pathetic," Jimin finishes, deadpan.

Jungkook groans for what feels like the millionth time, throwing his head against the couch cushion. "Why do I even talk to you? You're supposed to make me feel better, hyung. Not worse."

"Hey, I'm here for the truth," Jimin says, pointing at him with a chip in hand. "You want a cheerleader, go call Taehyung."

"Taehyung's just gonna laugh at me," Jungkook mutters into the cushion.

"And yet, you're shocked I'm doing it too."

Jungkook mumbles something unintelligible, his face half-smashed into the cushion now as he replays every excruciating detail of his interaction with you earlier. The way your thumb had brushed his lip. The way he'd immediately been unable to control the—well, reaction. The way he'd panicked like an idiot, stammered something incomprehensible, and practically bolted out of the cafe without even finishing his sentence.

"Kill me," he says dramatically, still face-down in the cushion. "Just end me. I can't show my face again."

Jimin laughs, leaning forward to pat Jungkook's shoulder in a way that's more mocking than comforting. "Relax, man. You'll survive. Just... maybe keep your hormones in check next time, yeah?"

Jungkook flips him off blindly, his hand waving somewhere above his head.

"Love you too, Spider-Menace," Jimin quips, taking another chip like this is the best entertainment he's had all week.

The crunching sound of Jimin biting into another chip is loud enough to make Jungkook groan into the couch again. "Do you ever stop eating?" Jungkook mutters, his voice muffled by the cushion.

Jimin raises an eyebrow, unbothered, and is about to throw a smartass reply back when his phone buzzes on the coffee table. He glances at the screen, sees Taehyung's name, and shrugs, casually placing the phone between his shoulder and ear as he picks up without pausing his snacking.

"What's up?" Jimin hums lazily, chips still in hand, completely ignoring Jungkook's existential crisis unfolding just feet away from him.

Jungkook's ears perk up despite himself—because why else would Taehyung be calling Jimin right now? He lifts his head just enough to peek over the cushion, his hair mussed and sticking up in odd directions.

Jimin's expression doesn't change at first, eyes still fixated on the bag of chips in his lap as he listens. "Yeah, he's with me," he says vaguely, gesturing aimlessly toward Jungkook, who frowns at being referred to like some stray dog Jimin found.

But then Jimin freezes. His chewing slows. His eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline as Taehyung says something that causes him to do a violent double take at Jungkook.

"What?" Jimin coughs, choking on the chip he was mid-swallow. He pounds his chest a little before leaning forward sharply. "He—what? What, what, what—? Tae, calm down—!"

"What's going on?" Jungkook asks, sitting up now, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at Jimin's sudden change in tone.

Jimin waves him off with a quick flick of his hand, signaling for him to shut up. "No, yeah. Yeah, no, I know," Jimin mumbles into the phone, his tone getting increasingly more exasperated as he listens. "Tae—okay? Can you just—okay?"

"What's wrong??" Jungkook asks again, panic creeping into his voice. He hates not knowing what's going on, especially when Jimin looks... concerned? Flustered? Whatever it is, it's not good.

Jimin twists his head toward Jungkook, eyes narrowing as he motions aggressively with his entire head for Jungkook to shut the hell up.

"Okay, let me— what? You wanna talk to him?" Jimin repeats, his voice pitching higher in disbelief. "Oh, now you wanna talk to him? Fine! Okay, okay, okay, here."

Before Jungkook can process what's happening, Jimin is all but shoving his phone into Jungkook's hands, plunking the bag of chips onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.

"Take it," Jimin mutters, irritation bleeding into his tone.

"Wait, why do I have to—"

"Take it," Jimin repeats, louder this time, his hand already retreating as he grabs another chip to munch on, clearly done with whatever chaos Taehyung just unloaded on him.

Jungkook swallows nervously, holding the phone to his ear as Taehyung's voice immediately fills it in a panicked rush.

"Jungkook! Oh my god, dude, you're not gonna believe this—" Taehyung starts, and Jungkook feels his entire stomach plummet before Taehyung can even finish his sentence.

"Believe what?" Jungkook half-yells into the phone, his voice cracking just slightly at the end, betraying the anxiety bubbling under his skin.

"Don't freak out," Taehyung begins, which, of course, makes Jungkook's blood pressure shoot straight through the roof. His knuckles grip Jimin's phone tightly, and he shares a panicked look with Jimin, who's now leaning against the coffee table with a chip halfway to his mouth, watching the scene unfold like it's prime-time drama.

"I'm already freaking out, hyung! Just tell me!" Jungkook demands, pacing the room like a caged animal.

"Okay, so," Taehyung starts again, and Jungkook can hear the smirk in his voice, which immediately makes him want to fling the phone out the window. "You know Y/N, yeah?"

"Do I—what do you mean, 'do I know Y/N'?! Of course I know—just get to the point!" Jungkook's frustration is mounting by the second. He's wound so tight he feels like a single flick might send him spiraling.

"Okay, Mr. Touchy," Taehyung says innocently, and Jungkook can practically see him holding back a laugh wherever he is. "So, uh… apparently, she's been asking questions."

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. His heart lurches in a way that makes his hands clammy against the phone. "Questions?" he repeats, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Taehyung continues, tone far too blasé for Jungkook's liking. "You know, like... about Spider-Man."

Jungkook swears his brain short-circuits. For a second, all he hears is static, like every neuron in his head has collectively stopped firing.

"...What kind of questions?" he asks quietly, his voice taking on an edge that immediately grabs Jimin's attention.

"Oh, you know." Taehyung's voice is light, purposefully teasing. "Like, how he seems to always show up when she's around, or how he just happens to bring her favorite snacks, or—oh, this one's my favorite—how his voice cracks exactly like a certain freshman she knows at Yonsei."

Jungkook's knees buckle, and he collapses back onto the couch like his strings have been cut. Jimin is now openly laughing, clutching his stomach with one hand while pointing at Jungkook with the other.

"She—oh my god," Jungkook mutters into the phone, his free hand running through his hair in frantic tugs. "She knows. She knows, doesn't she? I'm so fucked."

"Hey, hey, calm down!" Taehyung says hurriedly, though his voice is still laced with amusement. "She doesn't know know. I mean, I don't think so. She's not like, accusing you or anything. Just... putting pieces together. Y'know, connecting dots."

"Connecting dots?!" Jungkook hisses, his chest tightening as his worst nightmare begins to unfold in real time. "Do you have any idea how many dots there ARE, hyung?! I'm like a walking... dot-factory!"

Jimin absolutely loses it, doubling over in laughter as crumbs from his chips scatter across the floor.

"Okay, Kook, you need to calm down," Taehyung says, though his tone suggests he's also suppressing a laugh. "She's just curious, that's all. You know how Y/N is. She's a journalist. She's always sniffing around for a good story, right?"

"She doesn't need THIS story!" Jungkook yells, his hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. "Oh my god, what if she writes about it? What if she—what if it ENDS UP IN THE SCHOOL PAPER?!"

"Relax, relax, relax," Taehyung says in quick succession, his voice almost soothing now. "She's not gonna write about it. I don't think she'd do that to you... unless, you know, you give her a reason to."

Jungkook groans, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands again. "I'm so dead. She's gonna out me. My life is over. My life is literally over."

"Hyung," Jimin finally pipes up, gasping for air as he wipes away a tear from laughing too hard. "Tell him to just confess already. At this rate, she'll figure it out before he ever grows the balls to tell her himself."

"Confess?" Jungkook sputters, jerking his head up to glare at Jimin. "Are you insane?! You want me to walk up to her and go, 'Hey, Y/N, funny thing—remember how you thought I was stalking you? Well, surprise! I was, but it's okay because I'm Spider-Man!' That's your plan?!"

Jimin shrugs, smirking as he tosses a chip into his mouth. "Worked for Andrew Garfield."

"THIS IS NOT A MOVIE!"

Taehyung's laugh echoes through the phone, loud and clear. "Oh man, I wish I was there to see this meltdown in person. Seriously, Kook, stop freaking out. Just... play it cool, okay? She doesn't know anything for sure. Yet."

"Yet?!" Jungkook exclaims, horror-struck.

"Gotta go!" Taehyung says way too quickly, the call disconnecting before Jungkook can yell at him further.

Jungkook stares at the phone in disbelief, his chest heaving as Jimin's smug laughter reverberates in the background.

"Cool," Jimin repeats mockingly, curving his lips. "Yeah, Kook, just play it cool. You're so good at that."

Jungkook groans, tossing the phone onto the couch and collapsing after it. "I need new friends."

"You love us," Jimin chirps, reaching for another chip.

Jungkook screams into the pillow.

You were expecting something, anything, really. A subtle slip-up. A sheepish confession. Hell, maybe even some stammering and nervous sweating.

But the moment you confronted Taehyung—cornered him, really, by the vending machine in the student lounge—and the words "Do you know if Jungkook's Spider-Man?" left your mouth, all he did was cackle. Loudly. Mockingly. Like a full-on villain in a Saturday morning cartoon.

"Spider-Man?" he wheezed, doubling over and clutching his stomach like you'd just told him the funniest joke in existence. "Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook? Noona, you're joking, right?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by how visceral his reaction was. "No. I'm not joking," you said stiffly, crossing your arms. "What's so funny about it?"

Taehyung straightened up, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye as he glanced at you with barely contained amusement. "Do you know Jungkook? Like, know him? Because that kid has two left feet. I've literally seen him trip over air. How would he even swing that gracefully?"

For a brief, fleeting moment, you felt the smallest hitch in your resolve. Because, well, the evidence did kind of contradict itself, didn't it? Jungkook is clumsy sometimes. That much is true. You've seen him knock over a whole stack of textbooks just trying to nod hello at you in the hallway. He once walked into a doorframe because he was too busy staring at his phone.

Spider-Man, by comparison, is supposed to be graceful. Quick. Precise. Not... whatever it is Jungkook embodies most of the time.

But then you think about the stupid coffee shop incident. The way Spider-Man stammered and fidgeted and tripped over his words like a nervous wreck. The way he dropped his entire cool superhero persona when he handed you those damn matcha pastries. He wasn't exactly graceful then, was he?

And okay, let's talk about those pastries for a second. Because the more you think about them, the more your brain starts spinning. You distinctly remember mentioning them once—to Eunjae, over lunch in the cafeteria, weeks ago. How the hell would Spider-Man know about them if he wasn't there to overhear?

You frown, chewing on the inside of your cheek as the pieces start stacking themselves again in your head. Jungkook might be clumsy, sure. But Spider-Man was clumsy too. At least, that day he was. And the matcha pastries aren't just a coincidence. They can't be.

Your inner spiral is abruptly interrupted by a bright, familiar voice calling out behind you.

"Noona!"

You whirl around at the sound like a guilty kid caught stealing candy, heart practically leaping into your throat because you know that voice anywhere. And there he is, the devil himself—Jeon Jungkook, all floppy hair and dumbly wide grin, bounding toward you like an overexcited golden retriever.

He sidesteps a couple of students in his path, his long legs moving with just a little too much energy. Honestly, it's a miracle he doesn't trip.

"I brought you these!" he announces, holding up a plastic bag like it's some kind of trophy. His grin stretches so wide it practically touches his ears, and you hate that your first thought is how stupidly adorable he looks.

Stupid, you think, swiping the bag from his hand. Not adorable. Definitely not adorable. You're sure of it.

Peeking inside, your brows furrow. "Hotteok?"

Jungkook presses his lips together, humming as he nods eagerly. "Yeah! You—" His smile falters just a touch. "You don't like it?"

The way his face drops shouldn't make you feel so guilty, but it does, and it's annoying. "No, uh, I mean…" You struggle for the right words, because… hotteok? Really? You'd been expecting the matcha pastries again. This feels almost purposeful—like he's playing dumb. Is he? Or is this proof that you've been completely off base this whole time?

You're overthinking again. Shaking your head, you wave off the thought entirely. "Yeah, thank you, Jungkook-ah," you mutter, tone softer than you mean it to be.

The banmal slips out without much thought, but the effect it has is immediate. His eyes go wide, and then his whole face lights up in the kind of beam that makes you want to smack yourself for fueling his enthusiasm.

"This is the first time you dropped honorifics with me," he says, looking downright gleeful.

You clench the bag a little tighter and wish you could hate him. Why is he so excited over something so small? Why does it make your chest feel weirdly tight? And why is it so hard to stay annoyed at him when he looks at you like that?

God, this kid.

"Don't get used to it," you mutter gruffly, turning away before the growing warmth in your cheeks betrays you completely.

"So," he begins, falling into step beside you as you start walking toward the journalism building. "What are your plans for today?"

You don't respond. Not out of spite or anything—you're just not in the mood to entertain whatever puppy-dog energy he's radiating right now.

"Writing notes?" he prompts, glancing sideways at you, his tone just a little too hopeful for your liking.

Still, you say nothing.

"Coffee?"

Nope.

"Gonna catch leads for Spider-Man's identity?"

That one makes you stop dead in your tracks. You whirl around so fast he nearly collides with you, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. "Huh?"

His eyes widen marginally, mouth opening and closing like he's trying to come up with a quick excuse. "Taehyung told me!" he blurts, the words tumbling out in a rush.

For a second, you just stare at him, blinking once, then twice. "Huh," you reply, eyebrows quirking upward.

"Yeah!" he adds, voice pitching slightly higher, probably in an effort to sound casual. "He said you were, uh, investigating? Like, Spider-Man and all that? You know, trying to figure out who he is?"

Your head tilts as you study him, arms crossing instinctively. "Did he now?"

"Uh-huh," he nods enthusiastically, though the way his hand rubs at the back of his neck gives him away almost immediately. "I mean, not that I think that's, like, bad or anything? It's cool! Totally cool! I mean, you're a journalist, so, like, it's your job, right? Investigating stuff and—"

"Jungkook."

He freezes, looking way too much like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

"Why," you ask, narrowing your eyes just slightly, "do you sound like you're trying to convince me not to?"

"I-I'm not! I'm not," he stammers, waving his hands frantically. "I was just, you know, saying! Like, uh, if anyone were trying to find his identity, it'd definitely be you because, uh… you're smart? And observant? And not at all easy to fool?"

Your brow arches higher, his stream of nervous compliments only fueling the suspicion building in your chest.

"Right," you say slowly, dragging out the word as you step closer, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs nervously when your gaze meets his. "So hypothetically…"

"H-Hypothetically," he squeaks, leaning back like he's mentally bracing himself for whatever's coming next.

"If I was trying to find out who Spider-Man is," you continue, voice calm and steady, "you wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, now would you?"

The way he freezes, body rigid and eyes darting everywhere but at you, would be funny if it weren't so telling. The sheer panic written all over his face is practically criminal.

"I—uh—no? N-No. Definitely not," he stammers, the pitch of his voice betraying him entirely. "W-Why would I have anything to do with that? I'm just a freshman! I don't even know Spider-Man! I mean, who even is Spider-Man? Could be anyone, right? Crazy world we live in, haha…"

You take a moment to just stare at him, fighting the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might actually get stuck. "Right," you deadpan, turning on your heel to start walking again.

Jungkook exhales audibly behind you, feet scrambling to catch up. "Y-Yeah, right! That's what I thought too!" he says quickly, clearly desperate to steer the conversation in another direction. "Anyway, uh, where were we? Oh! Notes! Are you writing notes today, noona?"

You don't respond. Again. Mostly because you're too busy replaying his very suspicious reaction over and over in your head like a mental highlight reel.

Yeah… no way this kid isn't up to something.

You keep walking, your steps steady, purposeful. Jungkook, as always, trots along beside you like he's afraid you might disappear if he doesn't keep up. And unlike you, who values peace and quiet, Jungkook doesn't seem to understand the concept of shutting up.

"So, like, I was thinking," he starts, voice bright and eager. "If Spider-Man's around all the time, do you think he lives nearby? Like, maybe he's a uni student? Or—or maybe he's secretly a professor? Oh my god, imagine Professor Kim as Spider-Man—he'd probably web someone for being late to class, right? Oh, oh, or he'd use his powers to booby-trap the lecture hall if we don't submit our midterms on time! Haha—what do you think, noona?"

You don't answer.

"And have you noticed he wears, like, the same colors as Yonsei's? Like, blue and red? Do you think that's on purpose? Maybe he's trying to rep the school spirit! Or maybe he's trying to throw us off! Who knows, right? I mean, what's your theory? You must have a theory—you're always so smart about these things—"

"Jungkook," you interject, your voice flat as you stop abruptly in your tracks. He almost trips trying to halt beside you, blinking wide-eyed like he didn't expect you to actually respond.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you have class?" You ask, turning your head just enough for him to see the pointed look you're giving him.

He licks his lips, and you know he's about to lie before the words even leave his mouth. "No?"

"Liar," you deadpan, already turning back to face forward.

"You know my schedule?" he shoots back, voice teasing as he trails after you again.

You roll your eyes but don't give him the satisfaction of a retort. If you respond, he'll just milk it—probably tease you further, or worse, distract you with another string of nonsense questions about Spider-Man. No, you're better off ignoring him.

So, you keep walking. He keeps rambling.

And then—

The sound of a bus engine roaring down the street takes you off guard. You don't even register the rush of movement until it's too late.

Suddenly, there's a firm pressure against your shoulders, and you're stumbling—but not forward, no—backward. Stumbling directly into Jungkook's chest, his arms bracketing your body like they're the only thing stopping you from tumbling straight into the pavement.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding against your ribs. You freeze, blinking up at him in shock. "What the—"

He's close. Too close. His face hovers just inches from yours, his expression wide-eyed and… strained.

"Are you okay?" he blurts, his voice laced with breathless concern like he's just sprinted a marathon.

You don't answer. You can't answer. Because all you can think about is how the hell he even managed to grab you like that.

He was five meters away. Five meters away, Jungkook. There's no way he could've—

"What the fuck," you murmur under your breath, your mind racing a mile a minute as you shove yourself upright, still staring at him like he's grown a second head. "How—when—how the fuck did you just—"

"It was nothing!" he rushes out, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence. His voice cracks, and he's already letting go of you, stepping back like he's afraid of the scrutiny in your eyes. "I-I mean, reflexes? Adrenaline? Fight or flight? Haha…"

You narrow your eyes, suspicious once again. "…Right."

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red. "Yeah, uh… it's all good. You're fine, right? Totally fine! So, uh… should we—keep walking? Yep, let's keep walking!"

He starts to turn away again, clearly desperate to move on, but you don't budge. You're too busy trying to piece together what just happened, trying to figure out how Jungkook keeps doing things that defy all logic and common sense.

And that's when it hits you.

Spider-Man. Fast reflexes. The ability to move like that without warning. You glance down at his feet, planted firmly on the ground, and then back up at his sheepish grin.

No fucking way.

"I'm leaving."

"No—come on, Tae, you promised!" Jungkook whines, clutching at Taehyung's shoulder like a child trying to stop his older sibling from walking out the door.

Taehyung stops mid-stride, turning to glare at him with an expression that's this close to murderous. "I promised you I'd study with you at the library," he hisses. "Not that we'd come here so you can sit there and drool all over her."

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide. "I—what?!"

"You heard me," Taehyung deadpans, shoving Jungkook's hand off his shoulder.

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Jungkook mumbles, feigning innocence as he suddenly averts his gaze.

Taehyung rolls his eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't get stuck. "Kook, you've been staring at her table since we walked in. Don't even try to deny it."

"I—have not!" Jungkook protests, voice pitching just slightly higher than normal. His head jerks around, and of course his eyes instinctively flicker to your table. The one three meters to the left. The one where you're currently sitting, completely engrossed in your notes, pencil moving methodically across the page like it's the only thing that matters in the world.

You're breathtaking. Ethereal. Like a beam of light in the dull, dusty gloom of the library.

And honestly, Jungkook's not even sure why he's into you. Okay, maybe he's a little sure. Or a lot. But that's not the point—the point is—he is definitely not staring. Not staring, not drooling. Definitely.

"You're doing it right now, man," Taehyung mutters, arms crossed.

"I'm not!"

"You are."

"I'm not! It's just—" Jungkook swallows, gesturing vaguely in your direction. "I was just… checking out the table. It's a nice table! Good wood quality, sturdy legs. The craftsmanship is—"

"Good wood quality?" Taehyung repeats, staring at him like he's lost his mind.

Jungkook groans, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Okay! Maybe I glanced at her for a second. It's not a crime, hyung!"

Taehyung lets out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's already regretting his life choices. "I am so done with you," he mutters. But even as the words leave his mouth, he walks toward one of the tables anyway and plops his bag down into one of the vacant chairs.

"Sit," he grumbles, motioning vaguely to the chair across from him. "And don't make me regret this."

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice. He practically trips over himself as he sits, trying to act cool and not-at-all-focused on the fact that you're sitting so close. So close that he can see the faint furrow in your brow as you concentrate, or the way you absentmindedly tap the end of your pencil against your notebook.

He's not staring. Definitely not staring. Probably.

"You're staring again," Taehyung says flatly, not even bothering to look up from his own notes.

"No, I'm not!" Jungkook hisses, slouching lower in his chair.

Taehyung snorts. "Okay, Mr. 'Good Wood Quality.' Sure."

Jungkook tries. He really does. He's here to study—or at least, he's here to pretend to study—and he's determined to do something productive. Something library-like. Something that doesn't involve spending the entire time sneaking glances at you like some lovesick idiot.

So, step one: grab a book. Easy. People in libraries read books, right? He can do that. Simple.

He meanders through the shelves, grabbing the first book that catches his eye. He doesn't even check the title. Doesn't matter. A book's a book.

Step two: sit down. Done. Chair, occupied. Book, open.

Step three: look at the book like he's actually reading it.

He squints at the text, hoping his brain will absorb something through sheer willpower because god knows his mind sure as hell isn't cooperating right now. Every five seconds, it drifts back to the table three meters away, where you're still sitting, still taking notes, still looking unfairly... breathtaking.

"Jungkook," Taehyung mutters, his voice barely above a grumble as he glances up from his own book. "Why the fuck are you reading that?"

"What?" Jungkook blinks, startled, then looks down at the book in his hands for the first time.

Advanced Theoretical Physics.

Oh.

"You don't even study physics," Taehyung points out flatly, his tone dripping with judgment.

Jungkook flushes, slamming the book shut and fumbling to shove it under the table. "I—uh—thought it looked interesting."

Taehyung stares at him. "Sure you did."

Before Jungkook can come up with anything to salvage what's left of his dignity, you—of all people—decide to stand up, and all the air in Jungkook's lungs promptly decides to leave with you.

Oh, god. You're moving. Why are you moving? Where are you going? Should he say something? Should he act casual? Should he—

You shift slightly, gathering your things, and suddenly Jungkook's heart is doing this weird thing where it's racing and stuttering and flipping over itself, and now his body is moving before his brain can even think to stop it.

"Gotta go," he blurts, practically tripping over his chair as he bolts to his feet. "To the bathroom. I have to—pee. Yeah, really super really need to pee right now. See you in a bit!"

Taehyung looks up, stunned, as Jungkook all but sprints toward the library exit. "What the—wait—"

But Jungkook's already halfway across the library, muttering curses under his breath as he tries not to make it obvious that he's absolutely not going to the bathroom.

Taehyung sighs deeply, dragging a hand down his face before muttering to himself, "He's gonna get us banned from this place, isn't he?"

Jungkook's halfway to the library exit, heart pounding, when he realizes something odd.

You're not heading to the exit.

You're not even walking toward the bathroom.

He skids to a stop, trying very hard to play it cool, to act like he's not absolutely clocking your every move. His hands find their way into his hoodie pocket as he leans against the nearest bookshelf, pretending to scan the titles like he's not also sneaking glances at you over his shoulder.

Okay, so you're not leaving. That's fine. Totally normal. You're just… heading deeper into the library. Toward some distant corner, weaving past tables and shelves like you've got some secret mission.

And Jungkook? Jungkook is absolutely not a stalker. He's not. He's just curious. That's it. Normal behavior. Normal library behavior for a normal freshman.

Totally not unhinged.

But then you disappear behind a bookshelf, and his feet are moving before his brain can step on the brakes.

He follows, not too fast—just casual-like. Normal person stuff. Nothing suspicious. His eyes dart between shelves as he tries to spot where you went, his stomach doing this weird twisty thing that's part nerves, part excitement, part oh-god-why-am-I-like-this anxiety.

And just when he thinks he's catching up, just when he rounds the corner of yet another shelf and is about to spot you—

Yank.

Jungkook barely has time to register what's happening before soft hands grab him by the hoodie and pull him into a small, cramped room. His back bumps into something solid—he thinks it's the door—and suddenly you're standing right there, close enough that he can see every detail of your face, from the faint line of concentration on your forehead to the subtle curl of your lips as you exhale sharply.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

"You," you exhale, your voice sharp but quiet. "Have some explaining to do, young mister."

Jungkook's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His brain is short-circuiting, sparking like a broken circuit board, because—how? Why? When? What?

"I—uh—I—what?" he stammers, blinking rapidly as his eyes dart around the tiny supply closet you've dragged him into. It's all brooms and cleaning supplies and the faint smell of lemon disinfectant, and holy fuck, it is too small in here. You're too close.

"Don't play dumb," you mutter, arms crossing as you lean back just slightly—not enough to give him actual breathing room, but enough to make him feel like he's being scrutinized under a microscope. "You've been acting… weird."

"Weird?" He squeaks, his voice cracking embarrassingly. "Me? Weird? No, I'm not weird! I'm—uh—normal! Super normal! The most normal person ever!"

Your brow arches, the skepticism written all over your face making his knees weak. "Normal people don't act like they've got something to hide," you reply evenly.

"I don't have anything to hide!" he says way too quickly, voice pitching high again.

You don't look convinced. Not one bit.

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as he tries to come up with an excuse, a cover, a way to escape both this tiny-ass room and the weight of your accusing gaze.

But all he can think about is how close you are. How your voice sounds louder in this little space. How your shampoo smells faintly like citrus. How utterly and completely trapped he feels—not just against the door, but under the intensity of your stare.

And he's so screwed. So screwed.

"The bus thing," you say, and Jungkook feels his entire soul leave his body for approximately three seconds before crash-landing right back into his chest with a painful thud.

"What bus thing?" he asks, trying for innocent confusion, but his voice comes out more like a strangled whisper. "There are lots of bus things. Buses are everywhere. Seoul's public transport system is very efficient and—"

"Three days ago," you cut him off, eyes narrowing. "When I almost got hit."

Oh.

Oh fuck.

The memory hits him like a freight train. Three days ago. That stupid bus driver who didn't see you crossing. The way his heart had stopped dead in his chest when he realized you were about to—and he'd just—without thinking—

He'd used his webs.

On you.

In broad daylight.

As Jungkook.

Not Spider-Man.

Just... regular freshman Jeon Jungkook, who definitely shouldn't have access to web-shooters or superhuman reflexes or the ability to yank someone out of harm's way from five meters away.

"I don't—" he starts, but his mouth is dry, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth. "That was just—"

"Just what?" you press, leaning closer. "Just adrenaline? Just reflexes? Just another totally normal thing that totally normal freshmen do?"

"Yes?" he squeaks, pressing himself further against the shelf on his back like he might somehow phase through it if he tries hard enough.

Your eyes narrow further. "Really."

"Really!" He nods frantically. "I mean, haven't you heard those stories? About moms lifting cars off their kids? Same thing! Totally the same thing. Chemistry major stuff. Very scientific. Fight or flight response. Cortisol. Adrenaline. Biology... things."

"You're not a chemistry major."

"I could be!"

"You're in communications."

"...Minor in chemistry?"

You stare at him for a long moment, and Jungkook swears he can feel sweat beginning to bead at the back of his neck. This closet is too small. The air is too thick. You're too close, and your eyes are too sharp, and oh god, he's really messed up this time hasn't he?

"Jungkook," you say, voice low and steady. "How exactly did you pull me away from that bus?"

"I... ran really fast?"

"You were five meters away."

"I'm... very athletic?"

"Five meters, Jungkook."

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Would you believe me if I said I've been working out?"

The look you give him could probably melt steel. "Try again."

"Yoga?"

"Jungkook."

"Pilates?"

You lean even closer, if that's possible, and Jungkook's pretty sure his heart is about to explode right out of his chest. "One more chance," you murmur. "Tell me the truth."

And god, he wants to. He really, really wants to. Because you're right there, looking at him with those eyes that see right through him, and he's tired of lying, tired of pretending, tired of—

"I just..." he starts, voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't let you get hurt."

Your expression softens, just slightly, but your gaze remains unwavering. "How did you do it?"

"I—"

Just as Jungkook's about to bolt, there's a distinct click that makes both of you freeze.

"What the—?" You whirl around, pushing past him to grab the handle. It doesn't budge. You try again, yanking harder this time. Nothing.

"You must be fucking kidding me," you mutter under your breath, jiggling the handle with increasing frustration.

And that's when Jungkook realizes several things at once:

1. Someone's locked you two in.

2. The closet is tiny.

3. You're pressed up against him trying to open the door.

4. Your ass is—

Oh god.

This cannot be happening. Not again. Not after the coffee shop incident. Not after he literally had to swing away to deal with his... situation.

"Fuck," he breathes, trying to press himself further into the piece of furniture behind him, but there's nowhere to go. The shelves dig into his back as he attempts to create even an inch of space between your bodies.

His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, not daring to touch you, not daring to move. His breath catches in his throat as you shift again, still wrestling with the door handle, completely oblivious to the way each movement sends sparks of electricity through his entire body.

"Hey!" you call out, banging on the door. "This isn't funny!"

Focus on something else, Jungkook tells himself desperately. Anything else. Math. Chemistry. Professor Kim's boring lectures. That time Jimin ate an entire jar of kimchi and—

You shift again, and Jungkook has to bite his lip to suppress a strangled noise.

"Seriously," you growl, hitting the door again. "Whoever's out there better unlock this right now or I swear to god—"

Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts. Dead puppies. Tax forms. Spidey suit chafing. Anything but how soft you feel against—

"Jungkook?" Your voice cuts through his desperate mental gymnastics. "You okay? You're breathing kind of weird."

"Fine!" he squeaks, voice way too high to be convincing. "Totally fine! Just, uh... claustrophobic! Very claustrophobic. Super claustrophobic. Did I mention I'm claustrophobic?"

You turn your head slightly, and even in the dim light, he can see your brow furrow. "Since when?"

"Since... right now?"

