Cherrie

21 || F

[cherricherryy]

Campus Celebrity||Masterlist

pairing: jock!jungkook x girly!oc

genre/content warnings: smut, grumpyxsunshine, uni!au, popular!oc, consumption of alcohol, ciggs, jungkook is kinda an asshole, oc is a lil bratty and spoiled, oc loves pink a lot, loverboy jjk, yearning, slowburn, insecurities, body image, tw!ED, body shaming, slice of life, some jaehyunxoc,

summary: he’s the quiet, untouchable one, keeps to himself, doesn’t chase, doesn’t get caught up in things that don’t matter. She’s the opposite. Cher talks too much, smiles at everyone in the hallway, charming people like she does for a living--a natural flirt. The kind of girl who knows everyone and belongs everywhere, except somehow never quite around him. They circle each other anyway, glances that last too long, tension that builds where it shouldn’t, her pretending he doesn’t get to her, and him pretending he doesn’t care. It works, until it doesn’t. Because Jungkook is running out of patience, Cher is running out of excuses, and when something finally snaps between them, it turns into something messy, consuming, and a lot harder to walk away from than either of them expected.

status: ongoing.... part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

“Sparkles, are you just learning to walk?” Jungkook said, soft and full of mirth. 

Cher’s skin burned where he held her. Big hands clutched her shoulders, they were a little rough, calloused even—but also really warm. At that moment she felt the blood rush to her brain, all she could think about was how gorgeous he looked under the moonlight. Cher’s orbs looked as if the twinkling stars from the sky fell into them; maybe because she was under the influence, but there was no denying that she was absolutely smitten by him. 

“God, Cher, can’t even let you out of my sight for five whole seconds,” Yuta chided, steading her with an arm on her back. 

The guys shared a look, deciding to call a day and Yuta, desperately wanting to leave before Cher breaks her nose. Jungkook let his hands fall off her shoulders, and stepped back when there was no sign of her trying to kiss the ground. 

“Bye bye, tattoos.” 

Cher looked over the shoulders, up at the boy who was already watching her with careful eyes. Jungkook raised his brow at the nickname, but nodded in acknowledgement. With a flirtatious smile she let Yuta drag her away, eyes still locked on his figure. Jungkook shook his head with a creeping smile as he turned on his heel, going to find his friends. 

Yuta smiled, his eyes lighting in a knowing way. He didn’t say anything. Cher would’ve said something if she wanted, if she hasn’t yet, he’ll wait until she brings up Jungkook. Till then he’ll force himself to remain oblivious. 

“Let’s get you home,” Yuta whispered, tugging her towards the front gate.

divider credits: @kthice (love ur dividers, theyre so cutesy)

author's note: im getting back to writing on tumblr again after a longgg while. i js wanted to test the waters with some grumpyxsunshine, one of my fav tropes. would to hear wat you guys think abt this. i write mostly when im motivated, i love to hear wat my readers think of my fics so pls do comment or reblog. my asks and dms are open too. comment if u want to be added to the taglist.

[cherricherryy]

Coming soon….

[cherricherryy]

Campus Celebrity || 5

pairing: jock!jungkook x girly!oc

genre/content warnings: smut, grumpyxsunshine, uni!au, popular!oc, consumption of alcohol, ciggs, jungkook is kinda an asshole, oc is a lil bratty and spoiled, oc loves pink a lot, loverboy jjk, yearning, slowburn, insecurities, body image, tw!ED, body shaming, slice of life, some jaehyunxoc

summary: he’s the quiet, untouchable one, keeps to himself, doesn’t chase, doesn’t get caught up in things that don’t matter. She’s the opposite. Cher talks too much, smiles at everyone in the hallway, charming people like she does for a living--a natural flirt. The kind of girl who knows everyone and belongs everywhere, except somehow never quite around him. They circle each other anyway, glances that last too long, tension that builds where it shouldn’t, her pretending he doesn’t get to her, and him pretending he doesn’t care. It works, until it doesn’t. Because Jungkook is running out of patience, Cher is running out of excuses, and when something finally snaps between them, it turns into something messy, consuming, and a lot harder to walk away from than either of them expected.

“Cher, what the fuck?!” 

Cher hissed, scowling at the loud voice early in the morning. Pulling her covers up, she turned away from the bright sun glaring through her windows. 

“Why are you still in bed?!” 

“What the hell, Sunwoo?! Let me fucking sleep,” she mumbled, clutching the pillow tightly around her head. 

“Did you forget that you have a test today?” 

Oh. My. GOD. 

“Shit.” 

 Cher threw the sheets off her body, knocking her pillows down as she jumped out of the bed. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck–” Sunwoo smirked, shaking his head. He glanced at his phone to check the time and then followed her panicked figure pacing around the room. 

“You’re gonna shower? Really?” he questioned, watching her grab a towel off the closet and running to the bathroom. 

“HowmuchtimedoIhave?” 

Sunwoo grimaced, trying to understand what she was saying while she had a toothbrush in her mouth. It only clicked in his brain when he saw her lift her brows at him in urgency.

“You’ve got exactly fifteen minutes–”

“Fuck.” She spit into the sink. Her hands almost dropped the cleanser on the bathroom floor. 

“One day, he’s gonna have enough of your shit and fail you–”

“Oh my god, Sunwoo, shut up!” Cher cried, wiping her face in the towel she brought with her. 

“Get out, I need to change.” When he did make a move to leave she threw her damp towel at him, pushing him out of her dorm room. 

“Ow, ow, ow….” Cher’s face scrunched in pain. She barely had time to look down at the source of the pain before rummaging through her closet. 

“Kim Chaeri?” 

Jungkook snapped up when he heard her name. The professor called out her name a couple of more times, he looked expectedly at the people in the front but they just brushed it off. Only Naeyeon had craned her neck, turning around, squinting her eyes as she searched the room for any splash of pink. Jungkook furrowed his brow, he found himself scanning the front for any sign of her. None.  

Cher would never skip a test. 

Unless– something happened to her. 

Then, his face twisted into something dark, the look of worry melting. He shrugged his shoulders, smirking. 

Why should he care? 

Yet the smirk he had on his face was faltering, he still stole glances, eyes drifting to the door every beat. All whilst he told himself– it didn't bother him, that he wasn’t worried, that deep down he didn’t believe that he might be the reason for her absence. 

Was he really that off putting that she physically got sick after that night? 

Jungkook sighed, startling a few around him. He didn’t care. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, letting his forehead hit the table. 

“I’m here! Kim Chaeri!” 

As if he was a puppet, and Cher the puppeteer– his head snapped up like a puppet would when the string was tugged. Jungkook’s eyes fell on her, and all he could think about was the feeling of her weight on him. Her skin on his, her swollen lips that tasted like strawberry, and all the kinds of sounds he brought out of her. Then his eyes searched her face, like a habit that grew on him without permission. 

Cher has never felt so uncomfortable standing in front of the class, with so many eyes on her and the outfit she threw together in a hurry. An oversized hoodie and pants she grabbed. Her messy curls gathered in a messy bun. She barely had time to apply sunscreen, and lipgloss on her way to the lecture hall. Worst of all. She didn’t have time to shower and she could feel something icky when the inside of the pants rubbed her right knee. 

“Of course,” the professor murmured, frowning. “Take a seat.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Cher bit her lip, occupying the first empty chair she found. She turned around when she felt someone aggressively whispering her name from behind. And, her eyes didn’t stay on Naeyeon who had been trying to get her attention, it drifted past her. Only to find an all too familiar frame. 

Jungkook looked normal. Too normal. He had the same bored look on his face, his fingers absentmindedly tapping on the table. Only opening his eyes fully when the first year girl next to him got his attention. He leaned a little to hear her better– then a small huff left his lips before he shook his head with a smirk that could pass as a smile.  

He was unaffected. Like there was no trace of the event of last night. Like it was just another day he had to get through. Cher didn’t know what she was expecting after she had pushed him away. Just like she’d always known to. Running away, hiding behind excuses because god forbid someone learned too much of her. It scared her. But it no longer seemed like something to worry over since Jungkook barely cared, he didn’t strike Cher as someone who’d be interested in anything serious. She knew the type, there were too many of them to count. Jungkook may be a little better than the others but nevertheless he was one of them. 

“Miss, eyes to the front.” Cher jumped a little when a hand slammed the test sheet on the table. 

“Kim Chaeri, stay back,” the professor spoke, arranging the papers. 

“What the fuck?” Cher gulped before turning to face Naeyeon with anxiety written all over face. 

“I’m sure he just wants to check something,” she assured her. 

“But… he hates me, Yeonie.” 

“It’ll be fine.” Naeyeon patted her shoulder in solace and waved at her before disappearing out the door. 

With a deep inhale Cher took meek steps to his desk. “You wanted to see me, Sir?” 

“Ah, yes.” He rummaged through his brief case – yes, he carried one around and took too much pride in that – and handed a bunch of sheets to her. 

Cher’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. She couldn’t quite understand what was in the paper, I mean yes, she understood it was some virtual layout of their university– possibly a prototype to build a digital twin for their campus? But she couldn’t understand why he was giving her that. 

“May I know what this is, Sir?” Cher asked, her voice extra polite that it almost sounded like an act she was putting on. 

“I would like to ask you the same thing, Ms. Kim,” he replied, formal and cold. The corners of her lips twitching downward at the sudden coldness. 

“What did you think, Ms. Kim, that I wouldn’t find out?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about–”

“I’m talking about how you’ve deliberately picked my best student as your partner so you wouldn’t have to do anything.”

The volume of his voice and tone caught the attention of a few students who were lingering around. Cher saw the students at the door pause from the corner of her eye. Now everyone was staring at her. Her eyes burnt from the humiliation, too taken back by his sharp tone to even deny the accusation. 

“Did you know that you were supposed to submit your project proposal by the end of the day? I highly doubt you knew that considering you’re always on your phone or busy chitchatting to listen to class. Well, I definitely didn’t expect you to check your college mail–or did you ignore it? Jungkook will do it all anyways, right?” 

“N-no, I really didn’t know. It slipped off my mind, I was studying for the test–”

“You could’ve done it after the test but you chose to let him do all the work. I’m not an idiot, Ms. Kim, I’ve been teaching here for ten years and I’ve taught all kinds of students, I know exactly what you’re trying to do here.”

Cher has never hated a professor this much. There were those who looked at her with disdain when she showed up late to class or giggled a little too loudly with her friends during boring lectures– but no one had shamed her for her character. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate here, Sir, but I will clarify this with my teammate. And, next time you need to speak about this matter, please do call both of us.”

From the outside Cher looked unfazed. She walked out with her head held high and a rehearsed smile, a few freshmen stared at her in awe. She was nice, not a doormat. 

What a fucking misogynistic pig. 

Cher was seething inside. His words kept playing in his head and the way his eyes scanned her with judgement. Like she was some pest he found in his precious garden. Her lips gave up on the fake smile as she strode across the hallway, slipping in between crowds like the throbbing pain in her knee didn’t exist. 

Jeon Jungkook is dead. 

He was just like every other guy out there. Her nails dug into the leather of her tote strap. She didn’t care that he was the hottest guy on this campus– no, not when he literally tried to sabotage her. Did she know that he did it on purpose? Not really. But she knew men too well to stupidly, blindly believe that Jungkook was completely innocent. His vengeance could cost her her grades, everything she’s worked for. She hadn’t gotten anything less than an A minus– failing wasn’t something Cher was even worried about. Now she has to, thanks to someone. 

If that wasn’t going to send her down on a trip to crazy town, she had an ugly goblin at her ass who couldn’t stand pretty, confident women. Again, all thanks to Jeon Jungkook. She’s gonna have to come to class ten minutes earlier just to make sure she won't have to deal with that old cow’s bullshit, and more study hours for this cursed course. And every class she’ll need to mentally prepare herself for the public humiliation rituals. 

Cher abruptly stopped in her tracks when she spotted him. Jeon Jungkook, coolly drinking his soda as he stood by the vending machine with – surprise, surprise – a girl. He sure had a type. Cher scoffed, he was all teeth and smiles while he listened to the latter speak. She knew Minnie can be extremely endearing, especially with her honeyed voice and the pleasant chaos she drew in. 

“Jungkook!”

Cher was too caught up in her anger to realise the way her voice cut through the laughter. By the quiet gasp Minnie covered with her hand, it seemed like even she didn’t think Cher was capable of sounding so hostile. Neither did Jungkook. His eyes widened, for reasons more than one. 

She was fuming. Not pouting, not sulking–but shaking with anger. And with the way her eyes were shooting glares at him, the realisation came crashing down on him. But he wasn’t gonna lie that it excited him a little, it sparked a tingle in his spine. It didn’t help that Cher also looked really hot–

And, she said his name. Well, her voice didn’t drip with her usual jollity and friendliness, it was different this time.

With Cher, it always was. Every time they collided, he found something new, something nothing like the campus celebrity, Cher, that everyone knew. 

“Uhh… it seems like you two have something to talk about–“ Minne started, awkwardly glancing between the two of them, “I’m gonna go, Giselle is waiting for me, the cheerleading team has a meet. Miyeon will kill me.” 

“You know how she gets, JK, especially if she knew I was fraternising with her least favourite striker,” Minnie said. It made Jungkook lazily raise a brow at her tease. 

Cher glanced at her once, returning Minnie’s uneasy smile. Like she just caught something that only they knew, a running inside joke that was shared between the ones that made the grass their second home. It hit home. Not the joke, not at the insinuation that Jungkook and Miyeon had history. 

Cheerleading was a sore spot. Cher, since she was eleven, wanted to be a cheerleader so bad. She thought it was the coolest thing ever after seeing Brooke Davis in One Tree Hill, she was her favourite. But she was too self conscious and scared of the stereotypes back then, it also didn’t help that the cheerleading team was always filled with the skinniest girls. When she mustered up the courage it was too late, her limited flexibility had no hope. 

She’s always been an outsider. The cheerleaders and jocks acted like they lived in a different world than the “normal” people. Making friends with the cheerleaders gave her access to that world but she never felt like she belonged. This was high school all over again, her trying to get close to a jock–

Right. Jungkook. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Cher tried, she really did, to sound sharper, more intimidating but it came out as an outburst. A dramatic cry. 

“My problem?” Jungkook scoffed, bitterly. “Right, because I’m the one who ran away.” 

Jungkook didn’t know where the hell that came from, it slipped out before he could hold his tongue. He almost hissed out loud at how pathetic he sounded, his fingers curling into a fist. Just when he thought couldn’t possibly embarrass himself any more than he already did. He was hopeless. 

Cher’s lips curled downwards, forming a scowl, at the absurdity of his words. He was unbelievable. Of course, she knew it. How can his fragile ego handle rejection from anyone? The great Jeon Jungkook who had girls lining up everywhere he went, folding before he even uttered a word. She hated that she was one of them, constantly falling into his trap like she didn’t know any better. 

“You’re the worst,” she laughed bitterly, “I thought you were like every other guy, no, I was wrong. You’re worse than them.” 

“So I’m the bad guy now?” Jungkook scoffed. He really tried to hold back, but he was only human and he couldn’t stand there and watch her run her mouth. Like she was completely innocent and he was the villain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not one of your emotional support boytoys. I don’t go fuck random girls and come coddle you when I’m bored.” By now, Jungkook grew more frustrated, caught up in his emotions to be careful. He never was one to be anyways, this was him. Reckless, confident, and did whatever he wanted to do. Why was he trying to play the good guy? He was never one. This was the real him. 

“How dare you talk to me that way? You don’t even know me, you don’t know anything, Jungkook,” Cher said. She knew exactly who he was talking about. Jaehyun. He didn’t know her but he definitely knew his best friend, and that was a hard pill to swallow. She could pretend all she wants to save face now but he’d know anyway. 

“You don’t know me either. I’m sick of you assuming the worst, trying so hard to paint me as this villain that I’m not. Like you pit me against your little boys and try to convince yourself that I’m the worst of them all. I’m so sick of you acting like I forced you to touch me, like you didn’t want me–what a load of bullshit. Because I know, I can see it in your eyes, I can see that you want me–“ 

“Can you not be so loud?” Cher hissed, looking around and accidentally making eye contact with one of the students who was passing by. The girl eyed both of them with suspicion. “For fuck’s sake, why not use a microphone? The whole building can hear you.” 

“You were literally yelling at me five minutes back, and don’t worry, you don’t need a mic, you’re loud enough.” 

“No, you didn’t just say that,” Cher grumbled, “take it back!” 

“See? You are loud,” Jungkook said, gesturing behind her, “and a real head turner.” 

And she was. People were giving them curious looks, it’s not everyday you catch two people during a heated exchange in the middle of the hallway. What an odd pair at that too? The social butterfly and the grumpy starboy. They’ve never seen anyone have enough nerve to pick fights with Jungkook or yell at him, and Jungkook letting them. He was still standing there, patiently waiting for her to go on, despite all the attitude and yelling. If it were someone else, Jungkook would’ve walked away right after the first outburst. 

Cher huffed, blowing after the strand of hair that escaped the hold of her claw clip. Jungkook chuckled when the strand fell back more awkwardly on her face. Her hasty hand raised less than a second, nimble fingers clumsily tucking the hair behind her ear. 

“Stop laughing!” she threatened him. The angry pout on her face betrayed all her efforts to appear stern and daunting. 

That only made Jungkook laugh more. His head was thrown back, chest vibrating as the sound of his hearty laugh filled her ears. The kind of laughter that formed lines on the corners of his eyes and showed his annoying perfectly arranged teeth. And just like that she felt all the anger leave her body. Her shoulders dropped back down, her features relaxing and the creases on her forehead disappeared. She breathed out, soft, only audible to her. Something gently tugged her heart, it was subtle but she didn’t miss when her heart skipped a beat. 

“Idiot,” she whispered. With a fond smile. 

His laugh died down. 

He froze. She smiled. For the first time today, she had actually smiled and Jeon Jungkook had been the reason why. 

“So… uh, about the project–” Jungkook cleared his throat, schooling his expression back to a neutral one. “I submitted the proposal yesterday, I thought it’d be better if we do it early so if he has corrections he can let us know before it’s too late.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Jungkook blinked. The stiff expression doing little to completely hide the tension in her eyebrows, and the unmistakable frown on her lips. She was upset.

“I was goin’ to but I couldn’t…?” He didn’t know what to say. “I don’t have your number or anything–besides 4am isn’t really the most convenient time to call someone.” 

“I’m your teammate Jungkook,” Cher said, a sigh of dejection leaving her. “We were supposed to discuss that together, you can’t just do everything on your own without telling me.” 

“I know but you never showed interest in this and it’s obvious that this is not really your thing–you dread this course… I just thought, you will do all the talking part I’ll do the project and all the–” 

“Jungkook,” she interrupted, “I didn’t agree to be partners so you can do all the work. I may not like this course but I’m not dumb, I can do my share of the work.” 

Jungkook stayed quiet, thinking over everything, he didn’t consider all that. He just thought she’d be better off without the unnecessary stress, and that she’d be relieved knowing that she didn’t have to work on the project. It wasn’t easy, even for him. But he’d purposefully picked a harder one to challenge himself, and he always wanted to build this. He already had a vague template ready to start working. Besides, professors loved large-scale projects like this one. It was killing two birds in one stone. Except Jungkook missed his aim and hit the wrong bird. 

“And I texted you… I think you were at practice. I don’t know–but you know you can’t just ignore me. I'm still your project partner, I don’t want any personal issues affecting our project. Whatever it is, we need to put it aside and work together. This is really not…“

“Wait,” Jungkook muttered, “you texted me?” 

Jungkook stopped listening after the first few words, his mind going into a spiral. He tried to recall when they exchanged phone numbers. Cause he’s pretty damn sure he would’ve known if she texted him on instagram. She was quite hard to miss. 

“Yea,” she admitted in a low voice, a little embarrassed, “I got your number from Yuta.” 

“Oh.” Jungkook closed his eyes. 

He wished he had Jin to whack him at the back of his head like he always did whenever he was being an absolute idiot. If he was here he definitely would’ve. Jungkook never checked his message app, only had notifications on for their official group chat to keep up with their training schedule. 

“I don’t check texts often,” Jungkook cooly replied. 

Cher scoffed. Of course he doesn’t. She must really, really like this jerk to keep constantly searching for the good in him. She knew the signs, the pattern, the type of guy. After everything he did, everything he was, she should’ve labeled him for what he was. But no. A part of her was clinging onto him, or the idea of him. 

All because what–he was infuriatingly hot even when he was doing nothing but breathing. He also had a strangely pretty face despite being built like Hercules, that she can’t physically stop her eyes from wandering. And the glory. Now that she noticed, everything seemed to revolve around him. Like the universe favoured him. He had it all, lacked nothing and he was so normal about it, so natural that sometimes she felt it was intimidating to even be in his vicinity. 

Then again, underneath the fear, she secretly loved it. When his unwandering eyes were on her. When she was close to him, the untouchable Jungkook who hated having his personal space violated. The same Jungkook who pulled her, and held her like he wanted her to be his second skin. It quietly got to her head, denial was just a façade, an excuse. She was scared of losing it before even having it, Cher couldn’t imagine not having Jungkook looking at her like she was something, something more than the girl that was friends with the popular kids. 

Cher would never admit it—even to herself—that she wanted to be the object of his desires, the muse. To be the owner of the face that he looked for in every crowd, the one that could get him all hot and bothered with just a look. She didn’t care about love and all of that soft nonsense, she just wanted him to want her. But she was afraid, she didn’t want him to wake up one day and realise she was too much. Too high maintenance. Grow tired of her princess act. And see her for who she really was, realise that everything was a concept, the one that she created. Because sometimes, Cher, herself, barely recognised who she was. 

“Oh, you’re so cool, Jeon Jungkook,” Cher mocked, clapping. She didn’t care that she probably looked like a maniac to everyone that passed by–laughing in the middle of the hallway while the latter looked anything but humoured. Though, she was a real sight to see. Hair falling off her poorly held bun, either stuck to her sweaty skin or sticking out like twigs of a bird’s nest. Her eyes were all swollen and puffy from the crying, and her lips were void of the usual pink or glitter. She ate all the lip balm during the test, biting her lips and making the cracks worse. The outfit was just the cherry on top if not the entire cake, the old beaten hoodie paired up with pants that didn’t match. 

“Well, your coolness is gonna cost me my grade, by the end of this semester my barely three gpa will be a two-point-something,” she rambled. 

“Damn, Sparkles, chill,” Jungkook said. “Jus ‘cause I’m a jock doesn't mean I’m dumb. I know what I’m doing, I promise your grades are gonna be just fine.” 

“Try telling that to the professor, he thinks I’m riding off your back and just humiliated me in front of half of the class–”

“He did what?” 

Cher just looked away, crossing her arms under her chest. She wasn’t gonna cry. Again. She did an extraordinary job at holding them in since the morning, she wasn’t gonna break down now. Right here, in the hallway, in front of Jungkook. And she’d never catch a break or hear the end of it if she cried where anyone could easily recognise her. There were enough diabolical rumours flying around about her, she didn’t want to give them a new one on a random Thursday. 

“I swear to God, Sparkles, I didn’t tell him shit,” Jungkook blurted. 

If he was in his right mind and it was someone else, he would’ve thought that he looked pathetic trying to convince a girl to believe him. This wasn’t half as messy as the situations he had been stuck in before, it was simple, as a matter of fact it was nothing. He knew she was being extra dramatic about it all, the professor won’t fail her just ‘cause he doesn’t like her, and  he was famous for hating anyone who breathed, nobody in their department cared what he thought of them. One in every ten students in this university would’ve experienced his rotten personality first hand. 

But it was important to Cher. And what she thought of him was more important to him, despite his constant denial. Jungkook hated nothing more than caring about what others thought of him, he would even go out of his way to show that he couldn’t care less. Yet, he stood there, unable to move as he actively searched her eyes for any sign of trust. All he could see was exhaustion. 

The emotions in her eyes were so raw, this felt worse than letting him see her naked. She felt defeated, and tired, like extremely tired. And nauseous from the loss of sleep, the hours she spent on studying now seemed like an absolute waste. For the first time ever, Cher didn’t care. She didn’t care about how the wind tousled her hair, or if she had any gloss left on her lips, or the perfect posture. She just wanted to go back to her bed and cry herself to sleep. 

“Jungkook, look, I don’t care.” She sighed, letting her head tip forward. “I just want to get done with this–all of this. I cannot have a professor targeting me now…I-I can’t take it, not with everything already goin’ on in my life right now. So just…”

“Mmm?” Jungkook instinctively bent down when couldn’t make out her words. 

“Ugh,” Cher groaned, covering her face with her hands. But she sounded like she was pleading, frustration evident in the way her voice cracked, and the groan followed a whimper. The kind of noise that escaped her without her permission, even she hadn’t registered it. 

“Sparkles, you okay there?” he asked, his hands hovering near her shoulders. He didn’t want to push her further so he kept his distance, for now at least. 

Cher couldn’t lift her head, no, she won’t. She didn’t know what was the last straw but she could no longer take it. The sharp, burning pain in her knee, the hammering in her head, and the knot tightening her throat so hard that she couldn’t breathe properly anymore. Everything hit her all at once, it was a miracle that she was still standing on her feet. And she just had to break in front of none other than Jeon Jungkook. 

God, could this get any more embarrassing? 

Actually it did. A beat later, Cher spun around, throwing her body against a pillar as she puked her guts out. In the bushes. With Jungkook standing there, watching her body jolt forward with every hurl. Her feet moved closer and closer to the edge until she almost slipped and fell into her own vomit before she caught herself. Her back hit the pillar, with a whine. 

If Cher hated anything more than vomit, it was the contents of her own guts climbing up her throat and coming out in a projectile motion. The last time Cher puked was back in high school, when she caught that stubborn cold from passive smoking. 

Throwing up was disgusting and unhygienic on so many levels, but the worst was the aftermath. The weird taste and smell that stuck longer than the sick feeling of emptying her guts. She tore a wet tissue from her bag and aggressively wiped the area around her mouth. Her lips curved into the biggest grimace she’s ever sported when she glanced at the ruined tissue. Cher gagged, before the bile could climb up again, she rushed towards the trash can. 

“Here.” 

Jungkook stood beside her with his hand stretched, she looked down to find a bottle of water in his hold. Cher blinked at him, staring but making no move to accept the plastic bottle. He sighed, opening the seal of the bottle effortlessly. 

“Drink,” he urged, taking her hand in his and forcing her fingers to close around the bottle. 

Cher begrudgingly took a hold of the bottle and drank from it. Her face twisted in candid disgust. 

“You’ll never speak of this–“ Cher fixed him with a stern face. “If I heard that you went around telling people I projectile vomited in the campus bushes, I will shove this bottle down your throat and make sure you can never speak again.” 

“Woah, Sparkles–“ Jungkook snickered. 

“I’m serious.” She glared at him.

Jungkook tried schooling his expression but the corner of his mouth had the uncontrollable urge to twitch. That was when Cher realised, he was enjoying this too much. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him, a comfortable silence grew between them as they just stared at each other. She took this chance to look at him properly, she hasn’t seen him since she freaked out on him. He looked just as good if not better. There was a new ruggedness in his face, she couldn’t quite put a finger on it but there was a visible difference–

Has he been working out more?

That he has been–not on purpose. Jungkook had been spending more hours at the gym than he normally would. Usually, he’d doze off the moment his back hit the bed after practice but these days he had to find a way to tire his body more. Because he couldn’t shut his brain off. It never got tired, it chased sleep away all night and kept him distracted during the day. 

“Well then,” Cher cleared her throat, looking away and winced when the sun hit her face. “I’m going back to my dorm. See you–“ 

“Yea, no,” Jungkook cut her off, blocking her way with his body, his wide shoulders shielding her from the sun. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Uhhh… no, thanks, I can take care of myself.” Cher tried slipping away through the gap between him and the wall but he closed the space. Her eyes widened, she was trapped. Vending machine on one side and trash can on the other, and in the front, him. Her fingers tugged the sleeves of her hoodie until they swallowed them till their knuckles. 

Breathe, Cher– actually don’t. You just threw up. Control! Yes, control– do not touch him, not even a graze. 

“Just lemme come till the building, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Jungkook sighed. “Would you rather pass out on a stranger?” 

Yes! That’d actually be better than–

“This is so embarrassinggggg,” she whined, covering her face with her hands. Too late, the judgemental stares thrown their way were already tattooed in her brain.

Jungkook ignored them like he always did. “Start walking before I drag you there myself.”

What the fuck…

“Ugh,” she huffed, marching past him. Her hands clutched her emotional support bag tightly to her chest. Which was a bad decision because the abrupt action made her head spin a little and the direct sun wasn’t helping either. 

“Slow down, Sparkles,” he whispered. Cher jumped, little hairs at the back of her neck standing up at the feeling of his hot breath on her skin. “Your social status isn’t gonna plummet overnight just ‘cause you were seen with me.” 

Quite the opposite actually. This was going to attract more attention, more questions, more opinions than necessary. Of course it wasn’t out of character for her to be friends with someone like Jungkook, in fact it was very in character for her to do so. They were literally project partners for god’s sake. But she was worried. That this was going to turn out the way the Jaehyun situation did. Cher always made it painfully obvious when she had a crush on someone—the starry eyes, that particular dreamy smile, tilting her head with that smitten look on her face—yeah, it wasn’t exactly the description of discrete. 

“We aren’t in mean girls, Jungkook.” She rolled her eyes.

Jungkook rolled the sleeves of his jacket up till they bunched around his elbows. He breathed out, feeling the summer heat through the material, his hands constantly adjusting the jacket on his frame as they walked. Then his eyes fell on Cher, who was walking just a few steps in front. He couldn't imagine wearing a hoodie that thick in this weather and the dress pants didn’t look comfortable as well, no wonder she was feeling this sick. 

“Can you stop huffing and puffing like I forced you to walk me?” Cher snapped, glaring at him through the corner of her eyes. 

“It’s fucking hot, and my body can’t take this heat. It’s worse than a sauna.” Jungkook ran his fingers through his damp hair, pushing them off his forehead. “Should’ve just taken my car like I said,” he muttered, his eyelid fluttering shut when he felt the breeze. 

This sight of him wasn't good for Cher's already fragile heart. She never thought someone could look so ravishing while covered in sweat. 

Why wasn't she grimacing already? 

By all means, she should've been thoroughly icked out by now. Instead, she stood there shamelessly ogling his annoyed face. Something was terribly wrong with her if she found that hot. But she did, painfully so. Every time he bit down on his lower lip or nudged the silver ring with his tongue, those infuriating dimples appeared. They would be the death of her, she was certain. She had to be sick in the head for finding his irritation so devastatingly attractive. 

Cher wasn't thinking. One moment she was rummaging through her bag for her hand fan, and the next she was holding it up to his face like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Jungkook blinked his eyes open at the sudden gust of cool air, his brows pinching together in confusion, then they met hers. 

Oh. Oh, no. 

Realisation dawned on her. What has she done? 

"Just take it!" she blurted, pressing the fan against his chest. The instant her fingers brushed his, she pulled her hand away. Turning her face, she bit her lower lip and scrunched her nose in embarrassment. If she hadn't looked away, he would've seen the crimson blush spreading across her cheeks. 

"If you say so," Jungkook replied. His voice was light, almost teasing, but the smile spreading across his face made it clear he was enjoying every second of this. 

They fell into step once more, and silence settled between them like still water. It wasn't uncomfortable or eerie, just filled with an unspoken tension that neither of them dared to acknowledge. Especially not Cher. 

After pulling a stunt like that, she'd retreated into herself, suddenly far more reserved than before. Even when she spotted tiny butterflies flitting among the daisies, the delighted gasp rising in her throat dissolved into a small pout the moment she remembered who she was walking beside.

Why was this walk taking so long? 

Cher was convinced the university administration had moved the dorms overnight. There was simply no other explanation for why the walk suddenly felt twice as long as it normally did. The heat certainly wasn't helping either. Between the blazing sun, the hoodie she'd foolishly decided to wear, and the fact that she was already sweating from sheer embarrassment, she felt like she was being slow-cooked alive. At this rate she'd arrive at the dorms looking less like a barely functioning student and more like a greasy rotisserie chicken. 

She could live with looking terrible. Smelling terrible, however, was an entirely different issue. If Jungkook caught even the faintest whiff of it, she'd have no choice but to fake her own death and start a new life somewhere else. Every instinct begged her to wipe the sweat collecting around her neck and forehead, but her pride refused to let her. She'd rather suffer than let him witness whatever humiliating ritual that would become. 

Just as she resigned herself to melting in silence, something cool brushed against her cheek. Confused, she glanced to the side and found the little hand fan pointed directly at her. She stared in silence. Jungkook continued walking without meeting her eyes, absentmindedly holding the fan between them as though he'd been doing it all along. Jungkook remained completely unfazed, looking straight ahead as though he hadn't just shaved several years off her life expectancy with one ridiculously thoughtful gesture. 

“Thanks,” Cher mumbled, flustered and low. So low that she barely caught her own voice and with the lack of response from his side she doubted if he even heard her. 

Cher didn't realize how filthy she felt until the cold water hit her skin.

The shower washed away more than just the sweat clinging stubbornly to her body. It rinsed off the sickly taste lingering at the back of her throat, the humiliation, the professor's cruel words that had echoed in her head all afternoon. By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel with damp curls dripping onto the floor, she almost felt like herself again.

Almost.

She took her time this time. A generous layer of moisturizer, lip balm instead of gloss, and the tee she'd stolen from Sunwoo months ago. The oversized T-shirt, hanging off one shoulder, smelled faintly of fresh laundry, and for the first time all day, she didn't feel sticky, sweaty, or dirty.

She collapsed onto her bed with a long sigh, letting the mattress swallow her whole.

Her phone, abandoned somewhere beneath a pile of clothes, buzzed against the bedside table. Cher reached for it absentmindedly, expecting Yuna to update her on Heeseung or a dozen missed calls from Sunwoo. 

Instead, the notification made her pause.

jungkook 

Her eyebrows shot up.

jungkook: you alive?

Cher stared at the screen longer than necessary before the corner of her mouth betrayed her with the tiniest smile. She rolled onto her stomach, pillow tucked under her chin as she stared at the screen. 

sparkles: unfortunately:)

She bit her nail watching the typing bubble appear not even a second later. 

jungkook: good

She couldn’t stop the frown from pulling her lips down. What was that dry ass reply? She was getting major trauma flashbacks. 

sparkles: okay…?

Ugh, she shouldn’t have texted, she should’ve just reacted with an emoji to that. Now, it was embarrassingly obvious she was trying to extend the conversation. 

jungkook: we’ll start the proj tmr ?

jungkook: rest well

jungkook: gardeners are enough

jungkook: dont want the librarians beefin w u too 

Did he just…– what a prick! Did he seriously just quadruple text her... to ragebait her? What kind of psychopath does that? 

sparkles: stfu

sparkles: wait

sparkles: tae’s throwin a party tmr 

jungkook: and ? 

sparkles: wdym and 

sparkles: free alc hello?!?!

jungkook: u lit drink every weekend 

sparkles: so do u

sparkles: ive never missed a friday night:(

jungkook: u didnt miss the bushes today either

sparkles: kys 

jungkook: y u wanna traumatise his gardner too 

She snorted, like actually, out loud.

