yearning | jjk one shot
the one that finds you in Jungkook's doorstep after a night out...
Description: idol!jungkook x reader, fwb
Content: porn with loads of plot!
Word Count: 7.5k
Warnings: oc smokes 1 cigarette lol, they’re so flirty ouch, so much kissing, cutest little dynamic, dry humping (a personal fave in this house), fingering, protected sex (they’re so smart!!), loads of spanking, jaykay ass man forever.
Author’s Note: i once sworn to never write idol aus because… i know nothing about this man ok? i do not claim to know what he’s like in a relationship or a situationship or in his personal life!! so please thread carefully when reading <3333 that being said, his lives last year and these first couple of episodes of “are you sure?” have me feeling very delulu so here u go!! hope you enjoy xo
★ masterlist ★
This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x
The moment you exit the club, a gust of summer breeze engulfs you. It makes you wrap your arms around your body, but it amounts to nothing, the little black dress that you’d made the executive decision to wear, in the name of fashion, betraying you. The tequila shots you'd downed before leaving the house sure had deceived your senses, too.
Needless to say, you regret said decision, a shiver running down your spine all the way to your legs, making you jump a little in place as you tipsily look around you. You’d cut the night short. Your friends had found another lonely pair they’d quickly gotten cozy with, leaving you to drink one too many gin & tonics all by yourself. You hadn’t minded it for the first two hours, enjoying the music, sparking conversation with the bartender from time to time and entertaining the occasional stranger. Eventually though, it became boring, predictable, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel a little shitty about yourself.
It was all getting repetitive. Friday nights, the same faces, small talk, ice breakers. Even the strangers you met had a similar M.O., making it all seem predictable. It made it feel like a waste of self, more than a waste of time, and it ate at you in moments like these, where it was strange to feel lonely amongst a sea of people, unable to shake the feeling.
The bright city lights illuminate the night, lacing it with something livelier than your mood and you smile. At least the scenery is always pretty. Pretty places. You hear the laughter of a group of people that stand a couple of feet away from you, they seem happy in that genuine way that reflects in pure, unadulterated beauty. Pretty people.
You think of him.
It’s rather instant. Or perhaps instinctive. The very own butterfly effect of your thoughts because to you, he’s the prettiest of them all. He’d been since the very first day, and as you lose focus of the pretty sights the more you stare into the city lights with him on your mind, you can’t help but think nothing will ever stand close.
A girl stands next to you, audibly shivering as she exits the club and the air greets her with the same fate it did you. She holds a cigarette between her red lips, the fire from her pink lighter shining on her red hair. It makes you crave one, too, rummaging through your bag for your own. You smile when you remember how he would tease you for smoking “the skinny kind” as he would call them. Calling you a bit of a snob, but all in lighthearted nature. After all, he could. He knew you enough to let your closeness turn into inside jokes, banter.
Perhaps giving into a vice could prevent you from falling into another.
“Can I borrow your lighter?” she smiles at you before she’s handing it over. Her nails are pink, too.
The fire feels pleasant for all of five seconds, warm against your face as you take the first drag. You give into one instinct so as to distract yourself from the one that’s tugging at your heart and senses, begging you to make a reckless call.
You check the time.
2:32 A.M.
~
Jungkook scrolls through the endless list of channels aimlessly. Small snippets from whatever’s playing that he cuts short, not really giving it much thought. He settles on one, solely so he can stop putting exertion on his thumb and go back to leaning against his couch – fully relaxed. He sighs. On the screen, some drama he hasn’t gotten around to watching plays, and the story seems to be developing quickly. He doesn’t care for it, if he’s honest, simply content with the white noise it fills the room with.
Bam leaves his dog house, standing right in front of him and they seem to start an unspoken staring contest. He smiles, patting the spot right next to him on the couch and the pup rushes to take the place excitedly. He gets cuddles and kisses simply for existing. For keeping him company – his presence giving Jungkook more peace than he’ll ever know.
“Hey, Bam, should we, like, meet up in our next life as well? Perhaps I’ll be the dog in that one and you’ll be my owner.”
Bam simply stares and Jungkook swears if he could, he’d let out a deep sigh right now. This makes him laugh.
“Hey, don’t be jumping of excitement at the idea, man.”
At this, he attacks. With kisses, that is – wet, sloppy kisses that have Jungkook giggling and pushing back, though it is no use, his dog is that determined to give him love.
“Alright, you win. Let’s go get a beer. For me, not for you. You’re still too young. One day, son.” His voice takes on a lower tone, imitating his father. Or maybe Yoongi’s, he can’t tell anymore.
He retrieves a cold beer mug from his freezer and cracks the can open, nodding his head at the sound it makes, the fizziness bubbling up before he pours it in the cold glass. He takes a sip as he walks back to the couch, blissed out in leisure.
He doesn’t mind being alone, specially not on nights like this when sleep leaves him and everything but seems more tempting. He likes the way everything slows down at this time of day, the ease of it all. No one to see, no texts to reply to. As for what the world is concerned for, he’s asleep. It’s peaceful, just being.
Plopping down on the couch, he rests against the pillows, making himself comfortable. He must’ve spoken too soon, he thinks, because it’s not thirty seconds after this that his phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of him. He ponders on the possibility of simply ignoring it, let it sit there, facing down. But something tells him he should check the message. It could be important, or not. The pull isn’t necessarily violent, just a quiet voice that tells him so, like a little nudge. He leans forward, setting his beer on the table before he’s taking a hold of his phone.
He gets it now – the pull.
From ___: jungkookie, u awake?
To ___: no
From ___: can I call?
He smiles – so fucking big he almost hates that he does, slightly flustered and embarrassed you have this quick of an effect on him. And before he can talk himself out of it, he calls you.