Another shift of your hips as you try the handle again, and Jungkook has to close his eyes, silently praying to whatever deity might be listening to either kill him now or get him out of this situation before he combusts from sheer embarrassment.

Because if you notice... if you realize... oh god, he'll never live it down. He'll have to transfer schools. Change his name. Move to a different country. Become a hermit in the mountains where no one will ever find him—

"Can you try pushing while I pull?" you ask, completely unaware of his internal crisis.

Jungkook makes a sound that might be agreement, might be distress, might be his soul leaving his body. He's not really sure anymore.

All he knows is that he's trapped in a closet with you, with your body pressed against his, and his spidey-sense is absolutely no help because apparently it doesn't warn him about situations that might kill him from pure mortification.

"Jungkook?" you prompt again, and he realizes he hasn't moved to help with the door.

"Right!" he says quickly, voice cracking. "Sorry! Just... give me a second to... uh... mentally prepare."

You snort. "For pushing a door?"

"Yes," he says weakly, because what else can he say? 'Sorry, I need a minute because you feel too good pressed against me and I'm trying very hard not to embarrass myself'?

Yeah, no. He'd rather die.

Jungkook does what you say. He really does. He plants his palms flat against the door, muscles tensing as he tries to push in time with your pulls. But it's too much. Too much to focus on, too close, too you.

His very healthy, very 21-year-old brain is absolutely screaming some unfortunate, very, very filthy thoughts right now, and no amount of silently yelling at himself to stop it, stop it, STOP IT seems to be working.

Push and pull. Yeah, he's thinking of that in an entirely different context, and honestly, sue him. He's a guy. A guy experiencing literal hell because your ass keeps brushing against him every time you shift, and it's doing things to him.

You move again, and Jungkook swears he's going to lose it. Like, right here. On the spot. His knees are weak, his palms are sweating, and his brain is running on some kind of autopilot loop of, "Abort mission! Shut it down! This is a disaster!"

Fuck him. Fuck his life. Just take him now, death. Send the reaper. Hell, send Taehyung to throw him into the Han River. Anything but this.

But then—just as his brain reaches critical overload—you stiffen.

Oh no.

You turn your head slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder, and the look in your eyes is... not great. In fact, it's terrifying.

"Jungkook," you say, his name an ominous warning.

His whole body seizes, every alarm in his mind blaring at full volume as sweat beads at the back of his neck. "Yeah?" he squeaks, his voice cracking so hard he wants to dig his own grave and lie in it.

"Are you hard?"

Oh, fuck.

Oh FUCK.

His brain short-circuits. His entire being freezes. His soul? Gone. It has left the building. His vision blurs at the edges as the words echo around the tiny closet, bouncing off every surface and hitting him square in the chest over and over again.

"I—uh—what?" he stammers, his voice so high-pitched it might as well be a dog whistle.

You straighten, still half-facing him, and your brow furrows with that look of realization that makes him want to throw himself into the sun.

"You are," you say, your tone shifting between disbelief and a growing edge of... amusement?

"I—I—no—what? No, I'm not! That's—no, that's ridiculous!" He tries to back away automatically, but there's nowhere to go, and his shoulders slam against the wood behind him.

You fully turn at this point, arms crossing as you raise a suspicious eyebrow. "Really, Jungkook?" Your eyes drift ever so slightly downward, and oh no oh no oh no don't look down don't look down don't look down.

He flails. Not physically, thankfully, but mentally? He's losing it. He's scrambling for something, anything, to salvage even a shred of dignity.

"It's—it's not what you think!" he blurts out, his hands flying up defensively. "It's—it's the—the door! Yeah! This stupid closet! I told you I was claustrophobic, right? That's gotta... do something... biologically... right?"

You stare at him, unimpressed. Completely, utterly unimpressed.

"It's not me," he continues, voice cracking again because his body is betraying him. "It's—it's like—science! Random reaction!"

"...Random reaction." Your expression is unreadable now, which somehow makes this worse.

"Totally random," he insists, nodding way too quickly. "You know, like... blood flow! Hormones! Human anatomy! It's a thing! You can look it up!"

"Oh, I'll look it up," you mutter, the corner of your mouth twitching like you're trying very hard not to laugh.

"Please don't," Jungkook whispers, his face burning so hot he's genuinely worried the fire alarm's going to go off.

And honestly? He doesn't even care if the fire alarm goes off at this point. He'd happily burn in this library right now if it meant escaping the absolute mortification of this moment.

Jungkook is fairly certain he's about to pass out, maybe die, and definitely disintegrate into dust when it happens. You turn around, shift again, just slightly, your body brushing against him in a way that feels… deliberate?

Or is his brain just playing tricks on him now?

Oh god. Oh fuck. Is this some cruel, sick hallucination brought on by his overactive imagination? Is his mind punishing him for thinking all those filthy, traitorous thoughts earlier? Why can't he have some kind of superpower to read minds right now? Be Professor X or some shit, because at this point, anything would be better than not knowing what the hell is going through your head right now.

Do you think he's a creep? A weirdo? A perverted little freshman who can't keep it together for five fucking minutes?

Or—

The thought makes his stomach flip violently, a spark of something hot—and definitely dangerous—shooting down his spine as you shift again.

Or do you find this… fun?

Amusing?

Arousing?

Because there's something about the way you're not stepping back, the way you're not recoiling in disgust, the way your breaths are just slightly heavier than before, that's making Jungkook's head spin.

And then you chuckle—low, quiet, but unmistakable.

"This is the first time this has ever happened to me," you mutter, the sound light but laced with something he can't quite name.

But he doesn't care what it's laced with. He doesn't even care what it means.

Because oh god, that chuckle—he'd bottle it if he could. He'd trap it in a jar and keep it with him forever, listen to it on repeat like a favorite playlist, let it echo in his head until he went insane from the sound of it alone.

His mouth opens, but no words come out. His body is frozen, his brain completely fried, every single one of his senses hyper-focused on the fact that you're still right there, pressed against him, closer than you've ever been before.

Say something, dumbass, his brain screams at him. Anything. Literally anything.

"I—it's not my fault?" he manages weakly, his voice cracking so pathetically he wants to punch himself.

You laugh again, and this time there's no mistaking it—there's something mischievous in it, like you're enjoying watching him squirm. And oh no, oh god, you're enjoying this.

"I didn't say it was," you reply, your voice smooth, calm, fucking deadly.

Jungkook swallows hard. His legs feel like they're about to give out any second now. His palms are clammy. His heart is doing that thing where it feels like it's both racing and stopping entirely at the same time.

"I—uh—should we try the door again?" he stammers, trying desperately to redirect the situation before his entire body spontaneously combusts from the sheer tension in the air.

You hum softly, not answering right away, and Jungkook feels every muscle in his body tense in response.

You keep moving, but now it's with purpose—up and down motions that are too deliberate to be anything but intentional. Like you're actually trying to... to get him off. Right here. In this tiny closet. In the fucking library.

Jungkook's mind is gone. Absolutely fucking gone. His consciousness has left his body, floating somewhere near the ceiling as he tries to process what's happening. He's honestly shocked he hasn't passed out yet, given how fast his blood is rushing south.

His hands hover awkwardly over your hips, trembling with the effort not to touch. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, desperate to hold back the embarrassing sounds threatening to escape. Because he refuses to pant like some desperate animal, even though that's exactly what you're reducing him to.

But then—oh fuck—you reach back, grabbing his hands. And before his brain can catch up, you're placing them firmly on your hips.

"It's okay," you murmur, your voice low and honey-sweet. "You can touch me."

The permission makes him shudder, a full-body tremor that he couldn't suppress if he tried. Your hand slides over his, guiding it upward, and his breath catches in his throat as you move it higher, and higher, and—

Oh god.

You press his palm against your breast, and Jungkook's brain completely flatlines.

A pathetic whimper escapes him before he can stop it. His fingers twitch against the soft swell under your shirt, and he's pretty sure he's died. This is death. This is heaven. This is some kind of fever dream his horny brain has cooked up.

"Is this really happening?" he whispers, his voice raw and desperate. "Like, actually happening? Not just another dream or—"

He cuts himself off, realizing what he just admitted, but it's too late. The words are already out there, hanging in the heated air between you.

"Another dream?" you repeat, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. "You dream about this often, Jungkook-ah?"

Fuck.

"Way too often," he confesses, the words spilling from his mouth before his brain can catch up. And yeah, that's definitely because his mind has completely checked out. Because normal Jungkook? Coherent Jungkook? Would rather die than admit something like that.

But normal Jungkook isn't here right now. Normal Jungkook left the building the moment you pressed his hand to your breast. Now there's just... this Jungkook. The one who can't think straight because you're letting him squeeze and touch and feel, and your ass is doing absolutely criminal things against his cock.

His forehead drops to your neck, breath coming in heavy pants that he can't control anymore. Fuck trying to be quiet. Fuck trying to be composed. His hips move on their own, grinding forward to match your rhythm.

Because you gave him permission, right? You said he could touch. You guided his hands. So this is okay. This is allowed. This isn't just another fevered fantasy his desperate brain cooked up at 3 AM.

"Noona," he breathes against your skin, the honorific slipping out again because his filter is completely gone. His fingers flex against your breast, testing, exploring, learning what makes your breath hitch. "Fuck."

You guide his movements with a confidence that makes his head spin, showing him exactly how to touch you. His fingers find your nipple through the fabric, and the way it peaks under his touch makes him dizzy with want. Your hand stays over his, encouraging him to squeeze, to explore, to learn.

And Jungkook? He's never been this hard in his entire fucking life.

He's pathetic, really. Getting this worked up from some dry humping and breast play like he's fifteen instead of twenty-one. Sure, they're absolutely amazing tits—perfect, actually, fitting in his palm like they were made for his touch—but still. He's broadcasting his virginity like a fucking neon sign, getting this desperate this fast.

But he can't help it. Can't stop the way his hips keep rolling against you, seeking more friction, more pressure, more. He knows he's close—can feel it building in his abdomen, that telltale tingling that makes his toes curl in his stupid mismatched socks.

"Noona," he whimpers against your shoulder, the sound muffled by your shirt. "Noona, I'm—fuck—"

His breath comes in sharp, desperate pants. He's making these absolutely embarrassing sounds—little whimpers and moans he has to muffle against your skin because if anyone heard him like this, he'd actually die on the spot.

The pressure builds, and builds, and builds, until he's grinding back helplessly, practically sobbing because it feels so good he can't stand it. His free hand grips your hip like a lifeline, probably too hard, definitely leaving marks, but he can't help it.

"Please," he chokes out, though he's not sure what he's begging for. "Please, I'm—I can't—"

He's going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager, and the worst part? He doesn't even care anymore.

"It's okay, Jungkook-ah," you murmur, voice honey-sweet and deadly. "Let go for noona."

And that's—that should be illegal. The way those words hit him is criminal, making his whole body seize up like he's been electrocuted. His hips stutter, losing rhythm as everything goes white-hot. He groans against your shoulder, embarrassingly loud even muffled against the fabric, as his orgasm hits him like a fucking freight train.

He came. He just—he actually just—came in his pants. Like some inexperienced kid who's never been touched before.

Mortifying. Absolutely fucking mortifying.

A hiccup escapes him, something between a sob and a whimper, and he wants to disappear. To evaporate. To cease existing entirely.

"Hey," you whisper, so soft it makes his chest ache. Your hand reaches back, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, and his skin erupts in goosebumps immediately at the gentle touch.

He wants to cry. Wants to apologize. Wants to explain that he's not usually this pathetic (lie), that he can last longer than three minutes (another lie), that he's not always this embarrassingly eager (the biggest lie of all).

But the words stick in his throat like clay, thick and suffocating. Because what can he possibly say? 'Sorry I just creamed my pants from some dry humping and titty grabbing?'

"It's okay," you murmur, and another hiccup escapes him.

No. No, don't do that. Don't pity him. Don't say those words like anything about this situation is remotely okay. Because it's not. It's the furthest thing from okay. He just—he literally just—

"I really liked that," you add, voice soft but sure.

Jungkook's head snaps up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. "What?"

You… liked it? How could you possibly have liked that? He barely lasted three minutes. He came in his pants like a middle schooler. He probably squeezed your tit too hard and left bruises on your hip and made the most embarrassing sounds and—

"How?" he croaks out, voice raw and disbelieving. "How could you—that was so—I'm so—"

Pathetic. Desperate. Inexperienced. Embarrassing.

His brain supplies about fifty different self-deprecating adjectives, but none of them make it past his lips because he's still trying to process the fact that you said you liked it.

The dam breaks.

Jungkook is crying. Tears spill over his flushed cheeks, unbidden and hot with shame, and oh god, he's really lost it now. He's crying, actually fucking crying, because apparently, being mortified isn't enough. No, his body has to betray him in every possible way all at once.

His blurred vision catches you turning around to face him, and then your hands—soft, warm—reach up to gently brush the tears away from his eyelids. The gesture makes him hiccup, and he immediately wants to crawl under the floorboards and die.

"It was cute," you murmur, and your tone is soft but steady, like you actually mean it.

"Don't say that," he mumbles, voice cracking as he ducks his head, his tears threatening to spill faster. He can't handle this. He really, really can't.

You smile—a smile so kind it feels like a dagger to his chest. "Why? I'm not lying."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"It was so embarrassing!" he bursts out, the words tumbling from his mouth in one long, panicked string. "I made such embarrassing sounds and—and I—I came in my pants and—"

"It's what I wanted," you interrupt, your words cutting through his spiraling like a blade.

He freezes, the tears still clinging to his lashes. His breath catches, the air suddenly clammy.

"...What?" he croaks, the word so small and broken it barely makes it past his lips. His mind blanks, unable to process what he just heard. Surely he misheard you, right? Surely this is some kind of cruel, shame-induced hallucination because there's no way.

"It's what I wanted," you repeat, your voice unwavering as you look him straight in the eye, your gaze too steady, too certain.

His breathing stutters. His tears momentarily forgotten, he stares at you, wide-eyed and silent, like you've just flipped his entire world upside down.

Your hand is still on his cheek, thumb brushing away the lingering wetness under his eye, and Jungkook can't look away from your face. Can't process the way you're looking at him—soft but certain, like you actually meant what you just said.

"But—" he starts, voice wavering. "But why would you—I mean, I—" He swallows hard, his face burning. "I barely even touched you. I just... got off on you like some desperate—"

"Because," you cut him off, your other hand coming up to frame his face, holding him still when he tries to look away. "I liked making you fall apart like that. Liked knowing I could affect you that much."

His breath catches. "But—"

"And," you continue, your thumb trailing down to brush over his bottom lip, making him shiver. "I liked how honest you were. How you couldn't hide how much you wanted it."

Jungkook's brain short-circuits again. Because what the fuck? What the actual fuck? You liked that he was desperate? That he was pathetic and needy and—

"The sounds you made," you murmur, leaning closer, close enough that he can feel your breath against his lips. "Were fucking hot."

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, caught somewhere between a whimper and a groan. Because this can't be real. This has to be some kind of fever dream. Some kind of post-orgasm hallucination.

"Noona," he breathes, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure if he's allowed to touch you again. "I—"

And then the door clicks.

Both of you freeze, heads snapping toward the sound. Light floods the closet as the door swings open, and there stands Taehyung, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Time's up, lovebirds!" he announces cheerfully. "Did you two work out your... tension?"

Jungkook is going to kill him. He's actually going to murder his best friend. Right after he dies of embarrassment. Again.

"Hyung," he croaks out, face burning hotter than the sun. "Did you—was this—did you plan this?!"

Taehyung just grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're welcome!"

Yeah, Jungkook is definitely going to kill him.

Just... maybe after he changes his pants.

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rpwprpwprpwprw · 2 days ago

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the blessings of my life are infinite 🙌

BASED OFF FILM MASTERPOST !

a series of jungkook one-shots based off films/series’

BETTER THAN YOU !

BASED OFF : harry potter

genre hogwarts au. smut. gryffindor!jungkook. ravenclaw!reader.

your ex finds out about your new boyfriend, and he’s definitely not happy about it. but your new guy? he’s everything your ex could never be — and more.

DEVOTION

BASED OFF : house of the dragon

genre 103 AC. smut. knight!jungkook. queen!reader.

your knight is completely devoted to you, and while it’s his duty, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more behind his unwavering loyalty.

BREAK OF DAWN

BASED OFF : project x

genre college au. smut. nerd!jungkook. popular!reader.

despite not being the most popular on campus, jungkook’s friends are determined to throw him a birthday party. rumor has it the hottest girl in school has a special gift just for him.

MIDNIGHT SUSPECT

BASED OFF : spider-man

genre smut. spiderman!jungkook. blackcat!reader.

there’s a thief prowling the night, and jungkook is struggling to catch them. but when he finally discovers the suspect’s identity, he finds it even harder to turn you in to the police.

NEW RECRUIT

BASED OFF : daisy jones & the six

genre 1970s. band au. smut. enemies to lovers. singer!jungkook. singer!reader.

the band is already solid, but yoongi insists they could be even better with you in the lineup. however, jungkook isn’t too thrilled about the newest addition to the group.

BREAKING THE CODE

BASED OFF : euphoria

genre college au. smut. best friends ex. forbidden love.

it was always an unspoken rule: never go after your friend’s ex. but you just couldn’t resist. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her… right?

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rpwprpwprpwprw · 2 days ago

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ok so here’s my idea… 1am messy thoughts 💭

WHAT ABOUT…. tutor!joon who is nerdy and awkward (but handsome ofc) who helps the popular and friendly OC (cliché I know) pass chemistry and she starts to like him and he's slow and doesn't realize it but eventually he does……. PLEASE 😭

cmon guys 😵‍💫 Namjoon with glasses and a watch makes me i n s a n e

someone PLEASE write about this

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rpwprpwprpwprw · 2 days ago

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grrrrrrrr i love you and your writing grrrrr 💗

i know if no one got me, @rpwprpwprpwprw and her reblogs/ mentions got me because every single time she reblogs my work, i always read them and they instantly make me feel so happy because not only are her comments extremely funny with the reaction memes she uses, but she's also so appreciative. thank you so much for being such a huge supporter bby. i truly love you so much !!

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rpwprpwprpwprw · 2 days ago

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this was a whole meal 🍽️

breakfast, lunch, afternoon lunch, dinner, a snack, a complete banquet!!!!

the story is so complete, totally a rollercoaster of emotions and all this in just one shot. 29.1k words... it feels like I'm in heaven and if it's a dream, don't wake me up. I know you said that long one shots don't give much return but if you don't have any readers to read a long fanfic then I'm probably dead 💀

I want to live in the comfort of their relationship, can I?

letting fear run the show | oneshot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: fuckbuddy! jungkook, secret friends with benefits to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

Word Count: 29.1k+

Chapter Warnings: unprotected sex (pls be safe), fingering, oral (f. receiving), mentions of strained marriage, broken family, toxic parents, daddy issues, remarriages, denial of feelings, avoidant nature, jungkook is a little broken. (lmk if i missed anything)

A/N: 600 followers special !! this was initially supposed to be a 3-part series, but since I already have two ongoing series, I didn’t want to waste too much time. so, I decided to push this bad boy out in one go. with the new year right around the corner, i've been a little busy so i'll be updating the other series soon, so stay tuned !! let me know how you liked this oneshot <3

"How the hell is Byeon Wooseok so good-looking ??" you breathe out, your eyes glued to the television screen where the drama Lovely Runner plays.

The soft glow from the screen illuminates the dark living room as you lay on your side on the couch, Jungkook spooning you from the back. One of his hands rest possessively under the oversized T-shirt—his, of course—that you’re wearing as he fondles your breasts, his thumb lightly brushing your nipple. It's a feeling you've grown used to.

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as his warm breath brushes against the sensitive skin of your neck. "I just fucked you raw on this couch thirty minutes ago..." he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. "And all you care about is your little Kdrama boy?"

His lips hover near your nape, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there, but you only giggle, the sound light and unbothered as your eyes don’t stray from the television. "What can I say? He's just so perfect."

Jungkook scoffs lightly, his grip increasing around your breast ever so slightly. "Keep talking, and I might just start taking this personally." he mutters, though there’s an unmistakable hint of amusement in his voice.

"Maybe you should." you tease, your lips curling into a playful grin, still refusing to meet his gaze. Jungkook smiles softly as his eyes linger on you.

From his vantage point, he catches a glimpse of your perfect side profile. The soft glow of the television bathes your face, highlighting the delicate curve of your cheekbone, the slight crinkle in your nose when you laugh, and the way your lips part just slightly in concentration.

His heart leaps, an unspoken emotion swelling in his chest as he takes in your effortless beauty.

You’ve always captivated him in ways he could never fully put into words. There’s something about you... something that draws him in like gravity, something that feels like home.

Holding you so close like this, wrapped in the warmth of your presence, feels almost surreal. The intimacy of the moment blurs the lines of what this relationship was supposed to be.

Five months. It had been exactly five months since you and him entered into this so-called "mutual agreement."

A friends-with-benefits arrangement— that’s all it was meant to be. No strings, no expectations, no complications. And yet, every time he looked at you, every time he touched you, it felt like so much more.

The first time he met you was etched into his memory like a vivid painting, each detail clear and vibrant. Namjoon, his roommate and best friend, had just started dating Heejin, a sweet girl who, by pure coincidence, happened to be your roommate and best friend.

He remembers the party that night, the buzz of low chatter and the warm glow of string lights casting a golden hue over the room. Namjoon had introduced Heejin to him for the first time, and then, as though the universe had planned it, you were there too.

You had appeared like a vision, effortlessly stealing the spotlight in a room full of people. Jungkook remembers the exact moment his breath hitched, the way his heart seemed to stutter as his eyes landed on you. Under the dim party lights, you glowed. Radiant. Ethereal.

Your laughter was the first thing to draw him in... a soft, melodic sound that seemed to fill every corner of the room. It was the kind of laughter that could disarm even the most guarded hearts, and Jungkook was no exception.

When your eyes met his for the first time and you smiled, it felt as though the world had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him unsteady and utterly captivated.

There was something magnetic about you, an effortless charm that seemed to pull people in without you even trying. And somehow, amidst the noise and chaos of the party, you and Jungkook had found each other, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together.

It was as though you’d known each other for years. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by shared laughter and fleeting glances that lingered just a heartbeat too long. For Jungkook, it felt unreal, like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

That night was a whirlwind of stolen moments and an undeniable, electric chemistry.

He remembers how your eyes sparkled as you leaned in closer to hear him over the music, the faint scent of your perfume wrapping around him like a gentle embrace. He remembers how perfectly your body fit against his when you danced together, the way your movements seemed to mirror his, like two pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

And then there was the kiss... the moment that changed everything. Your lips against his were soft, warm, and intoxicating, leaving him dizzy and craving more. One kiss turned into another, and before either of you realized it, the night had unfolded into something neither of you had anticipated.

What started as a chance encounter ended with you in his arms, skin against skin, bodies entwined in the quiet intimacy of his room. The memory of that night still lingers in his mind... the way your touch felt like fire and silk all at once, the sound of your breathless moans and whispers filling the stillness, and the way your gaze held his as though nothing else in the world mattered.

It wasn’t just about attraction... it was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name. That night had been one of the best nights of his life, not just because of the physical connection but because of you. The way you made him feel seen, wanted, and utterly undone.

And somehow, against all odds, it didn’t end there.

He wanted more of you. He wanted to hear your laughter again, that light, musical sound that made everything else fade into the background.

He wanted to feel the way your hands clung to him in the dark, as though he was the only anchor you needed. He wanted to bask in the quiet comfort of your presence, the way you filled the silence with an ease that felt like home.

And to his surprise... and immense relief, you wanted more of him too.

One night turned into two, then three. Gradually, what had started as a fleeting spark grew into something neither of you could quite define. It was exhilarating and effortless, like slipping into a rhythm you were both born to follow.

And that’s when you proposed the arrangement... a way to keep things simple, casual, and uncomplicated. A way to keep emotions out of it.

At the time, Jungkook had agreed without hesitation, not because he wasn’t tempted by the idea of something deeper, but because the thought of feelings and commitment felt... heavy... messy... a lot of work.

A relationship with you would be a dream, of course. But dreams often came with nightmares, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Growing up with parents whose marriage was a slow descent into bitterness and resentment had left its mark on him.

Jungkook had physically seen how love, once vibrant and full of promise, could twist into something sharp and suffocating. He had watched the cracks grow between his parents, their arguments starting as whispers behind closed doors and escalating into full-blown storms that echoed through the house like thunder.

He felt the icy chill of a home that no longer held warmth, a space that had turned from a sanctuary into a battlefield.

But what hurt more than the yelling, the slamming doors, or the bitter silences was how their chaos seeped into him. Their frustrations, their bitterness... everything they couldn’t work out with each other, was redirected onto him. He became their punching bag, their outlet.

Nothing he did ever seemed to be enough. If he brought home good grades, his mother would question why they weren’t perfect. If he excelled in sports, his father would ask why he wasn’t focusing on academics instead.

Neither of them ever noticed how much their feud was eating away at him. How every raised voice, every dismissive comment chipped away at the boy who just wanted a peaceful family.

They never saw how their inability to reconcile left scars he carried long after the fights were over. Jungkook understood that not all couples could get along, that sometimes love fades. But what he couldn’t reconcile with was how their toxicity wasn’t confined to just them, it spilled over onto him, drowning him in its aftermath.

He craved support, validation, and stability, but all he got was criticism and tension. He longed for a moment where they would look at him and see him... not as a scapegoat, not as a reflection of their own failures, but as their son who was struggling just as much as they were. But that moment never came.

It scared him. The way love could break people, could unravel everything good and leave nothing but hurt behind. He had seen it firsthand, lived in its shadow, and it terrified him.

Love, to Jungkook, was a double-edged sword... something that started soft and beautiful but could so easily turn into something destructive. So when you suggested the arrangement, it seemed like the perfect solution.

No risks. No expectations. Just the two of you, tangled together in stolen moments, free from the weight of labels and promises. It was supposed to be safe, uncomplicated, and exactly what he needed.

But even as he agreed, a tiny part of him knew he was lying to himself.

Because despite the fear, despite the walls he’d built around his heart, he still wanted you. He wanted you in ways he couldn’t put into words, in ways that terrified him.

And even if feelings scared him, even if the idea of commitment made his pulse quicken with anxiety, the arrangement gave him something he couldn’t resist.

It gave him you.

A piece of you, at least. Enough to satisfy the craving, or so he thought because right now, as he holds you close on the couch, your warmth melting into his, the way his heart races tells a different story altogether.

"Oh shoot." You abruptly rise from the couch, pulling away from the warmth of his hold and grabbing your phone from the coffee table. Your fingers fumble as you switch it on, your eyes widening slightly as you glance at the time.

"Isn't Namjoon going to be back soon?" you ask, a hint of urgency creeping into your voice. "I'm pretty sure their movie date is about to end."

Jungkook shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he lazily checks his own phone for the time. His lips press into a thin line before he clicks his tongue in mild annoyance. "You're right..." he mutters, the disappointment in his tone barely concealed.

Neither Namjoon nor Heejin had any clue about the arrangement between you and Jungkook. They didn’t know about the stolen kisses, the heated moments, or the way you’d sneak into each other’s apartments whenever your respective roommates were conveniently absent.

It wasn’t the easiest situation... sneaking around like teenagers, but the thrill of it made it all the more intoxicating.

Still, the thrill didn’t stop his chest from tightening slightly at the thought of you leaving.

You stand up, scanning the room before walking around to gather your discarded clothes... a skirt and a top carelessly strewn across the floor in the heat of the moment. "Let me go change." you say, flashing him a small smile before darting towards the washroom.

As the door closes behind you, Jungkook lets out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. The absence of your warmth already feels too stark, the lingering scent of you on his skin the only solace.

A few minutes later, you return to the living room, fully clothed and bag in hand. Jungkook is still on the couch, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours. A soft smile graces his lips, and the sight of him... his messy hair, the relaxed curve of his shoulders, feels oddly comforting.

His lap looks too inviting to resist, so you stride over and settle yourself on him, your legs curling against his as his arms instinctively wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You drape your arm around his shoulder, fingers brushing the soft strands of his hair as he tilts his head to look at you.

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss against his lips, a quiet, lingering gesture that feels intimate despite its simplicity. He kisses you back just as gently, his lips curving into a smile against yours.

"So, I'll see you again... maybe on Thursday?" you ask, pulling away. "Mhm." he hums, his smile deepening. The fondness in his gaze is almost enough to make you stay longer, but you know you can’t.

His hands tighten around your waist for a brief moment, as if reluctant to let you go, before he finally leans back slightly, his eyes not leaving yours. "Text me when you get home." he says softly.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. With one last glance at him, you rise from his lap and head for the door.

Your heels click against the hallway floor as you approach your apartment. Before unlocking the door, you pause to take a deep breath, smoothing out your coat and patting your hair into place.

Stepping inside, you slip off your heels, noticing Heejin's sneakers neatly placed by the doorway... a clear sign she's already home. You walk further in, and sure enough, there she is in the kitchen, her back to you, busy at the stove. The faint aroma of ramen fills the air, an ever-familiar scent in your shared apartment.

"Oh hey... you're back?" she calls out without turning around, her voice casual but warm. You smile as you approach the kitchen island, setting your bag down. "Yeah... How was the movie?" you ask, taking a seat.

She glances over her shoulder, an exaggerated grin spreading across her face. "Boring as hell. Seriously, if Joon wasn’t so cute, I’d never, ever sit through a historical movie again." she says. You chuckle, shaking your head at her dramatics. "Tough life you’re living, huh?"

She laughs before turning back to the stove, finishing up the ramen. Once done, she pours the steaming noodles into two bowls and brings them over to the island, sliding one towards you.

"How was work?" she casually asks, swirling the noodles in her bowl with her chopsticks. "The usual." you reply, leaning forward to take a bite from your bowl.

But just as you're about to savor the taste, you notice her eyes lingering on your face. Her gaze shifts lower to your neck, and suddenly her expression shifts, her eyes widening in shock as she gasps.

"No way." she exclaims, pointing her chopsticks at you accusingly. "You were out fucking your secret boyfriend, weren’t you?"

You freeze, her words hitting you like a thunderbolt, making your heart race. Instinctively, your hand flies to your neck. Had Jungkook really left a hickey there? Again?

You distinctly remember telling him not to... multiple times, in fact. But Jungkook could be... unstoppable sometimes. You knew how he always got caught up in the moment, his passion overtaking reason and to be honest, this wasn’t the first time.

