to turn a bad thing good | jjk. III
➵ summary: jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.
➵ pairing: ceo!jungkook x law student!f. reader
➵ genre: series, arranged marriage!au, fwb!au (?), haters to lovers!au, smut, fluff, angst
➵ rating: 18+
➵ word count: 12k
➵ warnings: swearing, bickering as always, juicy tension, MARIJUANA USE (edibles, all situations involving the marijuana are consensual), depictions of ptsd, feelings of panic, heavy making out, neck kissing, so much touchING
➵ a/n: third chapter has arrived after a millennium thank you SO much to everyone who waited!!! I apologize if this chapter isn’t everything you’d hoped for but I promise, now that I’ve gotten out of my writer’s block and found my passion for writing again, I hope to release more chapters and get this story rolling!! pls forgive me for mistakes i did not have a beta bLEH. your feedback means the world to me <3
chapter three: “don’t know what to do, am I livin’ this right?”
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You shuffle your feet skittishly, clutching your purse as though it were your heart, and you could manually snuff out its erratic beating.
Jungkook’s parents have called you in for a private meeting; there’s nothing in the universe that could quiet your nerves right now. These are influential people capable of compelling even your mother to abandon her morals. People who could request luxury and have it served to them on a silver platter, just as your hand in marriage was.
Exhaling steadily, you push open the heavy door, revealing Jungkook’s regal-looking mother and father chatting away. They appear pleasant, perhaps even friendly, but they’re overly polished—an impenetrable facade drapes them, indicating that their true selves are hidden behind shitty masks.
How ironic it is for them to have such an open, genuine son.
“Ah, Y/N, welcome.” Jungkook’s father beams, his doe eyes smiling as he motions towards a couch opposite his desk. Their suite is exquisite and personalized with opulent items, confident that this suite, perhaps even this entire resort, belongs to them.
“Have a seat, dear.” Jungkook’s mother coos, her saccharine-sweet smile nearly rotting your teeth.
“Thank you for inviting me, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon.” You peer around as you sit, curiosity plaguing you. “Will my mother be joining us?”
“That’s not necessary.” Jungkook’s father waves a hand. “We’d like to speak with you, Y/N.”
Warning bells start ringing in your head, and you clear your throat, poker face intact; you’re certainly not going to let these people know how afraid you are of them. “I’m flattered, Mr. Jeon; what would you like to speak to me about?”
With a taut laugh, Jungkook’s father sighs… sighs. He clasps his hands together upon his cherrywood desk. “Y/N, I never wanted to have this discussion with you. Simply because it feels tasteless, however, my wife and I prefer to be frank; we know you do not want to marry our son.”
You internally choke, heart pumping in your goddamn throat. “I… pardon?”
Jungkook’s father clicks his tongue. “Yes, we’re aware, Y/N. And I do not blame you; my son is quite the character. He isn’t marriage material; surely, I can understand why you would not want to live a life tied to him. He’d only bring you disappointment and misery. Believe me, we have personal experience.”
Your brows threaten to furrow at Jungkook’s father’s choice of words, but your mouth moves faster than you can think—there’s no way they could’ve known your true feelings towards the marriage. “Mr. Jeon, sir. I… think you may be mistaken. I informed you yesterday that I will happily accept Jungkook’s proposal.”
You hate that your voice quivers, but could you help it? How can Mr and Mrs Jeon even know about your rejection of the marriage? Surely Jungkook didn’t open his mouth; he’s the one who’s been the most adamant about pursuing this matrimony. You’re also confident his parents couldn’t have overheard your conversations; they were always AWOL whenever you had them.
The only other person who knows about your disdain for marrying Jungkook is…
God-fucking-dammit.
“It’s alright, Y/N. There’s no need to hide it; we’re aware of your rejection of the marriage courtesy of your mother, which is the main reason we wanted to speak to you privately.”
Your nervous system begins to crash, frantic messages sending you into a frenzy. How are you meant to defend yourself and navigate this conversation? Let alone even compute your sheer anger towards your mother for her betrayal?
This is all fucking overstimulating.
“Mr. Jeon, I’m not sure what my mother told you… there must’ve been a misunderstanding—”
“Y/N, we’re making this simple; you cannot disagree with marrying our son.”
Your expression collapses. “Sorry… pardon?”
“Y/N, dear. I’m sorry to inform you, but there is no way for you to reject your marriage to our son. We do not want to sound threatening, but we can’t allow you to say no.” Jungkook’s mother attempts to soothe you with her dulcet tone, but her words are cutthroat.
You can’t believe this is happening; are his parents sincerely attempting to entrap you? You can’t help but lightly scoff, unbelieving of this. “Mr and Mrs Jeon, with all due respect, I think I can decide who I marry. And I promise you, while your son is a delight, I can’t marry him. Nor can I be forced into marrying him. I simply don’t know him well enough.”
“There is no force here, Y/N—” Jungkook’s father starts, but you don’t let him finish.
“But isn’t there? Nothing is accommodating or understanding about this conversation, Mr. Jeon. It sounds very arbitrary.”
“Dear, we’re only telling you that there is no choice in the matter. Part of your mother signing us meant your hand in marriage to our son; no part of the deal outlined a choice.”
“Well, that would mean more if I knew about it.” You swallow with a cold glance at Jungkook’s mother, ensuring you keep your tone in check. “This contract or deal, including our marriage, was made without my knowledge or consent, deeming it technically null and void, Mr and Mrs Jeon. I sincerely apologize, but I do not see the merit in marrying your son when we don’t know each other. We’re strangers, and I’m certain many other women would be happy to marry Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s father sighs, clutching his hands tighter together. “Y/N, under most circumstances, I would’ve let this go. You are right; many women deeply desire to marry my son. However, what you forget is that those women all possess ulterior motives. Whether it’s our family’s influence, status, or empire—I cannot let my son marry a woman who only cares for his money. This is why you are the ideal choice.”
Perplexion colours your features. “And why is that?”
“Because you have no reason to marry our son for his money.” His father unflappably answers. “Your family consists of affluent and successful lawyers, and as an aspiring lawyer, you are driven and ambitious in your field—you have no need to use our son.”
You fight back a scoff, ensuring you're as respectful as possible. “How can you guarantee that, Mr and Mrs Jeon? It seems you’re utilizing me as a band-aid solution to your son’s problems, and you can’t guarantee an arranged marriage to me will fix Jungkook.”
That silences them for a bit, but you’re sorely mistaken—that silence was only their moment to calculate.
“You seem to be an impeccable liar, Miss Y/L/N.” His father scolds.
It’s like someone took a bat to your stomach. “I beg your pardon?”
“We know you’ve met our son before, Y/N.” Jungkook’s father admits. “Which means you are perfectly aware of my son’s flawed character. Your ability to pretend to accept this matrimony in the beginning nearly had us fooled. I'm sure you can continue to pretend to like my son, which will keep him happy.”
Shock isn’t even an appropriate word; perhaps flabbergasted would be. “I’m sorry, again, you must be mistaken. I have never met Jungkook—”
“We keep close tabs on our children, Y/N.” Jungkook’s mother informs, leaning her perfectly manicured hand on her husband’s desk. “We know you and Jungkook were both present at Jung Hoseok’s nightclub opening a few weeks ago, and we know you were both seen leaving together. We’re aware.”
Barring the fact that you feel wildly violated in multiple ways, your need to argue supersedes the discomfort. “Even if I’ve met Jungkook before, I’m still not the best choice. I’m sure you know there are plenty of women Jungkook has been with more times than me. I’m a stranger he only met once; I’m not the correct choice, Mr and Mrs Jeon.”
“But you very much are, Y/N.” Jungkook’s father argues. “Do not make this more difficult than it needs to be. You must say yes, or you are jeopardizing not only your mother’s word but your family’s firm. How would their reputation fare once it’s outed that their daughter takes home men from nightclubs? We know what our company signing on as your clients means to your family, especially after your father. So please, think about the implications of your choice.”
A figurative slap strikes your face as you soak in his words—bringing up your father was cruel. You sincerely can’t believe this. Maybe this is why Jungkook is such a bold asshole; did his parents always micro-manage and meddle in his life like they’re doing with yours now?