~
Seeing his name flash on your phone screen does more to you than anything you’ve deemed exhilarating tonight. The simple prospect of hearing his voice rushes more excitement through your body than any of the mindless conversations you had this evening. Than any of the conversations you’ve had all week perhaps. You smile and there’s no doubt that he can hear it in your voice when you say,
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
There’s a moment of silence and you can hear the smile on his face, too. It’s warmth – he’s warmth, even far. How far is he, you wonder. Did you happen to demand of him at a bad time? Will the end of this call find you disappointed?
You cut to the chase.
“What are you up to?”
There’s a pause and you can hear the way he sinks into his couch. “Can’t sleep so I’m having a beer and watching some TV with Bamie.”
He’s home and a giddy giggle escapes you. “Ahh,” you say.
“You? It sounds busy in there.”
“Yeah, I’m outside the club.”
“Fun night?”
“No.” You don’t lie, you never lie to him. Don’t have the need to, or the want to. Everything about Jungkook is comfort – the kind that welcomes.
“Yeah, had a feeling. It’s not really your scene, is it?”
Your head leans to the side, eyes closing for a moment. He knows you in ways most people don’t, and it’s a simple remark but it gets to you. The fact that he doesn’t see you for the parts of you that feel the emptiest settles on your heart. It’s good, you think, to be seen by someone who observes.
“I want to see you.” There’s all the point in the world to be honest right now.
“Come over. I’ll make you ramen.”
“Will you show me your cat?”
There’s a pause. You picture him smiling, biting his lip, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, that too.”
~
You sway from side to side, a little drunkenly and a whole lot excited, as you stand in front of his door. It’s brief, but as you wait you make a little reflection on your emotions. What exactly do you feel right now? It’s been so long – probably not that long – but long enough to make you happier than usual to be seeing his face. Anyone else would make you nervous, and perhaps he does, too, if only a little. But it’s a different kind of nervous. It’s laced with sweetness, as opposed to anxiety. And the minute he opens his front door, it’s replaced by something sweeter.
Yearning.
He stands there, glasses and black sweatpants on, signature oversized shirt – something so very home about him. Your eyes widen as you take in his hair, it’s grown significantly, giving you a rough idea of when it was you last saw him. Two, three months ago. He looks good; rested, fresh, beautiful. You can smell him before you even touch him and it makes you smile. He returns it.
Yeah – yearning.
“I like your hair,” you say, because anything else would give you away.
“Yeah?” he runs a hand through it. “I like you.”
“I like you, too.” Let it give you away, you think. Who cares?
“Alright, well- it was nice seeing you.” He says, closing the door in a too casual, yet dramatic manner and you laugh, simply standing there – a little flustered because, oh does it feel good when Jeon Jungkook flirts with you in that boyish, teasing way only he knows how.
He doesn’t close the door all the way. Instead, he leaves it open far enough for you to see the way he peeks his head out, nose scrunch and toothy smile to signal just how proud he is of himself right now.
“Come here,” he tells you, reaching his hand out from the little gap and pulling you closer as you yelp, squeezing through the nearly closed door. “I missed you.”
You’re in his arms again, and the moment he closes the door behind you, his lips are on yours. It’s a soft kiss, one that says I missed you because you know him well enough by now to understand the things he says with his lips, and his eyes. With his hands, too.
“Mm,-“ you don’t want to pull back to get your words out, so you don’t. “Me more.”
Jungkook was always a happy coincidence – or at least that’s what you told yourself in a futile attempt to tame the feelings down. But the truth was that being back in his arms felt like fate, in that gentle way that doesn’t come in a movie-like encounter or in some sort of catastrophe bringing you together. Just being here. Anywhere, with him, felt fateful. You opt to believe in angels right this second just to thank them.
“How are you,” his hand cups your cheek, pecking your lips before you can answer.
“Good- better now.” His kisses muffle your words and you think you could live with this interruption for the rest of your life.
“Yeah, me too.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as he circles his around your middle. You take him in, not one for big displays of affection yet this one you could never deny, could never not welcome.
It’s a sweet moment but the pull turns hasty soon enough the more your lips become familiar with one another yet again. You run your fingers through his long hair, rejoicing in its softness and length. His hand travels down, slowly but a bit desperately, squeezing when they meet your ass.
What has a promising ending is cut short by none other than your rumbling stomach. It’s rather loudly and you both hear it, laughing in the middle of the kiss you two seem to refuse parting from.
“You hungry, baby?”
“You promised ramen. And something about a cat.” Your lips part and you look at him, a pretty smile on his equally pretty face.
“Mm, yeah. I did. I’m all stocked up on ramen but the cat…,”
“I prefer Bamie anyways.”
You leave his arms, a smile on your face as you walk towards his beloved child’s crate. The moment he sees you, he hesitates for a moment, not yet having Jungkook’s command to leave his space but he’s excited – you can even make up his little tail wagging from side to side.
“Come here, baby.”
He runs to you and nearly tackles you, settling into the floor to give him the proper cuddles he deserves. He steps on you the way he did when he was a puppy, sitting down on your knees as you scratch under his ears.
“No one’s allowed to tell him he’s grown up. He’s little forever.”
Jungkook laughs. “He’s Jiminie’s height.”
You sneer at him, shaking your head at his joke. He stands there, staring at you with a fondness he reserves for certain things that bring him that kind of comfort that’s gotten rarer over the years. He’s grown up, matured and gotten real about a lot of things but not you.
Never you.
You’re still the innocence he kissed you with that very first time and the little bit of fear it wouldn’t go further than that. You’re the excitement he had when it did. You’re the flirty teasing and the falling in trust, opening himself little by little. You’re still something he once dreamt about – he still does. You’re the thing he has and doesn’t at the same time. You’re you.
