Its You (JJK)

It’s you (JJK)

pairings: yan!popular boy jk x shy!fem reader.

warnings: YANDERE BEHAVIOUR, JEALOUSY, POSESSIVENESS… tox*c behaviour, reader has social an*iety… do not romanticise this behaviour! kinda soft koo!

note. From the Drabble reqs! anon I hope you enjoy! Share feedback everyone, I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense cuz I’m only studying these days so my brain is fried… 💔

GIFS ARE NOT MINE CR. TO OWNER, I found them on Pinterest!

It was something you always struggled with.

Insecurities had their own way of finding you, every single time you were with your boyfriend, jeon jungkook.

He was the most popular guy in the campus, a guy like him was every girls dream, that bunny smile was worth millions, just a smile from him and you’d see the whole room light up.

Those bambi eyes were shiny, just like the galaxy above, especially whenever he saw you.

You, his girlfriend Y/N L/N.

You were, well, average as you’d describe yourself. There was nothing special about you that should’ve stood out to Jungkook.

As you thought.

But if you ask Jungkook about you, anyone would get tired of him praising you, to him you were the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen.

You were interesting, so much that Jungkook lost his heart to you.

Not that he regretted that. Frankly speaking… you were the only person in his life that made him feel so happy.

Jungkook was head over heels in love with you, and he’d made sure that you’d see that, expensive gifts, unique perfumes, and so many different chocolates…

What not you would find in your locker every single day.

Before you began dating, you’d find various expensive gifts in your locker along with a pink envelope addressed to your name written in a sloppy handwriting.

“I wish that you would notice me…

this is for you, I hope you like it… I love you, please enjoy”

—yours forever,

J.JK.

Those intials, it didn’t take you long to know who was your secret admirer. But you didn’t care.

You didn’t want to accept his affections. After all, why would he be in love with a girl like you, unless he had an ulterior motive?

So you, crumbled that letter and threw it in the bin. Not aware of the glossy eyes watching you quietly.

A few days passed as the chocolates rotted away in your locker, you were relieved that he didn’t try again.

As time passed your suspicions only confirmed that he was only playing with you when there was no response from him. Your heart broke at that, you couldn’t lie.

But it was good in a way because you weren’t interested in someone like him…. And he couldn’t care less right?

Wrong.

Today was a good day, your only cousin had transferred here to your campus, and you were waiting for him so you could welcome him, tapping on the floor with your shoes, you hadn’t realise that a tall figure was walking towards you.

The sound of the person walking towards you caught your attention as you looked up and smiled,

He was here! Finally you won’t be a lonely loser anymore… and you’ll finally have a friend that understands you.

But it quickly faded as your eyes settled on the man infront of you. “Missed me?”

That voice… that oddly familiar voice didn’t belong to your cousin…

It was Jungkook’s.

“W-What?” Your eyes widened at his smiling face, he leaned against the locker, nibbling on his lower lip, staring at you. “Did you miss me?” He asked again.

He was playing innocent with you. You rolled your eyes at him. “No?” You replied in a dry tone, turning your face away from him, “also can you leave? You’re kinda in the middle of the way to my locker…Jeon.” You continue,

Your heart skipped a beat unknowingly,

you heard him sigh as he quickly pushed you against the locker.

“Why?!” Jungkook’s action caught you off guard as your mouth opened in shook when the locker hit your back. You saw anger flash in his eyes. “W-What is wrong with you!?!” You stuttered, still shook.

Your heart thumped inside your chest, his gaze was burning, his gaze scared you. “What is wrong with me?!?” He clicked his tongue as you saw his veins start to pop out, the people gathering around you two.

Gasps of shock left them. But none dared to interrupt. “I fucking love you! But you don’t care!” He growled, his grip on your hand tightening. “Why Y/N?!? WHY?” There was a broken look in his eyes, but you saw it disappear.

The people gasped loudly at his sudden confession, you didn’t feel surprised, but goosebumps appeared on your skin.

His voice wavered, as if he’d cry any second. “T-There’s people watching…” you could barely whisper, your social anxiety was rising.

“I DONT FUCKING CARE! W-Why don’t you love me back?!? WHY DONT YOU GIVE ME A CHANCE?!?” He cried, desperation dripped in his voice.

“I-I..” you didn’t know what to say. Seeing Jungkook like this only scared you more.

There was pure craziness going on in his eyes.

“D-Do you think there’s someone else?!! T-That I’m only playing you?!?” You watched Jungkook’s face twist into confusion as he asked you.

You didn’t reply.

“it was you, it is you, and it’ll always be you and only you. you’re stupid if you think otherwise”

Your heart only hammered against your chest more… at his words, his tone was gentle and full of love.

“S-So please Y/N give me a chance… to love you.”

He said that as his lips crashed onto yours.

you’re the best i’ve ever had. 

PAIRING.   jeon jungkook — chubby!femreader.

GENRE.  smut. angst. fluff.

WARNINGS.   NO BECAUSE I LOVE THIS JK SO MUCH 😭😭😭. established relationship. neck biting.  groping (consensual ofc). dirty talk. body shaming. negative flashbacks. yns EX friend is a bitch we absolutely HATE her. short smut scenes.  jk worshipping your literal existence. body worship. praise. jungkook is in LOVE. as he should thoo.

♫   best i ever had, drake. ❝ baby, you my everything, you all I ever wanted. we could do it real big, bigger than you ever done it. ❞

ALSO  les, childish gambino.  ❝ baby, you’re the baddest baby, you’re the baddest girl. nobody else matters nobody else matters girl. ❞

(NOT PROOF READ!)

💌  feedback is greatly appreciated!

Jungkook’s touches were so soft. So soft you almost barely even felt them. Keyword: almost. His smooth fingertips ran along your silky skin, while the tip of his pink tongue ran across the nape of your neck. Jungkook had one thing on his mind; which was pleasuring you in the best ways possible. “Baby,” Jungkook whispered in lust onto your skin. His veined hand made its way to your clothed breast, giving it a soft squeeze. He clutched at your tit one last time, before bringing his hand under your thin top, attacking your hardened nipple with his thumb, once reaching his awaited destination. “Love you,” Kiss. “So fuckin,” Your flesh was then in between his pearly white teeth, “Much.” 

Keep reading

Lay Waste to Me | One

Description: Lead theoretical physicist and Professor, Jeon Jeongguk takes an alarming interest in you.

Ship: Broke Graduate Student Reader x Wealthy Professor JK!

Genre: Yandere Behavior, Obsession/Stalking, SMUT, Angst

Disclaimer/Note: I do not condone Yandere behavior, read at your risk as this mini-series will contain murder, gore, and obsessive stalking of the reader. This is part one of a mini-series with ONLY 3-6 chapters.

wc: 7.5k

Taglist Form Here!

You

It’s 9:30 P.M., you’re deep in the evening shift, hauling platters of wings and six-pound burgers when Jeon Jeongguk sits down at one of your tables.

You almost drop your tray of cocktails.

Jeongguk cuts such a striking figure that almost everyone at the sidewalk tables stares at him. Women within a hundred-yard radius are suddenly compelled to smoothen their hair and check their lipstick. Even your boss, Jim, squints and frowns, asking the hostess if someone famous just sat down.

Jeongguk has that effortless off-duty model look. He’s tall, muscular, and elegantly dressed in clothes you know cost well over five figures. But what really tops it off is his careless arrogance. You’ve convinced yourself that if you were hit by a semi-truck going ninety on a sidewalk, he wouldn’t even notice.

He sees you long before you see him. He’s already smirking, his dark eyes glittering with malice under the dimmed light of the restaurant. He’s so stunning that it increases your distrust of him. Nobody that beautiful could be good, it’s impossible, you've seen enough movies to differentiate between good and evil.