Who are you kidding? They probably did it his entire life. It’s hilarious how easily his parents manipulate the situation to create a dire circumstance if you don’t comply, all for your yes? Do you sincerely mean that much to these people?
No, you don’t mean anything. All that matters is that you provide something they need, and of course, your mother having continuously operated on her own accord, never considered the consequences that would compromise your livelihood.
Anger could never encapsulate the burning fury you feel towards her right now.
Assessing the situation, there’s no room for escape. Saying no to Jungkook’s parents would mean making an enemy out of a mighty company that could easily tip the South Korean economy. You channel your problem-solving skills, employing everything you’ve conveniently picked up in law school.
You need to de-escalate this situation and plan for the future—perhaps you can give up this battle to instead strategize for the war. Facing your opposition now, you decide to save face, plastering on a pristine smile. “Of course, Mr and Mrs Jeon. I certainly wouldn’t want to harm my family.”
Jungkook’s parents return identical plastic grins, appearing delighted. “Thank you, Y/N. We appreciate your cooperation and look forward to welcoming you into the family as our daughter.”
With that, you rise from your seat to send them a respectful bow, purse folding underneath your iron grip. Spinning on your heel, all that fills your head is a thousand curses, damning your luck to the very depths of hell.
You sit idly in the shallowest part of a private pool, deciding to indulge in whatever the Jeon’s luscious resort could offer if they’re going to royally fuck you over.
You lounge in a tranquil, quiet pool. Adjusting the sunglasses that shield you from the afternoon sun beaming through the ceiling windows, you settle more comfortably into the water, letting it wash away your frustration.
Your mind brews with different versions of that conversation, wishing you could’ve been more assertive, but alas, niceties and respecting your elders are more important than free will. You couldn’t raise your voice nor flaunt an attitude, only earning yourself their disdain—the last thing you need.
You hear footsteps slow down from the pool entrance, turning your head to find the person you least expected.
Jungkook enters with his AirPods on full blast, tapping away on his phone, a towel hanging from his shoulder. He’s completely unaware of your presence until he lazily strides over to the pool, his eyes widening once they land on you.
“You’re here?”
“Yeah, because I can be.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows bounce, indicating he’s not touching your grumpy self with a 10-foot pole. He pops out an airpod, rolling his lips. “Do I even want to ask?”
You scoff. “As if you care?”
“Even if I said I did, would you believe me?”
Acquiescing at his fair point, you grind your teeth, frustration reaching a record high. “I’m not really in a sharing mood, especially with you.”
You don’t mean to sound so vicious, but you do, anyway. You happily return to reading on your Kindle, acting unbothered by his presence. Keyword; acting, because only God knows how much you're tempted to soak up Jungkook’s deliciously bare body with only trunks hugging his pretty hips.
Matters worsen when he flashes you a narrow-eyed look before setting aside his phone and buds on a chair. He rolls his neck and effortlessly stretches his mouth-watering muscles—you’re unsure whether he’s setting up a thirst trap.
Sadly, you’re being led right into it.
You cough away hormonally-charged thoughts when he dives into the water, the waves of the impact reaching you. You roll your eyes as he shatters your little bubble of peace, deciding to ignore him, but Jungkook’s presence electrifies the air around you.
He swipes water from his face and hair as he resurfaces. He glances at you as you read, catching your attention. You judge him for laying his eyes on you, causing Jungkook to break eye contact. He shakes his head at whatever internal monologue he has going on.
You return to reading, only to feel the heat of his eyes on you once again. You find him smugly gazing—you sneer. “What do you want?”
He flashes a displeased look. “What the fuck was that supposed to mean?”
You don’t answer, refocusing on your e-reader instead. You hear a tired sigh across from you—Jungkook’s annoyance is clear as day. “Y/N, have you ever heard of a question? Typically it requires an answer.”
You laugh. “Like I’m obligated to answer you.”
“You are when I ask you something.”
Usually, the dominance in his sentence alone would’ve shot something through you, which it does, but you decide to neglect it. So what if he’s standing in the pool with water up to his chest? His long locks soaking with droplets? “You should know by now that I don’t like listening to you.”
Another sigh passes his lips, and shortly after, Jungkook treads the water to lean his arms across the platform you're currently occupying, a shallow end that allows visitors to soak in a few inches of water. You feel an electric rush as his eyes penetrate yours, despising the magnetic effect he has on you.
There’s no amount of force or aggression in his approach either, just a soft, almost consoling look. You swallow as his chin rests on his forearms. Is he peering at you with… concern?
“Y/N, I’m serious. Why are you so damn upset?”
His sincerity throws you off, struggling for a response. “It’s… none of your concern.”
“Well, it is now. Do you forget that you’re supposed to be marrying me?”
You laugh again, recalling the wonderful discussion you had earlier with his parents. “Oh, trust me. How could I forget when certain people are so adamant about reminding me?”
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow. “Okay, I’m sensing layers in that.”
Rolling your eyes, you shut off your e-reader and cast it aside on your towel, crossing your arms over your scantily-clad breasts. Your swimsuit isn’t the most revealing, but it does accentuate your chest, leaving little to the imagination.
You catch Jungkook sneaking a few peaks, and you nearly throw up at the part of you that feels a blazing fire when he does. What the fuck is wrong with you? You shouldn’t feel your nipples harden, you hate this man. “Doesn’t matter what you sense, Spidey. Could you stop interrogating me?”
“I’m not going to, especially when you’re being cryptic as hell.”
You snort. “Then let your curiosity kill you; I’m not saying anything.”
Zoning out, you recline against your waterproof backrest and adjust your sunglasses, soaking in the golden rays that seep through the windows. There’s no point in looping Jungkook into the bullshit his parents pulled on you—it is insulting and downright humiliating.
But clearly, that doesn’t matter, because Jungkook decides on his own that he’s getting the information he wants. Almost instantly, Jungkook plants his hands on the platform you lounge on and hoists himself up, his biceps flexing as he does. He stares down at you with condescending fondness, languidly perusing your body before a sly smirk paints his lips.
You swallow hard as you peer up at him, this angle forcing you to squish your suddenly heated thighs together. His hair cascades down in soaked waves, his thin silver chain dangling deliciously over his traps. You stare at him wide-eyed, hormones firing in rapid succession.
“Y/N; tell me right now why you’re so damn upset.”
You swallow at his random words, not even daring to inspect the sentiment behind it. “It’s not going to change anything if you know, Jungkook. Why do you fucking care?”
A dry laugh rolls through him, hanging his head before you. He sighs deeply, lifting his gaze to find yours. He holds it so profoundly that for a second, you’re honestly confident Jungkook will lean down and kiss you. He seems to search your irises, practically excavating your damn soul.
“Why do you hate me so much? Would it be so damn bad if you just talked to me?”
You return his round-eyed look with a sceptical one, waging a civil war in your mind. He sounds so fucking genuine that it hurts to deny him cooperation. At that moment, you forget the compromising position you’re both in—his broad body engulfing yours, his heat and scent searing your skin. You break eye contact and clutch your chest tighter, nibbling at your bottom lip.
“It’s your parents.”
Jungkook blinks. “What?”
“Your parents… I met them earlier in the day and they… told me that I have no choice in marrying you.” You relay, hating the words as they escape you. “They said I can’t say no to you no matter what.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows cutely furrow, coral lips curiously pouting. “They said that?”
“Yes,” you stress. “Do you need me to fucking act it out for you?”
“No, of course not.” Jungkook bites back, slowly placating. “I’m just… wow. I expected them not to take your rejection lightly, but cornering you and forcing you to say yes? I didn’t think they’d stoop that low.”
“Well, they did.” You snip back, tightly folding your arms over your chest. It’s an attempt to ensure your composure remains intact, no matter how poor the effort—it also helps hide evidence of your body’s reaction to him.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jungkook’s tone melts into that of chocolate, tugging himself out of the water. He sits in front of you as his eyes swirl with guilt. “I am seriously so sorry you got roped into this.”
