AlmatiarAU

She/Her. Minors dni. Part of The BTS Writers Club

[almatiarau]

MASTERLIST

Hi All, these are my works. I write mostly fluff, a bit of angst and smut but genre mostly just romantic drama because I’m just a hopeless romantic at heart. So please enjoy my work and please do leave some comments and feedbacks as it would mean the world to me to know people enjoy my writings.

Thank you!

SMALL BUMP (KNJ x Fem. Reader)

Summary: You and your husband Namjoon had been trying to conceive for a while now. All the struggles of taking meds & vitamins, special diets, scheduled sex resulting in that double lines on your pregnancy test. Sadly, fate came between you when an unwanted event unfolds. 

COMING SOON

WILLING TO TRY (KSJ x Fem. Reader)

Summary: You honestly think they day you married the love of your life, Kim Seokjin, was the happiest day of your life, a new beginning of a lifetime full of love and happiness. But they say marriage always brings out the worst in people, maybe you’ll learn it first hand on whether that saying was right.

COMING SOON

REMINISCE (MYG X READER, JJK X READER)

Summary: You and Yoongi are happily married, he was your high school sweetheart after all. But why does a certain ex-boyfriend plaguing your mind lately? Will you cross the sacred boundary just for the sake of memories and longing?

COMING SOON

FINDING HOPE (JHS X F. READER)

Summary: Jung Hoseok relies on you, the lovely teacher assistant of his child’s daycare to help him ease the chaotic life of a working single dad. Finding mutual bond over the tragic incidents happened in both of your past, will you be able to find hope in each other to move on and live a more “hopeful” life?

A/N: ITS HERE! Happy Birthday Hobiii!! and happy reading guys!

COMING SOON

DAY ONE (KTH x Fem. Reader, One Shot, Mature Content)

Fluff, Smut, Officemate!Taehyung, Office Workers AU

Summary: Taehyung and you work in the same department for 3 years now, you have always had a crush on him but know how he’s so out of your league. One day you two are appointed to plan your company’s birthday event, in the midst of it all will you finally had a chance with him?

A/N: It’s here!! happy reading and happy birthday Tae!

INTERTWINED (JJK x Fem. Reader, MATURE CONTENT) minor dni! (ON HOLD)

Fluff, Smut, Angst. Slice of Life, Age Gap (reader is older than JK)

Summary:  Jungkook is a superstar, y/n is a divorcee, two unlikeable worlds colliding with the love of music and deep talk, but life is not always a fairytale right? Does love worth the risk of a career 10 years in the making? Does love worth straining your relationship with family?

DE-RAILED (College Student!JJK x Fem. Reader, Mature Content) (COMPLETED ONE SHOT)

College AU, Strangers to Lovers

Fluff, a bit of Angst, Smut, basically PWP

Summary: Life has always been a smooth sailing for you, but it’s the other way around for Jungkook. Driven by motivation, he doesn’t need anything or anyone as distractions, but you, you might be the one he want to get derailed with.\

SOMETHING JUST LIKE THIS (JJK x Fem. Reader, Exes to Lovers, Second Chance AU) (COMPLETED MINI SERIES)

Summary: In the middle of adjusting your life to being a divorcee with a daughter, you are invited to your middle school reunion. There, you meet your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook, who also has his own struggle. Feeling nostalgic, both of you are involved in a journey of walking down memory lane. Between puppy love and friendship, will romance bloom for a second time?

REMINISCE (MYG X READER, JJK X READER)

Summary: You and Yoongi are happily married, he was your high school sweetheart after all. But why does a certain ex-boyfriend plaguing your mind lately? Will you cross the sacred boundary just for the sake of memories and longing?

COMING SOON

Hi All, since I LOVE listening to music and sometimes got inspired from it, I’m having a separate section of Song Inspired Drabbles, just a little bit one scene or so, usually when I got inspired to write from the songs I heard. Hopefully you will enjoy it too :)

Real Thing (JJK x F. Reader) - Fluff Drabble

[kurapikaenia]

𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙡 & 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙠.︱ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ oneshot.

when the stoic and devastatingly handsome sir jeon jungkook is appointed as your personal knight, sworn to guard your royal highness with a will forged from steel, you quickly discover that his greatest strength may also be his most infuriating trait, he is utterly immune to you. no matter how tightly you lace your corset, he remains the perfect knight, eyes respectfully averted, jaw set like stone. but while sir jungkook may be a man of steel, you are a princess accustomed to getting what you want, and with every sinful intention of discovering whether even the realm’s most loyal knight could be brought to his knees for you.

⎯⎯ pairing: knight jungkook x princess y/n

warnings: erotica, forbidden medieval fantasy au, porn with plot, age gap, yearning, size difference, oral fixation (f.), unprotected sex, the princess is very horny, cold,dom!knight, bigdick!knight, breeding, pregnancy trope, war brutality, motherhood, subtle angst

word count: 20.5k

The great hall of the royal palace echoed with the murmurs of the assembled court. The King sat upon his throne, his stern gaze sweeping over the line of elite knights who had come to compete for the highest honor in the realm, becoming the personal protector of his only daughter, the princess, you.

The position was coveted for many reasons, but none more obvious than the princess herself.

Beauty had always been your burden as much as your blessing. Tales of it traveled farther than merchants and faster than ravens, crossing borders until even distant courts spoke your name with a mixture of admiration and longing. Princes penned verses in your honor without ever meeting you. Even seasoned knights, men hardened by war and duty, often found themselves disarmed by nothing more than a smile.

With your coronation fast approaching, the kingdom stood on the brink of celebration. It would be the grandest event seen in decades, drawing princes, dignitaries from every corner of the continent. Some would arrive seeking alliances. Most would arrive seeking you.

The prospect amused you more than it excited you.

“Protecting my daughter is not merely a matter of strength,” your father’s voice boomed through the hall. “It demands unyielding discipline and absolute loyalty. You will each face three trials. The princess herself will accompany you, so that you may prove your worth in her presence.”

Your eyes swept slowly across the line of knights standing before the throne, a faint mask of boredom kissing your beautiful face, certain that none of them would truly be able to handle you.

For years, entertaining yourself at the expense of knights had become something of a pastime. A lingering touch against a gauntleted hand, a mere whispered compliment that left disciplined warriors suddenly forgetting their own names. Watching them struggle to maintain their composure was endlessly amusing.

You had notoriously toyed with men like this, living wildly beneath the weight of your royal title, and your father knew this better than anyone. That was precisely why he had designed these trials.

He wasn’t simply looking for the strongest sword arm. He wanted a knight with sharp intellect and the rare ability to withstand your constant attempts to live life on your terms rather than as a perfectly mannered princess.

A small, intrigued smile played on your lips when the first few knights stepped forward. They were impressive in brute force, but you could already tell they would crumble the moment you decided to play.

Then he stepped forward.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

Even fully armored, with only his dark, piercing eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet, once his unflinching gaze met yours for a brief second, a strange spark ignited low in your belly. You tilted your head, studying those dark eyes with growing interest.

The first trial took place that very evening in the smaller banquet hall. Only a select few courtiers were present. You sat at the high table beside your father, sipping from a jeweled goblet.

Unknown to the competing knights, the King had arranged for one of the wine pitchers to be laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Harmless, but potent enough to leave the princess disoriented and vulnerable. Only the King, a few trusted advisors, and the princess herself knew of the plan.

The knights had been given only one instruction: protect the princess. No further details.

As the evening progressed, the effects of the draught began to take hold. Your thoughts grew pleasantly hazy, movements slower. The jeweled goblet nearly slipped from your grasp once before you caught it. A second time, you laughed at something that had not been particularly funny.

Several knights noticed. Some were too busy trying to appear vigilant, eyes constantly scanning the room for imaginary assassins.

A few noticed your condition and drew dangerously close. One insisted on helping you stand despite the fact that you had not asked for assistance. Another rested a hand against your lower back almost inappropriately while guiding you through the room. One knight even smiled when he realized how heavily you leaned upon him after stumbling.

The courtiers watched everything. So did the King.

You were beginning to feel genuinely annoyed when a tall figure stepped silently between you and yet another overeager knight.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

Unlike the others, he had not hovered around you all evening. He had remained where a royal protector belonged, close enough to intervene, distant enough to respect your space.

Dark eyes studied your face through the narrow opening of his helmet. “The princess has had enough wine,” he declared.

The knight beside you scoffed. “She seems perfectly fin—”

“She does not.”

You watched surprise flicker across the other knight’s face.

Sir Jungkook’s hand briefly closed around your forearm as you swayed, steadying you before immediately letting go the moment your balance returned.

Within moments he had summoned two ladies-in-waiting to accompany you back to your chambers. When another knight offered to carry you himself, Sir Jungkook declined on your behalf before you could even answer.

“Her reputation is as important as her safety.”

For the first time all evening, genuine curiosity stirred within you.

Most men saw opportunity when they looked at you. Some saw beauty, a few saw a future crown. Yet somehow, Sir Jeon Jungkook seemed to see only his duty.

As the ladies guided you toward the doorway, you glanced back over your shoulder.

“How noble of you, Sir Jungkook,” you teased, voice softened by the draught. “Are you always so resistant to temptation?”

His gaze never wavered. “My duty is to protect Your Highness.”

For reasons you could not quite explain, that response lingered in your thoughts far longer than any flirtatious remark ever had.

The final trial was, by all appearances, the simplest.

After weeks of staged attacks, hidden tests, the remaining candidates expected one final demonstration of skill. Some anticipated a duel. Others believed they would be sent to defend the princess from another fabricated threat. Instead, the King announced that the last trial would consist of a single week of personal duty beside the princess. No further explanation was offered.

The knights were disappointed.

You, however, knew exactly what your father was doing.

The trial was not designed to test strength or intelligence. It was designed to test restraint.

Most of the candidates failed within days. Some became overly eager whenever you requested their company.

Others ignored palace protocol the moment you suggested bending the rules. One knight allowed you to wander through the city market without informing the royal guard because he was too eager to please you. Another accepted an invitation to share wine in one of the palace balconies despite knowing perfectly well how improper it appeared. Every failure was carefully observed and quietly recorded.

Only one knight remained infuriatingly impossible.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

The more you watched him, the more determined you became to discover his weakness. Surely he had one. Everyone did.

At first, your attempts were harmless. During walks through the palace gardens, you lingered beside him instead of remaining ahead as protocol dictated. During meals, you directed most of your conversation toward him. More than once, you deliberately brushed your fingers against the steel of his gauntlet while speaking. Other knights would have turned crimson. Some would have stumbled over their own words.

Sir Jungkook merely stepped aside and continued his duties as though nothing had happened.

Perhaps it was the way every other knight had spent the past weeks attempting to impress you, the King, or the court.

Where others sought favor, he sought only to fulfill his duty. And thus, when the day of the final judgment arrived, the outcome surprised absolutely no one.

Your father rose slowly from his seat.

“Sir Jeon Jungkook,” he declared, voice echoing through the hall. “You have successfully completed all trials. You have shown not only strength and intellect, but the rare ability to anticipate danger and resist… temptation.” His gaze flicked briefly to you. “From this day forward, you are hereby appointed as the princess’s personal royal knight and protector. Guard her with your life. And may the gods help you.”

A murmur rippled through the court.

You turned toward Sir Jeon Jungkook, stepping just close enough that your crimson gown brushed his armor.

“Welcome to my service, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered so only he could hear. “I do hope you’re prepared. Resisting me may prove to be your greatest trial yet.”

His dark eyes held yours with unshakable strength. “I was under the impression I had already passed that one, Your Highness.”

—

Having Sir Jeon Jungkook follow you around all day wasn’t ideal.

It had not even been three months since his appointment as your royal knight, yet his constant, silent presence had already begun to grate on your nerves. He was always a towering shadow in dark armor, never more than a few steps behind. What annoyed you most was his utter lack of reaction.

No matter how boldly you flirted, no matter how you tightened your corset in front of him until your breasts nearly spilled over, no matter how many times you “accidentally” brushed against him, he remained perfectly composed.

What bothered you most of all was that you still had no idea what he looked like. Only those dark, intense eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet. The rest of him remained hidden behind steel, a constant, frustrating mystery.

The journey to the neighboring kingdom for the grand alliance celebration had been long and stifling. You rode in the royal ornate covered carriage borne by four strong horses and guarded on all sides. The extravagant gown you wore was beautiful but suffocating, the tight corset pressing against your ribs and making every breath feel like a struggle. Boredom weighed on you like lead.

Your dearest friend, Lady Isolde rode beside you in her own litter. She was to be wed in a month, and the two of you had spent the journey giggling like girls again, whispering behind silk curtains.

“He’s so tall,” Isolde teased, peeking through the gap toward where Sir Jeon Jungkook rode steadily beside your litter. “And those eyes… I wonder what the rest of him looks like under all that steel. Do you think he’s handsome, or just another brute?”

You laughed softly, though your gaze lingered on the narrow slit of Jungkook’s helmet, where those dark, intense eyes remained fixed forward.

“As if,” you replied, laced with mock boredom. “He’s far too proper. I could tighten my corset until my breasts nearly spill, and he wouldn’t even glance.”

Isolde giggled. “You should try. For science.”

Sir Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward the litter for the briefest second before returning forward. You smirked. Annoyed as you were by his constant, unflinching presence… you were also undeniably intrigued.

That night, after the feasting and music had died down and the royal party made camp near the forest’s edge, you slipped away, desperate for even a moment of peace, and determined to test just how far his restraint could stretch.

The air had grown chilly, carrying the faint bite of early autumn as you made your way to the forbidden stretch of the deep bend where the river water ran swift and dangerously deep. No one was permitted here after dark, especially not the princess.

You knew he would follow.

The heavy footsteps of armor soon echoed behind you on the rocky bank.

“Your Highness,” Sir Jungkook’s deep voice rang out, firm. “This area is strictly prohibited at night. The currents are treacherous and the water is far too cold. We must return to the palace at once.”

You barely looked at him. Your eyes were fastened upon the vast expanse of the river, moonlight dancing across its dark surface like scattered diamonds. You wanted nothing more than to feel the cool waves kissing your bare skin, to swim freely under the moon with no eyes judging you in, except his.

A small, unusually kind smile touched your lips as you turned toward him.

“Why don’t you join me, Sir Jungkook?” you asked softly, your voice carrying on the gentle night breeze. “Just for a little while. The water looks so peaceful tonight.”

Sir Jungkook stood like a statue in his dark armor. “Your Highness… that would be highly improper,” he replied, voice low. “I am here to protect you, not to… bathe with you.”

You let out a soft, melodic laugh and began walking toward the river’s edge, the hem of your gown brushing the grass.

“Well, I suppose then…” you bit your lip, your fingers moving to the laces of your gown with aching slowness. “I shall swim, and you will stand guard like the loyal knight you are.”

You could feel his intense eyes watching through the narrow slit of his helmet as you loosened the ties. The rich fabric slid from your shoulders like liquid silk, pooling at your feet.

Completely bare under the moonlight, you wore nothing beneath. Your skin glowed luminous and your full breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples already stiff from the cold night air. The curve of your waist flared into soft hips, and the smooth, delicate skin between your thighs was on full display.

Sir Jungkook immediately turned his head sharply away, staring fixedly into the dark trees.

“Your Highness!” His voice was strained. “This is highly inappropriate. I cannot allow—”

“You don’t have to allow anything,” you cut him off, dripping with defiance. “You’re not permitted to touch me while I’m bare. So you’ll just have to stand there.”

You waded into the river with a soft gasp. The icy water bit into your skin, but the thrill of rebellion pushed you forward. You swam out deeper, the cold making your body hypersensitive.

You glanced back at the bank. Sir Jungkook stood like a statue, head turned away, refusing to look at your naked form even once. His armored fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

A thrill of satisfaction ran through you.

You felt exhilarated. Free. And wickedly aware that the most disciplined man in the kingdom was standing on the bank, fighting not to look at you.

“Are you really going to stand there all night, Sir Jungkook? The water feels wonderful… and I’m all alone out here.” You swam further out, the cold water caressing every inch of your bare skin. A soft, content sigh escaped your lips.

It would be a plain lie if you said you weren’t at least a little relieved that he had followed you. The deep bend was no joke. its treacherous currents and deadly depth were feared even by The King. Yet here you were, aching to tear down the walls of the knight who refused to bend to your charms.

You floated lazily on your back, letting the moonlight kiss your bare skin. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you took your chance.

Once a subtle current tugged at your legs, you gasped dramatically, flailing your arms and letting out a soft, helpless cry. “Oh—!”

You fought back a giggle, pretending to be a damsel in distress, knowing the current wasn’t strong enough to truly endanger you. You wanted to see if you could finally crack his composure.

But the gods had other plans.

Without warning, a far more treacherous undercurrent slammed into you like a living beast. It dragged you under violently, twisting your body, filling your mouth and nose with icy water. Real panic surged through you as you lost your breath and sight in the black depths.

“Jungkook!” you screamed, the sound barely coherent as water rushed into your lungs. This time, it was no act.

Sir Jeon Jungkook did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He plunged into the river fully armored, cutting through the violent current with powerful strokes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking your naked body against his steel chest as he fought the river with raw, expert strength. You clung to him desperately, coughing and gasping as he dragged you back to the rocky bank.

The moment he pulled you ashore, his helmet caught on a low hanging branch and was ripped clean off.

You lay on the grass, gasping for air, when your eyes finally focused on the man hovering above you.

And you forgot how to breathe.

Sir Jeon Jungkook was devastatingly, unfairly handsome.

Wet raven black hair clung to his forehead and sharp, sculpted cheekbones. Water droplets traced the strong line of his jaw and dripped from sensual lips. His dark eyes, now fully exposed, were intense and beautiful, framed by long lashes and thick brows. A faint scar graced his left eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise perfect masculine beauty.

Before you could speak, he swiftly grabbed his crimson cloak and draped it over your naked body, covering you completely with careful reverence. His gaze remained locked strictly on your face, never once drifting to your exposed skin.

“Are you okay, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rough with concern. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he noticed the way you were staring at his now-bare face.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The combination of the dangerous current, the shock of nearly drowning, and the overwhelming sight of your knight’s true face left you dizzy and speechless.

Your vision blurred. You passed out in his arms.

Sir Jungkook pulled you closer against his armored chest, one large hand gently brushed your wet hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you like a warrior carrying his lady, your head resting against his broad shoulder, body wrapped securely in his cloak, legs draped over his arm as he carried you back to his mare.

He mounted carefully, keeping you nestled safely against him as the horse began the journey back to the palace through secret paths.

You woke briefly as he laid you down on the thick rug before the hearth in your royal chambers. The fire was already roaring. You were still wrapped in his cloak, beneath it only a thin silk bandeau now clung to your body, the delicate material barely containing your breasts, pressing them together in a deep, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each shaky breath.

You trembled from the cold and the lingering shock of the river.

Sir Jeon Jungkook remained kneeling by the fire, his movements precise as he stoked the flames. Water dripped from his raven hair onto his armoured shoulders. Then he rose to his full, imposing height, towering, broad shouldered.

Without a word, he reached for his helmet, which rested upon a nearby oak chest, clearly intending to conceal his face once more.

“No,” you whispered, your voice soft yet commanding as you pushed yourself up on one elbow. “Do not put it back on.”

The knight paused, gloved hand hovering above the helm. His dark eyes met yours, intense and conflicted.

“Your Highness… it is not fitting for me to stand before you unveiled,” he said, his voice carrying the formal cadence of a sworn knight. “I must maintain the dignity of my position.”

You sat up fully, the cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin and the edge of the silk bandeau. Despite the cold still clinging to your bones, warmth bloomed low in your belly as you gazed upon his face, truly beheld it for the first time.

“Come closer,” You rose to your knees on the rug, the cloak parting further as you reached for him. “Let me see you properly.”

He hesitated, every line of his powerful frame taut with restraint. Yet he obeyed, lowering himself once more to kneel before you. Even on his knees, he remained nearly at your eye level, so tall and broad was he.

You lifted a delicate hand and brushed your fingers through his damp raven locks, pushing them back from his forehead. A contented sigh escaped your lips.

“You are far too pleasing to look upon, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered, almost in awe. “I had wondered what lay beneath that steel. Never did I imagine such a face.”

Sir Jungkook remained perfectly still on his knees before you. His hands rested tensely on his armoured thighs as he fought to keep his gaze fixed on your face and not the way your breasts strained against the thin silk bandeau.

“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he replied, voice low. “But I am your knight. Nothing more. Please allow me to restore my helmet.”

You shook your head slowly, refusing to let him hide again. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers still buried in his damp raven hair.

A new, overwhelming wave of admiration and obsession washed over you. This man... this mature, hardened, breathtakingly handsome knight was kneeling before you like a devotee. The realization sent a fresh rush of heat between your thighs.

“You’re older than me, aren’t you?” you murmured softly, continuing to caress his hair with gentle strokes. “Hardened by battles and years I haven’t yet seen.”

You wondered how many more scars he carried beneath that heavy armor hidden across his broad chest, his strong back.

“I am twenty eight, Your Highness,” he answered quietly, his deep voice carrying that disciplined tone you were growing addicted to.

“Tell me something personal,” you said, your voice turning playful yet curious. Your fingers trailed from his hair down to trace his cheekbone once more. “Have you ever been with a woman, Sir Jeon? Truly been with one?”

His jaw tightened visibly. The question crossed every boundary a knight was sworn to respect.

“Your Highness… such questions are not appropriate for me to answer,” he replied. You leaned in even closer, still stroking his hair tenderly, your breath brushing against his skin.

“But I want to know,” you whispered. “Have you ever touched a woman the way a man touches a lover? Ever kissed one?”

Jungkook’s breathing grew slightly heavier. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours with iron discipline, though you could clearly see the storm brewing behind them.

“I have not, Your Highness,” he finally answered, voice low and honest. “My duty has always come first.”

A thrill ran through you at his confession. You let your fingers drift lower, brushing along his sharp jawline. “And if a woman wanted you… desperately?” your voice dropped to a near whisper. “If she wanted your mouth between her thighs… your tongue tasting her, would you deny her?”

The impure question hung heavy in the air between you. You shocked even yourself with how boldly it slipped out, but the vivid image, his devastatingly handsome face trapped between your legs, mouth glistening with your arousal made the heat bloom even more slick between your thighs.

Sir Jungkook’s hands clenched tighter on his armored thighs. A faint flush colored the tips of his ears and neck, but he remained on his knees.

“Your Highness,” he said, reverently, “I am sworn to protect you. Not to… indulge in such thoughts.”

You smiled softly. Then you leaned back on the bed, letting the crimson cloak fall open completely. The thin silk bandeau was the only thing left covering you, and even that felt too much now.

“Then I command you,” You looked down at him, this powerful knight on his knees before you, and felt a rush of pure need. “I want your mouth on me, Jungkook. Right now.”

“Your Highness, I—”

“Touch me,” you breathed, cutting him off. “Please, Jungkook…”

You reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to your chest. Slowly, you pressed his large palm over the thin silk bandeau, letting him feel the soft, heavy weight of your breast. Your nipple was already painfully hard beneath the fabric.

Sir Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arm flexing under the armor as he fought against every instinct.

You didn’t stop there, dragging his hand lower, sliding it down your stomach until his fingers rested between your thighs. You were soaked. your petals slick and hot against his gloved fingers.

“Feel how damp you make me,” you whispered, voice shaking with need.

Sir Jungkook let out a low, strained groan. His dark eyes were fixed on your face, but you could see the violent war happening behind them.

The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on — the princess, the future queen, was laid out before him in nothing but a flimsy silk bandeau, legs spread, pressing his hand against her dripping cunt.

“Your Highness…” he rasped, albeit desperate. “This is beyond forbidden. You are royalty. I am sworn—”

“I don’t care,” you whimpered, grinding slowly against his gloved fingers. “I need you. I’ve never felt this way before. Touch me now, my knight. Please.”

His hand trembled. For a long moment, he simply rested there, feeling your wetness soak through the leather of his glove. Then, with a broken exhale that sounded like surrender, his fingers moved.

He stroked along your soaked folds, parting the delicate petals of your most secret flower. And what a flower it was... a lush, glistening rosebud blooming only for him. Your outer lips were soft and swollen with need, flushed deep, delicate like the first blush of dawn.

As he gently spread you open, the inner petals revealed themselves: silky, and impossibly tender, layered like the finest rose in full bloom after a summer rain. At the center lay your sweetest nectar, dripping and honeyed, flowing abundantly from your aching entrance.

The knight didn’t know what came over him, but your pulsing heat and slick, puckering folds had him utterly entranced. His breathing grew ragged. You could see the way his throat worked, the way his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He was drooling.

“May I lick you, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with barely contained hunger. “Please… allow me to taste you.”

The desperate plea from such a disciplined man sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you.

“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your thighs wider for him, your voice trembling with raw need. “Use your mouth on me, Jungkook. Lick your princess until she cannot think.”

The moment the words left your lips, something in him broke. Sir Jungkook leaned in and dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly up your soaked slit. The first full taste of you pulled a deep, guttural groan from his chest. You were intoxicatingly sweet and dripping with arousal. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every slick fold as if he were drinking the finest wine in the kingdom.

You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as overwhelming pleasure flooded your body. The sensation was brand new, so intense it made your legs twitch violently.

“Oh... Jungkook!” you moaned, fingers digging into his raven hair.

The knight’s tongue circled your swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth, then plunged inside your tight heat, ravishing you with slow, deep strokes. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth eagerly eating you echoed through the chamber, obscene, and shameless.

The most beautiful woman he had ever known, the future queen, was thrashing beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head, soft whimpers and loud moans spilling from her pretty lips.

Your hips rolled desperately against his face, coating his tongue, lips, and chin with your sweet release. Sir Jungkook drank every drop you gave him, groaning against your cunt as his own cock strained painfully against his armor.

He had never tasted anything so addictive.

You were already twitching, gasping, legs trembling so hard they threatened to close around his head. The pleasure was too much, too new, too overwhelming for your body.

Suddenly, Sir Jungkook pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your juices. His dark eyes looked up at you, breathing ragged.

“Should I continue, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with lust and devotion. “Tell me… do you want more?”

You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, pussy throbbing, dripping onto the mattress beneath you.

“Please don’t stop,” you whimpered desperately. “Keep licking me... please...”

The knight obeyed instantly. He buried his face back between your thighs and attacked your clit with relentless strokes of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard on your swollen pearl.

The pleasure hit you like a storm.

Your entire body seized up. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you gushed on his tongue. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, vision blurring at the edges.

You nearly passed out from the sheer intensity of it. body twitching, chest heaving, soft cries still falling from your lips as the pleasure refused to let go.

Sir Jungkook stayed between your thighs through every tremor, drinking down every last drop of your release like a man who had finally found salvation.

When your body finally went limp, trembling and oversensitive, he gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling back, his handsome face flushed and glistening with your arousal.

You could barely speak, still catching your breath as you stared at the sight of your proud, disciplined knight with your release shining on his lips.

—

“The Princess requires her knight’s escort to the eastern tower for stargazing.”

The message was innocent enough on paper. But the court had begun to notice how often you summoned Sir Jeon Jungkook for these private “duties.” Some whispered that the Princess trusted no one else. Others envied the knight who had earned such unwavering favor from the realm’s greatest beauty.

They had no idea what really happened once the tower door was bolted.

In the eastern tower under the stars, you would push Sir Jungkook against the cold stone wall and demand his mouth on you again. He always hesitated at first, “Your Highness, we mustn’t…” but the moment you looked at him with those wide, needy eyes and whispered “Please, Jungkook… I ache for you,” his resolve crumbled.

He would drop to his knees in full armor, push your skirts up to your waist, and bury his face between your thighs. The sounds he made while devouring you were filthy and desperately loud. wet slurps and deep groans as he drank every drop of your arousal. You quickly learned to muffle your loud moans against your own arm or his shoulder, thighs shaking violently around his head as he brought you to shattering orgasm after orgasm.

He never asked for anything in return at first. But one night, after he had made you come so hard you saw stars, you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you freed his thick, aching cock from his breeches.

You had never seen the knight fully bare, but you had tasted him.

You took him into your mouth with clumsy but eager hunger, sucking and licking until he was groaning your name like a prayer, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head. When he spilled down your throat, you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

The tension between you only grew hotter, more forbidden.

You began creating excuses just to be close to him.

You “accidentally” wandered into dangerous parts of the forest during hunts. You “lost” your way in the palace corridors at night. You deliberately teased foreign dignitaries until they grew too bold, all so Sir Jungkook would have to step in, pull you protectively against his armored chest, and hold you there while scolding you with his low voice.

Each time, you nestled your head against his chest plate, breathing in his scent, feeling safe in a way you had never felt with anyone else.

One quiet afternoon in the royal rose gardens, while the other knights kept their distance. The summer blooms were at their peak, rows upon rows of crimson roses spilling over marble trellises in a riot of color and fragrance. Courtiers often compared them to you. You had heard the comparison so many times throughout your life that it had long since lost all meaning.

Your attention was elsewhere when Sir Jungkook paused beside a rose bush heavy with crimson blooms. Reaching out, he selected a single flower and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before approaching.

“A gift?” you asked.

“If Your Highness would accept it.”

The answer surprised a smile from you.

He stepped forward and tucked the rose behind your ear. His gloved fingers lingered only for a second before withdrawing, but even that brief touch seemed to affect him more than he wished to admit.

When you looked up, his gaze was fixed upon the flower. “Beautiful things are dangerous,” he said quietly.

You laughed. “I believe roses are dangerous for everyone except gardeners.”

His expression didn’t change.

“I wasn’t speaking about the rose.”

Your heart fluttered so violently you had to look away. it was becoming impossible to deny how deeply you were falling for him.

The kisses grew sloppier, more desperate with every stolen moment.

In the abandoned library, your knight would press you against the bookshelves, helmet removed, and kiss you like he was drowning, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might vanish. You kissed him back just as hungrily, tugging at his hair, moaning softly into his mouth while your hand palmed the hard bulge in his breeches.

Your hunger for him was insatiable. You ached for his presence constantly. The court noticed how you lit up when he entered a room, how you instinctively moved closer to him during gatherings. They saw devotion, they saw trust.

They never saw the way you both held each other’s eyes like lovers who knew their time was stolen.

The relationship was utterly forbidden. Your father would banish him, or worse, if he ever discovered the truth. But neither of you could stop. Something real was blossoming between you.

The knight admired your wild, rebellious spirit. You admired his quiet strength and unwavering honor. In the darkness, you were no longer just princess and knight. You were becoming each other’s secret salvation. And it was only a matter of time before the tension finally snapped.

—

The Coronation.

The kingdom was in full celebration. Banners of the finest gold flew from every tower. The greatest event in decades had arrived, your coronation as Queen.

Princes from across the realms had come in droves, each more eager than the last to win your hand and the throne beside you. They brought lavish gifts, performed in grand tournaments, and showered you with compliments. The entire court watched with bated breath, waiting for you to choose.

You sat upon the raised dais in a breathtaking gown of white, looking every bit the ethereal queen-to-be. But your eyes kept drifting to the tall, armored figure standing silently behind your throne, Sir Jeon Jungkook.

He had become even more composed in public, yet you could feel the storm raging beneath his helmet. Especially when you decided to play your cruel little game.

Prince Min of Veina leaned close during the feast, whispering sweet nothings about your beauty. You laughed brightly, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers linger, leaning in just enough for your neckline to offer him a generous view of your breasts.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sir Jungkook’s gloved hand tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.

Another prince, a golden haired lord from the eastern isles, offered you a rose during the garden promenade. You accepted it with a coy smile, twirling it between your fingers while glancing toward your knight.

Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned behind the helmet. You could feel his jealousy like a living thing, hot and barely contained.

That night, after the feasting and dancing, you summoned him to the eastern tower under the usual pretense.

The moment the door closed, he was on you.

The knight pinned you against the cold stone wall. The single rose you’d been idly twirling between your fingers, a gift from one of the many princes, fell forgotten to the floor.

Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned with something almost feral.

“You will be wed off soon?” he growled dangerously, breath hot against your ear.

You looked up at him, heart racing. Your long, wavy hair had finally been let down after the long day, cascading over your shoulders and hips like dark silk. The tight corset of your white coronation gown was already loosened, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“What do you think about Prince Min?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “I think he’s quite lovely. So charming. He even said he would worship me every night once we’re wed.”

Sir Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it crack. The jealousy that had been simmering all day threatening to explode.

“Doesn’t it drive you mad, Sir Jeon?” You leaned in closer, letting your breasts brush against his armored chest. “Knowing your princess, the one you’ve been secretly devouring every night, is wanted by so many powerful men? That they all dream of putting a ring on my finger and taking me to their beds?”

“It is exquisite torture, Your Highness,” he growled, eyes burning. “Watching them look at you like they have any right to you. Knowing I’m the only one who’s ever tasted you, the only one who’s ever made you scream.”

His raw honesty sent a sharp thrill through you. You bit your lip, loving the way jealousy sharpened his features, making his dark eyes appear even more intense. He was possessive and barely holding himself back. And you wanted to push him further.

You stepped away from the wall with a teasing smile, walking over to the tall, gilded mirror that stood near the fireplace. The white gown still clung to your body, hair cascading in long, wild waves down your back. You picked up a silver brush and began slowly running it through it, watching him in the reflection.

Sir Jungkook followed you like a shadow, stopping just behind you. His tall, powerful frame loomed in the mirror, twice your size, radiating heat and restrained fury.

“Does that bother you, my knight?” A teasing smile played on your lips. “Knowing that soon I might have to let another man—”

You didn’t get to finish. Sir Jungkook’s large hand closed around your wrist, stopping the brush mid stroke. He plucked it from your fingers and set it down with a deliberate clack. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling your back flush against his armored chest.

Your breath hitched. The playful boldness you’d been wielding all night vanished in an instant.

“Enough,” he growled low against your ear, “You’ve teased me enough tonight, Your Highness.”

His dark eyes burned into yours through the mirror. The intensity there made your knees weak. This wasn’t the restrained, obedient knight anymore. This was a man who had finally reached his limit.

He reached around you and slowly began unlacing the rest of your corset. The white gown loosened further, slipping down your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as he tugged it lower, exposing your full breasts to the cool air and the warm firelight. Your nipples were hard, flushed, and sensitive.

Sir Jungkook’s hand cupped one breast possessively, squeezing it as his thumb brushed over the stiff peak. You gasped, arching into his touch.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered quietly, voice rough. “Look how beautiful you are. How perfect. And yet you let them think they could ever have this.”

He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you whimpered. His other hand slid down, gathering the fabric of your gown and pulling it up to your waist, fully exposing your bare cunt in the mirror.

Your face bloomed bright red as you instinctively tried to close your legs, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the sight of yourself so lewdly displayed, flushed and completely bare in the golden firelight.

But Sir Jungkook wouldn’t allow it. His large hand gripped your thigh firmly, spreading you open again as he pressed his body harder against your back.

“Don’t hide,” His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, intense and commanding. “Look how filthy and wet you are for me.”

You shivered, unable to tear your eyes away from the reflection. The contrast was obscene, your ethereal white gown bunched around your waist, breasts exposed and heaving, legs spread wide while his armored body loomed behind you like a dark, possessive shadow.

Sir Jungkook’s hand returned between your thighs. Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, parting them slowly so you could see everything in the mirror. You whimpered at the sight, embarrassed yet unbearably aroused.

“So beautiful,” he breathed as he circled your swollen clit with his fingertip. “This is what belongs to me. Not to any prince. Not to anyone else.”

He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began ravishing you with slow, deliberate strokes that made wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet tower.

You tried to close your legs again, overwhelmed, but he held them open with ease, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Watch,” he ordered softly, voice dark with lust. “Watch how easily I can make my princess fall apart.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your cheeks were flushed deep crimson, lips parted in shameless moans, breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.

The pleasure built fast and merciless. Your legs started shaking, thighs trembling violently as you fought to stay upright.

Sir Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firm circles on your swollen clit.

You came hard with a broken cry, arousal gushing down his wrist and dripping onto the stone floor beneath you. Your head fell back against his armored shoulder, body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through right after.

The knight dragged his arousal coated fingers from your pulsing heat and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while his dark eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. The obscene sight made you whimper, legs pressing together instinctively. This time, he allowed it.

You pulled away from him shyly, legs unsteady as you walked toward the wide couch near the fireplace. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover your bare breasts, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Sir Jungkook approached you ever so slowly. His heart was pounding. you could see it in the rise and fall of his broad chest. The way your flushed cheeks and shy posture made you look so adorable only made his desire burn hotter.

He stopped in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. Without a word, he gently uncrossed your arms, exposing your breasts again. You tried to cover them once more, but he caught your wrists softly.

“You’re too beautiful to hide, my love.” he murmured, voice low.

He leaned down and took one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. You gasped sharply, hands flying to his shoulders as overwhelming sensitivity shot through you.

“Jungkook... it’s too much...” you whimpered, lightly pushing at his shoulders, cheeks burning with shyness.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and affection. “You’re so sensitive here,” he whispered, almost in awe. He flicked his tongue over your nipple again, watching your reaction closely. “So angelic when you tremble like this.”

He sucked harder, alternating between your breasts, licking and biting softly until you were a whimpering mess, pushing at him weakly while your body arched into his mouth.

You grew frustrated at the unfairness, nearly naked while he was still fully armored. With a small, determined huff, you pushed him back slightly and began tugging at the straps of his armor.

“It is not fair,” you muttered, cheeks still flushed. “You get to see all of me, but I still haven’t seen you.”

The knight let you undress him, helping you remove piece after piece until he stood completely bare before you for the first time.

Your breath caught.

He was magnificent. Broad shoulders, powerfully sculpted chest marked with old scars, some long and faded, others newer. A few dark tattoos adorned his left pectoral and ribs. His abdomen was ridged with muscle, leading down to narrow hips. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and already hard.

You stepped closer, running your hands over his bare chest, tracing every scar with reverent fingers, exploring the strong lines of his back, more scars mapping his battles. He stood perfectly still, letting you admire him, though his breathing had grown heavier.

“You are… so manly, my knight,” you breathed, barely coherent, as your hands returned to his chest, sliding down the hard ridges of his abdomen. “So big… so perfect.”

The room had grown hotter, heavier. The air between you felt charged with months of suppressed longing. Your breaths mingled as you stared into each other’s eyes... yours wide with awe and desire, his dark with barely restrained hunger.

Sir Jungkook’s control finally snapped. He lifted you and laid you down on the wide couch near the fireplace, pinning your exploring hands above your head with one large hand, holding them there firmly before his body hovered over yours, powerful and imposing, thick cock resting heavy against your inner thigh.

“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.

You did, heart hammering.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.

You squirmed beneath him, aching and desperate. “Take me,” you pleaded, trembling. “Please, Jungkook… give it to me. I need you inside me.”

Sir Jungkook let out a low groan at your words. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. He was big, almost intimidatingly so. You felt the stretch even before he pushed in.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Your Highness,” he whispered, voice strained with worry and barely contained lust. His dark eyes searched yours, torn between desire and restraint. “You’re so tight...”

You trembled beneath him, legs parted wide around his hips. “Please,” you begged softly, cupping his face. “Don’t hold back. I need you. All of you.”

The knight exhaled shakily and began to push inside.

The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply as the thick head of his cock breached you, slowly forcing your walls open. Inch by thick inch, he sank deeper, filling you in a way you had never experienced before. It burned sweetly, bordering on too much, making your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Ah... Jungkook…” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming fullness.

He paused halfway, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, rough. “I’ll stop. I swear it.”

But you shook your head, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I need you deeper… please.”

With a low groan, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The fullness was devastating. You felt so stretched, so completely claimed, that for a moment you could barely breathe.

Sir Jungkook stayed still, letting you adjust, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice filled with awe and lust. “Such a good girl for me.”

When the burn finally melted into aching pleasure, you rolled your hips experimentally.

“Move,” you whispered. “Please… ruin me.”

That was all it took.

Sir Jungkook’s control snapped completely. He pulled back and thrust into you hard, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Jealousy and months of pent up desire fueled every powerful stroke. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt filled the tower, mixing with your loud, broken moans.

He was a knight sworn to protect the crown, now utterly ruining the very sovereign he had pledged his life to shield.

“Mine,” Sir Jungkook growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a dark mark. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”

He ravished you relentlessly, claiming you, marking you. His mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into your breasts, biting your collarbone, licking the tears from your cheeks. He pinned your wrists above your head again, hips snapping against yours with raw need.

You came hard the first time, screaming his name as your walls clenched violently around his thick length. But he didn’t stop. He took you through it, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, on the wide couch.

First, he worshipped.

The knight dropped to his knees behind you, his large hands spreading your cheeks reverently. He leaned in and pressed slow, open mouthed kisses along the curve of your royal backside, lingering presses of his lips that made your breath hitch. He kissed lower, then lower still, until his tongue dragged hot and wet over your soaked folds from behind.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot and heavy. “So divine. And yet I am going to ruin every sacred inch of you.”

Then the worship turned into ruin.

He rose, gripping your hips with white knuckled force, and thrust into you from behind in one deep, devastating stroke. You cried out sharply at the stretch, the thick length of his cock forcing your walls open, filling you so completely it stole your breath.

You sobbed in pleasure, fingers clawing at the cushions as he drove into you relentlessly. The power he exerted over you was intoxicating. this hardened warrior, dominating you utterly while still worshipping every tremble of your body.

“You belong to me,” he rasped, ruining you with slow, devastating strokes now. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Only yours, Jungkook... ahh!”

By the third round, you were a sobbing, whimpering mess, tears streaming down your face from overwhelming pleasure, body covered in his marks, cunt swollen and dripping with your combined release.

He took you in every way he could: against the wall, bent over the couch, riding him as he sat on the edge of the seat, then finally on your back again with your legs over his shoulders as he drove impossibly deep.

All night long, the tower echoed with your moans, his deep groans, the obscene wet sounds of your bodies joining. He claimed you utterly and completely devoted.

When he finally came for the last time, buried deep inside you, he held you tight, spilling pulse after pulse of hot seed into your womb, filling you until you felt impossibly full, claimed from the inside out.

Sir Jeon Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every word.

“You command the entire kingdom, my lady,” he whispered reverently, “but here in this hidden place… you are mine to ruin.”

You could only tremble in his arms, utterly spent, legs wrapped around his waist, heart pounding wildly as the fire crackled beside you.

The weight of what you had just done, and what it meant for both of you settled uncomfortably in the air. But in that moment, wrapped in his powerful arms, marked and filled by your knight, nothing else in the kingdom mattered.

The days that followed were a delicate illusion of peace.

It was late morning when you found yourself in the secluded royal bathing pool fed by a gentle river, surrounded by floating lily pads and white blossoms that drifted lazily on the current. The water was warm, scented with rose and lavender oils poured in by your maids. Sunlight filtered through the overhanging willow branches, casting soft, dappled light across the surface.

You leaned back against the smooth stone edge, your long dark hair floating around you like ink in water. Your body still carried the secret marks of the previous night, faint bruises on your hips, love bites hidden beneath the waterline, and a persistent, delicious ache between your thighs that reminded you with every shift who had claimed you so thoroughly.

Your maids, Elara, Verra, and old, wise Selyse moved around you carefully. They had raised you since you were a babe, more mothers than servants. They knew you better than anyone.

Elara poured another stream of warm water over your shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush that still lingered on your cheeks.

“You are glowing again this morning, my lady,” she said lightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “One might think the moon itself had kissed your skin.”

Verra, younger and bolder, laughed softly as she massaged oil into your scalp. “Or perhaps a certain tall, dark eyed knight has been keeping you… well attended.”

You felt your face heat, but you couldn’t stop the small, secret smile that curved your lips.

Selyse, the eldest, clicked her tongue but her eyes were soft with affection. “Hush, you two. Our princess has always been radiant. Though…” she tilted her head, studying you, “there is a new light in her eyes these days. And a certain weariness in her step that speaks of long nights.”

You bit your lip, sinking a little lower into the water as lily pads brushed against your skin.

“It is nothing,” you murmured, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Nothing?” Vera teased, wading closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

“We have seen you grow from a wild little girl into this breathtaking woman. We know your heart. And we know it does not belong to any of those puffed up princes parading through the halls.”

You reached out, squeezing Elara’s hand, then Verra’s, your voice dropping to a shy, trembling whisper.

“It is true,” you confessed, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. “I have given myself to Sir Jeon. Body and heart. He is the only man I have ever wanted. The only one who has ever touched me.”

For a heartbeat, silence fell over the bathing pool. Then came the gasps.

Elara’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. Verra let out a delighted little squeak, nearly dropping the oil vial. Even old Selyse, usually so composed, looked momentarily stunned before her face broke into a warm, knowing smile.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Elara breathed, scandalized, thrilled. “You wicked little thing! With your own knight? Right under the King’s nose?”

Verra giggled uncontrollably, splashing water playfully in your direction. “And here we thought you were simply fond of him! All those late night ‘stargazing’ trips… you minx! Was he gentle? Was he… big?”

“Verra!” Selyse scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She turned to you with motherly affection. “Though I must admit, we have suspected for some time. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching… that man is utterly gone for you, my lady.”

You buried your face in your hands, mortified but unable to stop the shy, giddy smile spreading across your lips. Your gaze drifted across the river to where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard a respectful distance away, half hidden among the willow trees.

Even from here, you could feel the weight of his stare. He stood tall and imposing in his armor, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with a quiet, burning intensity that always made your stomach flutter.

You bit your lip, still flushed from both the warm water and the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body claiming you so thoroughly the night before.

“He is… everything,” you whispered dreamily, more to yourself than the maids. “Strong. Honorable. And when we are alone… he worships me like I am his entire world.”

Verra let out another delighted laugh. “As he should! Our princess deserves nothing less. Though if the King ever finds out…”

Selyse gently squeezed your shoulder, her voice softening with both love and concern.

“Then we will protect your secret as fiercely as we have protected you all these years,” she said. “You deserve to love who you love, my dear. Crown or no crown.”

You looked back at Sir Jungkook again. He hadn’t moved from his post among the willow trees, tall and steadfast in his armor, but your heart ached with a sharp mix of fear and wonder.

If The King ever discovered the truth, he would not spare your knight. Sir Jungkook would be banished, or worse. And you… you would be married off immediately to seal the wound.

The thought disturbed you deeply.

You turned back to the water, forcing a smile for your maids, but the warmth of the bath could no longer chase away the chill settling in your chest.

—

The rumors had begun to spread like fire through the palace corridors.

A lesser knight claimed he had seen “suspicious movement” near the eastern tower. One of the visiting princes mentioned, with a sly smile, that the Princess seemed unusually attached to her personal guard. Nothing concrete, nor proven. But the whispers were growing louder.

Your maids noticed your distraction immediately. During your morning dressing, Verra fastened the laces of your gown with unusually tight pulls, her voice urgent.

“My lady… you must be more careful,” she whispered. “Some of the king’s men have been asking questions about Sir Jeon. They say he spends too many nights away from the barracks. And one of Prince Min’s retainers swears he saw a tall figure slipping into your wing after midnight.”

Elara’s hands paused on your hair. “The knight is being cautious now. He avoids being seen with you as much. But you… you still look at him like he hung the moon. It is only a matter of time before the King hears something he cannot ignore.”

Selyse placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her eyes full of love and worry. “You are playing with fire, sweet girl. And fire does not care how much you love it.”

Your heart clenched with fear. You hadn’t seen your knight alone in a week. He had been deliberately distant, protecting you both by keeping his distance. The absence gnawed at you like hunger.

That night, you sent for him under the pretense of needing extra security for a private walk in the inner courtyard.

The moment the hidden door to your chambers closed behind him, you were on him.

You pushed Sir Jungkook against the wall, frustration and fear pouring out of you in a desperate kiss. Your hands fisted in his tunic, tugging him closer.

“Where have you been?” you demanded between kisses, voice shaking. “I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought my father had already—”

“I’m here,” he whispered against your lips, rough with emotion. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you. “I’m right here, my love.”

But then he pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours. His dark eyes were filled with pain.

“I cannot stay,” he said quietly. The words hit you like a blow. “Your father has ordered me to lead a company to the western borders. There have been reports of raiders. He says it is to prove my devotion to protecting the realm… and you. He also made it clear I can no longer linger so closely around you. The rumors are growing too loud.”

You stared at him, heart shattering.

“No,” you whispered, then louder, “No. You cannot leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”

Tears stung your eyes as the hurt poured out.

“After our first night, you pulled away. You kept your distance like I was poison. And now you’re leaving entirely? What if something happens to you out there? What if I lose you forever? I can’t take it, Jungkook. I won’t survive it.”

Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the straps of his armor with desperate, angry fingers.

“I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about the borders. I only care about you.”

Piece by piece, you stripped him. The armor fell to the floor with heavy clangs until he stood completely bare before you, broad chest, scarred skin, powerful frame looking every bit of the warrior he was. You shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Sir Jungkook’s hands moved instinctively to the laces of your corset, trying to free you fully, but you slapped his hand away, tears already glistening in your eyes.

But the knight was patient. He sat up slowly, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, and gently cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness.

“My love,” he whispered, voice soothing, “Let me worship you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”

He leaned in and captured one of your sensitive breasts in his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue swirled around your stiff nipple, drawing a shaky moan from you. He moved to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and licking until your back arched and fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, this time from overwhelming sensation and emotion.

Holding you close, then gently but firmly, Sir Jungkook leaned back, gripping your hips and guiding you upward. In one rapid motion, he pulled you over his face, settling you directly onto his waiting mouth. Your soaked folds pressed flush against his lips and tongue, your thighs framing his head as he looked up at you with pure hunger.

“Use me,” he growled against your dripping folds, the vibration sending sparks through your core. “Pleasure yourself on my tongue love. I want to drown in you.”

You hesitated for half a second, still shy and nervous, cheeks burning hot even as your body screamed for more. But the frantic ache between your legs won out. You lowered yourself more fully, your slick cunt sliding over his mouth, his nose buried against your clit. He groaned loudly, the sound muffled and obscene as he immediately speared his tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking at your juices like a man starved.

You started moving almost desperately, grinding down with frantic little rocks of your hips. Shyness still flickered in your chest, making you whimper and bite your lip, but the pleasure overrode everything. Your hands braced on the headboard as wet, filthy sounds filled the room, the slick slide of your cunt over his tongue, his eager slurping and moaning, the way he sucked your swollen clit between his lips and flicked it mercilessly.

“Oh gods...” you gasped. Your thighs trembled around his head as you grew bolder, grinding harder, smearing your arousal all over his face. He gripped your cheeks, spreading them, holding you down so you could use him exactly how you needed. His tongue ravished in and out of your dripping hole, then flattened to lap broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, devouring every drop.

But it wasn’t enough.

You lifted off his face with a wet pop, strings of your arousal connecting you to his glistening mouth. His eyes were dark, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. Before he could speak, you slid down his body impatiently.

You straddled his hips, wrapped your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, and sank down onto him in one frantic motion.

The stretch made you cry out, but you didn’t stop. You rode him hard, bouncing on his length with frantic, emotional need, your breasts bouncing heavily with every harsh drop of your hips.

“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed, riding him faster, tears falling onto his chest. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t lose you. Not after this. Not after you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

He thrust up to meet you, matching your desperate rhythm, his strong hands gripping your hips to guide you deeper.

“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice breaking with the same pain. “But I must. Your father commands it. I have to prove my loyalty… so I can stay by your side.”

You leaned down, kissing him messily through your tears, riding him like you could keep him here forever if you just moved fast enough.

“Then stay inside me,” you begged, voice cracking. “Fill me up. So deep that a part of you stays with me even when you’re gone. I want to carry you with me when they try to take you away.”

Sir Jungkook groaned deeply. His hands tightened on your hips as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath his powerful body.

He made love to you then, with deep, devastating strokes that reached the very core of you. His mouth never left your skin, sucking marks into your neck, whispering promises between every thrust.

“You are mine,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling deeply. “I will come back to you. I will fill you again and again until you swell with our future.”

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging desperately as another orgasm built inside you. When it finally crashed over you, you sobbed his name, walls pulsing tightly around his thick cock.

Sir Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a low, guttural groan. He came hard, flooding your womb with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your souls together.

Even after, he stayed buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to your damp forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, small and broken. “I love you too much.”

Sir Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “I know, my love,” he murmured. “And that is why I must return to you. No matter what.”

The weeks following Sir Jungkook’s departure had stretched into an endless gray fog.

You moved through your royal duties like a ghost wearing a crown. You sat through council meetings with a straight spine and a hollow smile, listening to nobles bicker about alliances, trade routes while your mind wandered back to your knight’s strong arms. Every night since, your bed felt too large, too cold. You would press your face into the pillow he had once used and fight the ache in your chest.

You missed him with a desperation that bordered on madness.

This morning was no different. You had barely kept your breakfast down before the maids helped you into a heavy velvet gown the color of deep wine for yet another assembly with potential suitors. The princes and lords from neighboring kingdoms were growing impatient. Your coronation was only a month away, and the pressure to choose a consort was mounting like a noose around your throat.

By midday, the nausea returned with a vengeance. You barely made it through the formal greetings before excusing yourself to the private solar, hand pressed to your mouth.

Elara followed quickly with a basin. You retched violently into it, eyes watering.

“Your Highness…” she whispered, rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“I’m fine,” you rasped, waving her away. “Just… something I ate.”

But it wasn’t.

Later that evening, after the day’s obligations were finally over, Vera and Selyse insisted on the usual massage to ease the tension in your shoulders. They helped you out of your gown until you lay on the wide cushioned table in nothing but a thin silk shift.