“Bring me one of those sparkly cocktails,” he orders.

You think you hate him. A wave of anger surges inside of you at the sight of his godly face. Jeongguk’s expression doesn’t change as you turn your attention to him.

“You’re supposed to wait for the hostess to seat you,” you mutter, resisting every possible urge to not roll your eyes.

“I’m sure you can handle one more table,” Jeongguk says, looking around the surprisingly empty bar to push you just one button further.

You might as well have taken that idiotically expensive tie around his neck and strangled him with it. Instead, you tightly smile and ungraciously thrust a menu into his hands.

When you return a few minutes later with his cocktail (extra edible glitter), he says, “I want you to eat with me.”

“I can’t. I’m kind of in the middle of my shift, y’know, like my job.”

“I’ll wait.”

“No, you won't,” you snap. “You can’t sit here that long.”

“I doubt Jim will mind. Should I go ahead and ask him?”

Jim? Since when was he on a first-name basis with your boss? How did he even know Jim's name? “Look,” you hiss. “I don’t get what you’re trying to pull, giving me the grant for my research. But, you can’t buy me off that easily.”

“I’m not buying you off,” Jeongguk says, deadly black eyes fixated on yours. “I already told you what I had to say, I don’t care what you think of it.”

“Then why’d you give it to me?”

“Because your's was the best.”

His compliment hits you like a slap. He sounds completely matter-of-fact. And god, you’d like to believe it. But, you don’t trust him, not one fucking bit.

You're a third-year Ph.D. student at one of the best theoretical physics departments in the world, one that housed more than one hundred grads and what sometimes felt like an infinite amount of undergrads.

It’s been three weeks since Jeongguk— a Professor in your said department— granted your research project to be fully funded by no one other than him. Granted, you did submit your paper to his office (along with quite literally all of the other ambassadors) but that’s because you were almost certain he’d outright deny you.

Jeon Jeongguk, more infamously known as Dr. Jeon was the reason behind an abundance of late graduations; the sole culprit for half of the students in the department being forced to postpone their thesis. Not to mention, he forced your roommate, Jimin, to scrap two of his research projects and completely start from scratch—mid-semester.

You vividly remember Hyuna, Jeongguk’s assistant stopping you three weeks ago. “I have good news for you,” she said, running up to you.

“You do?”

“Yes, Dr. Jeon and his team have reviewed all of the research proposals… and you’ve been chosen for the grant!”

You stared at her, dumbfounded.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all, congratulations!” She passed you a slim envelope with your name neatly handwritten on the label. “There’s your check. You’ll accompany Dr. Jeon at his conference in one month to propose your research to a panel. I’ll email you the details for making use of his building.”

A week later, Jeongguk, showed up at your job for the first time ever, staring daggers into your direction. At the time, you hadn’t even known it was him. You assumed he was another hotshot coming in to pick up the bartender, Krystal. You nearly threw your entire tray of various drinks at him until he introduced himself.

“Finish your shift,” Jeongguk says, dismissing you. “Then we’ll talk.”

You finish your evening shift, feeling his eyes on you everywhere you turn, every move you move. Your skin burns and you fumble through tasks you usually could perform in your sleep.

He was mental. There was no reason for someone like Jeongguk to be hauled up at this run-down bar of all places. You could count six much more lavish bars that would be way more fitting for him.

“What’s with him?” Jim asks you, nodding in Jeongguk’s general direction.

“Sorry— he’s waiting to talk to me. He’s funding my research.”

“Like your Professor?” Jim questions, peeking around the corner to get a better look at Jeongguk.

“No, well yes— he is a Professor, but not mine. He funds like half of the school and somehow granted my proposal.” You toss your head, irritated that Jeongguk has invaded all aspects of your academic and now personal life.

“He looks rich as hell,” Jim snickers. “You should ask him out, Professor and his student, eh?”

“No fucking way.”

“He is rich though, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” you admit.

“Knew it.” Jim nods, wisely.

“He’s wearing Alexander Wang, you’re not exactly Anna Wilson here.”

Jim gasps fakely, placing his hand on his chest as though someone just shot him. “You better drop the attitude or he’ll never date you, missy.”

You wish you could slap Jim and Jeongguk at the same time, with both hands.

“Well, go ahead on to your Prince Charming, I’ll finish your stuff off,” Jim says.

“Thanks,” You respond, not actually grateful. You’d much rather deal with drunk-off their ass old men and frat boys for another two hours than sit and talk to Jeongguk for five minutes.

You take your apron off and plop in the seat opposite to Jeongguk.

“Listen, whatever the hell you’re trying to pull—“

You’re interrupted by Jim, who apparently has decided tonight would be the night to wait a table for the first time in a decade so he can have the pleasure of observing your annoyance up close and personal.

“Good evening!” he sings. “What can I get for this fine couple?”

Jeongguk turns to Jim with a smile of such sincerity that you could only gape at him. His entire face has transformed, suddenly animated. Even his voice softens, becoming warm and humorous. You pinch the flesh of your hand to make sure you’re not dreaming, you wince at the jolting pain reminding you that you are very much awake.

“___ was just telling me how hungry she is,” Jeongguk says. “I want to treat her to all her favorites— I’m sure you know what she likes.”

“How incredibly generous,” Jim says, eyes wide behind his spectacles.

Your hand brushes the full glass of water before you, itching to swing it directly at Jim.

“I am quite generous,” Jeongguk says, grin widening. “Thank you for noticing.”

Jim laughs. “And to think she didn’t want to spend her evening with you.”

“Is that so?” Jeongguk questions, patting your hand in a way that makes you feel murderous. “She never knows what’s good for her.”

Jim is enjoying this ordeal so much he doesn’t want to leave to punch in your order. You clear your throat several times, sending him daggers until he decides to finally get the memo.

As soon as he’s gone, you snatch your hand back from Jeongguk.

“I don’t need you,” you inform him.

Jeongguk snorts.

“The fuck you don’t. You’re broke, barely can afford to pay off your shitty apartment. You have no connections and no cash. I don't think you understand how grilling this field can be. You absolutely need my help, sweetheart.”

You wish you had a counterargument to that.

All you can do is scowl and say, “I’ve gotten quite far with what I have now.”

Jeongguk lets out a long sigh of annoyance.

“I think we both know that’s not true. Let's be honest, you're not doing so great in the real world. But now you’ve met me. In a few weeks, you’ll be joining me at my press conference. I could recommend you to the best Physicists in the world with my connections. You have no idea how many doors I could open for you, darling…”

You cross your hands over your chest. “In exchange for exactly what, Dr. Jeon?”

Jeongguk smiles. Now, this was his genuine smile— not the one he put on for Jim minutes ago. There’s nothing warm or friendly about it. In fact, it’s fucking terrifying.

“You’ll be my protégé,” he says.

“I’m sorry. What does that even mean?”

“It means we’ll get to know each other. I’ll give you my outstanding advice, mentorship. You’ll follow that advice and you’ll flourish.”

The words he’s telling you sound perfectly benign. Yet you can’t stomach the feeling that you’re about to sign a devil’s bargain with a hell of a hidden clause.

“Is there some kind of sexual implication here that I’m completely missing?” You say. “Are you the Epstein of the Physic’s world?”

Jeongguk sits back in his chair, sipping the sparkling cocktail lazily. This new position shows off his long legs and his powerful chest flexing beneath his cashmere sweater, a display that was beginning to suffocate you.

“Do I look like I need to bribe women for sex?”

“No,” you admit.

Half of your roommates and colleagues would fuck Jeongguk in a heartbeat. Actually, all of them would, except maybe Seokjin.

You bite the edge of your thumbnail, considering it.