Something inside you flutters at the apology, but it doesn’t feel right. “Why are you apologizing, Jungkook? It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but… I feel responsible. This wouldn’t have happened if my parents were just fucking normal.” He vents, running his fingers through his wet hair. “They can impose themselves on my life, but not other people’s. Are they fucking insane?”
Now, guilt swirls in your eyes. Jungkook can’t take all the blame for this; little does he know your mother was the most sinister part of this plan. “Jungkook, stop. It’s not all about you and your parents. My mother’s the mastermind behind all this.”
Jungkook’s features contort. “What? How? My parents were the ones who planned this entire trip for you and your mom.”
“No.” you shake your head as you pull up your knees and rest your elbows on them. “Jungkook, this plan was set in motion long ago. My mother was behind this entire thing.”
“What do you mean?”
And you spill the beans. You tell Jungkook about your mother signing his parents and Jeon Entertainment as clients; you inform him about your hands in marriage being offered as part of their contract; tell him that both your parents are conniving people who only considered what benefits they’d reap, not the consent of their children.
“Wow… wow.” He stares at nothing, stunned. You watch as he openly processes his feelings. You noticed Jungkook did that often, so unabashedly expressed himself. “When did you find this out?”
“Last night,” you reply. “I didn’t necessarily talk to my mom about it. She kept deflecting until I got it out of her. I still can’t fucking believe she did this without telling me anything.”
Sympathy rolls off Jungkook in waves. A glance in his direction confirms the sensation, instantly hardening. “Don’t you dare pity me, Jeon.”
“I’m not,” he denies. “Sorry if I’m thinking about how fucked up our situation is.”
“It gets worse, you know.”
“For fuck’s sake, how?”
You sigh, wetting your lips before reliving the slightly disturbing information. “Your parents know that we know each other, and they’re aware exactly how.”
Jungkook chokes on air, clutching a hand to his rock-hard chest. “What in the absolute fuck? There’s no way.”
“Well, apparently, there is.” You snark, leaning back on your hands in the water. “They told me they knew we both met at Jung Hoseok’s club opening and that we also left together.”
Jungkook purses his lips as his eyes betray whatever thoughts he’s having. His gaze roams your body—perhaps he’s remembering the night he pounded into you over a table. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
“That can’t guarantee they know about us sleeping together.” He grunts.
“Jungkook, what the fuck else does it mean when two strangers leave a club together? Your parents aren’t stupid.”
Jungkook groans, smacking his palm to his forehead. “I honestly fucking wish they were.”
You laugh at every ounce of stress within you, still disbelieving the information despite having heard it just a couple of hours ago. “Unbelievable. Our parents are fucking unbelievable.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he preaches, huffing as his veiny hands nestle onto his biceps when he crosses his arms. God, is he built like a marble statue, especially when he’s shirtless like this, intensifying your unhealthy attraction to him.
Fuck off, Y/N; you need to squash all attraction to this annoying man.
“We need a way to get back at them.” Jungkook proposes. “Like hell I’m letting them get away with dictating my life, and yours too.”
For once, you find yourself agreeing with Jungkook. “Wow, I’m genuinely shocked to report that I agree with you.”
A condescending grin paints Jungkook’s face. “And I’m genuinely shocked you’re showing me human decency.”
“Whatever,” you scoff, “clearly we’re both being fucked over. The question is what we’re going to do about it.”
“Interesting,” Jungkook chimes. “You’re looking to join forces with me rather than using the entire English language to insult me?”
You lift a threatening hand in his direction. “Shut up; you know you deserve it for being an asshole 99% of the time.”
“Awh,” he pouts. “So you acknowledge I’m not an asshole 1% of the time?”
Annoyed, you quickly crawl over to him and land a harmless smack on his bare chest, not at all surprised when he barely moves a muscle, and rather giggles. For fuck’s sake, did his delicious self need to have a cute laugh, too? It’s highly contradictory to the solid pec you just felt. “Fuck off, Jungkook. Focus on our predicament here!”
“Okay,” he placates, holding up his hands in surrender. “What do you propose as a solution, then?”
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you nestle onto the backs of your legs. “Well, clearly we need to convince them this entire marriage is a mistake. Your parents are certain I’m perfect for you for some reason.”
That lights up Jungkook’s sparkly brown eyes, a smile painting his lips. “That’s news to me. How could an angry little kitten like you be perfect for me?”
Scoffing, you narrow your eyes at him. “Call me a kitten one more time, Jeon, and I’m drop-kicking your ass.”
“Jokes on you,” he retorts. “I’d gladly let you drop-kick me, kitten.”
Now you’ve lost it, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf ready to blow a pig’s house down. Grinding your teeth, muscle memory propels you into an offensive position, reaching out to grab Jungkook. You expect your next move to be swift; however, your expectation is wrong.
Jungkook predicts your hand placement and instead shackles your wrists, halting them from movement. He grins mischievously as your expression shifts into one of pure shock. You fight his grasp to reclaim control, but Jungkook dismantles your plan.
He pins your hands behind your back against the platform floor. Your legs naturally fly open as your ass hits the ground, causing Jungkook to lodge between your thighs. Your breath halts, feeling the heat of his presence sear between your legs.
The daring man grins smugly while you squirm, applying any techniques to escape his hold. Jungkook only tightens his grip or adjusts his lock, toying with his lip ring with a little laugh.
“Jungkook, what the fuck!” You yank your arms but gain nothing. Jungkook only responds with amused laughter, his sweet eyes creasing so adorably, you’re almost too enamoured to remember you’re pissed.
“I am so sorry; there’s just something so fun about seeing you mad.”
“Jungkook–!” As you attempt to free yourself, Jungkook immediately hardens his grip and tugs you closer, nearly chest-to-chest with him. Your breath hitches, and his clean, crisp scent attacks your nose. He peers down at you with such an enticing look that you’re utterly unmovable.
You glance up at him through your eyelashes, gulping—your insides twitch when he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “So you were saying; we need to convince our parents we’re a mistake?”
His closeness causes your chest to swirl. “Won’t take much convincing once we drop the nice act. Anyone can see we’re not compatible in the slightest.”
Jungkook notches a brow. “I don’t know about you, kitten, but we’re far from a mistake. This energy we have seems pretty compatible to me.”
Your system goes haywire as Jungkook’s doe eyes devour you. His sinful look ignites an insatiable flame, itching to connect your lips and do something about this crazy chemistry. Jungkook is stupidly right; you two have inexplicable, magnetic chemistry, but exploring it would only lead to your absolute ruin—you know it.
Connections like this with men like Jungkook will either make or break you.
“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You spit venom. “I don’t care what we look like. I’m not fucking marrying you.”
Something flashes in Jungkook’s eyes, but gravity immediately hardens them. “Don’t worry. I only wanted to marry you because it serves my purposes, but if we could get my parents off my back with our plan, it’s killing two birds with one stone.”
His words stir up more hatred for him, digging your nails into the backs of his hands so hard he releases you.
“Ow, what the fuck?!”
“I couldn’t provide a solution with you holding me against my will, mongrel.”
Jungkook scoffs, massaging where you impaled him. “What’s your big idea, then?”
You shake off the weight of his hands compressing you, swallowing back the lascivious flashbacks of him doing the same as he ploughed into your hole from behind. God, how visions of that night haunt you—how he haunts you.
“It’s diabolical, Jeon.” You warn him, something evil cooking up in your mind. It’s not horrid enough to ruin lives, but it’s definitely in bad taste. “You up for a challenge?”
Jungkook’s eyes glimmer with mischief in response, an eager grin on his lips. “Hit me with your best shot.”
“Do you not have manners, Jungkook? Didn’t your parents teach you not to inhale your food?”
“Please, is this what our marriage is gonna look like? You nitpicking at everything I do?”
Jungkook pins you with a dirty look as noodles hang out of his mouth. Your arms are folded as you eye him with disgust, having already finished your meal.
It’s hilarious how easy it was for your parents to don disapproving looks while you and Jungkook bickered. This must’ve been the ninth time you argued with each other, radiating utter contempt. Your parents had scheduled a family dinner at a restaurant at the resort; the perfect combination of exquisite Italian and the calming waves of the Maldives sea.