The moment Selyse’s skilled hands moved over your breasts, the older maid froze.

Verra, who was working on your legs, also stilled.

“…Your Highness,” Selyse said carefully, “Your breasts… they are fuller. Tender, yes?”

Your breath hitched. You had noticed it days ago but had tried to ignore the swelling, the sensitivity. The way even the softest fabric sometimes made you wince.

Verra’s hands gently pressed against your lower belly, not quite a touch, more an assessment. “And the sickness every morning… the fatigue… the way you’ve been crying in your chambers…”

Your eyes filled with tears. You turned your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking.

Selyse knelt beside the table, taking your hand gently. “My lady… are you with a child?”

You didn’t answer at first. Then a broken sob escaped you.

“I think so,” you whispered. “I… I don’t know for certain, but the timing…” Your voice cracked. “It would be his. Sir Jungkook’s.”

Both maids exchanged a heavy glance. This changed everything.

Verra spoke softly, “My lady... with your coronation approaching. The lords are already circling like vultures, pushing their sons at you. If this comes out before you choose a prince…”

“I know,” you said, voice muffled. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I know what it means. But I can’t… I can’t just marry one of them. Not when I’m carrying the child of the only man I’ve ever loved.”

You sat up slowly, clutching the silk shift to your chest, arms wrapped protectively around your still flat stomach.

“My dear knight...” you sniffled. “He is out there fighting gods-know-what, and I’m here pretending to be the perfect princess while my body betrays our secret.”

Selyse brushed a strand of hair from your face with motherly tenderness. “We can hide it a little longer, Highness. Looser gowns. Ginger tea for the sickness. But you must decide soon what path you will take. The child… it will not stay hidden forever.”

You nodded, but your heart was breaking all over again. The thought of choosing one of those cold, ambitious princes while carrying Sir Jungkook’s child made you feel ill all over again.

Selyse pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice firm with loyalty. “We pray he returns soon, my lady. And until then, we will guard you and this little one with our lives.”

—

The weeks blurred into months as winter settled over the kingdom like a heavy white shroud. Snow blanketed the towers and gardens, turning the world soft and silent, yet inside your chest, the storm only grew louder.

Sir Jeon Jungkook had not returned.

Your belly had swelled noticeably now, a gentle but undeniable curve that marked the life growing within you. With the help of Elara, Verra, and Selyse, you hid it beneath layers of loose, flowing gowns and heavy cloaks lined with fur.

The rich fabrics concealed the truth for now, but you could no longer ignore the way your body changed, the tender fullness of your breasts, the occasional flutter of movement beneath your skin, and the constant, bone deep exhaustion.

You had begun excusing yourself from the suitors’ assemblies more frequently, claiming headaches or matters of state. But the King, grew increasingly impatient.

In the grand throne room one frost laced afternoon, he fixed you with a stern gaze as snow fell outside the tall windows. “You cannot delay any longer, daughter,” he spoke, heavy with royal command. “Prince Min of Viena is a strong candidate. The coronation is weeks away. You must choose a consort soon. The realm needs stability.”

You bowed your head, hands clasped tightly over your hidden belly beneath the voluminous velvet. “Yes, Father,” you murmured, the lie tasting like ash. Inside, your heart screamed for the only man you wanted.

Every few days, with your maids’ help, you sent letters. Verra would sneak them to a trusted rider, sealed with your private wax. You poured your soul onto the parchment; how much you missed him, the way your body was changing, the secret you carried, your love that only deepened with every passing day. Yet no responses ever came. The silence gnawed at you, feeding nightmares of him lying wounded on some distant battlefield or worse.

The worry became unbearable.

One bitter winter morning, wrapped in a thick hooded cloak that concealed your swollen middle, you slipped away from the castle with only Elara and Selyse accompanying you. The three of you rode through the snow dusted forest to a modest stone cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom, the home where Sir Jungkook had grown up.

When the door opened, an older woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her dark hair stood before you. Sir Jungkook’s mother. She froze at the sight of the princess on her doorstep, her hand flying to her chest.

“Your Highness…?” she whispered, stunned. “Surely I do not deserve to be blessed with your presence at my humble door. Please, come inside before the cold takes you.”

She ushered you, Elara, and Selyse quickly into the warm cottage, the scent of pinewood and baking bread wrapping around you like an embrace. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as she helped you remove your snow dusted cloak. Only when you were seated by the fire did her gaze drop to the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath the loose gown.

You took a steadying breath, your hands resting protectively over your rounded stomach.

“I carry his child,” you said softly, trembling with emotion. “Your son’s. Sir Jungkook’s. He does not know yet… he has not returned, and I… I needed to feel close to him somehow.”

Jungkook’s mother, Maera, stood completely still for a long moment, her eyes wide with shock. Then her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh… gods above,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “A grandchild…? From my Jungkook?” Fresh tears flowed freely as she dropped to her knees in front of you, taking your hands in hers with deep reverence. “My lady… my princess. You honor me beyond words. You honor my son. To think that you, a royal daughter, would carry his child… I am stunned. Truly stunned. And so deeply moved.”

She pressed her forehead to your knuckles, weeping quietly with pure joy and emotion. When she lifted her head again, her eyes shone with fierce affection.

“You are already family to me,” she whispered. “Come here, sweet child.” She rose and pulled you into a warm embrace, cradling you gently as if you were made of glass. “You must be so frightened, carrying this secret alone while he is away. But you are not alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.”

You felt safe in her arms, the weight on your heart easing just a little as winter wind howled softly outside the cottage walls.

After composing herself, Maera wiped her tears and fetched a small wooden chest from a shelf. She sat beside you, opening it with trembling hands.

“Look,” she said tenderly, pulling out several treasured items. She showed you a faded sketch of a chubby baby with dark, serious eyes —Sir Jungkook as an infant. Another portrait showed him as a sturdy little boy of four, holding a wooden sword with determination. There was even a lock of his soft baby hair tied with a ribbon.

“He was always so intense, even as a babe,” she said with a watery laugh. “Strong and quiet… but when he smiled, the whole world lit up. Just like I imagine your little one will.”

You traced the portraits with gentle fingers, tears slipping down your own cheeks. Seeing these glimpses of him as a child made your love for the knight swell even deeper. You could so clearly picture your baby with his eyes, his strength, his rare smile. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and longing.

Maera kept one hand over yours, cherishing you openly. “Thank you for coming to me,” she murmured. “For trusting me with this precious news. We will wait for him together, my daughter. And when he returns, he will be the happiest man alive.”

The two of you sat by the fire for a long while — his mother and the mother of his child, talking softly as snow continued to fall outside, bound by love for the same man.

The days after your visit to Maera’s cottage only deepened the ache in your soul. Winter grew harsher, and so did your impatience. Every morning you woke with your hands on your swelling belly, feeling the strong kicks of his child, and the longing became unbearable.

One evening in the royal chambers, you fell to your knees before the King, tears streaming down your face. “Father, please… I beg you. Bring Sir Jungkook back. I need him. I cannot do this without him.”

The King frowned, confused by your desperation. “Daughter, he is leading my forces on the border. The realm needs him there. Why this sudden insistence on one knight?”

You could not tell him the truth. “I just… need him,” you whispered brokenly. “Please.”

He did not relent. The pressure to choose a suitor only intensified.

And then the sickness took hold.

Your body ached constantly. deep soreness in your back, hips, and breasts that made every movement painful. The baby’s kicks, once a comfort, now left you breathless. You grew feverish and weak.

Elara, Verra, and Selyse rarely left your side, forcing herbal teas and bitter medicines down your throat while piling warm blankets over you. For nearly a week you were bedridden, barely able to leave your chambers, hidden away from the court under the excuse of a winter chill.

One cold, silent night, as snow tapped gently against the window panes, you drifted in and out of a fevered haze. The herbs made the world soft and blurry around the edges.

You thought it was a dream when the heavy door to your chambers opened with a quiet creak and a tall, familiar figure stepped inside, shedding his snow dusted cloak. The firelight caught on his sharp jawline and those intense dark eyes.

Strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you carefully as he climbed into your grand bed. A warm, calloused hand gently cradled your swollen belly. You felt the press of soft, reverent lips against the curve of your stomach.

“My love…” The knight’s deep voice whispered against your skin, rough with emotion. “I’m here. I finally came back to you.”

“Jungkook…?” you murmured drowsily, eyelids heavy, unsure if this was real or another cruel dream born of longing and medicine.

“It’s me,” he breathed, pulling your body flush against his solid chest. He was real. warm, solid, smelling of snow, leather, and the faint scent of campfires. “I’ve been aching for you every single day. Your touch, your voice… it kept me alive out there.”

His large hand stroked slow, soothing circles over your rounded belly, feeling the baby shift and kick beneath his palm. He lowered his head, pressing his lips directly to the taut skin.

You let out a tired, broken sound. “You left me… You promised you’d come back sooner. Look at me… I’m so sore, so heavy with your child, and you weren’t here…”

Sir Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound warm against your skin, even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, my princess. I deserve your scolding. I’m deeply sorry.” He kissed your belly again and again, soft open mouthed presses wherever he could reach. Then he trailed his lips higher, attaching his mouth gently to the swollen, aching curve of your breasts, sucking lightly and kissing away the soreness with such care that you whimpered in relief.

His hands never stopped moving, massaging the deep ache in your lower back, cupping and gently holding your heavy breasts to ease their weight, stroking your hips and thighs. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly as if afraid you might vanish.

“You are unreal, my love.” he murmured, voice hoarse with awe as he looked at you. “Your glow… it’s deeper now. The way pregnancy has changed you… you’re beyond anything I could have imagined. You shine like starlight. Carrying our child has only made you more radiant, more mine.”

You clung to him weakly, drowsy but desperate for his touch. “The baby… it kicks so much. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl… but it feels like you. Strong and stubborn.”

Jungkook smiled against your temple, one hand still resting warmly over your belly. “This child is the product of our love. A piece of both of us. I already love them more than life.” He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring months of aching into it. “Every battle, every cold night, I thought only of coming home to you like this… holding you, feeling our baby move, worshipping the body that’s creating our future.”

He continued kissing every place that ached... the sides of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the inside of your wrist, his mouth soft and devoted. You melted into him, the pain easing under his gentle care as he held you close.

“Stay…” you whispered tiredly, already slipping back into sleep.

“I’m here right now,” he promised, lips brushing your ear. “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you both.”

When morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, you woke slowly, body still aching but strangely comforted.

The bed beside you was cold. No warmth lingered. No cloak on the chair. No scent of him on the pillows. Only the faint memory of strong hands, whispered words to your belly, and soft kisses remained.

You touched your swollen stomach, feeling another firm kick, and tears filled your eyes.

Was it a dream? A fevered hallucination woven from medicine, longing, and love? Or had Sir Jungkook truly returned to you in the dead of night… only to disappear again before dawn?

The herbs and medicines your maids prepared worked their magic. The fever finally broke, the deep soreness in your body eased into a manageable ache, and the constant nausea faded. Though you were still tired, your strength slowly returned. Your belly continued to grow rounder and heavier, the baby’s kicks becoming more insistent and lively.

One quiet winter evening, when the moon hung full over the snow covered palace, your maids turned your chambers into a secret sanctuary.

Accompanied by Sir Jungkook’s mother, they had worked together in absolute secrecy. No one outside your trusted circle knew. They had decorated the large private solar adjacent to your bedroom with soft candlelight, evergreen boughs, and winter white roses. Warm furs and silk pillows were arranged in a luxurious nest near the hearth. Incense of myrrh filled the air, and a small table held gifts wrapped in fine cloth.

They helped you into a loose, flowing gown of the softest ivory silk that draped beautifully over your swollen belly, leaving your shoulders bare. When you stepped into the room, all four women bowed their heads in reverence.

Selyse took your hand and guided you to the center of the soft pillows. “Tonight we celebrate you, my lady. And the precious life you carry. No one else will know of this blessing. It is ours alone.”

They treated you with deep adoration, as though you were sacred.

Elara gently massaged your feet with warm scented oil while Maera brushed your hair until it shone. Verra offered you sweet honeyed fruits and warm spiced milk, foods meant to nourish both you and the baby. Selyse laid her hands lightly on your rounded belly and spoke soft blessings for a safe birth and a strong child.

Selyse, ever wise, placed a small crown of dried herbs and winter berries on your head. “You are the vessel of love and life,” she murmured. “Even in these uncertain times, you bloom. We honor you as our princess… and as the mother of Sir Jungkook’s heir.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as they presented their secret gifts: tiny embroidered blankets, a soft knitted cap in deep green, a small silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a symbol of motherhood.

Vera leaned her cheek against your belly for a moment, grinning when the baby kicked in response. “He or she is strong already. Just like their father.”

You placed both hands over your swollen stomach, feeling another firm flutter. The warmth of their love and the secret celebration soothed the constant ache of missing your knight.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “All of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Elara kissed your temple. “We will keep you and this little one safe until Sir Jungkook returns. And he will return.”

The warmth of the secret celebration lingered on your skin as you returned to your chambers that night. The maids had just helped you out of the ivory silk gown when a royal messenger knocked urgently.

“The King demands your presence immediately, Your Highness. In his private study.”

You had no time to prepare. Still glowing from the love and blessings of your maids, you wrapped yourself in a heavy velvet robe that concealed your very swollen belly and followed the messenger.

The moment you entered the study, the atmosphere turned icy. Your father stood behind his desk, several of your letters spread before him.

“Daughter,” he spoke, controlled. “I have given you time to come to me yourself. I know you have been sending letters to the front lines. To Sir Jungkook, specifically.” He turned to face you, his expression stern but not yet furious. “I know of your… admiration for him. Speak truthfully now. What is this attachment?”

Your throat tightened. This was the moment. With your belly heavy with his child and your heart aching, you could no longer hide everything.

“Father…” you began, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “It is more than admiration. I love him. Sir Jungkook is the only man I want.” Your hands instinctively moved to cradle your stomach. “And I… I am carrying his child.”

Silence crashed over the room.

The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed sharply as his gaze dropped to the unmistakable swell beneath your gown. His face darkened with shock, then rage.

“You what?” he hissed. “A knight’s bastard? While I have been parading princes before you? While the entire realm waits for you to secure the throne with a proper alliance?”

“Father, please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. “It is his. Our love is real. If you would only let him return, we could—”

The King’s face twisted with fury. “You dare speak such filth to me? A royal princess swollen with a common knight’s bastard?”

You rebelled, voice shaking but defiant. “It is not filth. It is love. I will not marry Prince Min. I will not let you use me as a pawn for alliances while I carry the man I love’s child.”

“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table, making you flinch. “I have been patient with your childish infatuation, but this is treason against your bloodline. You will do as you are told! Your fate is sealed. You will marry Prince Min before the month ends.”

Later that same night, before your maids could even calm you, you found your most trusted rider in the stables. With tears streaming down your face and snow falling around you, you whispered your final message: “Tell him… tell Sir Jungkook that I will wait for him. No matter how long it takes. My heart is his alone. I will wait.”

The rider bowed and galloped into the night. No response ever came.

The next weeks were a nightmare.

Prince Min visited often, his eyes raking over your body with open lust and infatuation. He complimented your “ethereal glow”, clearly aroused by your pregnant form, but his arrogance disgusted you. He spoke openly of claiming the throne through you, of bedding you the moment you were his. You hated him with every fiber of your being.

You fought your father harder than ever, refusing to attend meetings with Prince Min, screaming that you would rather die than marry him. But the King had reached his limit.

One brutal afternoon, he summoned you again and placed a bloodied cloak and a forged letter before you.

“Sir Jeon Jungkook is dead,” he said flatly. “He fell in battle two weeks ago. This is proof.”

The world shattered.

You collapsed to the floor, a guttural sob tearing from your throat. The baby inside you kicked as if sensing your pain. From that moment, you broke completely.

You refused to eat. You barely slept. You stopped speaking, even to Elara, Verra, and Selyse who begged you through tears to think of the child. You lay in bed for days, staring at nothing, your once radiant glow fading into pale exhaustion. Your maids feared for both your life and the baby’s.

Despite how numb you had become, when your maids gently suggested taking you to Maera’s quiet home on the edge of the forest, you agreed without protest. You were taken there in secret under the cover of night.

Maera, a strong but grieving woman with the same dark eyes as her son, took you in without question. She cared for you with quiet hands and even quieter words. You didn’t speak much to her either, but you accepted her care wholeheartedly. After all, she was mourning the loss of her son, and you were mourning the loss of your lover and the father of your child.

The King, despite his fury, still sent guards to watch over you from a distance. You were still royalty, still carrying what he believed might be his grandchild. But you could only think of the protection you once had... the strongest, safest pair of arms that had ever wrapped around you.

You mourned deeply. But you couldn’t be completely selfish with a baby on the way, restless and eager to come into the world.

The labor came on a stormy night.

The pains started suddenly and violently. Maera and your maids worked frantically around you as you screamed and cried, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. The King himself had ridden out in secret when he heard you had gone into labor, standing outside the cottage with a face pale with rare fear.

He didn’t know how to comfort you. He only knew one thing, his daughter was calling for her knight in her delirium.

Even though he viewed the child as the product of a sinful affair, something in him softened at the sound of your broken sobs. He could not lose you.

Inside the cottage, you gave birth to a baby girl.

She was small, chubby, with a shock of raven hair and big, dark eyes that looked exactly like her father’s. The moment the midwife placed her on your chest, fresh tears streamed down your face.

“She looks like him…” you whispered, hoarse and broken. “My little love… she has his eyes.”

You held her close, sobbing softly as the pain and grief mixed with a fragile, overwhelming love. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop crying. You believed Sir Jungkook was dead. The thought that your daughter would never know her father tore you apart.

Maera wept beside you, gently stroking your hair. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Just like her mother.”

Outside, the King stood in the rain, waiting.

When the door finally opened and the midwife stepped out, he demanded to know if you and the child were alive. Upon hearing they both were, something in his hardened heart shifted.

He turned to his captain without a word and gave the order.

“Send riders to the western borders at once. Bring Sir Jeon Jungkook back. Tell him… his princess has need of him.”

It would take time. The borders were far, and the roads were muddy from the storms. A week, perhaps a month.

In the quiet warmth of the cottage, you held your newborn daughter against your chest, wrapped in soft linen.

You rocked her gently as she fussed against your breast, nursing hungrily. Your maids and Maera moved around you, bringing broth, fresh cloths, and ever soft words. But you barely spoke. The grief had hollowed you out.

“I wish you could meet your father,” you whispered to the baby one quiet night, voice cracking. Tears slipped down your cheeks as she latched on again. “He would have held you so carefully. He would have loved you more than anything in this world. He would have protected us both…”

Maera sat beside you, her own eyes red from mourning. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would have been so proud,” she said softly. “Of both of you.”

You could only nod, throat too tight to speak. The emptiness inside you felt endless. Every time the baby cried, every time she looked up at you with those familiar dark eyes, the pain returned like a fresh wound.

The King demanded your return to the palace, as you were still royalty, still bound to your father’s will despite carrying a child out of wedlock. He wrote letter after letter insisting you resume your duties and prepare for the inevitable marriage to Prince Min. You refused to answer most of them.

Your maids tried their best to comfort you, but even they could not reach the depths of your sorrow. The only light in your world was your daughter. Tiny, perfect, with Jungkook’s dark eyes and a tuft of raven hair. You held her constantly, whispering stories about her father, singing lullabies with a voice that often broke halfway through.

You mourned him deeply. The King had not even granted him a proper funeral. No rites. No chance to say goodbye. Just a bloodied cloak and a cold declaration.

One quiet evening, Maera left the cottage to fetch groceries from the nearby village. Your maids had been called back to the palace on the King’s orders, duties they could not refuse. For the first time in weeks, it was just you and your baby in the small, warm cottage.

You sat by the window, cradling her in your arms. She cooed softly, tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you gently rocked her. For a few precious minutes, you allowed yourself to smile a real, soft smile as you played with her little hands and kissed her forehead.

“My baby,” you whispered, “The loveliest babe. Don’t tell the queens and princesses, I think they’d be terribly jealous.”

The baby blinked up at you. “Oh, yes,” you continued solemnly. “Especially of those cheeks.”

You leaned back in the chair as exhaustion eventually won over you, your eyes growing heavy. With your daughter nestled safely against your chest, sleep claimed you quickly.

When you woke, the cottage was awfully quiet.

Your arms were empty.

Panic slammed into you like a physical blow. You shot upright, heart hammering wildly as you looked around the room.

The baby was gone.

“No… no, no, no...” you gasped, stumbling to your feet, voice rising into a broken sob. “Where is my baby?!”

You searched frantically, under the blankets, behind the chairs, near the hearth, terror clawing at your throat. Your mind spun with nightmarish possibilities. Had someone taken her? Had the King sent men to steal her away?

Then you saw him.

A tall figure standing near the doorway, cradling your daughter gently in his strong arms. She was sleeping peacefully against his chest, tiny fist curled into his tunic.

Your knees buckled.

It was Sir Jungkook.

He looked exhausted, travel worn, mud on his boots, shadows under his eyes, but he was alive. Real. His dark eyes met yours, filled with unbearable love and pain.

You stared at him, trembling violently, refusing to believe what you were seeing.

“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, this isn’t real. You’re dead. They told me you were dead. This is another dream. You always come in my dreams and then you leave me again—”

Your voice cracked into a sob as you backed away, hands clutching your chest.

“You left me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You left me and our child. I mourned you. I almost died mourning you. Please… don’t do this to me again. I can’t take another dream. I can’t wake up to find you gone again.”

Sir Jungkook’s face crumpled with anguish. He took one careful step forward, still cradling your daughter like the most precious thing in the world.

“My love,” he said hoarsely, voice breaking. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. Your father… he lied. He sent me away to the borders to keep me from you. But I came back the moment he allowed it. I rode without stopping.”

You shook your head harder, tears falling faster, refusing to believe it even as your heart screamed at you to run to him.

“You’re dead,” you repeated, voice small and shattered. “You have to be dead… because if you’re not, then you let me believe it. You never answered my letters. Not one. I wrote to you every single day, pouring my heart out, begging you to come back to me, to our child… and you never...”

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as the pain twisted deeper.

“You were in on it, weren’t you?” you whispered, voice breaking. “You let my father tell me you were gone. You left me here to rot in grief while I carried your child alone. How could you?”

The knight’s face crumpled with agony. He took a step forward, but you flinched, and he stopped immediately, hands trembling at his sides.

Before he could speak, your daughter stirred in his arms. As if sensing the suffocating tension in the room, she let out a sharp, hungry cry, her little lips puckering, tiny fists waving.

You moved without thinking, reaching for her. Sir Jungkook gently handed her over, his hands lingering for a moment as if afraid to let go. You turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and loosening your dress to feed her. The baby latched on eagerly, her cries softening into small, contented sounds.

The knight stood there, watching you in silence. He looked lost, this battle-hardened soldier, returned from war, now completely unsure how to comfort the woman he loved. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in the middle of the room, head bowed.

“I wrote to you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every chance I had. Your father… he made sure none of my letters reached you. He wanted you to believe I was gone. I fought every day to come back to you. I almost died trying to get word to you.”

You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes on your daughter, tears falling silently onto her soft hair.

“I mourned you like a widow,” you whispered, voice thick with pain. “I almost died. And now you’re here… acting like you didn’t abandon me when I needed you most.”

The words cut awfully deep. Sir Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, but he stayed on his knees, silent and respectful, giving you the space your wounded heart demanded.

Your daughter stirred in your arms, letting out a small, distressed whimper as if she could sense the storm raging between her parents. You rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her soft raven hair.

“Shh, my sweet one,” you cooed softly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”

Sir Jungkook’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, to touch you, to hold both of you, but he remained still, jaw clenched tight. He was no longer in full armor, only a worn tunic and breeches, his appearance shambled from the long ride, fresh bruises blooming across his knuckles and jaw.

You turned away from him, focusing on the small tasks that had become your life in the cottage. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the roof like a relentless drum.

You moved about the space, stirring the pot of stew over the fire, folding fresh linens, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from breaking completely.

Hours passed in heavy silence. When your daughter finally grew fussy again, you nursed her by the hearth until her little eyes fluttered shut. You laid her gently in the wooden cradle Maera had prepared, stroking her cheek one last time before covering her with a soft blanket.

Only then did you notice movement near the door.

Sir Jungkook was standing there, cloak in hand, quietly preparing to leave.

Something inside you fractured. You stepped toward him, voice cracking. “You’re leaving again?”

He turned slowly, eyes filled with torment. “I was only going to check the perimeter. The rain is heavy, and I… I didn’t want to burden you further.”

You stared at him, this warrior who had survived hell just to return to you, and the dam finally broke.

“Come here,” you whispered.

He obeyed without hesitation.

You led him to your bed and with trembling hands, you began removing his tunic, revealing the damage the war had left behind.

New bruises painted his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Fresh scars, still healing, cut across his chest and abdomen. He looked harder, a man who had walked through fire and barely returned.

Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to stay steady. You turned away briefly, gathering clean linen strips, salve, and a bowl of warm water. When you returned, the knight stood perfectly still, letting you see all of him, the bruises, the brutal evidence of everything he had endured just to return to you.

You began tending to him in silence, your hands gentle as you cleaned a particularly nasty cut along his side. But the more you looked, the more the dam inside you cracked.

“What have they done to you, Jungkook?” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you carefully wrapped a bandage around his ribs. “You’re… you’re covered in pain. All of this… just to come back to me?”

He stood motionless, letting you care for him, but his dark eyes never left your face.

“I would go through it a thousand times more,” he said softly, “if it meant coming back to you and our daughter.”

You shook your head, fresh tears falling as you pressed a bandage over another wound. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I can’t bear thinking of you suffering like this. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, and now you’re here… broken because of me.”

Sir Jungkook slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you, even though you were still trying to tend to him. The powerful knight, the man who had survived war, knelt before you like the loyal protector he had always been.

“Your Highness,” he murmured, head slightly bowed, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I wasn’t here when you carried our child. I wasn’t here when you gave birth. I wasn’t here when they told you I was gone. Forgive me.”

You dropped the bandages and pulled him into your arms, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, clinging to you like a man who had almost lost everything.

A broken sob tore from his throat.

Your knight, your warrior, the strongest person you had ever known, cried against your chest like a child. Deep, shuddering sobs that shook his powerful frame as his arms tightened around you.

“I thought I lost you,” he choked out, voice muffled against your skin. “Every night on the border, I prayed I would make it back to you. To both of you.”

You held him tighter, fingers threading through his raven hair, your own tears falling onto his head.

“You’re here now,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re here. You came back to us. That’s all that matters.”

For a long time, the only sounds in the cottage were the rain outside, the crackling fire, and the quiet, heartbroken sobs of a knight who had finally returned to his princess.

—

The rain had not eased by the middle of the night. It hammered against the thatched roof like an impatient army. You had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms on the narrow bed, your daughter nestled safely in her cradle beside you. For the first time in months, your sleep was deep and dreamless.

A sharp knock on the cottage door shattered the peace.

Sir Jungkook was awake in an instant. He slipped from the bed silently, pulling on his tunic and reaching for the sword he had left by the door. His body was still tense from war, every muscle ready for threat.

“Stay here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I will see who it is.”

But you already knew.

A cold certainty settled in your chest. You rose, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, and followed him despite his warning. Your daughter stirred but remained asleep.

Sir Jungkook opened the door, sword half drawn, rain pouring behind the figure standing outside.

It was the King.

Your father stood in the downpour, cloak heavy with water, face pale and drawn. Guards waited at a respectful distance, torches flickering weakly in the storm. His eyes moved past your knight and landed on you.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then the King stepped inside without invitation, water dripping onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened when it fell on you — his only daughter, still pale from childbirth, carrying the weight of grief and motherhood.

“My child,” he said, voice rough. “You must return to the palace. You are still royalty. Still my blood. You do not belong in a cottage like this.”

You stood straighter, even as exhaustion and lingering pain made your body ache.

“I belong where I choose,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “And I will not return without Sir Jeon. He is my knight. He is the father of my daughter. He stays with me.”

The King’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jungkook, who stood tall and silent beside you, sword now lowered but ready.

“I know what you are to each other,” the King said heavily. “I have known for some time. Prince Min is a fool and a coward, but his bloodline is strong. The alliance—”

“I will not marry him,” you cut in, voice steady despite the tears gathering in your eyes. “I will return to the palace. I will perform my duties as princess, as future queen. I will be the ruler this kingdom needs. But only if Sir Jungkook remains at my side. As my knight. As the man I have chosen. As the only man with any right to me.”

The King looked at you for a long time. He saw the woman you had become, not just his rebellious daughter, but a figure of quiet strength. The people in the surrounding villages spoke of you with reverence. They told stories of the princess who helped common women, shared food during hard winters, who listened to their troubles as if they mattered as much as any noble’s.

The King exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken.

“Very well,” he said at last. “Sir Jeon will return with you. He will remain your personal knight. But this… affair… must remain hidden from the court. For now.”

You nodded once, relief flooding through you.

The King’s gaze drifted to the cradle where your daughter slept. He had not yet seen her. You had kept her away from him, protecting her with every fiber of your being.

He took one hesitant step toward the cradle, then stopped, as if afraid.

The King’s shoulders sagged. For the first time in years, he looked truly old.

“Bring her home,” he said quietly. “Both of you. We will find a way.”

When the heavy door of the cottage finally closed behind your father, you let out a huge, shaky sigh. The weight of the conversation pressed on your chest like a stone. You turned and walked to the cradle, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She stirred but settled quickly against your chest.

Sir Jungkook followed silently behind you, his presence warm.

“I would not trust him,” you whispered, voice laced with bitterness. “My father lied. He did all of this, told me you were dead, kept us apart, made me believe I had lost you forever. How can I believe a single word he says now?”

Jungkook stepped closer. He gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head as you held your daughter.

“Petal,” he murmured softly, the old endearment slipping out like a balm. “Your father is a hard man, but he is not as cold as he pretends to be. He sent for me the moment he learned you had gone into labor. He could have kept me away forever. But he didn’t.”

You turned slightly in his arms, eyes wide with disbelief.

The knight continued, low and calm.

“There was one night… when you were still heavy with our child and very sick. I rode through a storm to reach you. Your father allowed it. He let me see you. I held you while you slept, fevered and restless. I whispered to you. I kissed your forehead and promised I would return. But I had to leave before dawn. He made me swear not to wake you. He said it would only make the pain worse when I had to go back to the borders.”

You stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up again.

“That night… it was real?” you whispered. “I thought it was a dream. I thought I imagined your arms around me.”

“It was real,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was there. And I have regretted leaving you every single day since.”

You turned fully toward him, still cradling your daughter. The baby had woken and was fussing softly. You loosened your dress and began to feed her.

Sir Jungkook watched the two of you with such open love and longing that it made your chest ache.

“She has your eyes,” you said softly, brushing a finger over your daughter’s cheek. “So dark and beautiful. Just like yours.”

Sir Jungkook’s expression softened further. He reached out, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand.

“And she is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. “I hope she grows to be as strong as her. As kind. As full of fire and love.”

For a while, the only sounds were the soft suckling of your daughter and the rain pattering against the roof. Sir Jungkook stayed close, one arm around your waist, the other lightly resting near the baby.

Eventually, after your daughter had fallen asleep again, you made the decision.

“We will return to the palace,” you said quietly. “Together. As a family. I will not hide anymore.”

The next morning, after tender farewells to Maera, who hugged you both tightly and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead with tears in her eyes, you left the cottage.

—

Three Months Later,

The palace had transformed around you.

After your return, the finest healers in the realm were summoned, learned men and women versed in herbs and ancient remedies. They tended to you with the utmost care, restoring the strength you had lost in grief and childbirth. Slowly, the hollow exhaustion faded. Color returned to your cheeks. Your body healed, and with it, your spirit bloomed once more.

You were treated not merely as royalty, but as something sacred. The people whispered that the Princess had returned more radiant than before, as if the earth itself had blessed her.

Your maids, Elara, Verra, and Selyse, were beyond ecstatic to have you back. They fussed over you constantly, brushing your long hair until it shone, dressing you in the finest silks, and whispering prayers of gratitude for your safe return.

The kingdom now knew the truth: the child was Sir Jeon Jungkook’s. The scandal had spread like wildfire, but instead of outrage, most of the people embraced it. They saw their princess glowing, and fiercely protected.

Prince Min had tried to slander you upon his return, calling you impure, unfit, a disgrace for bearing a knight’s child out of wedlock. Sir Jungkook had nearly killed him in the great hall before the King’s guards pulled him back. Prince Min was expelled from the kingdom that very day, the alliance shattered. No one mourned his departure.

It was a warm evening when you returned to the royal bathing pool, surrounded by floating lily pads and fragrant white blossoms. The water shimmered under the sunlight as your maids helped you undress. Your daughter, now three months old and full of life, babbled happily in Elara’s arms, reaching for you with chubby little hands.

“Come here, my sweet,” you cooed, taking her into the warm water with you. She immediately nestled against your bare chest, tiny fingers grasping at your long, wavy hair as you gently rocked her. She was a needy little thing, always wanting her mother’s warmth, her scent, her voice.

Verra smiled as she poured scented oil over your shoulders. “She adores you, my lady. Look at those big, bejeweled eyes.”

You glanced toward the far bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, as always. He was no longer forced to hide. He remained your personal knight, ever watchful and devoted. His gaze met yours across the water, soft with love and quiet pride. He had become even more protective since your return, rarely leaving your side unless duty demanded it.

The King had grown strangely silent on the matter of your relationship. Seeing you flourish and beloved by the people, had turned him into something of a coward when it came to opposing you.

He doted on his granddaughter in private, though he still struggled to fully accept the circumstances. Yet he no longer pushed for any other marriage. He had seen what happened when he tried to separate you from your knight.

Bit by bit, your beauty had deepened into something almost otherworldly, skin luminous, eyes bright with life, a gentle fullness to your figure from motherhood that only made you more captivating. You moved through the palace performing your duties with grace while still finding time to help the common women who came to the gates seeking aid. You had become more than a princess.

At night, when the palace slept, Sir Jungkook was yours completely.

He would slip into your chambers, shed his armor, and worship you with slow hands and mouth. He made love to you like a man who had walked through hell and returned only for this. You clung to him every night, whispering how much you loved him, how you had chosen him long before the crown ever mattered.

Your daughter babbled softly, pulling at your long hair again with her tiny fist, drawing a soft, delighted laugh from you.

“Oh, my little one,” you cooed, gently untangling her fingers from your waves before pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “You are going to pull Mama’s hair right off if you keep that up, aren’t you? Such a strong little flower.”

She giggled in your arms, reaching up to pat your face with her small, uncoordinated hand, her big dark eyes, exact replicas of her father’s, sparkling with pure joy. The resemblance was almost startling even at such a young age. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Elara sighed dreamily as she poured warm water over your shoulders. “Look at her, my lady. She is perfection. She already has the whole palace wrapped around her tiny finger.”

Verra nodded, gently massaging oil into your hair. “And you, my princess. You glow like the sun itself these days. Motherhood suits you more than any crown ever could.”

Selyse, ever the wise one, glanced toward the bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, fully armored but with his helmet removed today. A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips.

“And that one over there… he can’t take his eyes off the two of you. Look at him, standing there like a lovesick fool in steel. Our fierce knight, brought to his knees by a baby and her mother.”

The knight’s ears turned faintly red, but he didn’t deny it. His gaze remained soft, locked on you and your daughter with quiet awe and devotion.

Later that evening, in the royal rose gardens where he had once walked beside you as your new knight, Sir Jungkook carried your daughter in his arms.

He was still in full armor, crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but he held her with such careful gentleness it made your heart melt. The baby was dressed in the softest cream colored gown embroidered with tiny golden flowers, a little bonnet tied under her chin. She looked like a living doll against his armored chest.

She reached up with both hands, grabbing at the edge of his armor, babbling excitedly as she tried to pull herself closer to his face. When he leaned down, she patted his cheek with a wet, sloppy kiss.

Sir Jungkook’s entire expression softened into something almost boyish. He smiled, genuine and devastatingly handsome.

“My little love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

You walked beside them, heart full as you watched your daughter play with the buckles on his armor. Every time he lowered his head to let her see his face, she lit up. But when he playfully put his helmet back on for a moment to tease her, she immediately fussed, letting out a small, indignant cry and reaching for him with both arms.

“No helmet,” you laughed softly. “She hates it. She wants to see her father’s face.”

Sir Jungkook removed it immediately, tucking it under one arm while cradling her with the other. He leaned down so she could press her tiny palms against his cheeks and give him another sloppy kiss on the jaw.

The maids watching from a distance cooed and teased him lightly.

“Look at that,” Verra whispered loudly enough for him to hear. “Who would have thought the man who survived the western borders would be brought down by tiny hands and gummy smiles?”

Later that night, the heavy oak door to your royal chambers was barred, only the soft glow of candles and the low fire in the hearth illuminated the room.

You stood before the tall mirror, slowly changing into your nightgown. The fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your body. Your gaze caught on the beautiful ring on your finger, the one Sir Jungkook had slipped onto your hand in secret weeks ago, a quiet promise between the two of you. You turned it gently, a small, private smile touching your lips.

Your daughter lay nestled against your bare chest, warm and content, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of your loosened gown. She babbled softly, her big dark eyes full of adoration for her mother.

Sir Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, fully armored except for his helmet, watching the two of you with quiet awe. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every healed scar and the lingering shadows of war that still clung to him.

You gently laid your daughter in her ornate cradle, pressing one last kiss to her forehead as she drifted into sleep. Then you returned to the mirror, picking up the silver brush to run it through your long, wavy hair.

Sir Jungkook followed without a word. He stopped behind you, his large hands resting lightly on your waist. Slowly, he leaned down and began pressing soft kisses along your bare arms, from shoulder to wrist, as you continued brushing your hair.

You giggled softly, cheeks flushing with that familiar shyness even after all this time.

“Jungkook…” you murmured, breathy. “You ought to distract me.”

“Good,” he whispered against your skin, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “I have missed you all day. I need my darling.”

He dropped to his knees behind you with a quiet clink of armor, bowing his head in his familiar, devoted way. You turned to face him, running your fingers through his raven hair, then tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scars that remained on his face.

You saddened for a moment, remembering the brutality he had endured.

But he looked up at you with such pure worship that it took your breath away. To him, you were more than a princess. you were his salvation, the very source of life that had healed him.

You pulled him closer, and he rose, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you to the grand bed.

The knight laid you down gently, then began to worship you with slow, reverent hands. He unlaced your nightgown with painstaking care, peeling the silk away until you were bare before him. His mouth found your breasts immediately, sucking softly on one sensitive nipple, then the other, drinking the sweet milk that flowed for him with deep, grateful groans.

You moaned softly, fingers threading through his hair as he fed from you, his tongue swirling, lips sealed tight around your peak. He drank like a man who had been starving for you, savoring every drop as if it were the very essence of life itself.

Sir Jungkook groaned deeply against your breast, the sound vibrating through your chest as he drank almost desperately. His large hand cradled the soft weight of your breast, squeezing gently to draw more from you while his other hand stroked your side with reverent tenderness.

“So sweet,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and worshipful. “You give me life, my petal. You heal what war tried to break.”

You whimpered, arching into his mouth, overwhelmed by the intimate, sacred act, fresh heat blooming between your thighs.

When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with dark, adoring eyes.

“You are my salvation,” he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts before moving lower. “The mother of my child. The light that brought me home.”

When he finally moved lower, he spread your thighs with firm hands and settled between them. He looked up at you once, eyes dark with devotion, before lowering his mouth to your core.

He worshipped your flower, seeking nectar with slow, deep licks that made your back arch, followed by gentle suction on your swollen clit. His tongue delved inside you, tasting every inch, groaning at your sweetness as if it were the most sacred thing he had ever known.

You whimpered and moaned, hips rolling against his handsome face as pleasure built in waves. He was relentless yet tender, bringing you to the edge again and again before letting you tip over.

When you finally begged for him, voice trembling with need, Sir Jungkook rose above you like a knight before his altar.

He did not rush. Instead, he sat back on his heels, dark eyes drinking in every inch of your bare, flushed body with such raw hunger that it made your skin burn. You felt vulnerable and impossibly desired under that gaze. A shy, breathless giggle escaped your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.

Sir Jungkook reached out with one large, calloused hand and traced a single finger slowly down your body, from the delicate line of your throat, between your heaving breasts, over the soft curve of your belly, and down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch ever so feather light, yet it left fire in its wake.

“You are a goddess made flesh,” he whispered, voice hoarse with awe. “And I am but a mortal who has been granted the honor of kneeling at your feet.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to your thigh in a gesture of pure worship, eyes closed, breath warm against your skin as if he were praying to the only deity he had ever believed in.

Then he moved over you, settling between your spread thighs. His thick cock pressed against your entrance, hot and heavy. He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed inside, inch by thick, stretching inch, filling you so completely that your mouth fell open in a silent cry.

You dug your nails into his back as he began to move, first slow and loving, then harder, deeper, claiming you with every thrust.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, hips snapping forward. “I love you more than life itself.”

When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes. Jungkook followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a low, broken groan, filling you with pulse after pulse of his release.

In the quiet that followed, with the knight’s arms still wrapped around you and the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, it was strangely easy to remember the day he had first knelt before the throne.

The impenetrable knight clad in steel, sworn to protect a princess draped in silk. and protect you he would, as though it had been carved into the marrow of every breath he would draw, for eternity.

editing thid in a few hours. thankyou so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very much appreciated mwah love you all 🫶💋

[almatiarau]

Something just like this Pt. 3 (End) - Jungkook x F. Reader

Summary: In the middle of adjusting your life to being a divorcee with a daughter, you are invited to your middle school reunion. There, you meet your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook, who also has his own struggle. Feeling nostalgic, both of you are involved in a journey of walking down memory lane. Between puppy love and friendship, will romance bloom for a second time? 

Word count: 9k

Warnings: just a touch of angsty feeling but nothing dramatic :)

Smut Warnings: kissing, makeout, fingering, unprotected sex (lets be wiser and use protection guys), missionary, cowgirl, he comes in her throat, cum swallowing, tell me if im missing something :(

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut in this chapter

Read part 1 here, part 2 here

Author's Note: I don't know where to begin but to say sorry because it took me a whole 9 months to write this last chapter. Honestly the first half was done right away 9 months ago, but somehow lost my inspiration as I was trying to write the second half. But it's weird how one day I felt so inspired and missing writing this back, and then the rest just written in a few days. But I feel relieved that I could finally finish this. Hopefully you would enjoy it. Thank you!

Again, thank you so so much to @euphorajeon who beta-ed this chapter too, would have been a big mess without you missy :*

Taglist: @aznstoner, @lovingkoalaface, @tatzzz-25, @sanarin, @agirlmadeofsteel, @mar-lo-pap, @aiiselle90210, @annyeongbitch7, @roseda, @annpeachy, @jjkluver7, @lj-lovebangtan, @j0cgr0c, @jenc09, @joonam @jeeykey @rinintan9395 @jungkookie-7

On Friday morning you received a message from Seonho saying he needs to come to the office half day on Saturday, so he can only pick up Miyeon after 3PM. Even though Jungkook promised to pick you up at 6.30 in the evening, you just thought it’s easier if you bought the groceries needed to make jjajangmyeon–the dish you finally decided to make–later today after work in order not to rush yourself tomorrow.

By 5.30 PM you’ve reached the grocery store not far from your office. You do need to take the subway back home later, but the quality of meat and vegetables in that store is way better than the ones near your home. 

You are in the middle of picking up a bag of cucumber when someone taps on your shoulder lightly.

“Y/N?”

“Oh? Taehyung??”

“In the flesh,” he gives you a salute gesture that makes you chuckle.

“Nice to see you here, grocery shopping?”

“Great to see you too. Yep, just picking up some ingredients for jjajangmyeon,” you peer over his shopping cart and see many bottles of isotonic and mineral water, “great effort to maintain hydration there.”

He laughs and shows his cart proudly, “it’s for the guys, we’re playing soccer against the Engineering Department tonight, please send your prayer for us, we need all the support there is.”

“Ooff, Engineering Department guys sound legit.”

“They are, hopefully our Jungkookie can save the day, he’s the best striker we have had since forever.”

“Oh, Jungkook’s playing?”

“Yeah, speaking of Jungkook though, did he… uh,” Taehyung scratches the back of his head,, “did he say anything to you?”

You’re a little bit confused, because Jungkook did say a lot of things within the span of time after you met Taehyung.

“I’m sorry… about what?”

Taehyung can guess that Jungkook must have not said anything to you from your puzzled expression. He also hasn’t had the time to ask Jungkook directly, and was planning to follow up to his junior after the soccer game later tonight.

“Uh, well,” Taehyung decides to just take his shot, “I asked Jungkook for your number, but he said he wanted to ask you first, which I understood, because I wouldn’t want my friends to give around my number just to anyone.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, so…”

“Must have slipped his mind or something, uhm, let me put it in your phone?” you offer, because there’s no reason you can find to turn down Taehyung’s advances. It’s not like you have to consider someone else’s feelings… or should you? Because you don’t think Jungkook is the type of person who easily forgets this kind of thing.

Is it your wishful thinking though? 

“Thanks!” Taehyung says when you return his phone back, “maybe I can take you out to one of the places I told you some time?”

You just nod tentatively, “aren’t those kid friendly places?”

“Yeah, I mean I don’t mind taking you and your daughter out if it’s too troublesome for you to find someone to look after her. We can make it a family-friendly date,” he answers with a boyish grin, which somehow does not make his face less handsome. 

This is something you should be excited about. An attractive man offering to take you out on a date and clearly very considerate because he even let your kid tag along if you couldn’t find a sitter. 

But all you can think about as you nod politely again is whether there is a possibility that Jungkook is gatekeeping you on purpose.

“So… I’ll see you around, Y/N?”

“Yeah, see you,” and as Taehyung turns his way, you call out to him again, “hey Tae, good luck on the game and… tell Jungkook I said hi?”

Somehow there’s a difference in the way Taehyung smiles at you. As if he’s acknowledging something while giving you a salute before walking in the opposite direction.

But the worry doesn’t stay too long on your mind. You need to finish up shopping because on weekdays you always try to get home as soon as you can, considering Miyeon is waiting for you at home.

Just as you found a seat inside the subway, a new message pops up on your phone screen.

[Jungkook]: checking whether you still have my number saved, because Tae just told me you said hi

[Jungkook]: hi to you too

[Jungkook]: (pic)

A smile blooms on your face, because not only is he cute, but why does he need to send a picture of himself visibly sweating, probably after a round of soccer.

[You]: well I accidentally bumped into him at the supermarket and he said you guys are playing soccer tonight, I just did what’s customary ;p

[You]: So did you guys defend yourself against the engineering guys?

[Jungkook]: barely. Will you still be cooking with me if we lose?

[You]: of course, consider it as a consolidation meal

[Jungkook]: lets see if I can turn it into victory meal on second round

[You]: I’ll add a dessert if you win

[Jungkook]: that’s enough motivation for me

You smile again, silently wishing for his good luck. For a second you think of asking him about what Taehyung had said earlier. But maybe it would be better to ask directly tomorrow. Probably then you can see his real reaction, whether he’s truly forgotten or… is there another reason? A reason that makes your heart race just by the thought of it.

But by Saturday afternoon, you are humbled by the fact that some plans are not meant to be realized. That life always throws a curveball whenever you think things are going smoothly–or maybe in your case when you’ve been very excited and look forward to it. 

You’ve already had a hunch when Seonho didn’t contact you at all until almost 3 PM. He always texts you whenever he’s on his way to pick up Miyeon. And somehow today, you kind of expected him to be late. 

What you didn’t expect though is for him to totally bail. At 4 PM he finally calls you, saying he still can’t leave work and probably can’t take Miyeon this weekend. Of course it’s not the first time. In the span of one year since the divorce, obviously there were times when you and Seonho could not keep up with your arranged schedule. So this should not be something that you can’t handle.

But apparently there is something different this time that makes you bothered beyond belief, yet at the same time, being bothered makes you feel very guilty. Because to think about being annoyed that your ex husband can’t take your daughter with him so that you can go to your ex boyfriend’s apartment sounds very wrong within your moral compass. You shouldn’t feel that way, it’s like betraying the very essence of motherhood. Nothing should be more important than the well-being of your child. 

However, you’re merely a human being with emotions. Sometimes we can’t regulate what we actually feel with what we should be feeling. This makes–not only your heart–your head ache.

[You]: I’m so sorry, I think we need a raincheck for tonight. Seonho couldn’t come, so I can’t leave Miyeon alone

[Jungkook]: It’s ok. Your daughter is more important. 

On the other side of the city, Jungkook types his reply earnestly. Because he can understand. But understanding doesn’t mean he’s not disappointed. Not with you, and especially not with your daughter, only with the fact that the plan he was looking forward to tonight could not be realized. He looks around his apartment and sighs, feeling more saddened because he just spent half a day cleaning and re-arranging the place. Not that it was a total wreckage in the first place, he always keeps his place tidy, but he did spend a dedicated time this afternoon to make sure everything is ‘in place’. No dirty clothes lying around, no game controller left abandoned on the sofa, mopping the floor twice to ensure no dirt and dust are left behind, and honestly, last night he even stopped by the store to buy a new slipper for you. 

Not that he counts the effort. Again, not at all. But the amount of disappointment he’s feeling right now makes him realize how much he really wants it.

He opens his text message to you once again, thumb hovering on screen, debating whether he wants to send another text to you. Even though he’s unsure what to say. All that he knows is just that he was prepared to be with you tonight. To enjoy your presence and company.

[Jungkook]: hey… was just wondering if it’s ok if maybe I go there instead? You’ve bought the groceries anyway, let’s make good use out of it. 

[Jungkook]: only if you’re comfortable

You didn’t think he’d ask that.

You didn’t think he would actually try to spend time with you even though the circumstances had changed. But it was surely a pleasant surprise when you received his texts. 

So when by 9PM you received another one informing he’s outside, you instantly get up from the couch and make your way to the front door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he scratches the back of his head and shyly smiles, “didn’t want to ring the doorbell, afraid it will wake somebody up.”

At first you were afraid he would perceive you differently when you said that you would love him to come but only after everyone’s asleep, but he assured you he understands. It’s not because you didn’t want him to meet Miyeon, but selfishly, you wanted this for yourself. This part of your life, this moment, with the man who looks too handsome for his own good at 9PM standing in your doorway with mussed hair and gentle smile. You want to preserve this moment for the single woman part of you, not the responsible daughter or mother. 

“Thank you for considering. Everyone’s asleep, I told my mom though that you’re coming, come on.”

Stepping aside, you give him a moment to take his shoes off and shrug his denim jacket aside. With a boyish grin, he presents you a plastic bag containing a box of fried chicken and two bottles of soju, as promised.

The next twenty minutes you spend in your kitchen, cooking the jajangmyeon while trying to maintain the laughs and giggles in minimum volume so as to not awaken your mother and Miyeon. You knew Jungkook likes to cook by himself, he told you several times, but what you didn’t know was how serious he is with it. 

The sound of knives against the cutting board and the scent of frying Chunjang (black bean paste) fill your kitchen. While you are focused on dicing some vegetables, Jungkook is busy stirring the sauce in front of the stove.

You glance at him and can’t help but smile seeing his eyebrows knit together in the middle while he’s all focused.

“How’s the sauce coming along, Kook?”

Jungkook looks up from the pan, eyes softening as they meet yours. His smile is comfortable, reassuring, “it’s perfect, come look.”

You lean in towards the stove, shoulder brushing with his firm one. The warmth from the stove and the warmth from him are suddenly one and the same.

“Wow, you’re really good at this, unless it’s packaged sauce, mine always looks like mud or asphalt.”

Jungkook lets out a low chuckle, his voice then sounds more encouraging when he explains, “it’s all in this first step. You have to roast the Chunjang in oil first to remove the raw and salty edge. It adds to the depth of the taste.”

Your breath hitches when he looks at you directly, “most instant recipes skip this, but if you wanted to make it properly, you can’t. That’s the difference between eating for survival and eating for pleasure. And honestly, I prefer pleasure.”

Why on earth he needs to add a wink after that last sentence is beyond you.

As if that act alone didn’t make your heart flutter, he then takes the wooden spoon from the simmering pot, dipping the tip of his index finger into the rich, dark Jajang sauce. The next moment feels like a slow-mo movie scene as he brings his finger to his mouth, tasting it with a focused intensity that makes your stomach clench involuntarily. You can tell he’s mouthing the word ‘perfect’ even though no sound is coming out from his lips. 

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he dips his finger again, coating the pad with the thick, savoury sauce. His focus turns to you, gaze lifting to meet yours in a quiet challenge. He doesn’t need to say a word to explain his next action as he moves his hand, the sauce-tipped finger closer to your lips. The air is charged, tension thickens with every thrum of your heartbeat when you tilt your head just a little bit, lips parting slightly to meet his finger halfway, eyes never leaving each other as you gently draw the sauce into your mouth with a soft, sensual press. His thumb grazes your chin lightly, as you taste the flavourful sauce, fingers ghosting over your jaw.

“How is it?” 

God, he really doesn’t need to whisper like that.

Your effort not to stutter fails miserably when you answer him, “g-good, delicious.”

“Yeah? Good enough for you?”

More than enough, you think. But the words don’t come out of your mouth. Instead, your eyes stray from his eyes to his lips, subtly glistening under the warm light of your kitchen. And the same thing happens to him, as you see his eyes drop to your lips. For a moment you feel like you just put on your noise cancelling headphones as everything goes silent. Your heartbeat thrums loudly, your palms sweaty as the distance grows closer and closer.

