Jungkook X Girlfriend - Tumblr Posts

-Never Not-

Pairing: Boxer!Jungkook x Fem Reader

Genre: Angst, Unrequited Romance, Smut

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit consensual sexual content, there is definitely porn, but also a tiny bit of plot if you squint; lots of angst, emotional manipulation (sort of), unrequited love, giving up, just buckle up ok? It’s kinda depressing 😭

Summary: All Jungkook ever wanted was your love. He knows you don’t love him back, but that’s never stopped him from trying to give you the world.

Requested By: Anonymous

You wander around the party looking for your target, just to get a glimpse of him, of Yoongi. Your friends said he’d be here tonight so you glammed yourself up, took the time to meticulously curl your hair, even followed a makeup tutorial to the letter. If you played your cards right, maybe it could be more than a glimpse. If you give him just the right look, say the right things, maybe he’d take you home, maybe he’d ask you out…maybe he’d take you away from this shithole of a town. Away from the things, and the people who kept you here.

You go from room to room dodging party goers who are already tipsy and shrug off their attempts at small talk.

“…JK really took that guy out tonight!”

“…glad I put my money on Jeon!”

“…Hey Y/N, where’s Jungkook?!”

On your third pass around the unfamiliar house you decide to give up. Clearly Yoongi isn’t here. Clearly tonight was a waste, you could’ve been home re-watching The Office for the 900th time, in comfortable clothes and no makeup.

In fact, that’s what you’re about to do, so you turn sharply around into the kitchen to B-line for the back door but you bump shoulders painfully with, yep, Yoongi.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he smiles apologetically, his drink having splashed onto your arm.

“It’s okay, no harm done,” you blot your beer splattered arm on the sides of your jeans.

“Hey you look really familiar…I definitely know you,” he squints a bit and you beam. He remembers you?

“Yes, well, kind of - we went to the same high school. You were in grade 12 though, when I was just coming in. I think we had an elective together but we sat in opposite corners of the room,” you recount shyly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Right! No, I remember,” he nods, “what’s your name again?”

“It’s Y/N, and you’re Yoongi. I have a good memory,” you say softly.

“Yeah? I remember you being awfully cute,” he smiles. You try to hide your own smile but just end up bashfully staring at your shoes.

“What about now, hm? Am I still cute?” you flirt.

“I’d say much more than cute,” he grins. “So what are you up to nowadays? Are you in uni still?”

You heat up a bit with embarrassment, “Uh, no. I never went. It’s just…I planned to but I kinda got stuck helping my dad with his gym.”

“Oh yeah…it’s the gym downtown right?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Cool, you guys have put out some pretty wicked boxers, right?” he asks, sipping the last of his beer.

“Mmhmm, yep,” you answer shortly, you’re not getting into this discussion. No fucking way. “You want another beer? I could go get you one?”

“Oh, sure, that’s nice of you,” he nods, “if you want grab one for yourself, maybe we could find somewhere quiet to catch up, yeah? Unless you were looking for your boyfriend or something?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you say quickly, “So…Yeah,” you bite your lip, “I’d really like that.”

“I think I’d like it too,” he grins, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart across your form. Boom, got’em.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

You practically skip into the kitchen, a giddy grin on your face. You dig around the giant cooler of ice looking for the brand of beer he had, finally finding a couple at the bottom.

You’re about to cross the kitchen threshold when you hear your name come out of someone’s mouth.

“Y/N? Yeah we went to school together. She grew up good,” you hear Yoongi reply to the unseen individual and you press your lips together in a smile.

“Dude you need to grab a beer and run far, far away from that one.”

Uh. The fuck?

“She seems nice enough?” Yoongi comes to your defense. Yeah! Damn straight!

“Not about being nice, that’s Jungkooks girl.”

“As in Jungkook Jeon? The boxer?” you hear the alarm in his voice. No! No, no, no!

“The very one.”

“Wait…she said she didn’t have a boyfriend…”

I don’t! I don’t!