Yours and Jungkook’s body language was telling throughout the dinner: turned away from each other, closed off gestures, rolling eyes or huffing breaths. But then again, this wasn’t just acting with Jungkook; you’ve despised each other since the moment you met, and you don’t see that changing anytime soon.
Even though your deepest, darkest parts tug at the tendrils of desire that he whirs inside you.
“Y/N, dear, you know it’s not nice to point out others' eating habits like that.” Your mother gently scolds—you send her your coldest tone.
“Not my fault he eats like an animal. He should’ve been taught better.”
Jungkook’s father audibly clears his throat at that, his mother awkwardly swallowing her food. You almost feel terrible, knowing Jungkook’s relationship is already soured between him and his parents, but he agreed to the brutality of this, and you’re not backing down.
The only way to convince your parents this marriage is an awful idea is the only way they know best; serving it to them on a silver platter.
“Seems like you were raised with a gun to your head,” Jungkook retorts. “No wonder you’re such a critical control freak.”
You scandalously gasp. “Am not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Am not!”
“Are to!”
You grunt with frustration, playing the role almost too well. Something about being overly dramatic with Jungkook made you adopt a sense of camaraderie with him. You weren't alone either, you could see the quiet shimmer in Jungkook’s eyes as he put on his best performance.
It should be alarming how good you two are at lying.
“Says the guy who spends all his time drinking and screwing his money away. And you’re concerned with marrying me? How am I supposed to know you haven’t just come from another woman’s bed when you get home?”
“Says the woman who’s had everything handed to her her whole life. Is that why you spend so much time dictating other people’s lives? Because you can’t dictate your own?”
Your heated argument charges the entire table with unease, both of your parents either gasping, exclaiming in shock, or pinching the bridges of their noses. You’re sincerely glad Mari wasn’t part of this late-night dinner; Jungkook’s parents promised to drink and didn’t want little Mari around alcohol, having sent her to her room with a nanny.
“Jungkook, son, that’s no way to talk to a woman.” Jungkook’s father rebukes him.
“So what?” Jungkook sasses, wiping the sauce smeared by his lips. Why are you thinking of licking it off him? “She’s not gonna be my woman, anyway.”
You know it’s an act; it’s all pretend, so why did your heart sting when Jungkook so casually said that? You forget yourself; there’s no way you’d spend an eternity with this infuriating man.
“Still, son. Mind the way you speak.” His mother informs.
“You too, bidulgi.” Your mother follows suit. “This is your future husband.”
You scoff, shaking your head. “I’d rather die alone than marry an ill-mannered animal like him.”
Jungkook similarly huffs. “You’re right. I’d rather lose a limb than live the rest of my life chained to this witch.”
“Jungkook!” His mother exclaims, holding a delicate hand to her most likely terrified heart. “How dare you speak like that, that is not how we raised you!”
“Right,” Jungkook leans back as his tone hardens. “You two taught me to obey everything that’s come out of your mouths, including this marriage. Well, guess what? The only thing coming out of my mouth when I’m at the altar with this she-devil are the words ‘I don’t.’”
Another shocked exclaim leaves your lips. “You’re hilarious for thinking I’d ever get on the altar with you. You’d probably be screwing one of my bridesmaids right before the ceremony.”
Your mother’s eyes bulged out of their sockets then, her nostrils flared. “Y/N, you come with me this instant.”
With frustration fresh on your features, your mother yanks your arm, speed-walking away from the ruined dinner. She tugs you closer to the live music and behind the tent that sequesters the restaurant.
“Are you out of your mind, Y/N?” She exasperates. “How dare you act like that in front of your in-laws?!”
“I don’t know, mom.” You drawl with a saccharine sweet tone. “Maybe it’s because the Jeons already know I hate their son, courtesy of you. I’m just reaffirming what they’ve been told.”
Your mother placates, the most disappointed look donning her features. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“What’s on purpose? Me arguing with Jungkook every second? Hating him? Being against this marriage? You already know these things, so what exactly is on purpose?”
“You’re trying to sabotage it,” your mother spits back. “How dare you? After how hard I worked for you? For our family firm? For your father, who’s only ever wanted to see his little girl happily married?”
“Don’t you dare use Dad to manipulate me.” You hate that tears brim your eyes, hugging your chest tightly. “God, you just can’t stop being a lawyer for two seconds, can you? You’re already trying to exploit my weaknesses into obeying your wishes?”
“It’s not like that.” Your mother coos, reaching out her hand to nestle against your shoulder. “Don’t sabotage this, Y/N. You know what it means for our family, for the firm that you’ll take over someday.”
You laugh, tone drier than the Sahara desert. “Please, you’ve sabotaged our relationship with this. Don’t think I’ll ever take over the firm from you for a second.”
You watch as your mother’s eyes swirl with pain, but she conceals her emotions perfectly behind an ironclad mask. She swallows harshly before she lets go of your shoulder and stands taller.
“I did not raise my daughter to behave like a barbarian in front of others. You will return to that dinner with a smile and the most polite attitude you can muster, or I swear, Y/N, I will permanently cut you off from our family.”
Of course, the classic threat of severing the tie between you and your family. She usually did this when she had no other options to tug at, forcing her into blackmailing or threatening.
You narrow your eyes at her before stomping away, aggravated. You heard her sigh behind you until you both reached the table again, plopping down in your seat like an upset child.
Jungkook surprisingly sends you a concerned look, his doe eyes inquiring if everything’s alright. You indicate so with a light nod, returning to brooding.
“Jungkook, what is wrong with you? I told you to behave best for Y/N and her mother.”
“Oh please, father. You told me to at least show up, so here I am. I never agreed to be compliant.” Jungkook scoffs as he takes a swig of pinot noir, brewing with indignation. “We could easily be free of this nonsense of a marriage if you and mom just accepted we don’t want to be together.”
Jungkook’s mother sighs deeply, a frustrated hand snug against her temple. “Son, if we call off this marriage, we’re afraid you’ll never get married, and there won’t be an heir to take over Jeon Entertainment.”
“Sure they’ll be.” Jungkook retorts. “Who says I won’t get married after this? You and Dad could be keeping me from finding the love of my life by forcing me to marry some stranger. Besides, if I don’t marry and produce an heir, I’ll just adopt a child. What’s so wrong about that?”
“Everything. Everything is wrong with that!” Jungkook’s father smacks his hand on the table, causing the utensils to clatter. Others in the restaurant send Jungkook and his parent's odd looks. “Son, stop playing games. You asked me to stop treating you like a child, but it’s difficult when you act like one. Be a man and grow up! You are meant to shoulder the responsibility of a company, a wife, and soon, having your own family. Do not make me remind you of the consequences if you do not.”
Jungkook fights back the urge to roll his eyes, pressing his thumbs to his forehead as a headache develops. He’s close to finding a good response until your scent wafts in his direction, finding you and your mother assuming your seats.
Your desolate face alone tells him the conversation with your mother was just as terrible as his. Still, an innate concern pushes him to quirk a brow, questioning if you’re alright. You nod to him, returning to your forgotten salad on your plate.
The parents at the table resume a normal conversation once you and Jungkook are forced into silence. The plan had been to utterly ruin the dinner and force your parents to call off the marriage, but Jungkook could sense your mood was too soured now.
Jungkook tunes out much of the chattering, cleaning off the rose sauce of his pasta. He notices you wallowing in self-pity, and it’s not until your mother nudges you that your attention returns to the dinner
.
“Isn’t that right, Y/N?”
Jungkook watches your eyes widen, your lips forming a pout—he couldn’t understand why he found it so cute. “Pardon?”
“Your violin playing, bidulgi. Jungkook’s parents love listening to classical music. Why don’t you ask the live band if it’s alright for you to play a bit?”
Jungkook watches your expression immediately drop, frozen like a deer in headlights.
You swallow awkwardly before clearing your throat. “Ah, no Mom. I don’t think the band will let me play.”
“Oh come on.” Your mother encourages, “There’s no harm in asking, is there? I want our in-laws to see your talent.”
Jungkook can visibly see the unease that dresses your features, but you quickly mask it with a smile. It’s a shaky, unsure one, but you lift off your seat, teeth tightly clamped. “I’ll check.”