He was unbelievably annoying. 

sparkles: fine🙄

jungkook: will text u after practice 

Cher tossed her phone onto the bed and groaned, dragging a pillow over her face.

What on earth had possessed her? 

She was really about to skip a party, Taehyung's party, of all people, to spend her Friday evening working on a project with Jungkook. He wasn't just one of her closest friends; he was infamous for throwing the best parties on campus. It was as exclusive as it got. Taehyung was ridiculously picky with the people he invited, and Cher met the coolest people at his parties, too. People practically rearranged their schedules whenever he hosted one, and Cher had never willingly missed a single Friday night, let alone one at his beach house. 

There was no way her friends wouldn't notice. In fact, they'd probably think she'd come down with a terminal illness before believing she'd chosen coursework over free alcohol. 

But none of them worried her nearly as much as Taehyung did. They'd spent hours curled up on his apartment floor just a few days ago, painstakingly curating the perfect party playlist and arguing over which alcohol brands were worth splurging on.

He wouldn't yell or guilt-trip her. No, he'd be far worse. He'd wear that pitiful little pout for days, sigh dramatically every time she walked into a room, and sulk in a corner until she gave in. Cher squeezed her eyes shut. Breaking the news to Taehyung somehow sounded far more exhausting than the project itself. 

an: ik😭 this draft has been collecting dust in my gdocs for months now. i finally found it in me to edit it. pls comment and lmk how this was, ur interaction are kinda the only thing that motivates me atp tbh. also random, im starting to hate grammarly it's pmo, but idk any other good extensions. the built in one in gdocs is as inaccurate as it gets. lmk if yk any good ones.

taglist: @kooko009 @yama24 @mygvior @angelagarvi @jooniesreal1 @sunnnnnhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @4jnkoo @tejal802002 @kkyuclub @prettypeachyplease @mar-lo-pap @viababysworld @ggukcosmos @cupoftaewithsugaandtwokookies @jjeonjjk7 @eeeeeeeruab

[cherricherryy]

New update !

[cherricherryy]

Campus Celebrity || 5

pairing: jock!jungkook x girly!oc

genre/content warnings: smut, grumpyxsunshine, uni!au, popular!oc, consumption of alcohol, ciggs, jungkook is kinda an asshole, oc is a lil bratty and spoiled, oc loves pink a lot, loverboy jjk, yearning, slowburn, insecurities, body image, tw!ED, body shaming, slice of life, some jaehyunxoc

summary: he’s the quiet, untouchable one, keeps to himself, doesn’t chase, doesn’t get caught up in things that don’t matter. She’s the opposite. Cher talks too much, smiles at everyone in the hallway, charming people like she does for a living--a natural flirt. The kind of girl who knows everyone and belongs everywhere, except somehow never quite around him. They circle each other anyway, glances that last too long, tension that builds where it shouldn’t, her pretending he doesn’t get to her, and him pretending he doesn’t care. It works, until it doesn’t. Because Jungkook is running out of patience, Cher is running out of excuses, and when something finally snaps between them, it turns into something messy, consuming, and a lot harder to walk away from than either of them expected.

“Cher, what the fuck?!” 

Cher hissed, scowling at the loud voice early in the morning. Pulling her covers up, she turned away from the bright sun glaring through her windows. 

“Why are you still in bed?!” 

“What the hell, Sunwoo?! Let me fucking sleep,” she mumbled, clutching the pillow tightly around her head. 

“Did you forget that you have a test today?” 

Oh. My. GOD. 

“Shit.” 

 Cher threw the sheets off her body, knocking her pillows down as she jumped out of the bed. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck–” Sunwoo smirked, shaking his head. He glanced at his phone to check the time and then followed her panicked figure pacing around the room. 

“You’re gonna shower? Really?” he questioned, watching her grab a towel off the closet and running to the bathroom. 

“HowmuchtimedoIhave?” 

Sunwoo grimaced, trying to understand what she was saying while she had a toothbrush in her mouth. It only clicked in his brain when he saw her lift her brows at him in urgency.

“You’ve got exactly fifteen minutes–”

“Fuck.” She spit into the sink. Her hands almost dropped the cleanser on the bathroom floor. 

“One day, he’s gonna have enough of your shit and fail you–”

“Oh my god, Sunwoo, shut up!” Cher cried, wiping her face in the towel she brought with her. 

“Get out, I need to change.” When he did make a move to leave she threw her damp towel at him, pushing him out of her dorm room. 

“Ow, ow, ow….” Cher’s face scrunched in pain. She barely had time to look down at the source of the pain before rummaging through her closet. 

“Kim Chaeri?” 

Jungkook snapped up when he heard her name. The professor called out her name a couple of more times, he looked expectedly at the people in the front but they just brushed it off. Only Naeyeon had craned her neck, turning around, squinting her eyes as she searched the room for any splash of pink. Jungkook furrowed his brow, he found himself scanning the front for any sign of her. None.  

Cher would never skip a test. 

Unless– something happened to her. 

Then, his face twisted into something dark, the look of worry melting. He shrugged his shoulders, smirking. 

Why should he care? 

Yet the smirk he had on his face was faltering, he still stole glances, eyes drifting to the door every beat. All whilst he told himself– it didn't bother him, that he wasn’t worried, that deep down he didn’t believe that he might be the reason for her absence. 

Was he really that off putting that she physically got sick after that night? 

Jungkook sighed, startling a few around him. He didn’t care. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, letting his forehead hit the table. 

“I’m here! Kim Chaeri!” 

As if he was a puppet, and Cher the puppeteer– his head snapped up like a puppet would when the string was tugged. Jungkook’s eyes fell on her, and all he could think about was the feeling of her weight on him. Her skin on his, her swollen lips that tasted like strawberry, and all the kinds of sounds he brought out of her. Then his eyes searched her face, like a habit that grew on him without permission. 

Cher has never felt so uncomfortable standing in front of the class, with so many eyes on her and the outfit she threw together in a hurry. An oversized hoodie and pants she grabbed. Her messy curls gathered in a messy bun. She barely had time to apply sunscreen, and lipgloss on her way to the lecture hall. Worst of all. She didn’t have time to shower and she could feel something icky when the inside of the pants rubbed her right knee. 

“Of course,” the professor murmured, frowning. “Take a seat.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Cher bit her lip, occupying the first empty chair she found. She turned around when she felt someone aggressively whispering her name from behind. And, her eyes didn’t stay on Naeyeon who had been trying to get her attention, it drifted past her. Only to find an all too familiar frame. 

Jungkook looked normal. Too normal. He had the same bored look on his face, his fingers absentmindedly tapping on the table. Only opening his eyes fully when the first year girl next to him got his attention. He leaned a little to hear her better– then a small huff left his lips before he shook his head with a smirk that could pass as a smile.  

He was unaffected. Like there was no trace of the event of last night. Like it was just another day he had to get through. Cher didn’t know what she was expecting after she had pushed him away. Just like she’d always known to. Running away, hiding behind excuses because god forbid someone learned too much of her. It scared her. But it no longer seemed like something to worry over since Jungkook barely cared, he didn’t strike Cher as someone who’d be interested in anything serious. She knew the type, there were too many of them to count. Jungkook may be a little better than the others but nevertheless he was one of them. 

“Miss, eyes to the front.” Cher jumped a little when a hand slammed the test sheet on the table. 

“Kim Chaeri, stay back,” the professor spoke, arranging the papers. 

“What the fuck?” Cher gulped before turning to face Naeyeon with anxiety written all over face. 

“I’m sure he just wants to check something,” she assured her. 

“But… he hates me, Yeonie.” 

“It’ll be fine.” Naeyeon patted her shoulder in solace and waved at her before disappearing out the door. 

With a deep inhale Cher took meek steps to his desk. “You wanted to see me, Sir?” 

“Ah, yes.” He rummaged through his brief case – yes, he carried one around and took too much pride in that – and handed a bunch of sheets to her. 

Cher’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. She couldn’t quite understand what was in the paper, I mean yes, she understood it was some virtual layout of their university– possibly a prototype to build a digital twin for their campus? But she couldn’t understand why he was giving her that. 

“May I know what this is, Sir?” Cher asked, her voice extra polite that it almost sounded like an act she was putting on. 

“I would like to ask you the same thing, Ms. Kim,” he replied, formal and cold. The corners of her lips twitching downward at the sudden coldness. 

“What did you think, Ms. Kim, that I wouldn’t find out?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about–”

“I’m talking about how you’ve deliberately picked my best student as your partner so you wouldn’t have to do anything.”

The volume of his voice and tone caught the attention of a few students who were lingering around. Cher saw the students at the door pause from the corner of her eye. Now everyone was staring at her. Her eyes burnt from the humiliation, too taken back by his sharp tone to even deny the accusation. 

“Did you know that you were supposed to submit your project proposal by the end of the day? I highly doubt you knew that considering you’re always on your phone or busy chitchatting to listen to class. Well, I definitely didn’t expect you to check your college mail–or did you ignore it? Jungkook will do it all anyways, right?” 

“N-no, I really didn’t know. It slipped off my mind, I was studying for the test–”

“You could’ve done it after the test but you chose to let him do all the work. I’m not an idiot, Ms. Kim, I’ve been teaching here for ten years and I’ve taught all kinds of students, I know exactly what you’re trying to do here.”

Cher has never hated a professor this much. There were those who looked at her with disdain when she showed up late to class or giggled a little too loudly with her friends during boring lectures– but no one had shamed her for her character. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate here, Sir, but I will clarify this with my teammate. And, next time you need to speak about this matter, please do call both of us.”

From the outside Cher looked unfazed. She walked out with her head held high and a rehearsed smile, a few freshmen stared at her in awe. She was nice, not a doormat. 

What a fucking misogynistic pig. 

Cher was seething inside. His words kept playing in his head and the way his eyes scanned her with judgement. Like she was some pest he found in his precious garden. Her lips gave up on the fake smile as she strode across the hallway, slipping in between crowds like the throbbing pain in her knee didn’t exist. 

Jeon Jungkook is dead. 

He was just like every other guy out there. Her nails dug into the leather of her tote strap. She didn’t care that he was the hottest guy on this campus– no, not when he literally tried to sabotage her. Did she know that he did it on purpose? Not really. But she knew men too well to stupidly, blindly believe that Jungkook was completely innocent. His vengeance could cost her her grades, everything she’s worked for. She hadn’t gotten anything less than an A minus– failing wasn’t something Cher was even worried about. Now she has to, thanks to someone. 

If that wasn’t going to send her down on a trip to crazy town, she had an ugly goblin at her ass who couldn’t stand pretty, confident women. Again, all thanks to Jeon Jungkook. She’s gonna have to come to class ten minutes earlier just to make sure she won't have to deal with that old cow’s bullshit, and more study hours for this cursed course. And every class she’ll need to mentally prepare herself for the public humiliation rituals. 

Cher abruptly stopped in her tracks when she spotted him. Jeon Jungkook, coolly drinking his soda as he stood by the vending machine with – surprise, surprise – a girl. He sure had a type. Cher scoffed, he was all teeth and smiles while he listened to the latter speak. She knew Minnie can be extremely endearing, especially with her honeyed voice and the pleasant chaos she drew in. 

“Jungkook!”

Cher was too caught up in her anger to realise the way her voice cut through the laughter. By the quiet gasp Minnie covered with her hand, it seemed like even she didn’t think Cher was capable of sounding so hostile. Neither did Jungkook. His eyes widened, for reasons more than one. 

She was fuming. Not pouting, not sulking–but shaking with anger. And with the way her eyes were shooting glares at him, the realisation came crashing down on him. But he wasn’t gonna lie that it excited him a little, it sparked a tingle in his spine. It didn’t help that Cher also looked really hot–

And, she said his name. Well, her voice didn’t drip with her usual jollity and friendliness, it was different this time.

With Cher, it always was. Every time they collided, he found something new, something nothing like the campus celebrity, Cher, that everyone knew. 

“Uhh… it seems like you two have something to talk about–“ Minne started, awkwardly glancing between the two of them, “I’m gonna go, Giselle is waiting for me, the cheerleading team has a meet. Miyeon will kill me.” 

“You know how she gets, JK, especially if she knew I was fraternising with her least favourite striker,” Minnie said. It made Jungkook lazily raise a brow at her tease. 

Cher glanced at her once, returning Minnie’s uneasy smile. Like she just caught something that only they knew, a running inside joke that was shared between the ones that made the grass their second home. It hit home. Not the joke, not at the insinuation that Jungkook and Miyeon had history. 

Cheerleading was a sore spot. Cher, since she was eleven, wanted to be a cheerleader so bad. She thought it was the coolest thing ever after seeing Brooke Davis in One Tree Hill, she was her favourite. But she was too self conscious and scared of the stereotypes back then, it also didn’t help that the cheerleading team was always filled with the skinniest girls. When she mustered up the courage it was too late, her limited flexibility had no hope. 

She’s always been an outsider. The cheerleaders and jocks acted like they lived in a different world than the “normal” people. Making friends with the cheerleaders gave her access to that world but she never felt like she belonged. This was high school all over again, her trying to get close to a jock–

Right. Jungkook. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Cher tried, she really did, to sound sharper, more intimidating but it came out as an outburst. A dramatic cry. 

“My problem?” Jungkook scoffed, bitterly. “Right, because I’m the one who ran away.” 

Jungkook didn’t know where the hell that came from, it slipped out before he could hold his tongue. He almost hissed out loud at how pathetic he sounded, his fingers curling into a fist. Just when he thought couldn’t possibly embarrass himself any more than he already did. He was hopeless. 

Cher’s lips curled downwards, forming a scowl, at the absurdity of his words. He was unbelievable. Of course, she knew it. How can his fragile ego handle rejection from anyone? The great Jeon Jungkook who had girls lining up everywhere he went, folding before he even uttered a word. She hated that she was one of them, constantly falling into his trap like she didn’t know any better. 

“You’re the worst,” she laughed bitterly, “I thought you were like every other guy, no, I was wrong. You’re worse than them.” 

“So I’m the bad guy now?” Jungkook scoffed. He really tried to hold back, but he was only human and he couldn’t stand there and watch her run her mouth. Like she was completely innocent and he was the villain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not one of your emotional support boytoys. I don’t go fuck random girls and come coddle you when I’m bored.” By now, Jungkook grew more frustrated, caught up in his emotions to be careful. He never was one to be anyways, this was him. Reckless, confident, and did whatever he wanted to do. Why was he trying to play the good guy? He was never one. This was the real him. 

“How dare you talk to me that way? You don’t even know me, you don’t know anything, Jungkook,” Cher said. She knew exactly who he was talking about. Jaehyun. He didn’t know her but he definitely knew his best friend, and that was a hard pill to swallow. She could pretend all she wants to save face now but he’d know anyway. 

“You don’t know me either. I’m sick of you assuming the worst, trying so hard to paint me as this villain that I’m not. Like you pit me against your little boys and try to convince yourself that I’m the worst of them all. I’m so sick of you acting like I forced you to touch me, like you didn’t want me–what a load of bullshit. Because I know, I can see it in your eyes, I can see that you want me–“ 

“Can you not be so loud?” Cher hissed, looking around and accidentally making eye contact with one of the students who was passing by. The girl eyed both of them with suspicion. “For fuck’s sake, why not use a microphone? The whole building can hear you.” 

“You were literally yelling at me five minutes back, and don’t worry, you don’t need a mic, you’re loud enough.” 

“No, you didn’t just say that,” Cher grumbled, “take it back!” 

“See? You are loud,” Jungkook said, gesturing behind her, “and a real head turner.” 

And she was. People were giving them curious looks, it’s not everyday you catch two people during a heated exchange in the middle of the hallway. What an odd pair at that too? The social butterfly and the grumpy starboy. They’ve never seen anyone have enough nerve to pick fights with Jungkook or yell at him, and Jungkook letting them. He was still standing there, patiently waiting for her to go on, despite all the attitude and yelling. If it were someone else, Jungkook would’ve walked away right after the first outburst. 

Cher huffed, blowing after the strand of hair that escaped the hold of her claw clip. Jungkook chuckled when the strand fell back more awkwardly on her face. Her hasty hand raised less than a second, nimble fingers clumsily tucking the hair behind her ear. 

“Stop laughing!” she threatened him. The angry pout on her face betrayed all her efforts to appear stern and daunting. 

That only made Jungkook laugh more. His head was thrown back, chest vibrating as the sound of his hearty laugh filled her ears. The kind of laughter that formed lines on the corners of his eyes and showed his annoying perfectly arranged teeth. And just like that she felt all the anger leave her body. Her shoulders dropped back down, her features relaxing and the creases on her forehead disappeared. She breathed out, soft, only audible to her. Something gently tugged her heart, it was subtle but she didn’t miss when her heart skipped a beat. 

“Idiot,” she whispered. With a fond smile. 

His laugh died down. 

He froze. She smiled. For the first time today, she had actually smiled and Jeon Jungkook had been the reason why. 

“So… uh, about the project–” Jungkook cleared his throat, schooling his expression back to a neutral one. “I submitted the proposal yesterday, I thought it’d be better if we do it early so if he has corrections he can let us know before it’s too late.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Jungkook blinked. The stiff expression doing little to completely hide the tension in her eyebrows, and the unmistakable frown on her lips. She was upset.

“I was goin’ to but I couldn’t…?” He didn’t know what to say. “I don’t have your number or anything–besides 4am isn’t really the most convenient time to call someone.” 

“I’m your teammate Jungkook,” Cher said, a sigh of dejection leaving her. “We were supposed to discuss that together, you can’t just do everything on your own without telling me.” 

“I know but you never showed interest in this and it’s obvious that this is not really your thing–you dread this course… I just thought, you will do all the talking part I’ll do the project and all the–” 

“Jungkook,” she interrupted, “I didn’t agree to be partners so you can do all the work. I may not like this course but I’m not dumb, I can do my share of the work.” 

Jungkook stayed quiet, thinking over everything, he didn’t consider all that. He just thought she’d be better off without the unnecessary stress, and that she’d be relieved knowing that she didn’t have to work on the project. It wasn’t easy, even for him. But he’d purposefully picked a harder one to challenge himself, and he always wanted to build this. He already had a vague template ready to start working. Besides, professors loved large-scale projects like this one. It was killing two birds in one stone. Except Jungkook missed his aim and hit the wrong bird. 

“And I texted you… I think you were at practice. I don’t know–but you know you can’t just ignore me. I'm still your project partner, I don’t want any personal issues affecting our project. Whatever it is, we need to put it aside and work together. This is really not…“

“Wait,” Jungkook muttered, “you texted me?” 

Jungkook stopped listening after the first few words, his mind going into a spiral. He tried to recall when they exchanged phone numbers. Cause he’s pretty damn sure he would’ve known if she texted him on instagram. She was quite hard to miss. 

“Yea,” she admitted in a low voice, a little embarrassed, “I got your number from Yuta.” 

“Oh.” Jungkook closed his eyes. 

He wished he had Jin to whack him at the back of his head like he always did whenever he was being an absolute idiot. If he was here he definitely would’ve. Jungkook never checked his message app, only had notifications on for their official group chat to keep up with their training schedule. 

“I don’t check texts often,” Jungkook cooly replied. 

Cher scoffed. Of course he doesn’t. She must really, really like this jerk to keep constantly searching for the good in him. She knew the signs, the pattern, the type of guy. After everything he did, everything he was, she should’ve labeled him for what he was. But no. A part of her was clinging onto him, or the idea of him. 

All because what–he was infuriatingly hot even when he was doing nothing but breathing. He also had a strangely pretty face despite being built like Hercules, that she can’t physically stop her eyes from wandering. And the glory. Now that she noticed, everything seemed to revolve around him. Like the universe favoured him. He had it all, lacked nothing and he was so normal about it, so natural that sometimes she felt it was intimidating to even be in his vicinity. 

Then again, underneath the fear, she secretly loved it. When his unwandering eyes were on her. When she was close to him, the untouchable Jungkook who hated having his personal space violated. The same Jungkook who pulled her, and held her like he wanted her to be his second skin. It quietly got to her head, denial was just a façade, an excuse. She was scared of losing it before even having it, Cher couldn’t imagine not having Jungkook looking at her like she was something, something more than the girl that was friends with the popular kids. 

Cher would never admit it—even to herself—that she wanted to be the object of his desires, the muse. To be the owner of the face that he looked for in every crowd, the one that could get him all hot and bothered with just a look. She didn’t care about love and all of that soft nonsense, she just wanted him to want her. But she was afraid, she didn’t want him to wake up one day and realise she was too much. Too high maintenance. Grow tired of her princess act. And see her for who she really was, realise that everything was a concept, the one that she created. Because sometimes, Cher, herself, barely recognised who she was. 

“Oh, you’re so cool, Jeon Jungkook,” Cher mocked, clapping. She didn’t care that she probably looked like a maniac to everyone that passed by–laughing in the middle of the hallway while the latter looked anything but humoured. Though, she was a real sight to see. Hair falling off her poorly held bun, either stuck to her sweaty skin or sticking out like twigs of a bird’s nest. Her eyes were all swollen and puffy from the crying, and her lips were void of the usual pink or glitter. She ate all the lip balm during the test, biting her lips and making the cracks worse. The outfit was just the cherry on top if not the entire cake, the old beaten hoodie paired up with pants that didn’t match. 

“Well, your coolness is gonna cost me my grade, by the end of this semester my barely three gpa will be a two-point-something,” she rambled. 

“Damn, Sparkles, chill,” Jungkook said. “Jus ‘cause I’m a jock doesn't mean I’m dumb. I know what I’m doing, I promise your grades are gonna be just fine.” 

“Try telling that to the professor, he thinks I’m riding off your back and just humiliated me in front of half of the class–”

“He did what?” 

Cher just looked away, crossing her arms under her chest. She wasn’t gonna cry. Again. She did an extraordinary job at holding them in since the morning, she wasn’t gonna break down now. Right here, in the hallway, in front of Jungkook. And she’d never catch a break or hear the end of it if she cried where anyone could easily recognise her. There were enough diabolical rumours flying around about her, she didn’t want to give them a new one on a random Thursday. 

“I swear to God, Sparkles, I didn’t tell him shit,” Jungkook blurted. 

If he was in his right mind and it was someone else, he would’ve thought that he looked pathetic trying to convince a girl to believe him. This wasn’t half as messy as the situations he had been stuck in before, it was simple, as a matter of fact it was nothing. He knew she was being extra dramatic about it all, the professor won’t fail her just ‘cause he doesn’t like her, and  he was famous for hating anyone who breathed, nobody in their department cared what he thought of them. One in every ten students in this university would’ve experienced his rotten personality first hand. 

But it was important to Cher. And what she thought of him was more important to him, despite his constant denial. Jungkook hated nothing more than caring about what others thought of him, he would even go out of his way to show that he couldn’t care less. Yet, he stood there, unable to move as he actively searched her eyes for any sign of trust. All he could see was exhaustion. 

The emotions in her eyes were so raw, this felt worse than letting him see her naked. She felt defeated, and tired, like extremely tired. And nauseous from the loss of sleep, the hours she spent on studying now seemed like an absolute waste. For the first time ever, Cher didn’t care. She didn’t care about how the wind tousled her hair, or if she had any gloss left on her lips, or the perfect posture. She just wanted to go back to her bed and cry herself to sleep. 

“Jungkook, look, I don’t care.” She sighed, letting her head tip forward. “I just want to get done with this–all of this. I cannot have a professor targeting me now…I-I can’t take it, not with everything already goin’ on in my life right now. So just…”

“Mmm?” Jungkook instinctively bent down when couldn’t make out her words. 

“Ugh,” Cher groaned, covering her face with her hands. But she sounded like she was pleading, frustration evident in the way her voice cracked, and the groan followed a whimper. The kind of noise that escaped her without her permission, even she hadn’t registered it. 

“Sparkles, you okay there?” he asked, his hands hovering near her shoulders. He didn’t want to push her further so he kept his distance, for now at least. 

Cher couldn’t lift her head, no, she won’t. She didn’t know what was the last straw but she could no longer take it. The sharp, burning pain in her knee, the hammering in her head, and the knot tightening her throat so hard that she couldn’t breathe properly anymore. Everything hit her all at once, it was a miracle that she was still standing on her feet. And she just had to break in front of none other than Jeon Jungkook. 

God, could this get any more embarrassing? 

Actually it did. A beat later, Cher spun around, throwing her body against a pillar as she puked her guts out. In the bushes. With Jungkook standing there, watching her body jolt forward with every hurl. Her feet moved closer and closer to the edge until she almost slipped and fell into her own vomit before she caught herself. Her back hit the pillar, with a whine. 

If Cher hated anything more than vomit, it was the contents of her own guts climbing up her throat and coming out in a projectile motion. The last time Cher puked was back in high school, when she caught that stubborn cold from passive smoking. 

Throwing up was disgusting and unhygienic on so many levels, but the worst was the aftermath. The weird taste and smell that stuck longer than the sick feeling of emptying her guts. She tore a wet tissue from her bag and aggressively wiped the area around her mouth. Her lips curved into the biggest grimace she’s ever sported when she glanced at the ruined tissue. Cher gagged, before the bile could climb up again, she rushed towards the trash can. 

“Here.” 

Jungkook stood beside her with his hand stretched, she looked down to find a bottle of water in his hold. Cher blinked at him, staring but making no move to accept the plastic bottle. He sighed, opening the seal of the bottle effortlessly. 

“Drink,” he urged, taking her hand in his and forcing her fingers to close around the bottle. 

Cher begrudgingly took a hold of the bottle and drank from it. Her face twisted in candid disgust. 

“You’ll never speak of this–“ Cher fixed him with a stern face. “If I heard that you went around telling people I projectile vomited in the campus bushes, I will shove this bottle down your throat and make sure you can never speak again.” 

“Woah, Sparkles–“ Jungkook snickered. 

“I’m serious.” She glared at him.

Jungkook tried schooling his expression but the corner of his mouth had the uncontrollable urge to twitch. That was when Cher realised, he was enjoying this too much. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him, a comfortable silence grew between them as they just stared at each other. She took this chance to look at him properly, she hasn’t seen him since she freaked out on him. He looked just as good if not better. There was a new ruggedness in his face, she couldn’t quite put a finger on it but there was a visible difference–

Has he been working out more?

That he has been–not on purpose. Jungkook had been spending more hours at the gym than he normally would. Usually, he’d doze off the moment his back hit the bed after practice but these days he had to find a way to tire his body more. Because he couldn’t shut his brain off. It never got tired, it chased sleep away all night and kept him distracted during the day. 

“Well then,” Cher cleared her throat, looking away and winced when the sun hit her face. “I’m going back to my dorm. See you–“ 

“Yea, no,” Jungkook cut her off, blocking her way with his body, his wide shoulders shielding her from the sun. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Uhhh… no, thanks, I can take care of myself.” Cher tried slipping away through the gap between him and the wall but he closed the space. Her eyes widened, she was trapped. Vending machine on one side and trash can on the other, and in the front, him. Her fingers tugged the sleeves of her hoodie until they swallowed them till their knuckles. 

Breathe, Cher– actually don’t. You just threw up. Control! Yes, control– do not touch him, not even a graze. 

“Just lemme come till the building, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Jungkook sighed. “Would you rather pass out on a stranger?” 

Yes! That’d actually be better than–

“This is so embarrassinggggg,” she whined, covering her face with her hands. Too late, the judgemental stares thrown their way were already tattooed in her brain.

Jungkook ignored them like he always did. “Start walking before I drag you there myself.”

What the fuck…

“Ugh,” she huffed, marching past him. Her hands clutched her emotional support bag tightly to her chest. Which was a bad decision because the abrupt action made her head spin a little and the direct sun wasn’t helping either. 

“Slow down, Sparkles,” he whispered. Cher jumped, little hairs at the back of her neck standing up at the feeling of his hot breath on her skin. “Your social status isn’t gonna plummet overnight just ‘cause you were seen with me.” 

Quite the opposite actually. This was going to attract more attention, more questions, more opinions than necessary. Of course it wasn’t out of character for her to be friends with someone like Jungkook, in fact it was very in character for her to do so. They were literally project partners for god’s sake. But she was worried. That this was going to turn out the way the Jaehyun situation did. Cher always made it painfully obvious when she had a crush on someone—the starry eyes, that particular dreamy smile, tilting her head with that smitten look on her face—yeah, it wasn’t exactly the description of discrete. 

“We aren’t in mean girls, Jungkook.” She rolled her eyes.

Jungkook rolled the sleeves of his jacket up till they bunched around his elbows. He breathed out, feeling the summer heat through the material, his hands constantly adjusting the jacket on his frame as they walked. Then his eyes fell on Cher, who was walking just a few steps in front. He couldn't imagine wearing a hoodie that thick in this weather and the dress pants didn’t look comfortable as well, no wonder she was feeling this sick. 

“Can you stop huffing and puffing like I forced you to walk me?” Cher snapped, glaring at him through the corner of her eyes. 

“It’s fucking hot, and my body can’t take this heat. It’s worse than a sauna.” Jungkook ran his fingers through his damp hair, pushing them off his forehead. “Should’ve just taken my car like I said,” he muttered, his eyelid fluttering shut when he felt the breeze. 

This sight of him wasn't good for Cher's already fragile heart. She never thought someone could look so ravishing while covered in sweat. 

Why wasn't she grimacing already? 

By all means, she should've been thoroughly icked out by now. Instead, she stood there shamelessly ogling his annoyed face. Something was terribly wrong with her if she found that hot. But she did, painfully so. Every time he bit down on his lower lip or nudged the silver ring with his tongue, those infuriating dimples appeared. They would be the death of her, she was certain. She had to be sick in the head for finding his irritation so devastatingly attractive. 

Cher wasn't thinking. One moment she was rummaging through her bag for her hand fan, and the next she was holding it up to his face like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Jungkook blinked his eyes open at the sudden gust of cool air, his brows pinching together in confusion, then they met hers. 

Oh. Oh, no. 

Realisation dawned on her. What has she done? 

"Just take it!" she blurted, pressing the fan against his chest. The instant her fingers brushed his, she pulled her hand away. Turning her face, she bit her lower lip and scrunched her nose in embarrassment. If she hadn't looked away, he would've seen the crimson blush spreading across her cheeks. 

"If you say so," Jungkook replied. His voice was light, almost teasing, but the smile spreading across his face made it clear he was enjoying every second of this. 

They fell into step once more, and silence settled between them like still water. It wasn't uncomfortable or eerie, just filled with an unspoken tension that neither of them dared to acknowledge. Especially not Cher. 

After pulling a stunt like that, she'd retreated into herself, suddenly far more reserved than before. Even when she spotted tiny butterflies flitting among the daisies, the delighted gasp rising in her throat dissolved into a small pout the moment she remembered who she was walking beside.

Why was this walk taking so long? 

Cher was convinced the university administration had moved the dorms overnight. There was simply no other explanation for why the walk suddenly felt twice as long as it normally did. The heat certainly wasn't helping either. Between the blazing sun, the hoodie she'd foolishly decided to wear, and the fact that she was already sweating from sheer embarrassment, she felt like she was being slow-cooked alive. At this rate she'd arrive at the dorms looking less like a barely functioning student and more like a greasy rotisserie chicken. 

She could live with looking terrible. Smelling terrible, however, was an entirely different issue. If Jungkook caught even the faintest whiff of it, she'd have no choice but to fake her own death and start a new life somewhere else. Every instinct begged her to wipe the sweat collecting around her neck and forehead, but her pride refused to let her. She'd rather suffer than let him witness whatever humiliating ritual that would become. 

Just as she resigned herself to melting in silence, something cool brushed against her cheek. Confused, she glanced to the side and found the little hand fan pointed directly at her. She stared in silence. Jungkook continued walking without meeting her eyes, absentmindedly holding the fan between them as though he'd been doing it all along. Jungkook remained completely unfazed, looking straight ahead as though he hadn't just shaved several years off her life expectancy with one ridiculously thoughtful gesture. 

“Thanks,” Cher mumbled, flustered and low. So low that she barely caught her own voice and with the lack of response from his side she doubted if he even heard her. 

Cher didn't realize how filthy she felt until the cold water hit her skin.

The shower washed away more than just the sweat clinging stubbornly to her body. It rinsed off the sickly taste lingering at the back of her throat, the humiliation, the professor's cruel words that had echoed in her head all afternoon. By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel with damp curls dripping onto the floor, she almost felt like herself again.

Almost.

She took her time this time. A generous layer of moisturizer, lip balm instead of gloss, and the tee she'd stolen from Sunwoo months ago. The oversized T-shirt, hanging off one shoulder, smelled faintly of fresh laundry, and for the first time all day, she didn't feel sticky, sweaty, or dirty.

She collapsed onto her bed with a long sigh, letting the mattress swallow her whole.

Her phone, abandoned somewhere beneath a pile of clothes, buzzed against the bedside table. Cher reached for it absentmindedly, expecting Yuna to update her on Heeseung or a dozen missed calls from Sunwoo. 

Instead, the notification made her pause.

jungkook 

Her eyebrows shot up.

jungkook: you alive?

Cher stared at the screen longer than necessary before the corner of her mouth betrayed her with the tiniest smile. She rolled onto her stomach, pillow tucked under her chin as she stared at the screen. 

sparkles: unfortunately:)

She bit her nail watching the typing bubble appear not even a second later. 

jungkook: good

She couldn’t stop the frown from pulling her lips down. What was that dry ass reply? She was getting major trauma flashbacks. 

sparkles: okay…?

Ugh, she shouldn’t have texted, she should’ve just reacted with an emoji to that. Now, it was embarrassingly obvious she was trying to extend the conversation. 

jungkook: we’ll start the proj tmr ?

jungkook: rest well

jungkook: gardeners are enough

jungkook: dont want the librarians beefin w u too 

Did he just…– what a prick! Did he seriously just quadruple text her... to ragebait her? What kind of psychopath does that? 

sparkles: stfu

sparkles: wait

sparkles: tae’s throwin a party tmr 

jungkook: and ? 

sparkles: wdym and 

sparkles: free alc hello?!?!

jungkook: u lit drink every weekend 

sparkles: so do u

sparkles: ive never missed a friday night:(

jungkook: u didnt miss the bushes today either

sparkles: kys 

jungkook: y u wanna traumatise his gardner too 

She snorted, like actually, out loud.

He was unbelievably annoying. 

sparkles: fine🙄

jungkook: will text u after practice 

Cher tossed her phone onto the bed and groaned, dragging a pillow over her face.

What on earth had possessed her? 

She was really about to skip a party, Taehyung's party, of all people, to spend her Friday evening working on a project with Jungkook. He wasn't just one of her closest friends; he was infamous for throwing the best parties on campus. It was as exclusive as it got. Taehyung was ridiculously picky with the people he invited, and Cher met the coolest people at his parties, too. People practically rearranged their schedules whenever he hosted one, and Cher had never willingly missed a single Friday night, let alone one at his beach house. 

There was no way her friends wouldn't notice. In fact, they'd probably think she'd come down with a terminal illness before believing she'd chosen coursework over free alcohol. 

But none of them worried her nearly as much as Taehyung did. They'd spent hours curled up on his apartment floor just a few days ago, painstakingly curating the perfect party playlist and arguing over which alcohol brands were worth splurging on.