Your loud giggles as Bam licks your cheek wake him up from his little daydream and he winces at the sloppy kisses he’s leaving. You don’t seem to mind though and he knows that if it were up to you, you’d stay there til dawn. No ramen, no cat.
“Alright, alright. Daddy’s getting jealous now. You can’t have her all to yourself.”
Your cheeky smile tells him you’re up to no good. “Daddy, huh? Have we ever tried that?”
“What haven’t we tried?” He genuinely ponders on his own question.
“Pegging!” You say, a little too quickly and excitedly for his liking.
“Absolutely not.”
“Mean.”
“Come on, let’s feed you.”
You smile. “Okay, daddy.”
~
It’s a chaos in the kitchen in between distracting kisses and your tipsy antics, munching on Jungkook’s leftover fried chicken as you scavenger hunt his cupboards for anything that could satisfy your alcohol induced need for sweets and carbs. You’d begged for pancakes, but he didn’t have any honey, and what’s pancakes without honey, really?
“Ramen. Enoki and spring onions.” He says, convincing himself more than he convinces you.
“Okayyyyy. Ramen, enoki- what else did you say?”
His thumb and pointer finger rest at his temples in mock exasperation, making you giggle. “Hey, why don’t you go shower? This’ll be ready when you’re done.”
“Will you be able to work a knife with the thought of me all wet and naked in your shower?”
“I’ll get you wet and naked later. Go sober up. Quick, quick!”
You laugh, kissing his cheek loudly and ruffling his hair before you leave the kitchen, making your way to his bedroom with familiarity - like you’ve done it hundreds of times and perhaps you have if you were to count.
You know where he keeps the towels, that it’s the left tap that opens the hot water, the way his soap smells and what brand of shampoo he uses. His face wash and moisturizer are familiar to you because it’s the same brand you use. You’d left them here once and never got the bottles back. He began purchasing them after they ran out.
You put on the same black Carhartt shirt you always do. It feels and smells the same. It makes you yearn and when you miss him, you smile in the comfort of knowing he’s in the kitchen, probably eating ramen from the pot as you take your sweet time in the bathroom.
All clean and cozy, his house always being the perfect temperature with the add on warmth that swarms your insides at knowing you’re with him, you make your way back to the kitchen. He’s reaching for bowls, back to you and your voice startles him when you say,
“Don’t get dishes dirty, let’s eat from the pot.”
He turns to you, a boyish smile forming on his lips at the sight of you in his comfy, oversized shirt. He’s seen you in it more times than he can count but it still makes his insides tingle. Butterflies, dare he say, is what the sight gives him.
“You sure?”
“Aren’t you? Afraid of exchanging saliva?” You poke your tongue at him and he grabs your wrist, pulling you swiftly towards him.
“Not the funnest way we’ve exchanged juices, but it’ll do for now.”
“Juices.” Your nose scrunches at his words.
“Mm.”
He kisses you, ramen getting cold in the pot as your lips make him forget all about his hunger in the first place. Your stomach doesn’t, though. Interrupting your heated little moment yet again.
“Feed me.”
“On your knees, then.” He teases, lips still on yours.
“That sounds more like a treat than a threat.”
He smiles, passing you the chopsticks. “I knew you’d say that.”
“Am I that predictable?”
“With me. Yes. Just me.”
His words are selfish, of this much he’s aware. He knows exclusivity is too much to ask for. He knows the baggage he comes with and the hesitation that shines through your eyes whenever you find yourselves slipping into comfort and familiarity a little too much. How he can almost tell he’s about to go a season without you, just by this comfort alone. But he can’t help but want you, all to himself. He can’t help but say you’re his even if he’s just saying it. And when the smile on your lips meet your eyes in an almost nostalgic way, he knows you feel the same.
“Yeah. I am.”
“I am with you, too.”
“I’d say I tried to talk myself out of texting you tonight, but I’d be lying.” Your chopsticks play with the noodles, eyes not meeting his.
“Why would you talk yourself out of texting me?”
You shrug.
“Don’t.” His voice is firm and your eyes finally look at his. “I’m always- I always want to see you, ___.”
“I know, it’s just- you know.” You say, and he does. He knows what you mean and he’s glad you don’t voice it because he doesn’t think he can bear the words that would only add insult to injury to the way your gaze falls, that spark threatening to dim its light.
“Yeah,” he gets closer, but it’s almost careful. His thumb caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch. “But you’re here now. I want you here now. Come back to me.”
You stare into his big eyes, smiling at him not because your heart isn’t breaking but because you wouldn’t dare break his with the reality of the situation. So you lie, but it holds truth. “I’m always with you.”
As you two eat, in bursts of comfortable silences and mindless yet meaningful conversations, you start to get used to him again. You’re too tired to fight it, and when you welcome it, it’s sweet.
~
The pot is empty, your bellies full. You lean against the counter as he puts you to date, catches you up on what his life has looked like for the past two months or so. Trips to L.A., New York, photoshoots, late nights in the recording studio, music videos, long flights and a Calvin Klein campaign you shamelessly admit to swoon over every time you pass by it. He asks about you and you keep your updates mostly work related. Long flights, long meetings, long days. Short bursts of inspiration and even shorter waves of motivation. You omit to tell him about the things you’re maybe not so proud of. The partying, the drinking on a wednesday night, the way your friends don’t feel like your friends anymore, more like acquaintances that keep you around when they deem convenient. You think his words could help, provide comfort and advice, but at the same time you fear the reality of the situation could burst the bubble of bliss you find yourself in right this moment.
So you talk. You catch up. You play friends for a while, feel real mature when he shares snippets of his life that involve other people, other girls. People in his radar, his line of work, the love interest in his music video. Jungkook does, too. Feels like perhaps he’s come a long way when you tell him about trips you’ve taken with friends, new restaurants you’ve tried, galas he knows you haven’t attended alone. It’s all fine, it’s good. Total control of your feelings as you take each other in.