You exhale a deep breath, turning on your heel and stepping towards the live band who’s just finished a song. Considering you mentioned it the other day, Jungkook knew you could play the violin, but your tone was hesitant. Connecting it to how your shoulders shrank as you approached the side of the stage and anxiously played with your fingers, he assumes you’re wildly uncomfortable with this.
Curiosity hit him hard; what could make you feel like this? And if it makes you feel so uneasy, why is your mother so oblivious to it? Nonetheless, Jungkook watches you politely speak to one of the band members. There appears to be hope in your eyes when the violinist hesitates, though another seems to encourage him. The violin is eventually handed to you, and Jungkook observes you staring at it for at least half a minute before you grip it tightly, your throat bobbing.
Timidly, you step towards the center of the stage. The band lead quickly speaks to you before introducing you to the audience, and everyone greets you with eager applause. Jungkook also claps, but he’s more interested in studying you. There’s something about the distressed way you grip the instrument, nestling it underneath your chin with… pain.
Your delicate fingers squeeze the bow, face glimmering in the stage lighting, though it only illuminates your tempestuous expression. Your hands visibly shake, lips quivering ever so slightly. You inhale a wavering breath, forcefully shutting your eyes. The audience watches with their breaths held, lowly whispering to each other with concern.
Just when Jungkook’s convinced you’ll never start playing, you lift the bow to the neck of the violin and begin your descent into a song.
Jungkook is convinced he has entered heaven.
The effortless fluidity of your playing doesn’t hit him like a truck, no, it feels like the softness of snow falling on Christmas day. Like tides hugging the shoreline or a windchime pirouetting in the breeze; your playing is far too superior for Jungkook to accurately articulate.
The natural work of your hands, the seamless flow of each note, the melody of the piece you chose, certainly something you composed rather than an infamous song. Your mother was right; you’re tremendously talented, though that word alone is an understatement.
The crowd revels in your angelic playing; but Jungkook couldn’t help but notice the utter despair radiating from the song you played, along with the misery on your face. Pain seemed to stretch across your features, as though each note left your chest caving in.
Jungkook felt the urge to tear the violin out of your hands, just so you didn’t appear so heartbroken. He sat unsettled, bouncing his leg, waiting for the right opportunity to tap your mother’s shoulder and inquire whether or not this was a smart choice.
It’s not long before tears begin to shimmer in your eyes, and Jungkook’s had enough. Something vital compels him to call your mother’s attention, ready to insist she stop you.
Right then, your playing comes to a halt, finishing off the song with a crowd-pleasing bang. The audience sits stunned before erupting into applause, glee radiating in their expressions. But you’re the opposite, appearing as though horror has overcome every bone in your body.
Rapidly, you dart off the stage. You return the violin to its original owner before hurrying out of the restaurant. Jungkook’s parents quirk a brow and question your mother, though she remains seated, unbothered, chalking it up to a severe case of stage fright.
Jungkook may not know you that well, but anyone with emotional intelligence could tell that was far worse than simple stage fright.
Fighting his inner turmoil, Jungkook considers whether or not he should find you. Perhaps you were better off alone; you seemed like the type. But something pushed him to find out more. He couldn’t continue dinner with this nagging feeling inside him.
He remains seated, toying with his lip ring as he thinks.
It’s not long before he excuses himself for the restroom, though that isn’t his intended destination.
“A mango Bellini, please.”
“Extra shot for you, love?”
“Surprise me, why don’t you?”
You forcefully smile at the sweet lady bartender, hoping she’ll serve you premium mango for your Bellini. A long, deep sigh escapes you as you wallow by the bar, attempting with all your might to hold back tears.
Nothing can describe the heavy-heartedness you feel, the absolute desolation of passion that once made you feel something indescribable. Now, as you clutch your chest, you feel nothing but lead in your stomach, a gaping emptiness.
Gripping the familiar instrument prompted a fierce panic attack, but you choked it down, hoping your shaking hands wouldn’t betray you on stage. Still, you found it in you to power through the beginning of your favourite song.
A song you composed with your father.
A flashback suddenly appeared in your mind. The golden rays of the sun bleed into your music room. Your father speaking wistfully of the violin’s enchanting features, its moving sound. You see his proud smile as you complete one of his favourite melodies, and reminisce your giggles as he sweeps you off the floor and into his arms.
A single tear escapes the corner of your eye, instantly wiping it away. There’s no use in feeling remorse anymore, it wouldn’t make a difference. Things have been permanently changed, and there’s no use in scavenging the past for a lost feeling.
They’re gone forever. He’s gone forever.
“Is it your thing to constantly run away?”
Whirling at the voice, you placate once you find Jungkook standing before you. He scrutinizes you—you roll your eyes.
“If you’re the one I’m running from, then yes.”
You hear the soft chime of Jungkook’s laugh before he settles, leaning against the bar with respectable space between you two. His elbows nestled against the edge, his eyes flickering over the scenes of people rejoicing in the island music the beach bar offered.
“You’re good at the violin, you know.” Jungkook remarks, rubbing his fingertips against his lower lip. “I didn’t know you were that good.”
“You shouldn’t have had to know.” You scoff. “But of course, my mother’s an expert in bending me to her will. Shaping me into the exact mould she’s always wanted.”
Jungkoook purses his lips, nodding in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that’s tough.”
His nonchalance compels you to face him, brows quirked. “Is this the part where you tell me why you’re here?”
Jungkook grins. “What, am I not allowed to simply be in your presence?”
“No, actually.” You snip. “I’m allergic to people missing brain cells and basic manners.”
“A shocker, then.” He counters. “I wonder how you tolerate yourself.”
You can’t help but side-eye him, eventually turning away. “Seems being an asshole is still your speciality.”
“And yours is still assuming things.”
Jungkook becomes the receiver of one of your dirtiest looks, only distracted by your bartender handing you your cocktail. One sip confirms she did use premium mango, and your drink is far too exquisite to simply sip. You scarf down the fruity liquid before Jungkook speaks up.
“Wow, are you trying to choke?”
“Depends,” you purr, “if it’s the kind I like.”
You didn’t mean for that sentence to come out so suggestively, but it affects Jungkook nonetheless. Heat licks at his irises before he simmers, a small smirk painting his lips.
“I see you have a clear trauma response.”
You nearly spit out your drink. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Jungkook reaffirms. “Is this all your way of ignoring the clearly traumatic episode you had back there?”
Your defences instantly trigger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Wow,” Jungkook shakes his head, “now you’re going to act oblivious? You’re just like your mother.”
“Pardon me?” You pause. “What did you just say?”
“Nothing. Look, I’m not trying to pick a fight with you, Y/N. I just think you need to get your mind off this in a healthier way.”
The corner of your mouth curls up into a nasty look. “I don’t think it’s your place to determine how people deal with their issues, Jeon. I also don’t see you suggesting any so-called “healthier” ways.”
Jungkook grins with newfound purpose, his bright eyes landing on the moving bodies of men and women on the wooden dance floor plopped over the sandy beach. A lightbulb figuratively appears above his head, his brows wriggling. “I damn well know a healthier way.”
Your synapses fire quickly, putting two and two together. “Oh, no way, Jungkook. The last thing I’ll do is dance.”
“Why not? From what I remember, you’re a good dancer.”
Flashbacks of that sweaty, crowded dance floor at Hoseok’s club plague you, more so Jungkook’s body moving with yours. You remembered dancing with him; feeling his fingertips glide across your skin, his fiery eyes, his pillowy lips grazing your ears and neck.
You shiver, swallowing harshly. “You just witnessed me nearly lose it in front of all those people. Why would I want to dance in public right now?”
Jungkook sits on your answer, his thinking cap clearly on as he purses his lips. It’s not long before he finally finds an answer, sighing. “You know, I was saving this for myself for tonight because these are my favourites.”
You quirk a brow. “Huh?”
With droopy shoulders and a bowed head, Jungkook glances around him before he reaches into his pants pockets. Your eyes follow the secretive reveal, gasping when you catch the label.
“Jungkook, what the fuck? Why do you have edibles?!”