"I... don’t know what you’re talking about." you stammer, though the flush rising to your cheeks betrays you instantly. Heejin smirks knowingly, leaning forward to get a better look at your neck.

"Oh, don’t try to play innocent with me. You’ve been coming home with these suspicious marks for months now, and every time I ask, you act like it’s no big deal !!" She leans back, crossing her arms as she dramatically narrows her eyes.

"Seriously, when are you going to introduce me to this mystery man? I’m literally dying over here." she exclaims, now leaning forward again, resting her elbows on the kitchen island with an eager look.

"Like… who is he? Is it that ridiculously hot co-worker who asked you out last year... what’s his name again… uhhh... oh yeah, Jimin !! Or... or is it someone from your yoga class? Spill it already !!" she pleads, her voice dripping with curiosity and just a hint of impatience.

You sigh, lowering your hand from your neck, knowing there’s no point in hiding it now. “It’s just... someone.” you mumble, avoiding her gaze. Heejin tilts her head, not letting up. “I need names, Y/n.” she presses, her curiosity shining through.

You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart feels like it’s pounding in your chest. “We’re just hooking up... so, it’s not really important.”

Her brows shoot up at your words. “Just hooking up?” she echoes, disbelief lacing her tone as she leans closer. You swallow hard, ignoring the bitter taste rising in your mouth, and nod.

“Damn...” she says with a smirk. “I didn’t know you were into casual.” she adds. You don’t respond, instead focusing back on your ramen, though the taste feels dull as your mind drifts.

The truth is, you’re not into casual. No matter how many times you’ve tried convincing yourself otherwise, your heart always betrays you.

When this whole thing with Jungkook started, it felt like a dream. The chemistry, the connection, the effortless bond... it all seemed perfect. The simplicity of the intimacy with no strings attached was freeing, uncomplicated, and everything felt like it was falling into place.

You were undeniably attracted to him. How could you not be? He was irresistible in every sense of the word. Everything about him pulled you closer, making you crave more.

But somewhere along the way, things started to shift. You couldn’t pinpoint when exactly your heart began to race whenever he was near or why your body longed for his arms around you.

You couldn’t explain the ache of missing him when he wasn’t around or the way your thoughts kept drifting back to him when they shouldn’t.

You thought you could keep it simple, that you could keep your heart out of it. But now, you’re not so sure. Every time these feelings creep in, you shove them aside, knowing it’s a dangerous, forbidden territory.

You were the one who started this whole thing, after all, and the last thing you want is to unpack emotions you’re not ready to face. You tell yourself you’re content with how things are... casual, easy, uncomplicated.

Though the thought of something more feels like a distant, beautiful dream, you can’t risk ruining the mutual agreement you both rely on. You don’t want to complicate things further, especially when the stakes feel so impossibly high.

"The boys are coming over." Namjoon announces, his focus still fixed on the light fixture he’s been adjusting near the doorway.

Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, his fingers flying over his laptop keyboard as he works on the couch. "Movie night?" he asks without looking up, his tone even as he remains focused on the presentation he's making.

"Yeah, Hoseok was saying it’s been forever since we all watched a movie together… and since it’s Friday, I thought it’d be convenient for the weekend." Namjoon replies, stepping off the stool with a satisfied huff. He claps his hands together, getting rid of the dust and strides into the living room, plopping down beside Jungkook.

"Oh, and I invited Heejin and Y/n too." he adds, almost as an afterthought, though the impact of the words lands like a stone dropping into a still lake.

Jungkook’s fingers falter, the clack of the keyboard pausing for the briefest second before he catches himself. A flicker of anticipation sparks in his chest, but his expression remains carefully neutral.

"Really?" he asks, his voice steady, betraying none of the excitement stirring within him. "That’s nice." he adds, his tone casual as he nods and refocuses on his laptop.

Despite his best efforts to mask it, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as the thought of seeing you again continues to linger, refusing to be dismissed.

The evening slips by quickly, and soon all of Jungkook's and Namjoon's friends have arrived. Hoseok, Seokjin, and Taehyung sit sprawled on the living room floor, bickering over the remote as Jungkook finishes preparing the popcorn in the kitchen.

You and Heejin are still not here, and he can’t help but wonder how long it’ll take for you to show up.

Once the popcorn is ready, Jungkook picks up the large bowl and heads to the living room. Just as he sets the bowl down on the coffee table, the doorbell rings. Namjoon starts to rise from the couch, but before he can move, Jungkook is already striding towards the door, eager to see if it’s you.

But to his disappointment, it’s just Heejin standing at the door, a soft smile on her face. "Oh hey, Jungkook." she greets warmly. A flicker of disappointment flashes across his face at the sight of just her, but he quickly masks it with a polite smile. "Hey, Heejin." he replies, stepping aside to let her in.

"Hey, cutie." Namjoon grins once she enters, standing up to pull his girlfriend into a hug. "Get a room, jeez." Taehyung groans from the floor as the couple continue to sway gently, completely lost in each other's embrace.

Jungkook sighs quietly, walking past them with a small shake of his head. He makes his way to the couch, sitting down and reaching for the popcorn just as Namjoon pulls away from Heejin.

"Where’s Y/n?" Namjoon asks, gently guiding Heejin to the couch before taking a seat beside Jungkook.

"Oh, she’s still at work." Heejin replies casually, offering a small shrug. "She said she’d take a while." she adds, settling comfortably next to her boyfriend, who immediately wraps his arm around her.

Soon enough, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Taehyung finally come to an agreement on the movie selection. As the opening credits roll, Jungkook finds himself glancing at his phone to check the time more frequently than he'd like to admit, each time growing a little more restless.

Halfway through the film, and you're still not here.

Seokjin and Taehyung are lost in their laughter, their voices filling the air as they crack open one beer after another, oblivious to the screen. Hoseok, however, is entirely immersed in the movie, his focus unwavering.

Namjoon and Heejin, wrapped up in their own bubble of comfort, laugh at the screen, occasionally stealing glances at each other, their proximity almost magnetic.

Jungkook sits at the edge of the couch, his fingers drumming on his knee. He sighs, his gaze drifting towards the front door.

It's only a few minutes later when the sound of the doorbell rings through the room, sharp and sudden, cutting through the low hum of the movie. Without a second thought, Jungkook jumps to his feet, moving with urgency.

His heart quickens as he strides towards the door, his hand gripping the handle, and pulling it open with a swift motion. The cool air brushes past him, and the moment his eyes land on you, a rush of warmth floods his chest.

"Hey." you breathe, a hint of surprise in your tone as your gaze meets his. His smile is immediate, wide and genuine, his eyes softening at the sight of you. He steps back to allow you inside, his expression lighting up as you walk past him.

You chuckle at the way he looks at you, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. Slipping off your heels, you step further into the apartment, your eyes scanning the room, only to pause when you see Heejin and the others.

"I'm so sorry, guys. Work was busier than usual today." you instantly apologize, your voice carrying the familiar tone of sincerity. Everyone quickly reassures you with understanding nods and warm smiles.

"Come take a seat, we're watching The Nice Guys." Taehyung calls out, waving a hand to invite you over. "Ohh, fun." you reply, your voice light with a smile as you make your way further into the room.

As you carefully remove your coat, placing it on the nearby table alongside your bag, Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat. His eyes wander briefly, taking in your outfit.

It's nothing new... just your usual work clothes. A fitted button-up shirt and a sleek black pencil skirt paired with black stockings and somehow, every time he sees you in it, the effect is the same.

You always manage to look effortless, yet stunning. The way the fabric hugs your body, the way the skirt shapes your figure... it’s almost too much to handle. His mind races with unholy thoughts he tries to push away, but they linger anyway, consuming him.

He bites his lip, trying to focus on anything other than you as you settle into the seat next to Heejin. But his eyes can’t help but wander back to you as he walks towards the couch, the effect of your presence overwhelming in a way he can’t quite explain. He takes a deep breath before sitting right next to you.

You glance at him as his legs brush against yours, the subtle touch sending a faint warmth through you. A soft smile graces your lips when you feel him inch closer, his presence comforting in a way you can’t quite explain.

You lean back, settling into the couch, your attention half on the movie and half on the quiet energy radiating from him.

A few minutes later, your eyes drift to the empty popcorn bowl. “Oh, is there more popcorn in the kitchen? Let me go get some.” you announce, standing up and grabbing the bowl.

Jungkook seizes the moment without hesitation. "Yeah, I’ll show you where it is." he offers smoothly, his tone casual... too casual... as if fetching popcorn is suddenly a two-person job.

You glance at him, your brows raising slightly in surprise before a grin slips onto your face, realizing exactly what he’s up to. The others, engrossed in the movie or their conversations, remain blissfully unaware of the exchange. Taking advantage of the moment, you follow him as the two of you slip into the kitchen.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, Jungkook flicks the light on, the soft glow illuminating the space. You place the bowl on the counter, your movements unhurried, but before you can do anything else, his hands are already on your waist. The warmth of his touch sends a spark through you as he gently pulls you closer.

"Couldn’t wait, could you?" you tease, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glance up at him. He quirks a brow, his pout exaggerated in mock indignation. "Can you blame me? You kept me waiting all evening." he counters, his voice low and tinged with a playful edge.

"I know." you murmur, your voice dropping slightly as you gaze into his eyes. "Work was crazy today."

His gaze softens for a moment, his eyes tracing your features... the curve of your lips, the way your hair falls around your face, the light in your eyes. Without a word, he presses you back against the counter, his hands firm yet gentle around your waist as he effortlessly hoists you up.

A surprised gasp escapes your lips, your eyes darting towards the kitchen doorway. "Kook..." you whisper urgently, your voice a mix of amusement and apprehension. "What if someone walks in?"

His lips twitch into a smirk, his dark eyes glinting with a mix of confidence and something deeper. "They won’t." he assures you, his voice steady and low as he inches closer. The air between you feels electric, his presence overwhelming in the best possible way as the noise from the living room fades into nothingness.

His lips find the delicate curve of your neck, brushing just above the crisp edge of your shirt's collar. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver coursing through you, your head tilting slightly to grant him more access. Each kiss he leaves is slow and gentle, as though he’s savoring every inch of skin that his lips touch.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a soft sigh escaping your lips when his mouth begins to trace the path along your jawline. His proximity is intoxicating, his scent, his warmth, it surrounds you entirely.

"I’ve been thinking about you all day." he murmurs against your skin, the husky timbre of his voice sending sparks through your body. His eyes, dark and full of desire, flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat before his lips hover just a whisper away from yours.

You barely have time to respond before he closes the distance, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that starts achingly slow, his lips molding against yours.

But the restraint doesn’t last. A soft groan rumbles from his chest as his hands grip your waist, tugging you forward until your bodies are flush against each other. The kiss deepens, turning hungrier, more urgent, as if he’s trying to communicate all the things he can’t put into words.

Your hands thread through his hair, pulling him closer, your legs instinctively locking behind his waist. His hands find your hips, holding you securely on the counter as he presses against you, his movements a perfect balance of need and control.

You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that leaves you breathless. The world outside the kitchen blurs into insignificance. All you can feel is him, the warmth of his hands, the press of his body and the intensity of his kiss.

Breathless, you pull away for a brief moment, your chest rising and falling as you try to steady yourself. Jungkook leans back slightly, his dark eyes scanning your face intently. The sight of your hooded gaze, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips stirs something primal in him, and he has to physically restrain himself from pulling you right back in.

"Do you want to leave?" he asks softly, his voice low and gravelly. You blink at him, still caught in the haze of the moment. "What?" you breathe out.

He smiles faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "You’ve had a long day, and the movie’s almost over anyway." He pauses, his hand lingering near your cheek as his thumb gently grazes your skin.

"Plus, Heejin's probably crashing here tonight, so why don’t we head to your place? Let me... take care of you." he suggests, his grin teasing but his tone laced with genuine intent.

You bite your lip, considering his offer, the thought of some quiet, uninterrupted time with him tempting you more than you'd like to admit. "So… we leave as soon as the movie ends?" you ask, your voice soft but laced with anticipation.

His eyes light up, and he nods eagerly. "Yeah, I’ll just tell them I’m dropping you home." he replies, the corner of his mouth quirking into that boyish grin you can never resist. "Sounds good." you giggle, feeling a rush of excitement.

He helps you down from the counter, his hands lingering at your waist for a moment longer than necessary. You smooth your skirt over your stockings, your fingers trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline still coursing through you.

Jungkook reaches for the empty popcorn bowl, filling it quickly before giving you a knowing glance.

Together, you leave the kitchen, your shoulders brushing as you walk back into the living room. His hand hovers near the small of your back, a subtle but comforting gesture that makes your heart flutter.

No one seems to notice the two of you reentering the room, their attention still fixed on the screen. But as you settle back into your seat, the shared secret between you and Jungkook lingers in the air, a silent promise of the night to come.

"You have your keys, right?" Heejin asks from the couch, her voice carrying over the sound of the credits rolling on the screen. You pause, rummaging through your bag until your fingers close around the familiar metal. "Yeah, got them." you say.

"Alright, I'm gonna head out then." you announce, glancing at everyone in the room. Seokjin is already slumped over, passed out on the bean bag, while Taehyung offers you a sleepy smile from his spot on the floor.

"Bye, Y/n-ah." Hoseok says with a wave, his tone warm despite the late hour. You return his gesture with a soft smile, your gaze briefly sweeping over Heejin and Namjoon before turning towards the door.

"You want a ride?" Jungkook asks, his voice calm but carrying a subtle undertone that only you seem to catch. "Yeah, it's pretty late. You should drop her off, Kook." Namjoon chimes in without hesitation, unknowingly solidifying your and Jungkook's already-formed plan.

You suppress the grin threatening to spill across your lips and nod instead, playing along. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks." you say, your voice steady as you smile politely.

Jungkook grabs his keys from the table, his movements casual, though you catch the fleeting glance he throws your way. The silent exchange between you is brief but promising that the night is far from over.

As you step outside together, the quiet hum of the night enveloping you, Jungkook instinctively glances around the vicinity, ensuring no one is nearby. Satisfied, he reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in one swift motion.

You let out a soft giggle, glancing at him through the corner of your eye. "The things we do... I swear to god." you say, shaking your head in amused disbelief.

He smirks, a playful glint in his eyes as he shrugs. "You gotta do what you gotta do." he replies simply, his tone laced with mischief. The two of you reach his car, and Jungkook, ever the gentleman, steps ahead to open the passenger door for you. You slip inside, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air as he closes the door for you.

Moments later, he settles into the driver’s seat, effortlessly navigating the familiar route to your apartment.

It takes him barely 15 minutes to reach your building, and the two of you hurry upstairs to your apartment. As soon as you unlock the door and step inside, Jungkook wastes no time helping you slip off your coat.

The moment you hang it near the door, he seizes the opportunity, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet and carrying you bridal style.

You can’t help but laugh, your giggles echoing through the hallway as he strides towards your bedroom, holding you securely in his arms. His playful grin mirrors your joy, as he pushes the door open with his shoulder.

Once he's inside your room, Jungkook gently places you on the bed, his hands lingering on your sides as he hovers over you. Without wasting a second, he captures your lips in another passionate kiss.

This time, the kiss is slower, more intense. Your tongues meet, teasing each other in a heated dance, and you pull him closer, feeling the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

The weight of him above you only adds to the intensity, but it’s a comfort, a feeling you never want to end. The kiss deepens, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other.

It only takes a few seconds for Jungkook to move down your body, slowly unbuttoning your shirt and sliding it off your shoulders and then his fingers trace along the hem of your skirt, sliding it down your legs and tossing it aside.

He watches you with an almost animalistic hunger, but when he catches the sight of your stockings and your black lacey lingerie, he licks his lips hungrily.

You can see the anticipation in his eyes, his fingers curling into fists as he fights the urge to just pounce on you. You shiver at the sight, already wet and ready for him, and watch as he kneels between your thighs.

You can feel his eyes on you as you spread your legs for him, and you don’t miss the way his pupils darken as he drinks you in. His fingers trail along the inside of your thighs, drawing goosebumps from your skin. "I'll make you feel good, yeah?" he lowly says, tugging the soft fabric of your underwear.

He carefully slides it down along with your stockings as he exposes your glistening, wet core. "For me?" he teases, his fingers gently reaching to feel your arousal.

You spread your legs further for him, allowing him to have a full view and more access. Your pulse hammers in your ears as you hear his breath hitch at the sight of your soaked core. His fingers trail along your slit. You gasp at the sensation, your hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Good girl.” he purrs, slipping a finger between your folds and feeling how wet you are for him. He watches your reaction as he starts to push his finger inside you, coating it with your juices. “You like this? You like it when I touch you?” he leans closer, increasing his pace.

“Kook...” you breathe out, your hands grabbing fistfuls of the silk sheets beneath you. He grins at you as he continues his slow assault, pushing his fingers deeper and deeper inside your quivering pussy.

He hums at your reaction, watching as you squirm beneath him. “More.” you beg, tugging on his wrist to increase his pace in your needy cunt. His eyes darken and he leans over your body, bringing his mouth to your ear.

“You want me to fingerfuck you? Make you feel good?” He pauses for a moment as he waits for your response. You nod, whimpering as he adds another finger to your core. “Oh god...” you moan, shutting your eyes close.

“That’s my girl.” He begins to move his fingers faster, curling them inside you to reach your sensitive bundle of nerves. His thumb rubs against your clit, causing you to moan and thrash about on the bed.

His eyes stay trained on you, watching as your breath picks up. He slows down his movements and you slowly open your eyes to see him watching you, his cheeks flushed and his breathing heavy.

He presses the palm of his hand into your clit and you let out a loud moan, feeling the pleasure build between your legs. “Fuck... Kook... Oh god... I’m gonna cum.” You whine, trying to fight against the waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Mhmm, that’s my good girl.” He coos as he relentlessly continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. “Cum for me.” He breathes hotly into your ear, causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. His words send you over the edge and you feel your body clench around his fingers, your orgasm hitting you in waves.

Your head lolls to the side as you try to catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down. You pant, feeling exhausted from the pleasure of his touch.

He slides his fingers out of you slowly, rubbing them against your clit, your arousal being smeared against your core. “Fuck…” You whine as the pleasure continues to travel through your body.

He pulls back momentarily, his dark eyes locking with yours as he tugs his tshirt over his head and tosses it aside in one swift motion. The faint glow from your bedside lamp highlights the toned lines of his chest, and you can’t help but let your gaze linger.

He smirks at your unabashed stare before leaning down again, his warm breath fanning over your neck. This time, his lips find the sensitive skin just below your ear, leaving feather-light kisses that quickly grow more insistent.

He nips at the delicate flesh, earning a soft gasp from you as your hands instinctively clutch at his bare shoulders. "Kook..." you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you still try to recover from the orgasm you just had. "No hickies." you warn, though your resolve wavers with every kiss.

But Jungkook doesn’t seem to care... at least, not entirely. The way he trails his lips along your neck, alternating between soft kisses and teasing nibbles, makes it clear he's intent on marking his territory as always. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, a mixture of exasperation and sheer pleasure coursing through you.

Gradually, your bra slips away, and his lips find the soft swell of your breasts. He begins to kiss and suck at the tender flesh, each movement intoxicating. A soft gasp escapes your lips as your back instinctively arches, pressing closer to him, drawn into the spell of his touch.

His mouth begins its descent, leaving a heated trail of kisses along your torso. Each press of his lips is a mixture of gentle nips and soft sucks that leave a faint, glistening path in their wake.

The warmth of his mouth contrasts with the cool air around your bedroom, sending shivers coursing through your body. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he goes lower, anchoring yourself as the sensation overwhelms you, a heady dizziness settling in as he takes his time, savoring every inch of your skin.

And the second his tongue meets your wet flesh, you gasp and arch off the bed, hands flying to clutch the sheets again. He looks up at you through his lashes, a knowing smirk spreading across his lips as he begins to eat you out with an intensity that makes you see stars.

You can’t hold back your moans as he licks up and down your slit, forcefully pushing your thighs open to make room for himself as he devours you like a starved man. He groans into you, his lips and tongue working you over in a rhythm that makes you shake uncontrollably.

The minute his tongue presses against your clit, you cry out and push your hips up against his face, your body desperate for more. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to oblige, using his lips to suck at the bundle of nerves as he slips a finger inside of you again.

Your hips buck up again at the intrusion, and he latches onto your clit, drawing it between his lips and sucking harshly.

Your head thrashes back and forth, fingers twisting in the sheets right above your head as Jungkook takes his time with you. It’s a slow, torturous build, and by the time you reach your climax for the second time tonight, you’re crying out his name as you shudder against his tongue.

He licks you clean with slow, passionate strokes, savoring every moment as your body gradually stills, the tremors of your release fading into the warmth of his touch.

When he finally pulls back, his gaze locks with yours, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re so pretty...” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, the words carrying both affection and pride.

Your eyes flutter open, hazy with the aftermath, and you’re met with the sight of him just above your core. His chin gleams with the remnants of your essence, unapologetically proud, a testament to the fervor of the moment. The sight alone sends a fresh wave of warmth washing over you, leaving you breathless all over again.

“Fuck me, please.” you plead, your voice raw with desperation. Jungkook pauses, his lips curling into a smug, airy smirk at your words. “Someone’s feeling needy tonight.” he murmurs, his tone teasing but laced with an undeniable hunger. "Always... needy for you." you whisper.

He moves closer, his dark, intense gaze locking with yours, making your breath hitch. Without another word, he captures your lips in a searing kiss. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue, mingling with the intoxicating heat of the moment as he licks and sucks at your lips, pulling you deeper into the spiral of longing.

You feel his hard length pressing firmly against your exposed core, the rough denim of his jeans igniting a maddening friction. He rolls his hips against you, eliciting a soft, breathless moan that escapes into his mouth, your lips still locked in a heated kiss.

The contrast of the coarse fabric against your sensitive skin sends a shiver racing down your spine, heightening your every sense.

He pulls away hastily, his impatience evident as he tugs his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion. His hard length springs free, and your eyes involuntarily trail to him as he climbs back over you. The sight of him stroking himself a few times, the glistening precum spreading along his shaft, makes you bite your lips.

He leans over you, his breathing rapid as he murmurs your name. His hardness glides over your slick folds, making you gasp at the sensation. He's not done teasing you. You're left squirming and whimpering beneath him as he teases your entrance.

The moment his tip brushes against your opening, your body arches instinctively, and a soft moan escapes your lips. "That's what you want, baby? You want me to fuck you? Want my dick inside you??" he rasps, his voice low and husky with desire.

Without waiting for your response, he buries himself inside you, filling you completely with his cock. You cry out at the sudden invasion, your nails digging into his skin as he forces your legs further apart with his hands. The pressure is intoxicating, the stretch overwhelming.

He stills inside you for a few seconds, allowing your walls to adjust to his thickness. The moment he pulls back out, your hips jerk forward in protest, and he chuckles low in his throat. "You like that, baby?" he asks, his voice dripping with lust.

You gasp when his hand slips between your legs, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit as he slowly starts to thrust into you again. "God, this fucking... this fucking pussy." He groans as you let out a breathless moan in response.

Your hips rock against his, meeting him thrust after thrust as he fucks you earnestly. The sound of your bodies slapping together and your whiney moans fill the room, punctuated by his groans as he takes you harder and faster.

He sits up, pulling your legs over his arms as he hooks your knees over his elbows. He slams into you at this new angle, making your gasps turn into little, strangled screams. His strokes become rougher and more demanding, making your inner walls contract around him.

"You're so fucking tight." he hisses as you tighten further around him. He's watching himself slide in and out of you, and it's only seconds before you're pushed over the edge.

The unbearable pleasure that had been coiling tight in your belly snaps yet again, sending waves of ecstasy pulsating through you as your third orgasm rips through you. He continues to thrust into you even as you come, making the waves of your orgasm gush and flow.

He holds himself still, buried deep inside you, allowing you to catch your breath. He drops a gentle lingering kiss on your forehead, his eyes blazing with lust and something much deeper that you can't really notice.

"My turn...." He breathes out and then he fucks you mercilessly, your hips slamming up against his thrusts until he's growling out his own release, pulsing deep inside you.

The warmth of his seed fills you, making your muscles clench around him with renewed pleasure. He collapses onto the bed next to you, as you both struggle to catch your breaths.

Jungkook peeks at you from the other side of your bed, his lips twitching into an amused grin as he takes in the sight of you propped against the headboard, eyes glued to your phone.

The muffled dialogues from a random Kdrama echo in the room, completely at odds with the steamy moment you’d just shared.

"I just made you cum three times tonight..." he says, scooting closer to your bare form under the warm blanket. "And not even twenty minutes later, you're already deep into someone else's love story?" He leans over to sneak a glance at your screen, his brow quirking as he shakes his head.

"I'll never understand this habit of yours. Like, does your post-orgasm clarity just scream, 'Quick! I need emotionally unavailable chaebol heirs and tragic love triangles right now!'?"

You snort at his dramatics, swatting his shoulder playfully, though it does nothing to stop his amused grin. His teasing chuckle fills the room, warm and infectious. "Shut up." you mumble, your cheeks heating slightly as you attempt to refocus on the drama playing on your phone.

Jungkook shakes his head with a fond laugh but, despite his earlier jabs, he leans closer. His arm drapes lazily over your shoulder, and his eyes fix on the tiny screen in your hands.

"So, what’s the plot this time? Evil mother-in-law? Forbidden love? Someone with amnesia?" he teases, the corners of his lips curling as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. "You're so annoying." you mutter, though a small smile tugs at your lips. "Just watch."

And so he does, his head gently leaning against yours, the playful smirk on his lips fading into something tender as the two of you quietly immerse yourselves in the drama.

The room is serene until the faint buzz of Jungkook’s phone on your nightstand interrupts the moment. You feel him shift slightly, reaching over to grab it. As he glances at the screen, his brows knit together briefly.

You glance at the time—11:03 p.m., a fleeting curiosity sparking in your mind about who might be calling him so late. But you shake it off, choosing not to dwell on it since you don't want to be nosy.

“Uh… I need to take this.” he says, his voice low. You look up from your phone, offering him a soft, understanding nod. “Go ahead.”

His lips curve into a small, appreciative smile before he pushes himself off the bed, phone in hand. He lingers for a second as if considering something but then steps out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The absence of his presence feels momentarily odd, and while the drama continues playing on your screen, it no longer holds the same grip on your attention. You can’t help but wonder who would call him so late... or why his expression seemed just a little more serious than usual.

Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself to focus on your phone. But as the muffled sound of his voice carries faintly from the hallway, your curiosity lingers, no matter how much you try to push it aside.

He returns a few minutes later, his shoulders visibly tense as he walks towards the bed. His movements are deliberate, almost heavy, and he doesn’t look at you or say anything as he slips under the blanket and rests his back against the headboard.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, still pretending to focus on your phone, but the atmosphere in the room feels dense, like a storm brewing beneath the surface.

The silence stretches unbearably until it’s broken by a loud, exasperated sigh escaping his lips. The sound pulls your attention fully, your concern bubbling to the surface. You hesitate for a moment, unsure if he wants to talk, before finally speaking.

“Is… is everything okay?” you ask softly, setting your phone down on the mattress and shifting slightly to face him.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on his legs beneath the blanket, his jaw clenching briefly before relaxing. He licks his lips, his expression tight, as though he’s wrestling with whether or not to let the words out.

The tension in his body stirs something protective in you, and you gently inch closer. “Hey, Kook, what’s wrong?” you try again, your voice quieter now, layered with care.

This time, he finally turns to look at you. His eyes meet yours, filled with hesitation and a vulnerability you rarely see. “That was… my dad.” he says, his voice low and uneven.

Your lips part slightly as you blink at him, the revelation catching you off guard. Jungkook has always been private about his family, almost evasive. This is the first time you’ve heard him mention his father at all. “Oh…” you breathe, treading carefully. “Is everything okay with him?”

He lets out a dry, humorless chuckle, his gaze shifting away. “Uhh… yeah. It’s just…” He trails off, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You notice the subtle tremor in his lower lip before he presses it tightly together.

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.” you assure gently, tilting your head to catch his eyes again. “No… no, it's just...” he says, shaking his head slightly. He finally meets your gaze again, his expression clouded. “My dad… he got remarried six years ago, and this is the first time I’m hearing from him since then.”

Your heart aches at the weight of his words, but you remain quiet, giving him the space to continue. “And now... he wants me to meet his wife… and his... his daughter.” Jungkook says, the words slipping out almost reluctantly. “He said he wants to formally introduce them to me.”

You nod slowly, unsure of what to say, the weight of the moment heavy between you. “Growing up...” he continues, his voice quiet but firm. “My parents didn’t have the happiest marriage. And me and my parents... specifically my dad… well... we never really got along. So, it’s just weird now, you know? Having to meet this new family of his… it feels… strange.”

His gaze drops again, and you can see the faint flicker of pain in his eyes, the way he’s trying so hard to mask the rawness of his emotions. “Yeah… I understand.” you say softly.

He exhales sharply, running his hand through his hair. “And I just… I don’t know how I’m supposed to face him. Seeing him all happy and content with his new family… after all these years when all he’s ever been to me is unavailable. It’s like… I don’t know if I can... if I can face him.”

His voice breaks slightly at the end, and his shoulders slump as if the weight of his thoughts is too much to carry. Your chest tightens at the sight of him unraveling, so guarded yet so clearly hurting. Without hesitation, you reach out, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

Jungkook leans into you, his head resting against your shoulder. His fingers fidget slightly, and his breathing slows as the silence wraps around you both.

Though he doesn’t speak, the tension in his body eases just a little, his presence softening in the comfort of your quiet support.

“Y/n…” he suddenly murmurs, his voice barely audible. You hum softly, your fingers instinctively finding their way to the back of his head, brushing through the soft strands of his hair. He stays still for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts, before he speaks again.

“Can you…” His voice falters, hesitant, before he finally forces the words out. “Can you come with me?” he asks. Your hand pauses in his hair as your eyes widen, his request catching you off guard. “What?” you ask softly, your tone laced with surprise.

Jungkook lifts his head from your shoulder, his soft eyes meeting yours. He immediately notices the uncertainty in your expression, the way your lips part slightly in shock. He hesitates, his throat tightening, but he pushes himself to continue.