He wouldn't yell or guilt-trip her. No, he'd be far worse. He'd wear that pitiful little pout for days, sigh dramatically every time she walked into a room, and sulk in a corner until she gave in. Cher squeezed her eyes shut. Breaking the news to Taehyung somehow sounded far more exhausting than the project itself. 

an: ik😭 this draft has been collecting dust in my gdocs for months now. i finally found it in me to edit it. pls comment and lmk how this was, ur interaction are kinda the only thing that motivates me atp tbh. also random, im starting to hate grammarly it's pmo, but idk any other good extensions. the built in one in gdocs is as inaccurate as it gets. lmk if yk any good ones.

taglist: @kooko009 @yama24 @mygvior @angelagarvi @jooniesreal1 @sunnnnnhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @4jnkoo @tejal802002 @kkyuclub @prettypeachyplease @mar-lo-pap @viababysworld @ggukcosmos @cupoftaewithsugaandtwokookies @jjeonjjk7 @eeeeeeeruab

[cherricherryy]

Hellooo please can you help me find a fic if it's not a bother .. it's Jungkook × reader and reader is a new actress and Taehyung is her co star. And Taehyung is Also Jk's friend and Jk is a photographer and Taehyung says to Jk to photograph reader or y/n in the airport because he wants to see what her costar looks like . Reader or y/n also has Jihyo as her older sister and Her husband is Jin . please do you know this fic :(

Sorry luv js saw ur ask. I’ve never read this fic:(

If anyone knows wat fic the anon is referring to pls tag the blog or comment the link pls.

[cherricherryy]

ITS BEEN ALMOST TWO MONTHSSSSS! When is new part of campus celebrity coming?🥹 Love that story very much, checking every day to see if there is any update😫

Awww☹️ im been a lil lot low on motivation lately. I thought ppl forgot abt campus celebrity😭✋🏻 it’s still ongoing, there’s a draft but i cant promise when I’ll post but i will…. hopefully soon….

[trivia-yandere]

when did you get hot? (3)

after the sudden revelation of his 13 year old son, jungkook refuses to let you leave without giving him any answers, no matter how reluctant you are.

word count: 15.004

warning: dirty talking, grinding, smut, cowgirl position, unprotected sex, more yearning jk, finger sucking, edging/orgasm denial, kissing, grinding, nipple sucking, a peak at jimin #1 mc hater, mc is kinda unreasonable but, unprotected sex, creampie,

part one / two

“I don’t think I want to do gymnastics anymore."

The car comes to a stop right in front of your apartment. You slam on the brake so hard that Ji-tae nearly jolts from his seat.

“This again?” you murmur quietly, aggressively putting the car in park. “I’ve already paid for the next few months.”

“Lisa would give you the money back.” your son retorts.

“What’s going on?” you ask. You take your seatbelt off. “You’ve been quiet the entire ride home and now all of a sudden you want to quit?” 

You don’t mean to raise your voice at Ji-tae. It wasn’t him who had you at edge, it was Jungkook. The entire ride home, you had clenched the steering wheel so tightly that you were sure your palms would bleed. Your heart hadn’t stopped beating, either, and all you could think about was the look on Jungkook’s face as the elevator doors closed.

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“Excuse me?” you snicker. You knew sooner or later, Ji-tae would be a teenager. Having a teenager meant dealing with the smart remarks that came with it.

“Nothing.”

When Ji-tae lifts his hand to open his door, you stop him. “We aren’t done talking.” you tell him. “Tell me what’s going on. Do you not enjoy it anymore?”

Ji-tae lowers his hand to his side. He looks at you fully now. “I do.” he says.

“Then why do you keep insisting on quitting?” you question. “I told you I can afford it now.”

Ji-tae swallows. His mind flashes with the older man - obviously your boss - sitting behind the desk. His eyes watching you, and then him.

“Tae…” you trail off. You knew your son enough to know that something was troubling him. 

“Are you sleeping with him?”

The car grows quiet. You’re left stunned - far too stunned to form a sentence right now.

You hadn’t expected that to be your son's question. As your mind races, the pieces slowly begin to work. It explained the look on your son's face when he stared at you, and then to Jungkook. The glare in his eyes…

No parent wants to be in your shoes right now. You feel so small in your son's gaze, one that resemblances Jungkook far too much for you to handle right now.

“You are.” Ji-tae deadpans.

“Tae,” you sigh, closing your eyes. “What-”

“That’s how you’re paying for it, right?” your son interrupts, his voice rising. “That’s how you got this car, too?”

“Tae - Tae!”

You get out of the car just as Ji-tae does. You slam the door behind you, not even bothering to lock it. You follow him right into the apartment. “Stop-”

“If that’s what you have to do to pay for everything then-”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop?!” you hiss at your son, your tone low and full of anger - but not at him. At yourself for putting your son in this position. Ji-tae may be young, yes, but he wasn’t dumb nor naive - especially not how you were when you were his age. He was highly aware of the world he lived in, even if he didn't speak it aloud.

Now, Ji-tae probably saw you differently. 

“I told you to stop worrying about shit that doesn’t concern you!” you continue. Sometimes, you think the way you speak to your son, and the way he responds to you, isn’t that of a mother and son. You could blame that on teen pregnancy.

Ji-tae snickers. “It does concern me. If you’re sleeping with him to pay-”

“Stop.” you hiss, eyes widening at him. “It’s…complicated, Tae…” you take a deep breath. “You’re too young to understand it.” 

You lean against the closed front door and sigh. Jumping into an abyss would be easier than having this conversation with a 13 year old.

“I’m old enough.” Ji-tae retorts. 

You snort. You tilt your head a bit as you peer at your son. You lick your lips, your throat clogging up. 

“I’m old enough to know that you look like you’re about to…cry.” Ji-tae murmurs. His shoulders slump a bit and now he feels remorseful. Maybe he should take your advice and remain his age - a part of him wants to. The other part of him hears his grandmother's words and her condescending tone telling him that you couldn’t afford the luxuries you give him - not without that job. In such a short amount of time, you’ve given him everything he’s asked for and more. You surprised him with a new gaming system, along with the overly expensive gaming chair you’ve remembered him speaking about.

But Ji-tae knows that he’ll gladly give it all aways if it meant you didn’t have to do what he’s suspect you are doing.

“I don’t want you to hate me.” you respond.

Sometimes you felt like it was your son who was the parent. You blame it on you being nothing but a dumb teenager when you had him, forced to grow up entirely too fast that you skipped the pivotal chapters. He was far wiser than anyone you’ve met his age, a trait you knew he hadn’t gotten from you.

“I don’t hate you.” Ji-tae swallows. “I don't want you to be taken advantage of, either.”

“You look just like him, you know? Your eyes were probably clouded with so much animosity that you hadn’t seen it.”

You make your way towards the kitchen. You could go for a drink right now, but you've decided that you’ll have to live with the self-pity for just a bit longer.

Ji-tae hovers in the door frame of said kitchen. He’s silent, replaying what you said in his mind.

“You said you’re old enough, right?” you ask. Ji-tae is eerily silent. “That’s Jungkook. He’s…your father.”

The word father coming from your lips sounds entirely too foreign.

There was a time that Ji-tae had asked about his father. He was only 7, you recall, and older than when you expected him to ask. You thought you prepared yourself for this moment, but even after he has asked you such an innocent question, you were left stunned for longer than you should’ve.

 “You don’t have a dad..” Ji-tae pointed out, his small hand in yours as you and he strolled home from school. It’s an activity he remembers enjoying because it meant you and he could stop for ice cream. It was only when he was older did he realize why you never got yourself any.

You laughed at how blunt children could be. “I do.” you told him. 

“Grandma says he’s in the ground.”

You nodded your head slowly. Your father wasn’t dead, he was just dead to your mother.

“Is my dad in the ground-”

“No!” you quipped. “He’s…just not around right now.”

It was the only explanation you’ve given Ji-tae and even then he took it. He hadn’t asked again, even if you told yourself that if he did, you’d explain it better to him. A part of you wished that you had more time but 6 years was enough time for you to say something to him.

Now, however, Ji-tae isn’t saying anything. He stands in the doorway and peers at you with familiar dark eyes that you weren’t sure you could handle.

“Tae,” you begin. “I didn’t-”

“Grandmother said you didn’t know who he was.”

You roll your eyes, because of course your mother would tell him that. You ponder how long your son sat and thought about you in a certain light.

“I did.” your teeth grits. “And if she was truly paying attention to who I brought in, she’d know, too.” you murmur, more to yourself than to Ji-tae.

 While you were more involved in your son's life - his interests, friends, hobbies and all - your mother gave you the freedom to do whatever. You’re positive she regretted it in the end.

Ji-tae is quiet again, but his eyebrows knit together.

“Whats on your mind?” you ask him. 

“So what?” your son shrugs his shoulders. “Why is he here now? Did he offer you this job out of pity or something?”

“What?” you shake your head. “Tae-”

“He wasn’t around for 13 years, ma. You don’t have to go back and do that-”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your body warms with hot embarrassment at how conscious your son could be. Sometimes, though you’re grateful that he isn’t, you’d wish he’d be like the other boys his age and worry about childish things.

“Tae, stop.” you interrupt. “I don’t want you to,” you swallow, eyes fluttering open to look at your son. Your heart jolts. “hate him.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” your son snorts.

“Because,” 

Ji-tae knows that when you bounce your leg it means that you’re nervous. You always tend to avoid his eyes.

“he didn’t know about you.”

There isn’t any weight lifted from your shoulders like you wished there would be.

“We drifted apart. I got pregnant, and he went to college.” you deadpan. “I never told him about the pregnancy. I never thought I’d see him again.” you admitted. “I didn’t know he’d be who he was today. I didn’t know it was his company I was interviewing for.”

In front of Jungkook, the clouds appear like an ocean full of cotton, the sky a fiery pink and purple. The sun is setting and it glows intensively just outside his window. He watches it from his seat, only blinking when he feels his eyes grow dry.

Jungkook’s mind replays the last 13 years in his mind for any clues he may have not noticed until now. It’s easier to pinpoint when you fell pregnant as it was only one time, but when did you find out? Was it prior to graduation or after?

Ji-tae’s face flashes through his mind. The glaring look that he sends his way is far too obvious that he for one, didn’t know who he was, and for two, held great animosity for him.

Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose and closes his eyes for a bit. It appears that things with you were more complicated than he thought they were.

Just then, Jungkook’s ears perk at the sound of the elevator. “Lei…” he grumbles underneath his breath. “...I have enough surprises.”

Who Jungkook was hoping to see was you. He had gone through several scenarios in how he would approach this.

You were scared, obviously. You didn’t tell him because you yourself were afraid of how he’d react. It’s the reason why, for a while, you kept the pregnancy hidden. There were no records of you giving birth to Ji-tae because they were hidden.

Even if Jungkook was optimistic, there was still the lingering thought in his mind that told him you had hidden the pregnancy for the same reason you decided to ignore him all together. That thought alone plagued his thoughts and feeds on the insecurity he told himself he got rid of years ago.

You weren’t behind the door when Jungkook turns just as they open. Instead, it was Ji-tae again. He doesn’t step inside and the uncertain look on his face tells Jungkook that even he hadn’t thought about what he’d say.

Jungkook peers inside the elevator to find that he’s alone. “Where’s Y/N?” he questions.

“Home.” Ji-tae responds quietly.

Jungkook blinks.

Ji-tae does, as well.

“You can come in.” suggests Jungkook awkwardly. “Does she know you’re here?”

Jungkook’s eyes capture the way Ji-tae runs a hand through his hair before hesitantly walking through the office. Instantly, his eyes soften at the realization that the younger boy knows more than he did when he left.

“No.” Ji-tae responds. “I snuck out.”

Just great, Jungkook thinks. At first, he thought your motherly instinct came natural to you when you interacted with Jinah. Instead, you had 13 years of experience on your belt that gave you a head start. Witnessing the worried expression on your face earlier only told Jungkook that it was a matter of time before you realized your son was gone.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Jungkook rolls his leather seat out and prepares to sit. “She’ll be worried.”

“You don’t have to play the fatherly role.” Ji-tae retorts with a roll of his eyes. In that instinct, he saw you in the boy that resembles him.

Jungkook nods his head gently and says, “Do you want to sit?”

Jungkook motions for the leather seat on the opposite side of his desk. 

“You came all this way for a reason, right? What’s on your mind?”

Ji-tae finds it easier to talk where he’s standing - which is awkwardly by the closed elevator. He doesn’t realize the height Jungkook possesses until he does get closer, or the dark eyes that seem to follow him as he sits down. In that moment, he believes his mother is right about the resemblance he holds to this same man.

Jungkook sits down, as well. His office is far too quiet for his own liking.

“What’s going on between you and my mother?”

Straight to the point, Jungkook notes. Another thing he inherited from you.

“Well,” Jungkook begins. “she works-”

“I know you’re sleeping with her.” Ji-tae interrupts, and that shuts Jungkook right up. “I’m not sure if you gave her this job out of pity or-”

“Pity?” Jungkook is confused now. 

“Yes, pity.” Ji-tae swallows the lump in his throat. “I already told her she doesn’t need to pay for my classes anymore, so you can-”

“I didn’t hire your mother out of pity.” Jungkook interrupts the boy all together with a shake of his head. “I…what did she tell you about me?”

“What she told me is something I’m not sure I believe entirely.” Ji-tae murmurs. 

“And what are you unsure about?” Jungkook leans against the desk.

“If you truly had no idea about me at all.”

Jungkook is taken aback and he visibly winces. Ji-tae bites the inside of his cheek, thinking it’s something he shouldn’t have said.

“As I was walking away she said that,” Ji-tae takes a deep breath. “that you were already accepted at some college and she didn’t want to ruin it.”

Didn’t want to ruin it, Jungkook thinks. His foot begins to tap against the marble floor. His eyes blink a few times.

“Were you two dating?”

Ji-tae knows it isn’t any of his business truly, even if it was the reason why he was alive right now. However, a part of him doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“No. Not really.” Jungkook murmurs. 

“Oh…”

“I loved her.” Jungkook nods his head, leaning back against the chair. He feels exhausted in just a short amount of time. “I would’ve stayed if she told me.”

Ji-tae doesn’t know what to say, but before he has a chance to,  a loud ring sounds throughout the office. Immediately, he knows it’s you calling.

“I guess she found out I’m not home.” Ji-tae sighs, your name flashing on his phone.

“You should answer it. You don’t want to worry her.”

Ji-tae takes a glance at Jungkook. “She’s going to be pissed at me.” he mumbles. “Can you talk to her?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a bit. A part of his heart softens at the request. The other side knows that you would be just as equally pissed at him as you were with Ji-tae. However, Jungkook nods his head and holds out his hand for the ringing phone.

When he answers, you’re already on the other side demanding where Ji-tae was and why in the world he would leave without letting her know.

“Y/N.” Jungkook speaks into the phone. Ji-tae watches as the yelling stops for a moment, his eyes hopeful. “He’s fine. Maybe we should all talk together.”

Time’s were once simpler, you recall, like the moments you’d sneak out with your own friends. 

It’s something you shouldn’t have done, but your mothers disregard gave you freedom a teenager shouldn’t have and you took advantage of it. 

At times, you could feel it; the wind blowing through your hair whenever you drove with the windows down. When you heard a particular song that you’d once belt at the top of your lungs alongside them. You could taste the cheap alcohol that was either stolen from your parents, or liquor stores. Sometimes both.

The first time you’ve been to Jungkook’s house was one of those nights. The streets were quiet as you stumbled into his backyard, a borrowed  pair of heels in your hand. The look on Jungkook’s face when he saw you at his window. “You shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” you recall him scolding you softly, a hand around your waist to assist you in coming in through his window. “You can’t be too loud, my brother’s room is right across from mine.”

You weren’t sure why you made your way to Jungkook’s house. It felt better than going home alone, you thought, or continuing to do dumb shit with your friends that teenagers had no business doing. You dropped your heels and tilted your head at Jungkook.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” you asked. “Jacking off again?”

The redness on Jungkook’s face is something you always found cute. It’s the reason why you often teased him to no end. You licked your lips, eyes glancing around Jungkook’s bedroom. Far tidier than you’d imagine a teenage boy's room to look. “You’re such a nerd.” you murmured to him upon witnessing a tall shelf with comic books and figurines on it.

“I wouldn’t be able to do your homework if I wasn’t one.” was Jungkook’s response. “I wasn’t jacking off.”

Your eyes turned back to Jungkook, his ears just as red as his cheeks. Maybe it’s the booze in your system that has you giggling uncontrollably, a hand over your lips. You plopped down onto his bed, snuggling yourself into his comforter. “I don’t believe you. Other boys are out and you’re in your room fucking your hand. It’s pathetic.”

You never believed your own words. You found Jungkook interesting, which was the reason you kept returning time and time again. It was more than using the boy to do your assignments and projects. With time, you enjoyed playing with Jungkook - if it was forcing him to smell your panties, sitting into his lap “innocently” to the point you felt an obvious bulge, or even forcing him to speak so demeaning to himself. 

However, it isn’t always that. You did like to hear Jungkook talk about things that he was passionate about. Video games, or certain movies - mainly marvel. He’d sit and explain an entire timeline to you that you actually listened to. It made you realize you didn’t have anything like that yourself that you were passionate about. 

“You’re probably right.” was Jungkook’s response. His eyes focused on the way your skirt rises up, his morality screaming to stop being so perverted. It was obvious you were far too intoxicated.

“You’re such a virgin.” you giggled. “Aren’t you glad I've given you all your firsts so far?”

You lift from Jungkook’s bed to face him. He licks his lips, doe-like eyes widening. His heart was pumping in his chest. “I am glad,” he murmured. 

“Say thank you.” your eyes harden a bit, however your own heart jolts, as well. “I gave you your first kiss, right? Your first handjob, too. You should be more grateful that someone like me pities you enough.”

Again, Jungkook’s body warmed. You were always so quick to remind him everything you’ve done to him, even if it was just a secret you and he shared. How could you tell your friends that you enjoyed playing with Jungkook, someone they deemed beneath them? A loser? 

“T-Thank you.” Jungkook stammered.  

You broke out into a smile. It’s low and a bit sinister, but Jungkook still thinks you’re far too pretty and someone who couldn’t do any wrong. “Have you ever thought about…me fucking you, Kookie?”

It’s easy to notice the growing bulge in Jungkook’s pajama pants. It excites you to no end.

Jungkook’s heart thumped even louder because yes, he absolutely had thought about it. He didn’t know what sex felt like yet, but he imagined - with you - it would be something incredible. 

“Yes.” Jungkook murmured.

You laughed.

Your laugh is just as demeaning as your tone always was.

“You’re such a pervert.” you quip. “Say it.”

“I’m a pervert.” Jungkook mumbled. From across the hall, he hears his brother’s tv sounds.

You laughed again. You were too buzzed to handle Jungkook and his submission. 

“You’d do whatever I tell you to, huh?” you tease, a grin on your lips. “I should stop being so mean to you, right?”

Jungkook wasn’t sure where the sudden change in your demeanor went. It happened fast, your teasing and soft eyes, to something more serious. He didn’t have the chance to question you on it before you return back to what you once were. “Take your pants off.”

“W-Why?”

“Just do it.” you shrugged your shoulders.

Jungkook had a lot of memories of you and he drawn into his memories. This moment, watching the way you hike up your skirt to remove your own panties and toss them aside, was one of many. He recalls the way he does as he’s told easily, his cock hardened at just the mere sight of you.

Jungkook remembers the way his bed creaks when you push him onto it and get on top of him, your thighs caging him between you. You sit directly on him, your clit grinding against his shaft. This was the closest he’s ever been to having sex, and he wasn’t even inside of you - that didn’t make it any less exciting for him.

“You don’t have to do this.” was what you hadn’t expected to hear from him - or any teenage boy. “You’re drunk, right?”

You recall the way your nails dig into his shoulders and how wide your eyes got. Your heart had jolted once more, but you were always left confused whenever Jungkook showed signs of genuine concern for you. 

“I’m not drunk.” you murmured to him. It wasn’t a complete lie, you were buzzed, yes, but not completely incoherent. “Maybe I feel sorry for you being all alone.”

It was you who felt lonely after far too many drinks, your mind clouded with the very boy beneath you.

 You press yourself firmly against him. “I left my friends to come here.”

You lied and told them you had to go home.

“Aren’t you happy?”

You didn’t know how you'd act if Jungkook had rejected you fully at that moment. 

Jungkook doesn’t. He tells you that he is happy - and it was genuine. He’s happy that you chose him out of anyone to do this with, even if his cock wasn’t inside you. Feeling your pussy, warm, wet and dripping all over him, was enough.

You weren’t quiet in the slightest, however, no matter how hard Jungkook pleaded with you with fluttering eyes. You were in bliss yourself, your hips rutting, slippery pussy gliding against his hard cock. Your hands tug at his own to touch you anywhere, stating that he should be grateful you were here with him right now.

“I think I’m going to cum-”

Jungkook didn’t mean to slam his hand against your lips, he just didn’t need anyone waking up and hearing you right now. 

What Jungkook didn’t expect was your tongue to wrap around his fingers and suckle onto them, blurry eyes staring right at him. He cums, it’s hard and fast and sticks all over you, but you don’t care because you cum right along with him.

You share many memories with Jungkook, even if your situation with him only lasts a school year. That was the first time he had told you about his college entrance exams, stating that the very next morning he had to take them. You recalled the way he calls you a good luck charm when he places an arm around your waist and holds you close to him, the intimacy frightening you to no end.

Jungkook recalls the way you were gone by the time he woke up the following morning as if a fragment of his own imagination.

Now, Jungkook watches the way his son - it was weird to even think about - eyes stare at the large estate as he drives through the gates. 

Ji-tae doesn’t say anything. He hadn’t said much the entire ride there. Your car is already waiting for them as they arrive and once Jungkook pulls in, you’re already getting out of the car.

“You live here?” Ji-tae murmurs as Jungkook puts the car in park. A part of him isn’t ready to face you.

“Yes.” Jungkook responds. “Are you hungry? Dinner should be served soon.”

Ji-tae furrows his brows. “You have a cook?”

“Only sometimes.” Jungkook admits. “There was no time for me to cook today.” he trails off, because it was obvious. He had to find someone else to pick up Jinah entirely instead of you like she’s used to.

You have to admit seeing Jungkook and Ji-tae together does something to your heart. You didn’t want to face the reality of it all, however, especially when Jungkook draws nearer. “He’s hungry.”

“He always is.” you glance at Ji-tae, who adverts his eyes as soon as you look at him. “I was just about to start cooking until I realized you were gone.”

“We need to talk.”

“I should take Ji-tae-”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Jungkook interrupts. 

You take a deep breath. “I’m taking my son-”

“Your son?!” Jungkook scoffs at your choice of words.

You swallow. “Get in the car, Tae.” your words grit out. “Jungkook, I’ll-”

“He’s hungry.” Jungkook hisses, his eyes glaring towards you. 

Ji-tae has never been in a parental dispute before. In just a short amount of time, he realized he had a father.

 No, his father wasn’t dead. 

Yes, his mother knew exactly who he was.

And he was right in the middle of it all.

“Let him eat.” Jungkook continues. “You and I need to talk.”

There wasn’t any getting out of this, you note. Jungkook’s eyes are hard and staring right through you. 

“Fine.” you quip. 

Sitting across from a child that looked just like him wasn’t on Ji-tae’s itinerary.

Jeon Jinah stares at Ji-tae just as he stares right back at her. His stomach rumbles when he smells the food that the older man - a chef - places right in front of them. 

Jinah watches curiously as the older boy eats as if he hadn’t in days. It reminds her of when her dad eats, shoving food down faster than he could chew. It makes her laugh but just a bit and she follows his lead, shoving food into her own mouth just as aggressively.

“That’s it?” Jungkook scoffs. “That’s all you have to say to me? It is what it is?”

Jungkook’s office is the furthest from the dining area that would grant them such privacy.

“You kept my son-”

“You have no proof that he’s yours.” you deadpan, only because you had no actual argument.

“Can you be serious for once, Y/N?” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You’re actually so fucking selfish.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes glaring daggers at him. “I’m selfish?” you spit.

“Yeeesss!” Jungkook hisses. “What the fuck have I done to you?”

You snicker. “I don’t have time for this.” you wave Jungkook off. You were only willing to talk because it was evident Jungkook wasn’t going to let you leave - and you didn’t want to cause a scene with Ji-tae watching and Jinah close.

Your hands grasp the doorknob to get out of this entirely, but from behind you Jungkook slams it shut. “You’re good for that, aren’t you?” he hisses.

“Fuck off, Kook.” you push yourself away from him. 

“No.” Jungkook steps closer to you. “That’s all you do, Y/N. You keep running. How long are you going to run until you’re out of breath?”

“When are you going to get out of the past?” you question. “You’ve forced me-”

Jungkook laughs in disbelief. “I didn’t force you to do anything.”

“No?” It was your turn to laugh. “Was it not you claiming that you wouldn’t let me leave?”

“You’re changing the subject. That isn’t the point and you know it.” Jungkook barks. “Why are you choosing to ignore the elephant in the room? The elephant being a 13 year old child. My child.”

You cross your arms over your chest. You didn’t have an answer. At least not the right one Jungkook would be looking for. Your body is hot and you were in fight or flight mode - and he knows exactly which mode you’ll rather be taking now. 

“It is,” your eyes look at Jungkook’s once more. “what it is.” 

Jungkook takes a deep breath. His throat makes a noise - a snicker of disbelief. He blinks a few times. He recalls the one and only time he’s ever put a hand on a woman and it was Jinah’s mother - for good reason, he always tells himself. But now, he finds that he wants to do the same to you. He doesn’t, but the thought flickers in his mind. 

“Did you hate me that much?” 

Your hard demeanor crumbles at Jungkook’s words. Even more at the crack in his voice at the end of his question. You don’t look at him anymore, and instantly Jungkook notices. 

“You did.” Jungkook licks his lips. “Whatever animosity you felt towards me, Y/N, you didn’t have to take it out on him.” 

“I didn’t take anything out on Ji-tae!” you hiss, uncrossing your arms. 

“You did!” Jungkook barks back. “You denied him a father, have you not?” 

The way you flinch has Jungkook taking a step back. He swallows the lump in his throat. He has to calm himself down, he thinks. 

“For once, can you just think about how I feel?” Jungkook questions. “To have him look at me the way he did. With such animosity. He thought you were lying to him.” 

You turn away from Jungkook. The study is large with books lining the wall. A studded leather seat sits behind a desk that looks obsessively organized. You don’t care about the study or the desk, you just don’t want Jungkook to look at you right now. Your eyes were beginning to burn and it was you that now appeared utterly pathetic. 

“About…what?” you murmur. 

“About not knowing he existed.” Jungkook grits his teeth. “He thought I abandoned him, Y/N. That now I pity you and-“

“I told him the truth!” you exclaim, still your back turned away from him. “I…I don’t want him to hate you.”

“Too late for that.” Jungkook scoffs. “I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t believe it, either. It still hurts.”

You squeeze your eyes close. You didn’t want to be here anymore and have to face the consequences of your actions. Jungkook was right to feel how he does. You should have told him about your pregnancy. You should have explained it all to him - your feelings, no matter how confused you were about them, your reasoning for leaving him alone entirely. All of it.

And not even just Jungkook, but Ji-tae. You had taken a father away from him. Even if you told yourself you were doing the right thing, it didn’t mean that it was the right thing. There’s a part of Ji-tae that he’s missed out on for so long that he’s told you himself he doesn’t want if it meant hurting you. 

“I didn’t hate you.” you murmur, so low and defeated. 

“You sure?” Jungkook snickers. You haven’t turned around yet. “Could have fooled me. You know…I told you about Jinah,” he begins. “about how she needed a woman in her life. Why didn’t you tell me then? You didn’t think Ji-tae needed a father in his life?”

“Of course I did.” 

Your throat begins to ache and before you know it, you feel your cheeks wet. You were crying, something you didn’t want - not in front of Jungkook. 

“Maybe I wasn’t the father you thought he needed.” 

Jungkook speaks so certainly. He’s doing what he always does when it comes to you. He gets further into his head, his own insecurities speaking louder than you are. 

“What?” You wipe your own eyes and sniffle a bit. “What the fuck are you on about now, Kook?”

“Well what else could it be?” Jungkook exclaims. “You made your choice 13 years ago. You ghosted me and took Ji-tae with you.”

“That’s not true.” you turn around, eyes glossy and red. 

“Then tell me what the fuck is the truth?!”  Jungkook is taken aback by your appearance. Glossy eyes, trembling lips. He realized he’s never seen you cry before - or look this vulnerable. “I followed you around because I was pathetic, right? I did your homework and all assignments.”

“Stop.” you hiss, but he doesn’t.

“I did whatever you told me to do. I touched myself in front of you because you told me to. I smelt your panties because you told me to.” 

Jungkook is now a few inches away from you. He’s angered, similar to the way he was in his office hours ago. 

“I told you I loved you.” Jungkook murmurs. “And still I wasn't good enough for you.”

You push past Jungkook, feeling the familiar ache in your throat. You’re at his office door again - you couldn’t deal with this. Not now.

“There you go again.” Jungkook is behind you just as you peel the door open. “Running away from your problems.”

You don’t make it far out the door before Jungkook is grasping your bicep and yanking you back. 

“Be honest for once, Y/N. Say it.” Jungkook forces you to face him. “Tell me how pathetic I am, again. Isn’t that why you left me? You’ll rather have Ji-tae grow up without a father than for me to be that.”

You push at Jungkook’s chest as hard as you could. His grip on your bicep disappears, but you can still feel his fingers on you. 

“Don’t you think I did it because of you?!” you hiss, pushing him again. 

“Because of me?!” Jungkook’s eyes widened at your audacity. 

“Yes, you!” you bellow. You don’t mean to. The door is wide open now and you’re positive Ji-tae and Jinah could hear. “I didn’t have what you did. I wasn’t accepted anywhere like you!” 

You push him again, but this time Jungkook doesn’t attempt to dodge your attack. 

“I didn’t have parents that cared about me like you did. Do you really think you’ll be where you are now if I would have told you?” 

Jungkook watches the way you cry once more. That was twice in just a short amount of time. You’ve stopped pushing him and instead sob just a bit. 

Now, Jungkook feels terrible. His words replay in his mind and he comes to the actuality of your words. You did it for him. 

“Y/N…”

Your sobbing stops. You peer, through blurred eyes, the look that Jungkook gives you. Instantly, it angers you. You hated being pitied.

“Shut up and don’t look at me!” you hiss.

“Don’t do that.” Jungkook shakes his head with a sigh. “Don’t shut me out again.”

Jungkook wants to reach out and touch you, but he’s afraid that you’d attack him for real this time. 

“Do you really think,” you wipe at your eyes bitterly. “that your parents would’ve allowed you to give everything you worked for…for me?” you scoff. “A slut who got herself pregnant-“

“I got you pregnant.” Jungkook interrupts. “Stop blaming yourself, Y/N. You didn’t do anything by yourself. I loved you more than going to fucking college.”

You scoff and shake your head. “You don’t get it, Kook. Do you really think I wanted you to do that?”

Before Jungkook has the chance to get further into his own head and jump through conclusions, you continue. 

“Do you really think I wanted you to give up everything you worked hard for? For me? 

Watching Jungkok with his family, from afar, was enough for you to come to the conclusion that you’d keep this pregnancy to yourself; at least for now. Even now, you recall the way your stomach sunk at the look on Jungkook’s face. He’s holding up his diploma as he takes pictures alongside his parents. There’s several medals around his neck and even an award in his hand.

Jungkook wasn’t like you - you thought it right there. Jungkook had two parents that loved him. He had parents that were proud of him. His own mother had tears in her own eyes as she stared at her son so lovingly.

Proudly.

“Cheer up!” Ava exclaimed, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. She shakes you a bit. She doesn’t know about your pregnancy, nor does she know just who you’re staring at. “We actually passed!”

“Thanks to Jungkook.” Lia giggled on the other side of you. “College is going to be hard without him. We sure as hell ain't going where he is.” 

You felt your stomach churn at the mention of Jungkook. To your friends, he was nothing but a nerd you used to get what you wanted out of him, and in a way he was. However, you hadn’t told them how your heart felt whenever you were around him. You hadn’t told them how funny Jungkook actually was, and smarter than he even shows. 

Your friends didn’t know about you sneaking away from them to visit Jungkook in his bedroom. How your heart felt as he held you all night - how you wished you’d stay but forced yourself to leave even before the sun came up. 

Your friends didn’t know that you preferred the company of Jungkook over theirs. 

“Yeah.” you murmur. “We aren’t.”

Now, Jungkook stares at you. You’re breathing so heavily and for the first time, you actually feel like just a bit of weight is coming off of your shoulders.

“Look at everything you’ve accomplished.” you wave your hand around at the estate - at everything, truly. “The business. The success. Do you really think you’d have it if you hadn’t left?”

The question has Jungkook stunned. He’s silent, pondering on it. Would he, he thinks, have it all? You were the main cause of his success. You leaving him gave him the drive he needed to be where he was today. It was an action he took to prove to you that he was worthy, even if he never saw you again. 

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, his heart jumping in his chest. 

“No, right?” you run a hand over your hair, chuckling a bit. Bitterly. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, either.” Jungkook responds. “I would have been fine going to community college. Or nowhere at all if it meant I could have stayed with you.”

You feel that ping in your chest again. It’s the same feeling you felt all those years ago while in Jungkook’s room. The way he looked in your eyes and told you that you didn’t have to do this. It’s a feeling you’ve never felt until that moment, you recall. The softness in his voice and the genuine look in his eye. 

“Jinah wouldn’t be here.” you mumble. Jungkook wasn't getting it, you think, or at least not in the way you need him to. 

Jungkook is silent once more. 

Jinah.

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook feels that wave of exhaustion flows through him once more. 

“Stay here tonight.” Jungkook pleads. “And don’t leave this time.”

You knit your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You always leave. Everytime.” Jungkook murmurs. “Like you did the first time. In my bedroom. You leave before we have the chance to actually talk.”

You bite your lip. Now wasn’t the time for you to bottle your emotions and mask them underneath slick remarks. 

“I want us to talk when we’re both level headed. Right now…let’s just eat. As a family.”

Jungkook steps out into the hallway and presses a hand onto your shoulder. He peers down at you, tilting his head just a bit. His eyes are curious. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He wants to ask everything - how was your pregnancy? How did you find out it was a boy? Did you have him naturally? Jungkook couldn’t imagine how you felt in labor, alone without him there to comfort you.

Jungkook’s lips are warm against your head. Your shoulders slump a bit, a sudden calmness overcoming you.

Ji-tae watches from the corner. Jinah is behind him. She’s confused, maybe even a bit upset at how irate her father appeared. She looks up at him with similarly dark eyes, her clothes ruined by attempting to keep up with him in eating.

“Are they fighting?” Jinah whispers. 

“We gotta go sit down.” was Ji-tae’s response just as Jungkook lifts his lips from your forehead. “I bet you can’t beat me to the table.”

Jinah instantly forgets the yelling just down the hall and runs as fast as her legs could bring her. Ji-tae glances back at you - the sight of you and Jungkook. His mind races with questions that he himself wishes he had the answers to. Instead, he turns on his feels and strolls after Jinah, assuring she got to the table right before he had. 