Bam interrupts him mid-sentence, a sleepy whine in half protest he lets out as he walks inside the kitchen.
“Aw, Jungkook,” you coo, “he’s sleepy.”
“Time for bed, Bamie?” He smiles, reaching down to scratch under his ears. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
You smile, well aware that he keeps his dog bed in a cozy room in his house, quite literally puts him to bed every night. It makes you think about how good of a dad he’ll make one day, how much love is stored inside of him, how he likes to be needed and shows affection through acts of service. Your smile drops a bit, a feeling taking over you that you don’t like but have grown used to over the years.
You snap out of it, busying yourself as you begin to tidy up the kitchen, sliding his pink rubber gloves over your hands before you start washing the single pot, knife and chopsticks he’d used to make you dinner. It doesn’t take him long to be back, though, walking back inside the kitchen and smiling at the sight before him. You hum a song he can’t make up, hips shimmying to the beat as you scrub the pot. Your shirt rides up a little and he cocks his head to the side, smiling at the way your underwear peeks from underneath the fabric. A black and lacy thong that has him nodding his head in boyish satisfaction.
“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you, making you jump in place a bit at the sound of his voice.
You turn around, bringing a gloved finger to your lips as you shush him before you’re pointing it at the couch and shooing him away. “I’ll only be a second. Wait for me there.”
“‘Kay, boss.” He army salutes you, turning around and walking back to the couch, sitting down and sinking further into the cushions, legs spreading as he scrolls through his phone, a bit impatiently, missing you even though you’re so close.
And to Jungkook’s great fortune, he doesn’t have to wait for much longer. Wrapping it up in the kitchen, you give it one last glance to make sure it’s back to its pristine state before you’re making your way towards him. He looks up at you, throwing his phone to the side and following you with his eyes, smiling when you’re in front of him.
“Thank you for dinner,” you say, voice sweet and low, eyes a bit hazy.
“Come here.” He takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as you throw your legs at either side of him, straddling him.
“I needed this,” you admit.
“Me too,” he breathes. “I’m glad you called.”
You pout, eyes looking up for a second as you ponder. “You called me.”
He chuckles, not a single ounce of desire to deny you. “I’m glad I called.”
You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers getting lost in his long hair. His head draws back as your nails massage his scalp gently and he relaxes at your touch, goosebumps adorning his skin. His hands travel under your shirt, promptly finding your hips, waist, and then threatening to go higher but Jungkook wants to take his time tonight. He wants to stay in the sweet state of wanting you for a bit longer. When his eyes are back on yours, you kiss him. He sighs against your lips, bringing you closer to him by the waist, letting his tongue taste your bottom lip before he’s tasting your mouth. It’s slow, a bit sloppy and lazy, holds the quality of anything that happens in the middle of the night, when no one’s watching and time stills for the two of you.
“Your skin is so soft,” he says, lips still on yours.
“It’s your body lotion.” You roll your hips over his, smiling when you pull a low groan straight out of him.
“Yeah,” he says, hands traveling down before he’s squeezing your ass, guiding your hips into his. “You smell like me. I like it.”
“I like it, too.” Your words get caught up in a moan as the outline of his cock parts your slit perfectly.
You pull away a bit hesitantly, hands coming to rest at his shoulders as your hips pick up the pace. You go slow but sink deeper into him with every roll of your lips, eyes never parting from his as you take in the way his face starts to contort in pleasure, mouth parting slightly as his breathing grows heavier, little grunts leaving his lips with every push and pull. His hands travel back down to your hips, squeezing a little at the soft flesh, guiding them as you move over his cock. He’s so hard, can feel you through the layers, can bet on the fact that you’re wet and pulsing for him right now.
“That feels good,” he sighs, gaze dropping as he rides your shirt up a bit at the front. His eyes fixate on the way the thin, lacy fabric of your panties bunches up every time you throw your hips back.
“Brings back memories,” you say, voice a bit shaky when a particular roll of your hips has the tip of his cock hitting right against your clit.
Jungkook smiles, mind hazy but perfectly able to picture the memories you refer to. “Mhm,” he sighs, so entrapped by the feeling he swears he can feel you pulse against him. He likes the way you consume his senses. The way everything around him stills and all he can think about is you. His hands squeeze at the flesh on your hips before he says, “turn around, baby.”
“‘Kay.”
Jungkook feels the loss of your warmth as you stand up before him once again, smiling at him before you’re turning around and sitting on his lap. You press your back to his chest, letting your head fall to his shoulder, your lips meeting his cheek in an open mouth kiss. His hands travel up your body, palms closing around your tits, thumbs playing with your nipples over the thick fabric of your shirt. You circle your hips, chasing the same friction from before but it’s not enough in this position. You bring your body forward, hands resting on his thighs as you throw your ass back at him, your pussy perfectly aligned on top of his cock, making you both moan at the same time. Jungkook’s gaze drops to your ass, enthralled by the way he feels, by the way you look. He rides your shirt up your back, exposes you to him and it only eggs you on, moving against his cock at the perfect rhythm.
He hooks a finger down the side of your panties, letting it travel down, smiling lazily at the way you trap his knuckles between your pussy and his cock, moaning as you grind on them. He can feel how wet you are, dripping for him already even though he hasn’t touched you yet. “Want my fingers, baby?”
“Yes, please,” you plead, voice shaky as you look back at him.
He’d usually tease you, make you beg for it a little longer, but tonight Jungkook obliges. It’s been long – too long – and all he can think about is being inside you, feeling you around him, making you feel good. He takes his time simply so he can savor the moment. So he can memorize it well enough to store it somewhere inside of him, just in case it’s another three months until he sees you again.