“I just… I don’t want to face him alone.” he admits, his voice trembling slightly, raw with vulnerability. “If… if someone’s there with me... if you’re there with me... I think… I think I won’t feel like I’m on the edge.”

He breaks eye contact, glancing down as if ashamed of his own admission. “The thought of seeing him alone… it’s just too much.” he adds, his voice quieter now.

You watch him closely, the way his fingers twist nervously against the hem of the blanket, the faint quiver in his jaw as he speaks. Your heart aches for him, but before you can respond, Jungkook’s breath catches.

He suddenly shakes his head, the hesitation creeping back into his voice as he pulls away slightly. “You know what, forget it. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s… it’s too much to ask of you. I shouldn’t—”

“I’ll come with you.” The words leave your lips gently, cutting through his rambling, and his eyes snap up to meet yours. They’re wide with disbelief, his lips parting slightly as if he misheard you. “What?” he breathes, his voice tinged with shock.

“I’ll come with you.” you repeat, your tone soft but resolute. You reach out, resting your hand on his. “When you have to go see your dad… I’ll be there. You don’t have to go alone.”

His brows furrow slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. “You’d… really do that for me?” he asks quietly, almost as if he’s afraid of the answer.

“Of course I would.” you say with a small smile, squeezing his hand gently. “I can understand how hard this might be for you. If having me there will make it even a little easier, then… I’ll be there, no question.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens as he stares at you, the sincerity in your eyes making his chest ache in a way he can’t quite explain. He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze searching yours, and then he exhales shakily.

“Thank you.” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much.” His words hang in the air, heavy with a vulnerability that feels almost too intimate. You don’t say anything in response, simply leaning in and wrapping your arms around him.

He immediately leans into the embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hands clutching around your back as if anchoring himself to you. “You’re not alone, Jungkook,” you murmur softly, your hand smoothing over his bare back in slow, comforting strokes. “You never have to be.”

He doesn’t reply, but the way he holds onto you, the way his breathing steadies against your shoulder, says everything he can’t.

“Do I look okay?” Jungkook suddenly stops, turning on his heel to face you in the parking lot. His hands fidget with the lapels of his jacket, tugging and smoothing the fabric as if it holds the key to calming his nerves.

You halt in your tracks, a soft smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him. His brows are furrowed, and his lips press into a thin line, betraying the anxiety simmering beneath his otherwise composed exterior. “Yes, Kook.” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “You look perfect.”

He exhales a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “I’m sorry, I’m just so nerv—” Before he can finish, you step closer, placing your hands on his arms in a steadying gesture. “I understand.” you say softly, your gaze locking onto his. “It’s okay to feel nervous. Everything is going to be fine.”

Your reassuring tone seems to reach him, and he opens his eyes, his gaze searching yours for some consolation. You lean in slightly, your voice quieter now but no less confident. “So come on...” you say, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go.”

With a soft nod, you carefully guide him forward, turning him back towards the restaurant entrance just a few meters away.

The warm glow of the restaurant lights spills out onto the pavement as the two of you step inside. Jungkook’s eyes immediately begin to scan the room, his gaze flickering across tables and faces until he spots the person he’s looking for.

Across the room, his father sits at a table near the window, the light catching on the graying strands of his neatly combed hair. Beside him is a little girl, her laughter ringing softly as she talks animatedly, and across from them, a younger woman leans in, her smile warm and easy.

Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat as he watches his father laugh, a sound so unguarded and genuine it feels almost foreign to him. He notices the way his father’s hand reaches out to gently fix the little girl’s hair, his expression soft and full of care.

Why have I never seen that smile before? The thought creeps in unbidden, heavy and bitter, making his chest tighten.

He forces himself to look away, unwilling to let the twinge of hurt fester any longer. Instead, his gaze shifts to you. You’re beside him, your own eyes scanning the restaurant.

“Come on.” Jungkook murmurs quietly, his voice tight as he gestures subtly towards the table. “He's over there.”

Your eyes land on the little family. For a moment, you’re still, observing them as if trying to absorb their dynamic. The scene feels private, like a small world they’ve built for themselves, one you’re about to step into.

You take a deep breath, willing your nerves to steady. It’s not your meeting, yet somehow you feel the weight of it too... Jungkook’s vulnerability, his anxiety, his need for you to anchor him in this moment.

“Okay.” you say quietly, nodding as you glance back at him. Your voice is calm, though your heart races beneath your chest. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but the brief flicker of gratitude in his eyes tells you he’s drawing strength from your presence.

And together, step by step, you cross the room towards the table, the weight of the moment sinking deeper with every second. “Jungkook!!” His dad’s voice cuts through the quiet murmur of the restaurant before you even make it to the table.

He stands up with a swift motion, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor, his arms already open in a wide gesture. Jungkook hesitates, his body stiffening as his dad pulls him into a hug. The moment feels disconnected, strained, as Jungkook doesn’t return the embrace, his arms by his sides, his muscles taut.

The way his father pats his back is awkwardly forced, and it only accentuates the gulf between them. You notice the subtle way Jungkook pulls back a little, not in anger, but in guarded distance.

Your lips press together, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth as you watch the brief interaction unfold before you. His dad’s smile doesn’t waver, but you can feel the tension simmering in the air, almost palpable.

The older man releases Jungkook and straightens up, his eyes turning to you. There’s no pause, no acknowledgment of the silence that’s just passed between the father and son. “And… who is this?” he asks, his voice light, almost too light for the moment.

His eyes remain bright, a smile dancing at the corners of his lips, yet something about the way he’s sizing you up doesn’t sit right. “A friend.” Jungkook answers shortly, his tone almost as clipped as his posture.

You offer a polite bow, your own smile gentle but somewhat strained. You glance at the woman across the table, who nods with a soft, warm smile, trying to ease the tension with a small gesture of kindness.

“Come, take a seat!” his dad urges, his voice carrying a cheerful lilt, as if everything's normal, as if nothing heavy hung in the air. Jungkook hesitates for a brief moment, but then, with a quiet sigh, he moves to sit beside his father’s new wife and across from his younger step-sister. She flashes a bright smile at him, her innocence lighting up her features.

You take your seat at the edge of the table, positioning yourself between Jungkook and the little girl. The space between the three of you feels almost too wide, yet your presence beside Jungkook is a subtle comfort, offering a silent but solid support.

“So, Jungkook, how are you?” His father asks, as he settles into his seat, his tone casual. “How’s life??”

Jungkook gulps, the usual ease with which he speaks seems to have evaporated. “Everything’s good.” he replies shortly, not an ounce of enthusiasm behind his words. It’s almost as if the question is more of a formality, a checkmark on a list of things to be asked.

“That’s nice to hear.” his father says, nodding as though it’s all perfectly fine, as if there’s nothing unusual about this encounter. His father leans back in his seat, rubbing his hands together, as if he's ready to continue the next topic of conversation.

“Anyways...” he continues, his tone still light. “I’d like you to meet Suryeon.” he says, gesturing to the older woman seated beside Jungkook.

She gives him a small nod, her smile gentle and welcoming, yet there’s a stiffness to her presence, too, a knowledge that she’s playing a part in this awkward charade.

“And this is… Bora.” he adds, wrapping his arm around the little girl’s shoulders. Bora looks up at Jungkook, her tiny hands waving at him excitedly, a high-pitched giggle escaping her lips as she flashes him a grin.

He nods at Suryeon, and his gaze flickers back to Bora. His smile softens for a moment, but there’s a hesitation, a doubt in his eyes that doesn’t escape your notice.

You take in a steady breath, observing the entire dynamic unfold in front of you. The forced interactions, the strained pleasantries, all of it feels unnatural, almost painful to watch.

You slip your hand below the table and gently pat Jungkook’s knee, offering him the silent reassurance he might not say he needs, but you can feel he desperately does.

The dinner progresses in the same manner... questions and more questions, each one a casual attempt to probe into Jungkook’s life. “How’s work? Any projects you’re excited about?” His dad asks.

Jungkook responds with one-word answers, his body tense, his movements stiff. His fork moves mechanically as he picks at his food, clearly not interested in the meal, but rather in trying to force himself to stay calm.

His eyes dart to the table, his focus broken, as his father continues to ask about the most mundane things. It’s obvious... this dinner, this whole situation, it’s driving him to the edge. You can see it in the way his posture has slumped, the way he forces himself to take a breath after each question.

And then, it happens.

His dad, still too jovial for the moment, makes a remark that strikes a chord. He chuckles lightly, his eyes twinkling with a look that feels too much like dismissal.

“You know, Jungkook…” His father’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, still laced with that smile, but something colder underneath. “I always thought you’d be a bit more… successful by now. At your age, I was already running my business, not just… dabbling in it like you.”

The words land like a slap, cutting through the fragile calm that had been trying to hold everything together. Jungkook’s fork freezes mid-air, his body going rigid. His face contorts as the weight of his father’s words hits harder than intended, his breath catching in his chest.

His father’s smile falters for a brief second, but it’s only enough for Jungkook to see it, before he covers it up with a light chuckle. “But I guess everyone has their own pace, right?” he adds, trying to brush it off, his tone flippant, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not a wound he just opened.

But Jungkook’s anger is building... slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, until it ignites like a spark to dry kindling. His eyes harden as they lock onto his father, the frustration rising in him, raw and unrelenting.

Without another word, he places his fork down with unnerving precision. The tension in his body is palpable, his entire form wound tight like a coiled spring, ready to snap. His gaze stays fixed, but his jaw tightens, clenching as he struggles to keep his composure.

“You’re gone for years....” Jungkook begins, his voice dangerously low. “And now, out of nowhere, you waltz back in like everything’s just fine. With this perfect little family of yours, this shiny new life you couldn’t build with us, couldn’t even try for us.”

He swallows, a shaky breath escaping his lips, and you can feel the shift in him, the hurt and the anger colliding. The words are spilling out, raw and unfiltered.

The lump in your throat tightens as you watch him unravel, but you’re frozen, unsure whether you should intervene, unsure if you have any right to stop the damage that’s unfolding. His words sting, not just for him, but for the silence that had been building for years.

“And now you’re sitting here, making all these judgments about my work, my life. Like you have any right to.”

You can feel the sharpness in his words... the resentment that’s been festering for years, now spilling out in the rawest form. His shoulders are taut with anger, every word like a punch that’s been waiting to land.

“You think you’re just going to walk back in and pick apart everything I’ve done like it doesn’t matter?” Jungkook’s voice rises, trembling with emotion now, a mixture of hurt, betrayal, and rage that he can no longer keep bottled up.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Who gave you the right to sit here and critique my life when you weren’t even there to see any of it? When you never bothered to show up? You couldn’t even be there when I needed you, but now you think you can judge me?”

His eyes are piercing now, burning with the fire of everything he’s held back, everything he’s kept silent for so long. His father tries to brush it off with a weak, awkward laugh, but it does nothing to lessen the weight of Jungkook’s words. The anger in his eyes is undeniable now, a storm that’s finally breaking free.

“You left us.” Jungkook continues, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You left me, and you’ve been gone for how many years now? And now you want to act like nothing’s wrong? Like I don’t have every right to be pissed off? You think I’m ‘dabbling’ in something? You think I haven’t been trying, every single day, to make something of myself despite you?”

His breath comes out in shallow gasps as he fights to keep himself under control, but the words are rushing out, unstoppable now. “You want to criticize me for not being where you think I should be, but you’re not the one who had to pick up the pieces of a life you broke. You’re not the one who had to do it alone.”

The table feels like it’s closing in on them, the distance between Jungkook and his father shrinking with every word that leaves his lips. The silence that follows is deafening, thick with the weight of everything that’s just been said, as if the whole world has paused for a moment.

There’s something raw in his expression now, something that speaks to the years of silence, of hurt, of being ignored and abandoned. He doesn’t look at his father... instead, his gaze shifts towards you, a momentary glance that conveys so much. It’s a mix of fury and something softer, something deeper, an unspoken vulnerability that he’s never shown before, that he can’t quite hide.

“Let’s go.” His voice is firm, almost a whisper, but the weight behind it is unmistakable. Without waiting for a response, without giving you a moment to collect yourself, Jungkook reaches across the table and grabs your hand. His grip is firm, almost desperate and you don’t fight it.

You don’t need to. You simply follow, stepping away from the table, from the wreckage of the moment, as Jungkook pulls you towards the exit.

You glance back briefly, hoping for some acknowledgment, some sign that his father recognizes the gravity of what just transpired, but when your eyes land on him, he’s looking down at his plate.

His face is masked in an unreadable expression, his shoulders stiff, almost as if he’s ashamed... ashamed of his own words, ashamed of the damage he’s done. But he doesn’t look up.

Before you know it, you’re outside, the cold night air biting at your skin, but you barely feel it. Jungkook’s hand still clutches yours, unwavering, as he leads you towards his car.

The world outside feels distant, muffled, as if you’re both in your own bubble, where the only thing that matters now is the pounding of your own hearts, the rhythm of your steps in sync, and the weight of everything that’s been said, everything that’s unfolded this evening.

The moment you slide into the car, Jungkook starts the engine without hesitation. He doesn’t say a word, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked on the road. The car speeds through the streets, the sound of the tires slicing through the silence.

You lean back against the seat, trying to steady your own breath, but your gaze keeps drifting towards him. His entire body is taut, vibrating with a mixture of anger and anguish. You want to tell him to slow down, to take a moment, to breathe... but you can see it. This is how he’s coping, how he’s channeling the storm raging inside him.

Suddenly, the car swerves to the side, tires screeching as he pulls over abruptly. The sharp sound jolts you forward slightly, the seatbelt digging into your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t move. His hands remain on the wheel, his head hanging low, shoulders heaving as heavy breaths escape him. He’s panting now, like he’s been holding his breath all this time, and it’s only now catching up to him.

Your heart aches at the sight of him... so strong, so composed to the outside world, but crumbling here in the quiet confines of this car. It’s as if the weight of everything has come crashing down on him all at once, drowning him in a sea of emotions he’s been fighting to keep at bay.

“Kook…” you whisper, your voice trembling as you reach out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The warmth of your touch meets the cold tension of his body, but he doesn’t respond. His head remains bowed, strands of hair falling forward to shield his face.

“Kook...” you call again, firmer this time, though your voice still wavers. Your fingers tighten slightly on his shoulder, hoping to calm him, to pull him back to you. But he stays silent, his breathing ragged, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

You want to say the right thing, do the right thing, but all you can do is sit there, your hand trembling against him, hoping he’ll let you in, hoping he’ll let you shoulder even a fragment of the weight crushing him.

“I’m sorry…” he breathes out, his voice hoarse, cracking with the weight of his emotions. “I’m sorry… I just—”

You cut him off gently, your voice soft yet firm. “It’s okay. It’s alright, Kook.” you reassure him, your words a quiet comfort in the storm of his thoughts. The car settles back into an uneasy silence as he continues to try and calm himself, his breaths slowly evening out.

Your eyes, however, wander to the world outside, searching for anything to distract him and you notice a convenience store across the street, the soft glow of the neon lights flickering in the night.

You exhale softly, the weight of the evening settling into your bones. With a quiet resolve, you remove your hand from his shoulder, gently unbuckling your seatbelt. You take a moment to steady yourself, then slide out of the car.

Jungkook’s gaze follows you, confusion flickering in his eyes. But he doesn’t stop you. He watches as you walk around the car, the tension still heavy in the air, and the night breeze lifting your hair.

You open his door, the cool air brushing against him. You stand there for a moment, offering him a steadying presence in the midst of his chaos. “Come on.” you say softly, extending your hand towards him, your voice gentle but insistent.

He hesitates for just a beat, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. But after a moment, something inside him shifts as he exhales. He pulls out the car keys and steps out, taking your hand. Before he crosses the road, he makes sure to lock his car.

His grip around your hand is loose but steady, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort you offer. Together, you step into the convenience store, leaving the tense air of the car behind.

The fluorescent lights inside hum softly, casting a warm, sterile glow over rows of shelves neatly stocked with snacks, drinks, and other essentials.

"Go sit down." you say gently, gesturing towards the long stools lined up against the table near the large glass window. There’s no protest, no hesitation from him. He simply nods, his shoulders still heavy with the weight of the evening, and obeys your words without a sound.

You watch him as he takes a seat, his gaze fixed on the faint reflections in the window. For a moment, he looks lost, his fingers resting idly on the table as if he’s trying to piece himself together.

Turning away, you head deeper into the store, scanning the aisles carefully. You grab two instant ramen cups, picking the spicy ones you know he loves, despite how he always complains they’re “too much” for him.

Then come the drinks... your hands hover over the beer section, selecting a few cans of his favorite brand. You add a few of his favorite snacks to your basket... dried squid, triangle gimbaps, and a packet of honey butter chips he secretly enjoys but never admits to buying for himself.

As you walk towards the counter, you notice a small display of sweets. You hesitate, then grab a pack of chocolate-covered almonds, hoping the small indulgence might bring a flicker of comfort to him.

Once the ramen finishes heating in the microwave and you’ve paid the cashier, you balance everything in your hands and the basket that rests over your arm, carefully making your way towards where he’s seated.

His posture hasn’t changed much, but his eyes shift towards you as you approach, a faint flicker of curiosity breaking through the lingering cloud of emotion.

You set everything on the table in front of him with a soft clatter, taking care not to disturb the quiet moment. The cups of steaming ramen, cans of beer, and neatly packaged snacks create a small spread of comfort between you.

Despite himself, an airy chuckle escapes his lips as his eyes sweep over the spread in front of him. The corners of his mouth twitch upward, a faint shadow of his usual smile, and the tension in his shoulders softens just a little.

You smile, too, relieved to see even the smallest crack in his stormy demeanor. “The food at that restaurant sucked.” you quip, shrugging dramatically as you pull a stool back to sit beside him. “I mean, seriously, watch this ramen be a thousand times better than whatever the hell they were serving in those fancy little plates.”

You shake your head, mock exasperation lacing your tone, and tear open a pair of disposable chopsticks with a flourish. “Who even needs that overpriced nonsense when we’ve got this? Gourmet instant ramen, beer, and the finest dried squid convenience stores have to offer. A real five-star experience, if you ask me.”

He huffs out another soft laugh, shaking his head as he finally picks up his chopsticks. “You’re ridiculous.” he mutters, but there’s no edge to his voice, just a warmth that wasn’t there before.

“And yet...” you tease, gesturing to him as he takes a bite of ramen. “Here you are, about to prove me right. Go on, admit it... it’s way better, isn’t it?”

His eyes crinkle slightly at the edges as he chews, the faintest trace of amusement lighting his face. “Okay, fine.” he mumbles, swallowing. “It’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” you gasp, clutching your chest like you’ve been gravely insulted. “This is peak dining, Jungkook. Show some respect.”

He chuckles again, a little louder this time, and the sound is enough to ease the knot in your chest.

As you take another bite of your ramen, Jungkook swallows, his gaze flickering to your face. His chest tightens as he realizes what you're doing... the way you're silently trying to comfort him, to lift his spirits without any grand gestures or unnecessary words.

It's in the little things... the snacks you picked out, the casual humor you’ve thrown his way, and the soft presence you offer, asking for nothing in return.

His eyes drift to the pack of chocolate-covered almonds near your arm, and a small smile creeps onto his lips. He remembers how often he eats those, and it hits him... you noticed. You remembered. Something about that small gesture makes his heart flip.

“Thank you.” he blurts out, the words escaping before he can stop them. You pause mid-chew, looking at him with wide, curious eyes. He catches the way your lips glisten, slightly stained orange from the ramen broth, and a soft laugh escapes him despite himself.

Smoothly, he pulls your stool closer to his, the sound of its legs scraping the floor as you gasp, shocked by the sudden movement. With a tenderness that makes your breath hitch, he lifts his hand, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips.

The touch is fleeting, but it lingers in the warmth of his fingers as he wipes away the stain and licks the remnants off his thumb with an ease that makes your heart stutter. Your chest tightens, but you keep your composure, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for tonight, Y/n.” he repeats, quieter this time.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you place your chopsticks down and lean forward, resting your elbows on the table. “You don’t have to thank me.” you say softly, your voice a gentle balm to the wounds left behind from dinner.

The silence between you is comforting, not heavy like before but warm and steady, like a tether grounding him in the present. His eyes hold yours, earnest and searching, as though he’s trying to memorize the way you look at him... with a kindness he doesn’t feel he deserves.

After a moment, you break the silence. “Your dad might not see it...” you start, your voice quiet but steady. “but, Kook... you’ve come so far.”

His throat tightens, and he glances down at your hands as they move towards his, your fingers brushing lightly against his knuckles. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few months...” you continue. “But every time I see you, every time I talk to you, it amazes me just how incredible you are as a person.”

Your thumb grazes over his skin, soft and tender, as if to emphasize your words. “You’re doing so well... more than well. You’re strong, talented, and you care so deeply. I see it in everything you do, and I wish you could see it too. Your work, your life... everything about you... you should always be proud of yourself.”

His breath hitches at the sincerity in your voice, and for a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. The lump in his throat feels impossible to swallow, and his eyes sting with emotions he’s been holding back for too long.

"Y/n..." Jungkook whispers, his voice cracking, betraying the storm brewing inside him. His hand trembles slightly as it covers yours, the warmth of your skin grounding him in a way he didn’t know he needed. His gaze clings to you, raw and unguarded, his eyes silently pleading for something he can’t quite put into words.

You don't hesitate. With a soft shift, you lean forward, wrapping your arms around him in an embrace that feels like home. He stiffens at first, his body still caught in the tension of everything that had unfolded tonight, but then he lets go.

He melts into you, his arms encircling your waist as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His chin rests on your shoulder, and he gulps hard, his breath warm against your neck as your fingers stroke his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I got you.” you whisper, your voice soft but steady, like an anchor in the middle of his chaos.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word as you hold him, his silence louder than anything he could ever voice. He stays still in your arms, the weight of your embrace settling over him like a warm blanket on a cold, unforgiving night.

His breathing is uneven, shallow, like he’s fighting to keep it together, but the war inside him is spilling over, breaking through every crack he’s tried so desperately to seal.

He feels your fingers move in soothing circles on his back, as if you know he’s seconds away from shattering. Maybe you do... and maybe that’s what terrifies him the most. That you see him, the real him, stripped of all the defenses and bravado he’s spent years perfecting.

His chin rests against your shoulder, and for a moment, he allows himself to close his eyes and just feel. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest.

The faint scent of your hair, something floral and comforting that he’s come to associate with you. The warmth of your body, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that’s been clawing at him since dinner.

And yet, it’s that very warmth that terrifies him.

Because as he stays here, enveloped in your touch, Jungkook realizes something he’s been avoiding for the past few months now... this is no longer casual.

His mind flashes to every moment that led to this... your laugh echoing through his apartment when he'd tickle you, the way you'd rant animatedly about random kdramas, the way your arms would instinctively wrap around him in bed after a long night, the way you’d unconsciously hum along to songs he never thought anyone else knew, and the way you always seemed to understand exactly what he needed without him ever saying a word.

It was never supposed to be this deep, this intimate. Yet here you are, holding him as if he’s the most precious thing in the world, and Jungkook can feel the last fragile threads of his resolve unraveling, slipping right through his fingers.

The truth presses against his chest, suffocating in its intensity, relentless and consuming, demanding to be acknowledged.

He is so fucked... so utterly and irreversibly... fucked.

His chest constricts, each breath growing heavier under the crushing weight of his realization. This... this isn’t what friends-with-benefits is supposed to feel like.

It’s not supposed to haunt him in the quiet moments, the spaces between your touch and his thoughts, where your laughter lingers like a melody he can’t forget. It’s not supposed to leave him aching at the mere thought of you slipping out of his life, of not being able to see the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh or hear the way your voice softens when you call his name.

It’s not supposed to make him feel so desperate... desperate to shield you from every harsh word, every unkind gaze, every fleeting pain the world might dare to throw your way.

It’s not supposed to consume him like this, like you’ve burrowed so deeply into the fabric of his being that the idea of losing you is not just painful but catastrophic. Like the very thought of it would kill him, leave him hollow, stripped of whatever fragile sense of balance he’s been clinging to.

No, it’s not supposed to feel like you’ve become the center of his universe, the axis upon which everything turns. But it does. And it terrifies him.

Jungkook’s arms tighten around you, almost instinctively, as if holding you closer might stop the avalanche of emotions threatening to crush him. But even as he clings to you, there’s a part of him that feels unworthy of this moment, of you.

The words echo in his mind like a cruel mantra... You deserve better than me. Someone who isn’t afraid to love you. Someone who can love you proudly, without hesitation, without fear.

He wants to tell you, to pour it all out in one breathless confession, but the words lodge in his throat, tangled with fear and doubt. How could he ever tell you what’s in his heart when he’s not even sure he deserves to feel this way?

Instead, he lets the silence stretch, his head tilting just slightly to press against yours. He breathes you in, committing every detail of this moment to memory... the way your touch feels like a balm against the chaos inside him, the way your presence is the only thing anchoring him to the ground.

And as much as he wants to stay here forever, he knows this fragile bubble is destined to burst. Every second spent in your arms is a second closer to the inevitable heartbreak, a cruel countdown to when reality will force its way back in.

Because the deeper he lets himself fall, the clearer it becomes... he’s risking everything. Risking you. Risking the only connection that makes his chaotic life feel even remotely steady.

But for now, just for this fleeting moment, he allows himself to hold you a little tighter. To bury his face in the crook of your neck and breathe you in, pretending, against all logic, that maybe... just maybe he could ever be enough for you. That he could ever be what you deserve.

Yet, even as the thought crosses his mind, a hollow ache settles deep in his chest. He knows this has to end. Knows he’s already let it go too far. Because if he doesn’t stop this now, if he doesn’t break it before it breaks him... he’ll be left with nothing but shattered pieces of what could’ve been.

And the worst part? He’s not sure if he’s strong enough to walk away.

"The washing machine stopped working again." Heejin groans as she plops down next to you on the couch. You’re focused on your laptop, your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, eyes locked on the screen as you type away.

"Really?" you ask, barely pulling your attention away from your work.

She hums, inching closer to you, her voice tinged with slight irritation. "Maybe I should call Joonie and ask him to take a look." At the mention of Namjoon’s name, your mind shifts and you instantly think of Jungkook.

It’s been a week since that night... the dinner with his father, the comforting silence in the convenience store. And ever since then, there’s been nothing. No texts, no calls, no secret meetups.

The emptiness of his absence sits like a heavy weight in your chest. You tell yourself it’s probably just him recovering, or maybe he's caught up in work, but each passing day without a word only deepens the ache inside.

Heejin stands up to grab a blanket from her room, and without thinking, you pull out your phone. Your fingers hover over Jungkook’s contact, almost unconsciously. You check for any new messages, but the screen remains blank, void of any sign from him.

Your heart sinks a little, the silence louder than ever before. You miss him. It stings more than you want to admit, but you don’t want to chase him either. You tell yourself that maybe he does need space. Maybe this is the time for him to work through his own emotions, to deal with everything on his terms.

Heejin returns with her blanket, and you quickly tuck your phone away, returning to your work, but the weight of his radio silence lingers in the back of your mind no matter how hard you try to push it away.

Another weeks passes, and the silence remains. But this time, the weight of it feels different. It’s heavier, sharper, and impossible to ignore because you tried—God, you tried.

Your calls stayed unanswered, your texts stayed unread, you even hovered over the thought of showing up at his doorstep unannounced. But every time, you stopped yourself. You didn’t want to cross that line, didn’t want to risk getting caught by Namjoon unnecessarily.

Yet the void Jungkook left behind was consuming you. The overbearing absence of his presence aches in a way you didn’t know was possible. Your body longs to feel the warmth of his embrace again, your ears crave the sound of his laugh, and your eyes sting with the thought of seeing his face after so long.

The past two weeks have been a harsh teacher, forcing you to notice all the tiny ways he had become such an integral part of your life. How his laughter used to echo through your apartment, turning even the dullest moments into something bright and beautiful.

His habits, his quirks... things you’d once thought were fleeting moments in the chaos of your casual arrangement, linger like ghosts in every corner of your mind. You miss it all so deeply, it hurts.

But it’s not just the memories that haunt you, it’s what they’ve left behind. The silence, though painful, has forced you to confront feelings you’d been too afraid to name. Late nights spent tossing and turning, your mind and heart waging their endless battle, have led you to one undeniable truth.

What you feel for Jungkook isn’t casual anymore.

It’s in the way you think of him first thing in the morning, hoping for a text or call that never comes. It’s in the way your chest tightens when you see couples on the street, reminding you of the comfort you’d found in his arms. It’s in the way the mere thought of losing him for good sends a pang of panic racing through you.

Your spiral of thoughts is abruptly interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, the sharp chime slicing through the heavy silence of your room. You blink, momentarily disoriented, before sighing and dragging yourself out of bed. Each step feels heavier than the last as you shuffle towards the front door.

When you pull it open, the sight of Namjoon standing there is almost a welcome distraction. His easy smile greets you like a brief reprieve from your stormy thoughts. “Hey, Namjoon.” you murmur, your voice lacking its usual cheer as you step aside to let him in.

“Hey.” he replies warmly, his eyes scanning your face briefly, probably noticing the weariness there but deciding not to comment on it. "Heejin’s in the shower.” you inform him as you shut the door behind him, gesturing vaguely towards her room.

He nods in understanding, already making his way towards their usual hangout spot without missing a beat.

Being in the same house as a couple feels like a cruel joke, their easy affection a stark contrast to the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside you. You retreat to your room, ready to drown in your thoughts and overanalyze everything yet again.

Just as you collapse onto your bed, a realization strikes. If Namjoon’s here, then Jungkook is likely alone right now. You wonder if he’s out or at home, but something pushes you to take a chance.

It might look like you're crossing a line to show up unannounced, but you can’t hold back any longer. Grabbing your things, you decide to head to his place and hope he’s there.

Jungkook sits in his apartment, the television flickering before him, its sound barely registering in his mind. It hums faintly in the background, a noise easily drowned out by the storm of thoughts that refuse to leave him alone.

The past two weeks have been nothing short of torment... a slow, relentless ache that’s left him feeling hollow. Every ignored text, every call he let ring unanswered claws at him like a wound that refuses to close.

He doesn’t know if he’s being utterly foolish for acting this way, but the truth is, the depth of his own feelings terrifies him. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not in something so explicitly defined as casual.

Being afraid of love and the chaos it brings, is one thing. Breaking the fundamental rule of a friends-with-benefits arrangement is another.