Jinah talks - and talks, and talks. It makes the dinner table feel a bit less awkward. Her main fascination now was Ji-tae - the new boy who was older, but not yet a man like her father. She asked question after question and it’s Jungkook who’s impressed by how patient he was. He answers all of her questions while Jinah sits with dirtied designer clothes and stained cheeks.

You’re a bit amused - and maybe even a little content - with watching Jinah and Ji-tae, even if she doesn’t fully comprehend who he is just yet. She invites him to her ballet recital, stating that he could sit front row alongside you and her dad. At first she was disappointed with hearing “I’ll try”, but it subsides when Ji-tae tells her it would depend if he was done with his gymnastic meets. As if on queue, her - and Jungkook’s - ears perk. The younger girl goes on and on without taking as much as a breath in how she too takes gymnastics - how she flips and always lands on her feet; unlike the other girls her age.

“Can I go?!” Jinah then turns to Jungkook - because she always did. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t get out of him, her matching eyes staring longingly at him until he eventually gave in.

“I don’t think-” was all Jungkook could get out before her eyes began to water rather dramatically. Jinah knew that her father was leading up to a no, and a young girl with a closet just for her dolls, designer clothing and a tea set imported from Europe wasn’t accustomed to anything that wasn’t yes.

“You can come.” Ji-tae speaks up. “On one condition.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief when Jinahs eyes - that coincidently appears dry now - turns to Ji-tae.

“Con..di..shon.” Jinah squints her eyes. She doesn’t know what that means.

“Condition. Like…a promise.” Ji-tae takes another bite of the steak. It happened to be his second plate right when you and Jungkook arrived. “When I come in first place, you cheer louder than everyone there.”

It’s you that rolls your eyes - Ji-tae was always competitive, a trait he didn’t get from you as you couldn’t care less about coming on top. “It’s a local competition, so she won’t be kicked out.”

You learned the hard way when Ji-tae was 10. To think of the amount of money you spent leading up to the competition, you’d be able to cheer.

Jungkook watches the way Jinah lifts her pinky as if she was signing a contract. He glances your way to find you’re already looking at him and he thinks maybe things are going to be alright  - at least in this moment.

Currently, Ji-tae lays in the large bed in Jungkook’s home. He’s wearing headphones, his eyes staring right on the ceiling. His mind is clouded a bit, drifting to everything that he’s learned all in one day. He thinks of your and Jungkook’s conversation that you hadn’t known he was listening to, how you stated you didn’t have the things Jungkook had. He thinks of the pictures that were lining the living room walls of Jinah in different stages - gymnastics, ballet, her first days of pre-school and kindergarten.

Ji-tae even notices other pictures of families, but his eyes don't linger on them for longer than he needed to.

Ji-tae stirs when the dim room begins to brighten. He removes the headphones from around him and lifts up from his laying position to look towards the door. 

Jinah’s so small as she peers in. She opens it more once she realizes that Ji-tae is already up.

She’s holding something in her hands when she comes deeper in. Ji-tae sets the headphones beside him and goes towards the lamp on the end table and turns it on.

“Ice cream.” Jinah murmurs quietly as this was one of her biggest secrets once her father went to bed. She’s none the wiser about the cameras in the home, nor does Jungkook ever scold her about her late night ice cream adventures.

Ji-tae is amused when Jinah holds out the ice-cream for him. It’s wrapped in white wrapping and instantly, he knows it’s a drumstick. He takes it from her small hands. “Thanks.” he whispers to her. 

Jinah settles onto the bed, her legs crossed as she messily opens the ice cream, a few of the roasted peanuts falling onto her pajamas and onto the bed.

You sit on Jungkook’s bed, your eyes lingering on his back. It flexes each time he moves his arms as he dries his hair. You had showered after dinner when he was getting Jinah ready for bed, and as he did, you had spoken to Ji-tae about spending the night, assuring that in the morning you’d get him a change of clothes and her gym bag. 

“I think he hates me.”

Jungkook turns around to face you. You’re already watching him. He thinks you look cute when you wear his clothing, now only being in an oversize shirt as you didn’t have any of your own clothes here.

“Ji-tae doesn’t hate you.” you say to him. “Why do you feel that way?”

Jungkook strolls towards the right of the room and back towards the bathroom. He hands his towel to dry before returning. “I don’t know, really.” he admits. “I might just be projecting. I mean…I’d hate me if I was him.”

“Come here.” you gesture for Jungkook to take a seat besides you. He’s only wearing underwear, prepared for bed. You want to do just that, but you also know Jungkook wouldn’t be able to sleep if his mind was so hell-bent on telling him he was hated by a 13 year old.

Jungkook does. You face him as he sits down, your eyes take in his face, to his bare chest.

You take a deep breath. For a moment, you are both silent. Jungkook knits his brows a bit - it looks like you want to say something, but it appears to be troubling you. There’s a slight grimace on your face.

“I’m sorry.” you mumble.

Jungkook blinks.

Then, Jungkook blinks again. He blinks a total of five times.

 His eyebrows soften. “That took a lot out of you, huh?” he snickers, his lips twitching.

The snarky side of you would’ve snapped at him by now, something that wouldn’t have offended him entirely because he loves it, but you note that it wasn’t the time for that. Jungkook, after having some time to think over your words, had calmed down from earlier.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” you ask. “You didn’t do anything.”

Unless you count the way he spoke to you after not seeing you for 13 years. Or how unprofessional the relationship you and he had as boss and “assistant”. The list could go on - how he talked about you to his closest friends that he met in college, said friends that now despise you without even truly knowing you. How he had resentment towards you that caused him to take it out on every woman afterwards.

It isn’t Jungkook’s proudest moments.

“You had to go through it all alone, right?” Jungkook questions. “I can be upset with you for how things happened, but I can also try to put myself in your shoes.”

You hated being sentimental. It was a weird feeling - different than the sexual tension that Jungkook fucked out of you. That was easier than sitting here right now underneath his gaze. Your throat begins to ache and your heart does the annoying jolting again.

“I would’ve stayed.” Jungkook repeats his words from earlier.

“That would’ve been dumb.” you snort, glancing away from him to further avoid his gaze. “You would’ve stayed with the bitch that used you?”

Your foot begins to bounce slightly.

“You were too kind, Kook.” you say. “You let me use you and-”

“Was I not a willing participant?” Jungkook interrupts you. He leans closer to you, reaching out to gently poke your cheek. “You speak as if you took advantage of me, Y/N. I did your homework because I wanted to. I skipped classes because I wanted to.”

When you finally turn back towards Jungkook, you find that his own eyes are already waiting for you.

You exhale. “I thought you would’ve found a girlfriend in college.” you attempt to change the subject. “Someone nice.”

“I did.” Jungkook replies.

You furrow your brows. “Oh?” you ask. You’re unsure how to feel - even if you know you don’t deserve to feel anything at all. 

Jungkook tilts his head. “Didn’t work out.” he murmurs. 

You swallow. “Why not?”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “She was too nice.” he responds. “Isn’t that fucked up? It didn’t work out because she was too nice?” he snorts. “I was an asshole in college. I’ve built up resentment towards you without even realizing that I was trying to find you in every woman I involved myself with. Too nice, not nice when it mattered, too submissive. I was just never satisfied.”

Again, you feel it. This time, it’s a feeling you’ve felt before when Jungkook, as teenagers, stated that he didn’t talk to other girls; something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“What about you? Have you dated anyone?”

“Y-Yeah.” you nod. “Not long. Only one guy.”

“What happened?” Jungkook doesn’t want to think about someone else having you.

“Stole from me.” you reply quickly. “Called me a crazy bitch on his way out. Stealing from me meant he was also stealing from Ji-tae. After that, I realized I didn’t have time to date. I stopped.” You shrugged your shoulders just as he did. “It’s always just been Ji-tae and I.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He tries to imagine what you’d look like pregnant, even as young as you were. What you’d look like holding a young boy's hands and navigating the world when you yourself were so young.

“This has to be a lot to take in at such a young age.”

You nod your head in agreement. You want to talk to Ji-tae again in the morning. He’s punctual and waking up in a new environment would surely throw off his routine, but Jungkook does have a home gym you were sure he didn’t mind him using. 

You hum to yourself, your mind drifting a bit before Jungkook speaks again.

“I want him to talk to a therapist.” 

You blink.

“I know someone. He’s a friend of mine,” Jungkook begins. “from college. He’s the best in the city, too. I think it’ll be good for all of us.”

You find yourself inhaling again. “I think so, too.” you agree. “Hopefully whatever we say is confidential.” you tease - only a bit, because you did want some form of privacy if you were going to be speaking to a therapist.

Jungkook snorts. “Joon’s professional.” he assures. “He takes his job and license seriously. Plus, he’s a genuine friend of mine. He’s one of the few that doesn’t hate you.”

Jungkook stiffens a bit when he realizes he’s said too much. He watches your expression change for a moment, before it flickers back to the more stoic one he remembers.

“I mean-”

“I know what you mean.” you interrupt. “So…how much of a bitch did you tell them I was to you?”

You’re staring so intently at him, but you appear so calm. Jungkook doesn’t know if you’re upset with him, or toying with him like you enjoy doing.

“Did you tell them how obsessed you were with me?” you murmur. It’s right then that Jungkook sees it, that twinkle in your eyes. “I bet they tried hooking you up with girls, right?”

You adjust yourself to turn fully towards Jungkook, his oversize shirt hiking up your thighs just a bit to offer him a peak of what's beneath it - which isn’t anything at all. His shoulders relax just a bit, his eyes blinking away from your smooth thighs back to your eyes.

Softly, Jungkook nods his head.

Your lips curl upwards just a bit and it excites him. He feels a shudder run up his spine, the hair on his arm rising as goosebumps break out.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

You move fast - or maybe Jungkook just doesn’t care to react. You climb right into his lap, sitting directly against his clothed crotch and he immediately wants to remove his underwear to feel you fully. 

Your hands settle on his chest a bit, your eyes watching the way your fingers trace along the tattoo on his chest. You tilt your head just a bit just as Jungkook’s hands settle onto your waist.

“Did you tell them the wicked bitch from your past return? Or am I a secret?”

Jungkook doesn’t intend to hide the truth from you. “Secret.” he responds. He knows his friends. You haven’t been a topic to them for years now, but when you were they didn’t have anything nice to say. Namjoon, like he stated, was neutral. He attempted to see things from your point of view, even if he didn’t have it. He came up with his own conclusions to not fully demonize you, a teenage girl.

Jimin, however, couldn’t be convinced. Upon immediately meeting Jungkook, the shy freshman with soft eyes that kept to himself, he thought of you as a lion that preyed on a lamb. His attempts in meeting different girls in college had gone down the drain, but it didn’t mean he ever stopped. He was ecstatic in knowing that Jungkook had a child on the way and prayed that it would work out with Jinah’s mother.

It didn’t.

However, Jimin wasn’t one to quit.

Hoseok was uninterested in you, but brought you up the most as the years dragged on. He couldn’t understand how one girl could have his friend act in such a way.

“How would they react if you told them?”

Your fingers tap upwards to his collarbone, to his neck.

“I bet they were hoping you’d get over me, too.”

“They’ll get over it.” Jungkook grabs your hand into his own. He brings it to his lips to press soft kisses onto your fingertips. “They have to, right? You aren’t going anywhere.”

It’s a settled statement, not a question in sight. He’s telling you directly as calmly as he could. 

“What was your pregnancy like?”

You blink.

Jungkook watches the way your expression shifts, your eyebrows knitting together. “My…pregnancy?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods curtly. “Did it go easily?”

The shift in conversation takes you by surprise, but you try not to dwell on it. “Um,” your mind races in order to think back to your pregnancy years ago. “I remember being exhausted. All Tae did was kick nonstop.”

Jungkook wants to envision it; you pregnant, your stomach forming as the months go on. The more he thinks of it, the sadder he gets - as pathetic it sounds - to not experience it alongside you.

“I was always hungry. I thought I’d get these weird cravings, you know?” you tell him and Jungkook listens intently, intrigued by it all while you sit in his lap. “But I didn’t. I would eat while walking around the house because that seemed to calm him down a bit.”

“Did you want a boy?”

Jungkook’s question brings you back to that time all those years ago. It reminds you of how lonely you felt without your friends - without him. All of your doctor visits were held in the next town over to assure - as your mother requested - you wouldn’t be seen by anyone she knew. Almost rarely did she attend with you.

It was moments like that, you sitting alone in the small space, that you ask yourself what it would’ve been like if you had told Jungkook. Or anyone else. 

You stare with squinting eyes at the screen, your heart jolts against your chest at how weird it felt to see the fetus right inside of you. 

You pondered if she was judging you, someone so young and without anyone to accompany her. She was nice, you recall, always smiled at you and even asked if you wanted to know the gender at a different appointment.

You hadn’t thought about the gender much -  not until that day. At your uncertainty, she had given you an envelope and it takes you exactly 2 weeks to open it. 

You weren’t sure exactly what you were afraid of - you were doing this regardless. Did you want a girl? That would be easier seeing as you yourself were one. You knew what it was like to be a girl living in this world. You knew how the world operated - for the most part - and you could teach her things your mother hadn’t taught you. You could show her the affection you wished you had, even right at that moment.

You remember the way you cried upon opening the envelope and reading “It’s a boy!” written neatly on it. You weren’t sure why you were crying. You hadn’t cried in months, but yet there you sat in your own bedroom, bawling at the thought of raising a boy all on your own.

“Yeah. I did.” you answer Jungkook truthfully. “I cried,” you snorted to yourself. “but then…I was happy. It’s just been Ji-tae and I ever since. We grew up together.”

Jungkook smiles at that. His fingers tap along your waist as he thinks about you and Ji-tae - you holding his smaller hands in yours. You holding him to your chest, him learning how to walk and talk similar to how he and Jinah were.

“I know what I did wasn’t right.”

You lean closer to Jungkook until your forehead touches his and your nose glides against one another. Jungkook’s heart races at how close you and he are. It appeared that no matter how many times he’s had you, you always had the ability to make his heart race as if he was the same teenage boy from his youth.

“But…” you murmur. Your lips are nearly touching his. “...I don’t want you to hate me.”

In that moment, Jungkook feels you shift in his lap and press yourself against his (embarrassingly hard) cock. It’s easier to feel you as you weren’t wearing anything underneath his shirt.

“I don’t hate you.” Jungkook answers almost instantly, his lips parting a bit. “You know I don’t.”

“Hm,” your hands trail teasingly behind his neck, and when you do so Jungkook has no choice but to shudder. “I know.”

Your lips capture his and he takes it all in needily. Instantly, his hold onto your waist tightens as you  kiss him, growing more lewd by the second. 

Your fingers trail into his hair, lightly tugging at them as Jungkook’s hands slide upwards and underneath the shirt to touch your soft skin. His tongue suckles onto yours, moaning into your mouth helplessly.

“Where do we go from here?” you say against his lips. Your body feels so hot and Jungkook’s hands on you doesn’t help.

“Where do you want it to go?” murmurs Jungkook in response. 

There’s another light tug on Jungkook’s hair, one that feels good to the touch. Maybe because you were the one doing it.

“I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

Jungkook inhales your scent. It’s clean and simple, nothing too dramatic. He can feel his cock twitch to be free from its barrier and feel you. His hands slide up your sides until they’re right underneath your breast.

“I don’t want you to go.” Jungkook says, pecking your lips, then sending kisses down your jaw. “I want you both here with me and Jinah.” 

You hum, deciding to deepen the kiss once more. Jungkooks’s hands tighten their grip on you, sliding up until they’re gripping your breast entirely. Your nipples hard instantly and you couldn’t help but groan into his mouth.

“You aren’t making it easier for me.” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I think you know what you’re doing.”

You’re amused. “What am I doing exactly?” you ask, but you know the teasing tone in your voice followed by the way you slightly grind against him that it’s obvious. 

“That,” Jungkook sighs. “you’re torturing me, right now. You always liked doing that.”

You did. As much as you enjoyed doing it, Jungkook enjoyed being on the receiving end of it. His thumbs press against your hardened nipples, twirling them slowly, his dark eyes watching you. 

“You’re supposed to be madder at me right now.” you voice. Leaning away from Jungkook, he immediately misses your warmth, but his hands settle on your waist. “You’re too forgiven.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. For a moment, he watches you. It’s hard being upset with you when you’re already in his lap and he can feel just how wet you are, even through his underwear. It makes it harder when he does hear things from your point of view, something Namjoon had insisted he do plenty of times before, even when he didn’t have it. While he went years building resentment for you while simultaneously trying to find you in every woman he sought out, you were raising a child on your own.

Jungkook isn’t sure what he thought your life would be, truly. He assumed you’ve gone to college elsewhere and found someone else as weak as him. He assumed you used your abilities to get yourself somewhere far, far away from it all.

“You’re thinking too hard again.” 

Your voice brings him back to reality. He blinks once, then twice.

“I am mad.” Jungkook murmurs. 

“Oh?” you tilt your head, peering down at him.

Jungkook feels his heart jolt.

“I’m mad you didn’t tell me, but you already knew that.” Jungkook continues. “I’m mad you did it all alone.”

“And what else?”

Jungkook isn’t sure what you’re doing by asking him this. What more did you want to hear from him? As long as he’s known you, there has to be some way for you to further toy with him. He’s sure of it when you grasp the end of his shirt and pull it over your head, removing the last piece of clothing until you’re fully naked on top of him.

“I’m mad you m-made me waste unnecessary time.”

“Did I?” you snicker, more amused by the slight stutter in his words. Your fingers tap along Jungkook’s chest, dipping lower and lower. “Maybe you should blame yourself, too. I couldn’t have been hard to find, right?”

You don’t blame Jungkook in the slightest and you were truly just talking for the sake of it. 

When you read his abdomen, Jungkook can feel his cock flinch desperately. 

“I wanted to.” Jungkook admits, a tint on his cheeks. “Jimin told me not to.”

“Jimin…” you say his name far too sweet for Jungkook’s liking. “...a friend of yours?”

Jungkook nods. 

“What does he think about me?”

Your fingers are now at the band of his underwear, the calvin klein lettering looking back up at you. 

“Jimin…holds grudges…” Jungkook licks his lips. “But he doesn’t know you, just-”

“Knows what you told him?” you finish the sentence. “I’m fine with that.”

Your fingers dig into his underwear and right as you lift yourself off of him, you peel them down. Embarrassingly, Jungkook’s cock shoots up, tip red and angry. 

Swallow, Jungkook murmurs, “I thought about you a lot. But…”

You allow Jungkook to speak. His underwear stops at his knees and he wiggles them off until he’s fully free of them.

“...I still resented you. Hoseok didn’t make it any better.”

You allow Jungkook to speak, grasping his cock in your palm and centering it at your entrance. You watch his face entirely.

“He told me to take my frustration from you out on other girls.”

Jungkook’s lips part, letting out a sharp breath when he feels the tip slide between your lips. So wet and warm, fully engulfing him entirely. 

“Go on.” you encourage, your tone strangely sweet that Jungkook does. “I tried. I told you the relationship didn't work out.” Jungkook murmurs. “Every hookup, all I could think about was you.”

There it was, Jungkook thinks, the twinkle in your eyes as he speaks. He thinks his words are fueling your own ego. Your walls squeeze around the tip immediately as you enter it and Jungkook shudders.

“Tell me more.”

And Jungkook does. He says it all - how he resented you for making him feel that way. How even after years away from you, all he could think about was the way you made him feel. He tells you how he became unrecognizable to himself, someone he didn’t recognize when he looked in the mirror - and he blamed it all on you. Blaming it on someone made it easier for him to get through life, even if he knew that it made him as pathetic as you called him.

Your thighs cage Jungkook in as he speaks, your hips rising and falling. You go faster and faster with each admission, your eyes focusing on the way Jungkook’s flutter and his lips part to let out satisfied moans.

“What do you feel now, Kookie?” you couldn’t help but ask. Your hands settle onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin without a care. Jungkook finds the stinging pain pleasurable. 

It’s hard to speak with the way you were taking him, rising and falling onto his cock so well. Your breasts bounce in his face and it’s right here that Jungkook thinks he’s in heaven.

“I love fucking you.” Jungkook gasps, his hands grabbing your waist in an attempt to slow you down, but if anything it feeds you. You grind against his cock, groaning with how deep inside of you it is. “I love having you close to me again.”

“You sound-”

“Pathetic?” Jungkook answers for you with a whimper. “I know.”

Nothing about what Jungkook was going through - and what he’s openly admitting - was admirable. He was everything you told him he was. And, at the moment, he hadn’t cared. Instead, his focus was on the way your pussy squeezes around his cock so lovingly, sinking him into the pleasured abyss, his tip slamming against that sweet spot he’s grown to love. 

“I love being around you.” Jungkook has to stop you himself by lifting you off of him. His breath quickens and for a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut. He didn’t want to cum - not yet.

“Too much?” you murmur, hovering above him. “Everytime you get sentimental, you act like you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle it just fine.” Jungkook retorts. “Maybe I just want to savor it.” he says.

Much to your dismay - partially - Jungkook flips the two of you. Your back hits the bed, but only a second goes by before he flips you once more, your chest pressed firmly against the bed.

“Knowing how you like to do things.” Jungkook retorts right behind you, and before you could snap back at him like he knows you would, his cock is entering you. 

As if on instinct, your thighs part, needing to feel more of him inside of you. Your lips part and as hard as you try, you couldn’t help the moan that falls pass them.

“Never know when you’ll get up and run away.” Jungkook snaps his hips forwards, a hand falling right besides your head, the other onto your waist to keep you right where he needs you. “You’re good for that, you know?”

Jungkook starts at a steady pace, his eyes fluttering with how well you feel around his cock. He doesn’t get tired of this - of you. 

“Fuck you.” you hiss just as your hands grip the sheets beneath you tightly. 

Then, Jungkook’s pace quickens. Who was he not to give you what you were desperately asking of him? His cocks pumps into you deeply, his stamina never wavering. The sight of you alone has his heart racing. You look so beautiful beneath him, your back arched just a bit, your thighs pushed apart to allow more of him in. It was perfect.

“But those days are behind us, right? You won’t be running anymore.” Jungkook huffs, lowering himself to press a kiss against your back.

You bite the inside of your cheek harshly, your eyes fluttering. Jungkook always has this switch to him. One moment, you’d be in control of it all, then the next he was. It was a healthy contrast to his younger self who allowed you to do whatever. It reminds you now that he was indeed a man.

As much as Jungkook was torturing himself with pulling out right as he was about to cum, he’s torturing you just as much. You’re a trembling mess beneath him, only the tip still in your clenching hole. He’s only a bit smug with how fucked out you are right now, loving the way your body flinches and your pussy squeezes at him, wanting more.

“You look so pretty like this.” Jungkooks coos, allowing his cock to push deeper inside of you and on instinct, your hips buck. A straggled moan passes through your lips. “It’s so different to see you compliant.”

Your pussy is already so wet and with each stretch, a sloppy squelch dances through Jungkook’s ears. It’s something he’d never get tired of. He pushes the rest of his cock in, burying it to the hilt. Your back arches and your fingers are tightly fisted into the bedsheets. A part of you is grateful that Jungkook’s home is as cheap as your apartment. The walls aren’t as thin and behind the thick, mahogany door you couldn’t hear anything. 

Witnessing the way your pussy takes all of him, Jungkook couldn’t help but licks his lips. Your body is so flushed, your thighs shaking and he cannot see your face, but he knows by now what you look like - glossy eyes and fucked out expression; his favorite.

“You tapping out?” Jungkook chuckles, thrusting out just to push back into you once more. He enjoys the sight of your ass slamming against him. “Can’t handle it?”

Jungkook isn’t slow in fucking you this time. He’s tortured you - and himself -  enough. He doesn’t give you a chance to give him a snappy response, and instead beats you to it. Each thrust has your body crashing against the bed, a moan - sometimes a high-pitched squeal - following immediately after. He thinks how perfect you are beneath him - how much he doesn’t want this to end. Your pussy is so wet that it captivates him entirely, plunging in and out of you roughly as you beg him for more - deeper, harder, faster.

You don’t have anything catty to say to the man, nothing besides sobs of pleasures. Maybe Jungkook won this one, you think, but there'll be many more battles that you’ll overcome. Until then, you allow your hips to meet Jungkook’s thrusts. Your pussy spasms, arousal pooling down your thighs filthily.

“Theeere you go,” Jungkook groans. His left hand slides from your waist slowly, leaving goosebumps behind them. He stops at your neck and roughly grasps it and hoists you up against his chest. His pumps don't stop as his lips press against your ear. He nibbles on it teasingly before his tongue licks along it. “I know you can take it just fine, baby.”

From your neck, Jungkook’s hand softens as it glides down to your chest. He squeezes a breast into his palm possessively, all the way his tongue falls to your neck. 

“Feel how wet you are.”

You do without hesitation - another part to Jungkook for how submissive you were being. You’re embarrassed by how right he is, your thighs coated with your own arousal. His cock pumps more out with each thrust. Your fingers twirl around your clit as your orgasm approaches closer. Your body falls limp against Jungkook’s.

Squeezing your breast again, Jungkook grumbles, “You aren’t going anywhere.” 

Jungkook knows that no matter how demanding and monotonous he speaks, deep down, there’s the same pathetic teenage boy you remember. The same one who watched you from afar and wished, that even if once, you’d talk to him again. He needs to hear you say it, so he tells you to. “Say it.”

You let go, juices pulling onto your fingers as Jungkook sloppily thrusts forward - deeper and deeper, hitting that sweet spot so well.

“Say you’re not going to leave.” Jungkook nearly begs into your neck, his stomach forming into knots.

You do, the simple “I’m not going to leave you” that has his pathetic heart fluttering. At that moment is when Jungkook cums, spilling so much inside of you that it knocks him unconscious immediately afterwards.

Jungkook is groggy when he awakes. He isn’t sure what time it is or how long he’s been asleep for - and for a few seconds, he forgets what day it is. Then, nearly all at once, does he remember exactly what’s happened the day prior.

Jungkook also remembers you fucking him to sleep, so much so that he couldn’t do his nightly workout session.

Reaching out his arms, Jungkook feels his heart jolt at how empty the bed feels. His eyes attempt to adjust and when they do, he finds that he’s alone, the large bed holding no trace of you. At first, he doesn’t know what to think or how to react - then his mind jumps into multiple scenarios. 

You left him - again. You fucked him to sleep and took the first moment you could to get the fuck out of there, taking Ji-tae with you. Of course, there’s only so far you could go, but it’s the first thought that comes to mind.

Then, however, Jungkook notices the faint smell of cinnamon. It eases his heart just a bit that he notices that his bedroom door is cracked just a bit. 

Within 15 minutes, Jungkook is washed up and takes the long hallway down to the kitchen.   He hears running water and when he rounds the corner, he sees you.

“Well you’re finally awake.” you say, glancing up from the plates you were scrubbing. 

Jungkook takes a deep breath, watching you long enough that you look up at him and catch his eye.

“Rough night?” you’re teasing him. The smile that forms onto your lips is enough for him to know that.

Jungkook hums, deciding to enter the kitchen instead of lingering in the entry way. His eyes scan the scenery and inhale the cinnamon smell once more.

Jungkook swallows, feeling a fluttery sensation in his stomach. 

You hadn’t left him, he thinks. Instead, you’re still here. You’re cleaning up what was cooked for breakfast, a meal he’s obviously missed, and you’re dressed for the day. 

You hadn’t left him. You cooked. You’re still here. You’re teasing him.

“You made breakfast.” states Jungkook, deciding that if he didn’t come back to reality soon, he’d probably confuse you.

“Your plate’s in the microwave. Didn’t want to wake you.”

You woke before anyone, but you weren’t surprised when Ji-tae was the next person up. You had managed to drive home, grab more than a few items that he’d need to start his own day, before returning. 

Jinah was the next one up. Her hair was a mess and at the sound of pancakes, she’s wide awake. 

“Jinah’s with Ji-tae.” you say as you place a plate onto the drying rack. “I told him he could use your treadmill. He usually runs every morning.”

Jungkook’s eyes glanced around the kitchen once more. He supposed that explains items being out that he’s positive you wouldn’t use - like the chocolate flavor protein powder.

“Is that fine?”

Jungkook blinks back at you. Your eyes are on him, this time scrubbing a pan.

“Of course.” Jungkook responds coolly. “I hope Jinah isn’t annoying him,” he says. He goes towards the microwave and opens it to find the stack of pancakes - blueberry; Jinah’s favorite. “She grows attached quickly.”

You should know, Jungkook thinks, as she grew fond of you quicker than he expected. 

You snicker. You have to admit that Ji-tae fits the role of the older brother perfectly and watching the two of them does something to your heart. It was him who cut her pancakes when she asked and at the sight of Ji-tae adding extra syrup to his pancakes, she insisted that she wanted the same.

“Tae’s fine.” you tell Jungkook. You’re rinsing the last pan. “She hasn’t left his side yet. They actually look so cute~”

Jungkook scarfs down the pancakes when you remember. The two of you remained in a comfortable silence in the kitchen as he ate. You make your way towards the island where your bag sits. You rummage through it.

“I went home while you were asleep. Grab some things for Tae.” you start. “Thought…you’d wanted these.”

Jungkook licks his lips. His eyebrows furrow a bit when you hold up a black album. Immediately Jungkook notices it’s a photo album

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours for a moment. You look…nervous? 

Jungkook grabs the album from your hands. It’s black with a gold band outlining it.

“I know pictures can’t make up 13 years but…” you trail off. You can feel your heart in your chest now. Still, you’re unsure why you’re feeling this way. There weren’t anything but pictures throughout the years, and yet you feel as though you want the world to swallow you whole right now. 

Jungkook opens the album, his eyes falling on the first picture. It’s of you - the you he remembers 13 years ago. You’re so young, he thinks, laying in the hospital bed sporting the gown. In your chest is a small infant, curled up. Your hands cradle him close and at the sight, Jungkook swallows thickly. 

“My mom took that picture.” you murmur, glancing at the photo across from him. “He actually came a few weeks early. I was actually so relieved,” you snickered. “all he did was move and kick constantly.

Jungkook goes through the photo album, witnessing the way Ji-tae - and you - age. First birthdays, to first days of school. Award ceremonies at school, to his gymnastic meets - a sense of pride goes through Jungkook when he notices that Ji-tae was always first in everything.

The most recent picture in there is one of him this year, his final school picture before he’d be entering High School. He stares at the picture of the boy that’s so close to him now that shares the same dark eyes and smile.

You watch the way Jungkook’s eyes are nearly unblinking the entire time, flipping through the pictures. A few of them you explain - like Ji-tae participating in gymnastics, or the time he won so many awards at school that you treated him an entire day at the arcade, something you saved up for.

“Are you okay?” you couldn’t help but ask, causing Jungkook to blink a few times. He hadn’t talked much and now, all he had been doing was staring at the school picture in front of him.

“Is it…too much?”

You were afraid to hear what Jungkook had to say. A part of you feels bad for having him and Ji-tae find out the way they did. You understood the decision wasn’t only yours and in the end, it was Ji-tae that lost out on a paternal figure. The other part of you - the stubbornness that Jungkook knows all too well - doesn’t feel the same. Could you look at yourself the same if you knew Jungkook would have given up everything he worked hard for to stay with you?

You thought giving Jungkook an insight of what it was like, even if it was just a small fraction of it, would be a start. Now-

“You’re all he has.”

Jungkook’s words replay in your mind - over and over again.

“And he was all you had, too.” Jungkook murmurs. He closes the album and finally looks up at you. “I understand now why he thinks I’m taking advantage of you.”

“He doesn't think that anymore.” you protest, but Jungkook cuts you off.

“If looks could kill, Y/N, I would’ve been dead the first time he saw me.” Jungkook isn’t upset, you note. He’s understanding - now more than ever. “He’s just protective over you.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head. “I know…” you exhale. “I don’t want him to be. I want him to be a regular teenager and not worry about anything. But that’s Tae for you.”

“Can I keep these?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the pictures.

“Y-Yeah.” you nod. Your body warms up and you have to look away from Jungkook in order to feel cool again.

You hadn’t realized Jungkook had rounded the island until you felt him. A pair of arms wrap around your shoulders. 

“Kook-”

“Thank you.”

Ji-tae feels like, in a short amount of time, he’s grown well of hiding around corners to listen in on you and Jungkook. He watches the way Jungkook wraps you into an embrace that has you shocked. The way he whispers “Thank you” to you, followed by a “I want us to be a family”.

Ji-tae listens in for a bit longer. He studies the way you couldn’t hold Jungkook’s gaze before you’re looking away from him nervously, but you find his kisses inviting. You tell him that you aren’t sure if it’s something he - Ji-tae - would want so soon. You don’t want to change everything he’s known overnight. “Whenever he’s ready.” was Jungkook’s response. Ji-tae knows that he has to play it cool when Jinah’s feet paddle against the floor, coming closer and closer. When she reaches Ji-tae, her small hands grasp his and she says, “I found you!”

“You did.” Ji-tae hums, a low grin forming onto his lips. “I guess it’s my turn to count.”

“Lei,”

Lei looks up from her computer. She offers a kind smile. 

“Mr. Park.” Lei stands, offering a head bow. “Welcome.”

Park Jimin offers the same smile her way, one that always has her stomach falling at how handsome he is.

“Is Mr. Jeon expecting you?” Lei asks. 

“Not exactly.” Jimin giggles. 

Behind Jimin stands a woman, her arms behind her back as she waits patiently for Jimin. Her hair is a golden brown and through the floor length windows behind her, it appears to glow. She’s model-like, Lei notes. Tall, slender, toned. 

“Let me call him-”

Lei picks up the phone to dial her boss right on the top floor. Jungkook isn’t one to be stern, but he’s made it clear that he would need to be informed before anyone makes their way up.

“That won’t be necessary.” Jimin assures, placing a hand onto the desk. “I’ll give him a call on the way up, okay?”

Lei appears hesitant. She bites her lip, glancing between Jimin to the model-like woman behind him. She knows who he is. After being employed here for years, she’s well acquainted with those close to Mr. Jeon. 

Jungkook and you have been nothing but unprofessional in his office. But you and he are on lunch break so it’s completely fine. You’re seated on his lap now, your once buttoned shirt now wide open for him. Your skirt is scrunched up at your hips. Your panties are soaked as they grind against his hardened cock.

Completely unprofessional for a boss and his assistant.

But it’s okay, because you’re also the mother of his son.

Jungkook’s tongue slurps and suckles against your hardened nipple, his thumb and index finger tugging at the other one. His right arm is wrapped around your waist, his palm directly against your ass, encouraging you to grind harder against him.

“I can get more work done around here if you’d stop trying to fuck me so much.” 

But the way your hands grip at Jungkook's hair tells the true story. You didn’t want him to stop, and neither did he.

“Anyone would be happy to get paid to rub their pussy against me.” Jungkook retorts, popping your wet nipple from his lips. 

Jungkook is right about that, but he also doesn’t have the chance to continue further due to the elevator sounding. He feels his head begin to hurt. 

“How many times do I have to tell Lei?” he grumbles.

It takes you and Jungkook 2 minutes to get situated. It would’ve been faster if the man wasn’t hellbent on kissing you every few seconds, laughing against your lips while you attempted to button up your shirt.