He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, hissing at your warmth, cock jumping inside his sweatpants in anticipation and a little big of neglect. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over you as he begins to thrust his fingers inside of you slowly, arching expertly every time they hit your g-spot. His free hand squeezes around your ass cheek, groaning when the hand that fucks into you pushes down on his cock, aiding at giving him some much needed friction. You feel lightheaded already, all-consumed in his hold as he takes over your every sense. Your body relaxes and you can feel the way your tummy tenses right away.
“Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum,” your voice is faint but he hears you well enough.
“Already? That was fast, baby.” You don’t miss the cocky tone his words hint at.
“Shut up and don’t stop,” you say, looking back at him playfully.
You see the way he smiles at you before his gaze is dropping back down, fingers moving expertly inside of you at the same pace, applying a bit more force as he pushes in, massaging that spot with the tip of his fingers. The added pressure has you mewling in no time, nails digging into his thighs, teeth biting at your bottom lip to ground you back into the moment as you let go.
“Fuck,” he says as he feels you cum around his fingers, sweet moans filling the space around you and he so badly wishes he could look at your face right now. “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He feels the way you contract around him, hips circling over his hand as you ride the waves of pleasure.
You come down after a minute, mind still hazy as you fall back into him, lips finding his the moment he turns his head to the side. You kiss him, breathing into his mouth, smiling in your fucked out bliss. “That was so good.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “I need you to fuck me now.”
“Want it?” he asks, and you nod your head. “You can have it.”
“Yeah, want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your voice is needy, holds a dreaminess to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss – one that makes him melt into your words, your touch, your lips as you kiss him again.
Jungkook presses his hips into you, raising them a bit as he pushes his sweatpants down. You help him take them off, hand reaching back before you’re wrapping it around his cock. He’s hard and pulsing for you and if you weren’t pulsing for him, too, you’d probably want him in your mouth right this second. He feels heavy, big and thick in your hold, a grunt leaving his lips when your thumb circles around the head. You love how sensitive he is, how receptive.
“Condom,” he says, before he runs out of blood in his brain and it all falls down to his cock.
“In my bag,” you say, reaching to the side and pulling it towards you. You rummage around it for a second too long – a second that has Jungkook’s mind betraying him. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But nonetheless he can’t help but wonder where you’d be right now if he’d been asleep and hadn’t seen your text. Perhaps in the same position but with a stranger. Or maybe a stranger only to Jungkook. Perhaps he hadn’t been the only person you texted tonight. “Here you go, baby.”
Your voice dismantles his worries and he’s warm again, all thoughts vanishing and it’s back to you and him. He leans forward, kissing your lips as he takes the condom from your hand. It makes you blush slightly, biting your lip in anticipation as you watch as he rips the foil of the packaging with his teeth. You watch the way he smirks as he rolls the condom on.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Just thinking,” he says, smile growing wider, cheek dimples making him look cute but something about his voice begs to differ.
You hum. “Thinking about what?”
He smiles. “July 14th, 2021.”
You both crack up, laughter filling the air the moment the words leave his mouth because of course you know what July 14th, 2021 meant. You’d been in a position very similar to this one, perhaps a bit more hazy minded, the true meaning of the heat of the moment finding you the minute you’d realized neither of you had a condom. You’d looked into each other’s eyes and made the silent agreement to be a little reckless and put a whole lot of trust on birth control and Jungkook’s pull out game.
He said he’d never forget that day.
“Long live, July 14th, 2021,” you say.
“Shhh,” he says, squinting his eyes and bringing a finger to his mouth. “Don’t remind me.”
“You reminded yourself,” you bite back. “Now, can you fuck me? Pretty please.”
“Yeah, baby, come here.”
You push your ass back at him, looking at him from over your shoulder, biting your lip in anticipation as he strokes his cock once, twice, before he’s lining himself against your entrance. His hand comes to your hip, pulling you down towards him as you push him inside of you. You both sigh, moaning as he bottoms out, so deep and warm it has Jungkook throwing his head back against the couch, sinking further into it and pushing impossibly deeper into you.
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimper, nails digging into his flesh.
“Fuck me, baby,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. You nod, circling your hips a couple of times as you adjust to his size before you start moving your hips into him, ass bouncing with every push and pull. He hisses at the sight alone, bringing his hand down as he delivers a hard slap against your cheek, making you moan. “Shit, just like that. You’re so hot, ___.”
“Jungkook,” you whisper.
“Yeah, baby?” His eyes are back on yours, threatening to close in pleasure at the way your pussy feels around him.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, baby. So much.”
You fall into his chest, kissing him as he wraps his hand around your throat, not applying any pressure, just simply holding you. You gasp into his mouth when his other hand travels down and finds your clit, drawing lazy circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine and he moans when you move your hips to the rhythm of his touch.
“I don’t wanna be on top anymore,” you say, pouting into his lips, frowning when you feel his chest shake in laughter.
“Of course you don’t.”
“I’m an awful top.”
“You’re not a top.”
“Hey, I was a good top that one time,” you protest.
“Mm, yeah, that was hot. You got all bossy on me.”
“Oh, but that’s regardless,” you tell him, pushing your lips into his once more and straightening your back, smiling as you look back at him. He wipes said smile off your face in a second, hand meeting your ass in another hard slap.
“Stay there,” he says, holding firmly onto your hips.
“Okay, daddy.” That earns you another slap, though you can’t say it wasn’t exactly the goal in mind.
“Behave.”
Your face grows pliant as you nod at him and Jungkook has to fight to keep up the front because if he’s being honest, the sight alone drives him crazy, threatens to break him down completely and leave him a needy, whiny mess. He holds you in place, legs raising you up a bit before he starts pistoling his hips against you, fucking you hard and fast and even though you saw it coming, it still takes you by surprise. The force of his thrusts, how good he feels as the pain translates into pleasure, the noises he makes – it’s all too much but fuck, you don’t want him to ever stop. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes closing as your face contorts in pleasure before the sensation ripples through you and you’re crying out. Your hand holds onto his arm and the firm grasp you have on it let’s him know.