“I don’t know if they’re actually together,” the stranger says, “doesn’t matter though. That’s his girl, and it’s not going to stop him from marching in here and beating the living shit out of anyone who even looks at her longer than two seconds. Heard he’s been looking all over town for her tonight after his match.”

“Shit,” Yoongi hisses, “hey thanks man. I’m going to head out then, may as well, I’m only in town a few more days anyway.”

“Right, no use spending them in the hospital.”

“No kidding, good seeing you!”

You peer around the corner and watch, heart broken, as Yoongi waves himself out of the opposite side of the house. Not even bothering to bid you goodbye. There goes the crush you’ve had since you were 15, the man you daydream about. He was interested, he wanted to catch up…he checked you out! Now he’s gone, the entire interaction may as well have been a stupid dream you just woke up from when it was starting to get good.

You twist the cap off your beer and shotgun it.

“Damn, want a shot to chase that with?” someone calls out and slides you a very robust shot of…tequila? You shrug and shoot it back, just in time for your eyes to start prickling with tears.

You push your way out of the back door, the spring air is still chilly at night and you wrap your arms around yourself.

You’ll never not be attached to Jungkook. Every time you make an attempt to put space between the two of you, there’s always something waiting to push you right back together. It’s suffocating, you’re suffocating and no one gives a shit. No one even sees you because Jungkook is always right on top. A cloak you’re forced to wear and everyone just makes you feel guilty for wanting to shimmy out of.

You should’ve expected it, when you see his shiny black pickup pull into the driveway. You knew he wouldn’t take long to find you, fuck, in this town there’s only so many places you could even be. There’s certainly nowhere to hide.

“Y/N?” he calls as he hops out of the truck.

“I won! Where were you?” he asks as he closes the distance between the two of you. You quickly swipe at the tears staining your cheeks, but not fast enough.

“Y/N? Baby?” he twists you around to confirm what he thought, “hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you sniff.

He glances at the house, “Did someone say something to you? Did someone fucking touch you? I’ll fucking kill-,”

“Stop it,” you sigh, “you know damn fucking well no one did anything to me. People are terrified of you.”

“Uh, okay? Sorry for your constant safety I guess?”

“Shut up…” you whisper, “just…just take me home.” You walk quietly to his truck and pull yourself up into the passenger seat.

The truck is eerily quiet as you rest your forehead against the window, watching the too familiar streets pass in a blur.

“Did you talk to him?” Jungkook asks quietly, you can barely hear him.

“What?”

“Yoongi Min, that’s why you look like that tonight right? You look so pretty tonight,” he continues quietly, “I heard some guys talking about him coming back to town. I may have been hit in the head a lot Y/N, but I’m not stupid.”

You wince at the hurt in his voice, a fresh set of tears surfacing. Why does he fucking do this? Why does he do this to you? It’s not fair.

“I didn’t see him and I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

A new kind of quiet erupts in the truck. Both of you aware you’re lying. Jungkook keeps driving, silently, until he pulls into your apartments lot.

“Why?”

That’s all he says. It’s a loaded question, but you’re not sure what exactly it’s loaded with. Why are you lying? Why did you get dressed up? Why what?

“What are you talking about?”

“Why don’t you love me?” he asks, and you realize he’s crying. You turn your head away because you can’t stand to look at him.

“Let’s not do this, not tonight Kookie,” you rub at your forehead, it’s starting to throb with the shot you took at the party.

“Do you know what I would give to have you get dressed up like this for me? Do you know how it hurts when I win, and then I look out into the crowd - always looking for you, always praying that you’ll be looking back, proud of me - but you’re never there Y/N.”

“I’ve been to a billion of your matches,” you remind him defensively.

He sniffles, “You never want to be there. Your dad makes you, because he wants us to be together.”

“There’s not a single person in this town who doesn’t want us to be together,” you scoff.

“Then let’s just be together! Fuck! Why do you hate me so god damn much?” he raises his voice a bit.