He thought space would help, thought it would douse the fire raging in him, thought it would subside the emotions he never meant to feel. He believed that with time, he could return to who he was before you, before your laughter became the soundtrack of his nights, before the feel of your lips left him breathless, before he started craving you like air.

But the truth is, the distance didn’t make him realize he could live without you. It only made him realize just how deeply you’ve embedded yourself into his life. Into his soul.

And somehow, it’s not just longing that grips him now... it’s a quiet, agonizing resolve. Over these two weeks, he’s turned every possible scenario over in his mind, replayed every moment between you, considered every way this could go.

And no matter how much he wishes it wasn't true, he keeps coming back to the same conclusion... he has to end it.

It tears him apart to even think about it, but he knows it’s the only way. This was never meant to be more than something temporary, something light, something that wouldn’t leave scars. But now, it’s everything but that.

He tells himself it’s for the best, that staying in this casual arrangement is only going to hurt him in the end. Because no matter how much he wants to deny it, he knows he’s already broken the cardinal rule. He’s in love. Deeply. Irrevocably.

And that’s why he has to let you go.

He’d rather cut the cord now than risk dragging you down into the mess of his own emotions, his own doubts, his own fears, his own insecurities.

He doesn’t know when he’ll summon the courage to face you, to say the words aloud and confront the devastation they’ll bring. For now, all he can do is be a coward. All he can do is shut you out, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this will hurt less if he pretends it doesn’t already.

But then, a sudden knock on the front door startles him, yanking him out of the relentless battle raging in his mind. His brows furrow as he wonders who it could be.

Namjoon had just left not long ago, and there’s no way he’d be back so soon. With a sigh, Jungkook rises from the couch, running his fingers through his disheveled hair, trying to push away the unease tightening in his chest.

When he grips the doorknob and pulls it open, his eyes widen in shock, his breath catching the instant they land on you. "Hey." you breathe, a soft smile tugging at your lips. The casual warmth in your voice leaves him momentarily paralyzed, his mind scrambling to process your presence.

"Not gonna let me in?" you ask softly, tilting your head in a way that only makes his chest tighten further.

Jungkook gulps, realizing he’s been standing there, staring like an idiot. He quickly steps aside, his movements awkward as he gestures for you to enter. "Uh... yeah, come in." he mutters, his voice low and rough.

You purse your lips, stepping inside with an easy familiarity, slipping off your shoes like it’s second nature. Jungkook’s heart pounds in his chest as his gaze involuntarily travels to you... oversized sweater, shorts, effortlessly stunning. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, you always seem to have this effect on him, this magnetic pull that leaves him breathless and unsteady.

He hates it. Hates the way you’re so breathtaking in the cruelest way, how easily you unravel him without even trying. He quickly shakes the thoughts away, forcing himself to focus as he closes the door with a quiet click.

"Namjoon came over, so I figured you’d be alone." you say, breaking the heavy silence as you wander into the living room. Jungkook follows closely, his steps hesitant. You take a seat on the couch, your gaze lifting to meet his as though silently urging him to join you.

He hesitates but eventually sits down, though it’s clear from the space he deliberately leaves between you that something is different. The distance isn’t just physical... it’s a chasm of unspoken words and withheld emotions, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your eyes drop to the space between you, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady the unease building in your chest. "How have you been?" you ask softly, searching his face for any sign of emotion, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His gaze is fixed on his hands, fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap.

"I’ve been... busy." he mutters, the words almost a whisper. The faint tremor in his voice doesn’t escape you, nor does the very obvious lie.

You nod slowly, leaning back against the couch, your mind racing as you try to decipher his behavior. The silence that follows is thick, oppressive, and maddening in its weight. Unable to bear it any longer, you shift closer, closing the gap between you two.

"Kook, what’s wrong?" you ask, your hand reaching out to gently rest on his arm. "It’s been two weeks since I heard from you... after that dinner with your dad. Is everything okay? Are you having a hard time?"

Your voice is warm and laced with genuine concern, and it only makes his chest ache more. He feels like a complete jerk for shutting you out, for the way he ghosted you these past few days. But he can’t let that guilt sway him, can’t let it unravel the wall he’s painstakingly built around himself.

He inhales sharply, willing himself to stay composed as he shakes his head. "I’m... I’m fine." he says, the words clipped and distant.

The simplicity of his response, the cold detachment, ignites something in you. Frustration bubbles to the surface, pushing you to the edge.

"Seriously, what’s wrong?" you press, your voice rising slightly, the cracks of emotion beginning to show. "For two weeks, you’ve ignored my texts, my calls, and now, when I’m finally here... when I’m finally seeing you again... it’s like you don’t even want me here. What’s going on, Kook?"

Your words hang in the air, a mix of anger and vulnerability that makes him falter. He swallows hard, his fists clenching as he struggles to find the right words, to say anything that won’t betray the chaos in his heart.

A sigh escapes your lips when he remains silent, his refusal to respond only heightening your frustration. Your lips quiver slightly, and with great hesitation, you reach for his face, your fingers brushing gently against his skin.

"Kook... look at me." you almost plead, your voice soft yet trembling with emotion as you guide his face to meet your gaze. His empty eyes finally lock onto yours, and the sight sends a pang through your chest. You can’t read him, can’t discern the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

"Kook, is this about the night after the dinner with your dad?" you ask tentatively, your voice wavering. "Did I say something wrong that night? Did I... offend you?"

You grasp at straws, your mind racing to piece together a reason for his distance. The thought that you might’ve unknowingly hurt him gnaws at you, and guilt threatens to creep in. Maybe it’s something you said, or maybe it’s something you didn’t say... whatever it is, you just want to understand.

Jungkook’s eyes scan your face, taking in every detail... the softness in your expression, the way your concern feels almost tangible, and the tender warmth of your palm against his cheek. It overwhelms him.

His gaze lingers on your eyes, your nose, your lips... those lips he’s thought about far too many times. The pull he feels towards you is magnetic, and for a moment, he nearly gives in to the urge to close the space between you and just kiss you senseless.

But that’s the last thing he should be thinking about right now.

Abruptly, he stands up from the couch, retreating from your touch like it burns. "Why do you even care?" he blurts out. Your eyes widen, confusion washing over you like a cold wave. "What?" you ask as you look up at him, searching his face for an explanation.

"Yeah..." he exhales, his voice sharper now, laced with something you can’t quite place... anger, frustration, pain. "Why do you even care?" he repeats.

The words hang heavy in the air, and you blink at him, unable to immediately respond. All you can focus on is the way he looks at you, the storm in his eyes, the tension etched into his furrowed brows, the clench of his jaw as if he's trying to keep himself together.

"This... this whole thing between us..." He pauses, gesturing to the space between you with his hands as though it holds the weight of every unspoken word, every unsaid truth. "It was never meant to be anything more than a fucking arrangement, Y/n."

His words cut through you, but he doesn’t stop. His voice rises, teetering on the edge of control, each crack in his tone exposing the emotions he’s desperately trying to bury. "So why the hell... why the hell are you acting like you’re so invested? Why are you making this into something that it’s not?"

Your chest tightens as you scramble to find your footing in the storm of his words. "Kook, what are you talking about?" you ask, your voice laced with confusion and a hint of desperation as you rise from the couch to meet him on level ground. "I'm just asking you because I'm worried—"

"You don’t have to be worried, Y/n." he cuts you off abruptly, his tone harsh and unforgiving. "We’re just fuckbuddies. So why... why do you have to be worried about me?"

The word hits you like a slap, each syllable a sting that reverberates through your chest. He’s right... technically, he’s right... but the way he dismisses your genuine concern, the way he reduces everything you feel to something so cold, so transactional, makes it feel like a dagger twisting deep within you.

"So just because we’re fuckbuddies, I don’t have the right to care about you?" you manage, your voice trembling, the sting in your eyes now threatening to spill over.

"Yes." he snaps, his voice raw and breaking under the weight of his own declaration. "Because what we have... it’s not supposed to be deep. No strings attached, remember?" He takes a step closer, the space between you closing but the emotional chasm widening. His words, harsh and final, make your ears burn, your throat tighten.

You feel your chest constrict, the ache settling deep, almost unbearable. It’s a suffocating mix of frustration and pain, the kind of pain that doesn’t just sting, it leaves scars.

How could he dismiss you so easily? How could he reduce you to nothing more than a passing moment, as though everything you’ve shared, every laugh, every vulnerable glance, was just a fragment of a fleeting connection?

Your voice trembles, but you refuse to back down. "Do you really believe that? That just because we agreed to this... this label, I’m not allowed to care? Do you honestly think it’s that simple?"

He doesn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightens, his gaze fixed on some invisible point far away, as if looking at you might shatter whatever resolve he’s clinging to. The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating, louder than any argument.

"It’s not that simple." he finally breathes, the weight of his admission hanging in the air. You blink quickly, willing away the tears threatening to spill as you wait for him to continue.

"And that’s why..." His voice falters, his hands coming to rest on his hips. He looks like he’s grappling with words too heavy to say, the silence stretching unbearably until he finally speaks again, his tone sharper this time. "That’s why we should stop this."

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, leaving you breathless. "What?" you whisper, your voice barely audible. You step towards him, desperate for him to meet your gaze, to take back what he’s just said. But he doesn’t. He turns his back to you instead, as if shielding himself from the impact of your reaction.

"Let’s stop this." he says again, his voice steadier now, more certain, though the tension in his frame betrays the turmoil beneath his calm facade. "Friends with benefits, or whatever you want to call it... I don’t want to do it anymore."

His declaration lands like a blow, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your voice wavers, but the pain laced within it is unmistakable. "So that's... that's all I am to you?" you ask, your eyes searching for any sign that he doesn’t mean it.

He flinches, as though your words have physically struck him. "Y/n—" he turns around, but you cut him off, the ache in your heart spilling over into your voice.

"Just your fuckbuddy?" you demand, louder this time, each word slicing through the suffocating silence between you. He closes his eyes, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your question. It’s not that he doesn’t want to answer... he just doesn’t know how to. Not when the truth is far messier than he can admit.

You step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. "Say something, Jungkook." you plead, your voice breaking. "Tell me that’s all I’ve ever been to you. Say it to my face if that’s what you really believe."

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists as he struggles to find the words. "It’s not..." he begins, his voice faltering before he tries again, quieter this time. "It’s not that simple."

Your heart twists painfully at his hesitation. "Then what is it, Kook? What are you so afraid of?" you ask, your tone softening, though the hurt remains. "Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re the one complicating this. Not me."

He turns his back to you again, running a hand through his hair as if trying to compose himself. "I’m not afraid." he mutters, though the tremor in his voice betrays him.

"Then look at me." you demand, stepping closer until you’re right behind him. "Look me in the eyes and tell me why you’re doing this. Why you’re ending something that we both know is more than just an arrangement."

He freezes, his back rigid, before finally turning around. His gaze meets yours, and the vulnerability in his eyes nearly undoes you. "Because it’s too much." he admits, his voice raw and unsteady. "You’re too much, Y/n."

"Too much?" you echo, confused and hurt. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I can’t handle this anymore." he snaps, the frustration in his voice cracking through the air like a whip. His breathing is uneven, and his eyes burn with a mix of anger and vulnerability.

"I can’t handle how you’re always there, how you look at me like I’m someone worth saving, like I’m someone who deserves your care." His voice shakes now, the anger dissolving into something softer, something achingly raw. "Because I’m not, Y/n. I’m not, and I hate that you don’t see it."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless as you try to comprehend the layers of emotion behind them. "Jungkook..." you whisper, but he shakes his head, cutting you off before you can even begin to respond.

"No." he continues, his tone growing quieter, though the pain in his voice is deafening. "I can’t handle the way you make me feel... like I’m losing control of everything I thought I had figured out. Like I’ll never be enough for you, but I still want you anyway."

He exhales sharply, his hand running through his hair as if the motion could somehow ease the storm raging inside him. "God, I want you so badly, and that terrifies me."

Your heart clenches at the confession, at the rawness in his voice that he’s trying so hard to conceal. "Why does it terrify you, Kook?" you ask softly. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that you are enough? That you’ve always been enough for me?"

He lets out a bitter laugh, his eyes glistening as he avoids your gaze. "Because I’ve never been enough for anyone." he admits, his voice cracking on the last word.

"Not for my mom, not for my dad, not for the people who were supposed to care about me. I’ve always been the one left behind, the one who never measured up. And now you’re here, making me feel things I shouldn’t feel, making want things I don’t deserve... and I can’t—" His voice falters, and he looks away, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his own insecurities.

"Jungkook..." you whisper, your hand reaching out instinctively, but he steps back, out of your reach. "Don’t." he says, his voice barely holding together. "Don’t make this harder than it already is."

You swallow hard, your chest tightening as tears blur your vision. "So you’re just going to walk away? Just like that?" you ask, your voice trembling. "You’re going to throw everything away because you’re scared of feeling something real?"

"It’s not about being scared." he says, his voice rising before it cracks under the weight of his emotions. "It’s about knowing when to stop before we destroy each other."

Your lips part, but no words come out. He exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair in frustration. "I can’t do this anymore, Y/n." he says, the finality in his tone cutting deeper than any argument. "I’m sorry... but... but we’re done."

And just like that, he turns and walks away, each step echoing with the sound of your heart breaking into pieces too fragile to ever be whole again.

"Wow, you look like shit." Namjoon scoffs, leaning back in his chair as he watches Jungkook shuffle out of his room. His movements are sluggish, his hair a tangled mess, and the dark circles under his eyes stand out starkly against his pale skin.

"Seriously, Kook, you’ve been like this for a week straight. You reek of alcohol. Are you... are you even showering?" Namjoon’s voice is laced with concern, though he tries to mask it with his usual bluntness.

Jungkook doesn’t reply. He drags his feet across the floor and heads into the kitchen without so much as a glance in Namjoon’s direction.

The sound of a cupboard creaking open fills the silence as he grabs a glass and fills it with water. He gulps it down like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality, but it does little to ease the ache that’s settled in his chest.

It’s been a week since everything officially ended between you and him, and if he’s honest, he’s not okay. Not even close. This past week has been unbearable, worse than the initial two-week break when he’d tried to convince himself that distance was what he needed.

This time, there’s no illusion of reconciliation, no faint glimmer of hope. This time, he knows it’s over... truly, undeniably over and it’s all his fault.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the look on your face from that night. The hurt in your eyes, the way your voice trembled as you begged him to just admit how he felt. He remembers every word, every tear, every moment he stood there like a coward and let you believe that you didn’t matter to him.

It replays in his mind like a cruel loop, haunting him in the quiet hours of the night when he’s too tired to fight off the memories but too restless to sleep.

The weight of his regret is suffocating. He can’t escape the gnawing realization that he let you go, not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much. Because of his own fears, his own warped perceptions of what he thought he could never be for you, he pushed you away.

And now, the space where you used to be feels like a gaping void, one he doesn’t know how to fill.

His grip tightens around the glass in his hand and his jaw clenches, staring at the water as though it holds the answers to the questions he’s too afraid to ask himself.

He let you slip away. No... he let you walk away, let you fall through his fingers like you were never meant to stay. And the worst part? He can’t even blame you.

He knows it’s on him, that he was the one who stood in his own way, who chose to silence his heart instead of giving you the truth you deserved.

"Kook..." Namjoon’s voice cuts through the silence again, softer this time as he stands by the entrance of the kitchen. "You’ve gotta pull yourself together, man. Whatever’s eating you alive, you need to face it."

But Jungkook just shakes his head, setting the glass down on the counter with a hollow thud.

Face it? How do you face the kind of pain that doesn’t just hurt but consumes? How do you face losing the one person who made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you were worth loving?

"It's not a date." you groan, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips. "Sure, sure. She straightened her hair, she's wearing gloss, and... girl, that dress?" Heejin quirks an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she lounges on your bed, legs crossed like she’s the queen of calling you out. "And she says it’s not a date."

You roll your eyes, reaching for your eyeliner. "Oh, come on. My other coworkers are going to be there too. It’s just a fancy dinner." you say, your tone dismissive.

"Right. Just a fancy dinner." she repeats, dragging the words out mockingly. "Totally explains the extra effort, though. Is that perfume I smell?"

Ignoring her, you focus on the mirror. Tonight wasn’t about looking good for anyone. It was about showing up because you were supposed to.

Jimin, one of your coworkers, had invited the team to celebrate the success of his major project. It was a big milestone for him, and honestly, you weren’t in the mood to attend. Especially after the week you’d just had.

Not hearing from Jungkook yet again had been harder than you wanted to admit. You’d drowned yourself in work to distract your mind, but it wasn’t enough to stop the ache from creeping in. You missed him. But the way he ended things with you had left a crack in your heart that no amount of distraction could fully numb.

You understood his avoidant nature, why the thought of something real scared him, but what hurt most was how easily he’d walked away, as if ending things was less painful than facing the possibility of love.

You got it... love was terrifying. Who wasn’t scared of it? But for Jungkook, you were willing to try, willing to risk the heartbreak. Because to you, he was worth it.

Yet, when you realized he probably didn’t feel the same way, the crushing weight of rejection had knocked the wind out of you. For two days, you cried in the secrecy of your room, muffling the sobs so Heejin wouldn’t pry.

And then, when the tears dried up, you forced yourself into overdrive. You worked, worked, and worked.. taking on overtime, staring at endless rows of spreadsheets and lines of code, anything to avoid the haunting thoughts of him.

But tonight’s dinner was different. It was mildly official, and skipping it felt wrong. Jimin had put so much effort into organizing it, and he deserved to be celebrated.

Besides, Jimin wasn’t just any coworker. He was kind, thoughtful in ways that went beyond professional courtesy. When he’d once tried to pursue you romantically, you’d turned him down, but he had taken it in stride. No bitterness, no awkwardness. Just a quiet acceptance that made you feel both guilty and grateful.

Where others might have let their egos sour things, Jimin remained warm and genuine. He’d greet you with a smile whenever your paths crossed, whether in the hallway or the coffee room. If you ever looked like you were struggling, he’d help without hesitation.

So, despite the weight in your chest, showing up for someone as thoughtful as Jimin felt like the least you could do but of course, your best friend seemed convinced it was more than that... that it was a date, and perhaps, the moment you were finally giving this guy a chance.

"Anyways, you have fun on your date, and you better..." Heejin pauses dramatically, sliding off your bed and heading for the door. She turns back briefly, a playful smirk on her face.

"You better give me all the details later... I'm going over to Joon's.... Bye !!" she yells as she disappears down the hall, not giving you a chance to refute her very obviously wrong assumption. You click your tongue in annoyance, muttering under your breath as you turn back to your reflection. "It’s not a date." you grumble.

Jungkook hears the doorbell ring from his room, followed by a burst of laughter and giggles that ripple through the quiet apartment. He immediately knows... Heejin is here, and judging by the warmth in their tones, she and Namjoon are basking in the kind of easy, natural affection that comes with being utterly, unapologetically in love.

He sighs heavily, shifting onto his side on his bed to face the wall as if the action might shield him from the noise and the ache in his chest. The sound of their voices feels both comforting and cruel. He can’t help but think about how effortless they seem together, how simple love looks from the outside.

That could’ve been us. he thinks bitterly. No, that should’ve been us.

But things between you and him has never been simple, and now it's nothing at all. Not after he walked away, too paralyzed by his own fears and insecurities to let himself fall fully into you. Not after he let the cracks between you widen into a chasm too vast to cross.

The hours drag by. The muffled hum of conversation outside serves as background noise to the storm of thoughts raging in his mind. He tries to ignore it, tries to lose himself in the numbness.

But even the numbness isn’t enough to drown out the memory of you and just how much he misses you. Suddenly, his throat feels dry, almost unbearably so. He groans softly, swinging his legs off the bed and heading for the door. The need for water outweighs his reluctance to face the world outside his room.

But just as his hand brushes the doorknob, a snippet of conversation freezes him in place. Heejin’s voice is clearer now, carrying through the thin walls. "So, I finally think she gave him a chance." she says, her tone light, almost teasing.

Jungkook’s hand tightens on the doorknob. His breath catches in his throat, and despite himself, he leans closer, his curiosity piqued. "Wait." Namjoon’s voice follows, laced with intrigue. "So this guy... Jimin... asked Y/N out a year ago?"

Jungkook feels his chest tighten, your name hitting him like a punch to the gut. He stands still, holding his breath as Heejin continues, oblivious to the audience just a few feet away.

"Yes! She told me he asked her out on a date, but she didn’t really see him like that, so she turned him down." Heejin explains. There’s a pause, followed by a slight giggle.

"And today, she was getting all dressed up, she was wearing this really pretty dress... and she told me it’s just a fancy dinner or something with her coworkers. But honestly, I just think she’s finally going on a date with him."

Jungkook’s heart plummets, an unbearable weight settling in his chest. He waits, his body tense, as Namjoon responds. "Wow." Namjoon says. "If it’s actually a date, then that’s good for her."

"I know, right?" Heejin adds, her voice filled with excitement. "I’ve seen Jimin before when I dropped her off at work once. And no offense, babe, but he’s so good-looking."

"Hey, why would I take offense?" Namjoon replies, laughing lightly. "You can appreciate a good-looking man if you see one. I’m a secure guy... don’t worry." Their laughter fades into muffled chatter again, but Jungkook barely hears it. His mind is a storm, a mess of emotions he can’t fully untangle.

Jimin. The name is unfamiliar, and that only makes it worse. Jungkook’s brows furrow as he turns around and leans back against the door, his thoughts racing. Who is this guy? He tries to conjure an image, but his mind offers nothing.

What was this guy like? Was he soft-spoken and gentle? Did he make you laugh the way Jungkook used to? Was he everything Jungkook had been too afraid to be?

Jealousy burns in his chest, hot and raw, but it’s tangled with regret and something darker... self-loathing. He had no right to feel this way, not when he was the one who let you go. Not when he was the one who let fear and doubt cloud his judgment and drive you away.

Jungkook sinks back onto his bed, his thirst long forgotten, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he stares at the ceiling. The image of you, dressed up for someone else, burns behind his eyes and he feels truly, utterly helpless.

Another hour passes, and Jungkook has been tossing and turning on his bed. The muffled sounds of conversation from earlier have faded into silence, and he assumes Namjoon and Heejin have retreated to Namjoon's room. The quiet only amplifies the storm in his head.

He grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time... 10:46 pm. His chest tightens as his thoughts spiral. Is she still on that date? Is she still with that guy... Jimin?

His breathing quickens, an inexplicable urge blooming in his chest. He needs to see you, to know if you’re really with someone else, to catch even a fleeting glimpse of you. It’s reckless and irrational, but the thought of sitting in his room for another second feels unbearable.

Scrambling out of bed, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down, then splashes cold water on his face in the bathroom. He doesn’t think, he just moves, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

The drive to your building feels both endless and instantaneous, his mind a blur of emotion. He parks his car a few meters away, hands gripping the steering wheel as he glances towards your apartment building. The lights outside are dim, the night quiet except for the occasional car passing by.

Just as he’s about to step out, a sleek car pulls up to the curb right outside your building. Jungkook freezes, his pulse pounding in his ears as he watches.

An unfamiliar man steps out from the driver’s side, his movements brisk and purposeful as he rounds the car. Jungkook’s breath catches when the man opens the passenger door, and you step out.

His chest constricts as he takes you in. You’re wearing a blazer that clearly doesn't belong to you, draped over your shoulders, your steps slightly unsteady as you move. The man, reaches out to steady you, his fingers curling around your arm in a gesture that seems both protective and intimate.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. So that’s Jimin, he thinks bitterly, his jaw clenching as his eyes lock on the scene.

You’re smiling at the man, saying something Jungkook can’t hear from the distance. But the way your face lights up, the way you seem so at ease with him, makes his chest ache.

The sight is too much. The edges of his vision blur, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he starts his car again. He doesn’t wait to see how the interaction ends. He can’t.

As he drives away, his heart feels like it’s splintering, shards of regret and jealousy slicing through him. His vision blurs, the glow of the streetlights smeared by unshed tears.

"You really didn’t have to drive me home, Jimin." you say softly, your voice carrying a hint of warmth as you glance at him. Jimin offers a boyish grin, shaking his head. "Oh, please, Y/n, it’s the least I could do. You know that."

You chuckle lightly, reaching up to shrug off the blazer draped over your shoulders. The fabric feels heavier than it looks, but it had kept you warm through the chilly night. "Thank you for this." you say, handing it back to him. "And congrats again, Jimin. Tonight's dinner was amazing, thanks for inviting me."

Jimin takes the blazer from you, his grin softening into something more genuine. "That means a lot, Y/n. But really, the thanks should go to you for showing up. It wouldn’t have been half as special without you there."

You shake your head, brushing his words off with a small laugh. "Well, I’m glad I could be part of it." you say lightly. Your gaze shifts past him towards his car, where you catch a glimpse of Soobin, one of your other coworkers, slumped in the backseat, his head lolling against the window.

"Man..." you breathe out, crossing your arms. "How many glasses of champagne did he have tonight?"

Jimin follows your gaze and lets out an exasperated laugh. "I stopped keeping track after four. At some point, I just accepted my fate as his designated driver." he says with a dramatic sigh.

You giggle at the visual. "Well, good luck hauling him up his stairs." you say, tilting your heads toward the car.

"Thanks, I’m going to need it." he sighs, running a hand through his hair before grinning at you again. "Anyway, I should really get him home before he turns into an actual problem. I’ll see you on Monday?"

"Monday it is." you confirm with a nod, your smile unwavering. "Good night, Jimin."

"Good night, Y/n." he replies, retreating back to his car. You watch as he opens the driver’s door, throwing a quick glance towards the backseat where Soobin drunkenly mumbles something incoherent. Jimin shakes his head, clearly amused, before sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car.

You wait until Jimin’s car disappears down the street, the red taillights vanishing into the dark, before turning towards the entrance of your building.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you push the door open and step inside, your heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. The warmth of the lobby greets you, but it does little to soothe the ache that begins to creep back into your chest now that the night has quieted.

The dinner had been good, better than you’d expected, honestly. Laughter, celebration, and the lively chatter of your coworkers had served as a temporary distraction from the turmoil you’d been carrying. But now, as the stillness settles around you like a heavy blanket, the ache returns, sharper and more insistent.

Inside your apartment, you drop your bag onto the coffee table and sink into the couch with a heavy sigh. Your head falls back against the cushion, and for a moment, you just sit there, staring at the ceiling as a familiar longing washes over you.

It’s always like this, this quiet yearning that refuses to fade. Your mind drifts back to Jungkook.

You close your eyes, the temptation to grab your phone almost overpowering. The urge to hear his voice, to say something... anything... is strong, but the little voice in the back of your head reminds you of the silence that has stretched between you.

He could’ve reached out too... but he hasn’t.

Your fingers hover over your phone for a moment before you pull your hand back with a frustrated sigh. If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You tell yourself that over and over again, as if repeating it enough times might make it easier to accept.

But it doesn’t.

Jungkook’s breathing is erratic as he stumbles into his apartment, the door slamming shut behind him. His chest heaves with the weight of emotions he can no longer contain. His car keys slip from his hand, clattering onto the floor, but he barely notices.

He collapses onto the couch, his body folding forward as his elbows dig into his knees, his face buried in his hands. The image of you, standing there with someone else... smiling and radiant, plays on a loop in his mind. It burns, sears, and tears him apart from the inside out.

Tears spill freely now, hot and unchecked, staining his hands as he sobs quietly. He feels weak, utterly powerless. Crying feels like the only release, though it does nothing to dull the ache in his heart.

“Kook?” Namjoon’s raspy voice cuts through the stillness, startling Jungkook. He jerks his head up, quickly wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, though it does little to hide his red, puffy eyes.

Namjoon shuffles closer, stepping away from his room as he closes the door behind him, his hair disheveled, eyes half-lidded with sleep as he rubs at them. “What are you doing?” he mumbles, but his voice falters when he gets a clearer look at Jungkook’s face.

“Are you… Are you crying?” Namjoon asks, his tone sharper now, laced with concern. He closes the distance between them, crouching down slightly to meet Jungkook’s gaze.

Jungkook looks away, sniffing, his jaw tightening. “It’s nothing.” he mutters, his voice hoarse and raw from the effort of holding everything in.

Namjoon doesn’t buy it for a second. He sinks onto the couch beside Jungkook, his expression softening as he places a steady hand on his shoulder. “Kook, talk to me.” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “You’ve been like this for days now, and I’m starting to get worried. Tell me… tell me what’s wrong?”

Jungkook’s lips tremble as he looks away, the weight of everything he’s been carrying pressing heavily on his chest. He doesn’t know how to put it all into words, but something inside him cracks at Namjoon’s unwavering concern.

It’s about time. Maybe sharing his sorrows with his best friend, someone who’s always been there for him, might help.

He takes a shaky breath and begins, starting from the beginning. He tells Namjoon everything.

He tells him how it all started, the arrangement you and Jungkook had made, how it seemed harmless at first but quickly grew into something far more complicated.

He recounts the night you accompanied him to dinner with his father, how you had been his pillar of strength during what was supposed to be an unbearable ordeal. He talks about the warmth of your presence, the way you’d comforted him without judgment, and how, in that fleeting moment of solace, he felt something shift within himself.

He tells Namjoon about the exact moment he realized he was utterly in love with you... how the feeling hit him like a wave, overwhelming and inescapable, leaving him unsteady and drowning in emotions he wasn’t ready to face. He describes the fears that followed, the insecurities that gnawed at him relentlessly.

The fear of not being enough, the fear that you’d eventually see through the cracks in his facade, notice his flaws, and realize he could never meet the expectations you deserved. He was terrified that the love he so desperately wanted to hold onto would slip through his fingers the moment you saw him for who he truly was.

And then, he tells Namjoon about how he let those fears consume him, how he allowed his doubts and self-sabotage to get in the way. He recounts the argument, the walls he built between you both, and the crushing moment when he pushed you away, convinced it was for the best.

As the words spill out, Jungkook’s voice wavers, thick with regret and anguish. His hands tremble as he clenches them into fists on his lap. “And, hyung…” he finally whispers, his tone hoarse. “I heard Heejin talking about that guy Jimin.”

He pauses, his breath hitching as the memory of what he saw outside your apartment flashes in his mind. “So, like an idiot… I went to check. To see… if she was actually with someone else.”