“Shh, it’s not that big of a deal. I just like getting high sometimes on vacation, especially tropical ones.”
You emit a disgusted sound. “Why are you even showing me this?”
He snorts. “Because you need a way to de-stress, and this is a great way to do so, no?” Jungkook proposes the idea like it’s the easiest suggestion in the world. Not that you haven’t done weed before, it just manifested a giggle from you that he oddly has edibles.
“Um, no? Maybe I just need a night to myself without your shit.” You snap back, but you don’t think you meant any of those words. Something about tonight compelled company, not loneliness.
Still, you’d never willingly admit to wanting Jungkook’s company.
“What, you’ve never done weed before?”
You scoff. “I have, I just don’t see how doing weed is going to solve my problems.”
“I didn’t say it would,” Jungkook replies, “but it will momentarily de-stress you, and you’ll forget about this feeling until tomorrow.”
You open your mouth to argue but don’t find a good enough counter. Technically, he isn’t wrong. And maybe you do need a night to simply forget about this doomsday of a trip. It’s only a few edibles and one night… it couldn’t possibly harm you.
Exhaling sharply and crossing your arms, you glide your tongue inside your cheek. “What kind of edibles are they?”
Jungkook lights up like a golden retriever, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Sativa-dominant, they give you the nicest body high you’ll ever experience.”
You’re not convinced, appraising the oh-so-delighted expression on his face. “Oh really? What’s it supposed to feel like?”
Jungkook quirks a brow. “It’ll make you feel like your body is heated, and any touch will feel like snowflakes kissing your skin.” He closes the space between you two, slowly bringing his hand to your bicep. He grips lightly, gliding his thumb across your skin. “The ocean air will feel like petals caressing you, the music will feel like it’s vibrating through your feet, dancing will feel like any negative energy is melting away.”
Jungkook’s finger glides across your shoulder, over your collarbones, until it nestles over your lips. “You just have to try.”
You swallow before lightly smacking his hand away, the buzz of your Bellini providing you with newfound courage. “And who says I trust you enough to be high with you?”
Maybe it was the alcohol, but you swear Jungkook’s eyes soften. “You once honoured me by trusting me with your body. May I ask that you trust me once more?” He grasps your hand and cradles it like a gentleman, his expression far from conniving.
He appeared charming.
You give in, rolling your eyes. “Oh God, fine.”
Jungkook lights up, peering around as the bar changes its rhythm from a down-to-earth soul to a lively beat. He guides you to the dancefloor, moving his body to the addicting music. You’re impressed by how well he moves, having forgotten during your drunken escapade nights before. His shoulders groove and his feet effortlessly follow, his happy energy electrifying you.
Your body responds to his, feeling the Latin music charge your muscles and drive you to move. Your hips start swaying, arms infected with the need to wave them in the air. You laugh as Jungkook imitates your moves, moving side to side and dancing with his back to you. A snort leaves his mouth as you bring the cringe moves out, the sprinkler making an appearance as Jungkook piggybacks with a whip and nae/nae.
A series of ugly giggles escape you, instantly covering your mouth.
“Oh my God, is that a laugh?!” Jungkook asks over the music.
“Shut up, the only thing funny here is you!”
Jungkook rolls his eyes before he reaches into his pocket, a mischievous smile painting his lips. “Let’s take them?”
Your eyes light up at the site of the colourful gummies, your craving for a good time overwhelming you. You wait for any sense of hesitancy to stop you, the logical part of you to rip your desires to shreds, but nothing is strong enough.
Jungkook was right, he’s never given you a reason to believe he’d harm you during a vulnerable time.
And right now, you need a fun, wild ride, not a depressing night to yourself.
You nod, Jungkook meeting your fiery gaze with his own. He splits the gummies equally and informs you of the dosage. You’re aware of your tolerance and ensure him you’re alright with the amount he’s offering. On the count of three, you both pop the edibles in your mouths, adoring the blue raspberry flavouring.
You swipe some sugar from your lip onto your tongue. “How long will it take to feel them?”
“Usually around 30 minutes for me,” Jungkook informs. “Probably the same for you.”
“No worries,” you grin. “I don’t plan on going anywhere in that time. Do you?”
Jungkook laughs. “Not-at-fucking-all.”
Dancing has never felt so good.
Euphoria is a sore understatement, every vein in your body is buzzing with adrenaline. Jungkook was right yet again; the breeze radiated your skin, your bones felt loose and your head was far beyond cloud nine, abandoning every shred of negativity on planet Earth.
The best part of it all? Jungkook was being fun. He wasn’t making snarky comments or being a grade-A asshole, he was genuinely personable and amusing to be around. His high energy kept you alive and his silly dancing erupted many laughs from you.
The DJ tonight mainly kept the mix upbeat and lively, though he descended into a small RnB snippet, playing more sultry, slow songs. That’s when your body grapples with every desire residing within it, moving without shame.
It's only once your eyes meet Jungkook’s insatiable ones, did you realize he’s practically eating you up. Your brain tells you there’s something wrong with that, but you can’t find an answer as to why.
Your core flares at the way he gazes, a small smile on his lips. His look wasn’t lascivious, rather appreciative of a masterpiece before him. You bite your lip, the sudden need to feel him on your body overwhelming you. He is such a delicious man, you thought to yourself, emboldened enough to admit it to yourself.
The current song vibrates through you as you gravitate towards Jungkook as the moon does with the Earth. Dancing with him feels like second nature, memories from your previous night together spilling in.
You couldn’t help but admire him as his skin glistened in the ambient lighting of the beach bar, his hair tousled with sea air, but it only made him appear more handsome. His chest popped in the linen button-up shirt adorning his stunning body, practically calling for your hands to caress.
Your next move is just that, slowly sliding over his marble statue of a chest before linking around his neck. Glancing up at him, you're close enough to feel his breath, bodies pressed up against each other.
Jungkook smirks, snaking his veiny hands around your waist, clearly just as into this as you. He leans his head down, connecting your foreheads as he begins guiding your hips with his. You didn’t expect the connection to shoot a scorching hot shock through you, something deep inside igniting.
You suddenly need to be closer to him, letting your body do the talking. You could feel the lyrics and bass of the song enlivening every aching part of you, the tension rising. Your gazes lock in that moment, and you swear you can see what’s going on behind Jungkook’s fiery eyes.
He’s thinking about that night; the night your bodies moulded together and your hands touched places nobody else sees. You reminisce on the feelings that overwhelmed you then. The innate pull towards him, the warmth of being touched by him, his masculine scent and mannerisms and strong body awakening your femininity.
You watch Jungkook swallow, knowing damn well he feels this crazy chemistry between you. It’s so palpable you are practically drowning in it, suffocating from all the possibilities that could exist between you two.
Biting your lip, you can’t help but let out a sigh, the dirtiest of thoughts running through your head. It’s as though Jungkook reads them, his expression showing… pain.
“Don’t give me that look.”
You scrunch your eyebrows. “What look?”
“Like you need me right now or you’ll die.”
The high in your bloodstream almost stops you from snapping at him with something clever. “I could never need you, Jeon.”
“You sure about that?” Jungkook hums, running his delicious hands over your lower back, just brushing above your ass—your breath hitches, skin lighting on fire. “Because it seems like your body doesn’t share that sentiment.”
You huff. “Oh please, you’re being unfair.” You pout. “I will never want you, Jeon Jungkook. Never, in a million years.”
“Oh yeah?” Jungkook replies, his voice low and soft, closing in on your face. You can sense him vividly, his demeanour having shifted, his eyes scanning all your features before fixating on your lips. You lick them in response, hanging onto every breath as your heart pounds in your ears.
“Yeah,” you whisper, tongue-tied. “Never… ever…”
“Yeah?” Jungkook chides you. “Never… right?”
Not a moment later, Jungkook’s lips crash into yours.
They typically depict fireworks gushing whenever you feel the lips of someone you’ve yearned for. Soft, pretty eruptions that spill butterflies into your stomach.
This didn’t feel like fireworks, it felt like every cell in your body decided to burst.
Your bloodstream was invaded by your unbearable yearning for Jungkook, savouring the taste of his tongue shyly lapping at your mouth. Your fingers navigated to his hair, slightly tugging when your body pressed against his.