“Fuck, I’m cummin,” you breathe out.
“Fuck yeah, baby. Cum all over my cock.”
“Oh my God,” you say, voice shaky and faint as you throw your body back into his.
“Fuck, I love your pussy.”
“I love your cock,” you say, fucked out giggles escaping your lips.
It takes you both a minute to steady your breathing and regain your strength. Jungkook kisses your neck, snaking a hand inside your shirt and squeezing your boob as you arch your back at the feel. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”
“Music to my ears,” you say, giddy and excited.
Your knees buckle a bit when your feet touch the floor, the both of you laughing at your loss of balance, Jungkook a bit more cockily than you. He slaps your ass softly once, then twice as you begin to walk towards his bedroom. Once inside he takes his shirt off and when you turn around, your eyes scan over his body, metaphorically and possibly physically drooling over him. Your hands find the hem of your t-shirt before you’re pulling it off your body and tossing it aside until it’s landing on top of his. Your tits bounce as you do, and he nods his head at you, a satisfied pout adorning his lips. The pout turns sour the moment you turn around but is soon enough replaced with a smile when you start to crawl on top of his big mattress, finding the perfect spot over his pillows and laying down comfortably.
“You’re so perfect.” Jungkook says, because anything else would downplay it and he’s not in the mood to run away from the truth. You giggle, soft and sweet and he feels the way his heart aches for you inside his chest.
“Come to me,” you say, arms outstretched towards him. He makes his way to you, letting himself hover over you for a minute as he takes you in before he’s falling perfectly between your legs. You kiss him, letting your fingers get lost in his hair, breathing into the kiss and you swear this moment is laced in pure, unadulterated bliss. “Want to feel you inside me.”
“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.”
There it is, yet again, and without a fail. It’s so common you nearly miss it – the way the moment turns tender. It’s mostly soft, this unspoken agreement you’ve fallen into with Jungkook. It’s friendship and attraction, good sex and years of exploring each other. It’s trust and communication. It’s understanding. It’s soft at the beginning and tender halfway through. It’s so tender it feels tangible, like the moment itself could fit inside the palm of your hand and feel ripe to the touch as you hold onto it. It’s tender when he looks into your eyes, it’s tender when his voice says your name, when you kiss his lips. It’s tender when the lust borders on something else. It’s tender when it lingers, when it threatens to fall.
He fucks you, hips moving against yours slowly, pulling moans out of your lips that get caught between his own when he kisses you.
“You feel so good,” you whisper into his mouth, words that only he could hear even if it weren’t just the two of you.
“Fuck, baby, so do you,” he whines, supple and yours, even if for that moment. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”
You smile, hand running through his hair before your fingers are pushing a strand behind his hear. “Cum for me, Kookie. Wanna feel you cum for me.”
Your words throw him over the edge, falling blissfully into you. It feels so fucking good. Your fingers running through his hair, down his neck and then back up again. The way your pussy clenches around him, cock throbbing for you at the wake of his release. Your lips are soft and the rise and fall of your chest falls into perfect sync with his. His hand squeezes at your breast before it’s traveling down your body, squeezing at your thigh before you’re wrapping your legs around his waist, flushed to him. Every little thing you do heightens his senses until all he can breathe, think and feel is you. His face falls down the crook of your neck and you breathe out a moan into his ear, unraveling him completely.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” His hips slow down before they still completely, a moan passing his lips as he releases into the condom, your nails softly running down his spine. His body feels spent but he doesn’t miss the way it relaxes on top of you, blissful and peaceful, growing sleepy right away.
“Feel good?” you ask, your fingertips running down his back in what feels like a feathery whisper.
“So fucking good,” he mumbles against the skin of your shoulder before his eyes are finding yours again. He kisses you. He kisses you because in moments like this he wants to say something else, something that makes more sense to his heart than anything his brain could say.
You kiss him back, afraid your heart will betray you, too.
~
You stare at him as you make your way back to his bed. He lays on his tummy, cheek pressed against the soft pillow, his pretty hair framing his face in a way that makes him look dreamlike. He doesn’t move an inch when you pull back the covers, if only for a second, to get back in bed with him. You lay on your side, eyes still fixed on him and your heart grows a new kind of tender at the sight of his sleeping form. He’s pouty and soft and so, so peaceful. Something sinks in your tummy, but it’s not in a way that signals bad news. Perhaps it’s the butterflies settling, perhaps the heat of the moment has began to cool down.
Your hand comes to his face, fingers gently pushing his hair out of his eyes before you let them wander down his face. His cheeks are soft, his ears cold and when it tickles, he frowns. Your thumb travels up again, smoothing his brow bone and he relaxes. Your eyes follow your touch as you trace the bridge of his nose, slowly, softly, as if you were being quizzed on it later. Wanting to take everything in, afraid that even blinking could take away from the moment. And when your finger lands on his lips, you trace that too the way your own did only minutes prior.
His eyes begin to flutter, a failed attempt to open them but you know he’s partially awake from the smile that pulls at his lips. You feel it on your finger before your eyes meet his gesture and when they do, you close them instinctively, leaning over and kissing him. His body can’t respond to his brain right now, exhausted and more asleep than he is awake, but he hums in satisfaction, lips puckering as he tries to give into his instincts.
“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll go buy honey and make you pancakes.”
You smile, though he can’t see, and perhaps it’s for the best. Your voice is a whisper when you say, “deal.”
His smile is the last thing you see before you fall asleep.