“Don’t bite your nails,” Jeonnguk snaps. “It’s disgusting.”

You bite the nail harder, scowling at him.

He’s going to be bossy and controlling, you can already tell. Is that what he wants? A puppet dancing on his strings?

“Can I see your lab?” You ask.

It was an audacious request. Jeon Jeongguk doesn’t show his lab to anyone. Especially not when he’s in the middle of conducting experiments to solve yet another world-renowned theory. You have no right to ask— but you have just the strangest sense that he might agree.

“Already making demands?” Jeongguk says. He stirs his straw through his ice with a cold clicking sound.

“Surely a protégé gets to see their master at work,” you test.

Jeongguk smiles. He likes being called “master.” Sick fuck.

“I’ll consider it,” he says. “Now…” he leans forward on the table, steepling his tattooed, tan hands in front of you. “We’re going to talk about you.”

Is he serious? This happens to be your least favorite topic.

“What do you want to know?”

He looks at you hungrily. “Everything.”

You swallow hard. “I’ve always had a passion for Physics. I lived out in Arizona for a while, until Princeton accepted me for my Ph.D.”

“What about your family?”

Come to think of it, that tops the cake for your least favorite topic.

You put your hands down on your lap so you don’t start chewing your nails again.

“I don’t have any family,” you say.

“Everyone has a family.”

“Not me.” You glare at him, lips pressed together, stubborn.

“Where’s the alcoholic father?” Jeongguk says.

To you, the conversation at his office was a blur of shouted accusations and utter confusion. Jeongguk apparently remembers every word, including the part you blurted out and now fervently regret.

“He's still in Arizona,” you reluctantly mutter.

“What about the stepmother?”

“As far as I know, she lives in California. I haven’t talked to either of them in years.”

“Why?”

Your heart is hammering and you feel that sick, squirming sensation in your stomach that always arises when you’re forced to think about your father. You like to keep her trapped behind a locked door in your brain. He’s emotional cancer—if you let him out, he’ll infect every part of you.

So what if you had daddy issues?

“He’s the worst person I’ve ever met,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “And that includes my stepmother. I ran away the day I turned eighteen.”

“Where’s your actual mother?”

“Dead.”

“So is mine,” Jeongguk says. “I find it’s better that way.”

You look at him sharply, wondering if that’s supposed to be a joke.

“I loved my mother,” you say coldly. “The day I lost her was the worst day of my life.”

Jeongguk smiles. “The worst day so far.”

What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Him.

“So Mommy died, leaving you alone with Daddy dearest and not a penny between you,” Jeongguk prods you, wrinkling his nose as he can still smell those awful years on your skin.

“There are worse things than being poor,” you inform him.

“Enlighten me, then,” Jeongguk says, one dark eyebrow raised.

“No,” you say flatly. “I’m not your evening entertainment.”

“Why must you make everything so difficult?” he says. “Have you ever tried cooperating?”

You laugh. “In my experience, when men say ‘cooperative’, they mean ‘obedient’.”

He grins, leaning closer. “Then, have you ever tried being obedient?”

“No.” You lie.

You have tried it. And all you learned from it is that no amount of submission is ever good enough for a man. You can rollover like a dog, beg for mercy, apologize profusely and they’ll keep beating you.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes rove over to your face, giving you an uncomfortable sensation that he can see through every thought you try tirelessly to keep hidden.

Thankfully, you’re saved by Jim depositing several familiar platters of steaming food in front of you two.

Only after Jim leaves you does Jeongguk examine the food with his usual critical glare.

“What is this?” he demands.

“That’s the bacon sampler platter,” you say, nodding toward four marinated strips of premium pork belly labeled with a fancy script like each is a guest at a wedding.

Jeongguk frowns. “It looks . . . intense.”

“It’s the best thing you’ll ever put in your mouth. Look,” you cut off a bite of the rosemary balsamic bacon. “Try this one first.”

Jeongguk takes a bite. He chews slowly, his expression melting from skepticism into genuine surprise.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“I told you—try this one now. Brown sugar cinnamon.”

He takes a bite of the second strip, eyebrows rising and an unwilling smile tugging at his mouth.

“This is so good.”

“I know,” you snap. “That’s why I work here. It’s the literal best food in the city.”

“Is that really why you work here?” Jeongguk asks, watching you closely.

“Yes. The smell of food—I can’t stand it if it’s not good. The food here smells incredible because it is incredible. Here, try this now—take a sip of the cocktail, then eat one of the spicy-sweet potatoes.”

Jeongguk does exactly what you said, taking a small sip of his drink, then quickly biting into the potato.

“What the fuck,” he says. “Why is that so good?”

“I dunno.” you shrug. “Something about the sour citrus and then the pop of salt. They amplify each other.”

Jeongguk is watching you as you eat your own food, taking a small bite of one thing and then another, cycling through your favorite combinations.

“Is that how you eat?” he says.

You shrug. “Unless I’m in a hurry.”

“Show me more combinations.”

You show him all your favorite ways to eat the magnificent brunch spread Jim laid before you both—lemon curd layered with fresh strawberries and clotted cream on the scones, blueberries between bites of maple bacon, a dash of hot sauce mixed in with the hollandaise . . .

Jeongguk tries it all with an unusual level of curiosity. You’d assume somebody as rich as him has eaten at a million fancy restaurants.

“Don’t you eat out all the time?” You ask him.

He shakes his head. “I don’t spend much time on food. It bores me.”

“But you like this?”

“I do,” he says, almost as if he hates to admit it. “How do you come up with all this?”

You shrug. “I never tried most foods until I started working at restaurants. I’d never tasted steak, cilantro, or avocado. I wanted to try everything—it was like discovering a whole new sense.”

“But there was a time when you weren’t poor,” Jeongguk says, harrying that point like a dog with a bone. He’s really not gonna fucking drop it.

“Yes,” you say testily. “When we lived with Melissa.”

“That’s your stepmother.”

“Yes.”

“What did you eat then?”

“Not fucking much. She used to scream at me if my spoon clinked in my cereal bowl.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven.”

Jeongguk’s relentless . . . and hypnotic, the way he fixes you with those deep, dark eyes, never looking away for a moment. The way he absorbs everything you say with none of the usual displays of sympathy or irritating commiseration. He just soaks it in and demands more, like he plans to drill down to the core of you, strip-mining your soul.

He insisted on paying for the meal, leaving an extra hundred-dollar bill as a tip for Jim— something you’ll never hear the end of.

You can already see how he uses his money to manipulate people—including me. You cashed that seven-thousand-dollar check because I had to. You were not only late on rent but you owed Jimin somewhere around four hundred dollars for spotting you the past two months.

Jeongguk knows exactly how much leverage he has over you, and he isn’t shy about leaning on the lever.

And yet, despite the fact that he’s clearly callous and manipulative, you still find yourself walking with strange lightness down the campus streets to your sparkling new lab in his building.

Maybe because he wasn’t trying to make you feel better. In fact, it’s the first time you’ve ever mentioned this topic without hearing the words, “But it’s your dad . . .”

Jeongguk offered no sympathy. He also offered no excuses. No fucking platitudes. No lies.

You spend the afternoon working on studying light. You’ve never felt such confidence in your work. You bend over the display of water and turn on the main lamp above it, you then take the wooden dowel to your left and make indentations in the water.

The idea is already there, inside the depths of your brain. Perfect and whole—all it needs is to be unveiled.

You spot something in the reflection that you hadn’t noticed before: a camera mounted above the door, pointed into the lab. You frown, turning your face away from the lens.

Why the hell is there a camera in here?

Is it recording all the time?

Something in the back of your brain tells you yes, it most definitely does.