Just as the elevator doors open, you’re already sitting at your desk. 

Jungkook’s knowing smirk drops when he realizes who is behind the elevator doors.

“Well well,” 

Your eyes follow the man that walks through, then at the woman behind him. Glancing at Jungkook, your eyebrows knit. He doesn’t look content in seeing either of them.

Jungkook stands from his seat. “What-”

“You’ve been ignoring all of my calls and texts.” the man tells Jungkook. “Hobi said he hasn’t heard from you, either.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath as he looks at a stern Park Jimin, one of his closest friends.

Seeing Jimin now wouldn’t be an issue, of course, if he hadn’t been avoiding him because of you and Ji-tae - mainly you. 

Slowly, you and Jungkook were growing accustomed to being a family. It took two weeks for you to allow Ji-tae to occupy the spare room and make it his own. The first session with Namjoon was just a week ago, and tomorrow will be the second one. 

Namjoon himself has been sworn into secrecy and had been speechless at the words Jungkook had told him over the phone. At times, he laughs at the look on Namjoon’s face when he comes to his home and actually see’s Ji-tae for the first time.

The events of last month had occupied Jungkook’s time to the point that he didn’t have time to answer Jimin’s blind date requests. He knew it was a matter of time before Jimin came to him himself.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say, standing at your desk and rounding it. Being professional with him is so out of the ordinary that it even surprises you. “should I get refreshments for you and your…guests?”

Jimin turns to you, allowing his eyes to trail the entirety of your body before meeting your eyes. “Hello.” he says, offering the same kind smile to you that he did to Lei. “I wasn’t aware you had an assistant now. My apologies.”

Jungkook watches the way Jimin holds out his hand for you to take. When you do, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Park Jimin,” the man says.

Jungkook watches the way your eyes flash with sudden realization. He licks his lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Park Jimin…” you hum back his name so sweetly that Jungkook knows it’s an act. Your eyes connect with his and you feel like it’s your lucky day. “...I’ve heard about you.”

Jimin snickers. “Have you?” he asks. “It’s a shame. My closest friend has kept me in the dark for months now.” he lets go of your hand and turns back to Jungkook. “So much so that I had to track him down myself.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook sighs. He didn’t have time for this now. 

Jimin’s eyes trail along Jungkook’s desk, witnessing pictures of Jinah, the adorable little girl that has so much of Jungkook’s personality that sometimes he swears she was created in a lab. His eyes fall on another picture, one that has his eyes squinting.

Immediately, Jungkook notices where Jimin’s eyes are focused. It’s of Ji-tae and Jinah, a picture that has been taken recently by you. It’s become one of his favorite pictures with how excited the two of them look holding their own ice cream cones, double scooped with disgustingly good amounts of toppings and fudge on it that it drips down the cone entirely.

Before Jimin can question anything, Jungkook speaks. “Yes, refreshments would be nice.” 

Jimin’s eyes snap upwards at Jungkook, before he turns back to you. Your heels click against the marble floor as you make your way towards the elevator. 

“I didn’t get your name.” Jimin calls just as the elevator doors open.

“That’s right.” you smile, entering the elevator. “Y/N.” you tell him, pressing the button to the lobby. You had to say it was well worth it to watch the grin on Jimin’s lips falter almost immediately at the sound of your name.

so i wanted things to be wrapped up in 3 parts, but knowing me you guys will be waiting for another 6 months LMAO and i cannot have that

@sweetempathprunetree @investedreader @ami-s-k @mar-lo-pap @kurouster @handsomejin25 @glitterkoo @avawants2havefun @chelzaa @strawbi-reads @somehowukook @turboreader @bts-ruu @bts123746 @pinkcoffeehottub @minimoninini @certainuncertainty11n @tastykookoonut @kkjagi @laylajeon303 @kkjagi @hubbytaehyung @seabass17 @pearinwords @krystal-a @j0cgr0c @peach-delight @sawadi-bebe @fxirytaetae @jendeuk123 @babystarcandyrecs @jopewifey @jkxlvrr @apobangpogirlyyy @uwusunwoo @lyssa-otaku @thatsrayllensworld @immalosersblog @llallaaa @seabass17 @ecwipsecoffee @plentysuga @hatdogsss

[cupidsbling]

What you need | J.JK {snippet}

Your bodyguard is extremely overprotective, strict and cold. When you do decide that you're tired of your limited freedom, and seek someone to help with your sexual needs — He feels threatened and decides to help you with all that you need.

genre – bodyguard au, smut, fluff.

pairing – bodyguard jk x rich, bratty fem reader.

warnings in full chapter – explicit language, over-protective jk (he's basically her shadow), he kinda cock-blocks her, oral (both receiving), jk becomes pussy-whipped, he kinda slurps while eating, he nuts in his pants, man-handling, big dick jk, mentions of masturbation, fingering, titty worship, mentions of jk fucking her tits, creampie, handjob,, mentions of multiple rounds and orgasms, a whole lot of smut tbh, etc

wc – 8k+ (snippet is 2k+)

it's your friend's party on the weekend, and you're currently in one of the most expensive stores in town. you've been here for the past two hours, deciding on the perfect dress. Jungkook's now sitting outside the dressing room, waiting for you to show him the next dress.

it's been seven months of this, of him being your bodyguard. ever since your father had decided that his only daughter needed a big, strong, tatted man to keep her safe, Jungkook has been glued to your side. apparently he's the best in the business, he worked in the special forces, has experience in assassination. he's lethal, he's perfect. you hated it, hated him most of the time. but even so, you have to admit that Jungkook is excellent at his job.

you adjust the straps of the dress you've just slipped on. a skimpy red dress that hugs your curves tightly. you grin at your reflection, the dress is short, showing some cleavage, the back dips low. its so sexy and so perfect. not so perfect for your bodyguard's blood pressure though. and that's what makes it all the better.

"are you ready?" you, pushing the door open.

Jungkook is slouched in the armchair. his legs are spread out, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his face. he doesn't move at first and for a second you think he might've fallen asleep. how silly of you to think so, this man barely sleeps a wink since he's always too concentrated on keeping you safe. he drags his hands down his face and looks up, his eyes start at your feet and ascend upwards– up your legs, your thighs where the dress ends high, up your hips and waist where the dress is cinched. his eyes keep going, eyeing your breasts that are pushed up because of the dress. his jaw clenches and lets out a soft curse.

you give him a bratty smile, the one that always annoys him. "well? it's pretty, isn't it?"

Jungkook leans back in the chair, manspreading even more. he crosses his arms over his chest, causing his strong biceps to flex. he stares, eyeing you up and down.

"it's short." he speaks hoarsely. "too short."

you roll your eyes. "to you, everything is 'too short', 'too tight' or 'too revealing'. can't you just admit that it's nice?"

he stands up from the chair and towers over you. you can't help but let your gaze wander over his handsome features, to his chest where his tattoos peek out. Jungkook steps closer, so close that you smell his scent, it's so strong and masculine. it makes you lick your lips. he reaches down to touch the hem of your dress that sits high up on your thigh.

"you bend down in this and you're gonna flash people." he murmurs.

at the contact, your heart does a little flip. you swat his hand away lightly. "well it's not your job to worry about that. your job is to stand by and look scary, while I live my life how I want to."

his eyes narrow, but you catch the way his tongue slips out to wet his bottom lip. your mind wanders off elsewhere, to very dirty places.

"your father hired me because last time you were at a party, someone spiked your drink. so no, you're too reckless to live your life the way you want to."

you hate that he's right. you hate more that your father trusts Jungkook way more than he trusts you. you weren't a small kid anymore, despite the dangers in the world, you didn't need a bodyguard. you've thrown tantrums about it, but every time your father made it very clear that no matter what, Jungkook would be staying.

so you've endured seven months of it. seven months of having him drive you everywhere, having him stay with you at the club, at parties or events. seven months of him shutting down any guy who gets too close to you. one time, he had thrown you over his shoulder and carried out the club like a sack of potatoes when you continuously infuriated him. your friends watched in awe, wishing to be in your position.

sometimes there were nice moments, moments where he drives you to wherever you want to go, when he holds all your dozens of shopping bags, moments like now where he'd sit through your try on sessions and making him rate your outfits. once you had come out wearing an elegant gown and he came inside the dressing room to adjust some things for you. yeah, he's very hands-on with you sometimes.

you twirl slowly in front of him, wanting him to compliment your attire. "come on. be a little nice. is it nice? scale of one to ten."

Jungkook's gazes wanders over you once more. his throat bobs. "nine." he says, simply.

you raise your eyebrows. " a mere nine?"

"ten if you wear it with a long coat. or at home." he says.

you step closer, invading his personal space, the same way he often invades yours. "hmm, it's a good thing I won't be doing either of those things."

he stares down at you. "guys are gonna see you in that and forget their manners real quick." well Jungkook would never let anything like that happen. he'd never let anyone touch you. he's just saying that in hopes you won't wear the dress. the thought of guys ogling over you pisses him off.

"and you don't?" the question leaves your lips by mistake. you regret it when you see his eyes darken.

he leans more, speaking rough and low, almost teasing you. "I don't forget anything, princess. especially not my boundaries. unlike you."

your heart drops and heat creeps up your neck. you have an idea at what he's hinting at, but just thinking about it makes you want to jump off a building. months back, you had understood that Jungkook was too overprotective and you'd barely be allowed interactions with men. so you could never have anyone to satisfy you the way you craved. the only thing you could do to get a release was to please yourself. one night, whilst doing so in the dark with a vibrator between yours legs, you vividly imagined that it was Jungkook doing it for you. he was the most attractive man you had ever seen and as much as you hated to admit it, you had developed a crush on the brooding man. as you reached your orgasm that night, you had let out moans of his name. when you had come down from the high, your soul nearly left your body. Jungkook was standing by the door, shirtless in his boxers, prepared for bed.

you squealed and stuttered, asking him what's he doing here. due to the moonlight shining in your room, you could see him quite clearly. however you couldn't really decipher the expression on his face, it was blank as usual. he replied, telling you that he thought you were calling him. it was obvious what you were actually doing. you knew that Jungkook knew. perhaps some of your embarrassment eased, because upon glancing at his boxers, his cock looked hard as it stood up, a very obvious boner. it looked so long and big. your sensitive pussy throbbed at that, but the moment was too awkward. you told him to leave.

thankfully, neither of you have ever mentioned that night again. until now, until he's decided to hint at it.

you turn away abruptly, stepping back into the stall and slamming the door behind you. inside, you press your back against the wall and clutch your heart that beats rapidly.

when you emerge, Jungkook is holding your pile of discarded dresses, plus your bags from earlier. he looks so put together, despite the two hours of sitting here like a statue.

"decided?" he asks.

"yep. the red one obviously." you say, knowing it's the one he disapproves of the most.

he nods once then falls into step beside you as you walk toward the register. with his free hand, he places a hand on your lower back, guiding you.

once you're all done, he loads your bags into the backseat as you climb into the passenger seat. he gets into the driver's seat, starts the car and pulls onto the road. after a short moment, he glances at you. "home or you got more ways to waste my time today?"

you glare at him. "you're so annoying."

he hums before continuing the drive home.

–––––––

your friend, megan's party is in full swing. everyone's dancing, laughing, drinking. you're dancing with megan and the rest of the girls. you feel great, spending time with your girls, looking sexy in your dress. it almost feels like freedom. almost. every now and then, you look toward the bar area. Jungkook is there, of course. he's perched on a stool, holding a glass of something, just for show. his eyes scan the crowd, the exits and entrances before locking on your figure again. you stuck your tongue out at him once before turning back to dance with your friends.

a couple of girls had tried their luck with Jungkook, beautiful ones intrigued by him. however he barely acknowledged any of them. you had seen some of the interactions, feeling a sense of happiness.

after a long time, you leave your group and head over to Jungkook. without asking, you plant yourself on his lap. it's not weird, since you've done it a few times before. Jungkook doesn't mind it. you loop your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers brushing the back of his neck. one of his large hands settles on your lower back, his thumb caressing just above your ass.

you move your hands to play with his shirt's collar, or to caress his hard chest. you're so close to him that your cleavage is practically in his face, you feel his warm breath fan against you with every breath he takes. for a moment, neither of you speak. he stares at you, wondering what's going on in your pretty head.

"I'm going to the loo real quick." you finally say, "with the girls. we'll be back soon."

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow immediately, his protectiveness surges. "I'm coming with."

you groan and roll your eyes at him. "Jungkook, no. it'd be so weird if you follow a bunch of gurls into the restroom."

"I'll wait outside."

you pout, toying with his shirt buttons. "you're doing too much. seriously. I'll be fine. I've gone to the bathroom by myself millions of times before you existed in my life. just... wait here. please?"

he stares at you for a few seconds. you can see the internal war etched on his features. finally, he sighs reluctantly. "fine, but make it quick."

you beam and hop off his lap. his hand lingers on you for a bit before he drops it away.

"love you for this!" you say before heading toward your friends.

Jungkook watches you go, narrowing his eyes. he doesn't like this – he doesn't like being a part from you, doesn't like the way he let you talk him into staying put.

five minutes pass, then eight, then twelve. he's on edge now, something doesn't feel right. to make his worries even worse, he sees a glimpse of your friends in the crowd again. but there's no sign of you. he gets off the stool, moves through the crowd until he reaches your friends. when the group spots him, their eyes widen. he's the most attractive and alluring man here, so they let their eyes wander over him, appreciating the magnificent sight.

"where she is?" he asks, his voice clipped and urgent.

one of the girls opens her mouth, "she's upstairs with–"

megan elbows her in the ribs, hinting that she should shut up.

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow. you're upstairs with someone? he feels a chill run up his spine. he's a fool, he should've known that you were up to something. Jungkook is already weaving through the crowd and walking toward the staircase. he takes about four steps at a time, urgently needing to find you. once upstairs, he sees that there are multiple doors along the hallway. he pushes the first door open, he finds a couple on top of each other, he doesn't bother with closing it. the second door is empty. the third, he finds a group of guys gambling, they give him an annoyed look but Jungkook could not care about anything else this moment. his heart is beating way too fast in his chest. he opens many more doors, finding no sign of you. where the fuck are you?

finally, at the last door, he shoves it open harder than necessary and there you are. you're sitting on a couch with your legs crossed, your dress riding up even more. you're next to a guy who's got his shirt unbuttoned, he's sitting way too close to you, with a hand on your thigh. your faces are inches apart, as if you're about to kiss. but when you register the door being slammed open roughly, you jump and pull away from the guy.

"Jungkook?" your eyes widen, seeing the angry man at the door.

hi pumkins, hope you enjoyed the snippet <3 you can find the full story on my patreon, either as a product or on my membership tier rkive (comes with extra benefits). you can find it here — What you need.

If you do purchase it—thanks a bunch, I sincerely appreciate every one of you😣🩷

[cupidsbling]

Best mistake | J. JK

Being the heirs of rival mafia families means that you and Jungkook are supposed to be sworn enemies. Yet, as much as you claim to hate each other – deep down, you both know that the feeling is so much more than that. A feeling you both act oblivious to and bury under a haze of lust.

genre – enemies to lovers au, smut, denial,angst¿.

pairing – jungkook x fem reader.

warnings – explicit language, smut, pussy-whipped possessive jk, jk & oc bicker a lot, fingering, rough fucking (oc likes it rough), oc is very vocal (jk LOVES it) , mentions of creampie, spanking, oral (both receiving), titty worship, jk praises oc, squirting, okay basically they're obsessed with fucking eo. etc.

wc – 14k+

you're currently sitting in one of the most grand and luxurious ballrooms in the city. tonight is supposed to be something neutral - a friendly ceremony. one of those where every major family in the underworld pretended civility for a few hours before going back to fortresses to plan their next betrayals.

the jeon family is occupying the left side of tables, whereas your family is occupying the right - as far away from each other as possible. your father is standing near the bar, looking every bit the rich, powerful and dangerous mafia, he is, while glaring at his rival - the head of the jeon family, jungkook's father. who, in return, stares back at him with the same cold, hateful look.

they hate each other so much. if there's a feeling stronger than that, then that is exactly what they feel for each other.

your eyes continue to roam around the room until they find jungkook. he's leaning against a pillar near his family's side, looking so fuckable in that tailored suit he's wearing, with the first few buttons left open, giving you a glimpse of his chest and the ink on his shoulder. his hair is a bit longer than the last time you ran your fingers through it, which you're thankful for because it looks even better than it usually does. 

he looks bored until his eyes find yours. you hate how your heart stutters at the eye contact. it's been three weeks since he last had you pinned against his office desk, three weeks since he had you whimpering beneath him, three weeks since he fucked the living daylights out of you.

you tear your gaze away first, accepting champagne from one of the servers who happens to be too scared to even meet your eyes. every few minutes you would catch him staring holes into you, eyeing you. you knew that he'd be here drinking you in and that's exactly why you've decided to wear an elegant gown that's just a little revealing - cut low at the back with a slit running up your thigh. easy access.

after a few minutes of sitting, you decide it's time to slip away for a little while. you excuse yourself and no one questions it. heirs disappear all the time, whether it's to powder their noses, make discreet calls or converse with family allies, so it's a normal thing to do without getting suspicions.

you walk through the crowd until you reach the long corridor that leads to the private restrooms, inside the women's restroom is pristine and polished. there's a massive mirror stretched across the wall above the vanity. you set your bag down and study your reflection. you look perfect, but still, you tuck a small strand of hair behind your ear and adjust your hair - not because you need to, but because you know that he'll be here soon.

and right on cue, the door opens slowly, closes once he's inside and locks. instead of turning to face him, you watch him in the mirror. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and head tilted, watching you watch yourself.

"still primping?" his voice is rough and a little mocking. "thought you'd at least pretend that you weren't waiting for me."

you roll your eyes at him. "thought you'd at least pretend that you aren't desperate enough to follow me into the bathroom like some horny teenager."

he huffs out a laugh. "three weeks is a long time, princess."

"don't call me that."

"why not?" he pushes off the wall and approaches you slowly. "you know you love it when i call you that."

"i love a lot of things you do with your mouth. talking isn't one of them."

he stops directly behind you, his hands settling on the vanity on either side of you, caging you in without touching you. his scent fills your lungs, something that isn't too strong, but still expensive, that signature smell of his that's grown to give you some kind of comfort you're unable to explain.

"look at you," he murmurs. "all dressed up, standing there and trying to convince yourself you hate me."

"i do hate you."

"yeah?" his lips brush your earlobe. "then why're you shaking? nervous?"

you scoff before speaking. "because i'm imagining all the ways i can kill you."

he chuckles against your skin. "liar."

your breath hitches when you feel one of his hands sliding up one of your thighs, under the slit of your dress, until he finds your core and cups it over your underwear. his palm rests there, making you suck in a breath.

"i missed you," he says quietly,

your eyes snap to his in the mirror. he doesn't have that cocky look on his face. his eyes roam your body with that hunger that makes you feel weak.

"three weeks," he repeats. "way too fucking long."

his lips find the side of your neck.

"don't." you warn.

"don't what?" he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. "don't tell you the truth? or don't do this?"

"both." you breathe out.

"too late," 

his other hand goes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging it back so your head is leaning on his shoulder. in the mirror you watch your reflection, noticing how your lips part and eyes darken.

"look at us," he rasps against your throat. "look how fucking perfect you look with my hands on you."

you try to glare at him, but unfortunately your eyes look more pleading than anything.

"shut up, jeon."

"why don't you make me?"

you gasp in his mouth when he suddenly kisses you roughly and passionately, showing you just how much he's been needing this the past few weeks. you arch back into him without thinking, your ass pressing against his cock through his slacks, making him groan into your mouth.

your hands thread through his hair, angling his head where you want him so you can lick deep into his mouth. he groans again, and rewards you by cupping your core harder, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit causing your hips to buck forward.

"fuck," you gasp into his mouth.

he swallows the sound and kisses you harder while his fingers slip into your underwear. two of them caress your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your clit the way you like. he starts off slow at first then picks up the pace, going faster. you can't help the needy moan that slips out of you and the way your pussy clenches around him.

he breaks the kiss to murmur against your lips. "so wet already. been dreaming about this pussy for three weeks straight.

"oh, shut up," you hiss.

he pushes two fingers inside you until they're knuckles deep. your eyes flutter closed as you let out soft moans of pleasure that become more audible when he starts pumping his fingers inside you deeper. you meet the thrusts of his fingers shamelessly.

"how nice that you're clenching around my fingers in a bathroom while our families are a couple feet away plotting each other's deaths."

again, you try to glare at him but miserably fail when he curls his fingers inside you.

"jeon-"

he pulls his fingers out of you and your eyes open widely at the loss. you whip your head around to glare at him properly now. he just smirks down at you, looking all cocky again. that sight makes you want to slap him and ride him at the same time. 

without breaking eye contact with you, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks your arousal off his fingers. his tongue swirling around each of them slowly. you stare at him. he's so filthy and you love it.

"asshole," you say.

he ignores your rude comment and spins you back around so fast your hands slap down onto the vanity to steady yourself. you're facing the mirror fully now with him behind you. his eyes locked on yours in the reflection again. he doesn't say anything, he reaches down and unbuckles his belt, opens the buttons of his slacks then pulls down the zipper.

you watch every single thing he does in the mirror. watching as he pulls his pants and boxers down halfway. watching as his hard length springs free. your mouth goes dry (even as you mentally salivate at the sight). he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a few strokes, from the base up to the tip, spreading his precum with his thumb. he reaches down between your legs again, collects more of your arousal and uses it as lubrication on himself as he keeps stroking his cock. you clench around nothing just watching until he stops touching himself.

with one hand he reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your hips, bunching it at your hips. the other hand he uses to pull your underwear down, so it pools at your ankles. the cool air hitting your soaked core and the anticipation make you tremble a little. jungkook groans at the sight of you like this -trembling, your ass bare and pussy glistening.

"so fucking pretty." he mutters mostly to himself.

after admiring you for a few more seconds his fingers are on you again rubbing your clit until you twitch and chase the pressure for a short while before he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth again, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction.

"you're disgusting." you whisper.

he leans over so his chest presses against your back and talks near your ear.

"don't act like you don't love it."

you want to say something to argue, but he's right. very much right.

he lines himself at your entrance, sliding his tip inside and pulling out, teasing you (and himself)

"jungkook–"

"tell me you want me." he says.

you bite your lip when he sinks in a little deeper, stretching you open.

"say it, princess."

"fuck you." you hiss.

he lets out a little disbelieved scoff. but pushes in slowly, filling you with his large length until he's all the way in, buried to the brim with his hips flush against your ass. you both freeze, eyes locked in the mirror. both of you looking wrecked. jungkook flexes inside of you causing you to whimper. he stays there buried inside you, not moving, just giving you a stern look.

you put your pride aside and whisper, "i want you, jungkook."

"good girl." he murmurs.

he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. again and again. his thrusting in and out of you drives you insane. your palms slide against the vanity, fingers curling, wishing you could grip on something instead.

"faster," you demand with a sweet gasp.

he leans down, speaking near your ear. "beg for me."

you lift your head to glare at his reflection. "fuck. you."

he grins, knowing his luck wasn't going to work. he gives you what you want. he increases his pace, fucking you with a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the entire time you try your best not to look away from him. you want to watch him fuck and mark you.

his free hand slides up your back pushing it down so you're arching beautifully, giving him a better and deeper angle. your moans and his groans grow louder as the pleasure builds for both of you.

"you feel too good," he pants. "so tight and wet. you've really been waiting for me, hmm?"

"i wasn't." you lie as your walls flutter around him.

"liar." he growls and punctuates it with a hard thrust.

you cry out from pleasure and a little bit of pain. one of his hands slide down to find your clit, rubbing it circles that match his brutal thrusts.

"jungkook- fuck. don't stop."

"i won't," he says through gritted teeth. "not until you're coming all over my cock."

you whimper and clench hard around him. the sensation causes him to groan loudly.

"f-fuck," he grunts.

you do it again. your walls clamp down on him hard making his thrusts stutter. his hips slam forward one last time, buried in completely before he halts his movements.

"stop," he grits out. "stop clenching me like that, you're gonna make me come too fast."

you let out a breathless, mocking laugh before speaking. "poor baby. can't handle it?"

after registering your words, his hand comes down to deliver a sharp smack to your ass. the sting is delicious and causes you to involuntarily flutter around him again.

"brat," he hisses. "if you want me to fuck you properly then behave."

you force yourself to relax, trying to loosen your muscles even though your body is screaming to pull him deeper, to keep him there inside you where he belongs.

the second you unclench around him, he rewards you but pulling all the way out and slamming back in with a force that has your eyes rolling back.

he sets a perfect pace that makes it impossible for you to stay quiet as much as you can try. sweet loud moans and profanities leave your mouth that is definitely audible to anyone outside; "jungkook– oh God–yes right there! – fuck–"

he curses under his breath before placing his palm over your mouth, muffling your loud, inappropriate sounds before you attract any attention.

"shh. you wanna get us caught? want your father kicking down the door while i'm balls deep in his little princess?"

the image of that terrifies you. it would be an abomination if something like that ever happened. your father has been very vocal about his pure hatred for the jeons, including the one currently giving you one of the best fucks of your life. but still jungkook always feel too good for you to control yourself, so unfortunately you cannot help the whiny, muffled moan that slips out of you.

"fuck's sake."

he slides two fingers past your lips, pushing them deep in your mouth until they hit the back of your tongue.

"suck." he orders. "keep that pretty mouth busy."

you obey without hesitation. wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue the same way you'd done to his cock more times that you could count. thinking of the blowjobs you've given him makes you hum around his fingers, eager to feel him in your mouth again.

"that's it." he rasps. "prettiest sounds i've ever heard."

you whimper around his fingers. his thrusts get harder and deeper, making your toes curl. 

after a few minutes, your pussy starts fluttering around him causing his breath to hitch.

"there it is," he groans and picks up the pace even more. "love when you do that. when your greedy little cunt starts begging for it."

you try to speak, try to beg, but his fingers are still deep in your mouth so all that comes is a desperate, garbled whine.

"come with me. let me feel you." he orders.

after the last thrust, you release with a muffled sob of his name. your pussy spasms and milks him so hard he swears violently under his breath. he follows you right after, burying himself as deep as possible and releases inside you until you feel it leaking out around him, dripping down your thighs. his hand goes up to cup your jaw gently, tilting your face so he can leave a soft kiss on your temple before carefully pulling out. you whimper at the loss, he watches himself leaving you as your combined release drips.

"fuck, that's so hot."

you shake your head despite the heat warming up your cheeks at his words. "we have to get cleaned up, jeon. we've got something to get back to."

he reaches for one of the thick towels from the stack on the counter and wets it under the tap. he kneels behind you. the sight of jeon jungkook on his knees in a tailored suit is definitely something out of your wettest dreams.

he cleans you up, wiping between your thighs. he's so gentle it  surprises you, because some seconds ago he was fucking you like he hated you. once most of the evidence is gone, he looks up at you and leaves the softest kiss to the back of your thigh before standing up again.

"don't get used the princess treatment, yeah?" he murmurs, tossing the towel in the bin. "next time i'm leaving you dripping down your legs."

you roll your eyes at him for the one millionth time. "next time you'll be lucky if i let you touch me at all."

"sure."

he turns his attention to your messy appearance. your dress is a bit creased and still bunched up at your waist. your hair looks - well it looks like you've been thoroughly fucked, which of course you were. your lipstick is smudged and your mascara smeared under your eyes. he steps in close and starts fixing you. neatening your dress, adjusting your dress's straps with his fingertips mistakenly grazing over your breasts.

"careful." you warn.

he hums amused and then moves to your hair, combing it with his fingers and brushing a stray strand behind your ear in a way that seems way too tender for people who are supposed to be enemies.

"there," he says quietly, stepping back to survey his work. "you look almost respectable again."

you turn to face him now. he looks delicious. his hair falls into his eyes, lips swollen from your kisses, his collar wrinkled and he's a little sweaty. he looks like he deserves the best and sloppiest head in the world.

you reach up without thinking, straighten his collar and smooth his shirt. before you can pull away, he catches your wrist and holds it there, near his chest.

"why're you looking at me like that, hmm?" he asks, staring down at you.

"like what?"

"like you want me to take you again. i will if you want me to."

you yank your hand free from his hold. "in your dreams, jeon."

"yeah, almost every night." he shoots back with a smirk.

you ignore his statement, despite the wanted eruption of butterflies you feel in your stomach. jungkook checks his watch with a sigh.

"we've been gone too long already." he says.

"you go first. i'll wait for a while then come out."

he nods before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. he gives you a little smirk then slips out the door. you give it at least two minutes before exiting the bathroom and slipping back into the hallway.

once you get back to your family's table you take your seat next to your mother, softly wincing at the dull, delicious ache between your legs. your mother turns to you immediately, her eyebrows knitting.

"what took you so long?" she asks while her eyes inspect you. "and your hair... it's a mess. are you alright?"

you force a smile. "i wasn't feeling well. must be the champagne and all the people. i needed a minute to breathe."

she studies you for another few seconds before her face softens. "poor thing. we won't stay much longer, i promise. your father's already been itching to leave anyway."

she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "you sure you're okay?"

"fine, mom, really."

she squeezes your hair once then turns back to whatever conversation she was having before you came. across the room, you see jungkook at his table again. he's sitting with his legs spread and an arm draped over the back of another chair. he looks so hot, still so fuckable, you wish you had agreed to let him take you again.

a server places a dish in front of him. a large piece of steak with some vegetables on the side. he picks up his fork and knife and digs in as if he hadn't just fucked his sworn enemy senseless in a bathroom minutes ago. 

you've grown to learn that jungkook loves food, he loves eating. loves the way food feels on his tongue, loves the flavours, loves everything about it. but you've also grown to learn that if there's anything he loves to eat more than food - it's you.

you can't help but think about how he devours you like he's a starved man, instead of the rich, cocky bastard he usually is. the way he feasts on you, holding your thighs spread open until you're crying, shaking and begging him to stop but also to keep going.

your whole body heats up traitorously fast. damn jungkook and the stupid effect he has on you.

•───୨୧───•

a week passes by slowly, excruciatingly slow. all because it's been seven days of radio silence between you and jungkook. no messages, no random calls ending with you two having phone sex, no nothing. not that you really expected anything else, that was the deal. fuck and forget and hate each other. except this time you can't find yourself enjoying the last two very much.

you've spent most of the week locked in your own head, isolated in your fortress of an apartment. the one your father spent hundreds of thousands on. another one of the luxuries in your life that's starting to feel like a cage.

your parents love you, you know that, it's unquestionable. but love, in your family comes with terms and conditions. because your mother had complications getting pregnant again, you're an only child. the sole heir, the future of an empire that's built on money and dead bodies. you have a lot of expectations. one day the power will be yours, whether you want it or not.

and of course, you do not want it.

you want something better, something that actually makes you happy, something that's nothing like the obligations you're forced to have. 

you want to write, live in your head and put your wildest thoughts on a piece of paper. you want to express all the thoughts you've never gotten to word into a book - every fantasy you've lived, every fantasy you have yet to live. it's all you ever wanted since you were a little girl.

you've majored in literature at a university your father only tolerated because it was an ivy league and it looked good on paper.

even in your free time, writing feels like the only thing that allows you to be your true self. so when you can, you write. most of the stories you write about one specific person you despise. jungkook. he's such an interesting source of inspiration for you, especially in all of the erotic stories you write. well of course he would be. that man gives you the time of your life every time his dick is buried deep inside you.

But your dreams and ambitions don't really matter. Because at the end of the day, your parents want security, powerful alliances and legacy. And lately whenever you were alone with your parents they started dropping hints.

"Have you ever thought about settling down?" your mother would casually ask.

Your father would nod before adding on. "There are good guys out there. Sons of men we trust. Strong families. It would solidify things."

They didn't name anyone yet, but you knew many of their friends from over the years. They were all powerful, all of them safe for you. All of them so fucking boring you wanted to scream.

You didn't argue with them because you didn't think you had a right to. You have to please your parents no matter what. Even if it means putting your own happiness on the line.

So you spent the next week in your own isolated bubble - writing whatever came to mind, treating yourself to whatever you wanted, ignoring the ache between your legs that could go away if you had Jungkook.

By saturday morning you still weren't feeling too good. Which is why you've decided to text your best friend Megan for a little spa day - which of course, she immediately agreed to.

After the most relaxing day of facials, body scrubs, massages, manicures and pedicures - you and Megan are finally feeling surreal, chilling in a jacuzzi. After a while of silence, Megan turns her head to look at you.

"You've been rather quiet today. What's up?" she asks.

"I'm always quiet."

"Not like this." she nudges your foot under the warm water with her own. "Something's on your mind. I can see you're thinking too hard."

"I'm just tired." you lie.

"bullshit .

You crack one eye open, noticing that she's watching you. Who are you kidding? This is Megan, your best friend of over nineteen years. If something's wrong with you, she'd definitely know.

You let out a defeated sigh. "It's a lot." you admit. "The empire, the expectations

. And there's - the rest of it,"

"The rest of it being your extremely hot, extremely forbidden hate sex situationship with Jeon Jungkook.?"

You groan and give her an annoyed look. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting. I'm just stating facts." she gives you a small smirk. "You two still pretend you hate each other's guts while simultaneously trying to break each others's pelvis everytime there's a gala?"

You glare at her. "I do hate him."

"Mmh."

"I can't stand him."

"Sure."

"He's arrogant, stupid, fucking annoying-"

"That's funny, you say." Megan cuts in. "You light up like a Christmas tree the second his name comes up."

You open your mouth, close it then open it again. "I only need his dick." you force the words out, knowing that they might not be entirely true. "That's it. Hate fuck. No feelings. No complications."

"It's okay to want more than that, you know." she says softly.

"I don't want more. I just want to write. I want to be free. I want to be... happy,"

Megan reaches over and squeezes your shoulder. "It's okay, y/n. You're allowed to want all of that. You shouldn't be forced to do anything you don't want to."

You swallow a little lump forming in your throat. "They think marriage will fix everything and we'll have more power. They haven't said it yet but I can feel it coming."

"So what're you gonna do when they pick someone?" Megan asks softly.''

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to learn to live with it." you let out a bitter laugh.

She doesn't say anything, silence sits between the two of you for a minute before she bumps her shoulder with yours.

"Jungkook's not on that list, is he?"

You grin in disbelief. "Definitely not. My father would sooner shoot him than shake his hand."

"You're not gonna miss him afterwards?"

You don't answer her right away. Because if you had again, it would taste too bitter. Would you miss Jungkook? You're not just scared to admit the truth to Megan, you're afraid to admit the truth to yourself as well. The ugly truth that's been developing for the past few months.

"That doesn't matter."

Megan smiles sadly. "You're gonna be okay."

You lean in closer and lay your head on her shoulder, feeling relieved that you've finally gotten some things off your chest,

•───୨୧───•

Once you get into your apartment, you kick off your shoes by the door and take off your coat, dropping it somewhere. With a loud sigh, you head straight towards the bar cabinet and grab the most expensive wine you have and pour a generous glass.

As you sip on the wine, you think to yourself. You don't want to marry some stranger. Wake up next to someone you know absolutely nothing about. Be with a person whose touch would feel foreign to you. Someone who would be polite with you, instead of the possessiveness you're now used to.