Unfortunately, things really don’t want to go your way that day. Because just when you’re about to close your eyes, Jungkook’s lips inches away from yours, your timer goes off, signalling the chicken reheating inside your oven should be done. 

Both of you jolt back in reflex, eyes darting everywhere as you regulate the increased beating of your heart. 

“Th-the chicken,” you murmur and Jungkook clears his throat, nodding a few times before searching for some gloves to take it out from the oven.

You move swiftly to turn off the stove, stirring the Jajang sauce one last time before preparing the noodles on a plate, “I think everything’s set?” trying your best to keep your voice steady even though you can still feel the heat of the previous moment in your cheeks and stomach.

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, moving the chicken from the pan to a serving dish you’ve prepared earlier, “where do you want to eat?”

Contemplating your choices, you scan the dining table quickly before eyeing the coffee table in the living room. The dining table should be more practical, but the coziness of sitting on the rug, backs against the couch while the television is playing something as a background noise seems much more inviting, especially to soothe whatever tension between you and Jungkook before.

“How about the living room? Is it okay for you?”

“Wherever you’re comfortable with, Y/N.”

So you nod once again and start making your way to the living room, two bowls of Jajangmyeon in your hands while Jungkook carries the chicken and beers. You go back to the kitchen to take out some fresh kimchi and utensils, all the while Jungkook is arranging the food and drinks on the table.

You spend the next 30 minutes lost in conversations and food. Bodies relaxing against the couch, bowls in one hand while the other holding onto chopsticks, picking out some banchans or chickens in between taking the noodles and slurping it into your mouth. Jungkook wasn’t kidding when he said that roasting the beans adds more depth into the sauce because holy hell, the taste is incredible.

“This is hands down one of the best Jajangmyeon I had in a while.”

“Yeah? You like it?” Jungkook asks while sipping his beer, clearly amused by your satisfied face.

“So much, I can eat this a whole week.”

“That’s gotta be excessive.”

“Says mister I can eat daechang everyday.”

Jungkook laughs, and his laugh is always infectious to you. Your body shakes with muffled laughter, still remembering how your mother and Miyeon are fast asleep upstairs. In the middle of it all, you catch Jungkook’s gaze upon you. You try to hold your eyes on him too, but alas, you’re not as strong as you think you are, because it doesn’t take a minute for you to look away with cheeks as warm as the bowl of freshly cooked jajangmyeon.

“What?” you finally ask when you find out he is still eyeing you in between sipping his beer.

“Just appreciating this.”

“What’s there to appreciate that original plan is completely u-turned?”

“I think it’s a blessing in disguise.”

You decide to take a gulp from your own beer can, oblivious to what should be a correct response to his remark. 

The TV is turned on and currently playing a random episode of How I Met Your Mother. A series you both decided to ‘watch’ when you started eating the food. But honestly, you haven’t paid attention to it the whole time. Not when the conversation flew easily, from the soccer match to random recipe hacks. 

And now, even the brush of his knees against yours on the rug feels amplified. 

“Thanks for letting me come by, and messing your kitchen up,” Jungkook adds, setting down his beer can on the table, his right arm resting upon the couch, fingers barely touching your elbow.

You shake your head, “thanks to you I get to eat a delicious meal, and free beers and chickens.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

You put your beer can on the table too, next to his, before resting your head on the couch. He finally finds a place for his fingers to brush over your hair.

“I like this,” his voice softened, eyes boring into yours.

“The food or…”

He chuckles, moving closer, “the food only complimenting it.”

“Me too then…” everything feels too good for you, full belly, warmth tingling sensation in your heart, every stroke of his hands, you absentmindedly move your head even closer to his palm. 

And Jungkook feels it. He can see the longing in your eyes. It matches his.

“You know… Taehyung asked about you.”

Oh, he finally told you about it. But why at this moment? 

“Hmm?”

You can see his hesitation for a second, but Jungkook is determined to clear it out with you first before anything.

“He asked for your number. He’s interested in you.”

You then hold your head up from the couch, “uhm… yeah, he mentioned it when I ran into him at the supermarket.”

“Yeah… so… that’s that…” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” he tries to counter.

“I mean, why not before?”

“Did you give him your number?”

“What would you prefer me to do, Kook?”

You can tell he is battling himself by the way he holds his word, teeth biting into his lower lip, eyebrows knitted in the middle of his forehead.

“I did give him my number,” you sigh, “I mean, I did it because he asked me whether you had mentioned it to me, which you didn’t, so I… just thought…”

Jungkook cups your chin in his hand, thumb gently brushing your cheek, “did he call you yet?”

“No.”

“Would you want him to?”

You close your eyes momentarily as your lips release another sigh from his gentle stroke, “I asked you that question first.”

“I…” another soft stroke and his thumb slowly descend to your lower lips, “can I kiss you?”

Opening your eyes, you nod your head before his lips finally claim yours. It’s tentative, exploring, but definitely different from your first kiss with him 15 years ago. 

He was your first kiss, but to think of it again, maybe it was just a peck. A brush of lips meeting lips in a few seconds until you both pulled away out of timidness and shyness. But now, it feels totally different. His lips slotting against yours deeper, his moves are more precise and experienced, making your whole body weak. 

It feels like a dam finally breaks with the way his hand moves to your nape, pulling you even closer if it’s possible as one of your legs already moved by itself over his thigh. Your heartbeat thrums loudly making your palms sweaty but dear God you wish the time stands still. If there are moments you want to freeze in time and memory, this certainly is one of them. 

For a few seconds all you can hear is just wet sounds of your lips locking, a few whimpers from you and breathy exhales from him. You can feel his hesitance as his hands travel around your body, never really putting it on places you wish he would. 

So, you do the most logical thing, take his free hand–not the one which is currently holding the back of your head, moving you gently the way he wants to devour your lips–and put it somewhere that matters.

“Fuck,” he mutters as your hand guide his to your ass.

Soon you realize that your decision wasn’t a good one. Because the moment his hand squeezes your ass, pulling your body even closer to his, you let out a loud moan which makes you realize that you are still in your living room downstairs while your daughter and mother are currently asleep upstairs.

Suddenly you’re hyper aware of every little sound in your house, worrying that someone might have woken up. You try to resist his kisses, try to put your hands on his hard chest while he’s still lost in you, licking your lips asking for entrance. 

And you’re just a weak woman for Jungkook. Because you obey, separating your lips to let his tongue wander further. Whimpers of hesitation turn into desperation when you feel his bulge brushes deliciously against your aching core. He grunts, pulling you even closer as his lips travel to your jaw, making you circle your arms around his neck, fingers threading on his soft hair.

Just as you let out another soft moan–courtesy of Jungkook kissing the right spot under your ear–you hear the sound of a door opening, and a sleepy voice.

“Eomma? Where are you?”

You stand up hastily, peeling yourself away from Jungkook’s warmth. Jungkook instinctively steadying your hips as you’re about to fall from your panicked moves. 

“J-just leave everything, I will clean it up later,” you say without even looking back at him, heart stammering inside your chest.

Jungkook can see the guilt behind your eyes as you hurriedly make your way upstairs. He rubs his face as he sighs softly. Not because he’s disappointed, but he’s genuinely concerned whether you regret what just happened. He clearly doesn’t. But he can see you look upset.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jungkook decides it’s too late to extend his welcome, so he cleans everything up and leaves your house quietly.

[Jungkook]: Hey, just wanted to let you know that I’m glad we kissed. I hope you feel the same way. Let’s talk when you’re available. Good night.

You know it’s stupid to avoid him. But you can’t shake that guilty feeling which has been eating you alive for a couple weeks now. You know you shouldn’t feel that way. Especially after reading his last message. You’re single, he’s single, there’s nothing wrong with two single people wanting each other. But this is uncharted territory for you. Navigating your desire while maintaining a status as a single mom. You feel irresponsible to give into your desire while there are too many responsibilities. It struck you the most when you realized how frustrated you were when Miyeon called you. 

That guilt of wanting something for yourself is something you still need to manage. Because you are someone who is not used to prioritizing herself. Spending your life growing as an eldest daughter, then getting married quite young, being a mother, it’s as if you were never given time to think about your own desire as you are too used to thinking about how your actions will implicate others.

You don’t realize you’ve been looking straight to the TV, remote on hand, and yet, haven’t even turned the thing on. Memory keep playing back to that night, on this exact location, the same couch, his hands on yours, his quiet whimpers, the feeling of being wanted, by the man you really want for yourself too–

“Y/N?”

You almost drop the remote when your mother makes her appearances in the living room. Already dressed in her sleeping gown, a cup of ginseng tea on hand. She frowns slightly as the room is left dark, and yet, you don’t even turn the television on.

“What are you doing?”

“J-just watching the TV.”

She pauses a moment, before turning on the light. She studies your face for a second before asking silently whether she can sit next to you. You nod your head gently, giving her some space.

“Is there something wrong? You’ve been quite distracted lately.”

Well, she’s not wrong. You’ve almost packed Miyeon’s daycare backpack with your own lunchbox and green juice.

Also, that one day, instead of packing her a set of clothes (for backup if her clothes are wet that day), you put two pairs of trousers. Thank goodness her clothes remained dry and clean the whole day.

And maybe, this is not the first time your mother caught you unfocused in the past few weeks.

“Something happened with Seonho?” she asked carefully. Knowing you had been through hell and it might still be quite a sensitive subject.

You shake your head slowly, fingers moving nervously around your loose t-shirt hem. As you ponder whether to talk to her about it, she asks again, even slower than before.

“Is it Jungkook?”

And when you froze for a second, she knew she hit the right spot. 

“I haven’t heard from him lately, is he okay?”

“Y-yeah… I supposed so… I haven’t talked to him for a while too…”

“Why? I thought… you two are… closer again?” she asks again, still tentatively.

Seeing the concern in her eyes, you think maybe you could finally talk to someone about this. You are hesitant at first, because how could you discuss something like this with your own mother? But then you remember, she had been helpful too during your difficult period with Seonho. 

“We… kind of did… it’s just… I feel… guilty… and just confused because… the more I want to be with him… makes me forget about my responsibility as Miyeon’s mom… even confessing this makes me feel guilty because… how could you possibly put a man over your own daughter…”

Your mother hums softly, “I can understand where you’re coming from,” she puts her glass on the coffee table and makes herself sit more comfortably, “but don’t you think Jungkookie is a good man?”

Nodding your head, your mind travels to the memories of the past few months. He really is a good man, isn’t he? You recall his big brown eyes widened earnestly every time you start a conversation. And the way he is always turning towards your every bid–something you learnt in your therapy, about couple’s compatibility and how a healthy relationship requires each person to respond positively towards the other’s bid, or an invitation to connect–something you were missing with Seonho before. He rarely responds to your bid, especially towards the period where you know he’d been seeing someone else.

“What Miyeon deserves is a happy mother, and a happy mother requires you to be in a healthy mental space. I think your relationship with Jungkookie has helped you a lot in that case. I could see how much happier you were. You know, you got less frustrated with Miyeon lately. You talked even softer to her, as if… you gained more patience?” your mom says.

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did,” your mom pats your shoulder gently, “and as your mother, it makes me happy seeing you like that. I know you keep a lot to yourself, but I know what you went through was not easy. My dear, you deserve to be happy, and you deserve to think about yourself too. You have me, you have Kiho, we will all help you with Miyeon, you don’t have to worry about that. But you’re the only one who can help yourself with your heart.”

It’s very impulsive and your heart is still beating so fast from all the rush. Moments after your conversation with your mother, you texted Jungkook. Yeah, shameless really. After a couple weeks of radio silence. And worse, after an intimate moment you shared with him. You should not expect him to reply that fast, or at all. But he did.

[You]: Hey… can we talk? Sorry it took me this long.

[Jungkook]: Sure. Tell me when and where.

[You]: Can you share me your address? And can I come over? Like… right now?

Your mother had told you that she would sleep with Miyeon tonight. So, you don’t have to worry about her. That is why you find yourself just outside Jungkook’s apartment lobby at 10 PM on a weekday. 

“Hey.”

He sounds the same. He looks the same too, a familiar view of Jungkook in a black zip up hoodie and a pair of sweatpants greets you as the automatic door opens up. 

“H-hi… I’m sorry it’s so late and I–”

“Y/N,” his voice stern but gentle, “let’s go upstairs.”

You follow him to the elevator. The silence in between does make you move awkwardly. Something you haven’t been doing whenever you’re around him–even from the first time you saw him again. But you know it’s on you. You’re the one who ghosted him, left his message unreplied with the last impression that maybe you might regret what happened between you two.

Jungkook opens his unit door and lets you go inside first. You instinctively take off your shoes and your heart skips a beat upon seeing a woman’s size slipper just beside one you assumed is his–black and obviously man’s size. For a moment you think that maybe there was another woman he welcomed. But then again, who are you to control what he could and couldn’t do.

“I bought it a few weeks ago when we were supposed to hang out here. You know, to cook,” he says as if sensing your wandering mind.

“I’m sorry…”

He looks at you for a second, does not respond to your word directly but gesturing you to follow him towards what you assume is his living room. He then takes a seat on the couch and again, signalling you to also do the same.

“Again… I’m sorry… Kook, I really am I don’t–”

“What are you sorry about exactly?” he stops you mid sentence, knowing the way you avoid his gaze means you’re about to ramble around. It’s not like he doesn’t want to hear you rambling. Hell, he always finds it cute. But he needs you to cut to the chase right now. He’s been on the verge for the past few weeks. He knows your situation, and he has been trying to comprehend, trying to put himself in your shoes. And yes, moving on from a long committed relationship is not easy. There’s always a lingering feeling of whether you’re doing the right thing. Is it too fast, will this last, what would your ex think, and to add a child in that equation must have been overwhelming too. So, yeah, Jungkook could understand a fraction of what you might be feeling. But God does he need to hear how you feel about that night too. 

“For leaving you on read…” you answer truthfully, because that’s the point that makes you feel so bad.

“Yeah, that was a little bit cruel,” he responds, a faint chuckle leaving his lips, “but really, what I’m dying to know is whether you regret it or not, Y/N.”

You can feel your heartbeat rising as your eyes locked with his. You think this might be your first time seeing that look on him. Piercing gaze looking straight to yours. Gone the friendly-neighbour Jungkook look you’re familiar with. You should feel intimidated really, but on the contrary, you are drawn to him. Like you want to prove to him that no, you don’t regret it at all. 

So, you gather your courage and move closer on the couch, knees brushing his as you keep your eyes locked.

“No,” you shake your head slightly, “it’s the opposite really. I… I wanted you so bad it scared me.”

He moves closer too. Now that he hears your confession, he finds more confidence to cup your cheek, thumb brushes the apple gently, “yeah? Why? Did I scare you?”

“Not you,” you sigh, feeling his caresses, “just… I feel like a bad mom because for the first time in a long time, I wish I didn’t need to think about being a mom for a while and just…”

“Just…” he trails off, thumb moving closer to your lower lips, trying to control his urges seeing you close your eyes momentarily.

“Just be with you. Truly be with you.”

“You don’t need to forget about being a mom to be with me, I don’t mind that part of you at all, you just need to tell me what you feel and I’ll try to adjust as much as I can.”

“I know, that’s why I’m saying it’s not you, it’s me,” you lean your cheek deeper into his palm, “it’s scary because that night I was really disappointed and frustrated that… she woke up while I’m… while I wanted…”

He can sense your wants just by seeing the look on your face, so Jungkook moves even closer, his other hand moves to your nape, making your breath hitch, “you wanted what?” he leans down to you, nose brushing your jaw gently.

Your sanity officially leaves the chat when he finally kisses the back of your ear, an open mouthed one that leaves your skin wet but God you don’t mind at all. You can feel slick gushing from your core just from that one move. Your hands move instinctively around his neck, pulling him closer, “I want you, God, I want you so much.”

“Yeah? I want you too,” he trails kisses down your jaw, “can’t stop thinking about you it’s driving me insane,” as his lips brushes yours, he stops, closing his eyes, he mumbles against your lips, “let me have you?”

Your answer comes by taking his lips into a deep kiss, tightening your hold around his neck as he maneuvers you to sit on his lap, your thighs part to trap him in between yours. 

It’s been too long for you to feel this desired, even just from a kiss. The way he moves your head, his tongue begging for entrance before battling yours, everything he does ignites the fire inside you.

“Can I have you?” he asks again, hands starting to move downwards towards your back, silently waiting for your answer before touching you in places he really desires.

“I’m yours, Kook,” you kiss him again before leaning back a little, fingers fiddling with the buttons of your blouse while keeping your eyes locked on him. It spurs you seeing how darker his eyes are getting. Lips red and swollen from the makeout session earlier, he rests his head against the couch, licking his lower lip.

“Show me what’s mine then.”

Holy hell, never knew being commanded like this makes you so aroused. So you unbutton your blouse slowly, giving a peek of that white lace bra you specifically picked earlier because sue you for being prepared. 

You’re just a second done from peeling your blouse off when his hand palms your breast. Thumb grazing your nipple through the lacey fabric already making you whimper. 

Jungkook leans forward, lips peppering kisses around your collarbone as he whispers against your skin, “pretty, is this mine?”

“Y-yes.”

“Show me what else is mine,” he commands after giving your chest a sloppy kiss and leans back again, waiting for you to make your next move.

You take the cue and get on your feet to take off your pants, trying your best to be seductive and sexy, but Jungkook can see your hands trembling so he leans forward to hold your hand.

“Hey, hey, you okay? We don’t have to do this.”

“No,” you firmly reply, because you DO really want it. It’s just… it’s been a while for you and the fact that you’ve only been intimate with your ex-husband has just dawned on you as you are lowering down your pants.

“I mean, I want this, it’s just… been a while.”

“I get it,” he responds, pulling you gently to his lap again–sans pants now, “come here, let me make you feel good,” lips peppering kisses down your neck, “don’t be shy, baby, feel what you’ve done to me,” he pulls your hips down against his hardened bulge under his sweatpants.

“Nghh,” you can help but moan when finally feeling that long awaited friction against your damp panties.

Seeing how you like it, Jungkook holds your butt with both hands before getting up, making you hold onto him tightly as he carries you across the room to where you assume is his bedroom. 

Turns out you’re right, because then he lays you down on the bed, comforting cool cotton against your skin as you regulate your breathing from seeing him take off his hoodie first, and then a plain white t-shirt, before his bare torso greets your eyes. 

And what a magnificent view it is. You finally get what you’re wishing for, to witness his tattoo along his right arm until the upper part of his chest. His shoulder to waist ratio is borderline sinful. 

As your eyes trail down, the obvious tent on his grey sweatpants makes you both gulp and gush. You don’t think you ever salivate over a man like this before.

But before you can think further, Jungkook gets on the bed, caging you in, cups your face with one hand before kissing you again. You don’t waste anymore time exploring his body. Your smaller hands roam his sculpted body deliberately. And when he moans against your lips in specific places, you can’t help but raise your hips to meet his, chasing that delicious friction to your core.

He shucks his pants off along with his boxer hastily before grinding his hips against yours, “see how much I want you, can you feel it?”

“Y-yes, please, Jungkook…”

“Let me open you up,” he swallows your moan as his finger makes its way inside you, “God you’re so tight like this.”

“Please,” you squeeze his big arms, “please…”

“What do you need? Tell me, Baby,” lips all over your neck and jaw, he slowly adds a second finger, thumb circling on your pulsing clit.

The pleasure intensifies as you feel tears prickling your eyes, hips chasing his hands rapidly, “I need you inside, please…”

“My fingers are inside.”

Even in your state you can make out his smug smirk, teasing you.

“I need your dick, please, put it inside me.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

You pry your eyes open in between desperate whimpers. Gone the teasing smirk, his gaze is deep, focusing on you.

“Promise I’ll make you feel good, okay? Enjoy this with me?”

You nod a few times, breath hitching each second as his fingers move faster.

And then he slows down, taking it out of you as you gasp, already longing for his touch.

Before the cold air can even settle against your skin, he shifts, parting your thighs wider and settling his weight right between them. His length lines up against you, hot and thick, pressing into your slick warmth but not putting it in just yet.

“Fuck,” he closes his eyes momentarily before opening it again, leans down as he brushes his lips against yours, “feel how much I want you, how hard you make me?” 

“Please… Kook, I want you too.”

He slowly pushes into you, inch by inch. You let out a shaken whimper as your body stretches to accommodate him. He’s big, that’s the first thing you realize as you feel the stretch is in between pleasure and pain. 

“F-fuck,” Jungkook groans into your mouth, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He stops moving for a second when he feels like he reaches deep enough, lips devouring yours in slow kisses to ease that tension he can feel on your body.

When he feels your hips start moving, searching for more, he begins to move, a slow, deep, devastatingly thorough rhythm. It’s not rough—not yet—but the sheer weight and depth of each stroke are dizzying. Every time he pulls back, it feels like a loss, and every time he drives back in, he leans his full weight into you, making sure you feel the hard press of his hips against yours, anchoring you to the bed. 

“Kook, please,” you start to sob with every deep thrust, your fingers digging into the tight muscles of his back, your hips instinctively lifting to meet him. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his lips catching yours in a deep, bruising kiss, “fuck you feel so good,” he pairs the kiss with a sudden, sharper angle, hitting a spot deep inside that makes your toes curl and your vision go blurry. 

It’s been so long since you’ve been held like this, making the sudden rush of intimacy feels like a physical shock to your system. Every touch of his skin against yours, the heavy slide of him stretching you open, triggers a wave of electricity that ripples straight to your core. And you’re defenseless against it. Your body reacts on its own, you let out a loud moan as your head rolls back into the pillow, your senses entirely overwhelmed. 

“Too much?” Jungkook asks, his voice thick with a mix of concern and need. He pauses his moves, chest heaving against yours, but he doesn't pull out. He stays buried deep, letting you feel the pulsing thickness of him. 

"No, no, don't stop," you cry out, the words frantic as you hook your legs higher around his waist, "It’s just... I’ve never... God, Jungkook, please."

The thing is, it’s not just the physical aspect of it. It’s in the way he looks at you, touches you like you’re the only thing that matters in this world, the way his large hand anchors your hips as if he’s afraid of losing you makes your heart and body flutter. 

"I'm not stopping, Baby, I can’t," he growls, the sweet reassurance melting into a possessive rumble as he begins to move again. 

This time, he picks the pace up. Your hips chase him blindly, movements uncoordinated and desperate as you both chase the high. You’re coming apart at the seams, tears spill over your lashes, blurring your vision of his face while you arch more into his heavy, deep thrusts. 

One of his hand snakes over your chest, kneading your breast roughly as his thumb brushes hard over the peak. Your hips instantly buck upward against him, a high, broken gasp catching in your throat as your inside walls tighten and begin to throb in anticipation. 

“I’m close, I’m so close, Kook, please…”

“Yeah? Come all over me, come on, be a good girl and come for me.” 

His deep, gravelly voice is the final push your body needs as white-hot waves of pleasure crash straight through you. Your internal muscles clamp down around him in desperate, tight spasms as the orgasm rips out of you. Pulling him even closer, you cry his name out against his neck, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders as your hips tremble violently against his. This might be the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced in your entire life, leaving you a breathless, shivering wreck. 

Jungkook groans heavily, his jaw clenching as he absorbs the intense, squeezing pressure of your climax. He holds himself deep inside you for a few seconds, letting you ride out the peak, his hands gently rubbing up and down your thighs to soothe your trembling body.

“That’s it, Baby,” he murmurs, tone softening while peppering soft, comforting presses along your jawline, “did so good, made a mess of my dick.”

When your breath begins to level out, you feel him slightly shift. But he doesn't pull back. Instead, the heavy thickness of him presses deeper, still rock-hard and pulsing against your sensitive walls. A low, warning chuckle vibrates in his chest when you let out a tiny whine.

“Yeah, so… I’m not done with you yet,” he nudges your nose gently, a stark contrast with the way his hard dick is pulsing inside you, “you think you can still handle it?”

“Y-yeah,” because of course you’re still very much physically attracted to him. Especially now with his damp black hair, buffed chest glistening with sweat and oh so intoxicating sex-induced smell of his body. So whatever sensitivity you feel down there, yeah, it really can be negotiated.

You show him by pulling his head closer, capturing his reddened lips with yours in a deep sensual kiss, tongue searching for him while your small hand roams over his tight abs.

“I want you to cum, Kook, fuck me until you cum,” you mumble in between kisses, earning a hiss from him before he picks your body, move up on the bed as he sits against the headboard with you on his lap.

Your hands instinctively hold onto his shoulder, lifting your body, you watch him stroking his dick with one hand while the other guiding your hips slowly down. 

You know it’s going to burn a little from this position, but damn it’s worth the pain when he is finally buried to the hilt. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he groans, head snapping back against the headboard. With his large hands anchoring you, you begin to ride him. The position allows you to feel him even deeper, hitting new spots that send hot pleasure all over your senses. Jungkook guides your rhythm, thumbs rubbing your hips, pulling you down harder when he needs more pressure. 

When you thought he couldn’t look hotter, you’re proven wrong. Not when his glassy eyes darken with desire bore into yours, half-lidded, breath ragged with sweats rolling down from his neck to chest. 

He catches your look, a lazy smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. His hand cups your face, thumb pulling your bottom lip down, “you look so sexy like this, riding my dick so good, gonna let me have this forever, yeah?”

You nod, tongue brushing his thumb before catching the whole thing and sucking it eagerly. 

Jungkook snaps his head back harder this time, strings of curses escape his lips as he bucks his hips faster. Pulling his thumb off of you, he uses it to circle your clit. It really doesn’t take long before you feel that familiar bubbling sensation, waiting to burst. And when he leans forward to take one of your bouncing breasts into his mouth and suck greedily, you feel  the coil snaps inside, sending jolts of pleasure all over your body. 

Before you can process anything, in one fluid, effortless motion, he pulls you out and shifts you onto your knees between his legs. He reaches down, his fingers gently tangling in your hair to guide your head down toward his lap, where his length is pulsing and heavy. 

"Open up for me, baby," he begs, his voice dropping into a rough, desperate whisper as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, “take it for me, let me cum in your pretty mouth please.”

How could you say no when he asks you so nicely, but also, you want it, badly. You want to see him fall apart the way he made you two times earlier. Looking up at him through your lashes, you part your lips and take his hot, heavy length. The sensation makes Jungkook let out a loud, guttural groan, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands tighten in your hair, holding you gently but firmly in place. He begins to move his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, whole body shaking with the strain of holding back.

"So good... fuck, gonna cum," he pants, his breath hitching as the climax finally hits him, fingers anchoring you as he releases inside your mouth. He holds himself there for a few seconds, riding out the powerful, pulsing waves of his climax while whispering breathless, sweet praises to you. You instinctively swallow everything, before wiping your lips with your hand.

Jungkook immediately reaches for you, his strong arms hooking under your arms to pull you upward until you're collapsed against his chest, head tucked under his chin. He holds you tight, large hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over your bare back. 

“You okay?” he asks, while you feel a gentle kiss on top of your head.

“More than okay,” you emphasize by nuzzling further into the crook of his neck. Sweat be damned.

The quiet of the aftermath brings a sudden, heavy wave of reality crashing back into your mind. You trace a mindless pattern over his collarbone, the warmth of his skin grounding you, but you can’t shake the thoughts away. What happens after this? And did it happen just because of familiarity?

"Jungkook?" you whisper, voice small inside the quiet bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“What happens after this?”

He stops his movement, peering his eyes down at you, making you a little distracted with those glossy boba eyes, very much different from the intense pair when he railed you into the mattress.

“What I want is to be with you, if you have me. I’ll learn whatever you want me to learn, about your routine, what you need from me in terms of your relationship with your daughter,” he strokes your cheek softly, “whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable, because that's what you’ve given me.”

“Comfort?”

“Yeah.”

“What if that’s just what it is.”

“What do you mean?” 

You can see even in faint light how his brows knit together.

“I mean, what if we just fall into a comfortable, familiar area because we already know each other? It's easy to slide back into old patterns when you meet someone from your past. I just... I’m worried that we're confusing nostalgia with something real." 

Jungkook shifts slightly, a small, tender smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he frames your face with his two large hands, leaving you no choice but to look at him in the eyes.

"First of all, comfort is not a bad thing," he says, voice steady and convincing, “I know this might look like it, believe me, I struggle with this thought at first too,” his large thumb brushing the apple of your cheek lightly, “tried to convince myself that we’re just old friends, but I realized that friends could also become lovers. And maybe even better, because not only I want to tell you everything about my day, or whatever interesting comes my way, but also…” his thumb grazes your lips, “I want to kiss you too, I want to hug you, I don’t like the idea of anyone giving you romantic attention–”

“Taehyung?” you say while smiling mischiveously. 

He chuckles with you, head leans a little to give you a quick smooch, “yeah, honestly it was also the moment when I realized, no, I don’t want her to go on a date with him, or anyone else. Because I want to be the only one who takes you out.”

He pulls you back into his embrace, your hand around his waist as you snuggle closer, “I feel that way too… like… I wanna tell you about my day, about what I feel or what makes me laugh.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, “I haven’t felt being heard for a while now… so…”

He holds you tighter, lips pressing another kiss on the top of your head, “I’ll hear you out, and on the days that I’m not 100% in  it, I’ll tell you. And we’ll learn, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both fall into comforting silence, savouring each other’s presence until your bodies adjust itself into an even more comfortable position. Your back against his chest while his arms wrapped around your waist, lips peppering kisses on your shoulder.

“Promise you talk to me if anything’s bothering you, yeah?” he whispers, lips brushing behind your ear.

“Okay… promise you tell me if I did something wrong?” 

Jungkook knows it’s a question based on your previous trauma. So he kisses your shoulder, another one lands behind your ear.

“I will. I won’t shut you out, Y/N, we’ll talk, okay? Even when it’s messy, we’ll talk.”

You turn your body to face him, to look him right in the eye to search for any doubt, any crack, but you found none. He just looks at you with genuine determination.

“What’s running inside this pretty head, huh?” he asks, fingers playfully flicking your forehead.

“You know, at that daechang place, when you asked me how I feel about dating.”

“Oh yeah,” Jungkook remembers that conversation, the night he thought you were so cute.

“And I told you, I was confused, because I wanted something but I don’t know what, because I keep calculating about being a mom and also being a single woman.”

“You know you could be both with me,” he adds, lips pressing a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah, so now I know what I want, it’s something just like this.”

Later, before you go into deep slumber with his arms around your waist, you feel like the lingering doubts in your mind finally begin to settle into a quiet sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this history between you wasn’t a crutch, but a foundation. When you broke up all those years ago, it hadn’t been because the feelings died, life had simply pulled you apart before you were ready. 

And now, fate had thrown you back together after surviving the wreckage of failed marriages—you, walking away from a husband who couldn’t stay faithful, and Jungkook, untangling himself from a relationship that had choked to death on silence and poor communication. Both of you had been broken down, but had also grown up. As you feel the weight of his arms around you protectively, you realize that the scars you both carried were no longer just baggage. They were lessons. You knew the cost of betrayal, and he knew the danger of staying silent. 

Slotting your fingers in between his, you try to believe that this time, the risk might be worth it. Because in this short life, you deserve to love and be loved by the right person. And sometimes, it’s not always a new one.

END

A/N: Thank you so so much for reading, and even more special thanks to those who read the first 2 parts 9 months ago and still want to continue reading this. Again, I'm so sorry for the long update but hopefully the last part make up for it (even just a little hehe).

[almatiarau]

Something just like this Pt. 3 (End) - Jungkook x F. Reader

Summary: In the middle of adjusting your life to being a divorcee with a daughter, you are invited to your middle school reunion. There, you meet your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook, who also has his own struggle. Feeling nostalgic, both of you are involved in a journey of walking down memory lane. Between puppy love and friendship, will romance bloom for a second time? 

Word count: 9k

Warnings: just a touch of angsty feeling but nothing dramatic :)

Smut Warnings: kissing, makeout, fingering, unprotected sex (lets be wiser and use protection guys), missionary, cowgirl, he comes in her throat, cum swallowing, tell me if im missing something :(

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut in this chapter

Read part 1 here, part 2 here

Author's Note: I don't know where to begin but to say sorry because it took me a whole 9 months to write this last chapter. Honestly the first half was done right away 9 months ago, but somehow lost my inspiration as I was trying to write the second half. But it's weird how one day I felt so inspired and missing writing this back, and then the rest just written in a few days. But I feel relieved that I could finally finish this. Hopefully you would enjoy it. Thank you!

Again, thank you so so much to @euphorajeon who beta-ed this chapter too, would have been a big mess without you missy :*

Taglist: @aznstoner, @lovingkoalaface, @tatzzz-25, @sanarin, @agirlmadeofsteel, @mar-lo-pap, @aiiselle90210, @annyeongbitch7, @roseda, @annpeachy, @jjkluver7, @lj-lovebangtan, @j0cgr0c, @jenc09, @joonam @jeeykey @rinintan9395 @jungkookie-7

On Friday morning you received a message from Seonho saying he needs to come to the office half day on Saturday, so he can only pick up Miyeon after 3PM. Even though Jungkook promised to pick you up at 6.30 in the evening, you just thought it’s easier if you bought the groceries needed to make jjajangmyeon–the dish you finally decided to make–later today after work in order not to rush yourself tomorrow.

By 5.30 PM you’ve reached the grocery store not far from your office. You do need to take the subway back home later, but the quality of meat and vegetables in that store is way better than the ones near your home. 

You are in the middle of picking up a bag of cucumber when someone taps on your shoulder lightly.

“Y/N?”

“Oh? Taehyung??”

“In the flesh,” he gives you a salute gesture that makes you chuckle.

“Nice to see you here, grocery shopping?”

“Great to see you too. Yep, just picking up some ingredients for jjajangmyeon,” you peer over his shopping cart and see many bottles of isotonic and mineral water, “great effort to maintain hydration there.”

He laughs and shows his cart proudly, “it’s for the guys, we’re playing soccer against the Engineering Department tonight, please send your prayer for us, we need all the support there is.”

“Ooff, Engineering Department guys sound legit.”

“They are, hopefully our Jungkookie can save the day, he’s the best striker we have had since forever.”

“Oh, Jungkook’s playing?”

“Yeah, speaking of Jungkook though, did he… uh,” Taehyung scratches the back of his head,, “did he say anything to you?”

You’re a little bit confused, because Jungkook did say a lot of things within the span of time after you met Taehyung.

“I’m sorry… about what?”

Taehyung can guess that Jungkook must have not said anything to you from your puzzled expression. He also hasn’t had the time to ask Jungkook directly, and was planning to follow up to his junior after the soccer game later tonight.

“Uh, well,” Taehyung decides to just take his shot, “I asked Jungkook for your number, but he said he wanted to ask you first, which I understood, because I wouldn’t want my friends to give around my number just to anyone.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, so…”

“Must have slipped his mind or something, uhm, let me put it in your phone?” you offer, because there’s no reason you can find to turn down Taehyung’s advances. It’s not like you have to consider someone else’s feelings… or should you? Because you don’t think Jungkook is the type of person who easily forgets this kind of thing.

Is it your wishful thinking though? 

“Thanks!” Taehyung says when you return his phone back, “maybe I can take you out to one of the places I told you some time?”

You just nod tentatively, “aren’t those kid friendly places?”

“Yeah, I mean I don’t mind taking you and your daughter out if it’s too troublesome for you to find someone to look after her. We can make it a family-friendly date,” he answers with a boyish grin, which somehow does not make his face less handsome. 

This is something you should be excited about. An attractive man offering to take you out on a date and clearly very considerate because he even let your kid tag along if you couldn’t find a sitter. 

But all you can think about as you nod politely again is whether there is a possibility that Jungkook is gatekeeping you on purpose.

“So… I’ll see you around, Y/N?”

“Yeah, see you,” and as Taehyung turns his way, you call out to him again, “hey Tae, good luck on the game and… tell Jungkook I said hi?”

Somehow there’s a difference in the way Taehyung smiles at you. As if he’s acknowledging something while giving you a salute before walking in the opposite direction.

But the worry doesn’t stay too long on your mind. You need to finish up shopping because on weekdays you always try to get home as soon as you can, considering Miyeon is waiting for you at home.

Just as you found a seat inside the subway, a new message pops up on your phone screen.

[Jungkook]: checking whether you still have my number saved, because Tae just told me you said hi

[Jungkook]: hi to you too

[Jungkook]: (pic)

A smile blooms on your face, because not only is he cute, but why does he need to send a picture of himself visibly sweating, probably after a round of soccer.

[You]: well I accidentally bumped into him at the supermarket and he said you guys are playing soccer tonight, I just did what’s customary ;p

[You]: So did you guys defend yourself against the engineering guys?

[Jungkook]: barely. Will you still be cooking with me if we lose?

[You]: of course, consider it as a consolidation meal

[Jungkook]: lets see if I can turn it into victory meal on second round

[You]: I’ll add a dessert if you win

[Jungkook]: that’s enough motivation for me

You smile again, silently wishing for his good luck. For a second you think of asking him about what Taehyung had said earlier. But maybe it would be better to ask directly tomorrow. Probably then you can see his real reaction, whether he’s truly forgotten or… is there another reason? A reason that makes your heart race just by the thought of it.

But by Saturday afternoon, you are humbled by the fact that some plans are not meant to be realized. That life always throws a curveball whenever you think things are going smoothly–or maybe in your case when you’ve been very excited and look forward to it. 

You’ve already had a hunch when Seonho didn’t contact you at all until almost 3 PM. He always texts you whenever he’s on his way to pick up Miyeon. And somehow today, you kind of expected him to be late. 

What you didn’t expect though is for him to totally bail. At 4 PM he finally calls you, saying he still can’t leave work and probably can’t take Miyeon this weekend. Of course it’s not the first time. In the span of one year since the divorce, obviously there were times when you and Seonho could not keep up with your arranged schedule. So this should not be something that you can’t handle.

But apparently there is something different this time that makes you bothered beyond belief, yet at the same time, being bothered makes you feel very guilty. Because to think about being annoyed that your ex husband can’t take your daughter with him so that you can go to your ex boyfriend’s apartment sounds very wrong within your moral compass. You shouldn’t feel that way, it’s like betraying the very essence of motherhood. Nothing should be more important than the well-being of your child. 

However, you’re merely a human being with emotions. Sometimes we can’t regulate what we actually feel with what we should be feeling. This makes–not only your heart–your head ache.

[You]: I’m so sorry, I think we need a raincheck for tonight. Seonho couldn’t come, so I can’t leave Miyeon alone

[Jungkook]: It’s ok. Your daughter is more important. 

On the other side of the city, Jungkook types his reply earnestly. Because he can understand. But understanding doesn’t mean he’s not disappointed. Not with you, and especially not with your daughter, only with the fact that the plan he was looking forward to tonight could not be realized. He looks around his apartment and sighs, feeling more saddened because he just spent half a day cleaning and re-arranging the place. Not that it was a total wreckage in the first place, he always keeps his place tidy, but he did spend a dedicated time this afternoon to make sure everything is ‘in place’. No dirty clothes lying around, no game controller left abandoned on the sofa, mopping the floor twice to ensure no dirt and dust are left behind, and honestly, last night he even stopped by the store to buy a new slipper for you. 

Not that he counts the effort. Again, not at all. But the amount of disappointment he’s feeling right now makes him realize how much he really wants it.

He opens his text message to you once again, thumb hovering on screen, debating whether he wants to send another text to you. Even though he’s unsure what to say. All that he knows is just that he was prepared to be with you tonight. To enjoy your presence and company.

[Jungkook]: hey… was just wondering if it’s ok if maybe I go there instead? You’ve bought the groceries anyway, let’s make good use out of it. 

[Jungkook]: only if you’re comfortable

You didn’t think he’d ask that.

You didn’t think he would actually try to spend time with you even though the circumstances had changed. But it was surely a pleasant surprise when you received his texts. 

So when by 9PM you received another one informing he’s outside, you instantly get up from the couch and make your way to the front door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he scratches the back of his head and shyly smiles, “didn’t want to ring the doorbell, afraid it will wake somebody up.”

At first you were afraid he would perceive you differently when you said that you would love him to come but only after everyone’s asleep, but he assured you he understands. It’s not because you didn’t want him to meet Miyeon, but selfishly, you wanted this for yourself. This part of your life, this moment, with the man who looks too handsome for his own good at 9PM standing in your doorway with mussed hair and gentle smile. You want to preserve this moment for the single woman part of you, not the responsible daughter or mother. 

“Thank you for considering. Everyone’s asleep, I told my mom though that you’re coming, come on.”

Stepping aside, you give him a moment to take his shoes off and shrug his denim jacket aside. With a boyish grin, he presents you a plastic bag containing a box of fried chicken and two bottles of soju, as promised.

The next twenty minutes you spend in your kitchen, cooking the jajangmyeon while trying to maintain the laughs and giggles in minimum volume so as to not awaken your mother and Miyeon. You knew Jungkook likes to cook by himself, he told you several times, but what you didn’t know was how serious he is with it. 

The sound of knives against the cutting board and the scent of frying Chunjang (black bean paste) fill your kitchen. While you are focused on dicing some vegetables, Jungkook is busy stirring the sauce in front of the stove.

You glance at him and can’t help but smile seeing his eyebrows knit together in the middle while he’s all focused.

“How’s the sauce coming along, Kook?”

Jungkook looks up from the pan, eyes softening as they meet yours. His smile is comfortable, reassuring, “it’s perfect, come look.”

You lean in towards the stove, shoulder brushing with his firm one. The warmth from the stove and the warmth from him are suddenly one and the same.

“Wow, you’re really good at this, unless it’s packaged sauce, mine always looks like mud or asphalt.”

Jungkook lets out a low chuckle, his voice then sounds more encouraging when he explains, “it’s all in this first step. You have to roast the Chunjang in oil first to remove the raw and salty edge. It adds to the depth of the taste.”

Your breath hitches when he looks at you directly, “most instant recipes skip this, but if you wanted to make it properly, you can’t. That’s the difference between eating for survival and eating for pleasure. And honestly, I prefer pleasure.”

Why on earth he needs to add a wink after that last sentence is beyond you.

As if that act alone didn’t make your heart flutter, he then takes the wooden spoon from the simmering pot, dipping the tip of his index finger into the rich, dark Jajang sauce. The next moment feels like a slow-mo movie scene as he brings his finger to his mouth, tasting it with a focused intensity that makes your stomach clench involuntarily. You can tell he’s mouthing the word ‘perfect’ even though no sound is coming out from his lips. 

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he dips his finger again, coating the pad with the thick, savoury sauce. His focus turns to you, gaze lifting to meet yours in a quiet challenge. He doesn’t need to say a word to explain his next action as he moves his hand, the sauce-tipped finger closer to your lips. The air is charged, tension thickens with every thrum of your heartbeat when you tilt your head just a little bit, lips parting slightly to meet his finger halfway, eyes never leaving each other as you gently draw the sauce into your mouth with a soft, sensual press. His thumb grazes your chin lightly, as you taste the flavourful sauce, fingers ghosting over your jaw.

“How is it?” 

God, he really doesn’t need to whisper like that.

Your effort not to stutter fails miserably when you answer him, “g-good, delicious.”

“Yeah? Good enough for you?”

More than enough, you think. But the words don’t come out of your mouth. Instead, your eyes stray from his eyes to his lips, subtly glistening under the warm light of your kitchen. And the same thing happens to him, as you see his eyes drop to your lips. For a moment you feel like you just put on your noise cancelling headphones as everything goes silent. Your heartbeat thrums loudly, your palms sweaty as the distance grows closer and closer.

Unfortunately, things really don’t want to go your way that day. Because just when you’re about to close your eyes, Jungkook’s lips inches away from yours, your timer goes off, signalling the chicken reheating inside your oven should be done. 

Both of you jolt back in reflex, eyes darting everywhere as you regulate the increased beating of your heart. 

“Th-the chicken,” you murmur and Jungkook clears his throat, nodding a few times before searching for some gloves to take it out from the oven.

You move swiftly to turn off the stove, stirring the Jajang sauce one last time before preparing the noodles on a plate, “I think everything’s set?” trying your best to keep your voice steady even though you can still feel the heat of the previous moment in your cheeks and stomach.

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, moving the chicken from the pan to a serving dish you’ve prepared earlier, “where do you want to eat?”

Contemplating your choices, you scan the dining table quickly before eyeing the coffee table in the living room. The dining table should be more practical, but the coziness of sitting on the rug, backs against the couch while the television is playing something as a background noise seems much more inviting, especially to soothe whatever tension between you and Jungkook before.

“How about the living room? Is it okay for you?”

“Wherever you’re comfortable with, Y/N.”

So you nod once again and start making your way to the living room, two bowls of Jajangmyeon in your hands while Jungkook carries the chicken and beers. You go back to the kitchen to take out some fresh kimchi and utensils, all the while Jungkook is arranging the food and drinks on the table.

You spend the next 30 minutes lost in conversations and food. Bodies relaxing against the couch, bowls in one hand while the other holding onto chopsticks, picking out some banchans or chickens in between taking the noodles and slurping it into your mouth. Jungkook wasn’t kidding when he said that roasting the beans adds more depth into the sauce because holy hell, the taste is incredible.

“This is hands down one of the best Jajangmyeon I had in a while.”

“Yeah? You like it?” Jungkook asks while sipping his beer, clearly amused by your satisfied face.

“So much, I can eat this a whole week.”

“That’s gotta be excessive.”

“Says mister I can eat daechang everyday.”

Jungkook laughs, and his laugh is always infectious to you. Your body shakes with muffled laughter, still remembering how your mother and Miyeon are fast asleep upstairs. In the middle of it all, you catch Jungkook’s gaze upon you. You try to hold your eyes on him too, but alas, you’re not as strong as you think you are, because it doesn’t take a minute for you to look away with cheeks as warm as the bowl of freshly cooked jajangmyeon.

“What?” you finally ask when you find out he is still eyeing you in between sipping his beer.

“Just appreciating this.”

“What’s there to appreciate that original plan is completely u-turned?”

“I think it’s a blessing in disguise.”

You decide to take a gulp from your own beer can, oblivious to what should be a correct response to his remark. 

The TV is turned on and currently playing a random episode of How I Met Your Mother. A series you both decided to ‘watch’ when you started eating the food. But honestly, you haven’t paid attention to it the whole time. Not when the conversation flew easily, from the soccer match to random recipe hacks. 

And now, even the brush of his knees against yours on the rug feels amplified. 

“Thanks for letting me come by, and messing your kitchen up,” Jungkook adds, setting down his beer can on the table, his right arm resting upon the couch, fingers barely touching your elbow.

You shake your head, “thanks to you I get to eat a delicious meal, and free beers and chickens.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

You put your beer can on the table too, next to his, before resting your head on the couch. He finally finds a place for his fingers to brush over your hair.

“I like this,” his voice softened, eyes boring into yours.

“The food or…”

He chuckles, moving closer, “the food only complimenting it.”

“Me too then…” everything feels too good for you, full belly, warmth tingling sensation in your heart, every stroke of his hands, you absentmindedly move your head even closer to his palm. 

And Jungkook feels it. He can see the longing in your eyes. It matches his.

“You know… Taehyung asked about you.”

Oh, he finally told you about it. But why at this moment? 

“Hmm?”

You can see his hesitation for a second, but Jungkook is determined to clear it out with you first before anything.

“He asked for your number. He’s interested in you.”

You then hold your head up from the couch, “uhm… yeah, he mentioned it when I ran into him at the supermarket.”

“Yeah… so… that’s that…” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” he tries to counter.

“I mean, why not before?”

“Did you give him your number?”

“What would you prefer me to do, Kook?”

You can tell he is battling himself by the way he holds his word, teeth biting into his lower lip, eyebrows knitted in the middle of his forehead.

“I did give him my number,” you sigh, “I mean, I did it because he asked me whether you had mentioned it to me, which you didn’t, so I… just thought…”

Jungkook cups your chin in his hand, thumb gently brushing your cheek, “did he call you yet?”

“No.”

“Would you want him to?”

You close your eyes momentarily as your lips release another sigh from his gentle stroke, “I asked you that question first.”

“I…” another soft stroke and his thumb slowly descend to your lower lips, “can I kiss you?”

Opening your eyes, you nod your head before his lips finally claim yours. It’s tentative, exploring, but definitely different from your first kiss with him 15 years ago. 

He was your first kiss, but to think of it again, maybe it was just a peck. A brush of lips meeting lips in a few seconds until you both pulled away out of timidness and shyness. But now, it feels totally different. His lips slotting against yours deeper, his moves are more precise and experienced, making your whole body weak. 

It feels like a dam finally breaks with the way his hand moves to your nape, pulling you even closer if it’s possible as one of your legs already moved by itself over his thigh. Your heartbeat thrums loudly making your palms sweaty but dear God you wish the time stands still. If there are moments you want to freeze in time and memory, this certainly is one of them. 

For a few seconds all you can hear is just wet sounds of your lips locking, a few whimpers from you and breathy exhales from him. You can feel his hesitance as his hands travel around your body, never really putting it on places you wish he would. 

So, you do the most logical thing, take his free hand–not the one which is currently holding the back of your head, moving you gently the way he wants to devour your lips–and put it somewhere that matters.

“Fuck,” he mutters as your hand guide his to your ass.

Soon you realize that your decision wasn’t a good one. Because the moment his hand squeezes your ass, pulling your body even closer to his, you let out a loud moan which makes you realize that you are still in your living room downstairs while your daughter and mother are currently asleep upstairs.

Suddenly you’re hyper aware of every little sound in your house, worrying that someone might have woken up. You try to resist his kisses, try to put your hands on his hard chest while he’s still lost in you, licking your lips asking for entrance. 

And you’re just a weak woman for Jungkook. Because you obey, separating your lips to let his tongue wander further. Whimpers of hesitation turn into desperation when you feel his bulge brushes deliciously against your aching core. He grunts, pulling you even closer as his lips travel to your jaw, making you circle your arms around his neck, fingers threading on his soft hair.

Just as you let out another soft moan–courtesy of Jungkook kissing the right spot under your ear–you hear the sound of a door opening, and a sleepy voice.

“Eomma? Where are you?”

You stand up hastily, peeling yourself away from Jungkook’s warmth. Jungkook instinctively steadying your hips as you’re about to fall from your panicked moves. 

“J-just leave everything, I will clean it up later,” you say without even looking back at him, heart stammering inside your chest.

Jungkook can see the guilt behind your eyes as you hurriedly make your way upstairs. He rubs his face as he sighs softly. Not because he’s disappointed, but he’s genuinely concerned whether you regret what just happened. He clearly doesn’t. But he can see you look upset.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jungkook decides it’s too late to extend his welcome, so he cleans everything up and leaves your house quietly.

[Jungkook]: Hey, just wanted to let you know that I’m glad we kissed. I hope you feel the same way. Let’s talk when you’re available. Good night.

You know it’s stupid to avoid him. But you can’t shake that guilty feeling which has been eating you alive for a couple weeks now. You know you shouldn’t feel that way. Especially after reading his last message. You’re single, he’s single, there’s nothing wrong with two single people wanting each other. But this is uncharted territory for you. Navigating your desire while maintaining a status as a single mom. You feel irresponsible to give into your desire while there are too many responsibilities. It struck you the most when you realized how frustrated you were when Miyeon called you. 

That guilt of wanting something for yourself is something you still need to manage. Because you are someone who is not used to prioritizing herself. Spending your life growing as an eldest daughter, then getting married quite young, being a mother, it’s as if you were never given time to think about your own desire as you are too used to thinking about how your actions will implicate others.

You don’t realize you’ve been looking straight to the TV, remote on hand, and yet, haven’t even turned the thing on. Memory keep playing back to that night, on this exact location, the same couch, his hands on yours, his quiet whimpers, the feeling of being wanted, by the man you really want for yourself too–

“Y/N?”

You almost drop the remote when your mother makes her appearances in the living room. Already dressed in her sleeping gown, a cup of ginseng tea on hand. She frowns slightly as the room is left dark, and yet, you don’t even turn the television on.

“What are you doing?”

“J-just watching the TV.”

She pauses a moment, before turning on the light. She studies your face for a second before asking silently whether she can sit next to you. You nod your head gently, giving her some space.

“Is there something wrong? You’ve been quite distracted lately.”

Well, she’s not wrong. You’ve almost packed Miyeon’s daycare backpack with your own lunchbox and green juice.

Also, that one day, instead of packing her a set of clothes (for backup if her clothes are wet that day), you put two pairs of trousers. Thank goodness her clothes remained dry and clean the whole day.

And maybe, this is not the first time your mother caught you unfocused in the past few weeks.

“Something happened with Seonho?” she asked carefully. Knowing you had been through hell and it might still be quite a sensitive subject.

You shake your head slowly, fingers moving nervously around your loose t-shirt hem. As you ponder whether to talk to her about it, she asks again, even slower than before.

“Is it Jungkook?”

And when you froze for a second, she knew she hit the right spot. 

“I haven’t heard from him lately, is he okay?”

“Y-yeah… I supposed so… I haven’t talked to him for a while too…”

“Why? I thought… you two are… closer again?” she asks again, still tentatively.

Seeing the concern in her eyes, you think maybe you could finally talk to someone about this. You are hesitant at first, because how could you discuss something like this with your own mother? But then you remember, she had been helpful too during your difficult period with Seonho. 

“We… kind of did… it’s just… I feel… guilty… and just confused because… the more I want to be with him… makes me forget about my responsibility as Miyeon’s mom… even confessing this makes me feel guilty because… how could you possibly put a man over your own daughter…”

Your mother hums softly, “I can understand where you’re coming from,” she puts her glass on the coffee table and makes herself sit more comfortably, “but don’t you think Jungkookie is a good man?”