You suddenly feel self-conscious, replaying your behavior all afternoon. Did you talk to yourself? Scratch your ass? Pick your nose?

You’re suddenly paranoid that Jeon Jeongguk is watching you.

He unnerves you, and you don’t fucking trust him. Your talk at the bar didn’t help to ease what his intentions were. Sure, he said that you’d be his protege. But, when a man takes a special interest in you, it’s never good.

As your leaving, you stop at the cafe on the ground level, treating yourself to one of the iced lattes Hyuna promised were so good. She’s not wrong—the coffee is rich and perfectly prepared.

Hyuna herself comes through the front doors as I’m leaving.

You kind of wish she hadn’t caught sight of you, since she’s dressed in a stylish scarlet pantsuit, her hair freshly blown out and her lipstick immaculate. Whereas you look like you spent the night riding around in the back of a garbage truck.

“Oh, ___!” she says, “You’re here early.”

“Hey,” you say nervously. “Just leaving, actually. I came in extra early—I hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” She smiles. “That’s why you have twenty-four-hour access.”

“Yeah . . .” you say. “Actually I was curious . . . I noticed a camera in the lab. Right above the door.”

“Oh, yes,” she says. “All the studios have them. It’s for security purposes only—we’ve had issues with theft in the past. Don’t worry, no one has access to the feed. It would only be reviewed in cases where an incident has occurred.”

“Sure.” you nod.

You don’t believe a word she’s saying. Jeongguk owns this building, and those cameras are there for a reason.

A week after granting your proposal | Jeongguk

Jeongguk takes his stalking of you online.

Like most people, you’ve splashed your life all over social media for anyone to see—both on your own accounts, and your friends.

You and your friends are a smart bunch, so the photos you share are less eclectic than average. Jeongguk has to wade through any number of sepia-toned lab photos, aesthetic campus photos, and landscape shots to find something useful. Once he does, he finds endless portraits of you.

He spends a long time examining your face. You’re an interesting conundrum. Vulnerable yet fierce. Damaged yet stubborn.

You do not make personal posts—no long, rambling dissertations on your inner feelings under a mirror selfie, and no vague captions intended to elicit a flood of comments begging for more details.

Jeongguk’s already decided that you and he will inevitably cross paths—the Physic’s world is too small to avoid it.

He intends to choose the time and location of that meeting. He’ll control all the elements, arranging the players like pieces on a chessboard.

It’s unlike him to fixate on a woman like this. Jeongguk finds most people horrifically boring. He’s never met anyone as intelligent as him, or as talented. Other people are weak and emotional—slaves to their impulses. Constantly making promises they can’t keep, even to themselves.

Only Jeongguk seems to have the power to control his own fate.

Whatever he wants to happen, happens. He makes it so by his own cunning, his determination.

Everyone else is a victim of chance and circumstance. To arbitrary rules set up by people who died a hundred years ago. To their own pathetic ineptitude.

He does what he wants. He gets what he wants. Always. Every time.

If there’s a god of this world, it’s Jeongguk.

But even Zeus found mortals interesting from time to time.

He desires to see you again, to speak to you. Jeongguk wants to manipulate you and see how you react.

And if Jeongguk wants something . . . that means it’s good.

Jeongguk breaks into your room later that afternoon.

You’re working at that sleazy shit bar, something that usually takes you until 10:00 P.M.

It’s almost impossible to find a point in the day where none of your roommates are home, so Jeongguk doesn’t bother waiting. The apartment is so crowded, with so many people coming and going, he doubts that any of them will notice a few extra creaks from a room that ought to be empty.

It helps that your room is on the topmost floor. It’s easy to scale the trellis of the neighboring house, drop down onto your deck, and force open the flimsy lock on the glass door.

The attic room is certainly not to code. The ceiling is so low that he can’t stand upright, even in the center of the peaked space. Your bed is a futon mattress on the floor, your clothes folded in plastic milk crates because you have no closet or dresser.

This is the sort of cramped, chaotic space that usually disgusts him. The dusty air and stacks of battered secondhand Physics books next to the bed—no bookshelf to hold them—reek of poverty.

Curiosity staves off his repulsion. He’s drawn to the obviously used cover of his very own book. It’s his research paper from when he was a Ph.D. Student, “Fundamentals of Physics” laid prettily in your room.

He smiles to himself.

Of course, you had good— no, great taste.

He sets the book down.

He can smell your perfume on the sheets, stronger than when he followed you a week prior.

Jeongguk lays down in your bed, his head on your pillow. He turns his face so his nose is pressed against your crumpled sheets and he inhales.

Your scent is layered and complex. Warm notes of vanilla, caramel. A botanical scent—mandarin, or maybe black currant. Then something exotic, spiced—perhaps a jasmine soap. Under that, the light scent of your sweat arouses him far more than any of the others. Jeongguk’s cock swells until it’s no longer comfortable within his trousers.

He enjoys the trespass of laying in your bed. Knowing that you may catch a hint of his cologne lingering there tonight. It may confuse or frighten you. Or arouse you, if his chemical composition calls to you as yours does to him.

The idea of your heart beating fast, of you startling awake, searching your room for evidence that someone else was here, amuses him.

Deliberately, he rearranges the order of the books next to the bed making sure to put his on the very top.

Then he looks through your clothes.

You wear cheap nylon underwear, thin and transparent, in shades of black, gray, and purple. How colorful.

Most of your clothes are dirty, stuffed in a drawstring bag to be hauled down to the laundromat.

A single pair of black briefs lies abandoned next to the bed. Jeongguk assumes this is the underwear you shucked off this morning.

Lifting it to his face, Jeongguk inhales the scent of your warm morning pussy.

It’s similar to the smell of your sheets but musky.

His cock is raging now. Jeongguk unzips his pants, allowing his thick dick to spring free. He strokes it gently while he breathes in the scent of your cunt. He even puts out his tongue and tastes the cotton strip that is nestled between your pussy lips.

He remembers the picture of you laying on the ground from two weeks ago, tightly bound, arms behind your back and breasts thrust forward. Your knees pulled back, your bare pussy exposed. He could have shoved his cock in you.

If he had smelled this scent, he would have done it.

Jeongguk’s never experienced anything like it. It’s addicting. The longer he spent in your room with your sheets, your half-empty shitty perfume bottle, your dirty laundry, the more it fills his lungs, surges through his blood.

The more he wants it. Fresh from the source.

Jeongguk’s jerking his cock harder, taking deep breaths.

He imagines you tied down, this time on your back with your legs pulled apart. He imagines burying his face in you, thrusting his tongue all the way inside you while you thrash against the ropes.

His balls are boiling, his cock throbbing with every heartbeat.

Jeongguk wraps the panties around the head of his cock and he thrusts into them, right against the crotch. His cock erupts, pouring cum into your underwear.

He uses your panties to catch every last drop, squeezing them around the head.

That skimpy black fabric feels better around Jeongguk’s cock than any actual pussy he’s ever fucked. Maybe it’s the novelty, or maybe it’s the way your scent still clings to his fingers, lingering in his lungs.

It’s not enough. The orgasm was rapid, powerful as a rifle shot. Jeongguk’s not satisfied.

He wants to watch you in this space. Want to see how you walk around your room, how you undress, how you behave when you think you’re alone.

Jeongguk looks out your window.

The adjoining row houses offer no line of sight into your room. But the house behind hers—the tall Georgian with the black shutters—offers a perfect view from its own attic space.

You have no curtains on your windows. You’re so high up, you feel as safe as a crow in its nest.

Crows forget about hawks.

Jeongguk drops the panties back on the floor where he found them.

Then he leaves the way he came, already planning to call his estate agent.

You

By the time you get from your night shift, you’re already late for your meeting with Minho.