Jungkook breathed into you, his hands gripping you tighter and gravitating towards your ass as he deepened the kiss. After multiple asks, your mouth invites Jungkook’s tongue, moaning when it spills into yours and begins licking with all its might. You match his movements, entertaining a song and dance that compels you to throw yourself onto this delicious man.
His hands begin scavenging your body, hugging you so tightly to him you’re sure he could hear your heart pounding. Your lust overcomes you, face heating as the weed tosses all judgment out the window.
Just when your skin starts to burn and your core rapidly pulses, Jungkook detaches himself from you, breathless, his pupils so dilated he appears completely enamoured.
“We’re leaving.” He asserts, clasping your wrist and dragging you off the dance floor.
Your hip knocks over items on a night table as Jungkook pins you to a wall, furiously making out with you. You become addicted to his taste, unable to stop, your moans bouncing off the walls of your shared room.
Jungkook scales your body and finds your hands before you can wrap them around his neck, caging them above you.
He dives in amorously for your neck, your leg slinking around his hip as he assumes a gentle thrusting motion. It ignites your center, which likely glistened with your wetness by now. You could only recall faint memories of Jungkook’s dick from all those nights ago, though one memory was clear.
He was long, and he was thick.
You feel his manhood press up against your heat, intoxicated by his deep, wet kisses. His tongue drags across your skin up to your ear, shuddering with pleasure. He glides back down to your neck, suckling and nibbling with sensuality so intoxicating, the weed felt like a background prop.
Every atom in your body felt comfortable, giving away all control to him. His hot mouth was nothing but pure bliss, satiating your animalistic hunger for him. He consumed you so carnally, so passionately, that your mind was nothing but a blank canvas waiting to store the art of tonight.
“Do you remember now, Y/N?” Jungkook huffs.
“Remember… what?” You swallow, cotton mouth starting to kick in, though you’re far too horny to care.
“Remember how compatible we are?” He hums by your ear “Remember how well our bodies mould together?”
You shiver, the muscles in your body tensing, blood rushing towards your soaked pussy. “No… not at all. I don’t remember.”
“Let me remind you.”
Jungkook hoists you up against his body, your legs wrapping around his torso. It felt familiar, normal, coded into the very fabric of your DNA to do so. There was no need to think with Jungkook; every feeling, movement, and decision you made with him in this moment felt natural, as though you were meant to make it.
The warmth of him ignites you, searching for his eyes as your body vibrates for him. You can’t help but dig your hands into his luscious hair, encaptivated by his presence, his handsome face. Jungkook kisses you fervently once again, fiercely, as though he were attempting to unlock the memories he once had of you.
His strong body against yours shoots currents throughout your core, electrifying the right places. Suddenly the room you share is too small, your skin heating up despite there being no change in the room’s temperature.
The wall met your back as Jungkook shoved you against it, core burning for him like a thousand suns. You could tell the high of the edibles began to hit you, your skin becoming foreign to you, invigorating pleasure replacing it.
The same feeling overcame Jungkook, who became rougher, hotter, and more desperate. When you bit his lip, Jungkook suddenly cupped your ass with his arm. His other was freed, slinking it over your body until it met your breast.
You moaned, the feeling of being manhandled by him nothing short of heaven. He clutches your breast and begins deliciously palming you, drawing more desperate sounds out of you.
Jungkook breathed hard as he heard, gripping you tighter as he began rocking his body against yours. Another moan spilt out of you, the edibles offering nothing but electricity to your veins. Your pussy pulsed, aching for something to fill her up. You wanted to cry, weaving your hands through Jungkook’s hair and deepening your kiss.
You didn’t know it would make things worse, the high driving every feeling you had to cloud nine. You grow louder, pleasure coursing through you so vividly that you have no common sense.
You lose yourself, loudness overcoming you, suddenly becoming so aware of your volume. You grow self-conscious, the marijuana disguising all reason as giggling wrecks your body.
Separating from Jungkook to laugh, the weed made you feel like air, uncontrollable chortles escaping you until Jungkook loses it too.
He cracks up, feeling his body shake against you. He smiles so widely you can’t help but return it.
“Why are you giggling?” Jungkook coos, somehow still effortlessly supporting your weight. Your high brain feels a current when you think about it, though subside it.
“Because this is funny.” You snort, “only a few edibles later and we can’t get our hands off each other. How are we going to prove to our parents that we hate each other?”
“Simple,” Jungkook answers. “We indulge in each other now, and put on a show for later”
Jungkook dives for your neck, laying wet, sloppy kisses along your aching skin. At first, it feels like bliss, driving you to give in and relish in the fiery, invigorating sensation of the lips.
But then your brain does what it usually does; overthinks.
“Wait, wait, wait…” You breathe, placing your palm in between Jungkook’s delicious pecks.
“What?” Jungkook’s lust-filled eyes focus on you, clearly far gone.
“It just sounded like you said you want the satisfaction of having me now, only to ignore me later?”
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”
You attempt to focus, purposefully fighting off the effects of the weed to clear your judgment. “What you just said,” you hiccup, “you just want to fuck me for the fun of it? Like I’m just something to have again?”
You watch as Jungkook shakes his head, pretty lips puckering with wonder. “I’m not following; when did I say such a thing? Those weren’t my words.”
“They may not have been your exact words…” you trail, speech slowed by the marijuana swimming in your bloodstream. “But that’s essentially what you said.”
“Are you… listening to yourself?” Jungkook questions. “I didn’t say any of those words at all.”
“Yes, you did.” You double-down. “Maybe not those exact words, but that’s what you’re insinuating.”
Jungkook freezes, his under-the-influence brain computing your supposed logic. “Okay… so when did it become normal for people to twist other people’s words? I never called you something to have.”
Perhaps you were too high to be having this conversation, but you took immediate offence to that. “Okay… and when did it become normal to gaslight people? You literally said let’s have fun now and go back to hating each other after. That’s an obvious ploy to just get in my pants.”
Jungkook scoffs derisively. “You sincerely have a problem with making me the villain in your story every second of every day.” His voice heightens with frustration. “How are you twisting my words in such a vile way? I wasn’t using you for sex. We were just having a good time and you had to ruin it with this nonsense.”
“Wow…” You huff, shoving him off you and landing on the ground. “You can’t simply try to understand that what you said was harmful? How it might’ve made me feel?”
Jungkook shakes his head, hands resting on his hips as he scorns. “So now you’re accusing me of having no emotional intelligence?”
“Oh, trust me.” You raise a hand, words muddled by the weed. “No need for an accusation. These are pure facts. If you had emotional intelligence, you would’ve understood that your words were harmful and apologized rather than defend yourself.”
“So that’s what you’re saying?” Jungook furrows his brows. “What I said hurt you? How could it hurt you? I thought you’ve always wanted nothing to do with me and hated my guts. Of course, I would think that all we can have is endless attraction but no real connection; that’s why I said those words.”
You pause, Jungkook’s words impaling you with a truth you didn’t think you’d face. Why did his words hurt you? When has anything Jungkook said ever elicited such emotions from you? He’s correct, you hate this man, and you’re not meant to have anything beyond a physical attraction to him.
Self-reflection colours your features, left with no choice but to chalk up your unresolved thoughts and feelings to the ridiculous high. There’s no way you can explain yourself out of this other than to blame it on the intoxication. You are not developing anything beyond attraction to Jungkook, he’s only a chapter in your story, not the entire book. You are meant to act out this amicable relationship-turned-sour to convince your parents of the damnation of this match until he disappears from your life.
You are not meant to have something more with Jeon Jungkook. Ever.
“I’m not sober enough for this,” you eventually croak, shying away from him. You can’t even meet his blazing gaze. “I’m sorry, but I take back any consent or whatever; the weed is making me feel weird.”
Jungkook immediately backs up, concern dawning on his features, but he masks it with a tightened jaw and raised hands. “No need to say sorry, I respect that. We won’t do anything unless you’re comfortable.”
You wince at the warmth that floods your chest, hating that he could have such an effect on you. Why does it make your chest ache when he so naturally shows you consideration? This is basic human decency, he’s just being a decent human.