“I don’t hate you Jungkook, I hate what it would mean.”

“I don’t understand what that means,” he sighs.

“It will mean that I’ve finally accepted my fate. It means I’m never getting out of here. It means I’m going to just be another boxers wife, just like my mother - who finally up and ran away in the middle of the night, leaving us all behind because she couldn’t take it anymore! Is that what you want?” you snap at him. “Is that really the life you want?!”

“I won’t let that happen! Don’t you get I would do anything to make you happy? Don’t you see that I would give you the world if you’d just let me? If you just asked! Why do you think I get my ass knocked around? Huh? I’m going to make it Y/N. I’m going to be the fucking best, and I’ll take you with me everywhere I go.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that Jungkook? Do you have any idea how many fighters have said that? It’s not that simple and I’m not staking my future on an empty promise, from a man who could get KO’d next week right outta his career, a man I don’t even…”

You whip your head toward him. You’ve never seen him look so wounded and it cuts you, deep.

“Finish it,” he cries, “go ahead, a man you don’t even what?”

Love.

“Kookie…”

“Say it!”

“No…I won’t say it,” you reach out for his hand, and a sob escapes his lips when you squeeze it.

You sit there for several moments listening to him cry. If only he knew how you’ve tried, you’ve tried to love him. Once upon a time you even had yourself convinced you do. You care about him, you do want to see him happy - you just can’t get past the fact that the only thing he seems to want is you. It scares you, it’s a pattern you’ve seen a million times - most recently between your own parents.

If you choose him then you’ll marry him. You’ll watch him get knocked around the ring, you’ll watch him win and lose. You’ll get pregnant, you’ll grasp at straws to make ends meet. Then eventually, after he gets knocked down one too many times by the fighters just getting started, he’ll have to give up, and he’ll take over your fathers ownership of the gym.

He’ll train the next up and comer, desperately trying to live out his dream. You’ll watch him suffer through it, maybe he’ll even hit the bottle, just like your dad. But what of you? Well, you’ll disappear in the mountains of bills and expenses in the office of the gym, just like your mother did. You’ll explain to the kids why their dad is always at the gym and never home. You’ll beg him to choose something else, anything else. You’ll beg him to get you out of here but he won’t because he can’t let go. You see it in his eyes every time you look at him, he loves you - you’ve known it for years - but he loves the ring more and he’ll never let either of you go.

He’ll never let you go, and even if he did, you’ve got no where to run. You’ve got no real identity - you’re Y/N, the girl who grew up in a boxing ring cheering her dad on. Boxing is all you know, it’s where what little money you have comes from because you’re already working under all the receipts and expenses in the tiny beige office that smells like sweat and broken dreams. You’re already there, so what does it matter?

You squeeze his hand again, “Why don’t you come up?” you say.

Maybe it’s the fact that you watched Yoongi walk out of the party without so much as a goodbye, maybe it was the fact that every single person associates you with Jungkook already, maybe it was the tequila - doesn’t matter. You’re tired, and it’s time to just give up. You knew it was going to happen sooner or later…why fight any longer? You’re not the boxer.

“You mean…” he sniffles as his eyes dart up to yours.

“Yeah, I do. Come on,” you open the door and hop out, he does the same seconds after.

You lay your keys on the counter then turn to face him. He looks lost.

You’ve had sex with him before, a handful of times. In fact he’s the only person you’ve ever had sex with. Which just makes it all the more inevitable.

You pull your tight little tee shirt off, toss it on the couch. He gulps down some nervousness and stares at your breasts, so you help him out and remove your bra as well.

“Y/N…we don’t have to do this, not after all that…”

You just continue removing clothes until you stand, naked, before him.

“Come fuck me Jungkook,” you say, thankful that he doesn’t seem to hear the resignation in your voice, “I won’t ask twice.”

You walk toward him and grab his hands, pulling one toward a breast and the other against your cunt.

“Don’t you want it?” you mutter against his lips before sucking the bottom into your mouth.