But, at the same time, you don't want to disappoint your parents. Legacy means everything to them, so you're not going to let them down. Even if it means spending the rest of your life being a miserable trophy married to a business partner.

Just as most times when you're feeling stressed or uneasy, your mind wanders off to Jungkook. How addictive his touches are. How rough he can be, yet so gentle. How he fucks you so good, you can't think of anyone else but him.

You want him here right now. Want him to shove you against the nearest surface, wrap your legs around his waist and fuck every last coherent thought out your head. You want him here to make you forget all about the weight of the crowns you never asked for...

You set the wine glass down and pick up your phone, opening your messages with him. Most of the texts are filthy things - provocative, sexy pictures sent to each other. Coordinates for hookup spots. Before you can think yourself out of it, you're typing a message

You : you busy tonight?

The three dots appear almost immediately,

Jungkook : yeah. Got things to handle til late.

After reading his message you let out a highly frustrated groan and carelessly toss your phone onto the couch.

"Fucking asshole. Busy when I need something."

You gulp down a huge sip of wine before you end up cursing him out.

You love sex, love the intimacy of it, love the way it feels, love absolutely everything about it. You've always been a rather needy woman, always. And when things first happened with Jungkook, your needs had become even more unbearable.

The first time with him happened almost a year ago. You were both dealing with business when something went wrong for both of you. You both ended up hurt, cornered somewhere with nowhere to go - stuck with each other.

The details of what happened that night is a story for another time ;) But somehow, for some reason, Jeon Jungkook had ended up kissing you. For unknown reasons you had started kissing him back. You kissed each other as if you were fighting, tongues colliding together, teeth clashing,saliva dripping down your chins.

Soon enough clothes were getting pulled off, bodies were gettting marked up and you were moaning the name you despised the most as he gave you the best orgasms of your life.

Since then, the two of you had made it a thing. Instead of killing each other, you used each other - fucking where you could - in his car, in yours, in private jets, in warehouses, in hotels he'd book.

The sex you have with Jungkook was undoubtedly the best thing you could ever experience. He's perfect when it comes to giving you a good time. He loves when you ride his face, loves eating you out until you're oversensitive and screaming his name, loves fucking you good and edging you until you're crying, creampies he'd finger back inside you while whispering the filthiest things in your ear. There are so many things that you and him have tried and have yet to try, and the thought of that excites you every single time.

You're certain Jungkook loves this as much as you do, if not, he loves it even more than you do. He is pussy-whipped for you. You can tell by the way he moans when he sinks into you, the way he messages you at the oddest hours to tell you how horny he is thinking about you, the way he usually cancels everything if you send him something provocative, and so much more.

It's just a mutual hate-addiction thing between the two of you. You hate his guts. You tell yourself that every time you come around his cock. And anyways, he's just a cocky bastard who loves to get under your skin, especially when he teases you about your 'princess' status even when he's balls deep inside you.

You want to kill him sometimes, strangle him with your bare hands, shoot him - anything.

But there's another part of you that hated those thoughts (even though you'd probably wouldn't actually kill him). Sometimes you thought to yourself; What if you don't actually hate him? "What if you and him actually got to know each other? What if there could be something more between you two?

You push the thoughts away, drinking some more wine. Jungkook's a good fuck. The best fuck. You don't need more, neither do you want more. You just need him to relieve your stress and give you pleasure. But unfortunately, tonight he isn't coming.

You walk to your bedroom, lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling, trying not to think about how empty your bed feels since Jungkook isn't in it. You try not to imagine him on top of you, pinning you down, kissing while promising to fuck you exactly how you like it...

•───୨୧───•

The next few days go by quickly. You haven't done much, since there wasn't a lot for you to do - other than a few errands your parents asked you to handle, or random outings with Megan.

It's been a bit boring, but rather peaceful and relaxing, the only thing that had been worrying you was the fact that you had no messages from Jungkook. Not a single text asking to see you, not a single picture from him, not even a single voice note. Usually he'd reach out at least once or twice a week, sometimes more if the week had been boring. But now there's been nothing but silence.

Throughout these days you've tried to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, you don't even care. He's busy, he's an asshole, maybe he's got his dick up someone else. It's fine. Good for him. It doesn't bother you. You don't need him.

Except you do need him. And that's been abundantly clear every time you touched yourself and failed to bring to yourself even a quarter of the pleasure he brings to you.

By Thursday evening you were feeling rather miserable, and to make your matters worse, your phone buzzed with a message.

Mother : Sweetheart, we have another event this Saturday. Your father insists we all attend together. Dress appropriately.

You groan loudly. Yet another night of forced smiles, politics and fake performances. You're so tired of it, you almost tell your mother that you're in no mood to attend when you remember something. Jungkook will be there, of course he will. None of the Jeons ever miss prestigious events, they show up to these things as if it's the biggest blessing.

You're itching to see Jungkook. He hasn't said anything in longer than usual, so you're very curious about his whereabouts. On Saturday night you'll corner him somewhere quiet and kick him in his groin and demand he tell you why he's been ghosting you.

•───୨୧───•

It's finally Saturday night. You're standing in front of your mirror assessing how you look. You look beautiful, wearing a long, emerald-coloured dress with the neckline dipping enough to show some cleavage and a slit that shows your thigh every time you take a step. Your hair is let down and you've touched up with just a bit of make-up. You look perfect, but inside, you're far from it – you're feeling nervous.

Once you reach the venue with your parents, you enter and take your seats. As discreet as possible, you start scanning the crowd. The Jeon table is already occupied. Mr Jeon sitting beside his wife, along with some of their other family and advisors, but no Jungkook. Your heart drops. Jungkook is always here, he'd never miss such events.

You force your gaze away and accept a glass of champagne from a passing server. Your mother says something to you, but you barely register her words, since your mind is completely elsewhere. Where the fuck is he?

You keep your eyes forward as the elderly host welcomes all the guests. For the next couple of minutes you watch as people converse with one another. Watching as you sit alone, hoping that he'll just show up soon – not because you're eager* to see him or anything! But because he really deserves to get kicked in his balls. That's all.

After a while, the doors open again. You turn your attention to the late arrivals, and there Jungkook is. Painfully looking as handsome as ever in a black tuxedo with his hair a little messy, just as you like it. His movements cause multiple heads to turn to him and look at him with either respect, admiration or envy.

But he's not alone. A woman is clinging to his arm. She's beautiful and elegant-looking wearing a silky pink gown that hugs her curves. She leans into Jungkook as they walk, her head tilted on his shoulder, and he... he's smiling at her. Smiling at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the room.

The glass of champagne freezes halfway to your lips. They walk over to the Jeon family table together. When Jungkook's mother sees them, the warmest smile spreads across her face. She stands to greet the woman, lightly kissing both her cheeks. "So lovely to see you again, darling." she says clearly enough for everyone around them to hear. The girl smiles back sweetly and lets Jungkook guide her into the seat right beside him. 

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You force your gaze back to the stage to whatever the host is talking about. Your fingers tighten around your glass, you're certain it might break. A few minutes later, you glance back at Jungkook, he glances at you too, making brief eye contact before he looks away. He looks away as though so very recently, he did not fuck you so passionately, so needily.

Your blood turns to ice. Is this why he ghosted you? He found himself a real girlfriend? One who he can bring to fancy events. Someone who his mother clearly approves of. Someone who isn't a secret he has to hide. You want to walk over there, yell at him and beat the shit out of him, but how can you?

Despite all the anger you're currently feeling, buried deep beneath, something you don't want to acknowledge is that you may be hurt. But of course, you tell yourself that you don't care who else he fucks, who he dates because you hate him. And right now you hate him more than ever.

You don't look at him again, you keep your eyes anywhere but him. Though many times, you've gotten the feeling of him looking at you.

You look completely unbothered, but mentally you're cursing him. Piece of shit. How dare he?

The event isn't even halfway done when you watch movement in your peripheral vision. Jungkook and the girl are standing. He murmurs something to his mother before offering the woman his arm again, she takes it with a smile. He walks her toward the exit with his hand on her lower back as she continues clinging to him.

You endure the rest of the event with your parents, until it's time to go home.

•───୨୧───•

The days after the event were unbearable for you, and unfortunately for everyone around you as well. You were being rather bitchy to your assistants, your mother and anyone else really. Everyone has been getting the worst of your mood swings.

One of the days, you had printed a booklet filled with pictures of Jungkook's face so you could use them on dummies at your family's private shooting range to practise your headshots. And not so surprisingly, you had blown the heads off of all the dummies. At a sparring session, you had taped one of the pictures to the punching bag and beat it up, vividly imagining that it actually was Jungkook

A few nights after that, as if he was trying to get under your skin, he had the audacity to message you.

Jungkook : you up? Can I come over.

The audacity that this man has astounds you. You type messages swearing at him before deleting them, deciding to be mature and block him instead.

the following evening you sit at your desk and decide to pour your rage into pages. You describe your male as very similar to Jungkook (which you often do) and describe the female lead as similar to you. In your little story, the female lead becomes aggravated with the male and ends up trying to physically harm him.

Somehow, things end up becoming even more tense between them and they share the most heated kiss, until things elevate. You write the scene until it starts to read like something too close to reality. Something too close to what you and Jungkook would end up doing.

You slam your laptop shut, telling yourself that none of those stories you've written are about him. None of the stories you've written in there are anything about the experiences you've had with him. You'd never write about him. You love to write whereas you have nothing but hate for Jungkook. It would be too ironic.

୨୧

On Saturday evening, you're still feeling quite awful. You need something urgently, something to make you feel good. You reach in your freezer for some soju, just to help quiet the noise in your head. You're about to open the bottle when you hear a sound upstairs, the sound of your window opening followed by steps.

Your heart skips a beat. Nobody gets past your security, absolutely nobody.

Quietly you take one of the knives from your kitchen drawer. Your parents have made you train how to fight, you know how to use weapons, so you know exactly how to draw blood without killing.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom. The bedroom door is cracked open; you push it open with your shoulder whilst keeping your knife raised. A hooded figure is stepping in, a figure you recognise immediately despite the darkness. Once he's properly inside, he gently closes the window.

Without hesitation, you close the distance, hook your arm around his throat from behind and yank him backwards and hold the knife firmly to his throat.

"Don't move." you warn him.

He freezes before pulling his hood down.

"Hey hey, it's me." he says quickly with his hands up. "It's just me, princess. Put the knife down."

You stare at the side of his face, remembering how he brought another woman to the event, yet still has the guts to show up here as if you're just going to allow it. Your grip on the knife doesn't loosen, instead you press it harder against his skin.

Jungkook's breath hitches and his eyebrows knit together, his confusion turning more cautious.

"Baby... what are you doing? It's me." he whispers.

You lean in closer so your lips brush his ear.

"What the hell are you doing breaking into my house?" you ask. "You think you can just come here after ghosting me?"

Jungkook swallows. "I just came to see you. I've been calling and texting, you haven't picked up once. I thought something was wrong."

You huff out a bitter laugh. "Something wrong? Yeah. You. You're what's fucking wrong, Jeon."

He blinks once, confusion mixing with his fear. He's scared, not necessarily scared of the knife being pressed to his throat (he's been threatened with worse), he's scared of you, like this.

"You blocked me?" he asks.

"Yes, I did."

He exhales through his nose. "Then why the fuck are you acting like i ghosted you on purpose? I've been-"

"Shut up." You press the knife even harder, until a thin red line appears on his skin "You're stupid for coming here. I don't want to see you. I could kill you right now and nobody would know."

His adam's apple bobs. And then faster than you can process, he twists. His forearm knocks the knife out of your hand while the other grabs your wrist tightly, causing the knife to clatter on the floor. You don't even have time to gasp when he spins you and slams you back against the wall, pinning both your hands on top of your head, using one of his hands.

He uses his body to keep you in place, his chest pressing against yours, his hips flush against yours, his thigh slotting between yours. Your breath hitches when his free hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, a bit roughly.

"Gotcha." he teases

Your heart's racing so fast, you're almost sure he can feel it.

Fuck, you love this. You hate that you do. You love the way he manhandles you, so rough and possessive, all dominating. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, your nipples harden and you feel that little flutter in your lower belly. But even despite your growing arousal, you're still so fucking angry.

He leans in slowly, his nose brushing the side of your neck. Earlier on you had the longest bath, shaved, used the sweetest smelling soap and applied your favourite moisturizer. You've done that for yourself, to feel good. You surely did not expect Jungkook to be here inhaling your smell as if you're a drug. He exhales shakily, letting out a soft groan.

"Fuck," he curses against your throat. "You smell so good."

His kisses on your neck start off soft, then they become open-mouthed, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You gasp when he starts biting you. He goes further up to suck just below your ear, hard enough to leave a mark.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asks roughly. "You're angry. Talk to me."

You keep quiet, not wanting to answer him. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

"Baby..."

"Don't call me that."

He exhales through his nose again, sounding a bit frustrated. He kisses your neck again while rolling his hips against you, grinding his hardness against you causing you let out an involuntary high moan.. Jungkook pulls back to look at you again.

"Tell me what I did."

You say nothing, he waits for your answer that is not coming anytime soon. You just stare up at him. He sighs before dropping his forehead to yours.

Soft and almost pleading, he asks; "What's wrong? Why are you being like this?"

Hearing him ask what's wrong, as if he's not the source of your anger further enrages you. You're not sure what comes over you, but you do what you've been meaning to do – you knee him square in the balls.

He groans and sucks in a sharp breath, followed by a few curses. He stumbles to the side, one of his hands going down to cup himself as the other hand braces on the wall. The pain he feels is strong, but it's not excruciating. It was your intention just to hurt him a little, not to break your favourite part of him.

After the pain seems to fade, he straightens with his jaw clenched. You don't wait to see how he recovers, instead you walk towards the bedroom door, eager to get away from him. If he values his life, he better get out the same way he came in.

You make it about three steps to the door when suddenly strong arms are being wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet. You squeal, shocked and furious.

"Jungkook! Put me the fuck down!"

He does not listen to you, instead he carries you over to your bed and drops you face down on it. Before you can get up to swing at him, he delivers a very hard smack to your ass. Involuntarily you let out a high pitched gasp, jerking forward a bit.

The delicious sting of his smack goes straight between your legs. Fuck. You hate how your body betrays every single time. You're a sucker for his hands on you, you've always been one. You love his touches - whether they're rough or gentle, punishing you or praising you. The second Jungkook touches you, your brain short circuits and you get rather excited*

He leans over you, so his chest is pressed against your back. One knee is between your thighs to keep you spread open. He delivers another smack to your ass, this time it's even harder. You fail to hold back the moan that makes its way from your throat, it's so needy that you want to punch yourself.

"There she is." he murmurs against your ear lowly. "My princess making those pretty sounds for me."

"Fuck off." you try to say, as petty as possible. Though, it just comes out breathless.

He chuckles at that, rubbing your ass cheek softly, soothing the skin through your thin, silky shorts. His hand goes down to caress you where your thigh meets your ass cheek. He bends to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss there then a lot more.

You squeeze your eyes shut. How the hell can he do this? How can he climb through your window, man handle you, spank you and kiss you so intimately after everything?

You hate him so much right, yet you've missed him too. You've spent nights alone, dreaming of him being here, doing exactly what he's doing now. But now he's here, aching to please you and all you want to do is dig his eyes out. Jungkook shifts a bit, pressing his hips forward so you can feel exactly how hard he is.

"Been thinking about this pretty pussy nonstop. You gonna make it better, baby? Or you gonna keep being a brat and making me beg?"

You bite your bottom lip, wanting to do both of those options. But you're still feeling petty so you keep quiet instead, not giving him any answer.

He lets out a long, frustrated exhale. "You're really gonna do this tonight."

Again, you don't answer.

"Do you want me gone?"

"Yes."

He stops for a few seconds, breathing in and out, his cock throbbing against your ass. Eventually, he sighs deeply and pushes off you. The sudden absence of his weight on you feels awful. You didn't think that he'd actually get off.

"Fine," he says softly. "If that's what you want."

He stands, adjusts himself and turns to your room window, walking toward it. Once you hear him opening it, panic claws its way up your throat. You roll over fast.

"Jungkook. Wait "

For a while, he stands there for a moment, with his back turned to you. Slowly, he turns back to face you, his eyes meeting yours, you notice that he looks a little hurt.

"I'm not gonna force you. If you want me gone, I'll go."

You stare up at him with your chest tight. You want him to stay, you need him to stay, and you hate the fact that you do.

"Don't go." you whisper.

Jungkook sighs, walking back over to you. You're looking up at him with the prettiest expression he's ever seen. Your eyes are a little glassy, your lips slightly parted. The look undoes him, makes him weak, so fucking weak. He's faced dangerous men who've had loaded guns pressed to his forehead, and even then he'd been okay. But with you - you unravel him in ways he never thought were possible.

He stops right in front you. He reaches out, his knuckles grazing your jaw. His hand opens to cup the side of your face as his thumb caresses your bottom lip. Your breath hitches, he uses the opportunity to press the tip of his thumb inside your mouth. Your lips close around it gently first before you start sucking and twirling your tongue around it while maintaining eye contact with him.

Jungkook swallows hard, his other hand balling into a fist at his side as if he's trying to hold himself back from grabbing your hair and yanking you down to suck onto something else.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asks rough, yet tenderly. "You've been so mad ever since I came."

He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, brings it to his own mouth and licks your spit off it with his eyes locked onto yours. You stare back at him, your mouth opening and then closing, still holding back your answer.

Jungkook sighs again softly before leaning down close. So close that his nose brushes yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

You give him a confused, almost amused look. How dare he act polite now after spanking your ass the way he did?

Your lips pout just a little - enough for him to understand what you're saying. He grins, closing the distance. The kiss starts off gentle and soft. But you're not in the mood for his gentleness or softness. Your hands fly up to his hoodie, bringing him closer to insert your tongue into his mouth whilst kissing him harder.

He lets you dominate for a few seconds until he takes control as usual. His hand makes its way to the back of your neck, threading into your hair to tilt your head exactly where he wants it. His other hand goes to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you like he's trying to suffocate you, it's filthy and possessive. His tongue thrusts into your mouth making you whimper into his mouth. He sucks onto your bottom lip, nips on it then soothes it with his tongue

You try to fight for dominance – pushing against his chest, trying to change the angle, trying to get control. Jungkook just tightens his grip, growls low in throat and keeps dominating you. Until the memory of him walking into that event with that woman on his side, smiling with her, being glued to her, his mother beaming at her as if she's her future daughter-in-law - the memory hits you, ugly and unwelcomed. You bite down hard on Jungkook's lip.

He winces and breaks the kiss with a hiss, a little bit of blood blooms on lip. He looks at you with something dark and wild in his eyes, before suddenly placing his hands on your hips and flipping you onto all fours with effortless strength. You squeal, surprised. Before you can snap at him, his fingers find the waistbands of your shorts and your underwear underneath and pulls them down.

They pool at your knees, so now you're presented to him with your bare ass up, back arched and pussy glistening. He groans before leaning down to sink his teeth into one of your ass cheeks, biting on it as revenge.

You gasp and moan loudly at the same time. "Jungkook-"

He soothes the mark almost immediately, kissing his bite mark softly.

"Payback." he says against your skin.

He leans down lower, spreading you wider with his hands before latching his mouth on you. He doesn't start off slow, he licks you from your entrance to your clit greedily. You cry out loudly, your hips bucking back against his face.

He groans into you as if you're the best thing he's ever eaten. Because you are. He missed this – he missed you. Missed the way you taste, missed the way you get so wet for him, missed the you sound. He eats you out like he's starving. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking softly then becoming harder, thrusting his tongue into your entrance, while his tongue nudges your clit every time.

You're loud, you're always extremely loud. Moans escaping you loud and needy. "Jungkook- fuck. Right there, don't stop."

He hums against you, the vibrations turning you on even more. His hand grips your thigh tightly, holding you in place to prevent you from moving an inch from his mouth. After a very few minutes, you're shaking, moaning even louder.

"Jungkook- I'm- ah."

Jungkook always knows when you're close. He doubles his efforts, sucking and tongue fucking you even harder until you're releasing while moaning his name. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking you up slowly until you're whimpering softly. He pulls back to breathe, before leaving a few pecks on your swollen and sensitive pussy

He straightens and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You turn over so you can watch him. He reaches behind his neck to pull his hoodie over his head, his shirt follows afterwards.

You missed this sight more than you'd ever admit. The sight of Jeon Jungkook standing near your bed shirtless, flushed, looking so lustful. He's definitely the most attractive man you've ever seen – handsome, tall, muscular, tatted. You can't look away from him.

He catches you staring, his eyes darken and he gives you a small smirk. His hands move to his belt so that he can unbuckle it and put it aside. He pulls down the zip on his pants and pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard, thick and leaking at the tip.

You get off the bed, getting to your knees. Your mouth waters and your pussy clenches at the thought of having him in your mouth as soon as possible. At this moment all you think of is how you're about to give him the best head. You're concerning yourself with the event, with the other woman, nothing.

You wrap your hand around his thick cock and guide the tip to your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, licking and swallowing the precum. Jungkook hisses through his teeth. One of his hands finds the back of your head - not controlling your movements, just holding instead.

"Ah fuck, good girl..." he breathes.

You hum around him, content at the praise. You know he likes it so you take him deeper and hollow your cheeks as you suck on him. You've given  him head countless times so over time you've learnt how to give him the most enjoyable time.

You're pleasuring him exactly the way he likes – deep throating with saliva dripping down your chin. Jungkook's hips start jerking, chasing your mouth as you start bobbing your head.

"Just like that." he groans.

His free hand finds yours near his thigh and he intertwines them together.

"You're taking me so well, princess."

You moan around him, high and needy. Again, loving his praise. You pick up the pace, going faster until wet, slurping sounds fill the room. Saliva drips down your chin onto your chest, but you don't stop, you suck him deeper until your eyes water. Jungkook's losing it. His hand grips your hair tightly now as he thrusts into your mouth as gently as he possibly can.

"Gonna come-" he pants. "You want it down your throat?"

You answer by twirling your tongue around him, trying to take him impossibly deeper. He groans as he comes hard, down your throat. You swallow it as your head still bobs slowly. Jungkook curses under his breath.

When he finally stops pulsing, you pull off slowly until the tip is out your mouth with a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. You look up at through your slightly wet lashes, he stares down at you with an unreadable look.

You stand up slowly and sit back on the bed, propping yourself on your elbows. Jungkook stands there frozen for a few moments. Fuck, you're gorgeous. Eyes watery, chin wet, hair messy. He wants to tell you, wants to drop to his knees and tell you that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, that just looking at you makes his heart flutter, that he'd climb through your window every night if he could, just to see you for five minutes.

But the small ache that's still there in balls reminds him that you'd probably knee him again if he tried to be soft with you. So he doesn't speak, he just climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. He kisses you filthy and hungry. Your tongues slide together, tasting each other. Both of you moan and groan into each other's mouths animalistically.

It's one of your nastiest make-out sessions yet - teeth clashing, tongues colliding. He sucks onto your tongue, pulls it between his lips and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. He grinds against you causing his cock to slide against your inner thigh.

You arched up into him, nails digging into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He breaks the kiss to lift your camisole top up so it bunches at your arms. He doesn't pull it completely off yet, he just leans down and licks between your cleavage. He comes back to lick one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth.

You gasp, back arching off the bed and fingers flying to his hair. He groans around your nipple before switching to your other breast. He sucks and bites on it, making sure to leave his marks on you. As he sucks on the one, he palms the other, squeezing while using his thumb to play with your nipple.

"Gonna fuck you so good tonight." he mumbles roughly. "Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so every time you walk you'll remember I was here, so you remember that you're all mine."

You love this side of him. You love how possessive he sounds over you, how he praises you, but the words do not sit right with you tonight. 'Mine.' When he walked into that event with someone else by his side. The anger suddenly surges back, but you don't say or do anything yet. You know how you're going to torment him and you're about to enjoy it more than anything.

Jungkook pulls your camisole off completely, tosses it somewhere then gets his pants and boxers off. He's completely naked now. He settles between your thighs while he keeps kissing you wherever he can reach – on your throat, your collarbone and between your breasts.

One of his hands reaches down to wrap around his length, guiding himself to your entrance. He nudges the tip through your folds, teasing the both of you and he smears his precum with your wetness until you're both softly groaning. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and wild and lustful.

"You want me, baby?" he asks, his voice rough and heavy with restraint.

You stare up at him, your nails now digging into his shoulders a bit angrily. Instead of answering him, you lift your hips, trying to slide yourself down onto him, taking him slowly. Jungkook curses and pushes in the rest of the way, stretching you open until he's buried all the way.

You both freeze for a second, breathing in each other's air. After a short while, Jungkook starts to move into you. His hands find yours and he intertwines them above your head. He pulls out then sinks in even deeper with a loud groan.

"Fuck." his forehead drops down onto yours and his eyes flutter shut. "This is the best feeling in the world. Nothing comes close to this.

He truly means it. To him there's nothing better than being buried inside you and feeling you wrap around him. It's addictive to him, he could spend the rest of his life buried in your pussy and be the happiest man on Earth.

You're soaking wet, allowing him to thrust into you with ease. He moves slowly at first, pulling out and pushing back in, until he goes deeper and harder. Fucking you in the way that drives you insane for him.

By now you're moaning, unfiltered and needy. Your nails rake down his back, hard enough to leave your marks on him. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him deeper.

Jungkook loves how you get when he fucks you. He loves how needy you get, how pretty you sound. He doesn't know why it gets him so hard and turned on, why hearing you fall apart because of him makes him feel so possessive over you. Jungkook wishes he could experience this feeling forever. Just you and him, being so intimate and desperate for each other.

"Listen to you." he groans against your ear, fucking you harder now. "So loud for me. Taking me so well."

You're enjoying this way too much. Jungkook is being so perfect tonight. He's rough and praising – just the way you love him. You can feel him everywhere, on top of you, inside of you, surrounding you.

This has to be one of the best fucks you and him have ever had. Maybe it's because you're angry at him, and maybe it's because you felt something you'd hate to admit when you saw him with that woman. Maybe those are reasons why you're enjoying it so much, it's because a part of you is glad that he's here, pleasuring you.

But even as you melt under him and the pleasure builds, your mind still wanders off to places you wish it wouldn't. What if he fucks that woman like this? What if he whispers the same filthy praises in her ears? What if he tells her that being inside of her is the best thing ever?

Your nails grip into his back harder, with a small intention to hurt him. To make your marks on him even more visible and obvious. Jungkook hisses, both in pain and pleasure. His pace increases as if you marking him turns him on more.

"Fuck, mark me up, baby." he pants. "Let everyone know who I belong to."

You almost let out a bitter laugh, because it sounds so ironic. Purposely, you clench around him hard, pussy fluttering tightly around his cock causing Jungkook's perfect rhythm to stutter. A moan escapes Jungkook and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck – don't - don't do that–"

He loves when you do that, when you squeeze tightly, clenching around his cock, trapping him inside you. But on the downside, it makes him come way too fast – embarrassingly fast. Every time you do it, he begs you to stop. His hips thrust forward as he pant.

"Baby stop. I'm gonna – "

You do not stop, instead you clench and unclench around him until he's groaning loudly and releasing into you. He buries his face in your neck, hips bucking as he comes with a curse.

When it's over he stays there breathing hard with his hands still laced with yours. The bliss for him does not last. He lifts his head slowly and looks at you, realising that he hasn't made you come. You're just looking at him with something mean in your eyes. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together.

He does not like this. He never ever likes coming before you. It feels wrong, like he failed you somehow. He always wants you to come first, or at least to come with him. That's how it should be. Your pleasure before his own. Your pleasure is his priority.

He pulls out slowly and braces himself on his forearms above your head. "Baby..." you notice he sounds quite pissed off. "What the fuck was that?"

You blink up at him, looking like the picture of innocence. "Hmm?" you hum sweetly. "What was what?"

Jungkook stares down at you. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something. He wants to question you, wants to accuse you. He wants to ask what the hell is going on in that head of yours? Why are you doing this? He swallows his questions and leans in slowly to kiss the corner of your mouth before pulling back to look at you.

You stare at him, he's all flushed with his hair messy. You can't help but think that he looks cute like this. Way too cute for someone who can kill with his bare hands. Your heart does something stupid and infuriating. You hate him for making you feel this way.

He reaches down, grabs his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe between your thighs where his release still spills out. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lines himself at your entrance again.

You're still wet, but still, he pushes in slowly until he's deep inside. You both exhale. He stays still for a second, feeling how you're still lightly fluttering around him. He starts to move through your tight walls against your sensitive spots that he knows so well. He knows your body better than his own, so he definitely knows how to give you a good time.

You moan right against his ear and he groans lowly in response. He buries his face in your neck and starts kissing you there, open-mouthed and hungrily. You tug his hair, pulling him closer, motivating him to pick up the pace. Your breasts bounce with every one of his thrusts and Jungkook cannot stop staring at you.

"You're so pretty when you're getting fucked." he rasps.

He hooks his hands under your knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders. The new angle allows him to sink in even deeper. Your eyes flutter shut at the perplexing feeling.

Minutes pass, sweat forms on Jungkook's temple, dropping down to his jaw, making him look even hotter. His stamina is insane, he could usually go on for hours. His focus right now is on making you come all for him.

He's been very needy as of recently, since he hasn't been sexually active in a very long time, so when he feels his own pleasure building in his lower belly and his thighs starting to shake, he's not surprised.

He can feel that you're close as well, your pussy starts fluttering around him. You're so close. He brings your legs down and hooks them around his waist so he can hover over you with his forearms braced on either side of your head. He's close enough to you that you both breathe in each other's breaths. He kisses your jaw, the corner of your mouth and you cheek bone before leaning to your ear to speak roughly.

"I'm close, baby. Come with me." he whispers. "Please – wanna feel you come on my dick. Wanna come together."

Your pussy flutters around him greedily and he groans. "Fuck, yeah–"

You're milking him hard, making his head spin. He cannot hold himself, he comes hard, burying himself inside you with a moan, his hips jerking through it. He waits, waiting to feel your walls seize him deep and gush around him. But there's nothing, absolutely nothing. You're panting and breathing heavily but you haven't released.

Jungkook processes it for a few seconds, then slowly, he pulls out. His cock is still hard, but softens now that the pleasure is being replaced by something else entirely. He braces himself on his forearm, hovering over you.

He asks, low and quite annoyed, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

Again, you look up at him innocently. "Doing that?" you tilt your head at him, faking confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jungkook clenches his jaw. He exhales through his nose, frustrated. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're not coming. You're holding it back just to fuck with me."

You let out a small scoff. "Maybe you're just not doing a good enough job."

The words hit Jungkook right where it hurts the most. He freezes for a few seconds. Then his eyes darken, his fingers grip the sheet as if he's trying to hold himself back. What you just told him is the worst thing you could've ever told him, it bruises him like nothing else. You've told him that he isn't good enough for you, that he could not satisfy you.

He growls low, "You fucking brat."

He roughly flips you over so you're on your stomach. You gasp and barely have time to brace yourself before he yanks you up, so you're on fours in front of him. Your face is pressed into the sheets and your ass in the air. His slaps your ass cheek hard, so hard that the sound echoes in your massive room. You yelp and moan, jerking forward.

His hand wraps around throat, tilting your head back so you're arching. He pulls you up until your back is against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. His warm breath fans your ear. His other hand goes down to deliver a smack directly to your clit. You cry out shamelessly, pain and pleasure shooting through you.

"Stop your fucking shit." he growls against your ear. "Right now."

You laugh breathlessly, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Why? What are you gonna do about it, Jeon?"

His grip on your throat tightens slightly and his teeth graze your earlobe. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."

His hand between your thighs moves up higher, he slides two fingers through your folds, circling your clit. You whimper, melting into his touch even as you try to stay defiant.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" he murmurs. "You think I don't know how you're trying to make me mad?"

His fingers press against your clit harder as he kisses your neck, sucking onto the marks he's left. He inserts his fingers inside you again, curling them deep. He finger-fucks you until you're panting and moaning again.

He carries on until he knows you're about to release, but still, you don't. You refuse to give him what he so desperately wants, you continue denying yourself just to spite him. You're still winning whatever fucked up game this is.

Jungkook pulls his fingers out abruptly and uses his hand to deliver another smack to clit before cupping it, feeling you throb against him. He tries to catch his breath, he's fuming at this point. What kind of torture is this?

But Jungkook being Jungkook, is not going to give up. He lines himself at your entrance again and sinks into you in a hard thrust. You moan, nails digging into his arm where it holds you across your stomach. Again, he starts fucking you, but harder and deeper now, keeping one arm securely around your waist and the other loosely around your neck.

You're so loud, whimpering and moaning softly – those sweet sounds he lives for. He goes on for long until he can feel the pleasure building for himself, warning him that he was going to come yet again but he can still feel you holding back.

He stops moving, his hips thrust forward one last time and he stays buried deep inside you. He lets out a frustrated groan as his forehead drops to your shoulder, both his hands moving to your hips now.

"What is your fucking problem?" he asks furiously, almost pleading.

For a moment, you say nothing. Then you finally let it out. "I can't stand you." you say, your own voice furious. It kind of sounds like you're at the verge of crying. "You're so stupid, Jungkook. So fucking blind. How can you be here, fucking me, when you brought someone along with you to the event? Let your mom beam at her, like she's something important to you–"

Jungkook freezes, although his grip on your waist tightens as he processes your little outburst. After a few seconds, he huffs out a laugh against your neck.

"Is this funny to you!?" you hiss, yanking forward trying to pull away from him.

His cock almost slips out of you, but you don't make it away because he pulls you back against him so roughly, your ass recoils against his hips. You hate yourself for the pure moan that spills out of you.

Jungkook's lips brush your ear as he speaks, "You're jealous." he says, smug and delighted.

"I'm not jealous." you spit, rageful. "I hate you. I hate that you think you just parade with someone else, then climb through my window like I'm yours to fuck whenever you want me."

"Oh, princess." he pulls out and thrusts inside you. "You are still mine. And yeah, I brought someone else to the event. She's just a family friend. An old arrangement my mom's been pushing for years. She doesn't mean shit. I don't want her, baby."

"Bullshit."

He presses a soft, tender kiss to the side of your neck. "You think I'd risk everything, my reputation, my life – just to be someone who isn't you?" his tone turns serious, losing the smugness. "You're the only person I want."

You're speechless, not believing what you just heard. But of course, you're not going to admit how happy his words have made you, so instead you clench around his cock hard. He winces and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck." he grunts, letting out a ragged breath. 

He sucks another mark onto your neck while rolling his hips into you.

"You think I look at anyone else the way I look at you?"

He thrusts into you deeply again, making you moan and arch your back.

"You're the only one," he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "The only one who makes me this stupid, this weak. This fucking desperate."

He punctuates each sent with a thrust before sticking to the perfect rhythm that has you moaning his name. He removes the hand from your throat and brings it down to your breasts to knead them.

"Look at these tits. So fucking perfect." he groans. "You know how many times I jerked off thinking about them?"

He pinches one of your nipples, making you whimper before he soothes it.

"You're so tight," he continues, his hips carry on thrusting in and out of you. "So wet, so fucking greedy. No one else feels like this."

He sucks more marks onto your neck while his hand goes down to rub your clit, causing you to cry out his name.