“Thanks,” you swallow, “I feel like I need to crash.”
“Same,” he swallows, clearing his throat as he puts distance between you two. “But I’m having the munchies. I’m gonna head out for some food.”
You try not to read into it, but perhaps he’s providing you with space after what transpired. You silently thank him for it, flashing him a quick smile before he nods and vacates the room, unsurely scratching the back of his head.
A sigh of relief escapes you, hand over your heart as it unexpectedly races. You can’t find it within yourself to search for an explanation for that moment, replaying it in your mind. It loops to a point that you huff out with frustration, head heavy with rumination and marijuana.
“Ugh!” You exclaim, beating yourself up with the confusing moment. You grind your teeth like a petulant child for some time before sleep attacks you, eventually slipping away into a quiet slumber on your bed.
“Stop saying that, stop saying that!”
“Ma’am, I apologize, but you have to accept the reality.”
All you can hear is your erratic heartbeat, the way it crashes so violently into your chest. There is no air in your throat, blocked by a bulbous lump. No words were available in any language to encapsulate the pain that wracked your chest, devastation running rampant.
“This isn’t my fault, I didn’t do this.”
Denial rushed through you, veins coursing with a complicated concoction of guilt, shock, adrenaline, and agonizing, agonizing pain.
“Bidulgi…” Your mother sobbed, clutching her heart where you envisioned a hole had now opened up, bleeding with her unbridled suffering. “How could you, how could you do this… how could you do this!”
Your mother screamed so loudly that every head on the patient floor turned. Her volume instantly filled your eyes with tears, feeling the weight of the world crash down on you. You caved, knees buckling to the floor.
You didn’t do this, you didn’t do this, you didn’t do this… “It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault!”
How could you have known? How could you have seen the car? How could you have known it would hurdle towards you at that speed?
“I’m sorry…” you croak, limbs losing the ability to move. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”
Those two words escaped your lips repeatedly, watching the scene unfold before you, layers of your soul peeling until you became raw. “I’m sorry, Dad, I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“I will never forgive you for this…” Your mother wailed, gripping your sweaty shirt. “I won’t, I won’t ever forgive you!”
“Leave me alone, it’s not my fault…” You choked, air running thin. “It’s not my fault, It’s not my fucking fault!”
You awaken with a violent gasp, immediately searching for oxygen. You’re drenched in sweat, clutching the sheets to your chest as anxiety wrecks your limbs. You’re met with the darkness of your room, swathed by the terror of your nightmare.
A flashback.
Muscle memory kicks in, taking deep breaths in order to calm your palpitating heart. The shakes still overwhelmed you, cheeks stained with tears. You’re not aware of your surroundings whatsoever, grasping at any sense of normalcy until your system is shocked by a presence.
“Y/N?”
You jerk with a yelp, backing up until you crash into the wall behind you. Your sight adjusts to reveal your least considered expectation, Jungkook.
“Y/N…” he trails, squinting his eyes at you. “What are you… are you alright?”
Embarrassment immediately floods your chest, reminding you that you are, in fact, sharing a room with Jungkook. You’re on what’s supposed to be a relaxing cruise with his family. He must’ve returned while you were dead as a log—he must’ve been asleep too considering his groggy, deep voice. “I’m… I’m just…”
“You’re just…?” Jungkook drags out, attempting to make sense of your unruly state.
You swallow, breaths incredibly heavy. “I just… had a dream.”
“That didn’t sound like a dream.” He remarks, leaning over your bed to examine your features in the near pitch-black darkness, only the moonlight from your window illuminating your face. “That sounded like a nightmare.”
“Why do you care?” You ask uncouthly. “Why are you so incredibly nosey?”
He quirks a brow. “So showing someone you care is now called being nosey? Why are you incredibly insistent on twisting everything into negativity?”
Sending a dirty look his way, you notice your heart is no longer racing–somehow Jungkook’s annoying presence calmed you. You take one last breath before lowering your hand from your chest. Your senses come to you, assessing the situation. “I’m alright now, you can go back to bed.”
Jungkook’s soft eyes analyzed you, revealing a tinge of concern. He scoffs before you can question it. “How can I do that when you snore like a goddamn elephant?”
Your jaw falls agape, unbelieving of his wild mouth. Amusement threatens to curve your lips, immediately controlling it. “Shut up.”
You hug your knees to your chest, fingers twiddling together as you focus on your breathing, eyes shut, ensuring no aftershocks from that flashback attack you. It was a normal part of your trauma, a routine now embedded into your bones. You finally achieve a sense of peace until you open your eyes, reminded that Jungkook is still here.
You furrow your brows, appraising his shirtlessness before you; why have you never been warned of his dangerously good looks in the moonlight? It practically bounced off his washboard abs, emphasizing his muscular build.
“Hello?” Jungkook taunts, dragging up your gaze to meet his.
“Yes?”
“You know my eyes are up here, right?” He motions towards his round, doe eyes. Heat fills your face, despising how obvious you made your attraction to his body.
“Ew…” you cringe. “why would I ever look at you like that?”
He grins. “Right, the look on your face was one of disgust.”
You roll your eyes, sneering at his self-absorbed sarcasm.
A laugh spills from Jungkook’s pretty lips, lowering himself to the edge of your bed. “You know, if you give me that look again, our parents might shove us onto an altar.”
You narrow your eyes, scoffing. “Please, you know damn well they’ll do it whether or not we like each other.” The grogginess of your high begins to settle into your senses again, the adrenaline from your nightmare now dissipating. It cuts into your speaking ability, exhaustion catching up to you. “Even then, you know damn well I wouldn’t ever like you. So it only works out one way, fucking marrying each other.”
Jungkook, who is equally as absent from Mother Earth, peers at you dumbfounded. “That doesn’t matter Y/N. Our parents don’t care if we like each other or not, that’s the point.”
“The point of what?”
“The point of what I said.”
“Which is?!”
“Oh my God,” Jungkook exasperates, “the point of us getting married. It doesn’t matter if we like each other or not, they’ve never cared about our feelings. What they say goes; what losers.”
His dramatics entertain you, beginning to forget why you were perched up against the wall like this in the first place. Your shoulders relax, releasing your legs. “Losers indeed.”
Jungkook returns a small smile before peering outside the window of your room, pensive. He rolls his tongue inside his cheek as thoughts seem to plague him. You catch yourself studying how attractive this habit of his was; you instantly berate yourself.
“What did you see?”
“Hm?”
“Your nightmare…” He trails. “What did you see?”
That same lump from your dream bunches at the base of your throat, coughing to avoid it from suffocating you. “Nothing… it’s nothing.”
Jungkook presses his lips together, features softened with concern. “I don’t mean to push you, but it didn’t seem like nothing.” He voices. “Does this have to do with your violin performance from earlier?”
Your breath catches, hating that he made such an observation. You don’t want him to figure it out, you don’t want anyone to connect the dots and remotely come close to unravelling the trauma that haunts you. You don’t want reminders, you don’t want support, you don’t want to revisit one of the biggest mistakes of your life.
“You’re being nosey, Jungkook.” You croak, fighting back the tears that well in your eyes. You pray they’re indecipherable to him, but your shaky tone most likely gives you away.
“You’re right.” Jungkook immediately backs off, lifting off your bed. “I shouldn’t pry. I’m just having a hard time seeing you upset, I guess.”
Your gaze snaps to his, shocked by those words. You share a moment of silence with him, your pairs of eyes fascinated by each other. You silently inquire him of his concern, and he returns a small look of ascension as if he doesn’t know why he feels that way, either.
He takes that as his cue to leave, turning his back on you–something compels you to speak up. “Jungkook.”
He spins at the sound of your call, eyes wide; “Yes?”
“Thank you,” you muster a half-smile, hugging your now cold frame.
He merely replies with an appreciative grin and head nod, before crawling back into his bed. You hear his sheets rustle as he assumes a comfortable sleeping position, beckoning you to also find some shut-eye.
Turning towards your window, you peer at the night sky, ruminating over your feelings from tonight; one thought on repeat.
When did you start questioning everything that has to do with Jungkook? Are you doing this right?