He’s good-looking, decent at sex, and better at conversation, though he has a tendency to get preachy. He’s judgmental as fuck about you bartending at Hybe because he says half the regulars are alcoholics and you’re fueling their addiction. Never mind that you met him at Hybe, and he’s hardly a teetotaler.

You hurry into the house, knowing Minho will be annoyed if you’re late again.

Seokjin passes you on the stairs, likewise hurrying to a date with his long-term boyfriend Taehyung, as you jog up the three flights to your attic room.

“You look gorgeous!” You tell him.

“You too!” he lies.

You laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m about to change.”

You strip off your clothes, sweaty from skating around the park with the dogs. Even though you’re well into October and the sky was cloudy, it was close to eighty degrees, muggy and humid.

You consider rinsing off in the shower, but you don’t really have time. Instead, you pull a black mini dress out of the closet, along with pair of thigh-high boots.

Shimmying into the dress, you look around for some clean underwear. It’s been two weeks since you hauled your clothes down to the laundromat, and you’re in short supply.

Desperate and late, you snatch up the panties off the floor, pulling them on.

“What the fuck,” you mutter, as wetness presses against your pussy lips.

Hooking your thumbs on either side of the briefs, you lower them to knee level.

You examine the crotch of the underwear, trying to figure out if you got your period without noticing. It’s hard to tell on the black material.

Stepping out of the panties, you rub your thumb across the strip of cotton sewn into the crotch. It feels distinctly slippery. Raising your fingers to your face, you smell a faint bleachy scent.

You drop the panties on the floor, heart racing.

You know what cum smells like.

Don’t be ridiculous, you tell yourself. You’ve lived in this house for two years. Nobody comes up here.

Three of your roommates are male, and all three of them are gay.

It’s possible some asshole could have come up here and poked around your stuff. You sweep the room, wondering if you would notice if anything had been moved.

Your copy of “Fundamentals of Physics” by Jeongguk is still right next to the bed, open to the same spot as before.

Other than that . . . how the fuck would you know if someone had been in here?

Your heart hammers against your sternum, your hands trembling as you set down the theory once more.

You’re being paranoid. So your underwear was wet. It’s probably just . . . you know, discharge or some shit.

You don’t want to be this person. Jumping at shadows and thinking everybody is out to get you.

You can’t live like this, terrified and paranoid.

You take several deep breaths, trying to slow your racing heart. You look at your new phone, bought with a credit card.

10:14.

You’re really fucking late.

Snatching up your purse once more, you leave the underwear on the floor and hurry out of the room commando. No underwear is probably better than dirty underwear anyway.

Jeongguk

Jeongguk had a dinner for the Theoretical Physicist Embassy he was supposed to attend, but he skipped it in favor of further reconnaissance.

He found the house directly behind yours listed on Airbnb for eight hundred dollars a night. After messaging the owner, Jeongguk convinced him to cancel his next three bookings so he could take the place for a month, starting immediately.

So intense was his desire to spy on you that he probably would have bought the damn thing.

Jeongguk drove over to the townhouse early in the evening, parking his Tesla at the curb.

The three-story Georgian wasn’t nearly as nice as his own house, but it’s ten times more habitable than yours. The pale oak floors look freshly polished, and the host left a bowl of foil-wrapped chocolates on the kitchen island, as well as stocking the fridge with bottled water.

As long as the house is clean, Jeongguk doesn’t give a fuck about anything else. Strike that—it’s the view he cares about.

He climbs the creaking stairs to the third floor, which includes an office, a small library, and a sitting room.

The library window is the one that looks across the back garden to your house. The beveled glass offers a watery view into the protected alcove of your balcony.

You could be forgiven for thinking that you have complete privacy in that space. The library window is small, set high up on the wall, divided into a dozen diamond panes.

Jeongguk cuts out the entire window with his glass cutters. Then he covers the space with black paper, leaving only a hole for his telescope.

From a distance, it will look like nothing more than a dark window into an empty room.

His efforts are rewarded when you rush into your bedroom only twenty minutes later before he’s completed his preparations.

You rush everywhere you go, running from job to job, always late.

He respects the hustle, but your existence is tawdry and depressing. The thought of waiting tables, taking people’s orders, and serving their food is offensive to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk’s interest in this hectic, desperate girl baffles him.

His desires have never been mysterious to him. In fact, they’ve always felt rational and natural.

Jardin—his mentor— irritated him, so Jeongguk removed him from his sphere. He put his bones inside the sculpture in his apartment as his own private joke.

This is the first time in Jeongguk’s life that he’s desired something without understanding why.

Out of all the thousands of women, he’s encountered, how did you catch his attention like a hook through the gills of a fish?

Jeongguk noticed you the very first moment he saw you when you spilled wine on your dress. You hardly even flinched—just marched into the bathroom, emerging with that makeshift tie-dye that was creative and beautiful.

You had Jeongguk wondering what it would take to break you. To shatter you into so many pieces that you could never put them together again.

The view through the telescope is so clear that he could almost be standing in the room with you.

He watches you strip off your clothes, revealing a lean, taut body with average breasts and wide hips. He’s intrigued to see that you haven’t removed the piercings from your nipples—the twin silver rings remain in place.

As you hunt for clothes, a cold bead of excitement runs down Jeongguk’s spine. He already knows you have no clean underwear.

Sure enough, you spot the discarded panties on the floor. Jeongguk’s heart stops and he can hardly breathe, riveted in place, eye to the telescope, watching . . .

You pick up the underwear and step into it.

Blood rushes to Jeongguk’s cock so fast that he’s lightheaded.

You’re wearing panties soaked in his cum without knowing it. The most intimate part of him pressed up against the most intimate part of you.

You hesitate, standing still in the center of the room.

You’re feeling the wetness of his cum against your cunt.

Jeongguk’s cock is so hard it tents out the front of his trousers.

He loves the thought of his cum on your bare flesh. How long does sperm survive? He wonders if those desperate, minuscule swimmers are trying to wriggle inside you right now.

You yank down the underwear, examining the material.

Jeongguk watches the panic and confusion on your face, his cock harder than it’s ever been.

You touch his cum. Smell it. Then rips off the underwear and flings it away from you.

His whole body is warm and throbbing. Jeongguk can’t remember when he last felt this level of excitement. He’s been so fucking bored lately. Nothing impresses him. Nothing interested him. Until now . . .

Tormenting you without even touching you is so stimulating that Jeongguk can hardly imagine what it would be like to put his hands directly on your flesh . . . to circle them around your throat . . .

You shift your weight back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

You’re wondering if you felt what you think you felt.

You don’t trust yourself.

Finally, you snatch up your purse and exit the room.

Jeongguk’s already heading down the stairs. You’re not dressed for work—he wants to see where you’re going.

A date, he suspects.

At the thought, Jeongguk’s pupils contract, his throat tightens, his heart slows. He’s cold and focused.

Who do you date? Who do you fuck?

He wants to know.

He exits the townhouse, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He cut across 96th Street, catching sight of you walking ahead in your tight black dress and thigh-high boots. You don’t wear heels often. Jeongguk like how it hobbles you, slowing your pace.

It’s easy for him to track you, walking along the opposite side of the street like a disconnected shadow. Jeongguk follows you to a trendy little restaurant a few blocks away, where you meet some scruffy-faced hipster in a too-tight t-shirt.

Unlike you and your date, Jeongguk doesn’t have a reservation. A hundred-dollar bill pressed into the hostess’s palm solves that problem. He probably could have convinced her just by holding her gaze and letting his fingers trail across her wrist. The hostess giggles and blushes as she heads him to a table he requested, tucked away in a corner.

Jeongguk has no problem attracting women. In fact, it’s too easy. The wealth, the fame, and the looks suck them in before he says a word. There’s no challenge.