Nodding your head, your mind travels to the memories of the past few months. He really is a good man, isn’t he? You recall his big brown eyes widened earnestly every time you start a conversation. And the way he is always turning towards your every bid–something you learnt in your therapy, about couple’s compatibility and how a healthy relationship requires each person to respond positively towards the other’s bid, or an invitation to connect–something you were missing with Seonho before. He rarely responds to your bid, especially towards the period where you know he’d been seeing someone else.

“What Miyeon deserves is a happy mother, and a happy mother requires you to be in a healthy mental space. I think your relationship with Jungkookie has helped you a lot in that case. I could see how much happier you were. You know, you got less frustrated with Miyeon lately. You talked even softer to her, as if… you gained more patience?” your mom says.

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did,” your mom pats your shoulder gently, “and as your mother, it makes me happy seeing you like that. I know you keep a lot to yourself, but I know what you went through was not easy. My dear, you deserve to be happy, and you deserve to think about yourself too. You have me, you have Kiho, we will all help you with Miyeon, you don’t have to worry about that. But you’re the only one who can help yourself with your heart.”

It’s very impulsive and your heart is still beating so fast from all the rush. Moments after your conversation with your mother, you texted Jungkook. Yeah, shameless really. After a couple weeks of radio silence. And worse, after an intimate moment you shared with him. You should not expect him to reply that fast, or at all. But he did.

[You]: Hey… can we talk? Sorry it took me this long.

[Jungkook]: Sure. Tell me when and where.

[You]: Can you share me your address? And can I come over? Like… right now?

Your mother had told you that she would sleep with Miyeon tonight. So, you don’t have to worry about her. That is why you find yourself just outside Jungkook’s apartment lobby at 10 PM on a weekday. 

“Hey.”

He sounds the same. He looks the same too, a familiar view of Jungkook in a black zip up hoodie and a pair of sweatpants greets you as the automatic door opens up. 

“H-hi… I’m sorry it’s so late and I–”

“Y/N,” his voice stern but gentle, “let’s go upstairs.”

You follow him to the elevator. The silence in between does make you move awkwardly. Something you haven’t been doing whenever you’re around him–even from the first time you saw him again. But you know it’s on you. You’re the one who ghosted him, left his message unreplied with the last impression that maybe you might regret what happened between you two.

Jungkook opens his unit door and lets you go inside first. You instinctively take off your shoes and your heart skips a beat upon seeing a woman’s size slipper just beside one you assumed is his–black and obviously man’s size. For a moment you think that maybe there was another woman he welcomed. But then again, who are you to control what he could and couldn’t do.

“I bought it a few weeks ago when we were supposed to hang out here. You know, to cook,” he says as if sensing your wandering mind.

“I’m sorry…”

He looks at you for a second, does not respond to your word directly but gesturing you to follow him towards what you assume is his living room. He then takes a seat on the couch and again, signalling you to also do the same.

“Again… I’m sorry… Kook, I really am I don’t–”

“What are you sorry about exactly?” he stops you mid sentence, knowing the way you avoid his gaze means you’re about to ramble around. It’s not like he doesn’t want to hear you rambling. Hell, he always finds it cute. But he needs you to cut to the chase right now. He’s been on the verge for the past few weeks. He knows your situation, and he has been trying to comprehend, trying to put himself in your shoes. And yes, moving on from a long committed relationship is not easy. There’s always a lingering feeling of whether you’re doing the right thing. Is it too fast, will this last, what would your ex think, and to add a child in that equation must have been overwhelming too. So, yeah, Jungkook could understand a fraction of what you might be feeling. But God does he need to hear how you feel about that night too. 

“For leaving you on read…” you answer truthfully, because that’s the point that makes you feel so bad.

“Yeah, that was a little bit cruel,” he responds, a faint chuckle leaving his lips, “but really, what I’m dying to know is whether you regret it or not, Y/N.”

You can feel your heartbeat rising as your eyes locked with his. You think this might be your first time seeing that look on him. Piercing gaze looking straight to yours. Gone the friendly-neighbour Jungkook look you’re familiar with. You should feel intimidated really, but on the contrary, you are drawn to him. Like you want to prove to him that no, you don’t regret it at all. 

So, you gather your courage and move closer on the couch, knees brushing his as you keep your eyes locked.

“No,” you shake your head slightly, “it’s the opposite really. I… I wanted you so bad it scared me.”

He moves closer too. Now that he hears your confession, he finds more confidence to cup your cheek, thumb brushes the apple gently, “yeah? Why? Did I scare you?”

“Not you,” you sigh, feeling his caresses, “just… I feel like a bad mom because for the first time in a long time, I wish I didn’t need to think about being a mom for a while and just…”

“Just…” he trails off, thumb moving closer to your lower lips, trying to control his urges seeing you close your eyes momentarily.

“Just be with you. Truly be with you.”

“You don’t need to forget about being a mom to be with me, I don’t mind that part of you at all, you just need to tell me what you feel and I’ll try to adjust as much as I can.”

“I know, that’s why I’m saying it’s not you, it’s me,” you lean your cheek deeper into his palm, “it’s scary because that night I was really disappointed and frustrated that… she woke up while I’m… while I wanted…”

He can sense your wants just by seeing the look on your face, so Jungkook moves even closer, his other hand moves to your nape, making your breath hitch, “you wanted what?” he leans down to you, nose brushing your jaw gently.

Your sanity officially leaves the chat when he finally kisses the back of your ear, an open mouthed one that leaves your skin wet but God you don’t mind at all. You can feel slick gushing from your core just from that one move. Your hands move instinctively around his neck, pulling him closer, “I want you, God, I want you so much.”

“Yeah? I want you too,” he trails kisses down your jaw, “can’t stop thinking about you it’s driving me insane,” as his lips brushes yours, he stops, closing his eyes, he mumbles against your lips, “let me have you?”

Your answer comes by taking his lips into a deep kiss, tightening your hold around his neck as he maneuvers you to sit on his lap, your thighs part to trap him in between yours. 

It’s been too long for you to feel this desired, even just from a kiss. The way he moves your head, his tongue begging for entrance before battling yours, everything he does ignites the fire inside you.

“Can I have you?” he asks again, hands starting to move downwards towards your back, silently waiting for your answer before touching you in places he really desires.

“I’m yours, Kook,” you kiss him again before leaning back a little, fingers fiddling with the buttons of your blouse while keeping your eyes locked on him. It spurs you seeing how darker his eyes are getting. Lips red and swollen from the makeout session earlier, he rests his head against the couch, licking his lower lip.

“Show me what’s mine then.”

Holy hell, never knew being commanded like this makes you so aroused. So you unbutton your blouse slowly, giving a peek of that white lace bra you specifically picked earlier because sue you for being prepared. 

You’re just a second done from peeling your blouse off when his hand palms your breast. Thumb grazing your nipple through the lacey fabric already making you whimper. 

Jungkook leans forward, lips peppering kisses around your collarbone as he whispers against your skin, “pretty, is this mine?”

“Y-yes.”

“Show me what else is mine,” he commands after giving your chest a sloppy kiss and leans back again, waiting for you to make your next move.

You take the cue and get on your feet to take off your pants, trying your best to be seductive and sexy, but Jungkook can see your hands trembling so he leans forward to hold your hand.

“Hey, hey, you okay? We don’t have to do this.”

“No,” you firmly reply, because you DO really want it. It’s just… it’s been a while for you and the fact that you’ve only been intimate with your ex-husband has just dawned on you as you are lowering down your pants.

“I mean, I want this, it’s just… been a while.”

“I get it,” he responds, pulling you gently to his lap again–sans pants now, “come here, let me make you feel good,” lips peppering kisses down your neck, “don’t be shy, baby, feel what you’ve done to me,” he pulls your hips down against his hardened bulge under his sweatpants.

“Nghh,” you can help but moan when finally feeling that long awaited friction against your damp panties.

Seeing how you like it, Jungkook holds your butt with both hands before getting up, making you hold onto him tightly as he carries you across the room to where you assume is his bedroom. 

Turns out you’re right, because then he lays you down on the bed, comforting cool cotton against your skin as you regulate your breathing from seeing him take off his hoodie first, and then a plain white t-shirt, before his bare torso greets your eyes. 

And what a magnificent view it is. You finally get what you’re wishing for, to witness his tattoo along his right arm until the upper part of his chest. His shoulder to waist ratio is borderline sinful. 

As your eyes trail down, the obvious tent on his grey sweatpants makes you both gulp and gush. You don’t think you ever salivate over a man like this before.

But before you can think further, Jungkook gets on the bed, caging you in, cups your face with one hand before kissing you again. You don’t waste anymore time exploring his body. Your smaller hands roam his sculpted body deliberately. And when he moans against your lips in specific places, you can’t help but raise your hips to meet his, chasing that delicious friction to your core.

He shucks his pants off along with his boxer hastily before grinding his hips against yours, “see how much I want you, can you feel it?”

“Y-yes, please, Jungkook…”

“Let me open you up,” he swallows your moan as his finger makes its way inside you, “God you’re so tight like this.”

“Please,” you squeeze his big arms, “please…”

“What do you need? Tell me, Baby,” lips all over your neck and jaw, he slowly adds a second finger, thumb circling on your pulsing clit.

The pleasure intensifies as you feel tears prickling your eyes, hips chasing his hands rapidly, “I need you inside, please…”

“My fingers are inside.”

Even in your state you can make out his smug smirk, teasing you.

“I need your dick, please, put it inside me.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

You pry your eyes open in between desperate whimpers. Gone the teasing smirk, his gaze is deep, focusing on you.

“Promise I’ll make you feel good, okay? Enjoy this with me?”

You nod a few times, breath hitching each second as his fingers move faster.

And then he slows down, taking it out of you as you gasp, already longing for his touch.

Before the cold air can even settle against your skin, he shifts, parting your thighs wider and settling his weight right between them. His length lines up against you, hot and thick, pressing into your slick warmth but not putting it in just yet.

“Fuck,” he closes his eyes momentarily before opening it again, leans down as he brushes his lips against yours, “feel how much I want you, how hard you make me?” 

“Please… Kook, I want you too.”

He slowly pushes into you, inch by inch. You let out a shaken whimper as your body stretches to accommodate him. He’s big, that’s the first thing you realize as you feel the stretch is in between pleasure and pain. 

“F-fuck,” Jungkook groans into your mouth, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He stops moving for a second when he feels like he reaches deep enough, lips devouring yours in slow kisses to ease that tension he can feel on your body.

When he feels your hips start moving, searching for more, he begins to move, a slow, deep, devastatingly thorough rhythm. It’s not rough—not yet—but the sheer weight and depth of each stroke are dizzying. Every time he pulls back, it feels like a loss, and every time he drives back in, he leans his full weight into you, making sure you feel the hard press of his hips against yours, anchoring you to the bed. 

“Kook, please,” you start to sob with every deep thrust, your fingers digging into the tight muscles of his back, your hips instinctively lifting to meet him. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his lips catching yours in a deep, bruising kiss, “fuck you feel so good,” he pairs the kiss with a sudden, sharper angle, hitting a spot deep inside that makes your toes curl and your vision go blurry. 

It’s been so long since you’ve been held like this, making the sudden rush of intimacy feels like a physical shock to your system. Every touch of his skin against yours, the heavy slide of him stretching you open, triggers a wave of electricity that ripples straight to your core. And you’re defenseless against it. Your body reacts on its own, you let out a loud moan as your head rolls back into the pillow, your senses entirely overwhelmed. 

“Too much?” Jungkook asks, his voice thick with a mix of concern and need. He pauses his moves, chest heaving against yours, but he doesn't pull out. He stays buried deep, letting you feel the pulsing thickness of him. 

"No, no, don't stop," you cry out, the words frantic as you hook your legs higher around his waist, "It’s just... I’ve never... God, Jungkook, please."

The thing is, it’s not just the physical aspect of it. It’s in the way he looks at you, touches you like you’re the only thing that matters in this world, the way his large hand anchors your hips as if he’s afraid of losing you makes your heart and body flutter. 

"I'm not stopping, Baby, I can’t," he growls, the sweet reassurance melting into a possessive rumble as he begins to move again. 

This time, he picks the pace up. Your hips chase him blindly, movements uncoordinated and desperate as you both chase the high. You’re coming apart at the seams, tears spill over your lashes, blurring your vision of his face while you arch more into his heavy, deep thrusts. 

One of his hand snakes over your chest, kneading your breast roughly as his thumb brushes hard over the peak. Your hips instantly buck upward against him, a high, broken gasp catching in your throat as your inside walls tighten and begin to throb in anticipation. 

“I’m close, I’m so close, Kook, please…”

“Yeah? Come all over me, come on, be a good girl and come for me.” 

His deep, gravelly voice is the final push your body needs as white-hot waves of pleasure crash straight through you. Your internal muscles clamp down around him in desperate, tight spasms as the orgasm rips out of you. Pulling him even closer, you cry his name out against his neck, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders as your hips tremble violently against his. This might be the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced in your entire life, leaving you a breathless, shivering wreck. 

Jungkook groans heavily, his jaw clenching as he absorbs the intense, squeezing pressure of your climax. He holds himself deep inside you for a few seconds, letting you ride out the peak, his hands gently rubbing up and down your thighs to soothe your trembling body.

“That’s it, Baby,” he murmurs, tone softening while peppering soft, comforting presses along your jawline, “did so good, made a mess of my dick.”

When your breath begins to level out, you feel him slightly shift. But he doesn't pull back. Instead, the heavy thickness of him presses deeper, still rock-hard and pulsing against your sensitive walls. A low, warning chuckle vibrates in his chest when you let out a tiny whine.

“Yeah, so… I’m not done with you yet,” he nudges your nose gently, a stark contrast with the way his hard dick is pulsing inside you, “you think you can still handle it?”

“Y-yeah,” because of course you’re still very much physically attracted to him. Especially now with his damp black hair, buffed chest glistening with sweat and oh so intoxicating sex-induced smell of his body. So whatever sensitivity you feel down there, yeah, it really can be negotiated.

You show him by pulling his head closer, capturing his reddened lips with yours in a deep sensual kiss, tongue searching for him while your small hand roams over his tight abs.

“I want you to cum, Kook, fuck me until you cum,” you mumble in between kisses, earning a hiss from him before he picks your body, move up on the bed as he sits against the headboard with you on his lap.

Your hands instinctively hold onto his shoulder, lifting your body, you watch him stroking his dick with one hand while the other guiding your hips slowly down. 

You know it’s going to burn a little from this position, but damn it’s worth the pain when he is finally buried to the hilt. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he groans, head snapping back against the headboard. With his large hands anchoring you, you begin to ride him. The position allows you to feel him even deeper, hitting new spots that send hot pleasure all over your senses. Jungkook guides your rhythm, thumbs rubbing your hips, pulling you down harder when he needs more pressure. 

When you thought he couldn’t look hotter, you’re proven wrong. Not when his glassy eyes darken with desire bore into yours, half-lidded, breath ragged with sweats rolling down from his neck to chest. 

He catches your look, a lazy smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. His hand cups your face, thumb pulling your bottom lip down, “you look so sexy like this, riding my dick so good, gonna let me have this forever, yeah?”

You nod, tongue brushing his thumb before catching the whole thing and sucking it eagerly. 

Jungkook snaps his head back harder this time, strings of curses escape his lips as he bucks his hips faster. Pulling his thumb off of you, he uses it to circle your clit. It really doesn’t take long before you feel that familiar bubbling sensation, waiting to burst. And when he leans forward to take one of your bouncing breasts into his mouth and suck greedily, you feel  the coil snaps inside, sending jolts of pleasure all over your body. 

Before you can process anything, in one fluid, effortless motion, he pulls you out and shifts you onto your knees between his legs. He reaches down, his fingers gently tangling in your hair to guide your head down toward his lap, where his length is pulsing and heavy. 

"Open up for me, baby," he begs, his voice dropping into a rough, desperate whisper as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, “take it for me, let me cum in your pretty mouth please.”

How could you say no when he asks you so nicely, but also, you want it, badly. You want to see him fall apart the way he made you two times earlier. Looking up at him through your lashes, you part your lips and take his hot, heavy length. The sensation makes Jungkook let out a loud, guttural groan, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands tighten in your hair, holding you gently but firmly in place. He begins to move his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, whole body shaking with the strain of holding back.

"So good... fuck, gonna cum," he pants, his breath hitching as the climax finally hits him, fingers anchoring you as he releases inside your mouth. He holds himself there for a few seconds, riding out the powerful, pulsing waves of his climax while whispering breathless, sweet praises to you. You instinctively swallow everything, before wiping your lips with your hand.

Jungkook immediately reaches for you, his strong arms hooking under your arms to pull you upward until you're collapsed against his chest, head tucked under his chin. He holds you tight, large hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over your bare back. 

“You okay?” he asks, while you feel a gentle kiss on top of your head.

“More than okay,” you emphasize by nuzzling further into the crook of his neck. Sweat be damned.

The quiet of the aftermath brings a sudden, heavy wave of reality crashing back into your mind. You trace a mindless pattern over his collarbone, the warmth of his skin grounding you, but you can’t shake the thoughts away. What happens after this? And did it happen just because of familiarity?

"Jungkook?" you whisper, voice small inside the quiet bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“What happens after this?”

He stops his movement, peering his eyes down at you, making you a little distracted with those glossy boba eyes, very much different from the intense pair when he railed you into the mattress.

“What I want is to be with you, if you have me. I’ll learn whatever you want me to learn, about your routine, what you need from me in terms of your relationship with your daughter,” he strokes your cheek softly, “whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable, because that's what you’ve given me.”

“Comfort?”

“Yeah.”

“What if that’s just what it is.”

“What do you mean?” 

You can see even in faint light how his brows knit together.

“I mean, what if we just fall into a comfortable, familiar area because we already know each other? It's easy to slide back into old patterns when you meet someone from your past. I just... I’m worried that we're confusing nostalgia with something real." 

Jungkook shifts slightly, a small, tender smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he frames your face with his two large hands, leaving you no choice but to look at him in the eyes.

"First of all, comfort is not a bad thing," he says, voice steady and convincing, “I know this might look like it, believe me, I struggle with this thought at first too,” his large thumb brushing the apple of your cheek lightly, “tried to convince myself that we’re just old friends, but I realized that friends could also become lovers. And maybe even better, because not only I want to tell you everything about my day, or whatever interesting comes my way, but also…” his thumb grazes your lips, “I want to kiss you too, I want to hug you, I don’t like the idea of anyone giving you romantic attention–”

“Taehyung?” you say while smiling mischiveously. 

He chuckles with you, head leans a little to give you a quick smooch, “yeah, honestly it was also the moment when I realized, no, I don’t want her to go on a date with him, or anyone else. Because I want to be the only one who takes you out.”

He pulls you back into his embrace, your hand around his waist as you snuggle closer, “I feel that way too… like… I wanna tell you about my day, about what I feel or what makes me laugh.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, “I haven’t felt being heard for a while now… so…”

He holds you tighter, lips pressing another kiss on the top of your head, “I’ll hear you out, and on the days that I’m not 100% in  it, I’ll tell you. And we’ll learn, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both fall into comforting silence, savouring each other’s presence until your bodies adjust itself into an even more comfortable position. Your back against his chest while his arms wrapped around your waist, lips peppering kisses on your shoulder.

“Promise you talk to me if anything’s bothering you, yeah?” he whispers, lips brushing behind your ear.

“Okay… promise you tell me if I did something wrong?” 

Jungkook knows it’s a question based on your previous trauma. So he kisses your shoulder, another one lands behind your ear.

“I will. I won’t shut you out, Y/N, we’ll talk, okay? Even when it’s messy, we’ll talk.”

You turn your body to face him, to look him right in the eye to search for any doubt, any crack, but you found none. He just looks at you with genuine determination.

“What’s running inside this pretty head, huh?” he asks, fingers playfully flicking your forehead.

“You know, at that daechang place, when you asked me how I feel about dating.”

“Oh yeah,” Jungkook remembers that conversation, the night he thought you were so cute.

“And I told you, I was confused, because I wanted something but I don’t know what, because I keep calculating about being a mom and also being a single woman.”

“You know you could be both with me,” he adds, lips pressing a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah, so now I know what I want, it’s something just like this.”

Later, before you go into deep slumber with his arms around your waist, you feel like the lingering doubts in your mind finally begin to settle into a quiet sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this history between you wasn’t a crutch, but a foundation. When you broke up all those years ago, it hadn’t been because the feelings died, life had simply pulled you apart before you were ready. 

And now, fate had thrown you back together after surviving the wreckage of failed marriages—you, walking away from a husband who couldn’t stay faithful, and Jungkook, untangling himself from a relationship that had choked to death on silence and poor communication. Both of you had been broken down, but had also grown up. As you feel the weight of his arms around you protectively, you realize that the scars you both carried were no longer just baggage. They were lessons. You knew the cost of betrayal, and he knew the danger of staying silent. 

Slotting your fingers in between his, you try to believe that this time, the risk might be worth it. Because in this short life, you deserve to love and be loved by the right person. And sometimes, it’s not always a new one.

END

A/N: Thank you so so much for reading, and even more special thanks to those who read the first 2 parts 9 months ago and still want to continue reading this. Again, I'm so sorry for the long update but hopefully the last part make up for it (even just a little hehe).

[almatiarau]

Something just like this - Pt. 2 (Jungkook x y/n)

Summary: In the middle of adjusting your life to being a divorcee with a daughter, you are invited to your middle school reunion. There, you meet your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook, who also has his own struggle. Feeling nostalgic, both of you are involved in a journey of walking down memory lane. Between puppy love and friendship, will romance bloom for a second time? 

Word count: 7k

Warnings: The divorce theme is still heavy in this one, but this chapter is wayy more fluffy than previous.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, possibility of Smut in later chapter

Read part 1 here

Author's Note: First of all thank you to those who had read this story. It's been a while since I write here so it's very exciting for me. I hope you guys don't mind that it's gonna be a 3 part story after all, because I really want to maintain their pace of figuring things out.

Once again my biggest thank you to @euphorajeon for beta reading this chapter, miss girlie please don't hesitate to correct me anytime, I'm soooo grateful for your help!

Lastly, please do let me know if you enjoy this one too, I will appreciate it a lot! Thankss!!

Songs to play: Sweet Creature - Harry Styles, Do I ever cross your mind - Sombr, Hey Lovely - Chance Pena

Taglist: @aznstoner, @lovingkoalaface, @tatzzz-25, @sanarin, @agirlmadeofsteel, @mar-lo-pap, @aiiselle90210, @annyeongbitch7, @roseda, @annpeachy, @jjkluver7, @lj-lovebangtan, @j0cgr0c, @jenc09, @joonam

[You]: Street says this daechang place is to die for [You]: (sent link) [Jungkook]: How reliable is your source?

You smile fondly at his reply. Knowing he must be sporting his mischievous grin.

[You]: The kind of person who sets up alarm for exactly 2.5 minutes whenever he makes his instant ramen [You]: And dips his tangsuyuk [Jungkook]: Impeccable life choices. I’m sold. Saturday 6.30? [You]: Okay

You’ve been doing this kind of exchange for approximately two months now. The texts come casually. Mostly about food, or music, just the two things that seem in neutral territory. And most frequently it resulted in your weekends spent exploring new restaurants, cafes, just places to eat while having endless conversations.

Deep down you know what you’re expecting of this. You can’t also deny the longing you feel each time you interact with Jungkook. How could you not, when the said man has been nothing less than enticing. It makes you confused at times, because you know how good he was even when he was younger, but it feels like it amplifies a hundred times. It’s as if he’s the living proof of the phrase, aging like a fine wine. 

And you’re not just talking about appearance–it might turn into a seminar you’ll gladly host just to break down every single thing about Jungkook that makes your heart pitter patter like a school girl–but the wholesomeness of him. Like the way he always knows what to say, when to say or even not say anything at all. 

It makes you question whether the amount of money and time you’ve spent on therapy is purposeful because you’re literally five seconds away from asking Jungkook, what are we? Knowing if his answer does not involve romantic feelings you might need another six months of intense visit.

So is it even worth it? To risk your heart on the line again? To gamble whether this time around things will last, feelings will stay and the one you’re giving your heart to won’t betray?

The soft snore coming out of Miyeon makes you turn your attention to her, the little girl currently sleeping in your bed. You caress her hair tenderly, appreciating how beautiful she looks with her long lashes falling on her chubby cheeks. And it strikes you, you no longer have the luxury of making foolish decisions. Especially ones that might have implications on Miyeon. Now everything feels exciting because you live in a bubble where there’s only you and Jungkook, but honestly, you haven’t even thought about Miyeon meeting him, or vice versa. It’s as if you’re deliberately doing so in order to separate your life. One as Miyeon’s mother, who has this ugly and fucked up past with an ex-husband and messy feelings, the other one is single and ready to mingle Y/N who enjoys texting with her ex-boyfriend from middle school, excited to see where things are heading. 

You know it’s wrong. But there’s a little voice inside your head who encourages you to do foolish things. Because if you think about it, for the past 10 years you’ve always let your life revolve around Seonho. Every decision and move you make you always consider his feelings or how he would react to it. You wanted to say that his insistent personality made you, but from what you’ve learnt in therapy, probably there’s a part of you which let him do that too. You who wanted to keep things in peace, you who made sure others are happy to deflect any potential arguments. 

And maybe that’s why being with Jungkook feels exhilarating for you. He made you remember how it feels like to be heard, listened to. How easy the conversation was as he never–at least in the past two months you’ve been intensely talking–looked disinterested or made you feel like your opinion doesn’t matter. 

There’s an alarm ringing softly in the corner of your mind saying it’s because you still see him behind rose-colored glasses. The one we usually wear in the early stages of attraction. Where the other person looks like they can do no wrong and being the exact version of our dream partner. You know you wore it too once with Seonho. Until the glasses shattered into million pieces. So what guarantees you that the glasses you wear for Jungkook won’t end up the same?

Still stroking Miyeon’s head gently, you wonder if this struggle inside of you will ever end. Is it your logic speaking or now a defense mechanism built after everything you went through? God, since when did you become so philosophical? You used to be a happy-go-lucky girl, always trying to find the positive side of every circumstance. Guess that’s what happens when it feels like your world tipped over from its axis. You start questioning the fundamentals.

Standing up, you decide it’s time for bed. You don’t think you have any capacity left for more pensiveness. After brushing your teeth, then washing your face and doing a few steps of skincare routine, you scroll on your phone while lying on your bed. As you are about to set up the alarm for the next day, you realize that some of your friends posted happy moments with their loved ones today. There was Wonhee who is currently on vacation with her boyfriend in Jeju, and there was Eunha throwing a birthday party for her youngest daughter, Eunwoo seen spending time with his family on a camping trip. And even though you know that most people only show their good side on social media, this time around, you really know these people. You know they really have that side in their personal life that means the world for them. And you want it too. You want to start sharing your own side of happiness too. Putting your phone on the nightstand, you get yourself comfortable beside your daughter. Of course you are happy with her right now. But as you drift off to sleep, you think about how happier it would feel  to share that love and happiness with someone else. And somewhere along your dreams of the night, that someone looks exactly like the man who's been occupying your mind for the past two months.

You don’t realize how excited you are waiting for Saturday until the day finally comes. It’s barely 5 PM and you’ve been pacing around your bedroom, clothes are scattered across your bed and you are still deciding on what to wear. The restaurant is by no means fancy, it’s another Korean BBQ joint that usually uses a barrel for a seat, why you even bother considering to wear a dress is beyond you. It will also be too much if Jungkook shows up wearing his usual casual attire that you’ve gone accustomed to. A dark hoodie–usually ranging between black or dark grey–a baggy jeans and a pair of black and white sneakers. So, scratch the plan to wear any dresses. 

But maybe a cute little blouse is okay, right? Paired with the jeans you always wear when you want a little confidence boost because it makes your butt look a bit rounder. Also you kind of want to style your hair just a little bit, maybe finally using that hair roller you bought a few months back but never had the occasion to try. Then you finish it off with a plumping lip oil that gives your lips a shiny red sheen. 

When the clock finally turns 6.30 PM right on the dot, you hear the housebell ring. Jungkook is always punctual. Because if he was running late, even for 5 or 10 minutes, he’d text you to let you know. God, how good it is to be with someone who is as considerate as that.

“Hey, always on the dot Mr. Jeon,” you answer the door cheerfully. And just as you thought, Jungkook is in his casual attire, opting for a black sweatshirt, sleeves a bit rolled up revealing his tattoo–that apparently, according to him, runs through his shoulder and chest. Maybe your wish will come true one day and you’ll witness it with your own eyes.

And you expect him to answer you with similar playful banter, but instead, he blinks a few times before clearing his throat, “y-you look great tonight.”

You immediately look down at your outfit, but before you can even mutter a reply, he quickly adds, “I mean not that you didn’t before.”

You don’t know whether you’re hallucinating or not but pretty sure there’s a pink tint on his cheeks when he clears his throat after.

“Thanks, uhm… let me grab my bag real quick.”

“Yeah, okay.”

This time around you go by his car, as the Daechang place is located a bit far from your house. It’s more in the downtown area, filled with restaurants, cafes and bars.

“I was thinking, maybe after dinner we can try a dessert place nearby that serves hotteok-flavored ice cream?” Jungkook says as his car stops at a red light.

“Oh, that sounds interestingly delicious,” you respond excitedly, “how do you know the place?”

“Seoyeon told me last week after I said I wanna try the Daechang place you mentioned.”

“Seoyeon?”

“Oh, she’s a new teaching assistant in my Copywriting class. She joined maybe just two or three weeks ago?" You can tell Jungkook’s a bit unsure about the timing from his voice tone, “she’s a graduate student who wanted to have teaching experience.”

“I see…”

You look away to see whatever is outside that you missed Jungkook’s quick glance at you.

“Yeah, so… she said it’s a very popular joint nowadays and the dessert is good, so I was thinking to take you–”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you say, trying to compose yourself after feeling just a tiny bit of restlessness hearing about this Seoyeon girl. Of course he must have female colleagues. And who knows, he might also have many female friends. Other female friends–you need to correct your thoughts because you definitely also fall into the same category.

This time you can feel his eyes on you before the traffic lights turn green. But he doesn’t say anything else as he drives the car to your destination.

The Daechang place is  bomb. You can definitely say that. You haven’t eaten a lot of it because it being a cow’s intestines sometimes freaks you out, but boy oh boy, you’re clearly missing out on how good it actually is. Yeah it’s greasy and oily but also crispy and tasty, especially when you pair it with kimchi and perilla leaf. Just the way Jungkook is doing in front of you right now. You can’t help but smile seeing him all serious and focused on piling the kimchi and daechang neatly, adding some ssamjang before folding the perilla leaf in his hand. What you don’t expect, though, is for him to look up at you and hold out his hand, gesturing for you to open your mouth so that he can feed you his masterpiece. 

And Lord, you do notice how his other hand is cupped under the folded daechang near your chin to make sure it doesn’t drip to your blouse.

Seeing you momentarily close your eyes while you chew, he chuckles.

“So good right?”

You nod a few times while giving a thumbs up, “I can’t believe I haven’t eaten daechang since forever.”

“Shame. You will need to hold me back physically not to eat this daily,” he adds.

“How do you eat so much yet look like this??” you gesture both of your hands towards him.

“Like what?” The way he arches his eyebrow in amusement is very attractive.

“This… fit?” 

“It’s all about control, Y/N.”

Maybe it’s the beer talking–since you’re drinking for two tonight, as Jungkook opts not to drink with him driving–but you just blurt out your next word.

“Yeah, you seem to be very good with it.”

“Maybe,” he sips his soda but you can see his eyes not leaving yours when he adds, “but I do have my weak moments.”

“Like what? The inability to refuse delicious food?”

You definitely jump head first on this flirty banter–at least you want to think this is, because you may not be in the game for more than 10 years, but what do you call intense eye contact while you turn to feed him a piece of Gopchang using your chopsticks?

“That,” he replies once he finishes chewing, eyes back on you while wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, “and other non food related things.”

If the restaurant is not as bustling with grilling sounds and people talking loudly, you’re pretty sure Jungkook can hear the thumping of your heart right now. Sadly the simmering tension between you two can’t be prolonged as the waiter comes over to prepare cooking your kimchi fried rice. And so between food praises and digesting, your conversation turns back to neutral territory.

After dinner, as per his promise, Jungkook takes you to the dessert place. However, since it’s also his first time, he tries to find the way by juggling between reading the direction via Naver Map and looking for the correct alley name. The cute little cafe is indeed tucked inside a narrow but lively alleyway. And from the moment Jungkook opens the cafe door for you, the sweetly comforting smell of honey and nuts fills your nostril.

“Seoyeon?”

“Oh, Jeon seon-saeng-nim.”

Seoyeon respectfully bows to Jungkook who also nods back in return. She eyes you carefully before giving another respectful bow–which you give back in return. Even though you can’t help yourself to observe what a pretty young woman she is. Long luscious dark locks, small cute face and fair skin, really representing a Korean beauty. Her figure, even though a bit shorter than you, is complimented by the pastel pink dress she wears.

You should have worn the sage green dress in the first place. Casual be damned. 

“This is my friend, Y/N,” Jungkook’s introduction snaps you back in place. He’s not wrong though. Did you really wish he had said you are his ex-girlfriend from the aughts? “And Y/N, this is Seoyeon that I mentioned earlier.”

You shake Seoyeon’s hand while giving the most polite smile you can conjure up at that moment. 

“You really are a regular in this place, huh?”

“I just had dinner with a blind date nearby,” Seoyeon answers while smiling sheepishly, “when I remembered that I told you about this place, so yeah, gotta get myself a dose of hotteok ice cream for sure.”

“Oh that’s nice,” Jungkook replies, “I told Y/N about your suggestion and we are definitely excited to try.”

“One try and I guarantee you’ll be coming back.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

It should be a casual remark from Jungkook, but obviously this man has very little idea about his effect on someone else. Probably someone who might see him in a different light. Like you, and maybe this girl Seoyeon. Because you can see how her cheeks turn a little bit pink as she waits around. Most likely expecting Jungkook to ask where the heck is her ‘date’ because she looks like she’s by herself. At least that’s what you’re curious about.

A few seconds of awkward silence ensues before finally it dawns on Seoyeon that Jungkook isn’t going to ask a follow-up question. Neither will you–obviously. So she bids her farewell and walks out of the cafe with an ice cream cone in her hand.

After deciding to order two kinds of hotteok ice cream–one is a honey nut hotteok flavored ice cream cup and one hot hotteok filled with vanilla ice cream so you can share and have a taste of both best selling items–you and Jungkook find an empty small table to sit on. 

“She seems nice.”

God, you really dive right in. Next time you should rethink drinking alcohol when you’re with him. Although you are definitely not that lightweight. Two glasses of beer should not make you this unhinged.

“Yeah, diligent too. Always comes to the class way earlier before I do, and stays late to help out.”

“Very pretty too. No wonder she’s out and about on dates.”

Yeah you really need to shut up immediately. Better start shoving that ice cream down your throat or you're definitely going to embarrass yourself more.

Jungkook looks at you with what you assume is another amused look. One eyebrow arches while a faint smirk decorates his handsome face. Before it disappears when he takes a spoonful of ice cream.

“Do you think about it?”

You are caught off guard when he suddenly asks.

“Think about what?”

“Going out on dates.”

Suddenly the sweet taste of ice cream fades away in your mouth. You try to decipher his expression, which gives you nothing, because he looks relaxed and at ease. 

“I don’t know… do you?”

“I’m the one asking here,” Jungkook answers while leaning back on his chair, arms crossing. 

Is there anything he does that’s not attractive? Because now as you see him poking his tongue inside his cheek, eyes glinting with mischief, it feels like you have no option but to obey him. Do whatever he says–or in this case, answer his question truthfully.

“Well… I really don’t know. I mean, okay, truthfully right now I’m in this independent woman-type-of-headspace, the whole quote of not needing a man is really what’s been playing inside my mind,” if you’re going to be drunk yapping then let this be your moment, “but…”

“But?”

Can he please stop arching his stupid eyebrow, it’s distracting enough to the point of making you jittery.

“But… wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who… you can share your happy moments with… and sad moments too. Obviously sad moments too… and stay… just stay. I don’t even know what I want, I mean I want something, but what kind of thing is still,” you make a spiraling gesture with your finger just beside your head.

Deciding you can’t take another embarrassing yapping moment under his stare, you take your spoon and scoop on some melted ice cream. But just when you’re about to feed it to your mouth, Jungkook leans in, grasps your wrist and maneuvers it towards his open one.

“You’re cute when you talk like that, you know?” he says after swallowing the ice cream with ease. Definitely not caring about the after effect of his action. He’s the one who’s still munching on more ice cream but it really feels like you’re the one who’s about to choke.

“But I get what you mean,” he adds, finally letting go of your wrist, “in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs theory, even when our physiological and safety needs are met, we humans long for a sense of connection with others, like family, friendship or intimacy.”

“Wow, okay, Jeon seon-saeng-nim, you’re really going to counter me with theory now?” 

He laughs seeing your pretend-to-be-butthurt face, “it’s not a counter, if anything, I’m justifying your opinion.”

“So… does that mean you also feel like that?”

He leans back in his seat once again, and even though he looks you right in the eyes again, this time, there’s a softness to it,  “well, I’m also a human being like you, aren’t I?”

You chuckle gently, “I don’t think this is the type of conversation that should be happening while eating dessert, I might need soju and chicken for this.”

“That can be arranged,” now you’re the one who arches your eyebrow at him, “aside from serious money, I happen to have a place of my own, so…”

Maybe the reds on your cheeks are obvious to Jungkook now, because he quickly clears his throat and corrects himself, “I mean, you know, so I don’t have to drive after, but well, that sounds a bit…” 

And the chuckles that left his lips, laced with timidness as if he doesn’t know what to say may be the most delectable sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he answers with an abashed smile.

“You’re cute when you talk like that.”

A few days have passed since Saturday and your last outing with Jungkook still plays in  loop inside your head. And while it kind of ended with a bit of an awkward situation, you can’t help but giggle whenever you remember his shy smile. You clearly miss this type of feeling. Even though you’re still unsure on how to navigate everything, honestly, you miss having this kind of excitement back in your life. And as your therapist always says, just take everything day by day. As long as you’re moving forward, it’s a win for you in battling the past.

It’s still quite early in the morning, 5.30 AM, but since it’s a workday, you might as well get up and pack some lunch with your little bit of spare time. You’ve been spending quite a lot nowadays taking lunch breaks outside with some colleagues, but come to think of it, since you don’t have anyone to rely on financially now, you should be wiser with your money. 

Just as you are going downstairs, the smell of ripe kimchi fills your nostrils. Looks like your mother is already busy in the kitchen.

“Eomma? What are you doing?”

Your mom looks up at you while she’s cutting some kimchi into small containers, “these are ready to eat, I’m going to give some to your brother and also Mrs Kim, she gave us radish kimchi last week, I’m going to return the favor.”

You take a small piece of kimchi left on the cutting board to taste and as expected, your mom’s definitely one of the best. You open the fridge to check whether there are still any Japchae left from last night for you to bring. Luckily there is, because your mom usually makes a big batch to have in store. 

Japchae and freshly ripe kimchi. You suddenly remember something. Wouldn’t it be nice for someone who lives alone to have a home cooked meal? 

“Eomma, can I take the box of Japchae and do you still have any of the kimchi left?”

“Yo, Jeon, you missed out on our soccer game last week!”

Jungkook slows down his steps as Kim Taehyung, the Public Relations lecturer from his department approaches him. Taehyung has been the first colleague/friend he’s quite close with when he started his tenure in Yonsei.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I already had another plan on Saturday. How about this week? Are we going back to regular Fridays?”

“I’m still waiting for confirmation from the Engineering guys. You should come though, these guys are machines, we need you to at least hold our pride,” Taehyung says as he firmly holds his junior’s shoulder.

Jungkook chuckles lightly, “yeah alright, if it’s Friday I can surely come.”

“What’s up with you and busy weekends now, you got yourself a girl?”

Maybe it’s the way Taehyung arches both of his eyebrows playfully while giving him a knowing smile that makes Jungkook stutter a bit.

“I-I just have some stuff.”

“Yeah, right, stuff,” Taehyung rolls his eyes, “anyway, where are you going for lunch? Let’s eat at that Kalguksu place–”

“Actually I’m meeting a friend.”

“Friend?”

“Yeah, friend. You don’t have one?” he teases, earning a playful shove from his senior colleague.

“If I said yes would you let me join you guys?”

Jungkook was just about to find an excuse, anything, but then he can see from his periphery as you stand from your seat on the campus bench and wave at him.

“Ah, I see,” Taehyung nods his head in acknowledgment, “sorry, Man, didn’t know you’re going on a lunch date with your girlfriend.”

Suddenly the word date and girlfriend startles Jungkook. Not that he wasn’t aware of the fact that you and him had been notably closer these past two months. He’s conscious about the thin line between friends and something more than that. And honestly it’s confusing for him too. Whether it’s because of the history between both of you, or whatever he’s feeling right now, but being with you gives him comfort more than anything. Coming back to Seoul after ten years or so is not easy. He doesn’t have many friends, because honestly as much as he tries to maintain communication and friendship, it’s difficult when you're thousands miles apart. His family resides in Busan, so he’s practically alone in Seoul, with no close friends–because many of his friends are busy with their own little family–trying to rebuild his life back. And honestly, talking to you, spending time with you has been a treat for the chaotic mess inside his head. Nevertheless, he’s still not entirely sure whether it’s just a friendly thing or…

Then suddenly it strikes him. If he’s unsure about what is happening between him and you, then probably you also feel the same. After listening to you, he just thought that you might be going through what he’s also struggling with. Because you did say, a few times, that you like the idea of being with someone again but still don’t know how to navigate the feelings and the trauma. And he gets it. He gets how confusing it is to want something and yet feel scared about it. What if it doesn’t work out again? Does he need to get through all the pain of a heartbreak again? 

“She’s just a friend,” maybe at that exact moment, all those thoughts and fear consume him so he quickly replies to Taehyung’s remarks, “we’re going to the kimbap place though, let’s ask her if she’s okay with you tagging along.”

As Jungkook had predicted, you didn’t mind. Originally he wanted to treat you to something better for lunch since you texted him this morning about giving him a homemade Japchae and Kimchi. But you’re the one who declines, saying he should not spoil you too much. Because every time you two go out to eat, he always is the one who takes care of the bill. He insisted though. He can’t imagine how tough it must be for you to take care of yourself along with your mother and daughter. So, treating you to food is the least he could do. 

Just for a second, he thinks about what other things he can do for you as he watches how you smile attentively while listening to Taehyung talking.

“So you’ve been working in that company for six years now? That’s quite a long time.” Taehyung says after you told him about your working experience.

“Yep, I don’t think I found something terrible in that place. I mean, they allowed me to have paid maternity leave, and have been very supportive to me as a working mother.”

Taehyung who’s chewing his kimbap eagerly visibly slows down, gulping it right away before replying, “oh I wouldn’t have guessed you’re a mother, no offense, but you look young and…” he looks tentatively towards Jungkook who squints his eyes slightly, “well, I mean you look great.”

You are about to reply with a thank you when suddenly Jungkook, who sits right in front of you, coughs. Seems like he’s choking on his tea or something.

“Hey, you okay?” you reach out to him with a tissue.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m good,” Jungkook takes the tissue from you before wiping his mouth.

You glance once again at Jungkook to make sure he’s okay, before continuing your conversation with Taehyung.

“Thanks by the way, I had my daughter pretty early.”

“That’s quite admirable, reminds me a lot of my sister, she also had my nephew pretty young, now she has three of them.”

“Oh, wow, your family house must be very lively.”

Taehyung chuckles before replying, “believe me, you don’t want to take your daughter around my parent’s house during christmas holiday.”

“Why? I bet she’s going to love it. Miyeon always loves playing with other kids whenever I take her to the park.”

“Three boys though, are you absolutely sure little Miyeon can keep up?”

Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s holding his chopsticks a little bit tighter when he hears you and Taehyung laughing in sync. All these talks about kids are really making him feel out of the loop. He knows Taehyung is close with his nephews, and you obviously have your own daughter. So it’s only natural that now the conversation flows into newly opened playparks and kid friendly cafes around Seoul. 

“Jungkook also has a niece, maybe one day we can all go on a playdate, I’m sure the kids will love it.”

Hearing his name mentioned by you takes Jungkook right back in the moment. He sees your concerned eyes trying to make sure he’s still listening. 

“Yeah, sure, maybe when my brother comes visiting Seoul one day. I can take Hari for a playdate,” he says, reassuring you with a soft smile that instantly lights your eyes back.

“You should ask your brother and sister-in-law to come, Man, they will appreciate the day off, having a couple’s time while you bond with your niece,” Taehyung adds while patting Jungkook’s shoulder. He then looks at you, “pretty sure every parent can relate to that, am I right? Because my sister always looks so appreciative whenever I’m offering to take my nephews out. She says she needs some alone time with her husband once in a while.”

You hesitate just a little bit before replying, “yea well, currently I don’t really relate to that,” giving him an awkward small laugh.

“Oh?”

“I think it’s time for us to get back, don’t you have a class at 1.30?” Jungkook decides to announce after checking his watch and then looks at Taehyung, “thanks Y/N for the food, I’m going to enjoy it.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem. I just thought of you when my mom prepared the kimchi this morning, and she made too much Japchae last night so…”

Your heart skips a beat when Jungkook gives you a warm smile, “thank you, I mean it.”

For a second you feel like the world narrows down to both of you, as your hand brushes with his when he takes the lunchbox bag from you. But it only lasted for a few seconds before he starts to move to the cashier, prompting you and Taehyung to follow.

“It’s nice to see you, Y/N, keep me posted on that playdate,” Taehyung says when the three of you are outside the restaurant, ready to part ways.

“Sure, and thanks for the playpark recs, I’m going to take my daughter for sure.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know if I found another kid friendly place.”

Jungkook clears his throat, “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, “enjoy the food, Kook, bye Taehyung,” you bow once again before turning around to walk towards the direction of your office building.

“Dude.”

Jungkook glances quickly at his friend as they make their way back.

“Dude, Y/N’s single?”

“Huh?”

“When she said that was not her situation anymore, does that mean she doesn’t have a partner right now?”

Realizing he’s been walking a tiny bit faster than usual when he sees Taehyung skipping his steps, Jungkook slows down his pace, “why do you care?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes again, “oh come on, you know I’ve been on three different dating apps and all of them sucks.”

Seeing Jungkook not answering directly, and an apparent frown making its way to his face, Taehyung becomes curious.

“You like her don’t you?”

“W-what?”

“You said she’s just a friend.”

Taehyung re-emphasizing the word friend somehow makes Jungkook turn into panic mode again.

“She is.”

“Then if you don’t like her like that, can I get her number please? She’s fun to talk to and pretty too. Let a man get his shot.”

“I’ll ask her first okay?”

“Okay.”

Luckily for Jungkook, they arrived at their building shortly after. 

“Don’t forget to ask her, Dude,” Taehyung half screams as he makes his way to his next class, “also soccer Friday!”

“Miyeon-a, it’s already late, you need to sleep.”

“Another story, eomma, please…”

It’s already 9PM and honestly you’re very tired, but you can never say no to your daughter’s sparkly eyes as she’s tucked in but still refuses to sleep.

“Okay, one story but you have to close your eyes while listening to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

You kiss her forehead and stroke her head gently while starting to tell the story of The Rabbit and The Tiger. Thankfully, you’re only halfway through when you hear soft snores coming from her. You kiss her cheek once again, before straightening up her blanket. 

You then take your phone from the night stand to check any messages. Well, particularly a message from a certain someone. You don’t really expect it, at least you learn not to expect anything, but after today’s lunch, you can’t help but wonder, because Jungkook looked and acted a little bit different than his usual self. You’re pretty sure you caught him spacing out a few times. Well, understandable because from your usual two way conversation, today’s turned slightly different with Taehyung added into the mix. You have to admit that Jungkook’s friend is a very good looking man. Very funny and friendly too. If you’re actively looking for someone, he’s probably going under your radar. But tonight, scrolling on your phone, you don’t even have the urge to open social media and put his name on a search box.

[Jungkook]: devoured it [Jungkook]: [pic]

The giggle that left your lips really does not represent a woman in their 30's. More like a school girl seeing his crush or a fangirl seeing her bias doing the most mundane thing. But maybe, in a way, this feels like it. Seeing a picture of the food containers you prepared this morning all empty and clean definitely makes your heart full.

[You]: makes the prep effort worth it. Was it good? [Jungkook]: your effort is greatly acknowledged and appreciated [Jungkook]: did you make it? It tasted like your mom’s though [You]: couldn’t fool you huh [Jungkook]: nah, i have a sensitive taste bud, better try your luck next time

You’re still thinking of your next reply, when his new message appears.

[Jungkook]: wanna try it at my place? Cook in and I’ll order that chicken and soju you’ve mentioned as a snack [Jungkook]: only if you’re comfortable though

You’re not uncomfortable with the idea. On the contrary, your heart beat escalates in excitement just thinking about spending time with Jungkook at his place, just the two of you. 

Now you’re sure something really is different with Jungkook today, because his name is suddenly glowing up your phone screen as it vibrates. You hurriedly get out of the bed and slip out of your bedroom.

“Hey,” you whisper while making your way downstairs. Upstairs are where all the rooms are, and your mother’s most likely already asleep too.

“H-hey, sorry, am I catching you at a bad time?” you can’t help but smile hearing his voice mimicking you in a whispering tone.

“No, it’s okay, Miyeon’s already asleep, I’m just going downstairs, you know, for a bit of privacy,” though he can’t see you, Jungkook can picture your sheepish smile.

“Okay. Sorry I called all of a sudden, it’s just… I just want to make sure that… yeah, the text, about coming over and all.”

“Kook, hey,” you try to calm him, “it’s okay, did you think I got mad?”

“Maybe not mad, more like… put off?” he answers tentatively.

Making yourself comfortable on the living room sofa, you hold your knees together while holding your phone close to your ear, “why do you think it’ll put me off?”

God, the sound of his deep laugh really goes right into the lower part of your stomach. 

“Maybe I’m insinuating something with my invite?”

“Are you?” you tease, silently hoping he’ll play along.

“Do you want me to?”

“Hey, I’m asking you first.”

He chuckles, “you’re really making it hard for me, feels like I don’t have a correct answer for that one.”

“Am I? I say nothing though.”

“So put me out of my misery by answering please.”

“Now I’m lost, which one do you want me to answer?” you joke again. You can feel your cheeks a little bit sore from smiling too wide. It feels as though you are transported back to younger days when you’re having a conversation with a crush.

“Y/N…” again, his voice goes even deeper, “you wanna come over or not?”

“Now?” you really are in a playful mood.

There’s a beat of silence before he answers, still in his low register, “that would not be the worst idea, but I was thinking this Saturday, just to make sure that little Miyeon’s time with her mom is not interrupted.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“Just trying to be.”

“What do you suggest I try to ruin your kitchen with then?”

“We, Y/N,” he corrects, “I’m good with anything, you know I’ll eat basically anything.”

“Yeah? Even burnt food?”

He chuckles again, lighter now, “we won’t burn the food, I won’t let you.”

“You’re gonna look after me?” Maybe it’s the sleepiness that is starting to take over, but there’s a sudden urge in you that wants to hear his validation. 

“Yeah,” you hate how his gravelly voice ignites something in places you’re too shy to mention, “of course I will.”

Maybe it’s not about cooking anymore, but none of you try to clarify, indulging in the way peaceful silence and contentment fill the air in between. 

“Kook…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sleepy? Do you have an early class tomorrow?”

“Not as early as your corporate hour, so you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Then can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

His voice sounds cozier now, like you can imagine him lying  comfortably on his bed, or maybe sofa like you right now.

“Did something happen… recently? I just noticed you looked… out of it today.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, he’s a bit surprised that you’re that observant.

“I’m good, Y/N. Nothing major happened recently as far as I’m concerned.”

“I see,” then maybe you’re just overthinking it, “glad to hear that.”

“I’d tell you,” he says, “if something happened.”

“You will?” you half care whether he can hear the hopefulness in your voice. And as much as you try to downplay whatever it is happening between you and Jungkook, you really think he won’t be entertaining you this far if he doesn’t care. 

“If you let me.”

“I will always do.”

Jungkook bites his lower lip, “and I’ll let you too.”

“Do what?”

“Tell me if something happened. If something is bothering you.”

Jungkook just realizes how he really enjoys hearing the sound of your laugh. That it gives him a peace of mind to know that you’re in a way better place than you’ve been before.

“I’m afraid I’ll be on your case A LOT.”

“It’s okay, I have plenty of time.”

“And patience? Because I think that would be the most important thing,” you add, trying to sound serious even though you yawn at the end and it makes Jungkook chuckle on the other side of the line.

“I might need more practice on that but, hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you let out another yawn, seems like your energy is at its limit.

“Go get some sleep now.”

“Okay… good night, Kook.”

“Good night, I’ll text you tomorrow okay?”

And even when both of you know there’s no real reason why he should text, you just agree.

“Okay.”

Later that night, when Jungkook turns off his bed-side lamp, he realizes that he didn’t mention Taehyung asking for your number. And to be honest, he already knew why he was hesitant in the first place. He just needed a reason not to explain himself to his friend.