Namjoon listens intently, his gaze unwavering as Jungkook’s voice breaks with emotion. Every word carries the weight of Jungkook’s pain, his regrets laid bare before his best friend. It’s raw, unfiltered, and messy, but it’s the truth... a truth Jungkook has been running from for far too long.

When Jungkook finally stops, his chest heaving as he struggles to compose himself, Namjoon takes a deep breath. He doesn’t speak immediately, giving Jungkook the space to process what he’s just confessed.

“Kook…” Namjoon finally starts, his voice soft but steady, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. He shifts slightly on the couch, angling himself to face Jungkook, whose tear-streaked face glistens under the dim light of the living room. “Love can be scary. Trust me, I know that.”

There’s a pause as Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “You know how long it took me to even ask Heejin out? Months, Kook. Months. And that’s after she gave me about fifty signs that she liked me. I mean, how many times can a girl ‘accidentally’ bump into you at the coffee machine before it stops being an accident?” He chuckles softly, hoping to lighten the heaviness in the room.

Jungkook’s lips twitch, just barely, but the sadness in his eyes doesn’t waver. Namjoon notices and his smile fades, replaced by something more serious, more empathetic.

“But honestly...” Namjoon continues. “I was terrified. Terrified of screwing it up, of not being enough for her. Of loving her too much and losing her. It’s a scary thing, Kook, letting someone hold your heart like that. It’s like giving them the power to break you into pieces and hoping they won’t.”

Jungkook’s head dips slightly, his fingers curling tighter into the fabric of his hoodie. Namjoon’s voice softens, but it doesn’t lose its intensity.

“But you know what’s worse than that fear? The idea of living without her. Of not even trying. Of sitting there years later, wondering what could’ve been if I’d just gotten over myself.” Namjoon exhales deeply, his eyes searching Jungkook’s.

“You think I don’t see what’s going on?” Namjoon says, leaning forward. “You’re miserable because you’re trying to protect yourself from the pain of loving her. But here’s the thing, buddy... running away from love doesn’t save you from the pain. It just gives you a different kind of hurt. One that eats you slowly, piece by piece.”

Jungkook swallows hard, his chest heaving slightly with unsteady breaths. Namjoon reaches out, gripping his shoulder a little tighter.

“Look, you’re scared. That’s normal. Love isn’t safe, it’s not easy, and it sure as hell isn’t predictable. But if you let fear decide for you, you’re giving up on the one thing your heart truly wants. And that’s the craziest part, Kook... you’re already hurting. Whether you fight for her or you run away, there’s going to be pain. But at least if you fight, you’re living. You’re giving yourself a chance to have something real, something that might just make every scar worth it.”

Namjoon pauses, glancing down briefly before looking back at Jungkook with a small, self-deprecating smile. “You know what Heejin always says to me when I get in my own head? She says, ‘Joon, you think too much. Sometimes you just have to let yourself feel.’ And she’s right. As much as it kills me to admit it... don’t tell her I said that, by the way... she’s right. Overthinking love doesn’t work, Kook. It’s not a math problem you can solve. It’s messy, and scary, and unpredictable, but that’s what makes it worth it.”

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath, the weight of Namjoon’s words pressing against his chest. “You love her, right?” Namjoon asks gently, though the answer is already written all over Jungkook’s face. Jungkook nods almost imperceptibly. “More than anything.” he murmurs.

Namjoon smiles softly. “Then stop letting fear run the show, Kook. Because if you don’t go after her, if you let her slip away because you’re scared, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. Trust me, I’ve seen what regret looks like, and it’s uglier than anything love could throw at you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but after a moment, his expression falters, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. He finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… isn’t it too late now? What about... Jimin? She looked so… happy with him.”

Namjoon tilts his head, considering Jungkook’s words. He lets out a sigh, his hand squeezing Jungkook’s shoulder. “Look, maybe it is too late. Maybe she’s moved on. Maybe she’s decided to start something new with this guy Jimin, and you’re no longer in the picture. That’s the risk, Kook. You can’t control that.” He pauses, his gaze steady.

“But maybe... it’s not too late. Maybe she’s been waiting, hoping you’d stop being a stubborn idiot and tell her how you feel.” Jungkook flinches slightly, but Namjoon’s tone softens.

“The point is... you won’t know unless you try. And yeah, it might hurt if she’s already moved on, but wouldn’t it hurt more to sit here and wonder ‘what if’ for the rest of your life? If you’re willing to risk it all, to lay it out there and be honest, then you owe it to yourself... and to her... to let her know.”

Namjoon leans back, offering a small, bittersweet smile. “The worst that can happen is she says no, Kook. But at least then you’ll know. At least you’ll have tried. And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens as he absorbs Namjoon’s words, his mind swirling with emotion. For the first time, there’s a spark of clarity in the haze of his pain, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he still has a chance to fight for the one thing his heart truly wants.

You step out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped securely around you, the steam curling out into the hallway behind you. It’s a quiet Sunday evening, and nothing feels more comforting than the long, hot shower you just took, a rare reprieve from the storm of emotions that have consumed you lately.

You make your way to the closet, ready to slip into something comfortable. As you dig through the neatly folded clothes, your fingers brush against a familiar fabric. You pull it out, and it unfurls into a soft, worn grey tshirt.

For a moment, you’re frozen, staring at the piece of clothing in your hands as you realize who it belongs to. You’d almost forgotten it was still here, tucked away in the corner of your closet, left behind during one of those countless nights he used to sneak in.

Your chest tightens, and before you even realize it, the urge to wear it overwhelms you. You miss Jungkook. You miss him so much it feels like a physical ache, and this tshirt... the only tangible piece of him you have left, feels like a lifeline.

It makes you feel ridiculous, like some lovesick fool who can’t let go. But there’s no one here to judge you. Heejin’s out for the evening, and even if she were home, she probably wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t know who the tshirt belonged to.

So, with a shaky exhale, you slip it on. The fabric is soft against your skin, hanging loosely over you. It reaches the middle of your thighs, the sleeves brushing just below your elbows. You turn to the mirror, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips as you take in your reflection.

The faint scent of him still lingers, subtle but unmistakable, wrapping around you like a ghost of a memory. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, your eyes sting but you shake your head quickly, not wanting to fall apart. Not now. Not when you’ve been doing your best to hold it together.

You dry your hair with quiet determination, slipping into the familiar rhythm of distraction. Once you’re done, you head to the living room and plop down onto the couch, grabbing the remote to start the next episode of a Kdrama you’ve been meaning to finish.

Halfway through the episode, you hear a knock at the door. You don’t budge from your spot on the couch, sinking further into the cushions, cocooned in the warmth of Jungkook's tshirt. You assume it’s Heejin, back earlier than expected.

"The door's open !!" you call out lazily, not sparing a glance away from the scene playing out on your screen. You hear the door creak open and footsteps shuffle inside.

You’re too engrossed in the emotional confession happening on the show to even acknowledge it. The only sounds are the dramatic dialogues and the soft hum of the soundtrack filling the room.

But then, a voice... deep, familiar, and entirely unexpected, cuts through the ambiance. "Looks like your Kdrama boy finally got his girl."

Your heart stutters, your body freezing as you process the words. You whip your head around, your eyes widening as they land on Jungkook, standing in the doorway of your apartment.

He’s dressed in a simple black hoodie and jeans, his dark hair slightly disheveled as if he’s just run his hand through it one too many times. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, it’s like time stretches thin, the weight of everything hanging in the air.

There’s a nervousness in his eyes, but underneath it lies something softer, something tender. But then his gaze falters, dropping to the tshirt you’re wearing.

The realization flickers across his face, subtle but unmistakable. His lips part slightly as though he’s about to say something, but the words seem to escape him. Instead, he stares, caught off guard, his emotions shifting between surprise and something deeper.

"Jungkook?" you manage to breathe out, your voice a mix of surprise and disbelief. Your fingers instinctively clutch at the hem of the shirt, a self-conscious move as you become suddenly hyper-aware of the way you must look right now... damp hair, bare legs, and his old tshirt hanging loose around you.

For a fleeting second, the corner of his lips twitches upward, a small, almost imperceptible movement. There’s something in his expression now, a quiet confirmation, a spark of hope.

It dawns on him that maybe… just maybe, it’s not too late. Because if you were truly moving on, truly with someone else, would you still be wearing his tshirt?

"That looks good on you." he says softly, his voice breaking the silence as he gestures towards the tshirt. His tone is gentle, almost hesitant, but there’s a trace of warmth, like he’s clinging to the sliver of hope that seeing you like this has given him.

Your breath falters at his words and a wave of emotions... confusion, anger, longing surges through you, threatening to drown you in its tide. You open your mouth, but the words lodge in your throat, refusing to surface.

"What are you doing here?" you finally manage, your voice trembling despite the sharp edge you try to lace it with. Rising from the couch, you feel every muscle in your body tense, preparing to shield yourself from whatever blow his presence might deliver.

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes hold a depth you’re too afraid to dive into, a mixture of hesitation and something rawer... something that almost makes you falter. "Y/n... I... I wanted to talk to you." he says, his voice soft but heavy, as though each word is weighted with regret. He steps closer cautiously, like he's crossing an invisible boundary.

Your breathing quickens, frustration clawing its way to the surface. You take a step back, shaking your head in an attempt to silence the chaos inside you. "No. You’ve already said enough." you snap, the bitterness in your tone barely masking the hurt buried beneath.

You turn on your heel, moving away from the living room, the need to distance yourself from him overwhelming. The anger festers as memories of the past few weeks resurface... how he shut you out without any explanation, how he let silence carve deep wounds, how he just ended things.

How dare he come back now, uninvited, unannounced as if he had the right to disrupt the fragile balance you’ve been trying so hard to maintain?

Your hands unconsciously brush against the hem of his shirt, the reminder of him only deepening the sting. The audacity of him seeing you like this... wearing something that ties you to a past you’re trying to forget, makes you want to disappear.

"Y/n... no... wait." Jungkook calls out, his voice laced with urgency and a hint of desperation that makes you pause for a fraction of a second. But you don’t stop.

You refuse to let him see the cracks in the walls you’ve built since he left. You’re almost at the sanctuary of your room but before you can enter you feel his warm, firm grasp around your wrist.

"Please." he whispers, his voice low and trembling, as though he’s holding back the weight of an apology that might break him. His touch is hesitant, almost reverent, as though he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he holds on too tightly.

The warmth of his hand sends an involuntary shiver through you, rooting you to the spot. For a moment, the anger wavers, the raw ache of missing him cutting through the defenses you’ve worked so hard to build.

You stare at the door in front of you, your chest heaving with the effort to keep it together. His grip on your wrist isn’t forceful, but it’s enough to keep you from running, even as every part of you screams to do so.

"Let me explain." he murmurs, his voice trembling as if each word is being pulled from a place so fragile it might shatter under the weight of silence. "I know I messed up, Y/n. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, let alone another chance... but I need you to hear me out. Please."

The plea in his voice is almost unbearable, and you find yourself rooted in place, your heart caught between the pain he caused and the raw sincerity in his tone. With a heavy breath, you turn around, his hand still holding your wrist.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, he falters. You see it all... the regret, the turmoil, the silent battles he’s been fighting. He looks at you like he’s searching for something, some glimmer of hope in the sea of emotions between you.

"Y/n..." He starts, his voice breaking on your name. "I just… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for ignoring every text, every call... I’m sorry for shutting you out, for walking away when all I really wanted was to stay. I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. I’ve... hated myself every single day since."

He takes a shaky breath, and his hand loosens slightly around your wrist, though it doesn’t let go. His other hand rises to push his hair back, a gesture that speaks to his nervousness.

"When we first met, I don't know what hit me. You were... God, you were everything. The way you looked... the way you smiled... the way you laughed, the way you talked about the little things like they mattered more than the world itself... it was like nothing I’d ever known."

There’s a pause, his gaze never leaving yours. "You drove me crazy, you know? Crazy in the best way. And when we started this... whole arrangement, I thought I could handle it. I thought I could keep things casual because, honestly, I was just grateful to have any part of you I could. Holding you, kissing you, being close to you... it felt enough, or at least that's what I told myself."

His voice softens, trembling as he takes a small step closer. "But it wasn’t... not really. Every time we were together, it felt like I was losing a little more of myself to you. Like you were becoming my whole world without even trying. And it scared me. I’d never felt like that before... like someone could hold my heart in their hands without even realizing it."

Tears well in his eyes, but he doesn’t try to hide them. "I wanted more, Y/n. God, I wanted so much more... I started to realize... that I didn’t just want you in my bed.... I wanted you in my world. I wanted to be the one you called when you were happy, when you were sad, when you needed someone to... hold you."

His voice cracks, and the vulnerability in his tone makes your chest tighten. "But I was scared, Y/n. Scared of what it meant to want something so much. Scared that if I let myself fall completely, you’d see all the ways I’m not good enough for you. That you’d walk away the second you realized how flawed I am. And instead of being honest with you, I let my fear take over.... and... I pushed you away."

He steps even closer now, his hand still trembling against your skin. "I know I hurt you, and I can never take that back. But you need to know something, Y/n. You need to know that... that I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can even admit to myself."

The confession hangs in the air, and a tear finally spills down his cheek. "I was a coward. I let my fear ruin the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But if there’s even the smallest part of you... that still feels something for me, even after everything I’ve done, then I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make this right. To prove to you that you’re it for me. You’ve always been it."

His voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion. "I don’t want a life without you, Y/n. I don’t know how to have one. So please... please just tell me it’s not too late."

His words hang in the air, fragile and raw, and you feel them settle deep in your chest like an ache you didn’t realize you were carrying. The tears you didn’t even know you were holding back spill freely now, streaking your cheeks as his confession sinks in.

Your heart beats erratically, caught between the pain of the past and the undeniable truth of this moment.

He’s in love with you. He’s in love with you.

The realization hits you with such force that it takes your breath away. After all the heartbreak, all the sleepless nights spent wondering what went wrong, here he is, standing before you with his heart in his hands, offering it to you in the most vulnerable way imaginable.

You don’t trust your voice, don’t trust that you can string together the words to express the emotions surging inside you right now. So instead, you take a tentative step closer.

His eyes remain locked on yours, wide and shimmering with hope and fear all at once. You sniffle, wiping at your cheeks with a trembling hand before placing it gently on his chest. His heart races beneath your touch, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart beats too.

Slowly, carefully, you rise onto your toes, closing the remaining distance between you. His breath catches as you lean in, your gaze flickering to his lips before meeting his eyes one last time, a silent answer to the question in them.

And then, without hesitation, you press your lips to his.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, frozen in place as if he can’t quite believe this is real. The hesitation makes your heart falter, and you begin to pull away, searching his eyes for any sign of what he’s feeling.

He looks back at you, and the intensity in his gaze is almost overwhelming. It’s like he’s seeing his entire world come back into focus, a mixture of relief and yearning so deep it steals your breath. Before you can say anything, his grip on your wrist loosens, his hands moving to cup your face with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine.

He tugs you forward as he leans closer and then, he’s kissing you again. This time, it’s different... desperate, fervent, as if he’s pouring every ounce of regret, longing, and love into this one moment.

The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against yours, sending a bolt of electricity coursing through you. He takes a careful step forward, guiding you back until your spine meets the door with a soft thud. The sensation of being pinned between him and the door sends your pulse racing, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

You lift yourself slightly, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle as the kiss grows hungrier, more intense. A soft moan escapes your lips when his hands find your hips, his grip firm as he pulls you closer, leaving no space between you.

The way he touches you, the way he kisses you... it’s as if he’s trying to make up for every second he’s been away, for every moment he’s made you doubt how much he cares.

And in this moment, all the pain and confusion fades, replaced by the undeniable certainty that neither of you ever stopped wanting this... wanting each other.

His hands slide down to your bare thighs, and with one swift motion, he lifts you effortlessly, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist.

The action feels natural, like it’s something you’ve done countless times before, yet the intensity now is undeniable. Holding you securely, he deepens the kiss, and carefully reaches for the doorknob, twisting it.

He pushes the door to your room open with his foot, his focus never wavering from you. Each step he takes feels heavy with anticipation, and when his knees meet the edge of your bed, he pauses. He pulls back, his breathing ragged as he looks at you… your hooded eyes, your swollen lips. It’s a sight that leaves him breathless as always.

"I… I missed you." he confesses softly, his voice trembling with sincerity. "I missed you too." you whisper in return, your voice barely audible but carrying all the longing you’ve been holding in.

The words seem to undo him. Carefully, he lays you down on the bed, his gaze traveling over you, lingering on the his tshirt that’s ridden up your thighs. The soft lace of your underwear peeking through catches his eye, and it’s enough to send his mind reeling.

He exhales sharply, trying to steady himself, but the sight of you… so vulnerable yet so inviting, makes restraint feel impossible. His dick twitches and suddenly his jeans feel unbearably tight, a physical ache that mirrors the emotional pull you have on him.

With a soft groan, he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. They’re soft and inviting, but you welcome the intrusion of his tongue eagerly, arching your neck to deepen the kiss.

He slides one hand down your thigh, his fingers tracing the hem of your underwear before gripping the waistband firmly. You gasp into the kiss as he tugs them down your legs, your hips bucking off the mattress, seeking more contact. He chuckles into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip playfully before breaking away.

The absence of his mouth is quickly replaced with his hands, which slide up your thighs to help you remove his tshirt that you’re wearing. He throws it on the floor, his gaze drawn back to you.

He hovers over you, a hungry growl escaping him as he sees you bare. Your breasts are on full display, nipples perked and sensitive. He licks his lips, aching to taste them. His head dips forward, a moan escaping him as his tongue meets your skin.

"Fuck." he groans against your skin, your nipple flicking against the tip of his tongue. "Kook…" you whisper breathlessly, your head falling back against the mattress.

He grins against your breast as he begins to suckle, teasing you with his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, and you can’t help but pull at him as your body starts to tremble with pleasure.

His hands slide down your sides, one finding the curve of your hip as he urges you to spread your legs wider. He takes advantage of your compliance, moving further down the bed so that he’s situated right between your thighs.

His breath tickles your core as he presses soft kisses up the inside of your thigh. You shiver at the sensation, your body arching off the bed in anticipation. He can feel the heat from between your legs, radiating up towards him, and he can’t help the way he growls as he pulls your thighs wider, settling his face between them.

You mewl in delight as he breathes a stream of warm air across your cunt, your fingers threading into his hair again. He nuzzles into you, his tongue parting your slit, tasting the sweetness of your arousal. A moan escapes you, your hips rocking up into his mouth.

His tongue works you over slowly, lapping at your clit in lazy circles. He alternates the pressure between light and hard, watching as you writhe on the bed. Your moans echo through the room, punctuated only by the soft sounds of your body wetting for him.

He sucks one of your lips into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it playfully as his hands slide up to toy with your breasts. "Kook, fuck." you gasp, your legs trembling around his head.

He groans, his tongue finding the entrance of your core and slipping inside. You cry out as he fucks you with his tongue, his moans vibrating against your inner walls. He works you over like this, licking you until your body is aching for him to fuck you.

When he finally pulls back from you, he’s breathless and his face is covered in your arousal. He grins at you as he stands from the bed, taking off his hoodie and unbuttoning his jeans before pushing them down his hips.

His erection springs free from his boxers, thick and hard as it juts out between his legs. The sight of it makes you squirm, your thighs clenching with anticipation. He chuckles as he runs a hand up his length, stroking himself slowly.

"Kook..." you whisper, your voice trembling just slightly, betraying the simmering heat inside you.

His gaze snaps to yours instantly, dark, unreadable, yet brimming with an intensity that pulls you in. "Yes, baby?" he murmurs, his voice low, almost reverent, as his hand continues its slow movement along his length.

You swallow, your breath catching as you hold his gaze, feeling the weight of his attention settle over you like a physical touch. "Let me ride you." you say, your voice steady, though beneath the words, the fire within you crackles.

His movements falter for just a fraction of a second, his lips parting, as though the words are on the tip of his tongue, but nothing comes out.

Instead, his eyes darken, his gaze locking onto yours with a hunger that makes your pulse race. The corner of his mouth lifts, a faint smirk playing on his lips, a mix of adoration and desire that only intensifies the heat between you.

"Are you sure, baby?" His voice is softer now. You nod, your breath shallow, and as if drawn by an invisible force, you prop yourself up on your elbows and shift closer to him. Your hands move instinctively, tracing the taut lines of his chest and shoulders.

You feel his breath hitch under your touch, and in that moment, his restraint begins to unravel, visible in the way his muscles tighten and relax beneath your fingertips.

"Then come here." he says, his voice dropping lower, thickened by the raw emotion threatening to swallow him whole.

He slides onto the bed, his body sinking into the softness, and his hands fall to your hips. With a tenderness that contradicts the hunger in his eyes, he guides you above him. His touch is firm, yet reverent, like you’re something fragile, something precious he can’t bear to mishandle.

As you straddle him, the tension between you coils tighter, thick and suffocating in the best possible way. The air hums with anticipation, each breath you take only drawing you closer to the inevitable. Your hands rest on his chest, steadying yourself as you position yourself over him.

The way he looks at you... like you’re the center of his universe, sends a shiver down your spine. It ignites something deep inside you, a burning desire that only he can satisfy, something you never want to extinguish.

Without a word, you lift your hips and, with a single fluid motion, take him inside you. The gasp that escapes both of you is perfectly synchronized, and for a brief moment, time seems to stand still.

Your eyes lock, a quiet understanding passing between you as you stay there, savoring the overwhelming sensation of him filling you up completely, allowing yourself to fully absorb the way he stretches you out.

And the minute you begin to move, his hands slide around to your ass, holding on tight as you gradually increase your pace, bouncing on him.

His head tips back, the tendons in his neck standing out like he’s fighting a battle for control. "Fuck... baby... fuck…" he groans, his fingers flexing into the soft flesh of your ass, gripping you so hard you're sure he'll leave bruises later.

But honestly, you don’t mind. For all you care, he can mark you wherever he wants from now on.

His grip only heightens the pleasure building inside you. Every thrust, every movement of your body, feels so good, it's almost too much to bear. The moans escaping you grow louder, your breathing turning into ragged pants as you climb closer and closer to your peak.

He’s watching you intently, his eyes searing, his jaw clenched tightly as he struggles to contain himself. It's like he can't get enough of the sight of you riding him, your body moving up and down on him.

You look like a vision to him... a goddess brought to life. The way your skin glistens with a faint sheen, catching the soft glow of light. The elegant curve of your neck as it arches, the delicate shimmer along your collarbones, and the way your body moves in perfect harmony with his... the way your bodies become one every passing second, each moment feels like worship, leaving him utterly spellbound.

Your fingers trace a lazy path down your cheek, lingering on the sensitive skin of your neck. A shiver runs through you as they descend further, finding their way to your breast.

You gently squeeze the flesh and watch him closely, noticing the way his gaze darkens as you continue to move up and down, your body impaling itself on him, taking him in deep. He watches, captivated, as you play with your nipple and the way your other breast bounces, a barely audible groan escaping his lips.

His hand reaches out, his fingers tracing the outline of your breast before closing around it. The pressure is firm but gentle, a spark igniting deep within you. He squeezes, a low growl rumbling in his chest, and you arch against him, a silent plea for more.

"Keep going, baby." his voice is a rasp, like he's being torn apart from the inside, but it’s you who’s falling apart. Your body tightens, your inner muscles clenching around him and soon you feel your climax approaching.

You’re overcome by the need to release, to let go, and as you do, he feels your pace faltering and takes the opportunity to flip you over. Your legs wrap around him as he leans forward, his elbows braced on either side of your head.

"Fuck... look at you." he mutters, breathing you in. He kisses down the column of your neck, his lips and tongue trailing over you before he finds your mouth.

He devours you, the kiss deep and all-consuming while his hips mercilessly snap into you, each thrust hitting deeper and deeper as he fucks you through your orgasm, trying to reach his own high. "I fucking love you... fuck." he says, his pace growing more and more animalistic.

He moves in and out of you with an intensity that makes it feel like he’s going to split you in half. Each thrust hits deeper and deeper, the sound of his skin slapping against yours, echoing in the room.

You can’t even respond, your body feeling like a shell of itself. Every inch of you is throbbing for him, your orgasm building up inside of you again until it’s almost unbearable. You’re aching to release again, your body strung so tight that it feels like you’re going to explode.

“Ah, fuck…” you moan, your hips rolling up into his. His hand drops down to your waist, his palm rubbing against the sensitive skin of your stomach before he slips down further.

He circles your clit with his fingers, teasing you with feather-light touches that make you squirm. "I... I love you, Kook." you moan, your voice trembling, raw and filled with emotion, as your thighs fall open in surrender. The words hang in the air, powerful and unguarded, hitting him like a tidal wave.

For a moment, Jungkook falters, his rhythm slowing as your sudden confession sinks in. It’s the first time he’s hearing it, and it undoes him completely. His dark eyes meet yours, wide with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

"Say it again." he breathes, his voice cracking slightly, his movements still but his hands firm on your hips. "Please... say it again, baby."

"I love you." you repeat softly, the words spilling out as naturally as a breath, your heart in your throat. He lets out a shaky exhale, his grip tightening as if grounding himself in the moment. "God, Y/n..." he whispers, his forehead falling to rest against yours. "I love you too... fuck... I love you so much."

His lips capture yours in a kiss again but this time it’s desperate yet tender, pouring every unspoken feeling into you as he resumes his pace, each thrust a physical manifestation of the emotions neither of you can fully articulate as his thumb brushes your clit before pressing down and rubbing it in fast circles. The connection between you feels infinite, as if nothing in the world exists outside of this moment.

Your body tenses up immediately, your muscles locking tight as you clench around him. He doesn’t even pause, his hips rolling into yours as you orgasm around him. He buries his face in your neck, groaning into your skin as he finally releases right into you, filling you up until it spills out around him.

“Oh god.” he moans, his hips finally slowing. He’s still pulsing inside of you, his breathing harsh as he kisses down your neck. Your cunt still contracts around him, his cock twitching with the aftershocks of his own release. He holds himself there, his cum dripping from where he’s still lodged inside of you.

His body collapses gently onto yours, both of you tangled in each other, your breaths uneven as you try to steady yourselves. Your arms instinctively wrap around his sweaty shoulders, pulling him closer as you stare up at the ceiling, your chest still heaving, your body still trembling in the aftermath.

You feel his lips press softly against your shoulder, a tender, lingering kiss meant to ground you both. He stays there for a few moments, his touch soothing, his presence anchoring.

"I love you." he murmurs, his voice soft yet resolute, as though he needs you to hear it again, needs you to know just how much he means it.

This time, he slowly lifts himself, propping up on his elbows to look down at you. His dark, expressive eyes meet yours, filled with something deeper than words could ever capture.

"I love you too." you reply, your voice equally soft, a smile spreading across your face as the weight of everything you've been through to reach this moment hits you all at once.

The corners of his lips tug upward, mirroring your smile, and before you know it, a quiet laugh escapes, your giggles mingling with his. It’s light, pure, and unrestrained, despite the insane sex you just had.

A moment later, he rests his forehead against yours, his grin playful. "So…" he begins. "Which Kdrama is your post-orgasm clarity telling you to watch today?"

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

my masterlist <3

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rpwprpwprpwprw · 2 days ago

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I LOVE THEM STAY TOGETHER FOREVER OK

🩷❤️🧡💛💚💜💙🩵❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹💗💓💞💕❣️💟💝💘

BTS Halloween party – king and queen

Non-idol!Namjoon x fem!reader

Summary: At the party, Namjoon makes you feel hot. He walks you home, thinking you are unwell. Will you take the chance and finally jump him?

Themes/warnings: smut with a bit of plot at the beginning, alcohol, unprotected sex, nipple play, fingering, handjob, friends to lovers

Wordcount: ca. 1.9k

Disclaimer: 18+, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

I do not own BTS. They merely inspire me. None of this is related to their persons in real life.

Since you helped put together the party’s snacks, you’ve been there for a while when the first guests start arriving.

Taehyung, tonight’s host, lets in and greets the first few himself. Until he gets so busy hosting and chatting, that someone else has to take over.

You watch, leaning in against the kitchen doorframe. Yoongi mixed you your favorite mocktail earlier already. He’s a good friend.

You’re about to return to the kitchen and rearrange the decorations when you spot Namjoon. He sticks out on a daily basis. But today, with a golden crown atop his dark hair and dressed as a king, your knees feel weak.

Quickly, you walk into the kitchen and sit down on one of the chairs. This should not be happening. You feel a bit too warm and have to brush a bead of sweat away from your chest. You should not be lusting after one of your oldest friends. Except, that it is much more than lust.

You press your forehead against the cool glass of your drink. Thank goodness Yoongi was generous with the ice cubes, as usual.

“Hey, y/n.”

You almost drop your glass.

“Hi, Namjoon.”

You lower the glass and look at him. Instead of hovering over the snacks, which would be the normal things for him to do, he has stopped in front of you.

“Are you okay? You look a bit hot.”

“Oh, it’s just the dress. I’ve been working in the kitchen for a while.”

“You did the snack bar again?” He sounds excited like a kid on Christmas.

“Yes.”

His smile vanishes again as his eyes return to your red cheeks.

“Maybe a multi-layered princess dress was not the best option for a party inside.”

Namjoon looks you up and down. His eyes follow another bead of sweat that runs down your chest and disappears between your boobs. As he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs.

You can’t meet his eyes. No way. This will end horribly if you do.

You put aside your drink and get up. Except that you have miscalculated how close he is. Your chest touches his. You open your mouth and close it again, feeling stupid.

You have to meet his eyes. His pupils are nearly double their normal size. His lips are slightly parted. Now you feel hot and cold at the same time.

You barely register that his hands have gone to your sides, making sure you stay upright in case you don’t feel well.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Did you drive or walk here?”

“My sister dropped me off. She has the car tonight.”

“I’ll walk you home. I think you might be coming down with the flu or something.”

The Namjoon flu, if anything. You find yourself nodding, even though you shouldn’t. You’re perfectly healthy. The reason for your near fever is standing right in front of you.

“Then, let’s go.”

Five minutes later you’re out on the sidewalk, heading towards your apartment complex.

“If you feel dizzy, just hold onto me.”

“Alright.”

Except that now, out in the cool October air, you feel fine. Certain parts of you might still feel a bit warm and tingly when you look at king Namjoon, but your mind is clearer again.

“How is your sister doing?”

“Very well. She got promoted recently and now gets to travel around a lot more. That’s what she’s doing right now. She’s at a conference all weekend.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“For her it is.”