He wonders if you will fall at his feet as easily as that hostess.

You don’t seem particularly enthralled with your date. In fact, you twitch irritably as he rests his arm across the back of your chair.

Your date yammers on about something, oblivious to your expression of boredom. He doesn’t seem to notice how you angle your body away from him, only rarely meeting his eye. When he tries to tidy your hair, you jolt away from him.

Jeongguk feels a strange sense of satisfaction in your rejection of this buffoon. It would have lessened you in his eyes if you were besotted with someone so . . . pedestrian.

His pleasure evaporates as your date reaches under the table to fondle your pussy.

In its place: a sharp spike of fury.

Jeongguk wants to rip that hand off his arm, leaving a ragged stump with a bare glint of bone.

Even in Jeongguk’s most extreme moments, when he’s slit the throat of someone he hated and watched their blood run down his arm, his heart rate barely rose.

The feeling of that lump of muscle pounding in Jeongguk’s chest is something new to him—something that makes him sit back in his chair, breathing hard, hands clenched into fists on his lap.

What the fuck is happening.

He almost feels. . . jealous.

He’s never been jealous before. Why would he? No one on this planet has anything he envies.

Yet he’s already decided, with absolute certainty, that no one should be touching that sweet little cunt except him.

He’s smelled your scent on his fingers.

He wants it fresh from the source.

As if obeying his command, you jump up from the table, shoving back your chair. Jeongguk hears your hasty apologies as you throw cash by your plate. Then you leave, abandoning your disgruntled date before you’ve even ordered your entrées.

Lucky for him—Jeongguk was already planning how he’d cut off his balls with a box cutter.

Luckily for hipster boy, he's saved by the expedient of Jeongguk's urge to follow you instead. He's left his own folded bills tucked under his unused fork.

The sky is fully dark, thick with clouds. The wind is colder than before.

He walks back to 96th Street, feeling a curious elation at the prospect of watching you alone in your room.

Jeongguk likes you best in your private space. It’s a look inside your mind—your comforts and preferences.

Settling himself behind the telescope once more, he sees you pacing your room. You are a skittish horse. When you’re calm, you move with grace. But when you’re frustrated or uncomfortable—and you were certainly both in the company of your incompetent date—you become stiff and withdrawn, hypersensitive to irritants.

You haul your mattress out on the small deck attached to your room.

This is all the better for him. He can see you as clearly as a figure in a diorama.

You lay down on the futon, a pair of headphones over your ears. It takes a long time for your breathing to slow, for you to settle deeply into the mattress. Your lips move in time with the lyrics of the song.

You’re so still now that Jeongguk wonders if you fell asleep. Your chest rises and falls with metronome regularity.

The breeze whispers through the hedges in the garden between him and you. It slides across your skin, making you shiver. Your nipples are hard, visible even through the black dress.

Jeongguk hears the soft rumble of thunder.

A few scattered raindrops hit the black paper covering the library window.

You stir, feeling the rain on your skin.

He expects you to rise, to pull your mattress back inside.

But you seem determined to surprise him at every turn.

You sit up. Lift your palm. Feels the rain pattering down.

Then you pull your dress over your head and toss it aside.

You lay down on the mattress once more, fully nude.

Jeongguk lets out a soft sigh, his eye pressed against the telescope.

Thunder rolls and the rain falls harder. It shatters all across your naked skin: on your thighs, your stomach, your bare breasts, your upturned palms, your closed eyelids. It falls in your partly opened mouth.

You’re soaking it in. Feeling the delicious coolness and the tiny impact of each droplet breaking on your skin.

Your expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure. Fully relaxed for the first time since Jeongguk has been watching you.

Again he feels that strange, squirming feeling in his guts.

Jealousy.

The rain falls harder, soaking your hair, drenching the mattress, chilling your skin.

You don’t give a fuck.

You reach between your thighs. You begin to stroke your fingers back and forth across your pussy lips. Touching yourself lightly, delicately.

Your lips part wider, allowing more rain into your mouth.

The rain beats against the side of the house. A bolt of lightning sizzles across the sky, illuminating your shining body like a camera flash. Every detail stands out in sharp relief: the long column of your throat, the divot of your collarbone, the points of your nipples, the long, flat expanse of your abdomen, the delicate bones of your hands, the slender fingers slipping inside of yourself.

Jeongguk’s never seen anything so beautiful.

Your bronze as a statue in the purplish light. If he could sculpt you exactly like this, it would be his greatest work.

He wants to pour molten metal over your, freezing you in time forever.

Jeongguk puts his own hand down the front of his pants, feeling the thick rod of his cock, painfully hard.

His skin feels feverish.

He wants to be out where you are, drenched in rain, touching that cold flesh . . .

Jeongguk pumps his cock in time with the motion of your hand.

Your pace quickens, back-arching, head thrown back.

He fucks his hand harder and harder, imagining he’s about to explode over your body, hot cum raining down on you harder than the storm.

Your eyes squeeze tightly shut, your cries drowned out by the rain. Your thighs clamp around your hand, your body shaking.

Jeongguk’s cumming for the second time today, a hot flood that pours over the back of his hand, dripping down onto the floorboards.

He can’t tear his eyes from the telescope.

He can’t stop looking at you for a single second.

The Devil Wears a Suit? Masterlist

Summary: When you land a job that was deemed unattainable, the shock is bewildering. The nightmare that ensues, however, is unimaginable. Follow as you try to keep up with the grueling and demanding job of being Jeon Jeongguk’s, the world’s most powerful magazine editor, personal assistant.

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader, Editorial!Jeongguk, PersonalAssistant!Reader

Notes: Smut will be in future chapters, this will be an agonizing SLOW BURN. P.S. Also writing a Taekook version of this on ao3!

Summary: Good-luck, bitch.

wc: 3.2k

Read here.

Summary: First week at Jeon Publication’s: who knew someone halfway across the globe could continuously ruin your day?

wc: 3.9k

Read here.

Summary: Jeongguk goes out of his way to deliberately make your life your own personal hell.

wc: 5.7k

Read here.

Summary: You finally drop the Book off, and things don't go as swimmingly as you had imagined them to.

wc: 4.4k

Read here.

Taglist: @rjsmochii @hopeworldd-2 @haniiii @gcfsjimin @jungjoonie @eschatonenigma @just-another-keysmash @effielumiere @softforpj @kokoandkookie @sweetcheeksdna @mageprincess7 @muqs-amer @phasedkth @ggukkieland @dimcorner @taechvita @yourwonderbelle

Go ahead and try to take me

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (non idol au).

Wordcount: 3.1k of pure filth.

Summary: when the guy on the room next to yours has been blasting music for the last hours, you decide it's time to take matters into your own hands.

TW: smut, protected sex (remember to be safe out there y'all), fingering and oral sex (f. receiving), rough sex, Jungkook is kind of a douchebag but he's also sweet. Also, use of the petname 'sweetheart' a lot, and I mean A LOT.

A/N: soooo I have nothing to say except this is a consequence of his last vlive. He just destroyed me, so obviusly I had to do something about it. (x_x) I think this is the first time I write such a long fic involving smut, so please let me know if there are any mistaked or if I missed a trigger warning. Also, I did leave some hints for a possible part 2, so if you are interested please let me know!! :’)) As always my requests are open and I hope you enjoy whatever this is. Love youuuu <333

Your own effusive knocks resonated across the hallway and you knew it was too late to knock like this on someone’s door this late —specially while being at a hotel, where no one knew each other — but in your defense, whoever was at the other side of the room should know that it was also too late to play music this loud. You were mad, yes, and maybe it also did have to do with the fact that you didn’t want to come to this work trip in the first place, even though you didn’t have much option. And maybe you were to leash out your anger on a poor person that just came to Las Vegas to have a great vacation because you couldn’t actually complain to your boss. But it was already too much to have to attend all those meetings and put on a fake smile for a whole day, you needed your sweet sleep at least. Besides, it was just basic respect, not having the music too loud. It wasn’t asking that fucking much.