Part 3 - coming soon

[almatiarau]

#9 months later and part 3 (ending) is finally coming #so sorry #the smut tho 😬

[bamboobibi]

Calvin Klein

[joonam]

studio 306 - chapter 11 | jjk

Pairing: Demon!Jungkook x Reader (f)

Genre: fantasy!au, demon!au, haunted apartment, horror (its not too bad bc im a coward guys), slow burn, forced proximity, supernatural romance, angst.

Summary: Jungkook is trapped in an attic, cursed to win affection from those who fear him most. Every tenant has fled until you move in. With your budget and patience on the line, you refuse to leave. Now you’re stuck sharing a space with a creature no priest, shaman, or exorcist can get rid of, and neither of you can escape.

Warnings: might be A BIT angsty, light horror, supernatural themes, slow burn, forced proximity, mild language.

Word count: 8165

a/n: hi guys! let me know what you think of this one, enjoy!!!

check out my: masterlist | banner creds to: vzzartt

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11

taglist: @jeonzll @misschelliejeon @mar-lo-pap @skylaarluu @onyxthornseer @jksusawife @yooforeaa @impossiblecopoaffire @valiantlyrunicmutant @bjoriis @ianeaniee @svnk1ssd @yama24 @j0cgr0c @rinkud @osakis-gf @starrlo0ver @ttipa @taehunnittttt @meisdream @teenagenerdrascalsports-blog @sc05 @riritvt @itzlav @justfaefaeee @chaosbunn1 @brerob31 @theonedayididnt @junkookloverinfinity

The first thing you noticed was the air.

It wasn't just cold or hot or humid, it was all three of those things happening simultaneously in a way that made no physical sense, like your body couldn't even agree on how to react so it just reacted to all of it at once. 

Your lungs drew in a breath and breathing felt harsh for you. It felt wrong. It was as if your lung was resisting the air you were breathing. 

The second thing you noticed was the sound you kept hearing and how ever since you got here, which has been around 7 minutes ago, the sound seems to be constantly there. There was never silence. 

All you could hear was distant screams of things.. you weren’t sure what they are or where the sounds originated from, all you knew is just they sounded like screams. It also felt like the earth, ground, or wherever you were, was vibrating.

The third thing you noticed was that you were on the ground.

Stone ground, rough, and uneven under the palms of your hands when you pressed them down to push yourself to sit upright.

The cave, because that’s where Seokjin has taken you, was enormous. The ceiling was so high and you couldn’t see clearly in the dim light that came from gemstones on the walls.

Your hands were shaking.

You didn’t know where you were, but you knew you were not supposed to be here.

But wherever this is, you knew your living human body was never designed to exist in this place. You could feel it. There is this constant pressure behind your eyes and a tightness in your chest that had nothing to do with fear. 

You pressed your palm flat against the stone ground and breathed through your nose, which was a mistake because it felt wrong to breathe that way. So you switched to breathing through your mouth, which somehow felt so much better.

Once you’ve finally gotten used to breathing through your mouth, you finally look up ahead of you.

Seokjin was standing a few feet away with his back to you, just staring at something. And he wasn't moving.

You observed the way he was standing, and how he looked. 

Seokjin’s horns swept back from his head differently to Jungkook's, where Jungkook's curved back from his temples in a shape that has somehow become familiar to you over months of ‘living together’, Seokjin's curved downward first then swept back and something about the angle of his horns made your chest tighten with fear.

And he was spreading his wings fully. It was enormous, and it made you wonder if Jungkook’s wings are the same size as Seokjin’s, or smaller, or bigger. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"Hello," you greeted Seokjin, you’ve decided that you need to talk to him. You need to ask him to let you go, because you never wanted to be in between him and Jungkook.

Your voice came out steadier than you expected, but Seokjin didn’t turn around or even acknowledged you. 

You pushed yourself up to stand on your feet, but your legs weren’t helping you. You felt heavier here, and standing up required more effort from your body to maintain.

"I'm going to need you to let me go," you said.

"I understand that you and Jungkook have," you paused searching for the word, "history… and that I am somehow tangled to that, because of the curse and the fact that I was living in the studio with Jungkook. But I'm a school teacher, I teach six year olds, and I have lesson plans due on Thursday and 22 children who are going to need someone to explain things to them this week and that someone is supposed to be me."

Seokjin said nothing.

"I'm not saying that to be funny," you continued, even though part of you was absolutely saying it to fill the silence because silence in this place felt like some creature could come out of inside of the deep cave and eat you, "I'm saying it because I genuinely have nothing to do with whatever is happening between you and Jungkook. I moved into that studio because the rent was affordable and the commute was short."

Still nothing.

The sound from the distance grew slightly louder or maybe you were just more aware of it. You turned your head instinctively towards the direction it was coming from and then immediately turned back because looking that way felt like inviting something you were not prepared to invite.

"Is this Kratos?" you asked him mostly to yourself, "or maybe the below?" you looked around the cave, "I know humans end up here.."

Seokjin still hadn't moved or said anything back.

"Am I going to end up here? Permanently?" you asked, "because I haven't done anything. I know technically I was living with a demon for several months and I'm aware that's not how most people spend their twenties, but I was paying rent and going to work and I'm fairly confident that doesn't qualify as a sin that would get me sent to wherever this place is."

You paused, you were ranting out of fear and you really did not like the silence here.

"I mean, I might have told a student she had a beautiful drawing when it was objectively not a beautiful drawing. But that was to protect her feelings and I think God or the Ancient Ones or whoever makes these calls would give me a pass on that one."

You felt a change in the air. 

It wasn't dramatic, Seokjin didn't turn around quickly or make a sudden movement, he just turned, slowly and deliberately.

You saw his face and your body reacted out of fear.

Your back hit the cave wall behind you and you pressed yourself against it as you breathed out in one sharp involuntary exhale.

You have seen Woojin. 

And you have seen Jungkook at his most visible, present, and raw form. You have looked directly into Jungkook’s eyes that were black with veins of dark red.

Seokjin looked at you and every single piece of that progress of not fearing the demons as much, disintegrated.

His face was handsome, and that was the first thing that came up in your mind and it was completely wrong. It was the first thing but it was unavoidable, the same way you thought of Jungkook the first time you saw him clearly and immediately felt horrified at yourself for it. 

Seokjin’s eyes were different from Jungkook's.

That was what made you pressed your back harder against the cave wall, what made the trembling in your hands go from manageable to visible, what made your breathing become something you had to consciously manage rather than something that involuntarily happen.

You couldn't explain it and you didn't have the vocabulary for it and later, if there was a later, you would struggle to describe it to anyone. You wondered if Seokjin is more demonic than Jungkook, because in his eyes you saw no civility.

Jungkook told you once, that the most powerful demons in Kratos were powerful because they felt everything and chose not to act on a whim. That mastery of the seven traits was not the absence of them but the ability to hold all seven and decide what to do next.

You understood it when he said it.

But standing three feet from Seokjin in a cave somewhere you don’t know, you understood that Jungkook definitely has mastered all seven.

Whatever Seokjin has, it wasn't all seven.

You could feel it. Seokjin was not in control the way Jungkook was in control and that was the most terrifying thing you have encountered since arriving in this place, because Jungkook would not harm you as harming you was not useful to him. The logic of it was cold and unflattering but it kept you safe.

It wasn’t this way at all with Seokjin.

He would 100% leave you out here to die alone.

The silence between you stretched long enough that the sound from God knows where seemed to grow louder, and you were now aware of your own heartbeat too.

"I haven't done anything," you finally said with your slightly cracked voice, which you hated, "I want you to know that, whatever this is, I haven't done anything wrong."

Seokjin tilted his head.

The way he moved was even slow and precise and reminded you, horribly, of the way Jungkook tilted his head when something caught his attention. Except Jungkook doing it had become familiar. Meanwhile, Seokjin doing it made the hair on your arms rise.

Seokjin looked at you for a few minutes, at the way you were breathing and the visible trembling you have given up trying to hide, and then he finally opened his mouth.

"How," Seokjin said, and his voice was different from Jungkook's, deeper in a way that didn't match his face, while Jungkook matched his, "how did you develop an affection for a demon you were supposed to be scared of?"

The question hung in the air between you, and you opened your mouth, trying to answer it. But you didn’t really know how to answer it, so you closed it again.

Seokjin's question wasn't at all weird, it was curiosity. It sounded genuinely like he wanted to know, like the answer was something he has been thinking about for however long it has been since he found out about the curse breaking.

"I don't know," you finally responded, which is the most honest answer you have, "it wasn't a decision."

"Everything is a decision," he replied almost immediately, like Seokjin wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

"Not always," you replied carefully, your voice trembling, "humans don't work that way. We don't choose what we feel, we just feel it, and then try to figure out what to do with it afterwards."

"That," Seokjin said slowly, "is exactly the problem with your species," he said it with so much disgust you almost felt sorry for yourself for being born a human.

He turned away from you then, and you released a breath you have been holding in your chest for what felt like several minutes. 

"You think," he said, with his back still to you, "it makes sense to just feel."

"Doesn't it?" you asked, confused on what exactly he is talking about.

"No," he replied.

There was a pressure behind your eyes that you’ve never experienced which has grown even more annoying since you arrived. You pressed two fingers to your temple to massage it a little and then immediately dropped your hand because showing Seokjin any physical weakness felt like the worst possible idea. 

“Can you just tell me where I am?” you asked almost helplessly.

“the below,” Seokjin replied.

Oh, fuck, you thought. 

He really did bring you to another fucking realm. 

You thought it was a possibility but you didn’t think it was real, you refused to believe it was real. But here you are, at the below, in hell.  

The below was doing something to your body that has nothing to do with fear, it was the environment itself, even breathing somehow feels like a task that wasn’t designed for your body.

You thought about Jungkook saying that humans wouldn't survive in Kratos long enough to matter. 

You wondered if that was the same case with the below, and you couldn’t help but wonder how long you would survive in the below. Is Seokjin really going to leave you to die here.. alone?

You shook your head, and decided not to think about that.

"Your brother," you continued, you felt like you needed to find out about as much information as you can, you wanted Seokjin to keep on talking to fill the silence too, "he told me about the seven traits, about mastering them."

"Did he," he said, and it wasn't so much a question, and more like a statement.

"He said the most powerful demons are the ones who can hold all seven and choose not to act on a whim," you continued while continuously watching him, looking out for any movement that suggested you were talking towards something you shouldn't, "he said that was what separated power from destruction."

"Of course he said that," Seokjin chuckled, "my brother has always believed that restraint is strength."

He turned around.

You pressed yourself back against the cave wall again, an automatic response that you couldn't prevent, because Seokjin's face when he turned around was different from Seokjin's face when you first saw him.

"He is wrong," Seokjin stated.

"Okay," you said, nodding at him.

"Restraint," Seokjin continued, "is not strength. It is a limitation dressed as discipline. And a Demon who has mastered the seven traits does not become more powerful. They just become smaller."

"Isn't it," you replied slowly, "a practice though? Mastering the traits? Hasn't it been that way for however long demons have existed?"

Seokjin stopped moving before he turned to look at you fully, and answered, "And they're all dead, aren't they? Except for grandfather, he is the odd one out.”

You blinked at him, not really sure of what to say after that.

"Every Demon who spent centuries disciplining himself into composure," Seokjin continued, "every Demon who built walls around what he was and called it mastery. Every one of them who sat in the highest towers of their citadels and congratulated themselves on their control," he tilted his head slightly, “they are dead by something that didn't bother with the same restraint."

"That's…." you couldn’t finish your sentence, in a way, he made sense.

"The founding demons of all four citadels, all the demons who came after them and mastered the seven, do you know what they had in common?"

You said nothing.

"They spent so long controlling what they were," Seokjin said, "that when something came for them that didn't control itself at all, they died, and that is what restraint cost them. The half second of consideration before you act, the pause between the impulse and the decision, that is when demons die."

You opened your mouth and closed it again.

The terrible thing is that you could almost follow it.

You didn't agree with it, some part of your brain was already building the argument, already lining up the evidence that restraint was what kept Jungkook alive across centuries, you were already preparing to point out that Seokjin's entire philosophy seemed to involve a selective reading of demon history that conveniently supported the conclusion he has already reached.

But you could follow the logic of it, you could see the foundation he stood on. 

He made sense in a very dangerous and very wrong way.

"That's why you sent Jungkook to earth," you said quietly, "not just because he was your competition for the throne, but because you think the curse proved your point. That even with all his control and discipline, he still didn't see you coming."

Seokjin looked at you for what felt like ten freaking minutes.

"My brother," he said, and his voice changed slightly when he said it, "has always been like this from the beginning. Even before he had enough strength to be called strong by any Demon’s standard, he was already trying to control what he was. Already deciding that being a demon was something to be managed rather than something to be. He is always weak and he always will be, because he decided that what he is needs to be corrected, that being a Demon is a condition to be treated rather than a nature."

"That's not a weakness," you said.

Seokjin looked at you.

You held the look for approximately two seconds before your eyes dropped to the ground of the cave.

"I will take the North Citadel," Seokjin continued with his back to you.

"Okay," you said.

"Okay," you said again, and something desperate and exhausted in you decided that if you couldn't get out of this cave through cleverness then maybe you could bore your way out, "go ahead, take the North Citadel. Do whatever you need to do with Kratos. I genuinely don't care, just please send me back. I'll go home, I'll pretend none of this happened, I'll tell my friends who saw Jungkook that they had a very vivid stress dream, and I will never mention your name to anyone for the rest of my life. Just send me back."

"No," he said.

You stared at him, "Why not? If you're taking North Kratos and Jungkook is stuck on earth anyway, what do you need me for? I'm useless to you down here. I'm a human and I’m just a teacher. I cannot help you with anything political or strategic."

"You misunderstand what you are useful for," Seokjin stated.

"Then explain it to me," you slowly replied.

"Because," Seokjin said, "Jungkook will know you are here."

You waited.

"And I want to know," he continued, with a calm that made your skin crawl, "how far Jungkook will go for his toy"

The word toy pissed you off immediately. 

"I'm not his toy," you stated.

Your voice came out steadier and louder than you intended it to be, and the moment the words were out in the air, you felt your brain register what your mouth just did. You knew it could become a predecessor to a very serious mistake.

Seokjin went completely still, and before you knew it, the air around him moved and you could feel your back hitting the cave wall, and Seokjin was in front of you with his hand around your throat.

Not tight enough to suffocate you, but he was really close to doing it.

He then lifted you off the ground with his hand still around your neck.

The movement was effortless on his part, a single fluid motion that lifted you off the cave floor like you weighed nothing, which to him you almost certainly did.

All the air you managed to breathe in the past hour tried to leave your body at once.

You gripped his wrist, "Sorry," you breathed out, you didn’t know why you decided to raise your voice at a demon prince in the below, "I'm sorry, I didn't.."

"Let me remind you," Seokjin cuts you off.

His voice was almost a whisper, which sent shivers all over your body, and hearing Seokjin's voice while his hand was around your throat and not to mention, your feet were not on the ground, was a very different kind of terror.

"You," he said, with his eyes fixed on yours "are a fucking human."

"And I," Seokjin continued, "am a fucking Demon prince, which means I," he said, "will always be above you."

Your hands were still on his wrist, struggling to move his hands off your neck. You were still breathing, barely, and the pressure behind your eyes has reached a point where the edges of your vision have gone even more blurry.

You didn't say anything back to him, or more like you couldn’t.

Seokjin held you up for a few minutes longer, watching you struggling to breathe, and you realised you can’t push him the way you did Jungkook.

Then he set you down by removing his grip around your neck, he didn’t do it gently, so you had to catch yourself with both hands against the cave wall. Your throat was aching from his grip.

He could have done worse, like kill you. 

But he hasn’t, at least, not yet. 

"You are not his toy," Seokjin continued, "you are correct."

You stared at him, still feeling his grip around your neck, even though he was far enough from you.

"You are something considerably more inconvenient than that," he added, "which is why you will stay here even if you die because the below doesn’t accept your weak human body. I couldn’t care less what the fuck happens to you."

You pressed your back against the cave wall, this was it. This is how you die.

You thought you’d die the most boring way like in your sleep or after choking from something. This was way cooler than all of those scenarios, but the saddest part is your family and friends won’t even realize you’ve died.

No, no. You shouldn’t be thinking about dying, because Seokjin was right about one thing. Jungkook would know you were here, and he at least owes you this. You broke his curse and the least he could do is bring you back to where you belong.

But there was just one thing on your mind. 

Jungkook is now free, and the curse is broken, but Jungkook has no way across the boundary between realms.

Which means you have no way out of this cave.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Seokjin left you alone in the cave without saying anything. You thought he would have at least told you not to leave or something, since he did kidnap you. But he did not say a word.

He simply walked away, deeper into the cave, and then you were alone.

For a long time, you didn’t count how long, you just stood there with your back against the stone wall and your hands pressed flat against it, your throat was still aching from his grip, and you thought to yourself: do not panic. 

You lived with a demon for months, you even had sex with a fucking demon.

You are not going to fall apart now. Especially not now.

You pushed yourself off the wall, stood up straight, and sighed as you looked around you.

You were still wearing Jungkook's shirt, the one you grabbed off the floor without thinking when you heard Taehyung scream. And the thought of Taehyung made you want to cry, but now is definitely not the time to cry.

You are fine.

You are absolutely fine.

You crossed to the other side of the cave, just to walk around, just to do something with your legs that wasn't standing against a wall waiting to see what will happen next. 

The sound from deeper in the cave was louder now, and you stopped walking. Seokjin is gone now, but the sound from God knows where never stopped.

You stood in the middle of the cave and listened, against every instinct you have, because you need to understand exactly what the sounds are. 

Then it got quiet for one second, and you could hear one voice. It sounded like the person, or creature, was giving orders with a loud voice. You couldn’t make out what it was saying that it made you wonder if it was even a human language. 

You took a step back in shock. 

Breathe.

Okay.

Okay, you thought.

the below is where humans end up and humans are down here somewhere and that is probably the sound of them and you are not going to think about it any further than that right now.

You walked back towards the wall you have been standing against when Seokjin was here, and you sat down slowly with your back against the stone and your knees pulled up to your chest.

The pressure behind your eyes was getting even more annoying. There is now just nothing but aching all over your body.

Your best guess was this is your body reacting to being in the below. Your body is not built for this place and is not interested in adapting to the below.

You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth and breathed through your nose and told yourself it was just your body being dramatic about the new environment.

Your vision was even more blurry now, it was like wearing someone’s glasses, but now it's just your eyes. 

You blinked hard, hoping the blurriness would go away soon, as you dug your fingernails into your palm.

The sharp small pain brought your eyes back into focus and you held onto that, pressing harder than was comfortable, and counted your breaths the way the school psychologist taught you. 

Breathe. In, out. In, out.

Your body is working twice as hard just to keep you here.

You understood it now. Seokjin didn't need to do anything to you.

the below alone will ruin you. 

Seokjin didn't need a plan or a tool to hurt you. He just simply had to put you in the below and walk away, and the below was doing what the below did to living things, which your guess was: to make them not living things.

You pressed your fingernails harder into your palm.

Breathe, 1. 2. 3. In and out. 

The voices from somewhere in the below have grown louder again while you were paying attention to your vision and your breathing.

You ignored it, you did not want to listen, you did not want to acknowledge it.

You focused on the wall in front of you and the coldness of the stone at your back and the small sharp pain in your palm. 

You counted your breaths and stopped thinking about how much longer you can maintain this, or what Seokjin intends to do with you, or whether Jungkook will even come to help you.

In, out.

In.

Out.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"That's not going to work much longer,” said a voice coming from the entrance of the cave and it was definitely not Seokjin's voice.

Your head turned so fast, the pressure in your eyes hit you harder. 

The figure has broad shoulders and a posture you recognized. It has a tail that moves slowly behind it, like it’s thinking its own separate thoughts.

It was Woojin.

Woojin looked at you from the cave entrance, it was not the same look he gave when he called you it, in your studio, finding your defiance amusing. Now, he was watching you like he pitied you.

"You look terrible," Woojin said.

"Thank you," you said, and your voice came out hoarser and quieter than you intended, "how did you get here?"

"I followed him," Woojin said, stepping further into the cave, his eyes moving quickly across the space, checking the corners and the direction Seokjin walked to when he left, "I've been following him for longer than he knows."

You stared at him.

"You followed Seokjin?" you wondered.

"Yes." "Why? Aren’t you scared he’ll catch you?"

Woojin studied your face for a second, and there was something that flickered across his own face that was difficult to understand.  

"It doesn’t matter, because," he continued, "my master is going to want to know where you are."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Woojin crossed the cave towards you and stopped a few feet away, which to you meant he was more concerned about something else other than you.

"Can you stand?" Woojin asked.

"I'm sitting by choice," you said. You didn’t know why you lied, but you also didn’t know who to trust yet. His master might be Jungkook, but Jungkook is nowhere near the below. 

Woojin raised his eyebrow, "Are you?"

"Yes," you said, and then your vision started to blur again and you pressed your fingernails into your palm to bring your focus back, and Woojin watched you with amusement.

"Do you know how long you have been here?" he asked, Woojin wanted to know if you were already out of it or if you still maintained your sanity.

"I don't know," you admitted, "time feels strange in this place."

"It is strange," Woojin nodded, agreeing with you, "the below and Kratos do not measure time the way earth does. It doesn't measure it at all, really, it just continues." 

He crouched down to your level, which was a strange thing to see something his size do, and studied your face for a few seconds before saying, "Your eyes are doing something they shouldn't be doing."

"I know," you said.

"How long has that been happening?"

"A while," you said.

Woojin's jaw tightened, just slightly, "It might get worse from here."

To which you just sighed. 

Woojin stood back up and looked around the cave again.

"We need to get word to Jophiel," you said, "that's what we need to do. If Jophiel knows where I am he might help Jungkook cross to this realm, and then Jungkook can save me.”

Woojin looked at you before answering, "Jophiel is away," he said.

You stared at him in confusion, "What?"

"He's away," Woojin repeated, you could hear a little annoyance in the way he said it, "you think I haven't tried? The moment I understood what Seokjin was planning I reached for every channel I know of that connects to Jophiel and got nothing. He is not available."

You opened your mouth and closed it again.

"What do you mean he's away," you asked, "away where? Away how? He's an angel, where does an angel go?"

"angels have places to be," Woojin said, with a tone that suggested this was some common knowledge.

"I don’t know that," you continued, "I didn't know that, this is all new to me, I have been aware that angels exist for approximately four months and the only angel I have any frame of reference for is Jophiel and I didn't even meet him, Father Gabriel did, so I didn't know angels could just be unavailable, I assumed they were sort of omnipresent or at least reachable."

Woojin considered you for a moment, "No," he said, "that is a human misunderstanding of what angels are."

"Then what are they?"

"Beings with responsibilities," Woojin said, "across multiple realms and multiple concerns. Jophiel specifically moves between places that have no names in any language you speak. He has obligations that exist outside the scope of what happens between Kratos and earth and the below. Sometimes those obligations take him somewhere that the channels between realms cannot reach."

You pressed the back of your head against the cave wall, looked at the ceiling, and thought about the described situation Woojin just explained and how it applied to your current circumstances.

"So he's just gone," you said.

"For now," Woojin said. "How long is for now?"

Woojin's silence was answer enough.

"You don't know," you said.

"No."

"Okay," you said, "okay, fine. Can you reach another angel? There must be more than one, Jophiel isn't the only one, there's a whole heaven full of them, I’m assuming."

Woojin looked at you with amusement in his eyes, "No," he said.

"Why not?" you asked, "If it's just a matter of reaching someone who can cross between realms and communicate with Jungkook, why does it have to be Jophiel specifically? Surely any angel could do it?"

"Because," Woojin said, "the channels between Kratos and heaven are not open lines. They are not something any Demon can access at any time with any angel. Communication between our realms requires specific conditions and specific relationships."

"What does that mean?" you groaned, annoyed at how complicated all of these heaven and hell structures are.

Woojin crouched back down, bringing himself to your level again, and rested his forearms on his knees in a way that made him look like a person having a normal conversation in a normal place rather than a demon in the below explaining the communication rules between Hell and Heaven to a school teacher, you, who was slowly being destroyed by the environment in the below.

"Jophiel and my master have a history," Woojin said, "it is long and complicated and not entirely something I am entitled to tell the details to you of, but what it means is that Jophiel is the one angel who will take a call and do a favor from a Demon of the Jeon citadel, while the rest won’t do it because of protocol."

"What protocol?” you asked.

“Other angels won't involve themselves in something that originates from Kratos. It's not their territory and not their problem. Getting involved means taking ownership of the outcome, and no angel wants to be accountable for whatever happens.”

"So only Jophiel would help because he has some history with Jungkook," you repeated.

"Correct," Woojin replied.

"Right," you said, deciding that this was not a conversation you need to be having right now, "so Jophiel is the only option and Jophiel is unavailable and we don't know when he'll be back."

"Correct again," Woojin said, looking like he was proud of you for catching up so quickly.

"That's a problem." "Yes." "A significant problem." "Also yes," he nodded

You looked at Woojin and the tail moving slowly behind him, and his eyes that were entirely black. 

"Why are you here?" you asked, "you didn't have to follow him. You could have gone back to the border, waited for Jophiel, done literally anything else. Why are you in this cave?"

Woojin regarded you steadily, "Because someone needs to be."

You exhaled slowly before conveying what you felt, "Woojin, I don’t know what to do. I feel as if I’m slowly being destroyed by this environment. My vision keeps going blurry, the pressure in my chest is getting worse, and the voices from whatever is in here are getting louder and I am spending an increasing amount of mental energy not listening to them which is energy I don’t have to spare. I need you to tell me something to distract me."

Woojin looked at you, didn’t quite know what to say. 

"How bad is the vision?" he asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Bad enough that…" you said, trying to find the words to describe exactly what you are feeling, "bad enough that I've been trying to somehow fix it manually for a while now."

You held up your hand as you showed him the small marks your nails have left in your palm.

Woojin looked at your palm, then at your face, then looked around the cave again, "The below affects living humans differently than it affects the dead," he said, "the dead belong here, they have already completed the transition that this place requires. A living human is not supposed to be here because a living human is still alive, and the below does not know like it."

"I assumed that was the case. It rejects me," you stated.

"It doesn't reject you," Woojin said, "it tries to change you, the below will try to complete the process that it thinks should already be complete, the below reads you as something unfinished."

You gasped hearing his explanation, you already assumed this was what was happening. But assumptions are not factual, but now that it’s coming from the demon himself, it made it real for you.

"So it's trying to finish me," you said.

"It's trying to make sense of you," Woojin replied, "the longer you are here the more it will change your body. Your vision is just the beginning, after that it will be other things."

"What other things?"

"Your sense of where you are," Woojin said, "your ability to track time, and your memory, eventually, although that takes longer. And the voices will get harder to ignore."

You looked towards the direction the sound was coming from and then immediately looked back at Woojin.

"Don't look that way," he said.

"I know," you said, "I haven't been." "Good," he said, "keep doing that."

"What happens if I do?" you asked.

Woojin said nothing and just looked away.

"What happens? Woojin," you insisted.

"The dead in the below are not at rest," he said carefully, "they are in a process that involves losing what made them human. They are not suffering in the way you would understand suffering, but they are also not what or who they were."

You didn’t understand what any of that meant, but you kept your eyes on Woojin's face.

"If you listen long enough," he continued, "you begin to hear things in it that sound familiar, things that sound like they might be meant for you specifically. But keep reminding yourself that they are not. the below does that to a living mind, so," He paused, "Do not listen."

"I'm not going to listen," you said.

"You will want to," Woojin said simply, "it is just how it works."

"Okay," you said, "so Jophiel is away, you can't contact any other angel, the below is trying to kill me, and Seokjin could come back at any point," you looked up at Woojin, "what can you actually do right now, in this cave… can you please help me?"

"I can slow down the effect of the below on you. I cannot stop or reverse it, but I can create a barrier between you and the environment that will buy you time."

"How?"

"That’s just how the Demon energy works. It’s like a buffer," Woojin replied.

You stared at him, "So you staying here helps." "Yes."

"Why didn't you lead with that?" "You asked me questions," Woojin smirked.

"Okay," you said, "okay, yes, then stay. Please stay," the please sounded desperate and you are desperate, and luckily Woojin did not comment on it.

“I’m curious though.. then why didn’t the pain stop when Seokjin was around me?” you asked

He moved and sat against the cave wall beside you.

"Thank you," you said.

"Don't thank me," Woojin said, "I am doing this for my master, not for you."

"I know," you replied, "thank you anyway."

Woojin said nothing to that but his tail, which has been moving slowly behind him since he arrived, briefly stopped moving, which you were choosing to interpret as the demonic equivalent of you're welcome.

“I’m curious though.. then why didn’t the pain stop when Seokjin was around me?” you asked.

“Because he is controlling his energy,” Woojin replied.

“Ah..” was the only response you could think of.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"Woojin," you said after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes," he answered.

"Is Jungkook going to be able to find a way here?"

Woojin was quiet for long enough that you turned to look at him. He looked as if he was deciding which version of the answer he should be giving to you. 

"My master," Woojin finally spoke up, "has never in his existence encountered a problem he could not find a solution to eventually."

“Eventually is a terrible word to use right now,” you sighed.

Woojin’s mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smile, but then his expression changed and his tail stopped moving.

His eyes shifted towards the mouth of the cave, and every trace of amusement disappeared from his face.

“What?” you asked, worried.

Woojin didn’t answer immediately, but he stood up slowly, and his shoulders went tense in a way that made your stomach drop.

“What is it?” you asked again, insisting him to tell you.

“He’s coming,” Woojin replied, again he seemed to pity you.

Your throat went dry, “Seokjin is on his way?”

Woojin looked down at you, and the answer was already in his face.

“No,” you said quickly, pushing yourself up with one hand against the stone wall, “no, no, no. You said staying here helps, and it’s been slowing down.. The pain has been slowing down. Please don’t leave me Woojin..just stay.”

“I can’t,” Woojin muttered.

You grabbed his wrist before you could even think. His skin was warmer than you expected, you thought he’d be as cold as Jungkook but he wasn’t. 

Woojin looked at your hand on his wrist.

And you let go immediately, “Sorry,” you said, “I just… please. If you leave… what if it gets worse?”

“I know, and it will.”

“Then why are you leaving?” you said almost in tears.

“Because if Seokjin finds me here, he will kill the two of us,” Woojin said.

You looked towards the cave where you last saw Seokjin, then back at Woojin, “How long will I last?”

Woojin didn’t answer.

You let out a small laugh, even though you were terrified, “I really hate when demons do that.”

Woojin looked at you one last time, before he left, “Seokjin will try to make you afraid of what Jungkook is,” he said, “do not let him.”

Then he was gone.

One second he was standing in front of you, and the next the cave swallowed him whole, like he has never been there at all.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Your chest tightened so hard you bent forward, both hands gripping your knees.

“Okay,” you whispered, “Okay. Okay.”

But it was not okay.

Your vision blurred worse than before. 

You couldn’t see clearly anymore that you thought the stones in front of you split into two, then three, then snapped back together. You could hear the distant screams from God knows where, and for one terrible second, you thought you heard your own name inside them, like someone there knows you.

You pressed both your palms over your ears.

“I’m not listening,” you said out loud, “I’m not listening. I’m not listening.”

Your body felt too heavy and too thin at the same time. Your hands were shaking so badly you could barely keep them against your ears.

You were sure now, you are going to die here.

Your body was simply going to give up because you are somewhere your body was never meant to survive in.

You thought of your classroom.

The little tubs of crayons sorted by color because your students argued if they weren’t, the reading corner you spent your own money decorating, the worksheets you still haven’t printed. Hoseok’s loud laugh in the teachers’ lounge, and Namjoon’s crush on you that you haven’t turned down yet.

Then Jungkook.

And his stupid face came to mind.

“You owe me,” you whispered, your voice breaking, “you really fucking owe me, Jungkook.”

You could hear slow claps echoing through the cave.

Your whole body went still and you lifted your head to see who was clapping in the cave.

Seokjin stood near a few metres away from you, “You are still alive,” he said.

You pressed your back against the wall, “Is that disappointing?” you asked.

Seokjin smiled, “No, just interesting is all,” he said before crouching in front of you.

You hated that. You hated demons crouching to your level as if it made the situation less terrifying. It didn’t, it only made their faces closer.

“You look worse,” he observed.

“I feel worse.”

“The below is efficient.” “That’s one word for it,” you snickered.

“It is trying to correct you,” Seokjin said, “a living human does not belong here”

You swallowed, “Then send me back.” “No.”

“Then what do you want?” you sighed.

Seokjin looked at you for a few good seconds before responding, “I wanted to see what would happen.”

“To me?” “To him.”

You stared at him in confusion, which made Seokjin leaned closer, resting one arm over his knee like this was just a normal conversation.

Seokjin reached out and touched your chin, tilting your face up with two of his fingers. His touch was not painful, but your body reacted like it remembered his hand around your throat.

“You are very afraid,” he said. “Yes,” you whispered.

“But not only of me,” Seokjin continued. His eyes searched your face, and you had this horrible feeling that he could see more than your expression.

“You are afraid he will not come,” Seokjin said. Your chest suddenly hurts after hearing it.

“You are afraid he will come too late.”

You looked away, and Seokjin’s fingers tightened slightly under your chin, forcing your gaze back to him.

You breathed out shakily, “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you repeated, “I’m afraid of dying, that’s very different.”

Seokjin smiled again, “Well, just so you remember. Your affection will not make him less of a demon.”

Seokjin was right, you thought to yourself. Jungkook was still Jungkook. Jungkook is still a demon.

Seokjin then let go of your chin, “Do you know what will happen if Jungkook reaches the below?”

You stayed quiet, didn’t exactly know what to say back to him.

“He will not ask for you, he wouldn't care what happens to you. You’re just his pet,” Seokjin laughed before continuing, “but he will tear through whatever stands between him and this cave, me, my soldiers, laws, you. It will not matter. He is just seeking revenge.”

Your stomach twisted, “You don’t know that.”

“I know my brother.”

“No,” you said, surprising yourself, “you know what he is capable of, but that’s not the same thing.”

For the first time, Seokjin’s expression shifted, and his eyes sharpened.

You should have stopped, but fuck it, you thought. You’re about to die anyway, so you didn’t hold back.

“You think restraint makes him weak because you only understand power when it destroys something,” you said, your voice shaking so badly you almost couldn’t get the words out, “but Jungkook could have hurt me a hundred times. He didn’t, not because he couldn’t, but because he chose not to and that makes him a way stronger demon than you.”

Then Seokjin laughed, “I want you to understand something.”

“My brother’s restraint is not mercy. He is just stuck in a prison and prisons,” Seokjin said, “break.”

The voices from deeper in the cave are getting louder and louder now. You pressed your hands against your ears again, but Seokjin caught your wrists and pulled them down.

“Don’t,” you gasped.

“Listen,” he ordered. “No,” you refused.

“Listen!” he shouted at you. 

The voices sounded like children crying, then like your mother calling your name from another room, then like Hoseok and Namjoon bickering. And then like Jungkook saying your name.

You started to sob before you could stop it.

Seokjin watched with fascination, “There it is,” he murmured, “you fragile little thing. Human bodies break first, but human minds are so much more entertaining.”

“Stop,” you whispered.

Seokjin released your wrists, and you immediately reacted by covering your ears again, bending forward.

“I want to go home,” you said, and you hated how small you sounded, “please. I just want to go home.”

For a moment, Seokjin said nothing, then he crouched again, closer to you than before, “What if you did not have to die?”

You blinked through the blurry sight of your vision, “What?”

“What if we could make the below stop trying to kill you?” he asked, “what if your body stopped rejecting this realm?”

You stared at him, filled with confusion, “I don’t understand.”

“No,” Seokjin said softly, “you don’t.”

His gaze moved all over your face, to your shaking hands, and he also noticed your shallow breathing, and the way your body was fighting and losing to the below.

Then Seokin smiled, before asking,  “How would you like me to turn you into a demon?”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You were taken aback by his question. and never in a million years would you want to become a demon.

“No, please,” you begged.

Seokjin smirked at you, he definitely was enjoying this, "You don't have a say in this."

"Please…" you cried out.

"I can," he said, crouching down to your level again, "and I will, because a dead human pet is a temporary inconvenience to my brother. But you," he studied your face, "his own pet, hating him, for eternity? That is something else entirely."

You pressed yourself back against the cave wall, "I won't hate him."

"You will," Seokjin calmly said, "because once you understand what was done to you, you won't be able to feel anything else."

"What was done to me," you repeated, "you're the one who brought me here.."

"Listen carefully," he said, "you are not becoming this because of me."

You shook your head, "No."

"You are becoming a demon," Seokjin said, "because of Jungkook."

"That's not what is happening."

"You see, he needed your affection," Seokjin continued, straightening back up, looking down at you now, "so he came up with a version of himself that never existed. He was such a good actor! He was patient with you even when you came up with dumb conversation and the dumb questions you asked him.”

Seokjin smirked, "He used you the way a Demon uses anything, efficiently, without guilt. because that is what we are."

"You're lying," you said, but your voice cracked on the last word and you hated it. 

He crouched one final time, bringing his face to be on level with yours, close enough that you could see the exact shape of his horns curving downwards then sweeping back.

"So remember this moment," he said quietly, "remember exactly where you are, how you got here, and who put you here. It was not me, Jungkook did this. His curse, his failure of having his human pet caught in the middle of something that was never yours to be caught in."

You were shaking, your hands, your jaw, all of it, and you couldn't tell anymore how much of it was the below and how much was just your fear.

Seokjin stood up, and looked down at you one last time.

"When it's done," he said, "you'll thank me."

[almatiarau]

People need to read this istg you are brilliant 🔥

[jung-koook]

so fineeeeee

[almatiarau]

Sexiest man alive

[kurapikaenia]

Hate sex is still sex. — part 5 | ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ

You just got dumped. The one behind it? your boyfriend’s best friend Jungkook who’s hated you from day one. You hate him. He hates you. One thing’s for sure: when hate turns into desire, it gets messy, it gets reckless… and yes, hate sex is still sex.

5’— Who knew recklessness and one drink too many is all it takes for the stubborn, mean version of you, to slip into something soft, vulnerable… almost cute, at least according to the infuriatingly smug man himself.

🧷Pairing: Jungkook x Brat!reader

🧷Genre: enemies with benefits

🧷Warnings: 18+ content, explicit, thigh riding, angst, commitment issues!reader, spoiled rich reader, sorority president reader, pussydrunk!jk, dom!jk x sub!y/n (mdni)!!

🧷wc: 13k<

🧷previous part >< series m.list

5’—

Your heels clicked sharply as you stepped into the bus.

It had been nearly impossible to wake up the morning of the event. Your body ached in ways that were both irritating and embarrassingly obvious, every movement reminding you of the ridiculously mind blowing sex you had last night, which, in hindsight, had been an incredibly stupid and reckless decision to make.

Lina had never returned to the room after you fell asleep, something you were quietly thankful for as you didn’t feel like explaining why the room smelled like sex the moment she walked back in either.

You moved further down the aisle, steady despite the dull ache in your limbs. However, it takes you less than a minute to notice something’s… off.

You pause in the aisle, eyes narrowing slightly as you take in the scene infront of you.

Half the frat looks like they’ve been hit by a truck.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as your gaze swept over them again, something beginning to click into place. There was a subtle tension clinging to the air like they were waiting for something to explode.

Then your eyes drifted, and landed on Jungkook, who looked… completely fine. There was nothing that matched the uneasy stiffness and the suspicious smell radiating from the rest of them.

He was leaned back in his seat like he had actually slept. Like he hadn’t spent the night doing anything worth losing sleep over.

Except... he did. With you.

For a brief second, your mind betrayed you, filling in the obvious. Heat threatened to creep up your neck before you could stop it, and you looked away just as quickly, forcing your attention elsewhere. You made a conscious effort not to look at him again and not to let your gaze linger even for a second too long.

You straightened slightly, grounding yourself. That was when you noticed it. The smell hit you faintly at first... then stronger.

Alcohol.

It clung to the air around the frat boys, lingering around them like a confession no one had bothered to hide. Your expression hardened instantly as your eyes flick from one to another, suspicion building fast.

“…What,” you say slowly, voice sharp enough to cut through the low murmurs, “is wrong with all of you?”

A few of them avoid your gaze whilst one of them winces like your voice physically hurt him.

That’s all the confirmation you need, before your expression hardens.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

No one answers immediately, which only makes it worse. You cross your arms, foot tapping impatiently. “We have a campaign event in less than an hour, and you all look like you’re about to pass out.”

A quiet snort comes from somewhere near the back. You whip your head in that direction. “Does someone want to explain?”

There’s a pause. Then someone mutters, a little too casually, “We just… hung out for a bit.”

Your eyes narrow further. “Hung out.”

“Yeah,” another voice chimes in, clearly regretting it immediately. “Minho’s room. Just... y’know. Drinks. Nothing crazy.”

You stare at them. Someone muttered a quiet “shit” under their breath, thinking you wouldn’t catch it, but you did.

Irritation snaps into something sharper and more controlled.

“You’re hungover.”

A few of them visibly flinch. Someone groans from the back as another sinks lower into his seat like that might make him invisible.

Your grip tightens around your bag. “We have a campaign event in less than an hour,” you continue, voice tight, “and you all thought it was a good idea to get drunk last night?”

“y/n—” Lina starts from somewhere to your left, shifting closer.

You turn to her immediately. “No. Don’t.” you stop her.

She raises her hands slightly, like she’s approaching something volatile. “It wasn’t supposed to get that bad, they just,”

“They just what?” you cut in sharply. “Accidentally drank themselves into oblivion?”

A few of the guys wince. Lina exhales, clearly trying to keep her own patience in check. “They were stressed, okay? Minho’s presentation wasn’t done, everyone was freaking out, and it just… turned into something else.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. I can see that.” Your eyes sweep over the bus again, at the half dead expressions and absolutely no shame they seem to carry.

Unbelievable.

Then something clicks. Minho’s room.

Your brows pull together slightly, your irritation faltering for just a second as your mind rewinds. Last night had been… quiet. While you had jungkook in your room, there was no noise in the hallways. No interruptions at all.

At the time, you hadn’t questioned it. Now, you didn’t have to. Everyone except you and Jungkook had all been somewhere else, drinking and being completely irresponsible.

That’s why no one heard anything... why Lina never came back.

Lina is still talking, trying to smooth things over. “We’ll manage, okay? It’s just one event–”

“Manage?” you repeat, your voice going flat again as the frustration snaps back into place, stronger this time. “You call this manageable?”

You gesture vaguely at the team, still slumped and useless.

“I have a speech to give,” you continue, sharper now. “There are donors there. Important ones. Do you know what happens if we mess this up?”

You shake your head, turning away from them before your temper gets worse, your chest rising and falling a little too fast.

“This is a nightmare,” you mutter under your breath.

Lina doesn’t push it after that. You can feel her hovering for a second, like she’s debating whether to say something else, before she gives up and leans back into her seat. Smart choice. There’s nothing she could say right now that wouldn’t irritate you more.

You sit there in silence, forcing yourself to settle as getting mad certainly won’t fix anything. Losing control definitely won’t.

You straighten slightly, smoothing your expression back into something neutral, even if the frustration is still sitting right under the surface. If they can’t get their act together, you’ll just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to screw anything up in the first place.

The bus ride is quiet after that. No one really talks. A few of them attempt to look less like they’re about to pass out. Someone runs a hand through his hair like that’ll undo the fact that he reeks of alcohol. It’s almost funny how quickly they fall in line when they realize you’re actually serious

By the time the bus pulls up, you’re already up on your feet.

“Fix yourselves before you get off,” you say, not even raising your voice, “I don’t want anyone looking like they just crawled out of a bar.”

That gets them moving fast.

You step off first.

The venue is already busy with staff moving around and setting things up. People are checking lists at the entrance. It’s not chaotic, but it’s not relaxed either. Everything’s running on a schedule, and you can feel it immediately.

This isn’t something you can afford to mess up. The space itself makes that clear enough. Everything about it screams expensive without needing to say it out loud. It’s the kind of place that expects a certain kind of crowd.

And judging by the people already filtering in, it’s getting exactly that.

There are familiar faces here. Not friends– never that, but people you’ve grown up seeing around. Business partners, donors, the kind of people who’ve sat across from your father at dinners while you were expected to smile and not interrupt.

Some of them notice you and give you a small nod, a brief look of recognition.

You barely spare the place more than a glance before turning back to the team. “We don’t have a lot of time,” you say, already walking. “So if you’re going to be useless, at least stay out of the way.”

That seems to do the trick. For now, at least, they listen.

You step toward the backstage area, glancing at the time on your phone.

Your teammates scramble to fix things, actually doing what they’re supposed to for once. Movements are quicker now, like they’ve finally understood that you’re not in the mood to repeat yourself.

Lina stays close, stepping in where she can and quietly redirecting people while adjusting things before they turn into problems simultaneously. She’s noticeably less talkative than usual, but right now, that works in your favor.

You don’t dwell on it, as there’s too much to do.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jungkook off to the side, talking to one of the venue coordinators. He’s leaning slightly toward them, asking something; probably about setup or timing.

Minho’s nearby, crouched in front of the equipment, trying to get the presentation slides up and running. His fingers move across the laptop, pausing occasionally like he’s trying to remember what he was doing before continuing again.

You don’t comment on it. Instead, you turn back to the real problem.

The worst of them.

A couple of the guys still look like they’re seconds away from collapsing, barely able to keep themselves upright, and there’s no way you’re letting them wander around like that in front of actual guests.

You glance at Lina. “Backstage,” you say quietly, nodding toward them.

She nods once. Between the two of you, you guide them off to the side. It should’ve been simple, but they make it difficult by stumbling over their own feet, laughing like there’s something hilarious about the situation when there isn’t.

It’s irritating. More than that, it’s embarrassing.

“Can you at least pretend to act like professionals?” you mutter under your breath, not really expecting an answer.

One tipsy frat guy straightens slightly, but there’s still that careless tilt to his expression. “Relax,” he mutters. “We’ve got time.”

Something about that tone, the dismissal and ignorance hits you wrong. You take a step forward. “No, you relax,” you shoot back, voice tightening. “Because clearly this doesn’t matter to you, but it does to me, so maybe try doing the bare minimum–”

“Why are you always so–” he starts, irritation creeping into his tone.

Another one snorts from the side. “God, she’s acting like she owns the place.”

“And doesn’t she?” someone else adds, loud enough for a few to laugh. “Daddy probably funded half of this anyway.”

The laughter dies down as the words land exactly where they shouldn’t. You whip your head toward him with sharp eyes. “Funny,” you snap, voice cutting. “Because the only thing funded by my dad that I care about is making sure you don’t embarrass yourself in front of real people. Try to keep up, or don’t show up at all.”

For a second, the room freezes. Then one of them, the one who’s always been quietly passive aggressive scoffs, a smirk playing on his lips as he tries to walk past you, purposely bumping into your shoulder hard enough to throw you slightly off balance.

You stumble a fraction from the sudden contact catching you off guard. But before you can fully trip, the guy is yanked backward by a pair of strong hands gripping the back of his shirt. The motion is so sudden it makes a few heads snap in your direction.

Jungkook stands behind the guy now, fingers still fisted in his collar, pulling him back just enough to stop him from moving any further. The shift in atmosphere is instant, as the careless noise backstage dies down into a tense silence.

Jungkook releases the collar only to step forward, placing himself squarely between you and the guy, standing tall enough to completely block your view of him for a second.

“What’s going on here?” he asks, voice controlled in a way that somehow feels more threatening than yelling.

The guy scoffs, though the edge in his expression falters slightly. “Nothing,” he mutters. “She’s just–”

Jungkook’s hand shoots out again, this time catching the guy’s wrist before he can move past him. His grip is firm, holding him in place like it’s nothing.

“Is this how you treat your president?” Jungkook says, tilting his head slightly, with a sharp and unimpressed gaze. There’s no humor in his tone.

The word ’president’ hangs heavy in the air. You feel the way the room shifts and the way the others straighten slightly like they’ve just remembered exactly who you are here.

The guy tries to tug his wrist back, but Jungkook doesn’t let go.

“Apologize to her,” Jungkook says, voice flat in a way it isn’t a suggestion.

The guy hesitates, jaw tightening, clearly debating whether to push back. Jungkook clicks his tongue once before stepping closer until he’s looming directly over him. The height difference alone is enough to make the moment feel suffocating.

“I said,” he repeats, voice dropping lower, “apologize.”

A beat of silence follows. Finally, the guy exhales sharply through his nose, shoulders stiffening.

“…Sorry,” he mutters.

Jungkook doesn’t move, doesn’t release him yet.

“Look at her,” he adds quietly. The guy glances at you then, expression tight, clearly hating every second of this.

“…Sorry,” he repeats, louder this time.

Only then does Jungkook let go. The guy immediately steps back, rubbing his wrist, pride bruised and expression sour, but he doesn’t say another word.

No one does. The rest of them suddenly look very busy fixing things, adjusting banners, grabbing equipment– anything to avoid being next.

You stand there for a second longer, and when your gaze shifts back to Jungkook, he’s already looking at you.

Your chest tightens slightly, but you shut it down immediately. “I didn’t need your help,” you say, voice clipped, even if it comes out a little less sharp than you intended.

Jungkook huffs a quiet breath, something almost like a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he says. “Looked like it.”

Your eyes narrow. And just like that, the tension is back as though it had never left in the first place.

His eyes drift past you toward the rest of the group– who noticeably, are suddenly very focused on their work; exactly how they should’ve been acting from the start.

You hate that it took him stepping in for them to finally take you seriously. Hate even more that it worked.

Lina leans in slightly beside you, lowering her voice. “You’ve got twenty five minutes,” she reminds you gently.

Your stomach tightens immediately. Right, the speech.

You straighten, lifting your chin slightly as you glance back toward the stage area. “Everyone,” you call out sharply. “Final checks. Nobody leaves backstage unless I say so.”

You smooth your hands down the front of your blazer, as you force yourself to breathe evenly. The color was painfully dull, but hey, nothing says ’responsible adult’ like looking mildly depressed in beige. You adjust the cuffs once more out of habit than necessity, before shifting your attention forward.

You move toward the narrow passage separating the stage from backstage– the exact spot you’re supposed to wait when they announce your name. It’s darker here, tucked between heavy curtains and equipment stands, the space stands barely wide enough for more than one person at a time.

The lighting from the stage spills in faintly, casting long shadows along the floor. It smells faintly of dust, and the sharp heat from the stage lights overhead.

Footsteps sound softly behind you. Before you can turn fully, Jungkook steps into the narrow passage, his presence filling the space. He stops opposite you, close enough that the small gap between the curtains feels suddenly smaller.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you, eyes scanning from the way your shoulders are set to the tight grip around your clipboard. You feel his gaze linger on your hands, then slowly shift upward, as if he’s noticing even the smallest details you thought went unseen.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves or speaks. You’ve honestly gotten used to having him around you at this point. The muffled sound of voices from the stage drifts into the space, a stark contrast to the charged quiet between you.

Then, almost unconsciously, your eyes catch the slight wrinkle at the collar of his shirt. Without thinking, your hand lifts, brushing along the fabric to smooth it down.

Jungkook doesn’t move. His eyes drop slowly, following the movement of your hand before lifting back up to your face. And then his gaze dips lower, to your lips.

Your breath catches as you pull your hand back like you’ve just touched something that burned you.

What the hell are you doing?

Your face warms slightly. Without thinking, you knock your knuckles lightly against his head. “Your shirt was wrinkled,” you mutter defensively, like that explains everything. “You looked sloppy.”

You step back immediately after, putting distance between you like it’ll erase what just happened.

Finally, his eyes shift toward the stage, then back at you. “You’ll do fine,” he says softly.

You press your lips together, jaw tightening, because the simplicity of it makes your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

Then he steps back slightly, nods toward the stage, and adds, quieter this time, “Good luck.”

The rest of the event moves quickly after that.

You barely have time to catch your breath before you’re being pulled into conversation after conversation, offering polite smiles, listening carefully while keeping your posture straight and composed each time.

One of your father’s colleagues spots you first, his face lighting up immediately. “There she is,” he says warmly, extending his hand. “That was an excellent speech. So confident and clear, just like your father.”

You smile politely, returning the handshake with a polite smile. “Thank you, sir.”

Another joins in, laughing lightly. “You know, your father hasn’t stopped bragging about you. Says you’re the sharpest student he’s seen come out of the university in years.”

You offer a modest nod, keeping your tone measured. “He exaggerates.”

They chuckle at that, clearly pleased. “No, no,” one of them insists. “We’ve been hearing about your work with the campaign team. Impressive leadership at your age.”

Before you can respond, a pair of elegant, poised women step closer, the kind who always smell faintly of expensive perfume and carry that quiet confidence with them. “Well,” one of them says with a warm smile, eyes scanning your outfit approvingly, “look at you.”

You straighten slightly without thinking. “You look absolutely stunning,” the other adds, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. “That blazer fits you perfectly. Very polished.”

You let out a small laugh. “Thank you.”

“And your hair,” the first woman continues, tilting her head slightly as she studies you. “Always so neat. I told your father the last time I saw him, you carry yourself beautifully. Just like your mother used to.”

The comment makes something flicker briefly in your chest, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you smile again in the very graceful and composed manner you’ve been wearing like armor all day. “You’re too kind,” you reply smoothly.

One of the men nearby chuckles. “Brains and beauty. Your father must be sleeping peacefully at night knowing he raised you right.”

You dip your head slightly at that, the perfect picture of modesty even as the praise stacks higher. Standing among polished professionals, exchanging pleasantries and receiving approval feels like stepping into a role you’ve rehearsed your entire life.