“So you have the apartment to yourself all weekend? How does that feel?”

“Good and bad. I like her presence, mostly. But sometimes, this kind of separation is very, very welcome.”

“I hear you. I have a sister too, after all.”

You casually chat about family for the remaining ten minutes until you reach the apartment building.

Namjoon accompanies you to your apartment, up on the third floor. You unlock and open the door. The smell of the vanilla cookies you baked in the afternoon encases both of you.

“You baked?”

“Yes. I usually do so on the weekend.”

You know that you’re playing with fire, but you proceed anyways. You take Namjoon’s hand and pull him inside the apartment with you.

“Have a cookie. Or two. That’s the least I can do for you walking me back here.”

“You know that was not meant to be transactional.”

“I do. See it as a well-deserved reward, then.”

Namjoon closes the door behind himself.

“Okay. I really, really like your cookies.”

You let go of Namjoon and slide out of your shoes. He does the same, takes off his crown and then follows you into the kitchen. You put the container full of cookies on the kitchen table and gesture him towards it.

Namjoon goes through a cookie before even sitting down.

In the meantime, you take your hair down and undo the complicated braids you’d put into it earlier. Your scalp tingles from how good it feels.

“Could you help me open the dress? I’d like to change.”

“Of course.”

Namjoon jumps up and brushes crumbs off his hands. He’s probably had half a dozen cookies by now and you’re happy he’s enjoying them so much.

Gently, Namjoon brushes aside your hair.

“How do I open this?”

“It’s a lace up corset. Open the little bow and then slowly loosen the corset all the way.”

He does just that, this fingers surprisingly quick and nimble.

“Does it hurt, being in a corset?”

“No. I mean, if one made it too tight, it might. But when it’s done the right way, it’s fine.”

“Your hair smells like vanilla too.”

“That happens when I’m baking.”

Namjoon inhales deeply at your neck. It tickles and you giggle.

“I think I can’t open it further without it sliding off you.”

You turn your head, now serious again. He’s looking at your lips.

“Please open it a little further. I can’t get out completely like this.”

“Y/n…”

“Please?”

Namjoon sighs. You turn back around. His lips land softly on your neck as his fingers keep widening the corset strings.

His lips leave your neck again.

“Please, don’t stop.”

You can feel his hesitation. You catch his hands and guide them to your front, running them up and down your torso and chest. His breathing against your ear is much faster now, a little ragged. Even through the layers of clothing you can feel him react.

The corset is loose enough that Namjoon can slide his hand into it and run his thumb over your nipple. You arch into him. He covers your neck with sloppy kisses.

You shimmy out of the dress and stand there in only your panties.

Namjoon runs one hand down your stomach, exploring your body.

“Your skin feels like peaches. So soft.”

Which reminds you of all the summers you have watched him devour peaches, their juice dripping down his chin.

“More”, you breathe.

His hand disappears into your panties. It only takes him a moment to find your clit. He taps it in a way that makes you legs turn into jelly.

You cling onto his arm for support, gasping as the heat grows in your lower belly.

“If you want anything ever, you tell me.”

“Keep going. Just like that.”

So he does. And keeps on doing so until the release of an orgasm makes you go limp. Namjoon holds you upright.

“Y/n?”

“Mh?”

“I have been in love with you for a long time. Is there a chance you reciprocate these feelings?”

“Same. My sister keeps threatening me that if I don’t tell you, she’ll tell you herself.”

“So, does that mean… We could date?”

“Yeah. I’m free tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night it is.”

“But, Namjoon.”

You slowly turn, stepping out of your dress. Now you are face to face with him. Well, almost, since he is taller than you.

“I want you inside of me tonight. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

To underline your intentions, you reach for the bulge in his slacks. His dick feels huge through the fabric. You know that even in your already relaxed state it will take some adjusting.

Namjoon’s lips part in a sigh as you run your hand up and down his length. He looks beautiful like that. You lean forward and kiss him. He kisses you back gently, but it’s clear that his focus is elsewhere.

You draw back.

“Two options. Either you undress yourself and I keep doing that or I undress you and stop.”

“Number one.”

Namjoon tosses off his coat, unbuttons his shirt and throws it onto the growing heap. You have to stop for a moment so he can open his pants and step out of them, but when he comes back in for a kiss, you dip your hand into his underwear and rub over the smooth skin. He moans into the kiss. The sounds he makes turn you on even more.

You walk him backwards until his ass hits the kitchen table. Namjoon breaks the kiss this time.

“Here?”

“Yes, and right now. We can spend the rest of the night in bed.”

You bend yourself over the kitchen table, glad for once that it is so big and sturdy, and stick your butt up in the air.

“Please, Namjoon. I feel so empty.”

“Anything, honey. Anything for you.”

You feel his girthy head press against your entrance. He can only slide halfway in, because you are a little tight.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just maybe not relaxed enough to take all of you. You’re big.”

“We’ll take our time.”

His hand moves to your clit and he draws tiny circles on it. It takes a bit, but he can finally slide in smoothly as you squirm, on the edge of another orgasm.

“Namjoon. Please.”

You don’t know what exactly you are begging for, but he keeps playing with your clit, pushing in and out slowly until you arch your back, squeezing him so much that he has to stop moving.

Once you come down from your high, you slump onto the table.

“Mh, Namjoon. Please, start moving again. I want to feel you in me without my brain being on standby.”

Namjoon chuckles, resuming the slow, steady thrusts.

You enjoy this position. He hits all the right spots, making your body feel warm and tight with pleasure.

Quite soon, Namjoon’s thrusts become more erratic, sloppier. He folds over you, his chest against your back, mumbling nonsense until his hips still.

After a few shaky breaths, his heartbeat, which you can feel against your back, slowly returns to normal. And so does his brain.

He kisses your cheek before slowly pulling out of you. You can feel his cum trickle down the inside of your thighs. With him gone, your back feels a bit chilly.

“Were you serious when you said all night?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think we should shower next. Or perhaps cuddle, test out your bed and then shower?”

“I like option two.”

You straighten up and turn around to him. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is a mess, and he has never looked more beautiful to you.

You hug him tightly. Namjoon hugs you back without hesitation, his strength and warmth enveloping you.

“I really, really, really like you, Namjoon.”

“I really, really, really like you too, y/n.”

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work. Doing so will make you legally liable for stealing intellectual property.

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rpwprpwprpwprw · 2 days ago

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is this the man we are talking about?

@focusonkayjay you have no idea about what you did to me!!!!!!!!!!!!! i was reading and giggling so hard blushing and everything!!!! I had to stop reading several times to breathe and start reading again aaaaaaa

Oh my, he's so in love with her and he’s such a loser and so head over heels without any shame, I can't take it 😭 I want him as a boyfriend, please God give me Spiderkook, I'm begging you

This almost made my heart explode with happiness, seriously! I have to say I love you!!!

jk all sad and miserable knowing that he missed meeting the love of his life because he had to save a family from a fire 🫤 damn kkkkkkk

I CANT!!! LITERALLY CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER I LOVE YOU marry me please

webbed heartstrings | twoshot (1/2)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: spiderman/ campus heartthrob! jungkook, college student! reader, friends (but not exactly) to lovers, i think they're in a situationship, spiderman au, spiderkook au, angst, fluff

Word Count: 11.4k+

Chapter Warnings: pining, denial of feelings, mentions of robbery, mentions of fire, creepy men, reader gets chased in an alley, there's a fight scene

A/N: okay, i know i lied. i said this was going to be a oneshot, but i somehow convinced myself to turn it into a twoshot. it was just getting way too long, and honestly, based on past experience, my latest oneshot with a higher word count didn’t perform that well. so, here’s hoping this story makes for a more enjoyable read and gives you something to look forward to. also, to whomever it may concern, i’m not really a marvel fan, but i am an andrew garfield fan. so, when i was watching "the amazing spiderman 2" a few days ago, i couldn’t stop picturing jungkook as spiderman. i genuinely think that’s one of the best agendas our fandom has ever come up with lmao. anyways, this story has very little to do with spiderman’s usual heroics or the intricacies of the marvel world. it’s more about imagining jungkook as spiderman and all the emotions and visuals that come with it, if that makes sense hehehhe.

THE PICTURE I USED FOR MY COVER IS NOT MINE !! CREDIT GOES TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNER AND EDITOR !!

part (1/2)

“Yoooo, Tae! Guess who’s on the news again!” Jimin’s voice calls out from the living room as Taehyung steps out of the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, still drying his hands. His gaze instinctively shifts to the television where the news is going on.

“Masked Vigilante Foils Bank Robbery, Outpaces Authorities Yet Again!” the headline blazes in big bold letters at the bottom of the screen.

The low quality footage right above the headline is shaky, clearly recorded by a bystander’s phone. Amid the chaos, a red-and-blue masked figure moves with effortless agility, a blur of motion against the grainy backdrop.

He swings from lampposts and somersaults over obstacles, his web-like strands ensnaring weapons and disarming the robbers with precision that feels almost cinematic. The anchor’s voice overlays the footage, tinged with awe.

“This mysterious figure, operating outside the bounds of law enforcement, has once again saved the city. Witnesses say he intervened at the last moment, preventing a potentially catastrophic bank robbery. Who is he? And what drives this masked vigilante to risk his life, time and again for a city that doesn’t even know his name?”

Taehyung leans in, his brow knitting together as he studies the screen. He doesn’t need to guess who it is, he already knows who this "masked vigilante" is.

The fluid acrobatics, the flawless precision, and, above all, the iconic design of that red-and-blue suit leave no room for doubt. “Holy shit.” he mutters under his breath, eyes still glued to the screen. “Wasn’t he supposed to meet Y/n?”

Jimin chuckles from the couch, his posture relaxed as if this is just another Tuesday. “Yeah. But you know him, he probably saw the commotion on the way and couldn’t help himself.”

Taehyung’s gaze remains fixed on the television as the news anchor's voice fills the room again.

“Dubbed ‘The Amazing Spiderman’ by fans online, this masked hero has become an enigma. While officials remain silent, the public praises his ability to achieve what even trained authorities cannot. Love him or hate him, one thing is certain— Spiderman always saves the day.”

Just as Taehyung is about to say something, a faint yet distinct thud echoes against the window right behind the couch where Jimin's seated. Both of them snap their heads towards the sound and... there he is.

Perched on the narrow windowsill is the masked vigilante himself—The Amazing Spiderman a.k.a Jeon Jungkook.

The red-and-blue suit clings to his body, glistening with sweat from exertion. His chest heaves, each breath labored, as he presses his forehead against the window glass.

His mask is in his hand, revealing his sweaty disheveled hair and a face that speaks of exhaustion mixed with determination. With a weak knock of his head against the glass, he signals his roommates to let him in.

Taehyung gasps at the sight and instantly strides towards the window, sliding it open. “Kook, are you insane?” he exclaims and Jungkook practically tumbles inside, catching himself on the edge of the couch before collapsing into it beside Jimin.

“What... time is it?” Jungkook rasps, his voice hoarse, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “Seven.” Jimin replies nonchalantly, his attention still half on the news broadcast.

“Shit.” Jungkook mutters throwing his head back as he continues to pant, struggling to catch his breath. He rises from the couch after a few seconds, trying to balance himself. “Shit, shit, shit.” He repeats, hurrying towards his room.

Taehyung follows behind, leaning against the doorframe as he watches Jungkook throw his mask onto the bed and quickly yank off his gloves, tossing them haphazardly onto his desk.

“Weren’t you supposed to meet Y/n? For that art club thing?” Taehyung asks, raising an eyebrow. “Exactly!!” Jungkook whines, quickly undressing himself. As he pulls a hoodie over his frame, he glances at Taehyung.

“I was supposed to meet her at SIX, but then…” He pauses as he takes a seat on the bed and proceeds to slip on a new pair of socks along with his shoes.

Once he's done, Jungkook looks back at Taehyung, his frustration still palpable. “But there was this huge chaos at the bank, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop myself.” he admits as he stands up once more and heads towards his vanity.

Taehyung chuckles softly, watching his friend pace around the room, doing his best to salvage his disheveled appearance. That fight must’ve been exhausting.

Jungkook's one hell of a character... by day, just another regular college student... by night, the city’s elusive hero, Spiderman.

Taehyung often finds himself marveling at how his best friend, also his roommate, manages to juggle it all... his regular life and his double life... while keeping his true identity locked away tight, hidden from everyone.

"Knowing her, she won’t be too mad, I guess." Taehyung says with a casual shrug. “Let’s hope.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, clearly unconvinced.

After a few more moments of hurriedly fixing his hair into something more presentable, Jungkook strides towards the balcony door and opens it wide.

“Kook, you can literally use the front door.” Taehyung laughs, following him to the balcony, amusement in his voice. “This is faster.” Jungkook replies, already stepping onto the narrow ledge, looking down into the darkened street below.

Before Taehyung can protest any further, Jungkook leaps into the night, vanishing into the shadows with practiced ease.

Your gaze remains fixed on the canvas, eyes locked in concentration as your hand moves with fluidity, the paintbrush gliding across the surface.

The rhythm of your wrist matches the steady flow of the brush, leaving behind trails of vibrant color. You’ve been working on this piece for over two months now, meticulously crafting every detail for the upcoming college exhibition next month.

Jeon Jungkook, your partner, was supposed to be here today at six to help you with the finishing touches on the painting. But as you glance at the time, it's already 7:09 pm.

A soft sigh escapes your lips because he's still not here and frankly, this is so typical of him. Jeon Jungkook is always late.

But beyond his chronic tardiness, there’s something else about him.

He’s the campus heartthrob... the boy with the dreamiest set of eyes and the kind of smile that could make knees buckle.

Since your freshman year, he’s been the talk of the town, effortlessly climbing the social ladder. It’s baffling how, within just two weeks of college, he had managed to make himself one of the most popular guys on campus.

What surprised you more, though, was how, while girls seemed to swoon at his every move, desperately trying to catch his attention, this handsome, almost untouchable man was inexplicably fixated on none other than... you.

You don't exactly know how to explain the dynamic between you and Jungkook. You wouldn’t call yourselves friends... not when the way he acts with you goes far beyond what a friend would do.

For as long as you can remember, ever since the moment your paths first crossed, Jungkook has been nothing short of a flirt. But calling him just a flirt now feels like an understatement, a mere label that doesn't come close to capturing the way he actually makes you feel.

There’s something magnetic about him, something that draws you in against your will. His confidence, oozing from every word and glance, is impossible to ignore.

He doesn’t just flirt, he performs it as though he has an unspoken understanding that you’re his audience. And though his every word seems designed to get under your skin, there’s a strange kind of charm to it, one that makes it impossible to stay guarded, no matter how hard you try.

At first, you told yourself he was just another guy obsessed with his own reflection, someone who thought his good looks could win him anything, someone who believed he could have any girl he wanted.

But over time, it became harder to dismiss the undeniable pull this annoyingly handsome boy seemed to have on you.

He was everywhere. In almost every class you attended, always just a few steps behind you in the cafeteria, trailing you to the library when you tried to bury yourself in your studies, and somehow, no matter how hard you try to stay focused, his presence is impossible to ignore.

Hell, the guy even joined the art club just because you were in it and somehow managed to persuade you to be his partner, despite the countless other girls who were practically begging for the chance to take your place.

But it’s not just his presence that lingers.

It’s the way your heart beats louder in his presence, the way you find yourself gulping when he leans just a little too close, when his fingers graze your hair as he brushes it away from your face, his touch sending an electric jolt through you.

But that was nothing compared to the way he’d casually whisper provocative things in your ear... sometimes it was a simple compliment, like how stunning you looked in your new skirt, and other times, it was something much... bolder, like how he could... kiss you against the wall if you’d just let him.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel weak, your knees trembling in a way that felt completely foreign to you. And every time he’s near, your heart seems to race in a silent war with the walls of your chest, as if fighting to escape and be nearer to him.

But deep down, you know too well that you can't give in. No matter how dreamy and ecstatic he makes you feel, guys like Jungkook were nothing but trouble.

Good-looking, charismatic, and fully aware of the effect they had on people and guys like him were a perfectly packaged recipe for heartbreak and chaos.

The way he makes you feel is electric, a sensation that clouds your mind and leaves you breathless, but there’s always that nagging thought in the back of your mind... that maybe, to him, it’s all just a game. A silly way to pass his time.

For all you knew, he was probably doing the same with countless other girls because though you hadn’t believed it at first, you were beginning to see the truth now.

Guys like Jungkook could truly have any girl they wanted.

And yet, you can’t seem to push him out of your life, no matter how much you tell yourself you should. You let him follow you around, you let him flirt, you let him talk to you... because, despite the outrageous teasing and the sneaky comments, Jungkook is undeniably a nice guy.

Sometimes, the two of you have real conversations, ones that leave you smiling without even realizing it. He’s fun to be around, with the kind of humor that could lighten anyone’s mood, and there’s no denying he’s a good person underneath it all.

There’s also no denying the tension between you. It’s thick, tangible, and sometimes too tempting to ignore. But somehow, over these past few months, you’ve become a pro at holding back... at resisting what feels inevitable, even when it’s so very hard to do.

As you continue to work on your canvas, the swirl of racing thoughts crowding your mind, you suddenly hear a faint zapping sound at the entrance of the campus art studio. Your gaze shifts instinctively towards the door, and there he is... Jungkook.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, clearly trying to catch his breath. The way his chest rises and falls with every pant makes it obvious that he ran here.

You can’t help but watch him as he slowly regains his composure. The moment his eyes lock with yours, that familiar grin of his spreads across his face. That damn smile, the one that makes everything inside you stir.

"Did I keep you waiting for too long, Ace?" His voice is playful, teasing, as he strides towards you with that effortless confidence.

Ace. The nickname he’s given you, because in his eyes, you excel at everything you touch. Or at least, that’s how he always puts it with that knowing grin, as if it’s the simplest truth in the universe.

You roll your eyes, pretending to focus on your work, though you can feel the unmistakable flutter in your chest. "You’re a whole hour late, Jeon." you mutter, deliberately turning your attention back to the canvas, doing your best to ignore the effect he has on you.

Jungkook pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he notices the way you tense under his gaze. It's a reaction he’s grown all too familiar with, yet every time, it still amuses him in the most endearing way.

The way you get flustered, desperately trying to mask it, your cheeks flushing just slightly as you feign annoyance, scrunching your nose as if it could hide the effect he has on you... he loves it.

To Jungkook, you're the center of his webbed thoughts, occupying full residence in his mind ever since the very first time he laid eyes on you.

Jungkook had always been used to attention from girls. It was almost second nature for him, the charming, effortlessly charismatic guy who could turn heads without even trying. But you? You were a different kind of challenge, one he couldn’t ignore, even if he tried.

When he first saw you, something shifted. You weren’t like the others. While the rest of the girls seemed to fit into a predictable pattern of admiration, you stood out.

You were a mystery he couldn’t unravel, a riddle he couldn’t stop thinking about. Your beauty wasn’t just skin-deep... it was in the way you moved, the way your laughter sounded like a melody that stayed with him long after you were gone.

It was in the kindness that poured out of you effortlessly, how you treated everyone with a warmth that felt like home.

From the moment your smile met his, Jungkook knew he had to make you his. It wasn’t a question of whether you’d be interested... it was a certainty in his mind that somehow, someway, you would be.

The intensity of his feelings was undeniable, and it made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t before. He was confident, almost to the point of arrogance, but there was something about you that made him feel more vulnerable than he'd ever let on.

For months now, Jungkook has been pining over you, showering you with flirtations, occasional date invitations, and endless compliments. Yet, no matter how hard he tries, you haven’t given in.

It doesn’t frustrate him, though... in fact, it only fuels his desire. To him, it’s a challenge, and if there’s one thing Jungkook loves more than anything, it’s a challenge.

He thrives in the chase, relishes the moments when he flusters you, sees the subtle changes in your demeanor when he's around. The effect he has on you is very obvious, and it only makes him more determined.

He knows you're not one to fall easily, that you probably need time, need to build some kind of trust in him, to feel that giving him a chance would truly be worth it. And that’s perfectly fine with him.

No matter how long it takes, how many games of flirtation and teasing he has to play, Jungkook is more than willing to keep pursuing you. Because to him, you’re worth every second.

"So, you missed me, huh?" Jungkook teases, leaning effortlessly against the table behind you. His voice is smooth, dripping with that familiar cocky charm that always manages to get under your skin.

You scoff, not daring to let yourself get distracted from your painting. "Not only do you come a full hour late, but now you're wasting time with your stupid flirting." you hiss, turning your head over your shoulder to glare at him, but even that doesn't seem to faze him.

"Oh, please, Ace. Flirting with you is never a waste of time." he replies, the mischievous wink he shoots your way causing your heart to stutter. You groan, frustration bubbling up inside you as your insides twist and turn at his words, the very ones you know are meant to get a rise out of you.

"Why were you late, anyway?" you ask, trying to refocus your attention on the painting. You dip the brush into the water, switching to another color, but your mind is nowhere near your work. There's a gnawing curiosity in the back of your mind... something that feels just a little bit off.

For a moment, there’s no answer. But then, Jungkook's voice breaks the silence, low and a bit too casual. "Just got a little busy... with something." His words hang in the air, and you can’t help but feel that tug of suspicion at your chest. Something? A woman, perhaps?

Jungkook watches you work, eyes tracing your movements with a soft, almost reverent gaze. There's something about the way you carry yourself, so effortlessly graceful as you focus on your art, that makes his heart leap in his chest.

He can’t help it... every angle, every direction you’re in makes you look like something out of a dream, and it drives him absolutely crazy.

"Hey, Ace." he calls out, his voice light, but you don’t look back, still intent on your canvas. You hum in response, not trusting yourself to say anything more.

"I’ve got two tickets to a concert this weekend. Wanna join me? Could be a cute date." The words hang between you like a dare, a challenge. You pause mid-stroke, the brush suddenly halting as if your body has betrayed you.

You’ve heard him ask you out like this before, casually, with that easygoing charm of his. But every time, it leaves you breathless... nervous, excited, and undeniably conflicted.

The idea of going on a date with Jungkook, of letting your guard down and seeing where it could go, is like a dream, but it’s one you can’t seem to step into without hesitation, without feeling scared.

You don’t respond right away, nibbling on your lower lip as your eyes remain fixed on the colorful canvas in front of you, your mind a flurry of emotions you can’t quite make sense of.

"It’s… getting late." you mutter, clearly trying to steer the conversation in another direction, anything to avoid acknowledging the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

Jungkook watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving your face as he observes your subtle shift, your attempt to hide the nerves you always try so hard to control. He can’t help but find it amusing, that cute little fluster of yours. It’s endearing. Hell, it’s the part of you he loves the most.

As you set the brush down and hastily begin to remove your apron, trying to make it seem like you’re just wrapping things up, Jungkook can't stop the grin that spreads across his face.

You're so cute when you’re flustered, so adorably oblivious to the effect you have on him. But that just makes him want to chase you more.

"Hey, I just got here. Leaving already?" Jungkook asks, falling into step with you as you grab your bag and head for the door. You don’t spare him a glance, keeping your eyes forward as you reply, "Well, blame yourself. You came late, and I want to go home now."

He chuckles, his footsteps quickening to catch up with you. "Well, let’s get dinner then." he suggests, his tone light, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. "No." you respond flatly, not even bothering to look at him.

"Alright, what about ice cream?" His grin never falters, the mischievous gleam in his eyes making it clear that he’s not giving up that easily.

You can’t help but feel that warm flutter in your chest despite yourself. It’s something about his persistence, his charm, that always seems to melt away your resolve, even when you’re determined to stay unaffected.

You feel the corners of your lips twitch, a betraying smile threatening to break free, and you try to keep your expression serious. "Also, no." you manage to say, keeping your gaze fixed ahead as you both walk down the long hallway.

"Can I at least walk you to your apartment?" Jungkook asks, the hopeful tone in his voice undeniable. You narrow your eyes, glancing at him with a raised brow. "At this point, will saying "No" even make a difference?" you ask, the teasing edge to your voice not lost on him.

He just smiles wider, as if he knows he’s already won.

The moment you step into the open campus, the late evening breeze brushes against you, cool and refreshing, yet it does little to ease the heat bubbling inside.

As you walk, Jungkook casually falls into step beside you, his presence somehow making the air around you feel warmer.

"So, when are you gonna answer me?" he suddenly asks, his voice playful as you both pass by the soccer field, nearing the gates of the campus.

You know exactly what he's talking about, but you decide to act oblivious. "Answer?" you ask, not daring to glance at him, keeping your gaze ahead as if the question is of no consequence.

"Come on, Ace, you know what I’m talking about." His chuckle is unmistakable, and you feel a nudge on your arm as he inches closer to you.

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to stay composed, yet your pace doesn’t falter. "Why me?" you ask, feigning nonchalance. "I’m sure tons of other girls would want to go instead of me."

He pauses, matching your stride as he looks at you with that same confident grin. "But none of those girls are you, so it quite literally doesn't matter." he says simply, and though the words should comfort you, your doubts still creep up.

It’s hard for you to believe him, to fully trust his intentions. Your trust issues keep you cautious, always questioning the sincerity behind every smile and every word.

"Whatever, Jeon. I’m not interested." you reply, trying to steer the conversation away. "Plus, I have a test on Monday."

"Oh, please." he retorts with a teasing glint in his eyes. "I’m pretty sure you’ve already finished studying the entire syllabus and revised at least a thousand times by now. You could use a break."

You can’t help but smile despite yourself. "That’s not true. In fact, I still have an entire chapter left." you answer honestly.

"Just a chapter? Ace, I have the whole syllabus left. You don’t see me stressing, do you?" he grins as the two of you step onto the familiar pavement, cars passing by on the street every now and then.

"You say that like you don’t manage to ace the tests even when you don’t study. You call me Ace, but honestly, I think it’s you." you joke, though there’s truth in your words. Jungkook is effortlessly good at so many things, and that includes academics.

Jungkook grins at the subtle compliment, warmth spreading through his chest. Suddenly, you pull out your phone, scrolling through your notifications. He walks quietly beside you, relishing the simplicity of this moment.

Somehow, just doing mundane things like this with you feels exhilarating... like a high he never wants to come down from. Being near you feels like heaven.

"Wow, Spiderman’s on the news again." you suddenly remark, stumbling upon an article as you scroll through your phone.

At this, Jungkook’s shoulders tense slightly. You’ve never mentioned Spiderman before, and now he doesn’t quite know how to react. He knows you have no idea about his double life, but hearing the name still makes him feel just a little paranoid.

"Oh... really?" he asks, leaning in slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of your screen. "Yeah." you reply, eyes still fixed on the article. "He apparently stopped a bank robbery."

Jungkook sneaks a glance at your face, noting the faint smile tugging at your lips. It tugs at his heart. Then, curiosity gets the better of him.

"What... are your thoughts on him?" he asks carefully. He knows exactly what he’s doing... he’s just a little greedy to know what you think about his alter ego, his other side. You glance up from your phone, eyebrows furrowed. "About Spiderman?"

He nods, his eyes searching yours as you look away, seemingly deep in thought. "Well, you know, a lot of people think he’s in the wrong," he begins, testing the waters.

"They say he’s reckless, breaking laws, making hasty decisions, taking justice into his own hands instead of letting the legal system do its job. So... I was curious... what do you think about that?"

You hum thoughtfully, your gaze distant. "Honestly speaking... I think he’s pretty cool."

Jungkook’s heart races slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, keeping his expression neutral. He assumes that’s all you have to say until you speak again, clearly not finished.

"I understand why people would think that..." you say, your voice softer now as you turn back to him. "But... I think what he does is extraordinary."

His heart skips a beat, though you don’t notice.

"I mean, think about it..." you continue, your voice gaining quiet strength. "He's someone who could use his powers to live an easy, selfish life. He could focus on himself and never worry about anyone else. But instead, he puts himself in danger every single day to protect people he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t have to do any of it, but he chooses to because he believes it’s the right thing to do. That kind of selflessness? It’s rare. And it’s brave."

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat tightening as your words sink in.

"Sure, maybe he doesn’t always follow the rules, but sometimes, doing the right thing means bending them. At the end of the day, he saves lives. And I think that’s what really matters." you finish, a soft smile gracing your lips.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on yours. For a moment, he forgets everything... his fears of being unmasked, his doubts, his double life. All he can think about is you and the way you see him, even without realizing it.

"Yeah..." he finally murmurs, his voice quieter than usual. "I think you’re right." he adds. You give him a curious glance, noticing how moved he seems, but before you can question it, he clears his throat, masking his emotions with a playful grin.

"So... are you saying Spiderman’s your type?" he teases. You narrow your eyes at him, a small laugh escaping your lips. "What kind of question is that?"

He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. "I mean, you just gave this whole heartfelt speech about how selfless and brave he is. Sounds like your dream guy to me."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head in amusement. "Just because I admire what he does doesn’t mean he’s my type. For all we know, Spiderman could be... I don’t know, the kind of guy who puts pineapple on pizza."

Jungkook gasps, clutching his chest in mock horror. "Whoa, hold on. Pineapple on pizza is elite. Are you saying Spiderman’s taste might actually disqualify him?"

"Exactly." you reply with a teasing grin. "Hero or not, some things are just dealbreakers." you shrug, giggling. Jungkook raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Seriously what's wrong with pineapple on pizza?"

"Everything." you reply with a smirk. "But anyways... he might not even be my age or someone I could actually hold a conversation with. Just because someone’s a hero doesn’t mean we’d click, you know?" you add, returning back to the conversation.

"Fair point." Jungkook concedes, though his smirk doesn’t falter. "But let’s just say, hypothetically, Spiderman showed up right now, unmasked, and he was your age, charming, and funny. Would you give him a chance?"

You bite your lip and narrow your eyes, pretending to think about it. "Hypothetically?" you ask. He nods, leaning in slightly, as if your answer means more to him than he’s letting on.

"Maybe." you admit with a small smile. "But only if he’s not cocky about it." you say. Jungkook chuckles, looking ahead as you both continue walking. "Noted." he says softly, the faintest hint of relief in his tone.

The walk towards your apartment continues, his playful flirtations refusing to take a pause. At one point, he casually takes your hand while crossing the road, and somehow, you don’t pull away.

Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s hosting a full-on festival in his chest, but he works super hard to play it cool, hoping you don’t suddenly get self-conscious and snatch your hand back.