He moans against you, and in spite of your heart, your pussy gushes at the noises he makes.

“That’s what I thought.”

Your tongues tangle with one another, your arms wrap around his neck and you stand on your toes while he fingers you. You whimper, your fingers falling back down to pull his tight sweater off. He’s bruised up, bad, and you can tell he had a close call with whoever he fought earlier. Nothing too big though, there’s a suspicious cut on his eyebrow but you don’t have time to inspect it. He pulls you up and around him like you’re nothing, walks you into the bedroom where you land on your mattress with a soft thud.

He spreads your thighs and kneels between them, playing with your clit while he licks and sucks the inside of your thigh. You twist his hair around your fingers and pull his face towards your sex.

“Eat me out,” you whisper breathlessly and he grants your wish. “Yes, just like that,” you hold his hair tightly, press his mouth against your dripping slit while you grind on his wet tongue. He’s moaning against your cunt and the vibrations send you reeling. “Keep going, don’t stop…”

He pushes your thighs up further and stiffens his tongue, spearing your tight hole with it as your hips buck against him, his nose buried in your slick.

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” you groan through clenched teeth, “my clit, put your tongue on my clit, please,” you beg.

He relaxes a bit and circles your clit softly with the flat of his tongue. You spread your legs as wide as they’ll go, grinding against him, letting yourself get lost in the wet noises and his soft moans. You hold him steady, a hand on either side of his head when he starts lightly flicking, and your whole body shudders in rhythmic spasms as you come on his lips.

“Put your cock in me, fuck me, want more,” you pant as your head falls back into the bed.

“Okay, yeah,” he responds, hopping around to get his pants and underwear off.

He’s going to stretch you out, his cock is thick and throbbing and you pull him into you, kissing your own wetness right off his mouth.

“Oh god,” he cries as he pushes into you, he holds your thigh up high against his hips.

“That’s it,” you encourage softly, “go deeper.”

He heeds your request and snaps his hips harder, you both gasp.

“Shit, that’s so fucking good,” he muses, forehead pressed against yours. He’s rocking into you hard and fast, you can feel yourself building up to another release.

“How does it feel?” you whisper.

“Feels so good,” he whines, “so wet and tight, so fucking good baby. Feels like home,” he adds.

“Yeah…yeah,” you agree, though it’s a drastically different meaning for you.

He sits up on his knees, pulls your legs over his shoulders and fucks into you hard. That does it, you hold it in as long as you can, but its too much and you come just as soon as you feel him release himself against your cervix.

“Jungkook!” you cry out his name as he slowly thrusts into you a few more times, letting you spasm and clench around him, milking him back into softness.

When it’s done, and your guilt has been minimized, you wash up. Clean the makeup off your face and slip into a gym shirt and a pair of oversized sweats. Then you go get the first aid kit.

“It’s not that bad,” he assures you as he swats at your hand.

“Stop,” you say gently, “it’ll open back up in your sleep if you don’t get a bandage on it.”

You meticulously swirl some ointment over the scrape on his brow you noticed earlier, then clean the edges up. You open up the steristrip and place it over the wound.

“Am I sleeping here?” he widens his eyes suspiciously.

“Yeah, you are.”

He sets the kit on your nightstand and pulls you into him, kissing you deeply. You make yourself small and let him spoon you, but his breathing evens out and deepens within minutes, signaling he’s already asleep.

This is fine, you think. It’s okay, it could be worse. It could be worse.

T H E E N D

Endnotes:

1. Hey anon! I hope this satisfies your angsty, unrequited, trapped request. I wasn’t too sure about this one but once I got to writing it I actually really had fun. So, I hope you like it.

2. Why am I cranking these fics out like I have no life? Oh, it’s because I have no life and if you can keep a secret: I’ve had A LOT of downtime at work. Could I fill that time with a mundane task that doesn’t actually need to be done but would make me an exemplary employee? Yeah. But they don’t pay me enough and they’re never going to soooo. Here we are.