Across the hall, Jungkook stands off to the side near one of the volunteer stations, watching quietly as you move from group to group with ease. The difference in you is impossible to ignore. Here, you’re not sharp tongued or defensive like usual. You’re poised.

He watches the way the older men listen when you speak, nodding thoughtfully, the way the women smile warmly at you like you belong among them. The way your name carries weight even in casual introductions.

“Her father must be proud,” one of them says, clapping you lightly on the shoulder. “You’ve got his head for business, that’s for sure.”

You offer a polite smile at that, adjusting the cuff of your blazer again. “I try.”

Across the room, just past the cluster of guests surrounding you, a familiar figure enters your line of sight. At first, it’s just movement in your peripheral vision, a mere silhouette. Then recognition hits all at once, causing your smile to falter mid conversation.

Your hand freezes where it rests lightly against the edge of your clipboard.

You see her.

Your mother.

Standing near one of the sponsor tables, dressed elegantly, laughing softly like she belongs here just as much as anyone else. She hasn’t noticed you yet. She’s too busy speaking to the man beside her.

Your pulse stutters, then spikes hard enough to make your vision blur for half a second. You politely excuse yourself, forcing a tight smile as you murmur something about checking on your team, already stepping away before anyone can stop you. Your heels click against the polished floor as you move toward the volunteer area, careful not to let anyone see the sudden crack in your composure.

From the corner of your eye, you glance back again. Your mother stands near one of the sponsor tables. And beside her stands the tall, dressed in a sharply tailored charcoal suit man from before. His hair is streaked slightly with grey at the temples. One hand rests casually at your mother’s lower back as he leans down to murmur something into her ear.

Your jaw tightens as something bitter rises in your throat. You force yourself to look away before the anger shows too clearly on your face.

By the time you reach the volunteer station, the noise of your teammates bleeds back into focus. You position yourself near the edge of the table, pretending to check the list in front of you, but really just using the angle to steal another glance across the room.

Jungkook stands nearby. He’s the only one actually paying attention to what’s going on, scanning the room with quiet focus while the rest of the guys talk amongst themselves. His posture is alert, arms loosely folded and his gaze remains sharp.

His brows pull together slightly as he studies your face. He notices the way your gaze keeps drifting past him toward the far side of the hall, and the way the way your expression looks… unsettled.

Before Jungkook can comment anything, a voice cuts through the space.

“Wow.”

You stiffen instantly as a girl steps into view, stopping just in front of you.

She’s slightly taller than you, dressed in a sleek ivory blouse tucked into a high waisted black skirt that hugs her figure perfectly. A thin gold chain rests against her collarbone, catching the light every time she moves. Her hair falls in smooth waves over her shoulders, styled just enough to look intentional without seeming forced.

Your heart drops straight into your stomach at the recognition. Your face hardens immediately, lips pressing into a sharp frown as heat rises beneath your skin.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice low but edged with unmistakable anger.

Yoona tilts her head slightly, studying you like she’s taking inventory of every detail; your blazer, your posture, the way your shoulders have gone stiff.

“How are you, y/n?” she asks instead, voice smoot with a faint, sly smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she looks you up and down like she’s amused.

Her gaze lingers, clearly assessing you, before drifting past your shoulder, toward Jungkook.

You notice the subtle change in her gaze immediately once her expression changes, eyes sharpening with quiet interest as she takes him in shamelessly.

“I'm here with, you know… my mother,” she adds casually, voice dipped in something intentionally provocative. The words hit harder than they should.

’My’ mother.

Not our mother.

Your jaw tightens as your fingers curl slightly against your side. You refuse to look in the direction of the sponsor tables again, even though you can still feel the weight of that image burned into your mind.

Yoona shifts her weight slightly, her attention still lingering on Jungkook. “And you?” she asks lightly, eyes flicking back to you, though the curiosity in them feels anything but innocent. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Then without hesitation, her eyes return to Jungkook. This time, she doesn’t even try to hide her curiosity. “Who’s this?” she asks, voice smooth.

Something sharp and ugly twists in your chest when you observe the look on her face. You’ve seen it before, that same quiet fascination and interest with which she used to look at things that belonged to you.

Beside you, Jungkook hasn’t said a word yet, but you can feel his attention shift and his gaze moving between the two of you, picking up on the tension crackling in the air. Before he can introduce himself, the words slip out of your mouth faster than you can think.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you say sharply, possessive in a way that surprises even you.

The silence that follows after is heavy. The second the words leave your lips, you realize exactly what you just did.

Yoona’s brows lift slightly, her gaze snapping back to you. Surprise flickers there, but only briefly.

Then that smile returns. “Oh?” she hums softly. Her eyes flick between you and Jungkook, clearly measuring the space between you, the way you’ve unconsciously closed the distance.

“That’s new,” she adds, though the curiosity in her eyes sharpens into something more calculating. Your pulse pounds harder in your ears.

Yoona tilts her head slightly, her gaze lingering on Jungkook again “Well,” she says finally, voice light but edged, “you always did have interesting taste.” The comment lands like a challenge.

Then, unexpectedly, her expression softens just slightly though the shift feels rehearsed rather than genuine. “You know…” she continues, voice almost thoughtful. “I missed you. It’s been a while.”

You clench your fist at that. Yeah, you think bitterly. And whose fault is that? But none of that reaches your face. Instead, your lips curve into a polite smile, just sharp enough around the edges to be fake. “That’s sweet,” you reply, voice suddenly lighter and polished. “I’ve been… busy.” passive aggressive sweetness coats every word.

Yoona’s smile flickers slightly, as her gaze shifts again, this time settling more openly on Jungkook.

“I know who Jungkook is, by the way,” she says casually, like she’s dropping an afterthought into conversation.

You don’t look at him yet, “Do you?” you reply coolly. Yoona nods, her lips curving faintly. “We went to the same high school.”

Your eyes flick briefly toward Jungkook who hasn’t spoken once during this entire exchange. He just stands there beside you, posture relaxed yet watchful, taking everything in without interfering which somehow makes his presence feel heavier.

“Cool,” you say simply, tone clipped but neutral. Yoona hums softly, clearly amused by how controlled you’re trying to stay. Then, movement approaches from behind her.

You notice a familiar silhoutte first in your peripheral vision, stomach dropping before your mind even catches up.

Yoona turns slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Yoona,” a familiar voice calls warmly. Your mother steps into view beside her, elegant as ever, expression bright with polite social warmth. She’s mid sentence when her gaze finally lifts and lands on you.

You notice the way she freezes just slightly as her expression shifts from casual composure to stunned stillness in the span of a single heartbeat.

“Y/n,” she says carefully, like testing how your name sounds after so long. Your lips press into a thin line. You don’t call her mom, not even out of habit. Her gaze lingers on you, scanning the sharpness of your face and the sharp lines of your blazer.

“I heard your speech,” she says after a moment, voice gentler now. “You did very well. It was… impressive.” The words hang there as a compliment. You nod once, “Thank you,” you reply with not a hint of warmth in your tone.

The brightness in her eyes dulls slightly, the warmth faltering for half a second from the stoic expression you give her. But just as quickly, she smooths it over, expression slipping back into its practiced composure. Before anything else can be said, Yoona steps closer to her side again.

And then, the man from earlier; her husband appears beside your mother. He steps beside them like this is the most natural arrangement in the world, hand resting lightly at your mother’s back. He doesn’t look at you, not even by accident, as though you were never part of the picture to begin with. “Come on,” he murmurs to them both.

Yoona glances at you one last time, that faint knowing look still lingering in her eyes. Then they turn, walking away as a family.

You don’t realize how hard you’re clenching your fists until your nails bite into your palms. Across from you, Jungkook notices the way your face flushes red. He watches them walk away, then looks back at you.

Without thinking, you grab his wrist. “Come,” you snap under your breath. Without waiting for an answer, you drag him away from the volunteer stand, ignoring the confused looks from your teammates as you pull him deeper into the backstage area, until you reach a narrow service corridor tucked behind the main stage.

It’s quieter here, lined with stacked equipment cases and unused props. You push open the nearest door without checking the label; an empty storage room filled with folded chairs and spare banners, and pull him inside with you. The door shuts behind you with a dull click.

Silence falls instantly once you let go of his wrist. Your chest rises and falls fast, pulse still pounding violently in your ears.

“…You okay?” he asks quietly. You let out a sharp breath instead of answering, pacing once across the cramped storage room, heels clicking against the floor. You hate that he saw that...that he saw you like that.

Behind you, Jungkook just watches, leaning back slightly against the closed door like he’s giving you space, but not leaving.

A few seconds pass before he finally speaks again. “So…” he says slowly. You stiffen at the tone, that faint edge of amusement creeping into his voice. Your eyes snap toward him. He tilts his head slightly, studying you with that same sharp, unreadable look.

“I’m your boyfriend now?” he asks casually. The words land heavy in the quiet room. Your jaw tightens instantly. “Shut up,” you snap, turning away from him again, arms folding tightly across your chest. But he doesn’t drop it.

“You said it pretty confidently back there,” he continues, unmistakably teasing. “Didn’t even hesitate.”

You glare at him over your shoulder. “I had to.”

“Oh?” His brow lifts slightly. “Had to?” You let out an irritated scoff, pacing once more, the anger inside you still simmering from what just happened outside.

“She was staring at you,” you mutter, the words coming out before you can stop them. Jungkook’s expression shifts slightly at that, something flickering briefly across his face. “And?” he asks.

You hesitate just for a second, as now that you’ve said it out loud, it sounds stupid. Petty and possessive even.

“She…” You exhale sharply through your nose, frustration bubbling over again. “She always takes things that are mine.”

The room goes quiet again after that. Jungkook straightens slightly from the door, the teasing edge fading just a fraction.

“…That why you dragged me in here?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you turn away, pressing your palm briefly against your forehead in an attempt to steady yourself.

“Don’t get used to it,” you mutter finally. “You’re obviously, not actually my boyfriend.” You roll your eyes, but your gaze lingers on him longer than intended once you notice how close he’s standing.

Your chest tightens slightly. Not from anger this time, but something sharper, “How do you and Yoona know each other?” you ask, your tone sharpening as you glare up at him.

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes hold yours for a second, studying you carefully, like he’s weighing down how much to say. “High school,” he replies finally.

Your eyes narrow slightly from irritation. “That’s it?”

He shrugs lightly, pushing himself off the door behind him. “We went to the same school.”

You scoff under your breath, folding your arms tighter across your chest. “You didn’t seem surprised to see her.” His gaze flickers briefly, something unreadable passing through his expression for a second before it settles again.

“I wasn’t,” he says evenly.

That answer does nothing to calm the knot forming in your stomach. Instead, it tightens. “And she seemed very comfortable recognizing you,” you add, voice quieter now but edged with irritation. “Almost like you two were… familiar.”

Jungkook exhales slowly through his nose, gaze drifting briefly toward the stacked chairs beside you before returning to your face. “We knew each other,” he says.

Past tense. You catch the careful wording he uses immediately.

Your jaw tightens again. “knew,” you repeat slowly.

He nods once.“Yeah.”

Silence stretches between you again. You hate how vague he’s being. Hate even more that it bothers you this much.

Your fingers tap once against your arm, restless. “Were you friends?” you press.

This time, Jungkook hesitates, just for half a second, but you see it. That tiny pause hits harder than any answer could. “…Not really,” he says.

Your eyes narrow once again, irritation rising fast to cover the uncomfortable heat building in your chest. “Great,” you mutter dryly. “That’s reassuring.”

Jungkook watches you carefully now, his gaze sharper than before. “You jealous?” he asks suddenly.

The question hits like a spark to gasoline. You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Of her?”

You step closer without realizing it, glaring up at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But the way your voice tightens and the way your shoulders stiffen, says otherwise. Jungkook just watches you carefully, completely unfazed by the attitude. “Didn’t say you were,” he replies calmly. “Just asked.”

You scoff, folding your arms tighter across your chest, forcing your expression into something unimpressed even though your pulse has started climbing again. “Why would I be jealous?” you shoot back, your tone defensive. “It’s not like I like you or anything. We only sleep together.”

The words leave your mouth carelessly, and the second they hang in the air, you regret letting them out.

Jungkook stills. For a split second, he just watches you, dark eyes fixated on your face like he’s weighing something. Then he exhales softly through his nose, like he’s holding back a reaction.

“Yeah,” he says finally, voice low. “Exactly.”

He takes one step forward. You don’t move.

“We only sleep together,” he repeats, quieter now, but there’s something different in his tone this time.

Another step.

Your back meets the wall before you even realize you’ve retreated. He stops just inches away, one hand braced beside your shoulder, blocking your escape without actually touching you. The space between you shrinks until the air feels heavy and hard to breathe through.

“So why,” he continues, tilting his head slightly, gaze dropping to your lips before dragging back up to your eyes, “did you feel the need to announce I’m your boyfriend back there?”

Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. You hate this. The way he’s standing over you, calm and unbothered, like he’s waiting for you to trip over your own words.

“I didn’t feel the need,” you snap, even though your voice comes out tighter than you want. “I just didn’t want her–” You stop yourself too late.

His eyes sharpen immediately. “Didn’t want her what?” he presses quietly.

You swallow. Your heart is beating so hard you can feel it in your throat now. “Nothing,” you mutter. “You’re reading too much into it.”

He clicks his tongue softly, leaning just a fraction closer. “Funny,” he murmurs. “Because you looked pretty jealous to me.”

Your head snaps up. “I was not jealous,” you fire back, voice rising despite yourself.

“You don’t like me,” he says slowly. “We only sleep together.” His voice drops lower with each word. “So why do you care?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. “I don’t,” you insist, but your voice betrays you as it comes out too defensive. He studies you for another second, gaze dragging across your face like he’s trying to peel you open layer by layer.

Before you can fire back another response, a sudden knock hits the door.

You both freeze. A voice follows almost immediately after. “y/n?” Lina’s voice filters through the door, slightly breathless. “They’re looking for you. The next segment is starting.”

Reality crashes back into place all at once. You jerk slightly, breath catching like you’ve just been pulled out of something dangerous.

Jungkook steps back immediately, his hand dropping from the wall, expression smoothing into something unreadable. You close your eyes for half a second, drawing in a slow breath, forcing the heat in your chest to settle.

“Coming,” you call back, your voice steady despite the chaos still buzzing under your skin.

When you open your eyes again, you intentionally avoid looking at Jungkook. Instead, you focus on smoothing down the front of your blazer, fingers brushing as if erasing every trace of this conversation.

You turn slightly, angling yourself toward the door, but pause just long enough to speak, voice low, meant only for him.

“Not a word about this,” you mutter, still refusing to look at him, because you have a feeling that if you do, you won’t look nearly as untouchable as you’re trying to be.

By the time the last announcements are made and the final applause fades, you realize that despite the chaos, the hungover frat boys, and the moments where you wanted to scream, the event turned out to be a success.

Most of the credit, of course, belongs to you. Your speech had gone off without a hitch, and surprisingly even the volunteers had done their part. Lina hovered nearby, quietly helping you wrap up, keeping the team organized, while Minho and Jungkook corralled the less competent guys.

By the time you actually needed them to act professional, they’d finally sobered up enough to follow orders.

You get a few pats on the shoulder, and a few compliments: some about your poise, some about your dedication to the youth development initiative, and occasional remarks. Your team starts gathering their things, buzzing about how “successful” the event was, when someone casually suggests celebrating.

The thought of letting loose after today; after the awkward confrontation with your mom, after seeing Yoona, after juggling the drunk chaos backstage, the tense near-argument with jungkook, suddenly feels almost necessary.

You want something strong, something to wash down the tension still stuck in your chest.

The club is loud, music already pounding through the speakers by the time you step inside. People are packed together on the dance floor while others crowd around the bar.

You didn’t come dressed like you were earlier. Sometime between leaving the venue and getting here, you changed into a dress instead, the fabric hugging you in all the right places, paired with heels that click sharply against the floor as you make your way further inside. Your hair is fixed, makeup flawless and not a single detail out of place.

Lina spots you first. “Finally,” she says, appearing beside you with a drink already in hand. “I thought you bailed on us.”

You exhale quietly, slipping onto the stool beside her at the bar. “Not yet,” you mutter.

The bartender walks over, and you don’t even need to think about it. “Two shots,” you say, glancing briefly at Lina. “Make it strong.”

Lina raises a brow but doesn’t argue. If anything, she looks like she expected that. “You okay?” she asks, quieter now.

You shrug, pretending to focus on the bar instead of the question. “I’m fine.”

You’re not. But you don’t feel like explaining that right now.

The shots arrive, and you pick one up immediately, barely hesitating before throwing it back. The burn hits your throat fast, sharp enough to distract you from everything else running through your head.

You reach for the second glass, and suddenly feel someone step into the space beside you. Your body tenses instantly, shoulders stiffening before you even turn your head.

You already know who it is. You glance sideways, Jungkook stands there, leaning casually against the bar. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. Like you’re just another person standing there.

You glare at him openly, heat rising in your chest at the sheer audacity of it. You’re just about to say something, when a loud burst of laughter cuts through the music again.

Your head turns toward the sound, and the moment your eyes land on her, your stomach drops.

Yoona stands near the center of the room, surrounded by people like she naturally drifted there without effort. Laughing easily, head tilted slightly as someone says something to her, her expression warm and inviting in that way that always made people gravitate toward her.

What the hell is she doing here?

Your gaze drags over her appearance before you can stop yourself. She looks polished in the same effortless way you do. Her dress is sleek and fitted, paired with heels that look just as costly as yours. Her jewellery is minimal but obviously high end, catching the club lights when she moves.

Your grip tightens around your drink as you watch her laugh again, greeting people like she knows half the room. Someone leans in to hug her. She smiles at all of them, slipping into conversations easily.

You swallow hard, forcing your expression to stay neutral even as irritation curls tighter inside you. The music pounds around you, but your focus stays locked on her, while Jungkook’s eyes quietly linger on you from the side.

Yoona’s gaze sweeps across the room casually at some point, drifting from face to face without much thought, until it stops, not on you, on Jungkook.

You see it happen in real time, the flicker of recognition settling across her face as her smile shifts into something sharper.

Your eyes slide sideways toward Jungkook automatically, only to find him still leaning against the bar like nothing in the world could possibly bother him. When you look back, yoona is already starting to walk toward you.

Your pulse picks up with every step she takes. You lift your glass again, taking another drink, barely tasting it as heat spreads through your chest.

From the other side, Lina leans closer to you, raising her voice slightly over the music. “Hey, y/n, you have a ride home, right?”

You glance at her, distracted. “Why?”

“I’m leaving early with Minho and a few others,” she says, brushing her hair back, looking mildly stressed. “It’s still a half hour drive back to the city, and if we don’t leave soon, we’re going to get stuck in insane traffic tomorrow morning.”

You hum faintly, only half listening as your eyes drift back toward Yoona again. “And we still have to drop off all our stuff once we get back,” Lina says. “I’m not waking up early to deal with that mess tomorrow.”

You nod faintly, still watching the shifting crowd, your fingers tightening slightly around your glass. “Okay,” you say, voice steady despite the dullness simmering in your chest. “Just text me when you get back.”

Lina nods once. “You too. Don’t stay too late.”

Before you can respond, Minho steps into view. He looks far more put together than he did that morning. His gaze moves between you and Lina first before shifting toward Jungkook.

“Hey,” Minho says, leaning slightly closer so he doesn’t have to shout over the music. “You heading out soon?”

Jungkook glances at him, calm as ever. “In a bit.” Minho nods once, then adds, “You have your car?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies easily. “I do. Got a few things to take care of before I leave.”

There’s a brief pause after that. Minho’s gaze flicks between you and Jungkook, like he’s noticing something he can’t quite place.

You force your expression into something neutral, like nothing about this moment feels strange. “Drive home safely,” you say, directing it mostly at Lina, though your gaze briefly flicks to Minho. “Text when you reach.”

Lina nods again. “We will.” Minho gives a short nod as well before stepping back, gesturing for Lina to follow him. Within seconds, they disappear into the shifting crowd.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at nothing in particular. By the time you clear your throat and shift your weight slightly, Yoona has already fallen into step in front of you, close enough that there’s no pretending this isn’t intentional.

Up close, she looks even more polished than before, like she stepped straight out of some luxury campaign.

Her gaze lands on you first. “Well,” she says, voice smooth despite the noise around you. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

Your lips press into a thin line. You don’t respond immediately. Her eyes move between you and Jungkook again, slower this time, like she’s studying a puzzle she just solved. “You know…” she says thoughtfully, tapping a finger lightly against her glass. “I didn’t really recognize him at first.”

Your shoulders stiffen slightly. “But now I do,” she continues, her lips curving faintly. “Jungkook and I used to be classmates.”

Your stomach tightens. “He was always quiet,” she adds casually, glancing at him again like she’s recalling old memories. “Top of the class, teachers loved him. Barely spoke to anyone though.”

You don’t miss the way she says it, like she knows a version of him you don’t. Then her gaze slides back to you.

“But you?” she continues, voice loaded underneath. “You dating someone like him is… unexpected.”

You force your lips into something polite. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

Yoona shrugs slightly, like she didn’t just light a match. “Nothing,” she says sweetly. “Just… I remember how you used to be.”

She tilts her head, studying your reaction carefully. “You were never the type to actually stick around,” she continues, her voice soft enough to sound harmless, but loud enough that Jungkook can hear every word. “You got bored easily, moved on fast.”

Your grip tightens around your glass. She’s doing it on purpose. “You didn’t really date,” she adds, lips curling faintly. “Not seriously, anyway.”

Heat rushes up your neck, but you force yourself to keep your expression steady. You refuse to let her see you crack, refuse to let Jungkook see you react.

Yoona only smiles faintly, clearly satisfied she hit something. “I just didn’t think you’d actually settle down with someone like him,” she adds, eyes flicking toward Jungkook again. “Someone… serious.”

Silence hangs heavy between the three of you. And just when the tension threatens to snap, you feel a hand settling against your lower back.

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected contact. You didn’t ask him to do that, didn’t even know if he would play along. Jungkook’s fingers rest against your waist, pulling you just slightly closer to his side, like this is something he does all the time.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is calm. “Is that a problem?” he asks.

And suddenly, you’re not the one being cornered anymore.

“Well… I hope not,” Yoona says, caught slightly off guard by his directness. She turns her attention back to you, sly smile. “I’m happy for you, y/n, really. You both look good together.”

She pauses for just a beat, eyes glinting with a touch of mischief. “You should introduce him to mom one day.”

The words hit like a splash of cold water as heat flares in your ears. You want to lash out, but the hand on your waist keeps you tethered, forcing the tiniest semblance of composure.

Yoona glances between the two of you once more, before she finally turns, drifting back into the crowd. You watch her go, fingers clenching around your glass until your knuckles ache.

The alcohol you’d taken earlier suddenly feels too little. Your body hums with frustration as you tip your glass back again, letting the burn spread through your chest, your mind locked on the tail of Yoona’s departing figure.

Across the room, Yoona is still watching, like she’s waiting for something. The anger, the possessiveness, the frustration, it all spikes through you at once.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, voice low, a growl hiding in the syllables. You tap him lightly on the chest, heat in your eyes. “Kiss me.”

He blinks, almost like he’s surprised by the command, eyes flicking to you, “Excuse me?” he murmurs, slow, “I said...kiss me,” you snap, stepping closer. Frustration coils tight in your chest, desperation lacing your movements. “Now.”

His eyes darken just enough to make your pulse spike. He doesn’t move fast enough for you. Fine. Then you do it. You reach up, grip his face with one hand, and pull him down. Your lips crash against his in a sharp, reckless claim.

The world around you dissolves. The bass of the music, the crowd, nothing matters. There’s only the heat and the bite of your own desire mixing with anger.

His hand moves eventually, landing on your waist, pressing you closer to him. He doesn’t resist you, and the way he holds you unflinching, makes the reckless pulse in your chest flare hotter.

No one notices. Everyone is lost in their own world of music and lights. When you finally break apart, chest heaving, he leans just close enough to murmur, “You know this is dangerous, right?”

“Mm,” you murmur, a low, defiant hum, swaying slightly from the alcohol and the tension, “I don’t care.”

And then your gaze snaps back toward Yoona, still lingering from across the room. Her eyes flick away immediately, and you feel a small, sharp thrill at the reaction.

The club spins slightly around you, neon lights slicing through the haze of music and alcohol. You feel the tipsiness creeping higher, legs wobbling just a little, and instinctively, your hand drifts to Jungkook’s shoulder, gripping it lightly as your eyes stay fixed on the floor.

He notices the slight sway in your stance and the flush in your cheeks. Without a word, he slides a steadying hand to your lower back, guiding you through the crowd with a careful firmness that leaves no room for argument.

You murmur something incoherent, perhaps a protest about still being able to walk on your own, but he doesn’t respond. His presence alone keeps you upright, and keeps anyone else from brushing too close.

“I can walk!” you snap, voice slurring slightly, heat creeping into your cheeks as your pulse spikes. “I’m fine, Jungkook, I don’t need–”

You nearly scream when he lets you go for a fraction of a second, and you stumble, catching yourself against a nearby railing. Reflexively, your hand shoots out for him again.

He clicks his tongue, and it pulls a small laugh out of him despite the situation.

Before you can topple completely, his arm snakes around your waist, steadying you with effortless strength. “Careful,” he mutters, guiding you toward the elevator. His touch is a quiet assertion of control that makes your pulse spike even more.

You glare up at him, frustration boiling in your chest. “I don’t need you holding me,” you snap, leaning slightly away even though your legs wobble.

He doesn’t budge, only tilts his head, eyes sharp. “Clearly you do,” he says, voice teasing but edged with authority. “So let’s get you somewhere safe before you fall flat on your face.”

You huff, trying to argue again, but the warmth of his hand on your back and the way he subtly guides you through the crowd, makes your words falter. You grit your teeth, annoyed at how easily he’s making you depend on him, even for something as simple as standing upright.

Jungkook guides you inside the elevator, his hand brushing lightly against your back, steadying you without a word. The doors slide shut behind you with a quiet thud, leaving the two of you in the confined space. You lean against the wall opposite him, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the heat prickling through your chest.

Your lips still tremble faintly from the kiss, and though every part of you aches to lean in again, you refuse to give in, forcing your gaze to stay lowered instead.

He stands across from you, one hand casually resting against the wall. It’s obvious to both of you what’s left unsaid, the tension buzzing in the air louder than any music outside.

You finally break the silence, voice low but edged with something you don’t quite want to admit. “So… was Yoona… your ex or something?” The words slip out before you can stop them, more curious than accusatory in its intent, though the tightness in your chest betrays a flicker of something else.

He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly, that smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Ex? No,” he says quietly, almost teasing. “We knew each other.”

Oh.

“Like… how we know each other?” The words slip out before you can stop them, casual on your tongue but heavier than you realize.

You’re not asking if he went to the same school or had a class with her. You’re asking if there was… something. Something you can’t even admit you crave and hate at the same time.

His gaze darkens instantly, and the air seems to thicken around you. He steps closer, closing the space between you in a way that leaves no room for escape. You shift slightly, backing against the wall, though the space is small and he’s already loomed over you.

“Mm,” he murmurs low, almost a hum, as if he can hear your thoughts. “You really don’t like that idea, do you?”

You really don’t. Not at all. Not even a little.

“Like… how we know each other?” he repeats, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he drags out the tension, forcing the words you’ve been tiptoeing around into the open.

One hand leans against the wall beside your shoulder, cornering you just enough that the space between you vanishes. You can feel the heat in his gaze, the unspoken question lingering in the curve of his lips: why does this bother you so much?

You could open your mouth to deny it; no feelings, just… whatever this means, but the words die in your throat. The truth hums beneath your ribcage, furious and undeniable.

“Answer me,” he murmurs low, standing closer now, his voice brushing against your ear. “Not about her. About this. About you and me. Why does it even bother you?”

You swallow, heat crawling up your neck, your hands clenching at your sides. “I…” you begin, voice sharp but trembling, “I don’t–”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupts, the smirk gone now and replaced by something more commanding, something suffocating in its intensity. He steps closer, chest nearly brushing yours, “You’re not good at hiding it. You never were.”

“You don’t like the thought of me with someone else,” he states, a quiet authority in every word that leaves no room for denial. His eyes don’t leave yours, and something in the way he tilts his head, almost daring you to explain yourself, makes your lips tremble.

“That’s not–” Your voice cracks on the lie before you can finish it. You swallow hard. “We’re not exclusive. We’re not anything. You can date whoever you want.”

He tilts his head, the smallest movement, but it feels like the whole elevator shifts with him. His gaze drops to your hands clenching at your sides, then back up. “Then why are your hands shaking right now?”

“They’re not.” They are.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

You don’t. His hand lifts slow enough that you could slap it away if you really wanted to, and two knuckles graze the underside of your jaw, tilting your face up.

“Tell me again,” he says, voice wrapped steel, “that you don’t care.”

Your lips part. No sound comes out. His thumb drags once, very lightly, along the edge of your bottom lip tauntingly. Your breath hitches so violently causing your chest to brush his.

“Shut up,” you breathe, but it sounds more like a plea. “No.” His nose nudges yours. “Admit it first.”

Your hands fist in his shirt, half to shove him away, half to drag him closer. You don’t even know anymore. “I dont...” you hiss, voice trembling. “She’s probably your ex anyway, right? Another one of your little–”

“Nothing happened with Yoona,” he rasps, forehead pressed to yours. “Never touched her. Never wanted to. She’s full of shit, and you know it.”

Relief crashes through you like cool water on fevered skin. Your shoulders drop as the knot in your chest unravels so fast it almost hurts.

You hadn’t realized how tightly you were holding onto that thought; how badly the idea of him with her had clawed under your skin until it felt unbearable.

Your fingers tighten slightly around his shirt, as your gaze flickers up to meet his. There’s still heat there. Still that infuriating calm in his eyes that makes your pulse spike all over again.

“Good,” you mutter after a beat, voice rougher than you intend. He tilts his head slightly, studying you, “Good?” he repeats quietly.

You swallow, jaw tightening, refusing to let him see how relieved you actually are. “Yeah,” you say, lifting your chin slightly despite the way your heart is hammering. “Because I don’t like sharing.”

The words slip out before you can think of any consequences. They hang between you, heavy and impossible to take back. Before he can say anything else and make you explain something you’re not ready to admit, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him down to you impulsively.

Driven by something hotter than anger and far more dangerous than jealousy, your lips crash into his before you can think twice.

The kiss is slow at first, lips sliding, tongues brushing just enough to tease. Then it snaps. He licks into your mouth deep and filthy, swallowing the moan you can’t hold back. His thigh wedges between yours, pressing up hard, and you grind down onto it without thinking, chasing the pressure against your swollen clit through too many layers of fabric.

He groans low into your kiss when you rock harder, the sound vibrating straight down your spine. One hand drops to your ass, fingers digging in to guide your hips in a slow, delicious rhythm, making you ride his thigh like you’re already fucking him. The silk of your dress catches just right with every roll, sending sparks behind your eyes.

And then, just as quickly as the moment flares, you hear the soft chime of the elevator doors sliding open.

Reality intrudes. Both of you step back instinctively, breaking the proximity. You straighten and smooth your dress, cheeks burning, while he simply leans against the wall again.

You walk out of the elevator with your heart still thumping in your chest, and other places you’d rather not acknowledge as he follows a step behind you.

You turn on your heel before he can respond, brushing past him and heading toward the parking area with quick, uneven tipsy steps, heels clicking against the concrete.

A quiet laugh slips from him at the sight of you; still bossy and commanding, even while swaying slightly with every step. This time, though, he finds it oddly cute, the way you’re trying so hard to stay in control even when you’re clearly tipsy. He follows without question, like he already knows exactly where this is going.

By the time you reached the lounge entrance, the alcohol settled heavier in your system with every step. The quiet of the compound felt strange after the noise of the club, and the polished floors inside the private lounge reflected the soft golden lights overhead as Jungkook guided you forward.

The ride itself had been quieter than usual. You’d stretched your legs across the dashboard like you always did, ignoring the look he kept sending your way, your heels tapping lightly against the glass as city lights blurred past. At some point, it had clicked in your head, that you’d forgotten your pills back at home. Not your regular ones, the emergency ones.

The realization had caused you to nearly almost throw up in his car as you rushed him to pull over at the nearest pharmacy. You’d run out and hadn’t packed any for the trip… which, considering last night, had been reckless even for you.

What made it worse was the pharmacist. Jungkook had gone in alone at first, thinking he could just buy them and leave. But of course, it hadn’t been that simple. The pharmacist had insisted on seeing his “girlfriend” before handing over the morning-after pills.

You’d been forced to stumble inside after him, dizzy and irritated, forcing yourself to stand straight beside him while answering questions like everything was perfectly normal, like you and Jungkook weren’t pretending to be something you definitely weren’t. You’d even looped your arm through his without thinking, leaning into him just enough to sell the act, cheeks warm for reasons that had nothing to do with alcohol.

By the time you left the pharmacy, pills in hand, you’d decided that you weren’t going home. The thought of facing your father in that tipsy, emotional state, still burning from everything that had happened all day had made your chest tighten. So you’d told Jungkook to drive to your private lounge instead.

Now, as you stepped further inside, the dizziness hit again sharper this time. Your heel slipped slightly against the polished floor, and your fingers tightened around Jungkook’s sleeve. He steadied you without hesitation, his grip firm against your arm as he guided you deeper into the quiet space.

You remembered vaguely the last time you and Jungkook had been here.

The memory surfaced uninvited when your gaze flicked toward the couch for half a second before you immediately looked away again. “Upstairs,” you muttered instead, voice slightly thick from alcohol. “Take me upstairs.”

You moved toward the staircase on your own at first, gripping the railing as you started climbing. Each step felt slightly uneven beneath your heels, the room tilting just enough to make your balance unreliable. Still, stubborn as ever, you waved him off the moment his hand hovered near your arm. “I can walk,” you snapped, lifting your chin like you weren’t swaying slightly with every step.

He didn’t argue. He just followed a step behind you, close enough to catch you if you slipped. You stumbled once, twice, your heel catching against the edge of a step, but every time, his hand hovered just inches away.

Behind you, a quiet breath of amusement slipped from him. You hated that he found something about your clumsy attempts at control amusing. Cute, even.

By the time you reached your room, your pulse felt heavy in your ears. You pushed the door open, stepping inside and heading straight for the bed. The moment the mattress dipped beneath your weight, relief hit you all at once. Your head tilted back slightly as you exhaled, shoulders sinking as the room spun lazily around you.

Behind you, you heard him shift. You didn’t need to look to know that he was turning to leave. Your gaze snapped toward him instantly. “Wait,” you said,

He paused near the door, hand hovering near the handle, turning his head slightly to glance back at you. His expression was unreadable as always, like he hadn’t just followed you up two flights of stairs while you nearly tripped over yourself.

Your eyes narrowed faintly. “Don’t just walk out,” you muttered, voice quieter now, something playful slipping beneath the tension despite the lingering irritation still buzzing through you.

Your gaze dropped briefly to your feet, then back to him again. “My heels,” you said, lifting one foot slightly toward him in silent demand.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he stepped forward.

The mattress dipped slightly as he lowered himself, kneeling in front of you without a word. His fingers wrapped around your ankle. You inhaled sharply before you could stop yourself.

Carefully, he slipped the first heel off your foot, easing it free with practiced precision. The relief came instant, your toes curling slightly against the soft fabric beneath you. His touch lingered just a second longer, before he set the heel aside.

His fingers closed around your other ankle, the pad of his thumb brushing the delicate knob of bone there. You felt the silk of your dress ride up another scant inch as you shifted. Then, playful and drunk, you lifted your newly freed leg and draped it over his broad shoulder.

The movement was slow enough to be teasing, fast enough to catch him off guard. His body locked. The silk pooled higher along your thigh until the hem barely skimmed the crease where leg met hip. You knew exactly what the angle gave him: the shadowed valley between your thighs, the thin lace that clung to you, already damp from the slow burn of the entire evening.

Jungkook’s jaw flexed. His gaze flicked down for one involuntary second, before he tore his eyes back to your face. The warning in them made you giggle softly, the sound fraying at the edges because the heat between your legs was turning liquid.

His shoulder felt hard and hot under the sole of your foot as you flexed your toes against the muscle there, just to feel him tense.

He exhaled through his nose, barely controlled. When his fingers returned to slide the second heel free, you didn’t wait. You swung your other leg up, trying to hook it over his opposite shoulder, caging his head completely between your thighs. The motion dragged the silk dress almost to your waist.

Your hands dove into his hair at the same moment, fingers twisting, ruffling the soft black strands as though you could pull him straight into you. Your breathing had shifted to shallow little pants that lifted your chest.

Jungkook caught your ascending thigh in a hard grip before you could complete the cage. His palm was wide, fingers digging into the soft flesh just above your knee.

“Kiss me,” you whispered as your cheeks burned from shock at the boldness that came out of you. Your lips felt swollen even though he hadn’t touched them yet.

Your fingers tightened in his hair. “Please, Jungkook.”

His throat worked. You watched the muscle jump, watched the war play out behind his eyes, the want in them burning so vicious it made his hands tremble where they held you.

You could see it in the way his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as though he were already tasting you. But he didn’t move. Slowly, agonizingly, he rose.

You whined at the loss of him between your thighs and lunged forward before he could get too far. Your mouth crashed into his, sloppy and desperate, all teeth and tongue. Your hands scrambled down his chest, nails catching on fabric, then lower, trying to guide one of his big hands between your legs, pressing his palm to the soaked lace so he could feel how swollen and slick you were.

He groaned into your mouth– low, before he caught your wrists and pinned them gently but firmly to your sides.

“We’re not doing this when you’re drunk,” he rasped against your lips. His voice sounded like it hurt to say. “Okay?”

For a second, you didn’t process the words. All you felt was the warmth of his breath against your mouth. A shy, tipsy smile curved your lips, cheeks already burning as the alcohol loosened something deep inside you.

You looked up at him with those soft doe eyes, pleading with drunken need, too embarrassed to say anything out loud but too horny to stop.

Your fingers trembled a little as you clutched the front of his shirt, gently tugging him closer instead of yanking. Jungkook’s breath hitched, but he let you pull him down until one knee rested on the mattress between your legs.

Emboldened by the haze in your head, shyly, almost timidly at first, you start rocking, shy rolls of your hips that dragged your dripping lace along his thigh. A soft, embarrassed whimper escaped you as you grew braver, the alcohol making everything feel warmer and more urgent.

Jungkook stayed perfectly still at first, letting you. His hands rested lightly on your waist as he watched your flushed face, the shy way your lips parted on every little moan, but then his grip tightened.

He caught your wrists gently but firmly, pinning them to your sides as he stood up straight again, pulling his thigh away from your aching core in one smooth motion.

He loomed over you now, tall and broad, breathing hard while you sat on the edge of the bed, legs still slightly spread, hips giving one last involuntary twitch at the sudden loss of friction.

Your brows pulled together instantly. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you snapped, voice thick, irritation flaring fast enough to cover the embarrassment creeping into your chest. You tugged against his hold, but he didn’t let go.

His jaw tightened. “You can barely stand,” he said, firmer. “You almost fell twice on the stairs.”

“I did not,” you shot back immediately, even though you very clearly had.

“You did,” he repeated calmly.

You glared at him, heat rushing to your face not just from the alcohol, not just from the kiss, but from the sheer audacity of him stopping you.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you muttered, voice dropping lower now, sharper. “We’ve done worse than this.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

His gaze darkened instantly. “You’re drunk,” he repeated slower, like he was forcing himself to stay steady. “And I’m not touching you like that when you’re like this.”

The firmness in his voice made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect. Not from the rejection, not really.

Something worse. Something that felt suspiciously like being… taken care of.

You hated that feeling.

Hated how your pulse stuttered at the realization that he wasn’t pushing you away. He was holding himself back. For you.

Your lips parted slightly, the anger still sitting on your tongue but dulling around the edges. Slowly, he loosened his grip on your wrists.

“You’re staying here,” he added quietly. “Sleeping it off.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, even though your heart was still beating too fast. A faint pout tugged at your lips as you blinked up at him, searching his face.

“Are you going to leave?” you asked, voice quieter now and lacking its usual bite.

He tilted his head slightly at that, studying you. “Do you want me to?” he asked in return.

You hesitated for half a second. “No.” The answer came out softer than expected.

Something in his expression shifted, unreadable, but he nodded once. “Okay,” he said simply. “Then I’ll stay.”

Without another word, he moved to the floor beside the bed, lowering himself until his back rested against the mattress.

You finally let yourself fall back onto the bed, exhaling heavily as the tension drained from your body. The silk of your dress had ridden up again, and you tugged it down absently over your thighs, smoothing the fabric into place before letting your hand drift to your forehead.

Your breathing was still uneven. For a while, you just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, letting the dizziness fade little by little. The quiet of the room felt unfamiliar, just the faint sound of your own breathing and his steady presence beside the bed.

Time passed without you really noticing. Eventually, you shifted, rolling onto your side. Now you were facing his back.

From where you lay, you could see the shape of his head, the broad line of his shoulders, the way he sat there without moving, exactly where he said he’d be.

Your lips parted slightly before you even realized it. “Jungkook…”

He hums quietly in response, not turning around yet. Just acknowledging you, “Mm?”

“Are you asleep?” you asked, voice softer now like you weren’t sure if you actually wanted an answer.

A small pause followed, before a quiet huff of breath left him, something nearly close to a suppressed laugh. “No,” he said simply.

You shifted slightly on the bed, the sheets rustling faintly beneath you as you adjusted your head on the pillow. Your eyes stayed fixed on the back of his shoulders, tracing the outline of them through the dim lighting as another brief silence settled between you.

You swallowed. “Then why are you so quiet?” you muttered, a faint frown pulling at your lips. “It’s weird.”

He let out another slow breath, shoulders rising and falling once. “You told me to stay,” he replied calmly. “Not talk.”

You rolled your eyes at that, even though he couldn’t see it. Your fingers curled slightly into the bedsheet as you watched him.

Silence settled between you again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just lingered heavy in the air like there were still too many things sitting on your tongue, waiting to be said.

Your gaze drifted toward the ceiling instead. But your mind wasn’t there. It kept pulling you back, to the club, Yoona, to the way her smile curled, to the way your chest had tightened the second you saw her.

Your fingers tightened slightly into the sheet. “Jungkook…” you said again, quieter this time.

“Yeah?”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. The words sat heavy and stubborn behind your teeth as you hesitated for a beat, but once they started pushing forward, there was no stopping them.

“Yoona…” you murmur, almost as if testing how the name sounds on your tongue, “she’s... my step sister,” you whisper, voice barely above the hum of the air conditioning.

Saying it aloud feels like letting go of something heavy as for the first time, you put it into someone else’s ears.

Jungkook hums softly, straightening slightly on the floor, his eyes attentive even though you refuse to meet them. You turn your face toward the ceiling instead, unwilling to let him see how raw it is.

“That woman you saw earlier,” you continue, dragging the words out slowly, “the one who approached her while she was talking to me… that was my mother.”

You pause, letting the silence fill in around the words. “Yoona used to be my best friend. Before I… found out she was my step sister.” You squeeze your eyes shut briefly, memory crawling under your skin.

“We did everything together. Went everywhere together. Wore the same dresses. I’d let her play with my toys when she didn’t have any of her own…” You laugh bitterly, that almost tastes like old anger. “…and I didn’t know I was… just letting her take everything from me.”

Your chest tightens as the rant continues, “All the time I wanted her to be my friend… she wanted to be me. Take my things, my… everything.”

Your fingers curl into the sheets beneath you. The memory twists again. “…Then the divorce. My father found out about my mom’s… affair. And Yoona? She already knew. Knew who my mother was, and she said nothing. Nothing at all.”

You take a sharp breath, tasting it in your throat. “Didn’t even blink when my mother left me to be with… with her. With her father. Didn’t care about our friendship. Didn’t care that I was left behind. Just… took my mom.”

The words hang between you now, heavy and raw. You finally let your eyes drift toward him, fleeting just enough to check if he’s still listening. His expression doesn’t judge, it just… holds you quietly.

You exhale, letting some of the weight drain from your chest, but not all. “And tonight… seeing her there, talking to you, acting like she knows something about you, something I don’t…” Your voice falters, and you turn back to the ceiling again, swallowing hard. “…I just… I hate it.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. He just shifts slightly, the faint scrape of his clothing against the floor the only sound, and it’s enough to not make you feel so small, so exposed and so angry and sad all at once.

“And about what she said earlier…” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as if speaking it aloud will hurt less that way. “About me… not being serious with guys… she’s not wrong.”

Your chest tightens as the words tumble out unevenly. “The guys I date… they don’t know me. They get attracted to me, to my wealth, to the idea of me, the perfect image. But…” You hesitate, throat tight. “It doesn’t… it doesn’t fill anything. It doesn’t reach the part of me that actually… wants to be seen.”

You open your eyes just slightly, catching the edge of his gaze, and something in his stillness makes it easier to speak. “Nobody ever… takes the time. Nobody tries to know me piece by piece. And if they do… they always end up disappointed, or I disappoint them. I…” Your voice falters, and you blink rapidly, ashamed but craving to be understood. “…I just… I get lonely...Even with all of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, and it drifts naturally into something more raw, because it’s not just emotional, your body remembers the same thing. “And… and sex,” you admit quietly, almost like you’re letting a secret out to the room instead of just him.

“It… never interested me. Not really. Nobody ever tried to… to figure out what actually… makes me feel… anything. They just…” You pause, shoulders rising slightly. “…they just expect it to be enough. And it’s never enough. I was never… touched the way I needed to be touched. Never kissed where it actually mattered. Never looked at like…”

The confession hangs between you, almost intimate in the way the air seems to thicken. The sentence fractures as you feel the heat crawl up your throat. Because you’re lying. Not entirely, but enough.

You have been seen.

You have been unraveled.

You remember Jungkook’s mouth, tracing the places no one else ever bothered to linger. The way his fingers would pause, waiting for the hitch in your breath before they moved again, learning you like he refused to rush.

You remember how he’d groan low against your throat when you arched into his hand, not because he was chasing his own release, but because your pleasure seemed to feed his. You remember the way his rhythm would falter, every single time, when your eyes locked in the middle of it, like he was afraid of what he’d find there and still couldn’t look away.

You pretend you don’t notice everytime it happens.

You pretend the memory doesn’t live under your skin right now, pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You can feel him there, listening to you in the silence. The knowledge that he could see all of you, the real, lonely and messy parts you always hide, makes your pulse spike.

“I’ve… never been in love,” you admit quietly, voice trembling just slightly. “I know nothing about it. I’ve never… I’ve never been brave enough, or… or had the chance to trust anyone that much.”

Your gaze drifts to the ceiling, hands tangling in the sheets, clenching and unclenching as if it steadies you. There’s also a strange relief in finally letting the raw truth out.

Jungkook shifts just a fraction closer, watching you with those quiet, unreadable eyes.

Now he knows. He knows why you push him away when he tries to get close. He knows the fear hiding behind your sharp edges, your bratty deflection. And now… hearing you like this, open and fragile, it makes him question what he is to you.

“What about you… Jungkook?” Your voice is almost hesitant, like dipping a toe into dangerous waters. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Silence stretches for a moment. You expect an answer, maybe something simple or dismissive even, but he doesn’t give you that. Instead, you hear the faint shift of fabric as he adjusts slightly against the floor.

“You just told me,” he says quietly, voice low and even, “that you don’t trust anyone.”

Your fingers tighten slightly into the bedsheet. He continues before you can interrupt, “That you keep people at a distance,” he adds. “That the men you date don’t know you, don’t even try to.”

“And now,” he murmurs, voice softer but sharper somehow, “you’re asking me about love.”

Your jaw tightens. You don’t answer him, because you don’t know how to.

A quiet breath leaves him, almost thoughtful. “That’s not a random question,” he continues, “Not after everything you just said.”

That one stings. Not because it’s cruel, but because it’s accurate.

“You push people away before they get close,” he adds. “Make sure they never see enough to stay.” Your throat tightens.

“So why ask me that now?” he finishes, voice dropping slightly. “What made you think about love… just now?”

Silence settles again, heavy and personal this time. And the worst part is, you don’t feel attacked...you just feel seen.

Which is somehow worse.

Your throat tightens slightly, and you turn your face further into the pillow, avoiding his back, his shoulders, the way he’s still sitting there like he hasn’t just peeled something open inside you.

Silence stretches too long. Your throat feels too tight, like the words are stuck somewhere between your chest and your mouth.

“…Because I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like,” you mutter finally, voice so low it is almost swallowed by the quiet of the room. The admission hangs there, raw and ugly, honest in a way you hate.

You shut your eyes briefly, jaw tightening like you already regret saying it.

“I didn’t say I don’t let people close,” you add after a moment, more defensive now, irritation creeping back into your tone like armor snapping into place.

Your fingers curl into the sheets beneath you. “…You’re still here, aren’t you?”

The words slip out before you can stop them.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“I am.”

You swallow slowly, staring at the back of his head, at the broad line of his shoulders. “…You didn’t answer,” you murmur after a moment, less defensive this time. “My question.”

Your throat tightens slightly before you force the words out again. “Have you… ever been in love?”

This time, the question sounds different, more careful. Like you’re afraid of the answer, but want it anyway.

He shifts slightly, the faint sound of fabric brushing against the floor breaking the quiet, long enough to make your pulse pick up again.

“…No,” he says finally.

Your brows knit faintly. That answer surprises you more than you expected... Not because you thought he had, but because the way he said it didn’t sound bitter.

Another breath leaves him slowly. “But I know what it shouldn’t feel like,” he adds after a moment. That makes your fingers still, but you don’t interrupt.

“It shouldn’t feel like pretending,” he continues quietly. “Or proving something to someone, or keeping score.”

Another small silence settles between you. Then, softer, “And it shouldn’t feel lonely,” he finishes.

That one hits the hardest when you realize that’s exactly what all your past relationships felt like... lonely. You don’t respond right away.

For the first time…you’re wondering if what you feel when you’re with him

is the opposite of lonely.

The thought unsettles you more than it should. You shift slightly on the bed, the silk of your dress rustling faintly as you pull the blanket higher over yourself, suddenly aware of how tired your body feels. Your head still spins faintly, the alcohol dulling the sharp edges of everything you’ve just said.

“…Jungkook,” you murmur again after a while, voice softer now.

He hums quietly in response, still facing away and sitting there like he promised he would.

“…Don’t tell anyone,” you mutter finally, voice rough with exhaustion. “About tonight.”

A pause. “About yoona, about any of it.”

You don’t look at him when you say it. Another quiet beat passes before his voice comes, steady as ever.

“I won’t.”

Your breathing slows, growing heavier as sleep begins to creep in at the edges of your thoughts. You watch the outline of his shoulders blur slightly as your eyes grow heavier and your lashes finally fell shut.

The room settled into silence. Jungkook sat there with his back against the side of your bed, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing behind him, deepening with every passing second. The tension that had coiled tight between the two of you all night had finally loosened, melting into the quiet hum of the room.

Eventually, he shifted, just enough to glance over his shoulder to meet your frame where you lay half curled into the sheets, silk twisted carelessly around your legs while your hair spilled across the pillow in uneven strands. Your cheeks were still flushed faintly pink from the alcohol, lips parted slightly as your breathing deepened into sleep.

He stared at the loose strand of hair that had fallen across your face, then reached back without thinking, fingers brushing lightly against your temple as he tucked it behind your ear. You stirred faintly but didn’t wake. His hand lingered there a moment, before he pulled back.

His jaw tightened faintly as he stood. Your dress had ridden up slightly while you slept, silk messily bunched unevenly at your thighs. He frowned, tugging the fabric back into place, smoothing it down so it fell properly again before his attention shifted around the room.

This wasn’t your main bedroom, he could tell that much. He stepped away from the bed slowly, gaze drifting across the room as he took in the sleek desk, the flawless shine of surfaces that looked cold in the way perfection often was. Even the air felt conditioned into quiet luxury, untouched by the chaos of everyday living.

You were the only thing in the room that looked lived in. Soft, like you didn’t belong to the sharp edges surrounding you.

Then, his phone buzzed, the sound slicing cleanly through the quiet. He frowned slightly, pulling it from his pocket, already lowering the brightness before glancing at the screen.

Minho.

That alone made him straighten. He cast one quick look back toward the bed, making sure you were still asleep before answering. You hadn’t moved, one arm tucked loosely beneath the pillow.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

He listened in silence, his expression tightening just slightly as the voice on the other end continued. Whatever Minho was saying, it wasn’t casual.

“…When did that happen?” he asked under his breath.

Another pause followed, longer this time as his gaze drifted back toward you again, lingering for a second as if weighing something, before he exhaled slowly through his nose. “Alright,” he murmured at last. “I’ll come.”

He ended the call and stood there for a moment, staring at the dim screen in his hand as the silence returned to the room. But it no longer felt the same. Something had shifted.

After a second, he turned back toward you, still unguarded in a way you never allowed yourself to be while awake... Like warmth had been placed carefully into a room that didn’t know what to do with it.

The blanket had slipped slightly from your shoulder again, exposing your collarbone. He stepped closer and pulled the fabric back into place, smoothing it down.

He withdrew his hand immediately after, jaw tightening faintly as he straightened again. He watched you for a second longer than he intended, something unreadable passing briefly across his face before he turned away.

Without another sound, he walked toward the door, opened it carefully, and stepped outside. He paused only once, glancing back into the room, before closing the door behind him with quiet finality.