As your apartment building comes into view, he feels an ache in his chest. He doesn’t want this to end. These little moments, these stolen evenings when he manages to walk you home, are everything to him. He treasures them more than you’ll ever know.

When you finally stop outside your building, you turn to him, flashing him a soft smile. "Thanks for walking me home, Jeon." you say, your voice warm but casual. That’s when you realize your hands are still intertwined... so naturally, so deeply.

You can feel his thumb lightly brushing against yours, and though you’re hyperaware of it, you don’t pull away. It feels too… right. Hopefully, he doesn’t hold this against you later and claim you're like... madly in love with him or something.

Jungkook looks at you, and there’s a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. He clearly doesn’t want to let go. "Well then... I’ll see you tomorrow?" he asks, his voice almost hopeful. You nod, smiling back at him.

You think he'll let go of your hand first but somehow, neither of you move. The world around seems to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there in the golden glow of the streetlights. Seconds tick by in silence before he speaks again.

"Ace, think about that concert date, okay? I really... really want to go with you." His voice is soft, but the weight of his sincerity makes your heart feel unsteady, as if it might tip over any second.

You let out a quiet sigh, your gaze dropping to the pavement. You want to say yes. You really want to say yes. But that familiar paranoia, that nagging voice in the back of your mind, refuses to loosen its grip. It holds you back, whispering doubts you can’t quite silence.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your brows knit together, the subtle hesitation in your posture. He notices how your fingers unconsciously tighten against his, as if reflecting the weight of the thoughts racing through your mind.

But then, like an unwelcome intruder, a sound cuts through the quiet night... the faint, distant wail of a siren. His focus shifts instantly, and he knows what it means. Somewhere in the city, someone needs him.

The conflict in his chest is palpable. He doesn’t want this moment to end, this fleeting bubble of time where it’s just the two of you, but the sense of duty outweighs his desires.

Reluctantly, he lets go of your hand, his fingers brushing yours one last time, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle. He offers you a small, almost apologetic smile. "Sleep on it and let me know tomorrow, okay?" he says, stepping back.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already grinning, that playful, heart-melting grin that always leaves you breathless. "Goodnight, Ace. I’ll miss you until tomorrow."

And just like that, before you can even think of what to say, he’s jogging off, the rhythm of his steps fading into the night. You stand there, rooted in place, staring after him as he turns the corner near your apartment.

The words you wanted to say hang in your throat, unspoken. Something inside you stirs... a flicker of impulse, and you instantly feel the undying need to call out to him, to stop him, to at least reassure him that this time… you would truly think about it.

You find yourself taking a step forward towards the corner of your building, your feet carrying you towards the direction he ran. You peer into the dimly lit alley that stretches endlessly ahead, the streetlights casting long, faint shadows. But to your surprise, Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

You blink, your brows furrowing. The stretch of road is empty, eerily quiet except for the distant hum of the city. It’s as if he’s vanished into thin air. You linger there for a moment, the cool night air brushing against your skin, and you wonder with a small, bemused smile...

Just how fast can Jungkook run?

Your pen moves swiftly across the page, the sound of it scratching against paper blending with the hum of the classroom around you. You’re fully immersed in Mr. Choi's lecture, absorbing every word with precision.

While everyone else around you is still shaking off the fog of sleep, struggling to find their rhythm, you’re deep in the flow, your thoughts sharp and disciplined. The lecture hall, with its rows of slumped, half-conscious students, seems like a distant world to you, as if you’re the only one who’s truly awake.

Suddenly, the smooth cadence of Mr. Choi’s voice falters, interrupted by the abrupt sound of a door creaking open. “Late again, Mr. Jeon?” Mr. Choi’s voice is laced with the usual mix of amusement and annoyance as his eyes narrow in mock disapproval at the figure standing at the doorway.

Of course, he's late. Jeon Jungkook is always late.

You lift your gaze, your focus momentarily broken, and you catch the playful, almost apologetic bow he gives Mr. Choi before he makes his way through the aisles.

With practiced ease, he navigates his way through the rows, his presence so familiar, so effortless, that it feels almost like the room adjusts itself to accommodate his presence.

And just as always, his eyes find yours, as if drawn by some invisible thread, and a mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. He gives you a wink, subtle but unmistakable, before he settles into the seat right behind you.

“Good morning, Ace.” he whispers, the soft murmur of his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the lecture hall. You hear the faint shuffle of his bag as he slides into his seat and despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

You fight it, focusing back down at your notebook, your fingers still gripped tightly around the pen.

Soon enough, the lecture wraps up, and Mr. Choi gathers his things, his footsteps echoing through the quiet room as he exits. As you stand to pack your bag, your eyes naturally drift towards Jungkook, who is already in the process of putting his belongings together.

You don’t say anything at first, the familiar rhythm of his presence next to you doesn’t need words. But just as you turn to head down the steep stairs of the lecture hall, you feel his arm slip around your waist with that effortless familiarity.

“Hi.” he greets, his voice low, the sound of it so casual yet intimate. It’s not the first time he’s done this. In fact, it’s something he’s done countless times before, despite the many times you’ve asked him to stop.

Not because you dislike it... even though you tell yourself to, you just can't, not when his touch feels so natural, so right... but because of the unwanted attention it draws. The way all eyes seem to latch onto the simple act of him holding you close.

“Heading to the cafeteria ??” he asks, turning his head to meet your eyes, his expression full of that unshakable playfulness that always makes your heart beat a little faster.

You carefully reach for his wrist, gently peeling it away from your waist, the skin beneath your fingers suddenly tingling with warmth. You step a little further from him, trying to steady the swirl of emotions coursing through you.

God, why does the touch of his skin against yours make your insides feel like jelly? The warmth of his hand lingers, even though he's already let go, and it makes your chest tighten with something you can’t quite place.

“Yes.” you manage to answer, keeping your tone steady despite the storm brewing within you. You turn back towards the stairs, forcing yourself to walk at a pace that’s somehow slower than usual.

But, as always, Jungkook follows. He trails behind you like a puppy, each of his footsteps matching yours, and you can feel the weight of his attention even without looking at him.

He just can’t help it. His devotion to you is palpable, an invisible thread that binds him to you in the quietest, most powerful of ways.

There’s something so deeply affectionate in the way he always tries to be around you, so undeniably tender in the way he never lets you go, even when you don’t always ask for it.

Once you step into the bustling cafeteria, the scent of freshly made food fills the air, making your stomach grumble despite just having a light breakfast. Jungkook, ever observant, glances around before turning to you with that signature playful smile of his.

"Why don’t you go ahead and sit over there?" he suggests, pointing at an empty table tucked in the corner near the windows. "I’ll grab your strawberry milk and—" He pauses, eyes scanning the cafeteria for something. "Maybe that pastry you like too."

You smile softly at his attentiveness, nodding in agreement as you part ways and walk towards the table. As soon as you sit down, the familiar warmth of the cafeteria wraps around you, and just as quickly, two figures approach your table.

"Hey, Y/n !!" Soomin’s voice cuts through the air, bright and infectious. Yeji follows closely behind her, her smile just as warm. They’re two of your closest friends from university, and you share quite a few classes with them, making their presence all the more comforting.

You smile and wave them over, the three of you exchanging greetings as they take their seats across from you.

"God, I have a test at two, and I’m so unprepared." Soomin groans, flopping her head onto the table. Yeji chuckles beside her, clearly used to Soomin’s antics. You let out a soft laugh, reaching across the table to pat Soomin’s hand reassuringly. "You’ll do fine, don’t worry. You always do."

Soomin groans even louder, but it’s clear she appreciates the reassurance. "Did you have a morning class?" Yeji asks, taking a bite of her sandwich as she looks at you with curiosity. You nod. "Yeah, Mr. Choi’s lecture." you reply.

"Ah, Mr. Choi..." Soomin says, nodding knowingly and soon enough she's slipping into casual conversation with Yeji as you listen, comfortably sinking into the rhythm of the discussion.

Amidst their chatter, your attention shifts to the far side of the cafeteria behind Soomin and Yeji. You spot Jungkook, navigating through the crowd with ease, a tray of food balanced carefully in his hands.

On the tray, you can already see the familiar strawberry milk and your favorite snack from the cafeteria... things he’s memorized with startling precision. It makes you smile without thinking.

He’s always so thoughtful, remembering even the smallest details about what you like to eat. And though you’ve always tried to resist letting him fetch your food, his determination, combined with how cute he looks doing it... eventually won you over. Now, you just sit back and let him.

Soomin, ever the observant one, notices your gaze and follows the path your eyes are tracing. She turns her head to look over her shoulder and spots Jungkook making his way towards you, a grin spreading across her face as she leans closer.

"Oh, so you're here waiting for 'loverboy' as usual." she teases. You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. "Oh, come on. He’s not my loverboy." you say, trying to dismiss her comment, though there’s a warmth that creeps into your voice that betrays your calm demeanor.

"Here she goes again." Yeji laughs, shaking her head knowingly. "You always say that, and yet he’s never not by your side." she adds, her voice full of amusement.

You look down at your lap, suddenly shy under the weight of their teasing. "He’s just… a good friend." you mumble, though deep down, you know the truth... Jungkook is just so much more than that.

"Hey, guys." Jungkook says, his voice easy and casual as he approaches the table, unaware of the playful conversation that had just taken place.

He flashes a grin at Yeji and Soomin before placing the tray of food in front of you, his movements natural and fluid as he takes a seat right beside you. They greet him cheerfully, and once you begin eating, the topic shifts seamlessly.

"Guys, oh my god, did you see the news yesterday? Spiderman stopped a bank robbery!! He looked so cool doing it." Yeji exclaims, eyes wide with excitemen.

Jungkook hides a grin behind his hand, amused by their enthusiasm, while Soomin jumps in, agreeing wholeheartedly. "He's sooo hot, oh my god." she says, her tone filled with admiration.

You chuckle at their exaggerated reactions, and Jungkook's gaze flickers to you. There's a warmth in his eyes, something deeper than before.

Ever since last night, when he discovered how you truly feel about his alter ego, his feelings for you have intensified. It’s as though a switch has been flipped, and what he feels now is so much more than before... more profound, more intense.

"I so badly want to see his face." Yeji continues, her voice dripping with longing as she playfully covers her mouth with her hands. "Like, think about the amount of handsomeness he's gatekeeping from the world under that mask." She giggles, the thought clearly thrilling her.

Jungkook can't help but smirk at the conversation, his heart thumping a little faster as his eyes linger on you. He wonders, with a hint of curiosity and something more, how you would react if you ever found out who he truly is.

Once you're ready to head to your next class, you bid your goodbyes to Soomin and Yeji, making your way out of the cafeteria. Unfortunately, this is one of those rare moments when you don’t share a class with Jungkook, but, as always, he insists on walking you all the way there.

The walk towards the classroom is filled with silence, the only sound being the soft shuffle of your steps and the occasional hum of distant conversations. Jungkook walks beside you, that familiar, easy smile still on his face, while you're trapped within your own mind, battling the conflicting emotions swirling inside you.

Each day, it becomes harder to ignore the growing pull towards him. You’ve always been able to keep your feelings at bay, but lately, every moment with him feels like a thread tightening around your heart.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop pushing him away. You’ve been fooling yourself, trying to deny what’s so obvious now. There’s something real here, something deeper than you ever let yourself admit.

The small things he does for you... the way he remembers the smallest preferences, the subtle gestures that show how much he cares... these are not signs of a passing flirtation.

Probably Jungkook isn’t playing games. His kindness, his attentiveness, it all feels genuine, too sincere to be anything else. Could it be possible that he’s been this dedicated all this time because what he feels for you is actually something real?

“I’ll catch you after class, Ace?” his voice breaks through the storm of your thoughts, and you suddenly realize that you've reached your classroom. You look at him, meeting his gaze, and see that same, unshakable smile. You nod, offering him a small smile in return.

“Okay then...” he trails off before playfully saluting you with a grin and turning on his heels, ready to head to his own class. But as he starts walking away, something shifts in you.

You feel the weight of everything you've been holding back for so long... the hesitation, the reluctance, the fear and suddenly, it becomes too much to bear. In that moment, you realize you can’t do it anymore. You can’t keep holding back.

“Wait !!” you call out before you even realize what you’re doing. Jungkook stops in his tracks, turning around to face you with wide eyes. He’s standing a few feet away now, the hallway suddenly feeling too quiet, too still, save for the distant murmurs from the nearby classrooms.

“What’s up, Ace? All good?” he asks, stepping closer. You swallow hard, locking eyes with him, your gaze steady, conveying an unspoken determination to finally unpack everything you’ve been feeling.

There's no going back from this. No more hiding, no more second-guessing. You’ve wrestled with your doubts long enough, and now, it’s time to be honest with yourself... honest with him.

“What time are we meeting at the concert venue?”

You gaze at your reflection, a soft smile tugging at your lips. You’re about to do the unimaginable... finally giving Jungkook a chance. A chance to take you out, to show you a good time.

Your mind drifts back to his reaction when you finally gave in.

He had been so shocked, his happiness so genuine that he couldn’t contain himself. He had practically swept you off your feet, spinning you around in excitement, his cheers echoing so loudly that even the professors in neighboring classrooms had peeked out to see what the commotion was all about.

Smiling at the memory, you grab your bag, running your eyes over your reflection one last time. Everything feels perfect... just the way you imagined it would be.

It's about 6, and the concert is set to start at 6:30pm. Jungkook had suggested that he'd meet you outside the venue at 6:15pm and after the concert, he’d take you out for dinner and then walk you back home.

It’s simple, but honestly, it’s perfect for you. Though giving in to him was a difficult choice, the excitement building within you now makes it all worth it. You can’t wait to see where this night takes you, to finally spend time with him in a way you’ve always wanted.

You take a cab, and before you know it, you arrive at the concert venue. The place is alive with energy, bustling with fans, people roaming around holding posters and chatting excitedly. You wait near the entrance, a smile fixed on your face, your heart racing with anticipation.

He should be here any minute now, and the mere thought of him sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You glance at your phone, the time flashing in front of you— 6:21 p.m.

He’ll probably be here soon, and since Jungkook has a reputation for always showing up late, you decide to give him some extra time... after all, you're nice like that.

You remain in the same spot, eyes fixed on the entrance, watching the crowd shuffle by as people get their tickets verified and enter the venue. Each person who passes by only adds to the knot in your stomach. You try to stay calm, hoping that any second now, you’ll see Jungkook running towards you with that bright smile of his.

But somehow, that moment never comes. You keep glancing at your phone, the seconds creeping by. 6:25... 6:27... 6:32...

And then, before you realize it, you're standing alone near the entrance. The crowd has long since filtered inside, and you’re left in the growing emptiness.

The guards, noticing your solitude, kindly inform you that the concert is about to start. You force a smile, awkwardly explaining that you’re waiting for a friend who’s bringing the tickets.

You cross your arms, a sense of vulnerability washing over you as you realize how small you feel in this vast sea of people who have already moved on with their evening. Another glance at your phone—6:45pm.

He’s still not here. Maybe it’s time to call him.

But of course, as if the universe itself has conspired against you, the call goes straight to voicemail. You try again. Same result. A wave of frustration builds in your chest, mixing with a strange sense of abandonment.

By the time it hits 7:00, impatience starts to bleed into worry. You expected him to be late, but not... this late. The music from inside the venue filters through the walls, a distant reminder of what you should be experiencing right now, with him.

Instead, you're left standing outside, alone, while the night continues without you. The excitement that had once bubbled within you now feels hollow, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of being left behind. You were supposed to be inside, enjoying the concert with him, not stranded here like some forgotten afterthought.

You find a nearby bench and sink onto it, feeling the weight of your own exhaustion pulling you down. The night has already taken a turn you never imagined, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to leave.

Something inside you clings to the hope that he might show up, even though deep down, you know the truth. Still, you force yourself to stay, to wait, just in case.

But time drags on. 8:00 p.m. passes in a blur, and then 8:45 p.m. follows soon after. He's still not here. The longer you sit there, the more the crushing weight of your emotions presses down on you. It’s like something inside you is slowly breaking apart, unraveling piece by piece.

Your chest tightens, and you feel nauseous... not from the food you didn’t get to eat, but from the overwhelming wave of hurt that seems to take over every inch of your body.

You've lost count of how many times you've called him. At first, it was in the hope that maybe something came up, maybe he just needed a minute. But after the countless unanswered calls, the realization hits you like a freight train... Jungkook had stood you up.

And it stings more than you ever imagined it could.

By the time it’s 9:36 p.m., you finally notice the crowd emerging from the concert venue. They all look so happy, so full of life, with bright smiles and hazy eyes, as if the night was everything they hoped it would be.

But for you? It’s like everything had shattered. The sharp contrast between their joy and your deep, empty ache is enough to make your heart feel hollow.

You feel like a fool. All this time, you were waiting for someone who never showed up, for someone who clearly didn’t value your time or your feelings.

With your head down, you begin to follow the crowd out of the venue. You don’t make eye contact with anyone... you don’t want them to see the quiet hurt written all over your face. All you can do is walk, every step heavier than the last, as you try to hold yourself together.

As you walk further and further from the concert venue, the quiet of the night wraps around you like a cold, suffocating blanket. The hum of the city feels distant, the bustling crowd now far behind you.

And with that silence, a single tear escapes your eye, trickling down your cheek. You quickly sniffle, wiping it away, furious at yourself for letting it fall. This... this is exactly why you were so paranoid, so hesitant in the first place. You were scared of this. Scared of letting someone in, only to be left standing alone.

Your vision blurs with the mix of emotions swirling inside, but you force yourself to look up at the sky, willing your tears to stop, praying they won’t fall anymore.

With a shaky breath, you pull out your phone, desperate to distract yourself. Your thumb scrolls aimlessly through the screen, trying to avoid the thoughts that threaten to consume you. But then, the latest news catches your eye.

"Spiderman Rescues Family from Burning Building"

The headline stands out among the others, and for a moment, you're frozen. You scroll further, reading more articles, hoping the news will help you forget the mess of your own emotions.

"Spiderman Dashes into Fiery Inferno to Save Trapped Children" "Masked Vigilante in Action: Spiderman Saves Dozens from the unexpected fire."

But as you read the headlines, a deep sense of irony gnaws at you.

Well, at least this Spiderman guy was showing up on time to save people’s lives, you think bitterly to yourself. Here’s someone who doesn’t make excuses, someone who actually follows through with what he promises.

And then there's Jungkook. The one who had practically begged you for a chance to take you out, only to leave you waiting, completely abandoned and alone.

You're so engrossed in the article you're reading that the world around you begins to blur. The flashing images of Spiderman saving lives seem to temporarily distract you from the sinking pit in your stomach.

But as you continue to scroll, an unsettling shift in the atmosphere pulls you from your thoughts. You suddenly realize the alley you're walking through has grown eerily quiet. The bustling sounds of the city seem to fade into nothingness, replaced by an unnerving stillness that sends a chill down your spine.

Just as you register the ominous change in your surroundings, an unfamiliar voice cuts through the silence. "Well, well, well... What do we have here?" The words drip with malice, each syllable sending a shiver down your spine. You snap your head around, your heart immediately leaping into your throat.

There, standing in the shadows, is a group of four men. Their eyes are fixed on you, their smiles twisted into something dark and predatory.

A sharp intake of breath escapes your lips as your pulse quickens, and instinctively, you step back, your feet heavy and uncooperative. Your mind screams at you to run, but your legs feel weak, as though they’re unwilling to obey.

The cold air around you seems to freeze, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You curse yourself silently, realizing too late how foolish it was to carelessly venture into this alley... one that looks too shady, too quiet, too dangerous.

"Don’t be scared, sweetheart." one of the men says, his grin widening, his teeth glinting under the bright moonlight. His voice drips with cruel amusement, and the other three step forward, the sound of their footsteps sending a tremor through your already fragile composure.

Your body instinctively takes another step back, but the weight of their gaze pins you in place. Every instinct in your body screams at you to run, to escape, to get away... but the terror coursing through you is paralyzing.

You can't think. You can't move. The fear is suffocating, and you're trapped under their gaze, unable to do anything but stand there, frozen.

"We just wanna have fun, beautiful." the same man calls out again, his voice a twisted mockery of sweetness. The words slither in the air, sending a rush of panic through your chest.

Your breathing grows erratic, shallow, as the weight of their intentions becomes painfully clear. You can feel the blood in your veins turning cold as your fight-or-flight instincts surge to life.

In an instant, it's as if a fog has cleared, and your body reacts before your mind even registers. You whirl around and start running, your feet pounding against the rough ground.

Your heart races, the beat hammering in your ears, the only sound louder than your frantic footsteps is the deafening laughter of the men right behind you as they mercilessly chase after you.

It’s as if they thrive on your fear. The sound of their boots slapping the ground echoes in the alley, relentless and close, sending a fresh wave of terror surging through you.

This alley is like a maze to you, completely unfamiliar, and the more you run, the more hopeless it feels. You don’t know where you’re going... just hoping for some miracle, some escape.

Every turn you take feels like you’re running deeper into the trap, their laughter reverberating around you, a sickening reminder of how far out of your control this has gone.

Tears spill down your face now, hot and stinging, mixing with the fear clawing at your chest. You just wanted a normal night, a fun time, a simple date. Instead, you're running for your life, your every breath coming out in ragged gasps.

This was the worst possible turn of events, and you absolutely hate it.

In the chaos, your foot catches on something, your ankle twisting painfully as you lose your balance. You don’t have time to react, your body toppling forward as the ground comes up to meet you.

A sickening scrape sounds as your knee crashes against the rough, jagged concrete, the sharp sting of pain shooting through your leg.

For a split second, everything is frozen... your breath caught in your throat, your body sprawled on the ground, knees scraped and bloody. The echoes of the familiar laughter seem to grow louder, nearer, filling the space around you like a nightmare you can't wake from.

And just like that, the men close the distance, their boots stopping mere inches from you as they loom over your crumpled form. Their smirks are triumphant, twisted with a sense of sick satisfaction, as though they've already won whatever vile game they’re playing.

"You shouldn't have ran like that, princess." the leader sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. He tilts his head, staring down at you as if you’re a pathetic little thing he’s cornered.

"Look at you... all scraped up and trembling. Such a shame." His words slither through the air, making your skin crawl.

You’re shaking uncontrollably now, your hands bracing against the cold, rough ground as you instinctively push yourself back, desperate to create even a shred of distance. But they move forward with you, step by step, their shadows stretching over you like a suffocating shroud.

"Please..." The word falls from your lips, broken and barely audible, a breathless whisper of desperation. Your tears blur your vision as they keep streaming, unchecked and unending. "Please leave me alone..." you plead, your voice cracking under the weight of your fear.

One of them chuckles darkly as he strides closer. "Oh, we will, darling." he says, his grin widening with something cruel and sinister. He crouches down, his knees cracking slightly as he brings himself eye-level with you.

The proximity makes your breath hitch. "But not so soon." he says, his smile is razor-sharp, the kind that makes your stomach churn.

"Look at you..." he murmurs, his voice low and taunting. Slowly, he raises a hand, the movement making you flinch violently. But it doesn’t stop him. He drags the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his touch slow and burning, like he’s savoring your helplessness.

You gasp, the air caught in your lungs as you jerk your head back, straining to pull away. "Don’t be shy..." he coos, leaning closer, his breath fanning your face.

The metallic tang of your scraped knee mixes with the acrid stench of sweat and smoke clinging to him, making you feel even more nauseous.

You try to glance over his shoulder, frantically scanning for someone... anyone, to come to your rescue. Your heart pounds as your eyes dart around, searching for an escape route that doesn’t exist.

The moon shines bright tonight, illuminating the men’s devilish smirks, making their expressions even more menacing. As the man’s hand inches closer to your face, the air behind the gang seems to shift, a subtle disturbance that pulls your focus.

Your breath hitches, and your tear-filled eyes widen as you catch a clear sight of a figure descending through the air... a silhouette both strikingly familiar and entirely surreal.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, a sharp, wet squelching sound cuts through the tense air.

The man crouched in front of you lets out a muffled yell, his voice quickly stifled as sticky, glistening webbing splatters against the back of his head and encases his entire face.

He stumbles back, clawing at his face, but the more he struggles, the tighter the strands seem to stick.

You gasp, frozen in place, your heart pounding against your ribs. The sudden movement has drawn the attention of the other three men, and they whirl around, their shock evident as they come face-to-face with the figure that has just landed, only a few feet away.

Their expressions twist into disbelief, and one of them stammers. “Is... is... th-that... is that...S-Spi... Spiderman?”

The name reverberates in your mind, almost surreal. You blink, still trying to make sense of the situation. Was this really happening right now?

The man at your feet continues writhing, desperate to peel the webbing from his face, but your focus shifts. Spiderman doesn’t give the others a chance to react.

With a swift, effortless motion, he launches himself into the air, his body moving with a fluidity and precision that you’ve only ever seen in the numerous viral clips circulating on social media.

Before the nearest thug can draw his weapon, Spiderman swings low, his legs extended, catching the man square in the chest. The force sends him sprawling backward, crashing into a stack of crates that splinter on impact.

The remaining two men shout in alarm, their bravado crumbling as they scramble for some semblance of control. Spiderman doesn’t stop. Launching himself onto the wall of the alley, he runs along its surface, the soles of his boots clinging effortlessly.

He shoots another web, snagging a metal trash can, and hurls it with precision. It connects with the second thug’s hand, sending a knife skittering across the pavement. The man yelps, clutching his wrist, but before he can retreat, Spiderman flips through the air, landing right in front of him.

A quick jab followed by a sweep of his leg sends the man crumpling to the ground.

The final thug, now trembling, looks between his fallen companions and Spiderman. “I... I don’t want any trouble!” he shouts, raising his hands.

“Oh, you’ve got plenty of trouble.” Spiderman retorts, his voice calm but laced with authority. With a flick of his wrist, another web shoots out, pinning the man’s arms to his sides. He stumbles back, stuck against the brick wall, writhing futilely.

You sit frozen on the cold ground, unable to look away as Spiderman surveys the scene. His movements are controlled, efficient, as if this is just another routine patrol.

Finally, he turns towards you, his masked gaze locking onto yours. Though his eyes are hidden behind the opaque lenses of his mask, the slight tilt of his head exudes concern. He doesn’t say a word, just quietly observes you, or at least that’s what you assume he’s doing.

With slow steps, he moves closer, crouching down in front of you. Yet, unlike the men who had terrified you moments ago, his presence doesn’t evoke fear. Strangely, you feel a sense of safety. Your breathing remains uneven as you stare at him, catching a fragmented reflection of yourself in the glossy eyes of his mask.

“Thank… thank you.” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t reply. Instead, his hand moves hesitantly, almost unsure, before brushing a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture is gentle, and for a fleeting moment, it feels oddly familiar... like a memory or a déjà vu you can’t quite place.

But your mind is too frazzled, too overwhelmed to make sense of it.

Still silent, he rises to his full height and extends his hand towards you. The gesture is simple yet reassuring, his gloved palm outstretched as if to say, Trust me.

You hesitate for a second, searching his masked face for answers you know you won’t get, but eventually, you place your trembling hand in his.

With a careful tug, he helps you to your feet. The moment you shift your weight, however, a sharp pain shoots through your leg, and you let out a small yelp, nearly losing your balance.

Instinctively, his other hand settles around your waist, steady and reassuring, as if he anticipated your faltering step. The contact is firm yet gentle, grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

He pulls you closer, his presence commanding yet calming, and guides your arms around his shoulder.

“Hold on tight.” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet reassurance that leaves no room for doubt. You blink, startled, still trying to piece together what he’s about to do.

Before you can even question him, he raises his free hand, aiming it with precision. A sharp thwip cuts through the air as a strand of web shoots out, latching onto the edge of a distant building.

And then, with a sudden jolt, you’re airborne.

A gasp escapes your lips as the ground disappears beneath you. Instinctively, your grip tightens around him, your fingers clutching at his suit as if your life depends on it. Well in this case, it does actually.

The rush of wind tears through your hair, and your heart pounds in your chest as he swings effortlessly between the towering buildings.

Despite your initial panic, his hold around your waist is unwavering and firm like he's silently assuring you that he won't let you go, won't let you fall.

It’s surreal... the way he moves with such fluidity, his motions precise and calculated, almost as if he’s done this a thousand times before. Each swing feels like a dance between gravity and defiance, the world blurring around you as he carries you through the cityscape.

Before you can fully process the ride, he lands with practiced precision on the pavement outside your apartment building.

The abrupt shift from soaring through the air to solid ground leaves you momentarily disoriented. You exhale shakily, your heart pounding relentlessly from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

His hands release their steady grip on your waist, but he doesn’t immediately step back. Instead, he lingers, watching you closely, as though ensuring you won’t falter.

Your fingers are still clutching at his suit, a reflexive hold from the chaotic blur of moments before. It takes a few seconds before you register that you’re safe, your mind catching up to the fact that you were literally flying just moments ago.

That was, without a doubt, the most insane thing you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Finally, your gaze drifts away from him, focusing instead on the familiar outline of your apartment building. The normalcy of it feels almost jarring after the surreal turn your evening has taken.

You take a cautious step forward, putting some distance between you and the masked hero as you try to untangle the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.

How did Spiderman know where you lived? Did superheroes have some kind of uncanny ability to figure out people’s addresses? Or was it just a lucky guess? The absurdity of the question makes you pause mid-step, your mind scrambling for some kind of explanation.

You turn around to face him again, your thoughts still a jumble. "How... how did you know where I—"

But before you can even finish, the familiar thwip slices through the quiet night. Your words falter as you watch him propel into the sky, his silhouette a fleeting shadow against the dim glow of the city.

He’s gone. Just like that. Swinging effortlessly through the labyrinth of buildings, leaving you rooted to the spot, your unfinished question dissolving into the stillness around you.

Maybe he was in a rush... he’s a superhero, after all. People probably needed him more than you did now. But the thought doesn’t soothe the ache of unfinished gratitude sitting in your chest.

You didn’t even get to thank him properly... for saving your life, for pulling you out of the nightmare of that alley, and for bringing you home safely.

The faint echo of his departure lingers, merging with the soft hum of the night, as does the strange medley of emotions swirling within you.

Gratitude and confusion take the forefront, but there’s something else, something deeper and unnameable, tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

You glance up at the sky where he disappeared, your heart heavier than it was just moments ago. A superhero had saved you, yet all you can think about is how familiar something about him felt... and how impossibly far away he seemed now.

part 2 -> (coming soon)

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