~
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Hummingbird - Part: I
Summary: In the quiet town of Jackson, Joel becomes consumed by a dark and overpowering obsession with his new neighbor. What begins as fascination quickly spirals into something much darker as he loses control over his desires.
3,6k
Warnings: +18, MDNI, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, obsessive!Joel, stalking, voyeurism, dark themes, explicit sexual content, masturbation, age gap (not specified), unprotected PIV, noncon, sexual obsession, power imbalance, dark!Joel, inappropriate behavior
Part: I
Here’s Part II.
· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··
In the quiet of Jackson, where the rhythm of daily life had settled into a predictable monotony, something delicate and strange began to intrude upon Joel Miller’s routine. It was a morning like any other, with the sun rising lazily over the horizon, casting a gentle golden hue across the town. Joel was out on his usual run, his steps methodical and unhurried as he made his way back to the his house, his mind occupied with mundane thoughts.
It was then, amidst the usual rustle of leaves and distant hum of the town awakening, that he first heard it. At first, it was barely perceptible—a faint, ethereal sound drifting through the air like a whisper from another world. Joel paused, his attention momentarily snagged by the delicate melody that seemed to dance just at the edge of his hearing. It was as if the air itself had taken on a subtle, musical quality, a softness that contrasted starkly with the rough edges of his usual environment.
He turned his head, his gaze searching for the source of this unexpected serenade. It was coming from the house next door, a modest structure that had always seemed unremarkable, shrouded in vines and surrounded by the casual chaos of overgrown greenery. The sound was so incongruous with the house’s unassuming exterior that it felt like a secret whisper from within, something hidden and precious.
Joel’s curiosity was piqued. He stood still for a moment, trying to catch the essence of the melody. It was a hum—a soft, resonant tone that seemed to rise and fall with a natural, almost instinctual grace. The notes were like tendrils of mist, curling through the air and slipping past his defenses. He could only imagine the source, but it was enough to make him linger longer than usual, his gaze drawn toward the window of the house.
He paused, listening, his gaze instinctively drawn toward her house. Through the window, all he could make out was a fleeting shadow, a delicate form moving gracefully inside.
At first, Joel thought nothing of it, dismissing the moment as an odd distraction. But as the days passed, something began to shift in him. He found himself increasingly drawn to that house, his curiosity growing with every glimpse of her. It started innocently enough, with stolen glances as he passed by, but soon it became more deliberate. His steps slowed near her house, his eyes straying toward her window, searching for even the slightest sign of her. He was fascinated by the way she moved, by the way her hands gently tended to the garden, her fingers brushing over the petals of flowers she grew with such care. Each sight sent a strange rush through him, something that made his pulse quicken.
· · ─────
The first time Joel saw your face, it struck him with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs. He had been watching, hidden behind the blinds of his window, when you stepped outside. The world seemed to pause, holding its breath as your eyes met his, just for a brief, charged moment. Your wide, innocent eyes framed by long lashes, and the natural rosy glow of your cheeks, made Joel’s chest tighten. You smiled softly, the gentle curve of your lips triggering something deep inside him. He felt it immediately—a need so intense it nearly overwhelmed him.
Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, a relentless pressure building in his pants. His body reacted violently to the sight of you—his cock hardening painfully. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the overwhelming urge to approach you, to bridge the gap that separated you.
That was when the obsession began.
He started to hear your voice more clearly, each utterance a sweet murmur that resonated deep within him. Even the simplest exchanges—casual hellos, friendly greetings—were like a siren’s call, drawing him deeper into his obsession. Your voice was a melody that seemed to play directly to his most primal desires. Every word you spoke, every laugh, every soft-spoken sentence made his resolve crumble.
As he observed you from a distance, he couldn’t help but be captivated by the way your clothes clung to your body—how your sundress gently swayed with each movement, exposing just enough to tease. The sight of your legs, bare and inviting, only served to fuel his obsession. His cock often grew hard and throbbing whenever he caught sight of you, straining painfully against his pants. The thought of you, so close yet so out of reach, drove him to the brink of madness.
One evening, as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, Joel found himself standing by his window, peering out at your house. His breath came in ragged gasps as he saw you stepping outside, your form illuminated by the fading light. You looked ethereal, your face soft and angelic in the warm glow. The sight of you made his cock pulse with need. He gripped the edge of the windowsill, trying to steady himself, but the pressure in his pants became almost unbearable.
He watched, nearly paralyzed with desire, as you walked to your mailbox, your hips swaying with each step. The way your dress clung to your curves made his mouth go dry. His hand instinctively moved to his aching cock, and he found himself pressing against it through his pants, trying to relieve some of the intense pressure. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of dirty fantasies—images of you, your soft lips wrapped around him, your body arching beneath him.
“Goddammit, baby” he cursed, his voice low and strained. “I need you so bad… fuckin’ want you so much…” His hand moved under his pants to his aching cock as he began to stroke himself slowly, his mind filled with filthy images of you. He imagined your soft lips on his skin, your body arching in pleasure beneath him. He imagined how you’d look at him with your pretty eyes as you took him between your soft pillowy lips. fuck.
The intensity of his desire pushed him to the edge as he whispered dirty thoughts about you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
With every stroke, he imagined you moaning his name, your body shuddering with pleasure as he took you, over and over again. Pounding into your little cunt. He could almost feel the warmth of your body against his, the way your skin would feel under his hands.
“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, eyes locked onto your unknowing frame as he stroked himself, his mind filled with filthy fantasies of you. “I bet you’d feel so good wrapped around me, fuck…”
The thought drove him to the brink, and he came with a shuddering gasp, his mind filled with the image of you—innocent and sweet, yet twisted into his darkest fantasies.
· · ─────
Later, when Joel finally mustered the courage to approach you, he was a bundle of conflicting emotions—nervousness and raw, unfiltered desire coiling tightly within him.