"Jungkook–ah"

Fuck. He wants those sounds in his mouth, he wants to swallow it, he wants to taste you. He grabs your face with his other hand, turning it to give you a messy kiss. He pushes his tongue inside your mouth,exploring and swallowing your pretty sounds.

Jungkook doesn't even understand what he wants anymore. All he knows is that he wants all of you. He never wants to ever pull out, he just wants to spend the rest of his life buried deep inside of you. His thrusts become even more relentless. He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. He puts a hand on your hip, pulling you against him to meet his thrust.

You're fluttering around him wildly, more than usual. Your breathless words become incoherent now, making Jungkook dizzy.

"Come on, baby." he growls against your mouth. "Come for me. I need to feel you."

You shamelessly scream his name as you gush around him. Warm liquid drips down his cock, soaking his thighs and sheets. Jungkook's eyes open wide as he feels the sensation, the wetness drenches him from the base to the tip. His thrusts stutter as he continues slamming into you

"Oh fuck–"

Jungkook is gone. He must be in paradise.

He releases, burying himself as deep as possible, coming into you while panting. He carries on going while you tremble and whimper beneath him.

When it finally ends, he collapses over you, his forehead on your back. He stays inside of you, not being able to out since you're still fluttering around him.

Jungkook is astounded. After a moment, he finally speaks. "Fuck... you just squirted all over me."

You immediately stiffen, feeling a sudden sense of embarrassment. You try to squirm away, but he tightens his hold on you, staying inside of you. You bury your face into your pillow and let out a mortified groan. Jungkook softly kisses your shoulder and then your neck.

"That was the hottest fucking thing ever." he rasps against you. "I'm gonna make you do it again and again."

You whimper, wanting to protest, but deciding against it, because you know that once Jungkook wants something, he's determined to get it. Especially if it revolves around you.

•───୨୧───•

Minutes later, the room is quiet. Jungkook lay on his back, an arm over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. The sheets are damp beneath him, but it doesn't bother him. He stares at the ceiling, thinking. 

He turns his head to look at you. You're laying on your side, facing away from him with a blanket covering half your naked body. Jungkook looks at you in pure admiration and desire. He could go again right now. Slide inside you from the back and go for another round or two, but he decides not to – he's a bit tired and you must be even more.

The distance between the two of you feels wrong, he wants your bodies to be touching, he wants contact with you. He shifts over, closing the gap until your back is pressed against his chest. He puts his arm over your waist, bringing you closer to him. You let him pull you close until your ass is nestled perfectly in between his thighs. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent – you smell like your sweet body wash, sweat, sex and mostly him. He kisses your neck a few times.

"Why're you so away from me?" he asks, against you.

You sigh. "I feel gross." you admit.

"I don't." he kisses under your jaw softly. "I feel incredible."

He caresses your stomach soothingly. "But I do think you should pee. And we should shower."

"Yeah..." you say.

He kisses your shoulder one more time before standing up. "Come on." he lets out his hand for you to take.

You take his hand, letting him pull you up. Your legs are wobbly so he steadies you by holding you and guiding you to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Jungkook opens the taps, making sure that the temperature is perfect for you, while you pee.

After you're done, you step past him and into the shower. He follows after you. The hot water cascades over you, it feels absolutely amazing. Jungkook squeezes some of your body wash into his hands, planning to wash you. But you shrug him off, not wanting him to touch you.

His hands fall away. He takes a moment to look at you. You look really tense as if something is wrong. As much as he wants to, he doesn't try to get you to tell him. He just stands under the shower next to you and washes himself as well.

Once you're both done, you turn off the tap. Jungkook grabs a towel and wraps it around you. He then gets two more, one to wrap around hips and the other for your wet hair.

"Thanks." you tell him

He nods before following you out the bathroom and back to your bedroom. The sheets are a disaster so he takes them off, dumps them into the laundry basket and puts new ones on the bed.

Jungkook glances at you every now and then, watching as you dry your hair with a stoic expression. He finds his discarded boxers and puts them on before getting into bed with a tired sigh.

He watches you pull over a silky, short sleep dress and tie up your hair. You look like something out of a fever dream. A little ruined, his marks all over you, limping a little. You're so beautiful.

You get into the bed next to him, laying on your side, facing him now. None of you speak, you just stare into each other's eyes.

After a while you speak. "When did you start being so... affectionate?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, amused.

"Most of the time you just fuck me and leave, or I leave. You don't stay, hold me or do any of this."

Jungkook gives you a small smirk and moves closer to you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you against him so that there's absolutely no space between you. He dips his head to peck your lips then looks at you again.

"I feel bad.. For making you think that there was someone else."

You snort softly in disbelief.

"Although," he smirks. "You being jealous was so adorable."

You smack his chest. "I was not."

He hums sceptically. "Sure you weren't."

"I was not."

"Uh huh."

You glare at him, half-heartedly. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer to make you snuggle against him.

"Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Jungkook."

୨୧

The next evening comes quickly. Jungkook snuck out of your room early in the morning, making sure that nobody had seen him. Before leaving, he cradled your face in his hands and kissed you deep and desperately, asking you to unblock him and text him when you can. After he left, you felt a great sense of relief, but also missed him.

The rest of the day went by sprightly. You made yourself a delicious breakfast, you wrote and took a heavenly bath. Around six, your mother texted you, telling you to come by for dinner and to dress elegantly. You chose a beautiful outfit and got ready.

Soon, you're arriving at your family's estate, walking inside your childhood home to the dining room. When your mother sees you, she stands up and walks over to you.

"Sweetheart, there you are." she kisses your cheek before leading you to the table.

Your eyes wander over the scene before you. Your father sits at the table, across Mr Kim* and Mrs Kim, both of them looking sophisticated as always. And beside the, Sits a guy around your age.

He's tall, handsome, almost bewitching, you find yourself staring at him for a few seconds too long. You vaguely recognise him. He's Taehyung, heir of the Kims.

Your mother squeezes your waist gently and a little too enthusiastically. "Y/N, you remember the Kims?"

You nod politely, faking a smile.

"This," your mother says excitedly, "is their son, Taehyung. Taehyung, this is our daughter."

Taehyung stands. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly." he says, sounding rather amused.

"Likewise."

Your mother beams, looking between the two of you. "Why don't you sit, darling? Dinner's almost ready."

You nod and walk over to the table, taking a seat. Taehyung slides into the chair next to you and you catch the scent of his cologne, it's almost identical to Jungkook's, though you find Jungkook's much more preferable.

Your father clears his throat before raising his glass to make a toast. "To family and legacy."

Everyone raises their glasses and clinks together. Your mother waits until the clink fades, before she speaks.

"Sweetheart... we wanted to tell you this in person."

You stare at your mother with a poker face, though your awful suspicion grows. You want to throw up when your mother actually confirms your fear.

"Taehyung is your fiancé."

hii pookies, i worked so so so hard on this! i hope you guys enjoyed it🩷if you're interested, you can find part two on my patreon. either as a normal product — Best mistake 02 or on my membership tier — rkive (comes with other benefits, i will be posting everything on here first, along with extras in the future. feel free to check it out). also, ios users please try purchasing via the web to avoid paying extra fees. and once again, if you guys do support me, please know that i sincerely appreciate you <3

warnings – y/n's kinda emotional, mentions of period sex, possessive and kinda crazy jk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, mentions of oral, fingering, praising, jk makes out with her pussy, deep and rough sex, boob sucking, explicit language, i cannot mention a few things as it will spoil the story lol, but there's drama and a lot of cracking, etc...

wc – 11k+

[suga-kookiemonster]

ctrl alt del | jjk

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader word count⇢ 19.8k 🤭 genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ sexual content, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, corporate nonsense, jk is a nerd but he's also really hot 😩 a/n⇢ omg, she's finally here 😭 this fic has been sitting in my drafts partially finished for literal YEARS lmfaoo. as in, jungkook didn't even have tattoos yet years ☠️ in fact, the whole plot for this was spawned from that time namjoon was on a live in his studio and jk visited in this yellow buttonup looking like a hot nerd and namjoon said he looked like he had an interview. it had to be 2018ish...i know my OGs know exactly what i'm talking about, but i'll put it below the cut for reference. ANYWAYS this was fun to imagine, but it's also entirely fiction so please don't attempt anything that happens in this fic lmao. mood for this fic is this. hope you enjoy~ 💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

While you’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every quarter the company sponsors an employee barbecue where everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though friendly, she has zero filter and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in certain situations where you found her topic of choice inappropriate. 

Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate instead of your measly Assistant means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started and is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply truthfully. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales Boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from Accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “That sounds unnecessarily smelly. He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue button-up. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you prompt, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. They rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs in disinterest. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask distractedly. A glance back to the coolers shows Jungkook is gone, and you don’t see him in the immediate vicinity.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy reminds you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching his athletic display across the grass anyway.

Monday morning—the start of the workweek, but also, rather depressingly, the end of the weekend. Everyone tends to be more tired and grumpy on Mondays (yourself included), and this is why your team considers it essential that you always stop by their preferred coffeeshop and bring in their drinks for a morning pick-me-up. You’re the lowest on the ladder, so you weren’t exactly sure how to refuse when you were asked one day if you would mind picking up some drinks for everyone, and then, after that, people kept sending you their orders like it was expected of you. The café is technically on your way to work and everyone always pays you back, but it’s still pretty irritating to have to forgo those extra precious minutes of sleep just so you can beat the long lines and get to work on time.

Today, you’re lucky enough to get ahead of the morning rush, but that means that you end up trudging into the building much earlier than you anticipated. You hope the coffee’s insulated cups do their job properly, because you really don’t have the energy to listen to Joy huff and puff about having to reheat hers.

Your trek to your cubicle slows when you realize that someone is already there, sitting in your chair and typing away on your keyboard. Their back is to you, swathed in an olive button-up, and it’s not until you get close enough to curiously crane your head to see their face that you recognize him. The guy from the barbecue last week—the one by the coolers.

He startles a bit when he sees you approach in his peripheral vision, eyes darting up at you in surprise.

“Hi.” You raise the tray you’re holding in an awkward greeting. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to creep up on you.”

“That’s okay, _____,” he replies softly, wide eyes blinking a little from behind his round glasses. “I can get kind of spacey when I’m focused on something. I was just doing some updates on your machine and didn’t see you.”

“You…” Your head tilts curiously. “You know my name?” 

A small smile touches his lips as he points to your computer. “I’m updating your machine,” he reminds you.

Not to mention the fact that he’s literally sitting in your cubicle, you name tag clearly posted on the frosted glass that separates your space from Joy’s. An embarrassed chuckle leaves you when you realize your dumbass mistake. “Oh. Duh. Wow, that was a stupid question. Let me just get out of your way.”

“No, no, I’m clearly the one in the way!” His head shakes apologetically. “I couldn’t do this update remotely and I thought you didn’t clock in for another half hour—sorry about that.”

“I don’t,” you confirm. “But I tend to get here a little early so I can sort out everyone’s coffee order.”

A brow raises in surprise. “Do they really have you making coffee runs?” he asks incredulously.

You hmm in confirmation, moving to set the coffee on everyone’s desks. “Rite of passage, I guess,” you call over the divider as you work. Joy’s order today isn’t as over the top as you know she can be, but you were still rather embarrassed to order it (vanilla latte with oatmilk—one and a half pumps cinnamon, one pump hazelnut, an extra espresso shot and extra foam with honey drizzle). The barista had looked at you tiredly but hadn’t voiced her obvious judgement when she rung you up. 

“I guess,” you hear him say, but he doesn’t sound too convinced. 

Coffee distributed and hands finally free, you return to lean against your cubicle, hovering as he continues to quickly type and click. You look at him pointedly, a small smile creeping across your face. “Speaking of grunt work, I hear you’re the printer guy.”

His lips quirk. “I’m also the expert at updating Microsoft Word, just so you know.”

You laugh, and his eyes crinkle in amused response. “Oh, well excuse me, sir.”

“I’ll let it slide this once. Since you’re new.”

“And so are you. That’s why you’re the printer guy.”

He just lets out a puff of air that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. This close, you can now see the tiny holes that are trailing up his earlobe—he clearly has multiple ear piercings, not just the ones you saw at the barbecue. There is no jewelry in them now, though. 

“Jungkook, right?”

It’s his turn to look surprised, and you find yourself satisfied by the flush creeping up the back of his neck when he ducks his head in confirmation. 

“Us newbies gotta stick together,” you stage whisper behind a conspiratorial hand before leaning decidedly away. “Anyway, let me stop bothering you and go make some coffee.”

His eyebrows scrunch in clear confusion. “Didn’t you just bring some?”

“…Yeah, I am only just now recognizing just how bizarre this must seem,” you say sheepishly. “But none of those were for me—fancy specialty drinks aren’t really in my budget, so I tend to just brew a cup here.” 

“Did you say drinks?” a voice croaks, and when you turn your head, there’s Joy, walking towards the two of you. If her body’s sluggish movements weren’t enough to clue you in to the fact that she’s exhausted and possibly hungover, the designer sunglasses she’s wearing to tactfully hide half her face certainly do.

“On your desk,” you chirp as she walks past you without another glance. “Good morning!”

There is no response from the other side of the cubicle wall, and Jungkook frowns a bit, but you just give him a small shrug that translates to what can you do? before pushing off the wall to continue your trek to the kitchen. “You want one?” you offer. “I make a mean cafeteria coffee. Trial and error has taught me the exact temperature of tap water to use to make it taste less like sludge.”

His mouth smoothes back out at your joke, and though you wait for him to call you out on your ridiculous declaration, his gaze is already back on your computer. “No thank you,” comes his soft reply.

With a nod to yourself, you move to complete your task and leave Jungkook to work on his. When you return minutes later, newly-filled mug in hand, he’s already gone.

Today starts out pretty typically. After bringing everyone’s coffee, you settle into monitoring the company’s social media accounts. (When Joy first delegated this task to you, you were a bit confused, as social media is so vital to brands nowadays that handling it is technically a whole other full-time job. But it turns out you don’t have to do much above the intern level anyway—just answer customer questions and escalate issues if need be.)

Your manager has been out traveling for a week, but today she finally comes back to the office, and it makes for a nice change of pace when she hands you all of her scattered, hurriedly-scribbled notes and asks you to please transcribe them into something more cohesive and legible. Well, not nice, exactly (because at the end of the day, this is still busywork), but if you have to reply to one more Facebook comment with instructions that are clearly already on the product packaging, there is a pretty likely possibility you will scream. 

This is at least slightly less mind-numbing. Instead of copy-pasting things from a prewritten script, you get to try to make sense of what your boss had been trying to say when she wrote turkey club in the corner of a page filled with random numbers and dates. Was this important? Was it simply her plans for lunch that day? You and your fancy college degree have the pleasure of trying to figure that out while Joy and Alan, the web manager, get to actually do important things that are in their job descriptions.

Still, like every day, you try to dampen your frustration, try to keep a positive attitude. Because ultimately, this is an opportunity to grow your boss’s confidence in you, and that’s exactly what you want. Though you’re a little disheartened by all the busywork, you remind yourself it will all be worth it in the end. Your hope is that if you put in the time, you’ll eventually be trusted with more of the nitty gritty stuff. 

(You know…the stuff you actually got your degree for.)

But no matter how positive you are, things of course don’t go as smoothly as they should. After you’ve done a pretty fantastic job (if you say so yourself) of organizing and typing everything up, you send your manager the digital version. And, because you know the email may accidentally get buried in her inbox, you decide to print a physical copy for good measure.

You give the printer pretty simple, straightforward directions. One copy, double-sided (to do your part to save Mother Earth), the whole document typed in plain old black and white. But when you walk over, there’s nothing waiting for you in the printing tray. No humming to clue you in to the fact that the printer was working on your job. Nope. Instead, the admittedly ancient machine is quiet and still, and it stays that way for long enough for you to walk back to your computer to press the print button again, just in case you forgot to do so the first time. Still no dice. You frown, opening the paper tray to make sure it was full, then opening every other compartment that can possibly be opened to make sure there isn’t a paper jam somewhere.

Nothing.

Irritated, you stalk back to your desk, your first inclination to check with Joy and see if she has been having any of the same issues, but you find her chair empty. Probably got pulled into a meeting that they don’t find it necessary to loop you in on, even though it will ultimately be you who does all the grunt work for any action items the meeting produces.

Positive, you remind yourself, falling back into your chair and drumming your fingertips against your desk in thought. Maybe it’s not the printer at all. Maybe it’s your computer. You search your desk drawer for the introductory employee contact sheet HR had given you when you first started, and there he is—Jeon, Jungkook.

For a second, you consider sending him an email, but the green dot that displays he’s online has you shooting him a message instead. Much less formal, but likely quicker for the both of you.

You Hey Jungkook! Sorry to bother you, but I can’t print for some reason You The printer over here is ignoring me, and I don’t think I’m set up to print by the art directors

Despite what you originally assumed, he doesn’t answer immediately, obviously focused on something else. Still, you only have to wait a few minutes before you hear the soft ding you were waiting for. 

Jungkook Jeon Hi, _____. You mean the large printer by the marketing department, correct?   You Yes! I tried a couple times, but I don’t think the job even went through You Thought it best to just ask the printer guy 🙂

There’s a pause, one long enough that you worry that he’s forgotten about your lighthearted exchange from this morning. Shit. That was stupid of you. You’ve probably offended him. Fuck.

But if Jungkook is upset with you, he’s professional enough that it doesn’t come across at all in his next message. If anything, he just seems a little preoccupied. 

Jungkook Jeon Hmmm, let me check it out for you. Mabel can be a little uncooperative. You Mabel? 

Silence again, this time for a good five minutes. You answer some emails so you’re not just sitting there twiddling your thumbs. 

Jungkook Jeon Sorry, was running some diagnostics in the background to see if I could find the problem  IT kinda calls that printer Mabel because we’re pretty sure she’s worked for the company for longer than all of us combined. Seems fitting

You can’t help but snort at that. Cute, and likely not inaccurate. Mabel, it is.   

Jungkook Jeon One of these days Mabel’ll finally retire, but it won’t be today—looks like she’s running fine. Do you mind checking for me and seeing if you can access the marketing server? 

A few clicks, and when double clicking on the server icon doesn’t bring up the same list of folders it usually does, it confirms the conclusion the both of you have already come to—your computer is the problem, not Mabel.

You No dice 😕 Jungkook Jeon Got it. I think something went weird with your network connection after I updated your machine this morning. I can fix that for you! You Awesome! I appreciate it! Jungkook Jeon Of course! Can’t have my sparkling reputation as the Printer Guy tarnished so easily 😉 You LOL

You allow him remote access to your computer when a pop-up prompts you to, and he gets you up and running before your manager’s meeting is even over.

Lunch has always been an interesting—albeit potentially exhausting—part of your day. You learned early on that attempting to take the break you were legally entitled to at your desk did not stop anyone from continuing to ask you for things. Unfortunately, there weren’t many solutions to this problem—you didn’t get paid enough to be able to consistently eat your lunches out, and you lived too far away from the office to go home for lunch instead. So, you started taking your lunch break a little earlier than most of your other coworkers did, ensuring that the cafeteria was pretty empty and allowing you the space to decompress and eat your bagged lunch in peace. 

And as things usually went with this company, it didn’t take long for that peace to be interrupted. Once she noticed you disappearing from your desk, curiosity had Joy tagging along one day, and after that, it only took a couple weeks before both she and Wendy joined you. 

(Later, you would have the great idea to simply enjoy your bagged lunch in the park a few blocks away, but the weather wasn’t always great and at that point, the other two started to expect you to eat with them.)

So that’s exactly how you’re spending your lunch now—scarfing down the soup you made a few days ago that you’ll eat until it’s completely gone, while Joy and Wendy giggle and gossip to each other. As much as they apparently want to eat lunch with you, they tend to be pretty nonplussed by how you never contribute much to their inane conversations. 

And you’re fine with that. In the time it’s taken them to get comfortable invading your zen time, you’ve learned how to properly tune their tittering out. You’re good at nodding at the right times, at throwing in perfectly placed hums that indicate you’re listening, even when you’re not.

Today, it’s a sudden, uncharacteristic pause in their chatter that prickles against your diverted attention.   “That’s weird,” you hear Wendy mutter, and that officially throws you out of you mentally making your grocery list. The intrigued way she’s looking behind you makes you reflexively turn, and that’s when your eyes set on Jungkook.

He hadn’t been there when you first sat down for lunch, but he is now, sitting alone a couple tables away. He’s the only other person in the cafeteria, but from the AirPods in his ears and the way his eyes are focused on his phone screen, you doubt he’s even noticed this fact.  

Joy’s lips downturn slightly into a puzzled frown. “Hmm. IT guys never come down voluntarily from their tower.” 

Your head tilts as you mull over that. That isn’t exactly true. You have only seen Jungkook in passing a few times over the last couple weeks, but those few times prove IT aren’t exactly the antisocial specters the two women in front of you keep painting them as. You have even exchanged the short pleasantries with him that are socially expected when crossing paths at the coffeepot.  

“Wonder what he’s doing here?” Wendy says, not nearly quietly enough in your opinion. Embarrassment  flashes hot through you, inwardly chastising yourself for continuing to associate with such casually judgmental people. You’re already mentally preparing to apologize for your lunch mates when a covert glance out of the corner of your eye shows that Jungkook’s still paying your group no attention, taking distracted bites from his sandwich as his head bobs slightly to whatever is playing through his headphones.

“Whatever,” Joy says with a dismissive shrug, and then just that easily, the two are back gossiping about Cindy in HR.

From then on, you notice that Jungkook continues to eat lunch in the cafeteria at the same time as you. Sometimes, he beats you there, already at his designated table and munching on whatever he brought that day. If your eyes meet, he’ll send you a small smile in greeting before immediately dropping his focus back to his phone. If you’re there first and throw him a wave of acknowledgment, he always returns it, as is polite and expected of two coworkers who don’t know each other beyond their forced proximity.

And you think nothing of it, too busy being your department’s errand girl, the person who gets assigned all the tasks no one else wants to do. The amount of interaction you and Jungkook have is only marginally higher than what you have with Namjoon in Finance, who periodically reaches out to you for any missing receipts for charges on the Marketing department’s credit card.

This slowly starts changing as you begin to have more and more technical problems. You being assigned to put together multiple PowerPoints and research whatever market trends tickles your boss’s fancy means you constantly have an ungodly amount of tabs and applications open. This means you’re not really surprised when your computer—an older model that is definitely on its last leg—starts freezing and giving you pop up errors. A force restart seems to fix the problem, but a new one emerges—now, no matter how many times you hit the print button and walk over to your designated printer, nothing awaits for you to pick up. Even scrolling through the printer’s print history shows no record of your jobs being in the queue. It’s bizarre—you even make sure to confirm you’re connected to the servers, and that doesn’t seem to be the issue this time.

Frowning, you make your way back to your desk and scroll down your chat messages until a familiar face appears.

You  Hey Jungkook! I can’t seem to print—think something weird is going on with my computer today

A soft sigh of frustration escapes your lips, fingers drumming irritably against your desk. It isn’t even noon, but the day is already looking to be a long one.

Resigned, you settle in to wait for him to answer you in the chat, but the little bubbles that indicate he’s typing never pop up. Instead, you’re surprised when movement in your peripheral produces Jungkook himself, slowing in approach of your desk, though his focus is still on his phone screen. He must have gotten your message in the midst of doing something else. 

“Oh! Hi,” you greet him eagerly. “Just the person I was looking to see.”

He looks up at you from beneath the curtain of his bangs, a small smile touching his lips as he stuffs his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. “Just the person I was looking for,” he returns. “What seems to be the problem?” 

“Mabel is being a bitch again,” you say with an irritated sigh. “Every time I try to print, nothing is happening.” 

Jungkook snorts, amused, and it’s only then that your brain registers exactly what you just said. Swearing at work is unprofessional so you make it a point not do it, but that one slipped out so casually. “Oh—sorry.”

But if Jungkook is offended, it certainly doesn’t show in the responding chuckle he lets out. “That’s definitely on brand. I can fix that—let me take a look.”

You move to relinquish your seat, but he’s already leaning over you before you can do more than shift your weight. So you just let go of your mouse so he can control it instead, scooting to the side a bit and trying your best not to think too hard about how he’s close enough for your clothes to brush. Christ does he smell good.

Jungkook clicks around a bit, no doubt checking to make sure your computer is up to date and connected to everything it’s supposed to. “Is this what you’ve been trying to print?” he finally asks, brows furrowed in concentration.

You blink at the question, realizing with dawning horror that you were accidentally distracted by his proximity. You clear your throat, shaking your head a little at yourself in an attempt to clear it of all thoughts that aren’t solidly on the task at hand. “Yeah.” 

He clicks the print button, just as you have done for the past ten minutes, then straightens with a shrug. “Let’s give our old girl a visit and see what her deal is.”

You stand, following him around the corner to the copy room, where Mabel has proudly taken residence for who knows how many years. The fact that you can already see she’s humming with activity as the two of you approach has your eyebrows knitting in confusion.

Jungkook seems equally confused, reaching in the tray for the stack of paper that was just spit out and turning it over to confirm both of your suspicions. The report you’ve been trying to print for the last twenty minutes sits in his hand, likely still warm from how quickly and easily Mabel completed Jungkook’s request. He holds it up for you to see, his big doe eyes peering at you quizzically through his glasses. “This printer was the one that wouldn’t work for you?” he asks.

“Yeah, I definitely sent it to this one. Repeatedly,” you insist. Embarrassment prickles across your skin. “I swear it wasn’t working two seconds ago!”

Jungkook smiles when he hands you the papers, and it somehow softens his naturally cherubic face even more. “You just wanted to say hi to me, huh?” 

“Clearly Mabel likes you more than me,” you sniff at his teasing. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“You didn’t,” he says simply. He hovers for a few more moments as you check to make sure all the pages are there. “Let me know if you have any more issues, okay?”

“Will do,” you agree, mind already back on your work as you both turn to part ways. “Thank you so much for your help!”

“Anytime.”

“Didn’t you have a date last night?” Joy asks. 

It’s lunchtime again, early enough that the three of you are still the only ones in the cafeteria. While both Joy and Wendy are munching on some overpriced salads they had delivered from a restaurant a couple blocks away, you’re eating a boring ham and cheese sandwich that you haphazardly slapped together in your rush to get out the door this morning. Vaguely, you do remember Wendy mentioning something about an upcoming hot date, but she was always rambling about a hot date, and frankly, you don’t care enough to keep up with any details. Everything you know about her love life—and her, in all honesty—has been dumped onto you without you having any say in the matter. 

“I did,” Wendy squeals, excited as always to have the opportunity to talk about herself. “His name was Miles. We’ve been talking on Tinder for the past week—he was really sweet and seemed to want to get to know me. Last night he took me to a nice restaurant, really wined and dined me.”

“Wow,” Joy says, eyebrows raised. “That sounds promising. When are you gonna see him again?”

“I’m not,” Wendy scoffed. “He was nice and all, but he’s only 5’7. It’ll never work out.”

“True.”

You’ve been trying your hardest to zone them out, but the longer Wendy prattles on, each sentence more baffling than the last, you can’t help but interject, “Doesn’t the app let you filter out height preferences?”

Wendy pauses, a raise of an eyebrow betraying her surprise at you finally participating in her lunchtime shenanigans. “Not on the free version.”

“So why did you even entertain him if you knew you would never consider him seriously?” 

“..because I wanted to go to dinner?” Wendy replies flatly, the look on her face doing nothing to hide how stupid she thinks your question is. “Besides, he got what he wanted out of the deal. After dinner I took him home and let him fuck.” 

The flippantly casual way she throws out the vulgar word feels like a record scratch, especially since the three of you are, in fact, still very much on company premises. Wendy doesn’t seem to notice just how much she’s scandalized you, continuing to prattle on at full volume about how the sex was pretty good for a Tinder date, even though he refused to eat her out. 

At this point, you’ve long slowed in your chewing, now entirely too incredulous by the absurdity of the situation you’ve found yourself in to eat. 

“You didn’t suck him, did you?” Joy asks.

Wendy scoffs. “Of course not! I’m not giving head to some random anyway, especially if he’s not gonna give me mine first.”

“Can we not talk about this?” you mumble.

They both turn to stare at you, judgement plain on their faces. Wendy snorts. “Wow, _____. I never took you to be a prude.”

“I did,” Joy slides in under her breath.

You let out an agitated huff. This is ridiculous. “I’m not a prude.”

The two of them share a look. After a pause, Wendy finally asks in a way that indicates that it doesn’t really matter what you say because her mind is already made up, “Then what’s the problem?”  

Aside from this conversation being a massive HR violation?

Wendy continues smugly, as if she’s figured you out, “Talking about oral hit a nerve…interesting.”

Yes, Wendy! you think sarcastically, fighting the intense urge to roll your eyes. The whole rest of the convo was good and dandy—oral was definitely the line, though! 

Joy just looks at you, her eyes narrowing the longer she does. Her scrutiny makes your skin prickle in irritation. “You have gotten head before, right?”

“Okay!” you say sharply, stuffing the uneaten half of your sandwich back into the bag. “One, that’s neither of your business, and two, this conversation is completely inappropriate. Let’s change the subject, please.” 

It’s quiet for a moment, both of them visibly surprised by your response. Joy actually looks a tiny bit proud that you stood up for yourself, but Wendy just sniffs and mutters, “That obviously means no.” Ultimately, they both back off, choosing instead to chatter about the newest design of Joy’s nails.

You exhale a tiny sigh of relief. Wendy was hitting the nail too close to the head and you truly didn’t feel like explaining your life story to a nosy coworker who was nothing more than your acquaintance, at best. Now that they’ve finally let you out of the hot seat, you’re fully planning to spend the rest of your lunch hour zoning out in relative peace. 

But before you can properly dissociate, you hear someone cough behind you. 

Your blood runs cold. You already know who it is—no one else tends to eat lunch this early.

“How long has he been sitting there?” you whisper, already dreading the answer.

Joy waves an unbothered hand. “I don’t know, like five minutes?”

Five minutes. Long enough to have heard… 

You’re immediately mortified, and it must show on your face, because Wendy just snorts and says way too loudly for your comfort, “Oh, relax, this is probably the most action he’s gotten in months. I’m doing him a favor.”

What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. “Are you serious right now?”

“Calm down,” Joy says, rolling her eyes. “Look, he’s not even listening to us.”

And a slow, discrete turn of your head confirms what she says—Jungkook, in an ugly salmon button-up today, has his earbuds in, eyes downcast to his phone screen, lips soundlessly forming the words to whatever song he’s listening to. You feel a tiny bit of relief, but embarrassment still roils deep in your belly, suddenly making your half-eaten sandwich completely unappetizing.

You stand, grabbing the brown paper bag that contains the remnants of your lunch and hoping against hope that you’ll be able to bolt without him noticing.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Wendy sighs, annoyance bleeding into her tone. “I told you I didn’t realize you were a prude. We can talk about something else.”

You bristle, but tamp down the urge to defend yourself and point out again that you aren’t a prude, you just don’t want to be the office harlot either. “It’s not that,” you lie. The judgmental look in Joy’s eye only softens when you say, “I just remembered I forgot to print the printouts for the meeting this afternoon. I’ll see you guys later?”

“Sure,” Joy says dismissively, and Wendy says nothing at all. They’ve already moved on, no longer interested in your swift escape, attention eagerly back on the details of Wendy’s weekend. That’s works perfectly fine for you—you’ve had enough of being the center of attention for the day.

Blessedly, Jungkook doesn’t even look up when slink past him and out the door.

 It’s hot.

Third quarter is well underway, which means that it’s time again for the quarterly company barbecue. That also means it’s hot as balls. 

You suffer quietly, trying not to add to the stank atmosphere Joy and Wendy are already creating due to the heat. It’s an ambitious goal, especially since you’re already sweltering beneath your blouse—which was reasonable to wear within the chilled walls of the office, but feels rather ridiculous now, under the relentless beat of the sun. Despite being grateful for the free food and break from your maddeningly boring work, you can’t help but mentally yearn for the indoors, where there’s proper shade and air conditioning and decidedly less bitching. 

“I don’t know why they don’t just cater something for us to eat inside,” Joy mopes, dabbing at her brow with what you already know from experience to be a cheap, scratchy napkin. “How is anyone supposed to enjoy themselves if we’re melting?”

“It’s probably a ploy,” Wendy quips. “The more uncomfortable we are, the more likely we are to get back to work.”

“The date’s been on the calendar for months,” you point out wearily. “They had no way of knowing there’d be a heat wave today. Besides, the company’s already paid for the food. I doubt they intended to purposely waste that money.”

Joy scoffs in retort. “The company also knows throwing an outdoor event in July is the same as throwing one in Satan’s asshole.”

Wendy sniggers, but you don’t answer, biting back your response that outdoor barbecues are common during summer, and at least they don’t have you out here in the snow. Because honestly? This is only your second quarter with the company, and who knows what the fourth quarter barbecue looks like. 

All you can do is free some of the buttons on your blouse, undoing as many as you can while still being office-appropriate. As it is, you now have a little cleavage peeking out, but with how hot it is, you figure no one will say anything.

“Look,” Wendy says with an unsubtle tip of her head. “Looks like the soccer game is still on, at least.”

Fluttering the hem of your blouse in an attempt to get some circulation, you reflexively respond to her prompting, eyes following her line of sight. A few tables down, the Sales team has finished their meal and appears to be actively gauging coworker interest in joining their game. From the decently-sized group that’s starting to form by the open field, you think they’re pretty successful, despite the heat. 

Joy groans, lifting her long hair with a hand in an effort to cool off the back of her neck. “I don’t know how they’re doing all that when it feels too hot to breathe.”

Inwardly, you agree with her, but Wendy just gives a lazy shrug and says, “Hey, if we’re gonna roast to death, at least we’ll be properly entertained.”

“True,” Joy muses. “And they’re gonna be sweatier than usual.”

Wendy’s eyes glaze over a bit at the thought. You grimace, amazed that these two always seem to have their heads in the gutter. That’s my cue. “I’ll be right back,” you say, brushing off the back of your slacks as you stand, but they pay you no mind when you walk away.

You’ve already finished your meal, but it can’t hurt to take another look at the coolers. It’s so hot that you’ve already downed your first beverage, so a new one is in order. When you arrive to the area, two people from Customer Service pass, nodding at you in acknowledgment as they make their way back to their table. You’ve only just started to reach for a cooler lid when you hear someone address you again. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice says timidly behind you. “How’s it going?”

You reflexively turn your head, simultaneously surprised and not at all to find Jungkook standing there. He’s got on a long-sleeved button-up despite the heat—grey, checkered with a red and navy plaid—and you can’t help but wonder how he’s not sweltering. Though, the noticeable sheen on his face and the way his damp bangs are starting clump together tells you he just might be. 

“I’ve had better days,” you answer honestly, swiping the back of your hand across your forehead. Before you can catch yourself, that same hand is vaguely gesturing at him, head to toe. “How are you not melting?”

His lips twitch, amused. “I definitely am,” he admits. “I actually hoped no one was over here so I could stuff some of the ice from these coolers down my shirt without being judged.”

You snort. “Hey, who’s judging? Certainly not me. Knock yourself out; just make sure you leave me some.” 