By morning, the silence he left behind would feel louder than the door itself, and you wouldn’t remember the way he stayed, only the way he left.

note: i might write oneshots between updates as i’ve sooo many ideas and also cus im at a veryy jungkook time of my life

🖇tags!!<33 @magicalnachocreator @jungkookgoodlookin @cherricherryy @cookysstuff @oopscoop @smoljimjim @mar-lo-pap @jeonmaleficent @albascardigan @kissintae @yama24 @rxouls @fxirytaetae @httpjeonlicious @mi-mi-7 @satisfied18 @sleepymochiiii @shadowofhearts21 @bjoriis @nikkinit @tina-20 @yopjm @junecat18 @jungkookgoodlookin @berryonasummerevening @kooklv @curiousswordarcade @leathrndlace @avawants2havefun @mninotjungkook @tastykookoonut @iscapisms @lilbitcherries @j0cgr0c @amarissaps @hagridshaircare @cherryreadsfics @taehyungseggs

[almatiarau]

My current obsessionnnnnnn

[jimimn]

SWIM - BTS

[almatiarau]

This is their love song to us, i could spend a lifetime watching you

[bts-is-back]

like or reblog if you save. 𐙚

[almatiarau]

Hello dear,

I hope ur doing well 💝 I just came across your fanfic „Something just like this“ again and was wondering if there will be a final chapter?

Lots of love 🫶🏼

omg helloo, thank you for reaching out. yes, something just like this will have a final chapter and currently i've been writing around 7k-ish words but it's not finished yet. i'm sorry it's taking too long but life had been so hectic with work and everything. hopefully i can finish it soon. now that i know there is someone waiting, it definitely motivates me more. lots of love to you too bby!

[jung-koook]

JUNGKOOK's Rolling Stone cover shoot behind the scenes

[dreamersparacosm]

when did you get hot? ᯓ★ jeon jungkook

— a dreamersparacosm 7k special .ᐟ.ᐟ

SUMMARY. Life after high school has been pretty mundane. Give or take a few breakups, a few quarter life crises, you’ve done well for yourself. Enter Jeon Jungkook: a blast from the past and your ex-Chemistry tutor, except now, it seems he's traded in his glasses and textbooks for a lip piercing and tattoos. The universe is clearly testing you... or maybe it's giving you one last shot to get it right.

pairing. jeon jungkook x reader

word count. 21.7k

warnings/genre. ex-cheerleader!reader, oc used to be a mean girl, ex-nerd!jungkook, jungkook used to be OBSESSED with oc, like clinically obsessed (what is wrong with him), slight sexting (kinda maybe) alcohol consumption, jimin instigating but what’s new, making out in dirty club hallways, fingering in an uber, he’s HUNGRYYY, he has a d*ck piercing!, oral (f receiving), you bounce on it, he fucks you while carrying you, idk read the rest they have sex, he cums inside you

note. WE NEED TO BRING BACK THE DYING ART OF A 10k+ WORD ONE-SHOT. the concept of publishing a 7k celly when my 6k celly hasn’t even been posted yet… i hate me too. i hit 7k a few days ago but this has been in the works since man’s best friend dropped. i’m quite proud of this, if i do say so myself. also before anyone yells at me, this was NOT on the to-do list but when there’s a will, there’s a way (or in my case, if you get a little tipsy, your brain starts thinking of ex-nerd!jungkook and this happens). this is just a fun little thing. porn with plot! but anywho, thank you all for following me, for engaging with my work, for continuing to give me a platform to share my passions. i love you all. here’s to many more celly’s!

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| when did you get hot? by sabrina carpenter

banner creds | masterlist

Saturdays. 3 PM. Brunch. It’s been carved in stone since the day you met Park Jimin during your freshman year at Yonsei University, when he was still closeted and you were still treating every night like your last on earth.

Today, he’s on a rampage about his fiancé of two years, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you know what he did? He bought a twelve foot cactus. Twelve. Fucking. Feet. And guess where it is now?” Jimin waves his fork dramatically, almost stabbing two nearby patrons in the process. “In the middle of our beautifully crafted living room. He’s lost his fucking mind.”

You hum, twirling a straw in your iced latte, half-listening and half-focused on the couple next to you who seems to be arguing. “So sorry, Jiminie. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Thank you.” He sighs. “It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen when I inevitably walk into it. You know, when I told Tae to pursue art, I didn’t think it meant this.”

Taehyung and Jimin have the kind of love story that makes romantic comedies look documentary-level realistic. By comparison, your love life is a blooper reel that never made it to air. They’ve been disgustingly in love since senior year of university, and you’ve been their trusty little third wheel. While it’s comforting to hang out with a couple that has a dynamic as healthy as theirs, you do have to fight the pang of jealousy that hits you everytime. 

“Last week it was the sculpture made of kitchen utensils. This week, desert plants. Next week? Probably something with a blow torch,” Jimin carries on, poking at his salad mercilessly. 

You snort. “Tae doesn’t know how to work a blow torch.”

“He could, is my point. He’ll try anything once.” Jimin’s eyes light suggestively, and the gag reflex hits fast and mercilessly. “Like that one time he wanted to try out suspension and—”

“Jimin. Please. I am trying to enjoy my coffee,” you plead. 

He rolls his eyes. “Like you don’t love us.”

“I do,” you reply quickly. “But please spare a girl the details of your sex escapades.”

“Maybe you’re bitter because you need some sex escapades of your own.” Jimin shrugs. He’s not saying it to be rude—the man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, unless someone’s rude to his fiance. 

Poor Park Jimin has been running a one-man campaign to get you laid for months. The last time you remotely showed interest in a man was a year ago, and that catastrophe ended with you sobbing on their couch for 72 hours straight while Taehyung made you soup and Jimin burned sage to ‘cleanse the toxic energy.’

You have no interest in any of it.

Sure, sex is cool and all, but the idea of the emotional turmoil that comes with the territory seems like something you can do without. 

“What did I say about bringing up this topic again?” you groan. 

“C’mon, please tell me you have something new that’ll make me feel better about my cactus situation.”

Your fingers collect the condensation on your plastic cup, pretending to be deeply engrossed by it. “I have nothing.”

“So as exciting as my cactus?” 

Your foot kicks his ankle under the table and the noise he makes in retaliation is enough to get dirty looks from the other patrons. “Jesus Christ. Aren’t you a ball of fucking sunshine?” he moans in agony. “This is why you need to have sex. You get all crabby and violent when you don’t. When’s the last time you had sex again?”

Okay—there was that guy from the marketing conference in March…. No wait. That was last year. February? No, that was the guy who ghosted you after two dates. January? You weren’t even in the country in January. December feels like a decade ago but that was... oh god, was that really eight months ago? Nine? The guy with the man bun who worked at the bookstore and couldn’t find your— 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Yikes.” He gives you a dramatic side-eye, one that screams you are a pathetic loser, but lovingly. “You need to stop getting coffee with me and go get coffee with a man.”

You frown. “Well, you’re a man?”

He rolls his eyes. “A man who doesn’t enjoy the good ol’ cock up his ass.”

Fair play. Jimin leans back in his chair, studying you intently. Never a good sign. “You know what your problem is?”

You pick up your latte, taking a few sips. “Enlighten me, Park Jimin.”

“You’re too picky.”

Coffee snorts out of your nostrils, landing right onto the table. Jimin flings napkins at the mess, disgusted. “I’m sorry, have you met me? I’ve went out with some weirdos.”

“No, no, not the weirdos.” He waves a hand in the air. He;s about to go on one of his famous monologues, and all you can do is sit back in horror and watch. “I’m talking about the good ones. The ones you actually like. You find one tiny flaw and suddenly it's ‘oh, he chews too loud’ or ‘he uses the wrong there, their, they're.’ Like, relax. Nobody’s perfect.”

“Really? Says the guy currently plotting his fiance’s death over a home decor choice.”

“That’s different.” Jimin’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, something he truly only does when you’ve exhausted his last nerve. “Taehyung and I are past the point of no return. We're in too deep. You, my dear sweet angel, are sabotaging perfectly good opportunities because you're scared.”

Of course, you’ve had this conversation with your therapist numerous times, and you’ll do anything to avoid the topic in your personal life.

But before you can open your mouth to argue, a voice cuts through. It’s low but polite, maybe a little uncertain. 

“Jimin-ssi?”

You don’t bother looking up to see who it is. Jimin knows everyone and their mother, their cousin, probably their dog too. Walking down the street with him is no easy feat, considering half of Seoul stops to talk to him. So, you do what you always do: focus on your phone and ignore the small talk about someone’s new job or whatever mundane life update they’re dying to share.

You scroll through Instagram, half-listening as they exchange pleasantries. Something about the gym, mutual friends, weekend plans. Standard small talk that you've heard a thousand times. 

“Yeah, bro, it’s been forever,” Jimin’s saying. He sounds happier than he normally does when he talks to these people. “I saw your LinkedIn update. How’s the new job treating you? Still insane?” 

“Better now that I’m settled in,” the mysterious voice responds, and there’s something familiar about it that tickles the back of your brain, but you’re too busy watching someone's Instagram story about their breakfast to pay attention. “The team’s chill, and I don’t have to be on call on weekends anymore.”

“You deserve it after all that overtime hell,” Jimin laughs. “Oh, hey, you should totally meet my friend [YN] here. [Y/N], this is Jeon Jungkook.”

Your head snaps up. Your phone falls to your lap. 

What. The. Fuck. 

You haven’t heard that name since high school. 

High school you, to put it mildly, was kind of a bitch.

You were a cheerleader, top of the social food chain. Naturally, you failed a few classes because you were too busy making out with Kim Mingyu behind the bleachers and planning which party to hit up on Friday night to care about things like academic integrity. 

When your GPA started looking tragic enough to threaten your spot as cheer captain, the guidance counselor assigned you a tutor. And since the universe loves to have fun with you, you were paired with Jeon Jungkook. Lanky, awkward Jeon Jungkook, with messy brown hair that looks like he cut it himself with safety scissors, thin silver glasses that slid down his nose every five seconds, and wide, innocent boba eyes. 

All that to say—you did what any mean girl would do and took advantage of him. Batted your eyelashes, laughed at his terrible jokes, and suddenly your chemistry homework was getting done without you having to lift a finger. 

Tests? He'd leave his answer sheet just visible enough for you to copy. 

Lab reports? Practically wrote themselves, if by ‘themselves’ you mean Jungkook wrote them while you filed your nails and complained about how boring science was. 

So, this? This has to be a comedic joke. This is a prank. Jimin is pranking you—it’s an elaborate one, you'll give him that. That's the only logical explanation because there is absolutely no way that the scrawny, stuttering kid who used to turn tomato red everytime you asked him to explain a chemistry problem is now standing here, towering over your table. 

The man who stands before you has a lip piercing, one that hugs the curvature of his pink lips. A sleeve of tattoos that curls down his arm in vivid ink. His hair is perfectly tousled, dark chestnut locks falling into each other. 

And most importantly, those arms. Biceps. He could probably bench press you. Why are you thinking about him bench pressing you? Stop thinking about him bench pressing you. Oh god, you're staring. You're definitely staring. Say something. Anything. Be cool.

He is—there's no other word for it—buff. Like, really buff. 

And he's looking right at you with dark eyes that definitely weren't that intense in high school, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N]...” His voice has a deeper timber to it, with a confidence that high school Jungkook could never have. His tone alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine. “It’s been a minute.”

“Uh, I—yeah,” you gulp down a quarter-sized lump that magically appears in your throat. “It has.”

Smooth. Incredibly smooth. Someone needs to hand you a medal for conversational excellence. 

His eyes narrow into slits, like he’s analyzing you and your pathetic life. Sizing you up to discover that you’ve lost all importance in the world, and are now just another girl in the world. 

Jimin, completely oblivious to everything, beams at the two of you. “Amazing! You two already know each other.” He claps his hands together. “Jungkook, you should sit. [Y/N] and I were just catching up on her sad little love life.”

Damn you, Park Jimin. 

Maybe ten years ago, you wouldn’t have cared if he knew about your romantic failures, but with the black shirt hugging his biceps so perfectly, you resent Jimin’s openness. 

“I was not—” you protest, but Jungkook’s already got a hand on the empty chair between you two, plopping into it. 

“Was she now?” Jungkook tuts, looking over at you expectantly. “How sad is sad?”

“Okay, not sad.” You roll your eyes. “It’s just… quiet.”

His eyes dance with amusement, and you sink into the chair. “I can’t imagine you having trouble in this department.”

If only he knew the half of it. 

You open your mouth to combat the embarrassment, maybe to come up with some elaborate lie about how you have three dates lined up tomorrow night, but a server interrupts you before you get the chance. She smiles at Jungkook, and you can't help but note how her eyes twinkle when she realizes how utterly attractive he is. You sink one inch lower into the chair. 

Please don’t order, Jungkook. Ordering means staying and your brain (or your ego, for that matter) can’t take a second more. 

She asks what he wants, pearly whites on display, and he replies smoothly, “Just a black coffee is fine. Thanks, sweetheart.” 

He turns back to you and Jimin, smiling lightly. Behind him, the server trips over her own two feet a bit before adjusting her shirt and walking off. You watch the whole exchange with a weird feeling in your chest. It's not jealousy—you have no claim to be jealous. But it's something. Maybe annoyance that she was so obvious about it. Maybe annoyance that he didn't seem to notice. 

“So, how do you two know each other?” Jimin’s smile resembles a mischievous cartoon villain who just tied someone to railroad tracks. Vibrating with joy, eyes gleaming, the whole nine yards. You don’t even need to hear him speak to know what he’s thinking. 

“High school.” 

You and Jungkook both say in unison, surprising even yourself. He glances over at you before elaborating. “I was her Chemistry tutor.”

The memory alone sends shivers of disgust down your spine. You can still picture it so clearly: high school you in your cheer uniform, sitting across from him in the library with phone in hand, texting Mingyu about whose parents were out of town that weekend while Jungkook explained electron configurations. He’d push his glasses up his nose, stumble over his words when you’d sigh and lean forward, watch him turn crimson red and stutter through the rest of the explanation. 

Evil. Pure, unadulterated evil. 

“You needed a tutor in high school?” Jimin snorts, taking a long sip of his drink. 

“Hey, that shit isn’t easy.” You push his shoulder playfully. 

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. “Definitely not easy when you’re too busy with cheerleading practice to study.”

“And you were a cheerleader?” Jimin gapes.

“Okay, that’s enough reminiscing for today.”

Jimin raises his hand. “I’m not done reminiscing. I want to hear more about cheerleader [YN].”

Your face falls flat. Luckily, before Jungkook can embarrass you more with tales from a decade ago, the server comes back with his coffee, making sure to toss him the widest smile her pearly whites can muster. 

Jungkook’s lips wrap around the cup. Your eyes just so happen to fall on the movement, on the way they hug the rim. Were they always that kissable or did he get lip filler?

He meets your gaze.

Shit.

You turn back to Jimin, who’s eagerly awaiting more from Jungkook. “What else don’t I know about high school [Y/N]? She’s never told me anything.”

“Well,” Jungkook starts, and by the way his lips curve upwards, you can tell the next anecdote won’t be endearing. “She did ask me once if we could ‘skip the math parts’ of chemistry.”

Jimin bursts out in laughter. “You’re kidding me.”

“In my defense, chemistry is like, ninety percent math,” you retort. “That’s a reasonable request.”

“It really wasn’t,” Jungkook counters, and his grin widens. There’s something almost… predatory about it. Like he’s enjoying watching you squirm. “But then again, you always did think the rules didn’t apply to you.”

For a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at him. This confidence, this self-assured way he’s teasing you without a hint of anxiety that used to color every interaction, is foreign. 

The absolute worst part of it all is that if he wasn’t currently roasting you for being a shallow human being, this might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed. 

The eye contact, the slight smirk playing at his lips, the veins poking out of his biceps. All of it both excites and confuses you. 

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, laughs to himself. “Just that some things never really change.”

A pregnant pause fills the space. Jimin’s eyes dart between you two like he’s at the US Open and this is the match of the century. 

“You know, she also once asked me if atoms were contagious," Jungkook adds, turning to Jimin like you’re not even there. It’s a fucking power play—one that high school you invented—and you hate how effective it is. 

A long exhale leaves your mouth, and you have to bite back a thousand venomous words in retaliation. Jimin laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. In college, she asked me if square roots were plants.” 

Okay, so math wasn't your strongest suit. Sue a girl. 

Jungkook’s hands wrap around his cup, taking a quick sip. They’re bigger than you remember, rougher, with calluses to match. 

Truthfully, everything about him is just… more. Bigger, broader, bolder.

You shift gears, clearing your throat to interrupt whatever powwow Jungkook and Jimin have going on regarding your academic life. “What do you do now?” 

“Software development.” Jungkook almost seems surprised that you have an interest in his life. “Started at a startup, but I just moved to a bigger company.”

“What kind of software?” you ask mindlessly, happy to have the attention finally off you. 

“Mobile apps. Some web development.” Jungkook shrugs like it’s nothing, but you catch the hint of pride in his tone. “Nothing crazy.”

Jimin chimes in, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, [Y/N] works in marketing for a tech company. You guys probably have tons in common now.”

You want to sink through the floor. Actually—scratch that. Sinking through the floor isn’t enough. You need the floor to open up, swallow you whole, digest you, and then launch whatever remains into the sun. 

You can see exactly what's happening here. You can see the gears turning in Jimin’s pretty little head. He’s planning your wedding, probably picking out centerpieces. He thinks this whole encounter is fate, some kind of romantic star-crossed lovers nonsense where the nerd gets the girl who was too stupid to notice him the first time around. 

He’s going to be insufferable about this. Probably loop Taehyung into this delusion as well. There will be betting pools on when you finally hook up with Jungkook. 

Which—okay, fine—you wouldn’t be completely opposed to. Hypothetically. In theory. 

“How’s that going for you?” Jungkook turns to you. 

“Good. I’ve been at my current company for a few years now. I just got promoted last year.” Your chest puffs out a little. There’s nothing you need to prove to him. But it doesn’t hurt, especially as he validates your words with a slight nod in approval. 

“That’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”

Not said with even an inch of malice. 

“Thank you.” You flip your hair over your shoulder. “See, and I didn’t even need math or chemistry to be successful.”

He chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“I know how emotionally tolling it was to tutor me, so at least your efforts didn’t go to waste,” you joke, and he cracks a smile at that, bunny teeth poking out. 

“It wasn’t that emotionally tolling.” He shrugs, lifting his coffee to his lips. “It was fun. Y’know, when you weren’t texting that guy you used to date.”

He maintains eye contact with you as he takes one, two sips, and you have to clench your thighs to ignore the second heartbeat that’s beating in your vagina. 

Jimin opens his mouth—probably to ask approximately eight thousand invasive follow-up questions about your high school love life—but his phone buzzes violently against the table, the vibration loud enough to rattle his fork. 

Glancing down at his phone, his expression shifts from pure glee to actual panic. “Shit, I need to head out. Taehyung’s making dinner and if I’m late, he’s gonna put that weird purple pesto in it again.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Purple pesto?”

“You know how he is, babe.” Jimin frantically flags down the waiter, motioning for the check. 

You and Jimin always split Saturday brunch. It’s a tradition, one that you don’t plan on breaking. You reach for your wallet in your bag, prepared to pull out your trusty debit card.

But before you or Jimin can get too far, Jungkook smacks his AMEX Platinum card down like it’s nothing. 

You blink at the shiny metal. “Jimin and I always—”

“I’ve got it,” he says, all casual, like dropping 100,000 won on lunch for three people is normal for him. 

To your left, Jimin has the biggest shit-eating grin of all time. “Thanks, Jungkook. You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s my treat. It’s nice to run into old friends.” He tosses you a side glance when he says the word friends, because that’s hardly what you two ever were. 

Jimin’s phone buzzes again, and his eyes widen as they scan the new message. “Oh no. No, no, no.” 

“What?!” You lean forward, trying to peek at his phone. 

“Yeontan threw up all over the new rug. Taehyung just sent me a picture, it’s…” He makes a sour face. “I gotta go. Code red dog situation.”

“Is he okay?” you ask, because despite Jimin’s dramatics, that little ball of fur is your ray of sunshine. 

“He’s fine.” He stands, shrugging on his thin sweatshirt. “He probably ate something he should have. This was great though! We should all hang out again soon!”

And then he’s sprinting out of the cafe, leaving you all alone at the table with none other than Jeon Jungkook. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d say Jimin planned this. Although, to be fair, you do know better, and he one hundred percent planned this. You're going to kill him. You're going to actually murder your best friend.

The waiter comes by, charging Jungkook’s card while you sit there awkwardly, twiddling your fingers. You don’t know what to do with yourself, quite frankly. 

“Jimin isn’t very subtle,” Jungkook says, signing the receipt and placing it aside. 

“Jimin doesn’t do subtle.” You fidget with your napkin. “He probably planned this.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You think so?”

“I know so. He’s been trying to set me up with someone for months.”

Crossing his bulky arms over his chest, he leans back in his chair. “How’s that working out for him?” 

“Well,” you begin, “Considering the last attempt was one of his coworkers who turned out to be married, I would say pretty terrible.”

“Jesus.” 

“I’m not really into the whole polyamory thing,” you joke. 

Jungkook laughs and stands, and you follow suit, realizing how much taller he is than you. Not that he hasn’t always been tall, but now he has the ego to match it. 

“Want me to walk you to your car?” he asks. 

You bashfully look down at your feet. In your years of living in Seoul, you’ve never once been embarrassed about taking the bus before. The Korean bus system is efficient and better for the environment. But Jungkook, with his fancy tech job, probably has some sleek car that makes the bus system look like a clown car. 

“I took the bus, actually.”

Immediately, without so much as a second thought, he goes, “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I know I don’t need to.” He strolls towards the exit, holding the door open for you to glide through first. “I want to.”

Wait. Is he… is he flirting? That was definitely flirting, right?

If he is very specifically flirting with you, that means he either has a terrible memory or some kind of revenge plot in the works. Both options seem likely and panic-inducing. 

When you finally get outside, the crisp afternoon air dances across your skin. The autumn leaves crunch beneath your feet. You keep a few inches for God between you and Jungkook, and he falls into a comfortable pace beside you, matching you. 

His hands are nestled into his pockets, kicking leaves as he walks. Now that you two are alone, he’s returned to some of his old habits, like being quiet around you when there’s nothing to fill the noise with. 

“How do you like your job?” he finally decides upon asking, and your head lifts to peer at him. He’s gazing at you intently, clearly waiting for an answer. 

“I like it. Most days, it’s creative, but we do a good amount of analytical work too.”

“Why did you choose marketing?” He seems genuinely interested in your answer, which sends tingles down your spine. It’s been a while since someone has cared enough to ask about your life beyond the standard two questions. 

“Well, you know I suck at math,” you start, and he laughs at that. A deep sound that reverberates in his chest and makes your insides mushy. “I also hate science, so that wasn’t an option. I like being creative, and I’m a visual person. I took an intro class and it stuck.”

He nods, soaking it in. “Was college you the same as high school you?” 

You know what he’s asking. Was college you also the biggest bitch alive, or did you grow out of that phase?

“Nah.” You shake your head. “I’m not as shallow… or annoying.”

He smiles. “Good to know.”

You reach his car—a black BMW that looks like it was ripped right off the set of Fifty Shades of Grey—and he unlocks it with a soft beep. 

“Your car is nice,” you note, and his cheeks turn a soft pink at the compliment. 

“Thanks. I figured I should probably upgrade from the bus at some point.” He opens the passenger door for you, causing you to almost trip getting in at the sheer thoughtfulness. 

You frown. “Hey! I still take the bus.” 

He raises his hands up in surrender. “Not hating on the bus. I took that bad boy for years.”

Jungkook closes your door, rounding the car to the driver's seat and hopping in. the inside of the vehicle smells like leather, mixed with the faint scent of his cologne. Your brain can’t help but go a little fuzzy—scents are your weakness. Any man who smells good deserves to get their dick sucked, period. 

“Address?” he asks, starting the engine. 

You give it to him, and he inputs it into the GPS. Fifteen minutes, it spits back. Fifteen minutes in a car alone with Jeon Jungkook, the most confusing blast from your past. 

Peeking over at him, you take his appearance in. His jaw is defined and sharp. Could probably cut glass on that thing. His nose juts out, big enough for you to wonder if he’s ever let a girl sit on his face. God, you really need to get laid. You’ve resorted to sexualizing the man you used to tease in high school like some kind of medieval man who just saw an ankle for the first time. 

The guilt of your past sits heavy in your chest, but your body doesn’t seem to care. It wants what it wants, ethics be damned. 

You don’t deserve to be this turned on by someone you treated like human furniture for two years. But here you are, wondering about the logistics of his face between your thighs, and maybe that makes you exactly as terrible as you’ve always suspected.

Your eyes wander down to his biceps, down to his arms that are cluttered with tattoos. Different designs snake down his skin, some with color, and it takes all your might not to reach out and trace them. Fuck, now you’re thinking about his hands gripping the steering wheel. The veins. Those long fingers— 

“You have a lot of tattoos,” you blurt out. 

His eyes remain on the road, but his lips curl upwards. A little bit like a smirk. “I do.”

“When did you start getting them?” you wonder aloud. 

“College. I started with one, but then I got addicted and kept going.” He glances at you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. “You disapprove?” 

“No! No, they’re… they look good. Really good.” You want to die. “But it is different from what I expected from you.”

His gaze hardens. “A lot of things are different from high school.” 

Silence fills the air as you two continue along the highway in the direction of your neighborhood. Your town is quaint, not too far outside of the main downtown area of Seoul. It’s so peaceful that your neighbors are two elderly women who treat you like their daughter. 

You wonder where Jungkook lives. If you had to guess, he probably lives in Gangnam, the upscale area  in Seoul. Fancy tech job, fancy car… he must have a fancy house to match. Or a fancy girlfriend. 

“Do you live near here?” you ask, hoping to sound as casual as possible. Although, realistically speaking, there is nothing casual about interrogating your ex-Chemistry tutor. 

“Not too far. I’m about ten minutes by car.” His grip loosens on the wheel a little. “Near Hannam-dong.”

So, you were kind of right. Hannam-dong, where all the celebrities and rich people live.

Before you can stop yourself, you say, “Do you live alone, or…?”

It’s possibly the least subtle question in the history of subtle questions, but you need to know.

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tautens, and when you look over at him, there’s a scarlet flash creeping up his neck. “I—yeah. Alone. It’s just me.”

Is he… blushing? 

“Oh, cool.” You try not to sound too pleased by the information. “That’s really cool. I mean, not cool that you’re alone if you don’t want to be alone, but cool that you have your own space and— y’know, everything.” 

Nailed it. 

“It’s—yeah, it’s good.” He clears his throat, and suddenly, you get a glimpse of the man you remember in high school. Less like the confident, macho guy from the cafe, and more like the boy who used to stumble over his words when you asked him questions. “No one to, uh, bother me or anything. Not that having anyone would be bothering, I just meant—I live alone. No girlfriend or—”

He stops himself, like he’s just realized what he’s saying, and the flush spreads to the tip of his ears. Oh my god. He’s flustered. Jeon Jungkook, with his tattoos and lip ring and his whole sexy confident energy, is flustered because you asked if he lives alone.

The ex-mean girl in you rises to the surface, bubbles in your throat. It’s been a while since you’ve activated her. Not since college, that one time when Park Eunji threatened your spot as sorority president. That version of you knew exactly what to do: touch his arm, squeeze once, watch him stutter. Make him want you so badly it hurts, then pull away. It's muscle memory, this kind of manipulation. You hate that it's still there, your instinct to weaponize attraction.

You want him to be nervous around you. It’s a sick, twisted thought you have, and you don’t know where it comes from, but you want it. “No girlfriend,” you repeat, trying to hide your smile. Reaching out, you place a small hand on his bicep, squeeze once. His bicep is firm under your palm, and the second you make contact, you realize what you've done. That was flirting 101. High school you would’ve done that without thinking twice, but current you? Current you doesn’t have that kind of game anymore. Abort mission. Abort. 

You yank your hand back to your lap like he’s made of volcanic ash. 

“I didn’t—that’s not—” He runs a hand through his locks, messing it up even more. “I’m just giving context about my living situation.”

“No, I got it.” You keep your eyes trained on the road, even though your heart is doing somersaults in your chest. “Though, I have to admit, I’m shocked.”

He gulps thickly. He pulls up to a red light, finally looking over at you directly. There’s vulnerability in his expression, polar opposite to his earlier reactions to you. “Are you making fun of me?”

Huh. You don’t know why, but the fact that old, anxious Jungkook still lives somewhere deep within him makes your stomach backflip. “I would never,” you reply dramatically, waving your hand for emphasis. “I’m just speaking aloud.”

Jungkook hums at that, focusing his attention back onto the street. It’s quiet again, if not for the sound of the engine purring and the awkward tension that’s loitered in the car since you stepped inside. 

He doesn’t need to ask you anything else anyway, since Jimin did a good job of outing you as the most single girl in the history of single girls. He might as well have just admitted you’re a born again virgin. 

The familiar road of your neighborhood looms ahead, and a pit of despair swallows your stomach whole. You really don’t want to get out of the car that smells like him. It would be embarrassing how you’ve begun to thirst over him, but after not getting laid in a while, you’re about ready to unzip your pants and jam your fingers in there. 

“Is it the building up ahead?” he questions, pointing to the cream apartment complex that you reside in. You nod sweetly, smiling brightly. You dial up the ol’ high school charm. 

“Thanks, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.” Another quick flutter of your lashes as he puts the car in park, taking a deep breath and angling his body to look at you. 

“Of course. Anytime.” His face remains stoic, probably hoping to not look like you affect him anymore than you already have.

Your fingers land on the handle, pushing it open to let the brisk air in, replacing the suffocating tension in the car. “Well, I wish you the best. It was nice running into you today.” 

Maybe you should invite him to come up. Maybe you should invite him for a nightcap? Granted, it is midday and there’s no actual alcohol in your home, but you can think of something real quick. 

But he doesn’t move toward you, or show any other inclination of interest. In fact, you’re feeling kind of slutty right about now. He probably thinks you’re some kind of embarrassing gold digger—which like, yes, you might be. For him only. 

Quietly, he says, “You too,” and that’s the end of that. 

And just as you’re about to slam the passenger door shut and head upstairs to scream into your pillow, Jungkook abruptly speaks. “[Y/N].”

You whip around as fast as your body will let you. “Yeah?” 

His big eyes twinkle under the sunlight rays reflecting on the car, two bunny teeth poking out as he sheepishly smiles. You’re going to have fantasies about that mouth later. 

“Just so you know, today wasn’t planned. But I’m really, really happy I ran into you.”

Huh Yunjin’s birthday bash has never been an easy feat. Every year, without fail, there’s a table bought at an exclusive club, and your entire friend group blacks out within the hour. You’re not sure how she gets away with it, but your love for her and mild fear of disappointing her clearly gets her very far. 

Hence why you’re standing in a shopping mall at 3 PM, trying to decipher what makeup product she would like best. Her birthday gift needs to be top notch, because you’re up against Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, and those two have some kind of gaydar for gift-giving. Last year, Taehyung got her a vintage Chanel bag he “just found” at a thrift store. The year before, Jimin surprised her with tickets to see Beyonce. You’re operating at a disadvantage here.

You pick up another lipstick, eyeing the two intensely. A salesperson loiters over your shoulder, waiting to pounce at any given moment. In the end, you opt for a sleek red lip gloss, one that you know will pair well with her peachy skin. The relief that washes over you at finally securing her gift is endless. 

Pushing past the doors of the shop, you blend into the rest of the mall-goers. It’s pretty packed for an afternoon, but you figure it has something to do with the sales going on. 50% off for shoes… hm. Across the way, you see a sign for 25% off scarves, and you squint to try and make out the tiny writing. Buy one, get one free—

“Oof!”

Your body collides into something firm, something warm. It’s fleeting, and you jump back several feet, immediately armoring yourself with numerous apologies. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

A deep chuckle. “I’m not mad about it.”

You know that voice. That voice has been haunting your wet dreams and your poorly-written mental fanfiction.

When you were ten, you got chosen to attend a unicorn retreat. It was a glorified horse camp, but it was five days of pure magic. Horses walking around with plastic horns on their head, offering unlimited rides to anyone who wanted one. Magical doesn’t even feel like the proper word to describe it. 

You thought that was the most enchanting moment of your life. But this… this rivals any stupid pony. This makes those ponies look like donkeys. In fact, with the luck you’ve been given, you might rent a unicorn and a castle. 

In front of you stands Jeon Jungkook, looking somehow more scrumptious than he did a few days ago. Defying the damn laws of hotness. You’d spent a good few hours tossing and turning in bed, dreaming about his lips, his eyes, his veiny hands. He looks like he stepped straight out of your wet dream, adorned in a zip-up sweatshirt and black t-shirt, fluffy hair askew. 

His eyes still carry that same twinkle from the last time you saw him, and you wonder if they’re like this all the time, or if it's just for you. 

“Hi,” you exhale breathily. 

“Hello.” He smiles at you, and it’s sweet, just a little dopey, and so decidedly adorable that you want to gnaw on his cheeks like a dog with a chew toy. “Must be my lucky day to run into you again.”

“Clearly.” He is flirting. Sure, there were doubts in your mind before this, but anyone who says those kinds of things, is someone who wants to be balls deep inside you. “I don’t normally treat pedestrians like bumper cars, though.”

Jungkook laughs at that, a melodic sound that sends vibrations from your head to your toes. “If I was a better man, I might’ve moved out of the way to make room for you.”

“Well, then I guess it’s my lucky day you’ve decided to not be a better man,” you counter, and he takes a step closer to you, allowing the people behind him to filter around. A mom of three tosses him an evil glare, but you could care less. 

“I was actually hoping to talk to you again so I could ask you a question.” His eyes bore into you, the eye contact making the walls of your vagina contract incessantly. His confidence from the cafe has returned with a vengeance, and you’re not sure what’s gotten into him, but you hope it never leaves. 

“I might have an answer,” you tease. 

His lips quirk upwards into a soft smirk, one that would normally disgust you but doesn’t whatsoever. “I was thinking you and I should get dinner sometime. Maybe catch up one-on-one.”

If this were a game of tennis, you just won match point. He served, you returned, and now the ball’s sitting in his court while he watches it roll away. Checkmate. Victory. Crowd goes berzerk. 

But you know how to play this game. Even though you’re a little out of commission, you still invented half the rules in high school. And rule number one: never let them see you sweat. Rule number two: make them work for it. 

Tilting your head, you pretend to consider it like you haven’t thought about what underwear you would wear to this hypothetical one-on-one time. “Maybe,” you say, drawing out the syllables. “I’ll have to check my calendar.” 

Your calendar is wide open. Your calendar has been wide open for months. Your calendar is begging for plans. Your calendar is weeping with joy at the possibility of having something on it besides ‘therapy 2 PM’ and ‘don’t forget your lexapro.’

But here’s the thing: if you say yes immediately, if you're too eager, too easy, he’ll figure it out. He'll realize you're still that girl who only wants things because they're shiny and new, who gets bored the second the chase is over. Except this time, the thing you want isn’t a spot on the homecoming court or the captain of the basketball team’s attention—it’s him. 

“Maybe?” He’s grinning now, full teeth, like he’s finally been let in on how the game works. “I pour my heart out and I get a maybe?” 

“You didn’t pour your heart out. You asked to get dinner.”

He scoffs, “Same thing.”

“Not even remotely close, lover boy.” You migrate an inch backwards, so miniscule he hardly notices.

Something flickers across his face at the nickname—amusement, or something darker, more interested. His eyes track your movements like a predator watching prey. 

“I feel like you’re just testing fate at this point,” he jokes. You can see the gears turning in his head, shifting and transforming to try and get to his end goal: you. 

“It’s worked once before already.” You shrug, taking a few more steps back. 

“Alright, well, can I at least get your number? Not really feeling like leaving it all up to the universe.” The color drains from his face slowly as he realizes you’re really, truly, going to walk away. His voice raises a little at the end of the sentence. 

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

With that, you turn on your heel, bags in tow, and make your way towards the exit of the mall with what you hope exudes confidence, and not like someone who’s about to sprint outside and scream into the void. His eyes burn into your back the entire way. Don’t turn around. You’re doing so well. You’re a mysterious enigma. You’re unattainable. 

You trip over your own two feet and have to do some weird stumble-hop recovery move just so you don’t eat shit in the middle of the mall.  

Okay, so maybe not entirely mysterious. But you do make it outside with a goofy grin on your face, caught in some kind of daze, all because your ex-Chemistry tutor has made it abundantly clear he wants to see you again. 

The following Saturday, you and Jimin cozy up at a nearby cafe—a different one than last week’s. You suggested it over text a few days ago, after you had run into Jungkook, because there was some perverse thrill to testing fate and the universe’s weird way of working. Jimin, who could care less where he got his cup of coffee, agreed with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“So, tell me again why you didn’t give him your number,” Jimin furrows his brows, picking at his limp salad in disgust. He’s trying this new diet that only allows for 1000 calories a day, and it’s made him even more judgmental than usual. “Walk me through your thought process here.”

You sigh. “Jiminie, I told you already. I’m playing the game.”

“The game… I hate straight people.”

“Hey, you did the same thing with Tae when you guys first started out,” you frown, taking a prolonged sip of your iced latte. Senior year, Jimin refused to see Taehyung more than once a week in fear of seeming too desperate and clingy, even though he texted him every five minutes anyway. 

Jimin lets out a long-suffering sigh, pushing the soggy lettuce into the corner of his plate. “Tae and I are different. We’re homosexuals. There’s no rules when society already hates you anyway. But you are playing a dangerous game with him.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “I’m not. I’m playing hard to get.”

“How do you know he won’t get bored?” It’s an innocent question that, when asked, makes you want to bash your head into a concrete wall. “I mean, you’ve seen the guy. He probably has a roster of girls throwing their phone number at him.”

You pause mid-sip, straw frozen against your lips. You… hadn’t actually thought about it like that. In your mind, this whole thing has been about you trying to regain an inch of the upper hand, about making Mr. Cocky work for it. But Jimin's right—Jungkook isn’t the same nerdy kid who would wait around forever for a crumb of your attention. You’re also not the cheerleader that everybody’s dying to get their hands on. He could have anyone, and yet his sights are set on you (or well, as far as you know).

“Then I guess we’ll just have to see how into me he is.” You shrug, but no ounce of you feels calm. 

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. “Really? Off of one conversation after ten years, he’s supposed to be magically in love with you?” 

“Okay, first of all, it was two conversations, and second of all, do you have no faith in your hot and sexy best friend?” You swish your hair for good measure, but Jimin doesn’t buy it for a second. Your charms have no effect on his gay self. 

“I do have faith in you. However, I can’t recall the last time you’ve successfully kept a guy around after the first kiss…” he trails off, pretending to count on his fingers. You gasp, appalled by the insinuation. 

“Park Jimin,” you scold. He bursts into a fit of laughter, wiping faux tears from his eyes, and you really can’t help but follow suit at the hysterics of it all. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m honest, babe,” he says through another fit of giggles. “You hate to see it.”

“Jimin? [Y/N]?” 

The laughter dies down within a millisecond. Somewhere in the distance, you swear you hear a record scratching. 

Tentatively, you crane your neck upwards. Lo and behold, Jeon Jungkook stands before your table, holding an iced coffee and looking between you and Jimin in bewilderment. He must have a tracker planted inside you, because although you had daydreamed about this scenario approximately ten times in the past few days, never did you actually think it would come to fruition. 

“Why are you here?” you blurt, and Jimin throws you a glare, facepalming. You slap a hand over your mouth. You have the sudden, embarrassing, debilitating urge to vomit. 

Jungkook laughs, and you notice the tip of his ears turning pink. “I could ask you the same thing. This is my regular spot.”

“This is—” You glance around the cafe, like the answer will appear written in invisible ink. “Since when?” 

“Since I moved to the area?” He’s donning a massive grin now, one that lights up his entire face. 

Your face falls flat. In your frantic search for a new cafe, you neglected the fact that the new spot you selected is located in Hannam-dong. Exactly where he told you he lived last week. 

Jimin’s completely forgotten his salad, jumping in to save you from the depths of shame. “Jungkook! Join us.” He’s already pulling out an empty chair before he can protest. 

Jungkook shakes his head, the hoop earrings in his ear moving with him. “I don’t want to interrupt—”

“Don’t be silly,” Jimin retorts quickly, shooting you a look that both screams: you’re an idiot and this is fate knocking at your door. “Come, sit here.”

Jungkook hesitantly sets his drink down, sitting down in the chair. “So, what were you guys laughing at before?” 

You blink a few times, utterly speechless. There’s no universe in which you admit to Jungkook what you two were discussing before his appearance. 

“Nothing crazy,” Jimin starts, and he has this glint in his eyes he only gets when he’s about to do something so diabolically crazy you’ll have to second-guess your friendship. “She was just telling me about this guy she’s playing hard to get with. Real shame, honestly. He sounds great.”

What the fuck is going on? you ask yourself silently. Your mind is shooting blanks. 

Jimin sips his water nonchalantly as if he didn’t just throw you under the bus. 

You finally muster up the courage to speak. “Jimin’s being crazy,” you say, trying to recover some dignity. “There’s no guy.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s smirk is unrattled. “At the mall, you said you had to check your calendar. It sounds like you’re pretty busy.”

Oh, he wants to play this game.  

“I am busy.” You lift your chin in defiance. 

“Doing what?” Jimin chimes in. After this lunch date, he’s lucky if you ever respond to one of his texts ever again. “You texted me yesterday saying you were bored.”

“I hope you die, Park Jimin,” you mutter.

He turns to Jungkook, a conspiratorial grin plastered on his face. “She’s playing hard to get. I told her it's a terrible strategy, but does she listen? No.”

Jungkook’s eyes don’t waver from your face. “Hard to get, huh?” 

“That is not what I’m doing,” you huff, even though that’s exactly what you’re doing, and all parties present at the table know it.

“No, it makes sense.” Jungkook nods, leaning forward in his chair. “After all, you have that busy calendar… you know, the one you need to check.”

“Exactly,” you agree. 

“And have you? Checked it, I mean?”

You stare blankly at him. 

“I’ve been meaning to.”

“Mm,” Jungkook hums, sipping his coffee. The white t-shirt and grey sweatpants combo he’s wearing today makes you feel like a rabid animal who’s been deprived of food for too long. “Who’s the lucky man?” 

“Get this,” Jimin jumps in eagerly. “She met him at the mall.”

“The mall?” Jungkook asks incredulously, dropping his chin into his open palm. 

“And she didn’t even give him her number.” Jimin continues this charade as if you’re not even sitting there. Which, you really wish you weren’t. In fact, you might just bury yourself six feet under this cafe after everything’s said and done. 

“Wow,” Jungkook tuts. “I hope that guy gets her number somehow.”

“Seems like a long shot.” You shrug, fiddling with your straw. 

“Right. I mean, we can’t forget about fate, because fate’s probably working in that guy’s favor.”

It hits you square in the chest, that Jungkook really does know exactly what he’s done, that he is perfectly aware of the effect he has on you. 

​​There's a pause. A long pause. Jimin is grinning like the Cheshire cat, and you're seriously considering faking a medical emergency.

Jungkook’s biceps strain against his shirt, tongue darting out to play with his lip ring. “You know what I think?” His voice drops several octaves, low enough for you and Jimin to hear. “I think this guy should just show up at your door. Skip all the games.”

“That would be weird,” you quip. 

“Would it?” Tilting his head, Jungkook observes you. Feels like he’s seeing right through you with x-ray goggles. “Even if you’ve been thinking about him too?” 

You’re painfully aware of how close he is, how his knee is almost touching yours under the table, how his eyes keep dropping to your lips. Your brain is short-circuiting. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except stare at him and wonder what would happen if you just gave in.

“There’s rules to be followed,” you finally mumble. 

“Rules for what?” Jimin snorts. 

In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the smartest excuse you could’ve conjured up. No one seems to understand the dying art of playing hard to get anymore. 

But, really, it was only a matter of time before you lost your temper and threw in the towel. You were never good at winning anything besides cheerleader championships, anyway. “The game, Jimin. The fucking game I explained to you already. Just so we’re all clear, by the way, I was trying to enjoy my lunch before you two decided to gang up on me, so thank you both very much.”

Jimin and Jungkook deadpan, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. 

Embarrassment courses through your veins, choking your throat. It’s not like you meant to have an outburst and openly admit you’re playing the game with Jeon Jungkook, a man who you used to ignore as if he were invisible. Sometimes a girl gets sexually frustrated and it manifests in interesting ways. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you grumble. You speed-walk as fast as your legs will take you, all the way to the restroom, locking yourself in one of the stalls and plopping down on the toilet. You can’t pinpoint why you’re suddenly overcome with some silly desire to win this ‘game’ you conjured up in your head, why you won’t just give in to what he so clearly wants to offer you. 

But maybe—and you don’t want to admit it—there’s a residual guilt that lives deep inside you. One that when you really face, reminds you of just how cruel you were to others in high school. There was a time in your teenage life where you thought being the queen bee of high school meant you were at the apex of the universe. Now that the tables have turned, and you’re not as big as you once were, maybe you don’t deserve what the universe is trying to offer you. 

Maybe you don't deserve what Jeon Jungkook is trying to offer you.  

It’s Sunday, but it’s hardly peaceful or restorative. Saturday night was spent partying with Yunjin and Chaewon at some club in Gangnam that served drinks comparable to battery acid, which is why you’re currently battling the worst hangover of your entire life. Your head is pounding so hard you can hear your heartbeat in your eyeballs. And you're pretty sure you're still drunk, which means the real hangover hasn't even hit yet. 

There’s no one to blame but yourself. Your brain was a broken record last night: Jungkook, high school, the game. The only way to stop the endless loop was to wash it down with copious soju shots.

Groggily, you roll over and unplug your phone from the charger. A quick scroll through your missed notifications and it’s the usual suspects: Jimin, Yunjin, Taehyung…

Wait. 

Your eyes squint into slits, trying to make sense of the unknown number that sent you one message at 8 AM. You don’t recognize it. Spam, probably. Or maybe someone from last night asking if you got home okay. You don’t remember giving your number to anyone, but then again, you don't remember much after midnight.

You unlock your phone, rub your eyes, and adjust to the bright white light of your messages. 

[phone] waited ten years to run into you again, [Y/N]. im not really interested in waiting another ten to see if fate brings us together a fourth time

It doesn’t take much time for you to put together the puzzle pieces. 

You gasp, nearly flinging yourself off your bed at the realization. You reread the message one, two, three times, just to confirm he really said your name in it. You try to do a little excited kick under your covers, but your legs are tangled in your sheets and you nearly fall off the bed.

After yesterday’s temper tantrum, you had exited the bathroom to see Jeon Jungkook no longer present at the table. Jimin shrugged, said ‘he was tired, so he went home,’ and that was the end of that. You were under the impression that you ruined the entire charade, that you wouldn’t have to worry about the game because you already lost anyway. 

But here he is, in your messages, contradicting your worst fears. 

you who’s this?

Squealing, you throw your phone to the side, but within a few seconds, it lights up again with a new message. 

[phone] wild guess?

you my amazon package?

You snort as you watch him read it and begin typing. 

[phone] close. even better 

An unwarranted smile sneaks its way onto your face. 

you enlighten me

[phone] it’s your ex chemistry tutor from high school. that weird dude 

you weird dude is how you’re choosing to introduce yourself?

[phone] trying to be humble 

[phone] so about yesterday

Your hangover creeps back into your skull, your head pounding to the beat of a drum.

you we don’t need to talk about yesterday

[phone] why not?

you because i embarrassed myself?

[phone] you didn’t. thought it was cute

[phone] may have also told your best friend i needed your number in the name of saving you from your drought, so you’re not the one who embarrassed themselves 

Staring at the message, your alcohol-riddled brain struggles to make sense of the words in front of you. Heat spreads from your chest to your neck to your cheeks. The guilt tries to claw its way up—you don’t get to feel this giddy, not about him—but your body overrules it with a decisive vote. Your hangover is completely forgotten now, replaced by a warm flutter in your stomach that has nothing to do with last night's tequila.

It’s so unlike him, the polar opposite of what Jeon Jungkook used to evoke in you, but the mere thought of him ending your sex drought sends a tingle down your spine. 

You’re grinning like a foolish schoolgirl now, dignity be damned. You save his number to your contacts, makes it official in your brain. 

you are you offering to get me out of my drought? 

You fling your phone to the opposite side of the bed, and scream into your pillow. 

The buzz causes you to shoot back up, heart thumping in your throat as you read his response. 

jungkook possibly 

Somewhere in the sky, your guardian angel is doing backflips. 

Hands shaking, heart pumping blood erratically, you type back:

you take a girl to dinner first

The three dots pop up almost immediately, and then: 

jungkook tried that already. the girl ran away from me :/ 

Technically, he’s right. You did run away. And now he’s resorted to joking about it, like it doesn’t bother him. But it should bother him. Should annoy him that the girl who didn’t acknowledge his existence in high school is now playing games with him like she has any right to. 

You don’t know how to let him be nice to you, how to let him want you, when all you can remember is a younger you rolling your eyes while he patiently explained molecular bonds. You were cruel. Mostly in small ways that probably hurt more than massive shows of dismissiveness, but harsh nonetheless. 

Guilt sits burdensome in your chest, a thorn in your side. Deep down, you’re terrified that when he finally sees you clearly—really sees you, not the filtered version you're trying to present—he’ll realize what you already know. That you were never worth the wait.

Your fingers loom over the keyboard, twiddling. The guilt is there, always there, always a dark cloud hanging. You were cruel to him. Casual about it, even. Used him like a tool and never once considered that he was a person with feelings that could be hurt.

But maybe—and this is the thought that's been needling at you since the cafe—maybe the worst thing you could do now is waste his second chance on you by playing games. Maybe the cruelest thing would be pretending you don’t want this when you so obviously, desperately do.

On the one hand, honesty is terrifying and vulnerability makes you nauseous. 

But, on the other hand…

you well maybe the girl wants to see if you’re full of shit or not 

Your heart speeds up behind the confines of your ribs. 

jungkook i’m not the same guy from high school. i don’t play about what i want 

With bated breath, you type your response. It’s a question that you know the answer to, and you don’t know why you need him to say it, but he will anyway. 

you and what is it that you want?

jungkook you. 

The night of Huh Yunjin’s birthday creeps up slowly on you, amidst a week busied with work, adult errands, and most stupidly, thoughts of Jungkook. The thoughts of him play, pause, tape spooling, and then rewind on a constant loop, unrelenting in their nature. 

You hadn’t spoken to him much after your last exchange, minus some ‘good morning’ texts from him that you responded to politely. It’s foreplay, if nothing else, because even a few words from him are enough to leave you giddy for days to come. 

You fully intend to take him up on his offer, you just don’t know when. . 

Sinkhole is packed to the brim, sweaty bodies colliding in an attempt to feel human intimacy. A disco ball hangs loosely from the ceiling, transmitting silver light across the dance floor. The DJ is spinning up cringy Top 40 hits you haven’t heard since college, but the amount of soju shots you’ve consumed within the past hour masks the embarrassment you feel. 

“Cheers to my 28th!” Yunjin yells in your ear, raising her shot glass in the air. Jimin abandons making out with Taehyung in favor of lifting his shot glass with hers, and you can’t help but join in on the festivities. 

Yunjin keeps toasting to things that get progressively more unhinged. ‘To being 28! then ‘To my IUD!’ then ‘To tax evasion!’ 

You're not sure she's even joking on that last one. 

You’ve lost count of how many you’ve taken, but the liquor burns less with each passing shot. 

“Happy birthday, baby!” Jimin leans over the table you’re all perched at, pressing a chaste kiss to Yunjin’s cheek. She giggles in delight, smiling brightly in the way only a drunk person could. 

“Oh, why thank you, Jiminie,” she laughs. “And thank you, Tae and [Y/N] for buying the table!”

It was 75% Taehyung and 25% you, but you’ll accept her gratitude. Buying a table at the club with unlimited alcohol was also part of your master plan to get absolutely obliterated and halt all thoughts of Jungkook, at least for the night. 

“[Y/N], we need to find you a hot guy tonight. That dress is doing insane things to your legs,” Yunjin whines, pushing your shoulder. “There’s soooo many boys here.”

Jimin and Taehyung share a meaningful look, one that you don’t miss. Rolling your eyes, you say, “I’m not looking for anyone tonight. I want to spend it with you.”

“Booooring.” She pokes your side, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of Usher. “If you ditch me on my birthday to fuck a hot dude, I won’t be mad.”

“But I don’t want to fuck a hot dude—”

Jimin clears his throat. “Well, actually, you do. He’s just not here right now.”

There goes your vow to ignore all Jungkook thoughts this evening. 

“Jimin.”

“What? It’s true,” he giggles, cozying up into Taehyung’s side. “The guy practically sexted you last weekend.”

Feeling caught, you busy yourself with the hem of your black bodycon dress. “Whether I fuck him or not is nobody’s business but my own,” you mumble. 

“Oh, please,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You’ve been needing to get laid for months. We’re your best friends, which makes it our business.”

“She’s just upset that she ignored him in high school and now he’s this big, hunky guy,” Jimin snickers. 

Taehyung frowns. “Bigger than me?” 

“Okay, enough,” you snap, pouring more soju into the empty shot glasses. “I just wanna get drunk and enjoy my night.”

“I’m sure you would enjoy your night more if you had a big, sexy man to take care of you. I know I would,” Jimin chuckles. Not in a mean way, but your heart does sink a little as you watch him give Taehyung an open-mouthed kiss. 

Yunjin turns to you. “Why haven’t you fucked him?” 

You don’t know when this became an intervention, but everyone seems arduously interested on whether or not you fuck Jeon Jungkook. 

You shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t want to—trust me, I do—I just… feel a little bad about how I treated him in high school.”

Your friend snorts, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smile playing upon her lips. “If he felt bad about how you treated him, he wouldn’t be pursuing you.”

“She’s right,” Jimin jumps back in, and you fight the urge to slam his head into the table. He picks up a soju shot. “It’s kinda cute how desperate he seems for your attention. That’s a guy who’s gonna eat you out like his life depends on it.”

The mental image of his moist, plump lips wrapping around your clit has your thighs trembling under the table, but you clamp them before anyone can notice. 

“I’m gonna fuck him,” you promise. “I swear.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “I hope you do, before someone else snatches you up.” He tilts his head in the direction of a man eye-fucking you, and your stomach queases. 

“He’s cute,” Jimin takes his shot, and you follow suit. There’s no way you’re getting through this night without getting absolutely obliterated. 

“Oooo, there’s a really cute guy over there. 12:00,” Yunjin leans into the group, whispering as lowly as she can over the sound of Kesha. 

You refuse the desire to look. Taehyung, however, lets his eyes wander to who she’s talking about. Luckily, Jimin is too entranced by pouring himself another soju shot to care. “Oh fuck me. He’s fucking sexy. I would let that man give me a rimjob.” 

You slump into the chair. Somehow you have a feeling you’re about to undergo the world’s least subtle setup. 

Jimin’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his skull. Slowly, he angles his body to see who his boyfriend is talking about. “He can’t possibly be that hot—oh my god. Oh my god.”

“What?” you and Yunjin say in unison. If you had to guess, based on Jimin’s track record and the specific tone of that ‘oh my god,’ he’s either spotted a celebrity, a firefighter in uniform, or someone from his legendary whore phase. And given that you’re at a nightclub, you're betting on option three. Jimin’s whore phase is the stuff of legend—a six-month period during sophomore year where he worked his way through half of Seoul's gay club scene. He doesn't talk about it often, mostly because Taehyung gets a very specific look on his face when it comes up, but every once in a while someone from that era will resurface and Jimin will make that exact noise.

“Who is it?” you press on, heart thumping in excitement. 

Jimin’s blonde hair sways as he turns to look back at you. “Okay, don’t panic.” 

Furrowing your brows, you start, “Don’t—”

“That’s Jungkook, you idiots. The fucking guy from [Y/N]’s high school we’ve been talking about,” he says in a hushed tone, punching Taehyung’s shoulder. 

There’s a warm feeling hugging your chest, your body feeling as though it’s been lit on fire. It might be the alcohol, or the sheer joke of it all. Out of all the scenarios you’ve conjured up in your daydreams, this wasn’t one of them. 

You turn your body to track where your friend’s eyes were just a minute ago. Even though Jimin already confirmed it, there’s a tiny part of you hoping his eyes deceive him. But there he is, Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, talking to one of his equally attractive friends. He’s wearing all black—black t-shirt that sculpts his biceps, black baggy jeans that sit tightly on his slim waist. His hair is ruffled, hoop earrings dangling from the holes in his ear. And really, the most sickening part of it all: he has two lip rings instead of the usual one. You’re gonna be sick.

“Earth to [Y/N]...” Yunjin waves a shot in front of your face, and without preamble, you take it from her, swallowing it in one easy sip. The alcohol travels down your throat, but you barely feel the burn. 

“You good?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. 

“Just peachy,” you lie. You smile at your friends, but they don’t seem convinced. 

Jimin guffaws, leaning back in his chair with an evil grin. “Is that why you just downed another shot?”

“I’m thirsty.”

“For alcohol or for Jungkook?” Yunjin bursts into a fit of giggles, high-fiving Jimin across the table. 

Groaning, you let your head fall into your hands. “I hope all of you die a slow and painful death.”

“He’s gotten even hotter since the last time I saw him,” Jimin notes, sipping his untouched margarita. “How is that possible?”

“Can we please talk about anything else?” You reach for the soju bottle, pouring the last of the clear liquid into your glass. Your second in thirty seconds. A new personal record.

“We will do no such thing,” Jimin’s eyes are gleaming with elation. “You need to go talk to him.”

You nearly choke on the liquor. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Go. Talk. To. Him.” Jimin enunciates each word like you’re a toddler. 

“Are you insane?” you deadpan. “Like, actually stupid? Have you suffered a brain injury I don’t know about?”

Both Jimin and Taehyung share another unspoken look. “I’m trying to help you.” 

“But I don’t want help—”

“[Y/N].” Jimin doesn’t often get very serious, but the expression on his face makes you squirm. “I’m not letting you fuck this up.”

“I;m not fucking anything up by staying exactly where I am.” You cross your arms over your chest. Realistically, you know he’s right. If you were more drunk, maybe you would bite the bullet, march over there, and plant a kiss right on those lips you haven’t stopped thinking about. But you’re not, so at the table you will stay. 

“This is fate. This is the universe putting him a few feet away.” Jimin gestures vaguely at Jungkook. 

“The universe can fuck off, honestly.”

He sighs, “I’m doing this for your own good.”

And before you can process his movements, a lag in your brain, Jimin turns in his seat, arm raising in a wave, mouth opening to call out his name. 

“No!” You lunge across the table, knocking over Taehyung’s drink, causing him to groan. You latch onto Jimin’s arm, yanking it down forcefully. “Don’t you fucking dare, Park Jimin—”

It’s too late. 

Because in your desperate scramble to stop Jimin from committing social suicide on your behalf, you've made a scene. Swiveling your head slowly, you see Jungkook staring directly at you. 

His eyebrows are raised, a hint of a smirk playing upon his lips. His tattooed fingers toy with the straw in his drink. It feels as though time drags on for hours, as if the hands of a clock are being lugged through molasses. 

You slowly extract yourself from on top of the table, slinking into your chair with as much dignity as you can muster. Your hand comes up in the world’s most awkward, tentative wave. The tiniest flutter of your fingers. 

Jungkook’s lips stretch wider, raising his hand in return. It’s a proper wave, filled with that newfound confidence of his. Then he turns back to his friend, resuming their conversation. It’s not like you expected him to drop everything for you—or well, you kind of did.  You exhale a deep breath. “Oh my god.” You slump in your chair. “That was horrible.”

“That was… bad,” Jimin tiptoes around the word, twiddling his thumbs. 

“I’m going to have to fake my death and move to a different country—”

“Stop being a drama queen,” Yunjin cuts in, sliding a shot towards you. You don’t even know or care where it spawned from, but all you know is you need it. “He waved back. He probably thought it was cute.”

Sighing, you shake your head. “There is nothing cute about what just happened.” You down the shot, and you’ve completely lost count at this point of how many you’ve ingested. 

“Okay, new plan,” you announce, slamming the glass down. “None of that happened. We enjoy Yunjin’s birthday. We do not make eye contact with Jungkook, we do not speak about Jungkook.”

“Yeah, about that,” Jimin trails off, eyes glued to somewhere behind your shoulder. “It’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” 

“He’s coming over here.”

Your entire body halts all movement, rigid like a statue. “What?”

“He’s coming here. Right now,” Taehyung repeats, and your heart drops to your feet. A hornet’s nest of anxiety swarms your stomach, filling your body with buzzing fear. 

You shake your head frantically. “Please say you’re messing with me.”

Yunjin turns to see where Jimin and Taehyung are staring, and the moment she touches your arm, you realize you’re trapped. There’s no way out but through. 

“[Y/N]. It’s nice to see you here.” 

His voice is deeper, a low timbre that makes your brain go all fuzzy around the edges. He stands in front of the table, and you peer through your eyelashes to look up at him. 

Fuck. Fuck, he looks even better up close. 

The two lip rings catch the light of the disco ball. A silver chain dangles from around his neck and you briefly wonder what it’ll look like hanging over you while he pounds into…God, get a grip. You can catch a whiff of his cologne, something citrusy and woodsy that causes a pool of arousal in your underwear.

“Hi,” you manage a smile, struggling to hold the intense gaze he’s sporting. 

He breaks it for a moment, turning to your best friend, nodding. “Jimin, good to see you again.”

“You too, Kook. You should join us!” He scooches closer to Taehyung, patting the minimal space beside him. Jungkook stares at it, then looks back at you with a hunger in his eyes that almost has you keeling over. 

“Actually,” Jungkook begins, “I was hoping I could steal [Y/N] for a drink. If that’s okay with you all?”

He wants to... what? Steal you? For a drink? Alone? You turn to Yunjin, eyes pleading. Help me. Save me. Make up an excuse. But she was never going to let you escape where he’s involved. She looks you dead in the eye, smiles sweetly, and says, “No, she’s all yours.”

You’re going to remember this. You’re going to bring this up at every possible opportunity for the rest of her natural life.

Jungkook’s hand extends towards you, palm up, awaiting yours. For a brief second, you stare at it, at his long fingers, at the veins running down his forearm, at the silver rings stacked on his nimble fingers. The hand that's now being offered to you, in public, in front of all your friends.

You can either take his hand and let whatever this is happen, or you can make up some excuse and run away for the fourth time.

Your heart starts cartwheeling in your chest. You can’t look away from his hand, the one you desperately want to take. Jungkook watches patiently, confidently, like he knows just what you’re deciding between. 

Fuck it. 

You place your hand in his, let your fingers intertwine with his warm ones. It’s secure, and his fingers tighten around yours as if to remind you he has you. Jungkook pulls you to your feet gently. He doesn’t let go as he guides you through the crowd toward the bar, and you’re trying very hard not to think about how right it feels, how you never want him to let you go. 

He parks you at the bartop, where a woman who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else is serving alcohol to a group of minors. Jungkook pats the stool beside him, and you’re more than grateful to take the chair. Your heels have been hurting like a bitch all night. When you sink into the chair, his eyes follow the way your dress hugs your thighs, revealing more skin than your old cheer uniforms. You debate tugging it down, but a warm feeling is flooding your insides at the thought of him wanting to see more of you.  He towers above you, his AMEX hanging loosely from his deft fingers. 

“What do you like to drink?” He leans down, whispers it directly in your ear. The heat of his breath makes your entire body feel like molten lava. 

The bartender begins to make her way over, eyes gleaming when she spots Jungkook. If you were less tipsy, you might come up with a witty response, but your current state only allows you to say, “A dirty shirley, please.” 

He doesn’t make a face at the girly drink, nor bats an eyelash when the bartender touches his arm four times while he recites his order. You can only watch in awe as he hands over his card and turns his attention back to you, body angling toward you as if to shield you from every other patron who might be able to see you. The slight possessiveness he’s exhibiting would normally make you hurl, but he’s so unapologetic about it that you could care less. You hope he puts his mark on you so no man will ever speak to you again. 

Jungkook fiddles with his fingers on the counter, unsure where to put them. The only glimpse of high school Jungkook you’ve seen in days. His hand hovers near your thigh, then his jeans pocket, then back to the counter. For all his cockiness over text and possessiveness, still lies a man who’s intimidated by the thought of truly having you. 

The soju in your body hums through your veins, making everything feel hazy and like a really good idea. Liquid courage, Yunjin calls it. Liquid stupidity, sounds more precise. 

But right now… you’re thinking liquid courage might be onto something. 

Because he’s standing so close you can smell his cologne, something that smells like grapefruit and lemon. Because he angled his body to block out the rest of the bar like you’re the only person here. Because his hand is right there, inches from you, and looks like he wants to touch you so badly it’s causing him physical pain. 

And you’re tipsy enough to think: yeah, liquid courage is real. 

Before the sober, anxious part of your brain can intervene with a thousand reasons why this is a horrible idea, you reach out. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and his eyes snap to yours, surprise written across his features. 

You don’t utter a word, just simply guide his hand until his palm settles at the small of your back. Every place where his skin connects with yours seems to tingle. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low and chest rumbling with the sound. Again, his mouth is right by your ear, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, can't hear anything but him. 

“Would I have moved it there if I wasn’t?” 

His thumb strokes once against your side. “Just making sure.” 

“I’m tipsy, not drunk,” you clarify, only because you need him to know this is a choice. This is something you tried to talk yourself out of over and over again, but you want this. Liquid courage is making you brave enough to admit out loud what you only ever thought to yourself sober. “I know what I’m doing.” 

“And what are you doing?” His breath hits your cheek, the side of your mouth, and it’s laced with peppermint and whiskey, and you’re dizzy with need. 

“Giving you the green light,” you say, tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are hooded, trained on your lips that are coated in shiny gloss. “That okay with you?” 

His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you incrementally closer. He doesn’t need to say anything. 

“Very okay,” he murmurs into your hair. 

The bartender returns with your drinks, but Jungkook doesn’t move his hand. He takes your dirty shirley with his free hand, passing it off to you. His grip becomes more secure, more selfish, like now that you’ve given him permission, he’s never planning on letting go. 

Good, you think. You don’t want him to. 

Jungkook’s hand wraps around the glass of whiskey, taking a slow sip. “Seems like fate was on my side tonight.” 

You take a gulp of your dirty shirley, the sweetness coating your tongue. “I’m starting to think you might be stalking me.” 

His eyebrows raise, a tiny upward twitch in his mouth. “How do I know you’re not stalking me?” 

“Oh, you would know.”

“Really?” He leans in, brown eyes sparking like pools of chocolate. “And how’s that?” 

“Because I’d be better at it,” you proclaim, emboldened by the alcohol. “You wouldn’t catch me three times in two weeks. I’d have a whole system. Disguises, a wig collection..”

He laughs loudly. You notice that his dimples pop when he does so, eyes crinkling. “A wig collection.” 

“At minimum. Maybe some fake glasses and a trench coat.” 

“Clearly, you’ve thought about this,” he hums. 

You raise your hands in defense. “I’m just saying, if I were stalking you, you’d never know it unless I wanted you to know.” 

“Should I be concerned?” he questions, but he’s grinning. 

“Depends,” you tilt your head. “Are you worth stalking?” 

His fingers spread across the expanse of your spine. “I’d like to think so.” 

“Confident.” Another sip of your dirty shirley snakes down your throat, your lips toying with the straw as you peer up at him. 

His gaze never leaves yours. “Besides, you’re the one who guided my hand to your back. If anyone's being forward here…” 

That almost makes you choke on your sugary drink. “I was just—”

“Giving me the green light,” he finishes. “I remember. Trust me, I remember.” 

Your mind stumbles, then short-circuits. 

You resort to drinking more alcohol, needing something to do with your hands that’s not touching him. “This is crazy, right? Us, here?” 

“Crazy how?” 

“You know how. I mean, ten years ago, I was copying your chemistry homework, and now you’re so… you’re…”

There’s not a single English word that properly describes what present day Jeon Jungkook does to you, with his tattoos and lip rings and expensive cologne and platinum credit card and… fuck. 

“I’m what?” He leans closer, waiting, expecting. 

“This.” you say helplessly. “All of this.” 

“Is there something wrong with.” he uses his free hand to motion over his toned body, “this?”

“No. Nothing. That’s the problem.” It slips out before you can stop it. “It would be easier if something was wrong with it.” 

The hand not looped around your waist moves from the bartop to your dress, fingers finding the hem where it’s ridden up on your thigh. He plays with the fabric absentmindedly, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. “If no one’s told you, by the way,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear him over the music, “this dress looks insane on you.” 

The wind is knocked out of your chest, a jolt of electricity flashing through your core. “No one’s told me yet. You’re the first.” 

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are flirting with your dress, traveling up your body until they meet yours. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he says. “There. Now I'm the second to say it.” 

It’s hard to breathe, hard to swallow. Even harder to find words, or form a coherent sentence. 

“You—I—you can’t—”

“Can’t..?” His hands don’t dare move from your dress, knuckles occasionally brushing against your thigh. “Can’t tell you the truth?”

“You know what you’re doing, Jungkook.” 

“I do,” he agrees. “Is it working?” 

You want to lie. Want to play it cool. Want to maintain some semblance of the upper hand. 

But your downfall was inevitable, right from the moment you saw him standing in the cafe. Like a champagne bottle that someone shook a little too hard, a balloon pressed against a thumbtack. It was always meant to explode. 

“Yes,” you admit. 

“Good.” Both of his hands move to grip the side of your barstool. In one smooth movement, he turns you to face him completely. His legs spread, creating space, and he guides the stool forward with his toe until your thighs slot between his.  He’s caging you in, hands landing atop your thighs, palms warm against your bare skin. 

You’re practically pressed against him, his face level with yours, “Is this okay?” he asks again, fingers digging into the flesh. 

Suddenly, it’s like you’re painfully aware of all the places where he isn’t touching you. Your faces, your chests. You want more, need more. 

“Stop asking me that,” you mumble, looking away, but he guides your gaze back with a finger under your chin. 

“I need to know, princess.” His tone is serious, but you want to smile from the pet name. “Tell me if it’s too much.” 

“It’s not,” you whisper. “It’s not too much.” 

“No?”

“No.” 

His hands slide up your thighs, hiding underneath the fabric, pushing a boundary that hasn't been tested in a long time. “What about now?’ 

You’re going to combust. Right here, in the middle of  Sinkhole, surrounded by people, you're going to burst into flames.

“Still okay,” you exhale. 

For one exhilarating second, his eyes drop to your lips, and you think you’ll get what you’ve been seeing in your dreams the past few nights. You need to get out of here. Away from the crowd, away from the noise, somewhere you can actually hear yourself think—or not think. Preferably not think.

“Do you want to…” you start, then hesitate. The words die on your tongue. 

He cocks his head, hair flopping into his eyes. “Do I want to…” 

Your heartbeat reverberates in your throat. “Talk somewhere more private? It’s loud here.” 

His composure shifts, and you watch the realization hit him. What you're suggesting. What that implies.

“Private,” he repeats. “To talk.” 

“Yes.” 

“About?” 

You deadpan, brain racking for a subject, any subject. “Stuff,” is what you come up with.

A dry laugh escapes him. “And maybe things as well?” 

You pout. “Important stuff.” 

“I’m sure.” His smile is lopsided, goofy and full of light.  He pulls you up from the barstool until your feet touch the ground again. His hand finds your fingers, easily lacing them. “Whatever you want, princess.” 

Where the fuck did that come from? When did he become the type of person to use pet names? And why is it working? Why is that single word making your entire nervous system light up like a Christmas tree?

Tugging you through the crowd, he peers behind him every few seconds to make sure you haven’t floated away. His hand is firm around yours, guiding you through the mass of bodies, and you try and catch a glimpse of any of your friends. 

Unfortunately, you do spot Jimin and Taehyung, pressed against a wall, entranced in a makeout session so intense that they’re definitely not coming up for air soon. At least you won’t have to explain to them where you went. Yunjin is nowhere to be found, probably on the dance floor or already home with one of her many flings. 

Jungkook pulls you through another section of the crowd, leading you down a side hallway that’s mercifully empty. The music is muffled, bass still thumping through the walls but not deafening anymore. You lean back against the cold concrete, the chill a shock against your overheated skin. The wall vibrates with each bass drop, humming in your chest. 

Jungkook stops in front of you, and you have to tilt your head back to see his face. “What did you want to talk about?”  

Your mind shoots blanks. In this dim hallway, you’ve become aware of how completely the tables have turned. Ten years ago, you held all the cards. You were the girl who made him nervous, who had him stumbling over words, who could get him to do anything with a smile and a flutter of your eyelashes. But now you’re the one who’s heart is racing, who feels like you might explode from a single touch. He has the upper hand, utterly, entirely. And you handed it to him willingly. Put his hand on your waist, guided him here, and now you’re putty in his hands and he knows it. 

“You make me nervous,” you blurt out. 

The silence that engulfs you feels like punishment. Your mouth goes dry, palms sweating under the guise of his stare. 

He takes a step closer. There’s little to no space between you. “That’s interesting.” 

“Why is that interesting?” Your back is pressed against the wall. Nowhere to go. 

“You used to make me nervous,” he says, bracing his hand on the wall. His bicep strains and you have to fight the urge to ogle at them. “For years.” 

“That was different, Jungkook.” 

“Was it?” He studies you. “In what way?” 

“Well, because now you’re you, and I’m—“

“I’m me?” His eyebrows raise an inch, lips curling upwards in a smirk. “What does that mean?” 

Why did you drink so much alcohol? Why, why, why? Maybe if you hadn’t, your lips wouldn’t be so goddamn loose. Your filter would still be in tact. You wouldn’t be staring at him like you want to devour him whole. 

You peer up at him, eyelashes fluttering. His cheeks are flushed from the amount of drinks he’s consumed, and he’s close enough that you can see the moles that litter his face. The one under his lip. The one on his nose. You want to kiss each and every single one of them. Map them out with your lips until you have them memorized. 

You give up on any pretense of playing it cool. “You know you’re hot, Jungkook.” 

“Do I know?” The smirk on his face grows tenfold, and god, you want to kiss it off him. “You’ve never told me this before.” 

“High school was different.” 

“You’ve said that a lot, but it’s actually not that different,” he murmurs. 

“Hm?”

His gaze drops to your lips for the hundredth time tonight. “Because I’m still so fucking unbelievably, out of my mind, attracted to you.”

Your brain struggles to process it—that he’s felt this way for years. That it never went away. That all the confidence and cockiness is built on top of the same desire that made teenage Jungkook stutter around you.

“You’re just saying things,” you whisper. But you’ve known. You’ve always known. 

His hand falls from the wall to cup your jaw. “You think I begged Jimin for your number because I was just being polite? You think I showed up at three different cafes hoping fate would bring us together because I’m casual about this?”

“But you said that cafe was your regular spot—”

He fights to hide the smile creeping onto his face. “I’ve wanted you since I was a teenager.” His thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “Somehow, impossibly, I want you even more now.” 

Your heart is trying to break out of the confines of your ribcage. “Jungkook.” 

His forehead is almost touching yours. “What’s different is that now I’m not terrified to tell you.”

You don’t know what else to say to him, so you smile as brightly as you can, letting your happiness live on your face. 

“How many drinks have you had tonight?” he asks. 

You scrunch your brows together. “A lot of soju. That dirty shirley. Why?” 

Bluntly, he says, “Because I want to kiss you. But not if you’re too drunk to remember it tomorrow.” 

You squeak, back slightly arching off the wall. You’ve never wanted anything more, never ached to feel someone the way you do him. Heat travels through your veins, burning you to your core. 

“I told you, I’m tipsy,” you rush to protest. “I’ll remember this tomorrow.” 

It should be embarrassing how quickly you reassure him, how the words tumble out of your mouth. 

His forehead presses against yours, and it’s a miracle you don’t dissolve into a puddle. “Then can I—”

“Yes,” you interrupt. If he doesn’t kiss you in the next five seconds, you might actually die. 

“I didn’t finish the question.” His lips ghost over yours, a gentle taste of what you yearn for. 

“I don’t care what the question is,” you exhale. “The answer is yes.” 

And then his lips are on yours. 

Never in your high school years did you imagine how Jeon Jungkook kissed. Never thought about how his lips would feel against your own. Never cared to think about it. 

This past week, however, you’ve spent more time imagining this exact scenario than you’ve spent breathing. But reality is superior to whatever your brain could conjure up. Your imagination could never describe Jungkook’s demanding kiss, or the way his lips melt into yours with utmost certainty. His hand slides from your jaw to your cheek, cradling it. The other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

A mix of a gasp and a moan falls from your lips, and he swallows it wholly. Your fists find his shirt, tugging on the fabric, pulling him closer even though there’s no space between you. His lip rings are cold against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his lips and the heat between your thighs. Parting your lips, his tongue sweeps in, tastes just like you smelled earlier—whiskey and peppermint. Your lip gloss is definitely everywhere at this point—on him, on you, probably on the wall behind you—but you couldn’t care less.

His strong hand travels from your cheek down, down, fingers wrapping loosely around your throat. Claiming, holding. The possessiveness of the gesture sends heat pooling low into your stomach. Jungkook’s thumb presses into your pulse point, feeling how your heart is racing. 

And when you do finally pull away, your heart is still going berzerk. His lips are shiny with your gloss, pink and swollen and thoroughly kissed. You can't help but giggle at the sight. 

“What?” he asks, breathless. The tips of his ears are tickled pink.

“You’re wearing my lip gloss,” you giggle again, reaching up to wipe it with your thumb. But he doesn’t let you get far, catches your wrist and presses a kiss right where your flowery perfume is sprayed. He takes a deep inhale and smiles back at you like you hung the moon and stars. Your heart is pumping so wildly you’re worried it might actually burst out of your chest.

Then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your exposed collarbone, finding every sensitive spot with ease like he already knows you, like he holds the map to your body. He holds you tight to him, grounding—and thank god because your legs are shaking so badly that you're not sure you could stand without him holding you up.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, and he hums against your skin. His mouth finds your jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to pass out. Your fingers thread through his unruly dark brown locks, tugging slightly at the nape. 

And you can’t really help the intrusive thoughts that leap in your mind, the tidal wave of desire that keeps lapping at your core. He’s insatiable, and you feel gluttonous. “Do you wanna—” you start, but his teeth graze your pulse point and your brain turns to mush. “maybe—ahh—go to mine?”

He halts, pulls back enough to look at you. “Is that what you want?” His voice is strained, the thread of self-control growing weaker and weaker. 

Your brain is fuzzy from alcohol and kissing and the feeling of his hands on your waist, but you know what you're saying. You know what you're offering. You’re done fighting whatever decade-old guilt lives inside you, because you deserve him. Maybe you’re finally ready to accept it. To trust that you’ve grown, that you’re growing, that you’re not done growing and thats okay. You deserve all the good that Jeon Jungkook has to offer. “Yes,” you breathe, “I want—I want you.”

His eyes search for hesitation. “You’ve been drinking, and I don't want you to feel like you need to—”

“I’m sure.” Cupping his face in your hands, you cut his sentence in half. Don’t even let it slip between you. “I know what I want.”

Somehow, his eyes have gone darker, fingers tightening for purchase. “Say it again,” he murmurs. 

“I want you, Jungkook.” Your thumb brushes against his bottom lip, catching on his lip rings. “Take me home.”

“Fucking hell,” he practically moans, and then his lips are on you again with an urgency that wasn’t there before. “We should probably tell your friends we’re leaving.”

“Jimin’s busy.” If you had to guess, he’s on his knees at home, getting topped by Kim Taehyung. “And Yunjin will understand. Your friends?”

“They know who you are.”

A swarm of butterflies kick up in your stomach. 

You tug on his shirt. “Now can we please go before I lose my mind?” 

His answer to that is another quick kiss—but still thorough, because who is he if not a man starved—and he pulls you through the hallway, back into the club, into the thick of the chaos still lingering this late in the night. You hardly register any of it. The lights, the bass of the music, the bodies pressing against you as you squeeze by. None of it matters. 

You feel like you’re floating, like your feet are moving but you can’t feel the ground, like you’re walking on clouds. His hand is wrapped around yours, pulling you forward, and you’d follow him anywhere right now. To the ends of the earth. Off a cliff. 

Once the crisp night air hits your skin, Jungkook is already scanning the street, hand raised to hail a taxi. One pulls up within seconds—it’s got to be fate, or the universe supporting your agenda to get laid—and he opens the door, ushering you inside with a hand on the small of your back. 

Jungkook shuts the door forcefully, immediately snuggling into your side, leaving little to no room for you to create space between you two. Not that you wanted to, but you want to giggle at how utterly fearful he seems of distance from you. 

“Where to?” the driver asks, eyeing Jungkook in the rearview. 

You rattle off your address, and the cab pulls off into traffic. Seoul at this hour is never quiet—in fact, it’s usually more lively, since clubs stay open until the wee hours of the morning. But all you can really focus on is Jungkook beside you, his thigh pressed against yours in the cramped backseat. His fingers lace through yours. An innocent, sweet gesture, a complete contrast from what was happening ten minutes ago against that hallway wall.  

You look down at your intertwined hands—his so much larger than yours, rings cool against your skin. A smile bestows upon your lips. When you glance up at him, he’s staring at you with this fond expression that makes your heart stutter.

“What?” you ask, giddy. 

“Nothing,” he replies, but the smile on his face doesn’t disappear. “I just can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Me neither,” you admit sheepishly. 

His hand reaches over, tugging the hem of your dress down where it’s ridden up your thigh. The action would be chivalrous, if not for the way his fingers linger, if not for the way his jaw clenches, if not for the way his fond expression darkens into something sinister. 

“You need to stop moving,” he says, a deep exhale following his words. 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not even moving.”

“Your… dress is moving.” His hand remains on your thigh, holding the fabric down. “I can’t hold it together if this dress rides up any more.” 

“Oh.” 

He shifts in his jeans, clearly uncomfortable. You have to fight not to avert your eyes to his crotch. 

“Do you know how long it’ll take to get to her apartment?” Jungkook asks the driver. You snort loudly. 

He shrugs. Clearly, the man has never shared Jungkook’s predicament, because he looks unbothered by the urgency in his voice. “About twenty minutes.” 

Jungkook groans, leaning back into the seat, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them again and catches your gaze, he has to close them to calm his friend down there. And it does make you giggle again, but what you want more than anything is to feel him. For him to give you a part of him that you didn’t know you needed until now. 

You whisper in his ear. “I don’t want you to hold it together.”

His eyes fly open, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Don’t tempt me right now, [Y/N].”

“Why not?” And you pull out your tricks—you bat your eyelashes, tilt your head down, lick your lips to wet them. His face grows pale. 

“Because we’re in a cab,” he murmurs, staring at your lips. “And I’m trying to be respectful.”

“Maybe I want you to disrespect me right now.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before he's kissing you again. His hand leaves your dress to cup your face, angling your head so he can kiss you deeper. 

The cab driver clears his throat. You both ignore him, too hypnotized by the other to think about stopping. He pulls you as close as he can, and a frustrated noise escapes from your lips. There’s too many layers, too much distance, and he smiles knowingly against your lips. 

He seems to know just what you need. 

Jungkook’s large hand lands on your knee, caressing the supple skin. 

“You know how to be quiet, baby?” 

You nod meekly. 

His voice brushes against the shell of your ear, hand traveling up your thigh to mask itself under the fabric of your dress.  “Good girl. Spread your legs for me.”

Eyes widening, you stare up at him blankly. There is no way on this planet, Jeon Jungkook, the man who you were sure—up until now—never had his first kiss, is about to finger you in a taxi. But his hand moving near your lace panties says otherwise. You jolt forward at the feeling of his deft fingers swiping at the fabric as discreetly as possible. You gasp, and he tosses you a look before you slap your hand over your mouth. Luckily, the taxi driver seems more focused on the fastest route to your apartment than whatever debauchery is occurring in his backseat. It’s also dark in the car, impossible for the naked eye to see Jungkook’s movements. 

He presses against the wet spot on your underwear, and heat creeps up your neck at the realization of just how turned on he’s had you since the hallway. Maybe even before then, if you’re being honest. He smiles at the revelation. 

Your nails dig into the leather seat of the cab. Jungkook’s tattooed fingers push aside your underwear, his pointer finger collecting the arousal. A whimper escapes you, and when you look at him, the look on his face sends another round of wetness dripping down his finger. “God, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he whispers into your ear, letting two fingers ghost over your clit, gently pushing the bundle of nerves. “Didn’t know public sex turned you on so much.” 

You bite back a moan. The teasing pace he’s set over your clit would be fun, if you had a constant stream of sexual endeavors, but unfortunately, you’re as desperate as a raccoon sifting through trash. Gripping onto his wrist, you push him onto you fiercely. “Needy, aren’t we?” he mutters. 

All you can reply with is a quick nod. He chuckles softly, rubbing circles on your clit with the pad of his pointer and middle finger. Your head falls back on the headrest, eyes squeezed tight, tight, tight as you try to calculate how he found your clit so fast. It’s so wet, dripping onto the seat, his hands, that you could cum just from the stimulation of it all. 

“What do you want, princess? Hm?” Somehow, it sounds like he’s far away from you, like you’re caught on your own cloud of bliss. You want to ask for more, need more like it’s oxygen. His rhythm slows just a tad, enough to have your eyes flying open. “I asked you a question.”

Oh. Oh. So he’s that kind of guy. 

“I want—I want your fingers,” you whisper feebly. 

“Yeah? Where, princess? I’ll give you whatever you want.” he kisses your shoulder, your jaw, and it makes your brain fuzzy around the edges. 

The tantalizing pace he’s set on your clit makes it hard to speak. “W-want you to fuck me with them.”

His lips curl upwards, eyes blazing. “You like my fingers?” Another nod. He removes his fingers from your clit, slipping back out underneath your dress. You’re about to protest, maybe even kick him out of the car, until you watch him make direct eye contact with you, and place his fingers in his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around the digits. You blink. What the actual fuck have you gotten yourself into?

“Please, Jungkook,” you beg, your nails scrambling to dig in his clothed thigh. He chastises you, laughs at you, before slithering under your dress again, plunging his fingers directly into your sopping entrance. You gasp, loud enough to make the driver look in the rearview, but you bite your bottom lip before any more can escape. “I know you can take it. If you can take that douchebag Kim Mingyu, you can handle me. Although, after I’m done with you, my name might be the only name you moan for the rest of your life.” 

You should hate that. You really, really should. But clearly, your dignity has taken the night off, and in its place is a woman who is so endeared over being degraded by Jeon Jungkook. 

His fingers pump in and out, achingly slow, making you feel every inch. You’re gripping his thigh so tightly you swear there’ll be claw marks. Your head rests on the back of your seat, chest heaving. If not for the sound of traffic outside, the driver might be able to hear the way your pussy squelches with each movement. 

Jungkook’s lips press against your jaw, litter around your neck. “More,” you mumble, sounding drunker than you did in the club. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet. I can’t wait to be inside you. Gonna fuck you all night.” Lewd words continue to spill from his lips. Sending waves of arousal onto his fingers, more for him to play with as he picks up his pace. He curls his fingers upwards, reaching that sensitive spot that far and few men have ever found. Your body trembles, thighs shaking, and Jungkook’s hand lands on them to try and steady you. 

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing sloppy circles as he brings you to the brink of your orgasm. Your eyes fight to stay open, looking over at Jungkook—and holy hell. His arm veins are popping out, mostly from the amount of effort he’s putting into fucking into you to completion, his dark hair flopping over his face. His silver chain bounces off his chest, reflecting on the city lights outside. 

And you don’t even realize how quickly you’re about to cum, tears brimming your eyes from the way his fingers pump in and out you wildly, thumb matching his pace over your clit. “So tight around my fingers, princess. You gonna cum?” 

There’s no way you can be quiet about this. Not with how fucking good he looks, not with how easily his fingers slip in and out you, hitting your sweet spot. You bury your head in his neck, moaning into his warm skin, trying to muffle the sound as much as possible. “Fuck, Jungkook.” 

“Want you to cum on my fingers, princess. Can you do that for me?” You nod into his neck. 

Your walls clench around his fingers one last time, to the point where he can hardly move them, his thumb working you through the orgasm that ripples through your body. Your fingers claw at his arm, teeth biting at his neck. You can feel yourself lose control, heart beating erratically in your chest. 

Jungkook’s fingers halt inside you, thumb coaxing you through the rest of your orgasm. “It’s okay, princess. I’ve got you.” 

Your body completely slumps into him, still feeling full with his two fingers inside you. 

Finally, after he allows you a moment to catch your breath, he pulls them out of your pussy, soaked with your creamy arousal. “Open,” he says gently, but when you look up at him, his gaze is hardly sympathetic. Your lips part for him, and he places his fingers on your tongue. You swirl it around, tasting yourself, sweet and salty and warm, foreign to you. Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours. 

“Good job, baby,” he says as he removes his fingers, pressing one, two chaste kisses on your lips. 

All things considered, you’re in absolute shock. Somewhere between high school and now, Jeon Jungkook learned how to kiss like he’s trying to ruin you for all other men. Where did he learn all this? Who taught him to do that thing with his fingers? How does he know exactly where to put his hands, exactly how much pressure to use to make you lose your mind?

The thought of him practicing on other people—other girls—makes something ugly twist in your stomach. 

You’re an evil, evil girl. “Where’d you learn all that?” 

He raises an eyebrow, tucking a strand of your loose hair behind your ear. “Are you asking about my sexual history now?” 

“No.”

“You are,” he teases. “You’re not jealous, right?”

If only he knew how ill you felt at the idea of another girl knowing how his fingers can easily find their g-spot. 

“I am not jealous.” You feign indifference, but your voice comes out all defensive and petulant, which kind of ruins it all. “Just asking a question.” 

“You want to know who I've been with?” he asks, clearly trying not to laugh. 

“Never said that.” 

He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “There’s been other people. I’m not going to lie about that. But that’s not a big deal.” 

You furrow your brows. “Why?” 

His thumb traces circles on your thigh. “Because I thought about you during all of it. I wondered what you’d feel like, wondered what sounds you would make. So, yeah,” he continues. “I learned some things. But I only ever wanted to use them on you.” 

You kiss him again because you don’t know what else to do with the feeling expanding in your chest. Because he’s looking at you like that and saying things like that and your heart is fluttering out of your body. God, if that doesn’t make you want to drag him upstairs immediately.

The cab pulls up to your building and Jungkook is already pulling out his wallet, throwing bills at the driver without checking the amount. "Keep the change," he says, and then he's out of the cab, pulling you with him.

Your legs are unsteady when you stand—from the alcohol, from the kissing, from everything—and his arm wraps around your waist, steadying you. “I’m not done with you yet, princess.” 

And, really, he’s not joking because he’s on you the second you step through the door to your apartment. Barely even crosses the threshold before his lips are colliding with yours passionately, slamming your spine into the wall by your entryway. His hands cup your cheeks entirely. He can’t get enough of you, like opposite poles of a magnet attracting. Shortly after his affair with the entryway, Jungkook moves a little more down your hallway, but you’re too focused on kissing him to direct him. Your shoes are discarded, purse on the floor, and then your back finds another cool wall to rest against. 

Jungkook assaults your neck, leaving a trail of bruises that are going to take a hell of a lot of explaining tomorrow. Your apartment probably sounds like the set of some cheap porno, what with Jungkook’s whimpers and your moans, and neither of you are even naked yet. Your hands run over the front of his chest, feeling his sculpted body underneath his shirt. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your collarbone, where he’s leaving hickeys in his wake. His hands wander over your chest, cupping them over your dress. Without another word or warning, he yanks down the top of your dress, your breasts spilling out. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you as he manhandles you, his lips coming to wrap around your hardened nipple. His tongue swipes over the sensitive nub, eyes peering up expectantly, watching every facial expression that contorts on your face. 

Your eyes squeeze tightly, a kaleidoscope of color blooming behind your vision. “Jungkook,” you moan, carding your fingers through his unruly hair. 

Without preamble, Jungkook kisses your nipples one last time before dropping to his knees on your hardwood floor with a resounding thump. 

You open your eyes. The sight in front of you is fucking ungodly. If you look closely, you can see Jungkook from high school, expectantly looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, pushing your dress up to hang around your waist. 

“W-what are you doing?’ you ask. 

He looks drunk. “Need to eat you out. I want to taste you, princess.”

You don’t remember the last time a man has looked so needy to feel you, to taste you. Actually, you can’t remember a time this even occurred. 

You exhale. “Yes. Yes, please.” 

That’s all he really needs. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment more in burying his face between your folds as though it’s his last meal on earth. His fingers come to spread your lips open for him as he flicks his tongue over your nub, sending you bent over as you scramble for purchase in his hair, his shoulders, anything. “Oh, fuck, Jungkook, right there.” 

He notices your struggle to stand upright, and then he’s guiding your leg over his shoulder, toes dangling. He moans into your pussy, a breathy little exhale that sends fire shooting through your veins. Jungkook’s strong arm holds your leg in place over his shoulder. His tongue fucks inside of you shallowly, your eyes rolling backwards. “Tastes so sweet, so fucking heavenly, baby,” he mutters but it barely makes its way into your ears. You can feel his lip rings swiping over your arousal, the cool metal causing your thighs to quake uncontrollably. 

And then you’re just babbling profanities, a mantra of his name, curse words. A litany of praise. Some other embarrassing things you hope he never remembers. 

“I feel g-guilty. For the way I treated y-you in high school,” you stammer, quivering against his face as he licks another stripe up your slit. 

You don’t know why it’s all coming out now, but it is. God, you were such a bitch in high school. Such an egotistical brat who was too caught in her own ways to ever see that there was more to life than social status and cheerleading. 

His tongue encircles your clit, one of your hands flying to his hair to tug. “Don’t feel guilty,” he murmurs. “That’s not what I want you to feel right now. I want to make you feel good.” 

His tongue travels from your hole to your clit, and normally the rhythm would throw you off, but he’s so skillful about the whole thing that you’re teetering on the brink of an orgasm. And he must know, must be able to read your body like it’s something he spent years studying, because he’s sucking on your clit, letting his tongue flick over it repeatedly, maintaining a rhythm that has you screaming, “Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m gonna—Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” 

That doesn’t deter him the slightest. Spurs him on like he’s entered in some kind of pussy-eating competition. You’ll spend years talking about this experience, you think. 

Your fingers tighten in his hair, tangling, tugging, and your entire body vibrates as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. He fucks you through it, keeps going until you’re pushing him away with your toe forcefully. When he finally gives up, he says from between your legs, “Better than Kim Mingyu?” 

Maybe you shouldn’t care about high school anymore, but you can’t help but laugh, smile at him. “He never even ate me out, Koo.” 

His face softens— whether that’s because of the nickname you adorned him with or the fact that Mingyu was an asshole, you’ll never know—and he’s standing up, pressing a dirty kiss to your lips. It’s messy, sloppy, tongue over teeth, but so undeniably him that you cling to him like a koala. “He’s the biggest idiot of all time to miss out on that.” 

“Hmm,” you hum against his lips. They taste just like you, and it sends another gush of arousal pouring out of you. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist, your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. You’re drowning in him—his taste, his smell, the way he’s kissing you like he’s been starving for it. You can feel his length poking against your thigh, and your heart skips at just how large it al;ready feels through his jeans. 

Your hands roam down his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath his shirt, tracing lower until your fingers find his belt. You fumble with the buckle, fingers clumsy with desire. Jungkook looks down at your manicured fingers, easily working, speaking to how much experience you have. His cock throbs at the thought. 

You’re about to get on your knees, return the favor, but he stops you as soon as you lower an inch. 

Jungkook simply says, “The next time I want you to cum, is going to be on my cock.” 

Okay, yes sir. He’s all dominating and commanding and it makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

His forehead drops against yours, breath punching out of him. “Fuck, I need to be inside you.” 

The metal clinks as his pants drop to the floor, his Calvin Klein boxers doing little to hide how big he is. Jungkook kicks them off, eager to remove as many layers as possible. Your mouth salivates, and you’re positive a sliver of drool is slithering out of your mouth. His hands tighten on your hips, bruising the skin. 

You kiss him again, but this time, it’s rougher, faster, hand slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers, and he makes a sound between a groan and a whimper that makes you feel powerful.  Your hands roam, searching, until—

Holy shit. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his length. He’s big, no doubt about that. But it’s the fucking girth of it that has your mouth watering. He’s thick, and you can feel the veins that decorate his cock. 

Jesus Christ. This is what your Chemistry tutor was hiding under his pants. A fucking anaconda. 

But you’re not about to admit that. 

No shot in hell. 

“Mhmm, I feel like you’re kinda small,” you tease, battling your eyelashes at him as you stroke his hardened length dangerously slow. 

His nostrils flare. “Yeah? Think I’m small, baby?” 

“Tiny.”

Your thumb drags over his tip, and then you feel it. A piece of metal. Jeon Jungkook has a fucking dick piercing. 

His eyes set ablaze as he realizes that you know. “Fucking hell, you’re still the same brat you’ve always been.”

Jungkook’s lips collide with yours, and he kicks off his boxers urgently. “Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth. Suddenly his hands are gripping the backs of your thighs, lifting you up like you weigh nothing. You gasp, legs wrapping around his waist as your back hits the wall harder. The new position puts you at eye level with him, head spinning. He reaches down between your bodies to let his cock sit in between your wet folds, ever so teasing. 

Your fingernails dig into the nape of his neck, head lolling back against the wall. “Please fuck me, Koo. Wanna feel you inside me.”

“Oh, now you want to beg? After you called me tiny?” He hisses as he swirls the tip over your clit, the cool metal of his piercing sending shockwaves down your spine. 

“Please,” you beg. “Pleasepleaseplease.” It’s slurred when it leaves your mouth, breath catching when you look down and see the way the metal reflects off his soaking tip, encased in your juices. “I need it.” 

With that, he pushes into you, all inches of his length, squirming in his arms. You scramble to hold onto something, opting for his biceps that are straining with the weight of holding you up. A moan leaves both of your mouths. He waits until you’re fully adjusted, taking every inch of him. “Feels so good, princess. So tight and warm, holy shit.” 

“Jungkook,” you pant. You’re so full of him, he’s everywhere. Stopping is the last thing on your mind. You’re a woman made of greed. “You’re so—fuck—big.” 

He smiles triumphantly and takes that as his sign to move. He uses his arms to slide you up and down his cock, slamming you onto him, your clit meeting his pubic bone. The piercing drags against your walls with each thrust, hitting the sweet spot inside you that has you screaming a litany of crude words that’ll have your neighbors knocking your door down tomorrow morning. His head falls to the crook of your shoulder, burying himself in your scent. 

It’s more than you’ve ever taken, beyond any sex you’ve ever had in your life. You’re going to be ruined for all other men and you haven’t even made it to the bedroom yet. Your past lovers are about to become a footnote. A distant memory. Ancient fucking history.

The sound of your pussy squelching with each rough thrust fills the room, Jungkook’s hairline beading with sweat as he furiously pounds into you, tits bouncing in his face. He begins to babble, “Used to cum so hard thinking about you, baby. You in that—fuck—cheer uniform, with your nipples hard. I wanted to push it to the side and fuck you.”

You moan at the thought. “Yeah, why didn’t you? I would’ve rode your face with your glasses on.” 

He presses a sloppy kiss on the side of your mouth. “Bet you would’ve loved that, huh? Deflowering the nerd?”

The mental image flashes through your mind—seventeen-year-old Jungkook, all awkward limbs and nervous stammering, those thick-framed glasses sliding down his nose while you sat on his face in the library after hours. You would’ve been so mean about it too. Would’ve made him beg, would’ve had him so desperate and eager to please that he would’ve done anything you asked. Would’ve probably given him the best night of his teenage life and then ignored him in the hallway the next day because you were dating Mingyu and had a reputation to maintain.

“I would’ve made you cum—ahh, shit—so hard.” You try your hardest to maintain eye contact, but everytime you do, your walls flutter around his cock. “You would’ve been obsessed.”

“I was already obsessed,” he groans, nipping at your jaw. His balls slap against your ass, adding to the horrific amount of sounds eliciting from your apartment. “It couldn’t have gotten much worse.”

He has a very fair point. 

You thread your fingers through his hair, already on the brink of another orgasm. Everything about him—his scent, the way his tattoos glisten with sweat, how his bottom lip is tugged underneath his front teeth—sends your mind into delirium. He’s fucking you with enough force to have your head bouncing off the wall every few thrusts, that you feel it resound along your bones. 

“Fuck, I don’t wanna cum yet,” he whimpers into your skin. “But god, I don’t think I’ll be able to last.”

Neither will you, but an idea sparks in your pretty little head. You crook a finger under his jaw, making him look at you. His expression is completely fucked out, lips swollen, cheeks ruddy. His thrusts slow, enough so that he can pay attention to your words. “I want to get on top. Let me fuck you, Jungkook.” 

He nods, and then he’s readjusting you in his arms, with you clinging to him like a newborn baby. You giggle as he frantically tries to find your bedroom, pausing every few moments to press a few kisses to your cheeks and lips. 

Finally, he locates your room, plopping you down on the bed, and you moan at the sudden emptiness you feel with his cock gone. He tosses his t-shirt over his head. 

Jungkook sits up against the headboard, gently stroking his length as he watches you move to bracket his thighs, settling over his tip. “Ready for me, princess?” 

Eagerly, you shake your head in approval, and you sink down inch by inch onto his length. For some reason, in this position, it feels like he’s stretching you out more, your walls sucking him in greedily. Your hands come to rest on his beefy chest, nails digging into the skin. 

There’s not many things you're good at, but one thing you are insanely talented at? Riding cock like it’s your god given right. Your hips undulate wildly, bouncing up and down to accommodate his full length. Jungkook watches in awe, in a trance, as you cream his cock. His hands come to sit at your hips, guiding you the best he can. His head rests against the headboard, lazily watching as you play with your tits. “Ride my cock,” he groans, “just like that, princess.”  

“You stretch me out so good, Jungkook,” you moan, thighs trembling with each movement. He can feel you getting closer to the edge, already riled up from the previous position. Your walls clench around him, sucking him in. His thumb falls to your clit again, finding it so easily after so many rounds. “Right there, baby,” you chant, eyes closed. “Right fucking there.”

“Jesus, I'm so close,” he grunts, beginning to thrust upwards into you as your own pace slows. The sounds are beyond obscene—his cock plunging into your wetness, headboard slamming against the wall. You don’t care about any of it, not one bit, as long he keeps fucking into you. 

It was always obvious from the moment he kissed you at the club that neither of you were going to last long, anyway. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you practically scream, which would have you embarrassed, but he seems just as ruined as you. 

Your orgasm washes over you, legs shaking as your mouth tears open around a sound that might be his name, might be something else entirely. Your walls flutter around him, and Jungkook can’t help himself anymore. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too. Can I—fuck—can I cum inside?” 

You nod like a broken bobblehead. Thank god for modern medicine. 

He empties into you, bruising your hips with his hold. He’s so attractive when he finishes that you almost orgasm again from the sight. His bare chest heaves, a slight sheen of sweat layered on the skin. 

For a few moments, you two catch your breath, letting his cock soften entirely inside you. He looks worn, eyes drooping. 

But after an eternity, you finally roll off him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in terms of aftercare, but your heart flutters when he lazily wraps his arms around you, tugging you into his side to rest your cheek on his chest. It’s comforting, with his hands playing with your hair, his own heart thumping along in his chest. Reminding you that you’re here with him, and this is real. 

Silence has never been so peaceful. 

You think you’ll fall asleep like this, but then he says, “I want to see you again.” 

Your heart softens around the edges, at the notion that he believes you’ll never speak to him again after this. You can’t blame him for it. It’s exactly what high school you would’ve done. 

But you’re not 17 anymore, and you deserve all the good he has to offer you. No more silly little games. 

“I would really like that,” you whisper back. 

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Mind checking your calendar for me?” 

You grin like a lovesick idiot. “Yup. Checking right now. And it looks like I’m free this whole week.” 

“Thursday, then. Dinner at 7,” he confirms. “You’re not going to, like, make me beg for a real answer this time, are you?”

Giggling, you respond, “Maybe I should check that calendar again…”

He sits up, pouting. “Don’t. Don’t you dare,” he warns, and then his hands are moving to tickle your sides. 

You squeal, squirming away, but he just pulls you back against him. The laughs that escape you are so full of sunshine that you hardly recognize them. You’ve been living under a fog for so long that when it lifted, you forgot how bright life could be. 

“Okay, okay!” you gasp, and his fingers still. “Thursday. 7 o’clock.”

“There we go.” He kisses your forehead. “Was that so hard?”

“Hardest thing I’ve ever done,” you say dramatically, resuming your post, nestled into his side. 

“Liar.” His fingers resume playing with your hair. “You like me.”

You feel like a kid in kindergarten, caught passing a note in class with “do you like me? check yes or no” scrawled in messy handwriting. Like you’re on the playground at recess, heart racing because your crush smiled at you across the monkey bars. But it’s got you just as giddy. “I guess I do.” 

Jungkook reaches over to pull the blanket over you two. “So what happens now?” you wonder aloud. It’s an innocent question, but somehow loaded with more intent than you realize. 

“Now?” he yawns. “Now you let me stay the night. Then tomorrow I’m gonna make you the most fire breakfast of all time. Then Thursday, I’ll take you to the best dinner of your life. And then—”

“There’s more?” Your eyes widen in sarcasm. 

“And then I keep taking you out until you realize you’re in love with me too.”

Your heartbeat is quick but steady in your chest. “Pretty confident about that, hm?”

“Extremely so.” Jungkook yawns again, voice getting drowsy. “I’ve got years of romcom knowledge. I’ve read those Tumblr fanfics. You don’t stand a chance.”

He’s probably right. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you didn’t from the moment he stood in front of you at that cafe. 

Before you close your eyes and float off into sleep, you mumble out, “God, when did you get so hot?” 

taglist. @mimi1097 @AlmatiarAU @absolutelyjeons @Sabrinahiddig @yooniepot @ggukivrse @Deluluvalerie @Sugak00kie134340 @Angelxkoo @yange7l @mellyyyyyyx @Senaqsstuff @jjkkkk15 @likecrazy22 @impossiblecopoaffire @readingbee44 @EyesforJungkook @lvnderdreams @vintagemoonsstuff @mauveliz @allysh @jeontylv @neurospicynugget @jxniana @haniiii @bo-rimmy @j0cgr0c @roseda @ggukreqz @dltyum @xxxxx1415 @annyeongbitch7 @nesha227 @Cannotalwaysbenight @Satisfied18 @m4aimm @Bangtansfav-7 @secretspam699 @Seolhyuningg @ot7girl4l @writesvani @xsyruhh @songbyeonkim 

[jung-koook]

this cooking show is so captivating 🤌

[almatiarau]

#the damp hair really gets me 😫

[jung-koook]

he's so handsome ♡

[jung-koook]

jungkook x are you sure?! season 2 teaser trailer