‘Yeah? Oh wow, hello sweetheart,’ the guy actually had the indecency of checking you out shamelessly, his eyes scanning your figure. It was now that what you were wearing probably wasn’t helping the situation, just some pajamas shorts and a strap top. You felt almost naked under his stare, and his appearance was doing something to your belly. His t-shirt revealed his sleeve tattoo and although you couldn’t see all of it you supposed it went at least to his shoulder. However, you could sense his muscles, deliciously filling in the black t-shirt. He was quite taller than you and his dark hair was a little messy. Was that a lip ring? Shit, he looked exactly like someone who would have his music too loud in a hotel room. And you couldn’t help the jolt he gave to your pussy. ‘Need something?’ He smirked at you. Okay, so maybe you had been staring for too long, but you were still mad.

‘Actually yeah. Your music is too loud,’ you said, crossing your arms.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ he simply answered. Oh, how you wanted to get that smirk out of his face.

‘What? It is. You have to lower the volume. Or better, turn it off,’ you complained again.

‘I’ve been playing music all evening at the same volume and no one has come to complain. So no, I’m not turning it down,’ he argued.

‘What kind of argument is that? I don’t care no one has come. I’m here now, complaining. So lower the volume.'

‘Uh-uh. You want to lower the volume? Do it yourself, sweetheart,’ he said, stepping aside, an invitation to come inside his room.

Going inside you had to say that it was surprisingly clean, no beer cans or scattered clothes everywhere. You stretched your neck, focusing your eyes on the beautiful images of a galaxy slowly moving across the ceiling. Suddenly, you understood the music. You could feel yourself relaxing just by looking at the sparkling stars and getting lost in lyrics that seemed written for you. He had set the perfect mood, you had to give him that. But you couldn’t relax. Tomorrow endless meetings awaited you, and you needed to sleep. You started looking around the small room, looking for a laptop, a Bluetooth speaker or his phone, but no device came in sight. Where was the music coming from? You continued looking around, trying your hardest to not look at the boy, who you knew was against the wall, looking at you with his arms crossed. You could feel his stare on your form and you cursed him mentally for putting you in such a position. Who the fuck makes a stranger come into their room to turn off the music? This whole situation would be absolutely ridiculous if he wasn’t so damn hot.

You were growing tired and embarrassed. How much more could you pace around the room without even knowing what are you looking for?

‘Looking for this? Go ahead and try to take me,’ challenged the dark haired boy. You turned around, your gaze falling to his tattooed hand, which was holding a small remote. Asshole. Approaching him, you tried to grab the remote from his hold, thinking that he had decided to give in. How naive of you. An exasperated growl left your mouth when you saw him raising his arm above his head, as if you were some kind of little girl. Even though there wasn’t much light in the room you could see the mischievous spark in his eyes.

‘I’m not about to play this game with—’ You felt his lips against yours, his lip ring felt foreign to you —not that his mouth was known to you either— but it still sent a rush of wetness to your core. He was kissing you roughly, tracing your lips with his tongue, demanding entrance almost immediately. You felt him explore your mouth, instantly asserting his dominance and you could feel your legs wobbling and your cheeks heating up, because this was nowhere near to be your first kiss, but no one had kissed you liked this before. He squeezed your ass with one of his hands, the other one still holding the remote.

‘Jump,’ he whispered, however his tone made it clear that it was an order. Against all odds, you followed his command. Maybe this is actually what you needed to make this trip a little less horrible.

The man placed his hands under your ass and made you bounce once, assuring that his hands were in place. You could feel his growing erection brush against your lower tummy, earning a whiny moan from you. He started moving towards somewhere, but you continued kissing so you crossed your hands behind his neck, grabbing him tightly as to prevent any possible fall.

‘Relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you,’ he said after breaking the kiss. You tried to catch your breath in those few seconds, already desperate for more from him. You pulled him close again, trying to resume the kiss. Instead, he started leaving a trail of kisses from behind your ear to the base of your neck. You were about to groan in annoyance when he found your sweet spot, making you moan in pleasure.

‘Jungkook,’ said he out of nowhere. You looked at him confused.

‘What?’

‘Trust me, you’ll need to know my name,’ he answered with a huge smirk across his face. Then you felt him leaning and your back made contact with the soft surface of the hotel bed. The coldness of the sheets made goosebumps erupt on your skin, which you could now feel how hot it was. You felt the bed dip at your feet, and then Jungkook’s lips were back on yours.

Since you didn’t have to hold onto him in this new position you took out his t-shirt and threw it somewhere across the room. You started shamelessly scanning his chiseled chest. You were right, he had a full tattoo sleeve up to his shoulder. Fuck, the mere image of him was making you clench around nothing.

‘Not so bitchy now, huh?’ He asked, enjoying your obvious admiration for his body. But you could feel his tummy tighten as soon as you started tracing his pecs and eight-pack with your nails, carefully tracing the outlines of his muscles.

‘Fuck you,’ you whispered, still adoring the sight in front of you.

‘I mean, I’m up for it if you are,’ this was it. He was asking for your consent, better think about the consequences of fucking with a stranger in a hotel room right now. You didn’t do much thinking, though.

‘Yeah,’ you simply answered.

‘Yes what?’

‘You know what.’

‘Want to hear from you, sweetheart,’

‘Yes, I’m up for it. I want you to fuck me dumb!’ you finally admitted, trying to ignore the humiliation you started to feel. Jungkook didn’t need any more confirmation, so he instantly took off your top, throwing it somewhere along with his previously discarded t-shirt. His hands cupped your boobs, and slightly squeezed them, making you arch your back into his grasp.

‘Fuck, you have amazing tits,’ he complimented, before latching his mouth to your right boob, sucking on your nipple. His comment had made you want to roll your eyes, but you could only moan at his movements. After giving the same attention to your left breast and making sure both your nipples were hard he cupped both of them, squeezing them together.

‘Wish I could have my cock between these beauties,’ he confessed, and you felt a rush of wetness spread across your underwear, ‘ but let’s leave that for next time, yeah?’ His words couldn’t even register in your head, before you felt his sinful lips on your skin again, this time leaving a trail of wet kisses along your belly. His hands started playing with the elastic of your shorts, slowly taking them off. You started moving your legs, trying to speed his actions.

‘Patience, sweetheart,’ he teased, throwing your shorts somewhere. Then, he caressed your legs, forcing you to open them. You broke eye contact, which you had been keeping until that moment, because you didn’t want to see the smirk on his face when he saw the wet stain on your cotton panties.

‘Look at you, already so wet for me,’ he pointed out, much to your dismay. He traced the outline of the patch with a finger while he bit the inside of your thigh.

‘Right, baby?’ He asked against your core, making you feel his breath right were you needed him the most. You just looked at him, enjoying the sight of his head in between your legs.

‘I thought you would have understood by now that I want words,’ he insisted.

‘Yes, only for you, Jungkook!’ He smiled, satisfied from your words and finally freed your sex from the annoying garment. Your eyes were glued to the way Jungkook stared at your glistening pussy. He looked like a starved man about to devour his last meal. And you did make for an excellent meal.