The encounter had been a fantasy that had played out in his mind countless times, and now it was happening in reality. Every step toward your porch felt monumental, his heart pounding with a frenetic rhythm that echoed in his ears. His palms were slick with sweat, making his grip on the porch railing shaky as he approached.
He could barely contain the tremors that coursed through his hands and legs, the anticipation making his entire body vibrate with a desperate urgency.
You were seated gracefully on your porch, a book resting lightly in your lap, your legs crossed in a demure manner that only accentuated the delicate curve of your soft thighs.
The evening light painted you in a soft, almost ethereal glow, casting shadows that highlighted the gentle curve of your silhouette. Joel couldn’t believe how one could look so… pretty.
When you looked up and saw him standing there, your eyes widened with surprise, and a radiant, innocent smile spread across your face—a sight so pure and captivating that it made Joel’s breath catch in his throat.
“Hello,” Joel managed to say, his voice coming out rough and gravelly, betraying the tumult of emotions swirling inside him.
He struggled to keep his tone steady, forcing himself to act casual despite the intense craving gnawing at his insides.
Your smile only widened further, and your eyes sparkled with a blend of curiosity and warmth.
“Oh, hi! You must be Mr. Miller. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Joel’s gaze fell to your hand as you extended it in greeting.
Immediately his thoughts slipped to your delicate fingers gripping his throbbing member while he called you his goodgirl. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt a rush of blood pool in his cock, which was now straining painfully against the confines of his pants.
Every move you made seemed to amplify his arousal, and he fought to maintain control as he forced himself to look up at your face.
The sight of you, so effortlessly charming and engaging, was overwhelming. His cock throbbed again with an urgent need that he could hardly contain, and he struggled to keep his composure as he looked at you. Do you know, what you’re doing to him?
“Call me Joel,” he said, his voice low and strained, barely above a whisper. His hands were clammy, and he had to clench them into fists to keep them from reaching out and taking you right on the floor.
You continued to speak, your voice a soft, inviting murmur that wrapped around him like a velvet glove, soothing yet igniting.
“I was just out here enjoying the evening. How are you?”
Joel’s eyes traced every movement you made, every subtle shift of your body.
The way you leaned forward slightly, the way your pretty pink lips parted in a soft, engaging smile—all of it was a tantalizing display that made his cock strain even harder.
He could feel the wetness seeping from the tip of his cock, staining the fabric of his pants, and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to discreetly adjust himself while maintaining a semblance of normal conversation.
“I’m doin’ fine,” he said, his voice barely audible.
All he could focus on was the way you looked, the way your eyes sparkled with an innocent curiosity that heightened his yearning.
His mind was consumed by a storm of lustful thoughts, barely registering the actual conversation. Do you feel this pull, too?
The more you spoke, the more his body betrayed him.
Every smile you flashed, every soft laugh that escaped your lips, was like a provocative tease that made his cock twitch with uncontrollable arousal.
His fantasies grew darker with each passing second, imagining what it would be like to press you against the wall, to feel your body writhing beneath him, to hear your moans of pleasure while he sucked your perfect clit into his mouth and doing that, and more, for hours.
The thought made him shudder with a mix of desire and frustration, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Each accidental brush of your body against his was like a jolt of electricity. You’re talking, but he only grasps half of it.
When you leaned in to grab something from the table, your soft, intoxicating scent enveloped him, making his cock nearly explode with a desperate need.
He could barely keep himself together, his thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of dirty fantasies.
You, looking up at him while sucking on his twitching balls. Licking between them and going lower-
He interrupted himself before he would go actually insane.
You laughed at something he said, and the sound of your laughter—sweet and melodic—was like a siren’s call that fueled his desire further.
He envisioned your eyes filled with innocent curiosity as you took him in. The thought made his cock leak uncontrollably, the wet stain spreading on his pants a testament to his arousal.
Look down, baby. Look what you’re doing to me. Give me a fuckin’ reason.
· · ─────
As the evening drew to a close and you finally excused yourself, Joel was left standing there, his body trembling with a mix of frustration and unfulfilled desire.
He watched you walk back inside, your silhouette framed by the warm light of your home, and the sight only deepened his obsession.
He retreated to his own house, barely able to contain the need that simmered just beneath the surface.
Later, as he lay in bed, his thoughts were consumed by you. Every moment, every touch, every word you had spoken replayed in his mind with relentless intensity.
His hand moved to his aching cock, and he began to stroke himself slowly, his mind filled with filthy images of you. He imagined your soft lips on his skin, your body arching in pleasure beneath him. The intensity of his desire pushed him to the edge as he whispered dirty thoughts about you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. My goodgirl. You’ll be such a good fuckin’ girl.
“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he groaned, each stroke of his hand sending waves of pleasure through him.
I want to feel your tight pussy wrapped around me, hear you scream my name. I need to make you mine.
With each stroke, he envisioned you moaning his name, calling out to him. Daddy, sir, master, anything - as long as it’s you.
The thought drove him to the brink, and he came with a shuddering gasp, his mind flooded with the image of you—innocent and sweet, yet twisted into his darkest fantasies.
· · ─────
Joel knew his obsession with you was consuming him, but he couldn’t stop.
Every sight, every sound, only deepened his fixation. He was trapped in a cycle of desire and denial, the more he saw of you, the more intense his obsession became.
The twisted desire that had taken root in him was growing stronger, and he knew there was no escaping the dark, perverse longing that now ruled his every thought.
“I have to have her,” Joel whispered into the darkness, the words a promise and a curse. His mind was set on claiming you, making you his in every way. The thought of finally having you, of making you his possession, consumed him completely. He was lost in his obsession, and the only thing that mattered now was the need to make you his, no matter the cost.
Soon, we’ll be together - my sweet little hummingbird.
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