You thought he was finally going to give you something, but it seemed that you still had to wait, because he suddenly traced your lips with his thump, asking you to part them and introduced two fingers inside your mouth. You quickly got the message and started enthusiastically sucking at his digits, swirling your tongue around them and coating them in your saliva. Then, he pulled his fingers out your mouth, taking a moment to admire the glistening mess you had made around them. Making eye contact with you before smoothly slipping his index and middle finger inside you, he started pumping in and out, while a chocked and throaty moan left your lips. He set a fast pace before adding a third finger, causing a moan to rip out of your throat. You could no longer hear the music, even though you knew it was still playing, only being able to catch the squelching sounds that your pussy made with every thrust of his fingers.

‘Fuck, just like that!’ You moaned in ecstasy. At the sound of your voice Jungkook gazed to have a better look at your fucked-out state, hooded eyes admiring the way you shut your eyes tightly in pleasure. The soft moans leaving your lips were better than any song that could sound from his playlist. And then Jungkook decided to really give it to you.

A groan left your lips at the first strip of his tongue with your centre, he licked from your hole, where he still was scissoring you at a furious pace, to your clit. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping handfuls of it and pressing his face harder against your cunt. At this point, it was you practically moving his face along your sex, your hips bucking up whenever his nose brushed your clit. But your actions only encouraged the boy to continue licking and sucking with a renovated vigor.

‘Holy fuuuck! Jungkook, I’m—’ You felt your high arrive with a broken sob of his name, pleasure rushing through your veins as you lay back against the pillows, letting Jungkook help you ride out your climax with delicate licks.

Once he stopped, you tried catching your breath, but something told you that he was far from done with you.

‘Good?’ He wondered, as if he hadn’t just witnessed first hand the effect he had on you. Quickly nodding, you brought your hands to the hem of his sweatpants, salivating at the image of his boner.

‘Uh-huh. I make the decisions here. Open your mouth,’ he ordered. Being too far gone to even try to resist him, you followed his commands. He brought his index and middle finger into your mouth again.

‘Lick them nice and clean and I’ll fuck you so good you will forget your name. Okay?’ He proposed. You started eagerly sucking at them, tasting yourself, the promise he just made you send a new wave of arousal to your core. Once his fingers were clean, you let go of them with a popping sound. Jungkook really wanted to dwell on the image in front of him, but he felt like his cock would break through his pants if he didn’t do anything about his boner quickly.

Not wasting another second he got rid oh his sweatpants and underwear his cock sprung free, your eyes widening at his girth.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,’ he grinned, while taking a condom from the bed-side table. And just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter, he ripped the package with his mouth. As eager as you were to feel him inside already, you felt bad about not doing anything for him. So you softly closed your fingers around his dick and earning some breathy moans from him. You gave it a few pumps, as it wasn’t already hard enough, before he slipped his cock inside the condom.

He wasted no time in rubbing the tip of his length along your dripping folds, coating himself in your slick. You both sighed at the feeling of his manhood on your wet heat, and you rolled your hips experimentally, making both of you choke out gasps. Jungkook positioned his hardness right in the centre of your pussy and started moving forwards and backwards, closing his eyes in pleasure.

‘St-stop the teasing,’ you begged, slightly shivering since you still felt a bit sensitive after your first orgasm.

‘If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?’ He asked amused, without stopping the movement of his hips.

‘I could be moaning even more if you just put it in,’ you sassed back. You saw his eyes darken, almost looking as if he were mad at you, a devilish grin appearing on his face.

‘Challenged accepted, baby.’ He growled, finally taking his cock and placing it where you needed him. He slowly started pushing inside your folds.

‘So fucking tight. Shit, I could probably come right now,’ You could only moan in relief, finally getting what you so desperately needed. Jungkook admired the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to control your breathing while taking him in.

‘Am I hurting you?’ He asked, when he was about halfway in. You opened your eyes to look at him. He was examining your expression with big doe eyes, waiting for any sight of discomfort. But there was nothing to look for.

‘No, you’re perfect,’ you whispered, feeling his cock twitch at your words. So he liked to be praised, that was good to know. Even though you didn’t know why. Slowly he makes his way until he was fully inside you, cursing at how well you were taking him.

‘Look here,’ he panted,’ look how perfect you look like this, 'you followed his gaze to where he was staring, the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you making you let out a chocked moan.

‘And to think that you came here to yell at me,’ he chuckled,’ what a fucking twist, don’t you think?’ You could feel him speeding up his ministrations and his breathing starting to become uneven.

He slammed his hips against yours, the loud sound of your skin slapping together and the bed’s squeaking filled the bedroom, shadowing whatever song was playing now. His thrusts were rocking the bed causing it to slam against the wall repeatedly. If any other neighbours hadn’t come to complain about the music, they sure as hell would come now, because on top of all, neither of you was exactly controlling their moans.

It was at that moment, with Jungkook nestled deep inside you, your hands scrapping his back and his hot breath against your neck, that you realized you didn’t have a single care in the world right now, the feeling was heavenly, and you didn’t wanna stop. But you could only hold your orgasm for so long, and you felt it already at the pit of your stomach.

‘Jungkook, I’m gonna—,’ you started, but couldn’t get the words out when you felt his tip brush against your g-spot.

‘I know. I’m close too,’ he panted,’ let’s come together, yeah?’ Moving your hands from his broad back, you cupped his face and kissed him. It was sloppy and messy and there was probably too much saliva in between. But you didn’t care, this was your way of thanking him for making you get your head off of all the shit you had to put up with today, even if he didn’t know it.

Above you, Jungkook moaned out praises and sweet words and you relished in seeing him come undone like this. You feel him fill the condom with his seed, and with one last sharp thrust you also reach your high, shamelessly screaming his name, and knowing that the stars that cloud your eyes at the moment aren’t coming from his lamp.

You both swallowed each other’s moans with your lips, before he smiled sweetly at you and pulls out, making both of you groan. He stands up and goes to the bathroom, probably to throw the condom away.

Before thinking much about what just happened, you quickly got yourself dressed and left the room as quietly as you can. Once you were clean and laying on your own bed, you started relieving the events, and something tells you Jungkook would have come out of the bathroom with a towel to clean you up. Even if he had seemed such an asshole at first glance. And for a moment you relish on the fantasy, even if you know that leaving so quickly saved you from an awkward moment. Yeah, it was better not to think much about it. He didn’t even bother to ask your name after all. Besides, if he wanted something from you, he knew where to find you for the next week.

How to Get a Guy. jjk | 02

PART 02 OF 02 | PART 01

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader | [slight] Yoongi x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates!au, college!au, fuckboi!jk, enemies to friends to lovers

Summary: Star basketball player Jeon Jungkook has a reputation as the ultimate fuckboi. He’s loved by everyone. Everyone. And you would have followed suit if he had not broken all your strict Roommate Rules™ within the first week of his stay. Jungkook, on the other hand, thinks you’re absolutely bizarre. But there’s a silver lining — Mr. Fuckboi here knows basketball captain Min Yoongi, your dreadfully clueless crush. He strikes up a deal with you: he’ll teach you the ways of flirting if you lessen your load of rules (so Jungkook can continue perusing his way through the ladies on campus). Yet the longer Jungkook spends with you, the more he realizes that maybe he doesn’t want to be the campus fuckboi anymore. The problem is, how does he prove that to you?

Rating: 18+ sexual content.

Warnings: protected sex (twice..), oral (f. receiving), rough sex (1), a lot of making out, orgasm denial (for two secs methinks), titty sucking, cursing, alcohol consumption from parties, jk sleeps around (but not anymore?!), the basketball team is kinda disgusting, jk lowkey (highkey) be staking his claim but it’s seen in y/n pov, honestly jk and y/n are still hella confused

Word Count: 15.3k

a/n ✑ part dossss! thank you so much for waiting!! i adoreee this couple and i hope you enjoy the rest of their journey too <3 appreciate all of you guyss <33 (also there’s like.. one epilogue scene teehee)

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