He taps his chin, jokingly in thought, but to be honest, he does mildly look as if he’s actually considering it. “Well, we wouldn’t want the beverages to get cold…”

“Eh, there’s probably not that many in here anyway. They could probably consolidate coolers.” To prove your point, you bend over, cracking open one of the red ones next to you and peering inside. The expected assortment of generic sodas greets you, looking admittedly very refreshing floating in their ice bath. “See, this one isn’t even full.”

You angle your torso a bit so you can meet his eye properly over your shoulder, but as soon as you look up at him, his gaze hurriedly skirts away, color crawling up the back of his neck. You stand with a frown, confused by this, but ultimately brush off his weird behavior when you notice Namjoon from Accounting sidling up to the two of you. 

"Hey guys,"  he greets you, a friendly smile dimpling his cheeks. "We're getting some people together for a soccer game. I know it's really hot, but would either of you want to join?"

You’ve often seen Namjoon chatting with Hoseok in passing, and twice have even seen them leave the building for lunch together, so it doesn’t surprise you that the accountant is helping recruit for the Sales team's traditional barbecue pastime. What does surprise you, however, is that when he casually claps a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, the younger man first responds by blinking owlishly at him behind his glasses, and then, a few seconds later, giving him a nod of assent. 

Obviously you don't know Jungkook very well—not at all, really, outside of your ongoing feud with Mabel. But you didn't take him to be the type to be into playing outdoor sports, particularly in this weather, and you certainly didn't expect him to agree so easily. A smile from Namjoon and suddenly all thoughts of stealing cooler ice are gone. 

Namjoon turns back to you, but you're already shaking your head. "Nope, no thank you! Y'all have fun. I'll just supervise from over there in the shade."

"Fair enough," he chuckles, and then he's leading Jungkook across the open field to meet up with the others.

Mildly more interested in the game now, you take this as your cue to grab the beverage you came for—a can of a Lipton knockoff and a bottle of water for good measure—and return to your table.

Joy and Wendy are still yapping when you approach, though in your absence, Joy has apparently decided to move to Wendy’s side of the table. It only takes you following their line of sight to quickly recognize why—that side of the table has an unobstructed view of the upcoming soccer game. Well, unobstructed, so long as you change your seat too. Awkward about intentionally getting in the way, you pause for only a moment before ultimately reaching for the end seat perpendicular to them instead. 

When you lean over a little to pull your chair out from under the table, Joy finally deigns to acknowledge you, ticking an eyebrow. “I can see down your shirt,” she tells you offhandedly. 

Your head snaps down, and you realize she’s right—undoing those few extra buttons has made the billowy fabric more susceptible to gravity, particularly when you leaned over. You yourself could see your whole chest and the basic bra that supported it, and at this angle, you doubt your blouse covered much of that from Joy’s gaze. A hand immediately snaps up to press the material back in place, but before you can even get properly embarrassed, her attention is ripped from you, eyes wide at something behind you.

“Holy—”

Wendy's jaw drops. Your head reflexively turns in the direction they're gawking at.

And before you can stop it, your jaw drops too.

Your tablemates have been known to be dramatic, and are certainly the type to stretch a fact or two. But it’s only now that you fully understand their fixation on these Sales soccer games, because yes, sometimes they do indeed take their shirts off. Like now.

Other than one girl from Compliance, all of the game’s recruits appear to be men, and as such, the group has chosen to distinguish teams by shirts vs. skins. And while the sudden appearance of skin naturally draws most people’s attention, your attention only gravitates towards one person. Cause what the fuck.

You almost don't recognize him, your brain rapidly shuffling through the information it's collected about him over the past few months and struggling to reconcile with what your eyes are actually seeing. Because the Jungkook you know wears glasses and long sleeves and has an unassuming hairstyle that looks suspiciously like a bowl may have been involved at some point. 

But the person you're looking at now? Glasses have been discarded, apparently no longer needing optical assistance, and he’s ditched the button-up, sweat making the white sleeveless tank he has on underneath spottily transparent and divulging the dusk of his nipples. Now that you can properly see the taper of his slim waist, his shoulders are proportionally more broad than you realized. And, since he clearly has no regard for your rapidly rising blood pressure, Jungkook decides now is the perfect time to reach over said shoulders, grab fistfuls of damp fabric, and pull. The sight of him slipping the shirt over his head—the ink of his hair sinfully mussed, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement—has you reflexively swallowing, mouth dry.

He's absolutely ripped. 

There's no other way to say it. A superior specimen, built and honed in a way that's only possible through years of hard work and discipline. He's still lean enough that you can rationalize how you’ve never picked up on that amount of muscle hiding beneath his unassuming dress shirts, but you're still gobsmacked. 

Your mind spins, struggling to come to terms with the near impossible fact Jungkook actually pulled a Clark Kent on you. Well, pulled a Clark Kent if Clark Kent was also covered in gorgeous ink, pigment swirling up his right arm from wrist to shoulder. From this distance you can’t see the exact designs that make up his intricate sleeve, but you can tell it was composed with a purposeful eye. 

Jungkook is absolutely ripped and tattooed. Jungkook. Printer guy Jungkook.

Flustered and trying not to be, you quickly look away, clanking your jaw shut and trying to focus on the plastic tabletop instead. Dear god, this is embarrassing. You really just gawked at your coworker! He was minding his own business and your jaw just reflexively unhinged like a degenerate. God, you hoped he didn't see that.

But any mortification you have is apparently not shared by the other two at your table.

“Is that Justin?!” Wendy demands rather shrilly, eyes wide, and the volume of her question would embarrass you even more if your brain could process any other reaction right now other than straight static. “Justin from IT?!”

You swallow thickly, your responding correction weak and delayed. “Jungkook.” 

“Finally,” Joy groans, pushing her plate away dramatically. “Some good fucking food!”           

You can’t help it then—your eyes drift back up, lured to the soccer players once more and zeroing in on him immediately. Seemingly unable to stray from his form, the heat already producing a sheen over his golden skin even though the game hasn’t started yet.

Surrounded by a few surprised male coworkers, Jungkook’s slightly hunched into himself, shy at the sudden attention. Even with the distance, you can see how Hoseok claps Jungkook on the back, just as animated over his newly revealed physique as the members of your table. But while everyone else is excited by this revelation…

Across the field, Jungkook innocuously turns his head in your direction. Like magnets, his eyes hone in on yours, your gaze locked for a few seconds until another loud What the fuck?! from Wendy frees you from the spell and you hurriedly look away again, a completely different kind of heat washing over you.

Jesus, you need to get ahold of yourself. There’s no way he was actually looking at you—it’s too sunny, and he’s not even wearing his glasses! He probably can’t even see that far.

But when you brave another peek in that direction and realize you can literally count his abs from here—

What the fuck, indeed.

Mutely, you watch the game unfold, not as self-conscious when it becomes clear that the whole office is doing the same. Though Joy and Wendy have been very salacious in their excitement for it, the soccer game is evidently a company barbecue highlight for others as well. And you’re sure Jungkook joining the fray has only added to the interest, as he’s a completely new addition to the equation.

And to your continued astonishment, Jungkook is good. He’s fast and lithe and brazen. He proves to you, again and again, that he can kick the ball with such ferocious accuracy that the other team’s goalie eventually stops trying to get in his way and simply resorts to trying to protect their vulnerable body parts instead. His intensity only entices reciprocal energy from everyone else, and what has traditionally been a lighthearted game between coworkers has now transformed into a group of competitive men who feel they now have something to prove. 

Joy and Wendy are delighted by this development, squealing and cheering and tittering amongst themselves. You sit quietly, still trying to mentally process this new development, but when you start to feel embarrassed by just how much you’re staring, you decide to call it a day. No one really notices when you stand and gather your trash, and luckily the distraction of the game means you’re able to slip out without any fanfare.

This quarter’s barbecue being on a Friday means you’re blessed with a weekend to decompress and regroup. Unfortunately for you, the office doesn’t just…move on from the event like it has in the past. Instead, this particular barbecue was apparently such a success that you continue to hear chatter about it for the next week, mostly in passing. But while everyone else makes small talk about how much fun they had, Joy and Wendy choose to hone in on the only thing they truly consider worthy of discussion—Jungkook. 

Today, just as they have every day for the past few months, they join your table when you take your early lunch. However, to their increasing irritation, the object of their current fixation isn’t here. In fact, Jungkook hasn’t showed up to the cafeteria during your lunch time since before the barbecue, and you inwardly have to admit it’s a little strange without him. You sat at different tables and the two of you never really said much to each other beyond the expected niceties, but you’ve gotten used to his presence all the same. 

You actually have barely seen him at all, with Mabel on her best behavior this week and Jungkook seemingly busy with something that has kept him mostly out of common areas. Still, with your embarrassingly strong reaction to him at the barbecue, it’s probably for the best. You’re a little wary of what your first proper interaction is going to be like, and you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to be as normal as possible. 

Your female lunchmates don’t seem to have that same mindset.

“Does he just not eat anymore?” Joy huffs. “I literally haven’t seen him all week!”

Wendy picks at her salad, lips twisted in a displeased grimace. “I actually saw him yesterday.”

Joy’s head snaps to her. “What?! You didn’t tell me that. What happened?”

“Since casually running into him doesn’t seem to be working, I figured I’d try getting him to come to me. So I unplugged my keyboard and messaged him, but he didn’t show up for like 40 minutes,” Wendy sighs irritably. “And when he did, he looked at me like I was a moron.”

Your lips twitch in amusement before you can stop them. Joy immediately says exactly what you’re thinking. “Well, you are a moron. You sat there for 40 minutes with your keyboard unplugged!”

Wendy soldiers on like she didn't hear her, undeterred from her gossiping. “So he came over in his ugly button-up and judged me! Plugged the keyboard back in and walked away without even saying anything.”

Despite not properly running into him all week, you actually did see Jungkook’s shirt in passing yesterday as he was turning down a hallway at the far end of the office. Wendy’s right—it had been an ugly puce. You found it endearing.

“He didn’t even roll up his sleeves,” Wendy mourned. “The least Jamal could have done was give me that.”

You pause in the chewing of the tuna sandwich you brought from home, exasperated. “Jamal,” you repeat flatly. “Really?”

Wendy waves her hand at you dismissively. “You know who I mean!”

“I mean, he’ll probably be more willing to talk to you if you treat him like an actual person.” Your quip is reflexive and indignant, and it kind of throws all three of you off guard. Joy raises an eyebrow at you and your sudden vexation, but you still add, though more subdued, “You know. Making an effort to remember his name is a good start.”

“Damn, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Wendy sniffs, though she doesn’t seem very offended by your callout. Over the months you’ve superficially gotten to know her, you’ve come to notice that she doesn’t really take much seriously—a simultaneously admirable and frustrating trait. “If you wanted dibs, you could have just said that.”

You feel heat flush up your neck, denial attempting to sputter from your lips, but true to form, Wendy has already moved on, tittering about how it’s about time the office had some proper excitement that wasn’t just meetings and spreadsheets.

“And speaking of meetings,” Joy pipes up, passing you a nonchalant look, “don’t forget to order those sandwiches for the client meeting tomorrow.”

“Sandwiches?” Your mind blanks. You knew your boss was hosting some clients in the office—had even been working on a lot of grunt work to prepare for it—but no one had mentioned anything to you about any sandwiches. “I thought she was wining and dining them?”

Joy let out a mildly irritated huff. “No, they have to catch an early flight home, so the plan has changed to a working lunch. Weren’t you listening in Monday’s meeting?”

No, you hadn’t been listening, because you weren’t invited to the Monday’s meeting. So it looks like a plan had been made and tasks assigned to you…without anyone bothering to communicate that. Typical.

You close your eyes for a second, jaw working as you attempt to tamp down your ever-brewing frustration. If they intend on you ordering from the usual place, it may be too late to cater for delivery, which means you’ll probably be stuck figuring out how to transport multiple giant platters from a restaurant five blocks away. 

“Do you mind forwarding me the request you sent? I must have missed it,” you respond neutrally, knowing full well the original email had never been sent to you. You stand to leave, the rest of your lunch break instantly soured by the revelation that you apparently have time-sensitive action items that are encroaching dangerous territory. “Just want to make sure I get the order correct.”

Joy nods, attention already back on Wendy and only half-listening. In the meantime, you’ll have to research alternatives, just in case.

While you’re lucky enough to find an acceptable last-minute catering option that will also, blessedly, deliver, that doesn’t mean you’re free to take a breather. 

It’s now the end of the day, and one by one, you see everyone around you log out and head for the elevator. Even Joy, who leaves right on time, despite knowing just how many tasks your small team still needs to complete for the big meeting tomorrow. What’s left is mostly grunt work, and while you are undoubtedly a grunt, it’s been clear for a while now that Joy no longer sees herself to be included in that category. So even though having more hands on deck would speed things along considerably, she still gathers her purse and gives you a cheeky finger wave on her way out.

At some point, the cleaning lady makes her rounds, scooting past you with a murmured apology to empty your trash can, but eventually even she disappears. Hell, even the sun abandons you, the soft glow fading from all the windows and stranding you with the cold fluorescent lighting that only remains on in your part of the office, because the lights have motion detectors. 

And so it’s just you, kneeling on the carpet and surrounded by a gazillion binders. Ensuring relevant reports and Powerpoint presentations are accurate and sending digital copies to your boss for her to have on-hand. Attempting to print physical copies and assemble them into binder portfolios your clients will be able to follow along with during the meeting. 

Attempting, because Mabel is, of course, choosing now to live up to her bitchy reputation. She won’t print on the right-sized paper. She won’t collate. She won’t be cooperative at all, and you’re too exhausted for this shit. Physically and mentally exhausted, trying your hardest to rein in the frustration that’s slowly expanding in your chest, crawling up your throat and triggering a familiar burning behind your eyes. It’s not fair. 

An exasperated noise escapes you without thinking, a loud, guttural thing. None of this is fair.

“_____?”

Your head snaps over your shoulder in surprise, not at all expecting anyone else to still be in the building. It’s Jungkook, because of course it is. Brows knitted in confusion, a black leather jacket thrown over his marigold button-up for some reason. He’s standing near the doors that exit into the lobby, evidently about to begin his trek home before you unwittingly paused his endeavor.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks, but before you can even deign to answer, he’s already taken a few steps towards you and followed up with a clearly concerned, “Are you okay?”

You take a breath, struggling to calm the storm within you. None of this is his fault, nor his problem, and you should just force a smile on your face so he can be on his way and leave you to your self-pity. But you’re tired, so tired, and simply don’t have the capacity to pretend anymore. You swallow around the lump in your throat, and when you do speak, the thickness of your voice betrays the tears that you’re fighting to keep at bay. “No.”

This only seems to alarm him more. He’s standing next to you now, as close as he can get with the array of binders and papers you have scattered on the floor around you like a fortress not meant to keep anyone out, but rather, to keep you inside.

“What’s the matter?” he asks gently.

“Oh, nothing,” you snort derisively, blinking rapidly at the ceiling in an effort to try to stop the inevitable. “Nothing. It’s just well past 7pm and I’m still here in this godforsaken building attempting to print out and hole punch and assemble twenty copies of this presentation. I can’t even get the printer to do what I’m asking it to! And there’s no fucking reason I should still be here because the could have been done last week if my boss didn’t keep making nonsensical changes based solely on vibes. And tell me why there are six people on my team but no one thought to help me or take any sort of ownership of this at all—as per usual—or even buy me a fucking coffee for once! I haven’t eaten a proper meal all day but everybody just assumes they can go home because things will magically get done like they always do because they will! I will always make sure that they will! Every day it becomes increasingly clear that nobody in this fucking company gives a flying FUCK about me or my free time or my sanity—”

If he’s put off by your potty mouth, Jungkook certainly doesn’t show it. He just manages to catch your gaze from behind his glasses and simply replies, “I do.” 

Your never-ending rant rapidly dissipates on your tongue, brain struggling to comprehend what he just said. “…What?”

“I care,” he repeats softly. “How can I help?”

The sincerity in his tone renders you mute, too stunned to do anything more than watch as Jungkook drops the backpack he’s had slung over a shoulder onto the floor, tossing his newly removed jacket on top of it without much thought. He’s unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, the reemergence of an ink-covered forearm making your brain stutter even more. Now that there’s much less distance between you, you can more accurately make out the shape of a delicate tiger lily, the languid form of a snake.

Jungkook clears his throat, the noise snapping you out of your stupor and making you realize you were just staring at him in silence, for who knows how long. Dammit. “What do you need?” he tries again. 

“Um, first we can start with Mabel,” you croak, mouth now embarrassingly dry. “No matter what I do, she refuses to collate.”

Jungkook shoots you a smile that softens his whole face. “Lucky for you, I’m the printer expert, remember? Don’t worry. We’ll get this fixed and be out of here in no time.”

He holds out a hand and you reflexively grab it, allowing him to guide you to your feet. Together, you make your way to the copy room, where Mabel has stubbornly been giving you hell all night. Jungkook gets right to work pushing buttons while you stand to the side, awkwardly shifting your weight a little from foot to foot.

“So why are you still here?” you ask, curiosity finally forcing you to voice the question that’s been looping in your mind since he first appeared. “It’s late.”

“It is,” he agrees, focus still on the printer. He kneels down, opening the paper tray. “There’s this huge system update that’s set to roll out next week. My whole team has been hunkering down and pulling late nights.”

Oh. That explains why you haven’t seen him around much since the barbecue. “That’s tough.”

“We’re finally almost done,” he shrugs. “And I’m clearly not the only one working overtime.”

You don’t say anything when he looks up at you pointedly, so he turns back to the printer, pulling a stack of paper out of one of the trays.

“I think this may be part of the problem. Someone put the wrong-sized paper in here. Or, at least, Mabel thinks it’s wrong. She’s confused.”

“Well, she can join the club,” you mutter, and he puffs out a laugh, shutting the drawer and pressing some more buttons.

“Come on, let’s try again.”

Something touches your elbow, and though it shocks through you like he electrocuted you, you have the good sense suppress any embarrassing reaction to what you quickly realize is just his hand. Instead, you let him guide you back to your desk, trying not to focus too intently on the heat of his skin on yours. 

Jungkook waits for you to login to your computer, clicking around and changing some settings once you step back and allow him free rein. Then, you can hear a distant hum coming from the copier room, and you know immediately that he’s succeeded. Dutifully, he goes to check anyway, returning to you with a stack of perfectly collated paper.

“Thank god,” you groan. “Now let me just print fifty more of those so I can start organizing these binders.”

With the crisis averted and his job done, you fully expect him to gather his pile of stuff and hustle to the elevator before you can trap him into doing anything else. Instead, Jungkook goes to pick up the additional copies from the printer for you, and he actually gets down on the floor next to you to start putting everything together. He watches you assemble one binder for reference, but then he’s easily doing the same and doubling your completion speed. 

And slowly, gradually, your nervous system calms. The two of you work like a well-oiled machine in what would be comfortable silence, if your brain wasn’t so loud. Now that you’re not actively panicking, a completely different feeling starts to seep into you—embarrassment.  You can’t believe that Jungkook actually caught you on the cusp of a breakdown, during which you looked so pitiful, he felt morally obligated to stop what he was doing and help you.

“I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” you say after a while with a grimace. He’s way too nice and you’re way too pathetic. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night—I promise you don’t have to stay with me. Now that everything’s printed and organized, most of the work’s done. I should be out of here in no time.”

“Well, I promise you didn’t ruin anything. And with two of us, you can be out of here in less time than that.” He looks up with a soft smile from where he’s hole punching a stack of paper, the muffled ka-chunk of the device punctuating his point. “I don’t mind, _____. Really.”

“But I do,” you murmur, looking away. Unable to meet his eyes. “I really appreciate your help, but I feel bad taking up so much of your time.”

“Well, don’t. I didn’t really have plans tonight anyway, and I’ve been working so much that it’s probably better that I get in some socializing time.”

“Not that I’m very good company,” you snort derisively.

There’s a pause, one long enough that you wonder if he heard you. But then he’s moving a little closer to you, tipping slightly sideways to tap his shoulder against yours. Reflexively, you turn back to him, finding his eyes kind.  

“We all have our off days, and that’s okay. But they’ll dull your shine if you let them. Don’t.” He bumps your shoulder again. “Besides, you and I have to stick together, remember? Or did you not really mean it when you told me that?”

You did tell him that, didn’t you? Months and months ago. You're surprised that he even remembers that.

There's an amused quirk to his lip, one that you can't help but feel yourself soften to, even as his focus turns back to the task at hand. And all at once, you feel yourself flooded with gratitude. You've been thankful for his help this whole time, of course, but now you almost sag with it, the relief at knowing someone is finally in your corner, the sudden sense of security and support visceral and a little overwhelming.

Before you fully realize what you're doing, it's you who leans closer, aiming to give a him a grateful kiss on the cheek. But your lips don't quite land on their intended target, because just before you succeed, Jungkook unconsciously senses your increasing proximity and reflexively turns his head back to you.

It's his lips yours coincidentally brush against, the accidental kiss timid due to his surprise and your chaste intentions. But the kiss is also soft, his lips plush and rather easily yielding to yours. 

Quickly realizing your mistake, you pull back, eyes as big as saucers. You stare at him in stunned silence and he stares back, eyes all pupil.

A horrified apology is immediately crowding the back of your throat, but right before you set it free, Jungkook's Adam's apple bobs, an errant tongue absently swiping across his lips. 

Huh. This isn’t exactly the reaction of someone repulsed by an unwanted kiss. He still hasn't said anything, but he hasn't moved away from you either. He's just watching you. Waiting. 

...Waiting?

With caution but with clear intent, you lean back in, and to your surprise, he meets you halfway, noses bumping a little before he tilts his head and your lips slot perfectly together. 

This kiss is immediately different from the last. Jungkook mindlessly drops he binder he's holding, body angling more solidly towards you so he can properly meet the rapidly rising intensity. Well, meet may be the wrong word, because he's the one whose hand quickly reaches up to cradle your chin, gentle pressure a silent request to  for you to tilt your head a bit more. And when you comply with the change in angle, it's him who deepens the kiss, the slow lave of his tongue coaxing your lips to part, open and wet.

You pant hot into his mouth and he breathes you in, offering no resistance when you push even closer, hands wandering across his shoulders, fingers ghosting up the back of his neck before drifting to idly toy with the hair at his nape. He hums contentedly, not unlike a purring cat, and does it again when your tongue joins his in a slow glide. 

You lose yourself in the sensation of it all, unable to notice anything beyond the heat that is rapidly building between you like fireworks ready to explode. Your head spins, swimming with endorphins and high off the smell of him. The taste.

A playful nibble of your lip unexpectedly has a rather desperate keen escaping your throat. You pause, making to pull back in your embarrassment, but the sound only seems to activate Jungkook, who follows you in your attempted retreat, mouth chasing yours in its reluctance to part. It's only when your back finally touches the floor that you realize he's slowly guided you there. You've been in a haze, too swept into the plot of the movie you've somehow found yourself in to do anything but be pulled along.  

As naturally as breathing, your find your knees have parted, and Jungkook easily slips into the space you've created for him, almost trancelike. As if he doesn't even realize he's doing it, too focused on exploring the fever of your mouth. He's leaning most of his weight on the hands he has posted on either side of your head; even still, every single millimeter of you that does touch him is sparking like live wires, euphoric goosebumps rippling across your skin. You let out a shaky breath that fogs his glasses, but even that doesn't stop him, just makes him pull back from you just enough to be able to whip them off and toss them somewhere, wholly unconcerned.

Emboldened by this, you sling a leg over his hip, and he eagerly accepts your invitation, settling on you properly. You're covered in him now, pelvises properly flush, and now that he's caged you in, Jungkook takes the opportunity to glide his lips away from yours and trail across your jawline instead. You shiver, every atom of you buzzing at his touch, and his mouth continues its trek, sucking hot down the column of your throat with just enough pressure that you know color will bloom there later. 

Your hips reflexively jump at his ministrations, your skirt riding further up your thighs, and the hard press of him against your panties has you swallowing down a moan. He freezes for a fraction of a second, but then his hips respond to the lure of yours with a more intentional roll. A contented sound rumbles in the back of his throat, tongue dipping to meander across your collarbone.

This is crazy. This is crazy. But you can't quite find it in yourself to care much as the two of you rut against each other on the office floor, your hand gliding up his back to root in the hair at his nape. 

Your hips undulate restlessly, eager to meet the crest of his wave, and Jungkook matches your intensity, catching your earlobe between his teeth. Your shared grind is measured but deliberate, and even through his pants you can feel the hard shape of him pressing right against your aching core. A particularly pointed roll has Jungkook shuddering hot into the shell of your ear, and that is what finally tamps down the last of your restraint and triggers something much more primal.

Dizzy with want, your hands scrabble between you and aim for the button of his slacks, eager to be properly introduced to what’s underneath. But to your slow horror, Jungkook freezes at the touch, motionless for a few breathless seconds before he actually starts lifting off of you and pulling back. It’s only when he’s completely sat up and is staring at you that the full weight of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.

Holy shit. Holy shit. 

You really were just dry humping. A coworker. And you were doing it on the premises of the place that pays your fucking bills! Making out, dry humping, and you were actively aiming to do much more if he hadn't stopped you. 

What the fuck has gotten into you? 

You scrabble upright, dizzy with the mortification rapidly seeping deep into your bones. Stupidly, you blink at him, paralyzed with embarrassment but unable to look away. A deer in headlights.

Jungkook stares right back, eyes dark and all pupil. Dazedly, you wonder if you look as fucked out as he does—there’s a smattering of red across his cheeks, and his hair has been thoroughly mussed by your own hands. A tongue dips out to swipe over kiss-swollen lips, stealing your attention away from the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

And suddenly, you’re able to kickstart into gear.

“I am so sorry,” you burst out, panic nearly choking you. “That was highly inappropriate and I seriously don’t know what came over me—”

It takes you a few moments to register that he’s moved back in, and that it’s the returned press of his lips that interrupts your babbling apology before it can properly catch its stride. You’re almost too afraid to respond in kind, as if you’ll somehow scare him away again, but the insistence in his kiss practically knocks the breath from your lungs. Patiently, he coaxes your rigid lips back pliant. And only when it’s clear you won’t try to run away does he lean back a second time, but only enough to see your eyes properly.

“No,” he murmurs, breath fanning hot over you. “That was very much appropriate.” 

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, too shell-shocked by this turn of events and actively battling your triggered fight or flight response. “Um. Then…then why did you…”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed, as if he’s gathering himself. “I want to,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself, but then he’s looking right at you again, gaze heavy with resolve. “It’s just…do you mind if I try something first?”

That throws you for a loop. Your jaw opens then shuts again while you contemplate his question, as well as your answer. “I mean, I guess? It depends on what it is.”

That you don't instantly reject him visibly unwinds a tension in his body that you only now realize was there. A rather feral look crosses his face, immediately inciting goosebumps to ripple across your skin in anticipation. But then the intensity of his expression dims, edged with something more contemplative. Jungkook gives you a pensive nod then stands, looking around curiously. “Hey, where does that viper sit?”

You blink, bewildered. “…The who?”

“The one who’s always with you at lunch.” He locks eyes with you, tongue poking through his cheek. “You know. The one who’s on your team but still had no second thoughts about leaving you here tonight by yourself.”

Joy. He’s talking about Joy. 

The question makes you pause in suspicion, but you still hook a thumb towards the cubicle next to yours, on the other side of your shared wall. “There. Why?”

“No reason,” he says with a sly grin, holding out a hand to you. You take it without question and he easily helps you to your feet. But then before you can process it, he’s slid both hands around your waist and easily lifted you off the ground, already in route to the exact cubicle you called out. You yelp in surprise, your arms reflexively circling his neck—your legs, his middle—in your body’s scramble for balance. But Jungkook’s hold on you is secure, grip moving down to the back of your thighs instead, and now that your chests are once again flush, you can actually feel his chuckle. His amusement provokes yours, and you can’t help but giggle as he carries you over to Joy’s cube as easily as if you weigh nothing.

Clearly, his exercise routine is working out for him.

After using a hand to sweep some objects out of the way, Jungkook carefully sets you down on Joy’s desk, right next to her monitor. Your mirth only grows at the feeling of whatever printouts she left for later review crinkling under your weight, at the sight of displaced pens rolling off the edge and disappearing to the ether that is the floor.

Jungkook has set you down, but he doesn’t pull away, just leans down and recaptures your eager lips. He’s tall enough that he’s kind of hunching over to kiss you, neck really craned, but he doesn’t seem to care much about that, kissing you with the same ferocity as moments before, when the two of you were entangled on the carpet. And you can’t help but match his fervor, hands reaching to guide his slim hips even closer, into the widening gap you naturally create for him between your legs. 

Time constricts and expands, an endless and meaningless concept. Because all that matters now is the tongue he slips past your lips to slide against yours, slowly, like he’s savoring the taste of you. All that matters is how fucking great he smells—like clean laundry and smoke and warm skin speckled with sweat—something you’ve always caught whiffs of, but now completely surrounds you, invading all your senses and sending your lust into overdrive. 

“Is this what you wanted to try?” you pant hotly when your lips finally separate for a moment in your quest for air. “Defiling Joy’s desk?”

He’s leaning his forehead against yours while he also attempts to catch his breath, and he’s so close that it would be hard for you to miss his amused flash of teeth. “Sort of. I’d like to defile it more thoroughly, though. Starting with this.” 

Jungkook leans in for one last kiss, one that starts at your mouth, moves to your neck, and to your surprise, continues down the line of your body. Over your collarbone, careful hands popping open a few buttons of your blouse so he can nestle more surely into the curve of your breasts, warm lips skating across eager skin. For a few moments, he actually nuzzles his face into your middle, a gesture you find rather sweet before he incites a shiver through your body by licking against your clothed navel. And before you can fully realize what’s happening, he’s slipped to his knees.

You look down at him in surprise, body still slotted between your legs, but this time more eye-level with the secret, needy part of you that has been thrumming excitedly with every beat of your heart. “What are you…”

“You’re always doing everything for everyone else,” comes his murmured reply. “Will you allow me to do something for you?”

Your brain is still so hazy from the spell of his mouth that it takes you a moment to recognize what’s happening. What he’s asking for. But when his large palms are hot against the naked skin of your thighs, gentle pressure urging them to part even more, it all hits you like a truck. Your eyes dart around, paranoid. “Jungkook,” you hiss. “…Here?”

“They’re too cheap to put cameras anywhere other than the lobby.” He turns his head, lips pressing reassurance into the side of your knee. “And no one’s here.” His reminder as gentle as the kisses he continues to adorn you with. “Just you.” Kiss. “And me.”

He’s right, you know. No one else is here to witness the series of bad decisions you’ve just made—to witness the ones you’re still seriously considering. 

Still, you hesitate.

Jungkook’s staring intently at you, doe-eyed and cherry-lipped and deceptively innocent despite what he’s requesting of you. “Please?” he asks again, oh-so-sweetly. Reverently prostrating before your altar, praying for the blessing of an ambivalent goddess. You. “I just…I really want to. Ever since that day, I can’t stop thinking about it and I—please?”

Your brows furrow as you try to make sense of what he’s saying, still scrambling to keep up with this current turn of events. What day? Your mind whirrs, jumping around before finally settling on an embarrassing memory you’ve willed yourself to forget. 

Lunch, where Wendy somehow got you to admit you’ve never gotten head, and Jungkook, purportedly oblivious, too busy on his phone to ever pay your table any attention. 

…Except from what he’s saying right now, he had heard every word. Heard, and filed it away for safekeeping, only revealing to you now, when he can possibly do something about it.

Absently, your tongue dips out to swipe across your lips, and Jungkook’s attention visibly strays towards the action, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your thighs and sending electricity straight to your core. God, do you want to say yes. Even though you’ve never done this before, your inexperience is not at all the reason for your reluctance. It’s the optics. You’re at work.

Your head tilts as you try to accurately take stock of the situation. You’re at work. But technically, you should have clocked out hours ago. Technically, this job has been stealing a lot of time that should have been yours to choose what to do with. Case in point—you’re the only person on your team still within a five-mile radius of this godforsaken building. Because everyone else deserted you without a second thought, designating you to be the one who struggles to print presentations for a meeting that has been on the calendar for literal months.

But. 

While it’s easy to assume they forced this fate upon you, Fate is not one easily compelled to do another’s bidding. And, trapped in the gaze of the sweet man still patiently awaiting permission to ruin you, you can’t help but wonder if this has been Her plan all along. 

For months you’ve been doing everything for everyone else, so unhappy and stressed that each day in this place only wound you tighter and tighter. So…what if you finally just let yourself snap? Did what you wanted for once? Stopped following the rules that nobody else ever seemed to and just let go? 

You exhale. Fuck it.

“Okay.”

Jungkook grins, boyishly innocuous at first, but rapidly morphing into something much more devilish as you watch. He turns to kiss your knee again, and you startle a little at the action, newly on edge. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, still holding your gaze. Making sure you can see his resolve. “I got you.” 

“Okay,” you say again, but that’s easier said than done, especially when he takes the opportunity to gently push your knees even further apart. Naturally, your skirt rides further up, and you can’t help the apprehension that washes over you at your increasing lack of modesty. Still, you hold true to your word, aggressively tamping down the urge to scramble off the desk and pretend this all never happened. But though you brace yourself for what comes next…

Jungkook doesn’t move.

Long moments pass before you can’t help but say something. “Are you just gonna look?” Because that’s all he seems to be doing, laser-focused on the juncture of your thighs.

He visibly stirs at the sound of your voice, but still doesn’t do much more than tsk at you. “Don’t rush me,” comes his light reprimand, eyes still locked on what you’re sure at this point is a growing dark spot on your panties. “I don’t half-ass things and I definitely won’t rush this. No one’s here, so just relax and enjoy the ride.”

Your jittery nerves have you reflexively mouthy, but your retort swiftly dies on your tongue when his hand finally moves further up your skirt—further inward—and two fingers pointedly press right against that dark spot and glide over your clothed lips. You gasp, fighting against the urge to snap your legs shut when he slowly circles your clit and sends sparks dancing down your legs. 

“Better?” he murmurs.

“Much,” you squeak.

“Good,” he says, eyebrows knitted in thought as he circles and circles. Your thighs twitch, and he leans forward like he can’t help himself, nose pressing solidly against you with a long, audible inhale.

A fascinated oh falls from your lips, heartbeat accelerating excitedly in your ears, but Jungkook only responds by nestling further against your pussy, tracing the length of your lips with a slow, wet swipe of his tongue through the fabric. He breathes hot against your clit and you inadvertently buck at the stimulation, only inciting the wicked curl of his lips. He looks up at you darkly through the curtain of his bangs, and something unexpected and primal simmers beneath your skin.

“Can I have these?” he asks huskily, lightly snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin. 

You clear your throat, suddenly wishing you had the foresight to put on something more interesting today than your unassuming cotton undies. “Have as in you won’t give them back?”

He lets out an amused puff of air, tilts his head. “I haven’t decided yet.”

You nod your assent. You’re now impossibly invested in where he plans to take this, and it’s not like you don’t have more pairs at home. “Knock yourself out.”

Immediately, his hands are up your skirt. They’re big, but they’re also gentle, caressing your thighs and even taking a slight detour to the meat of your ass before continuing their mission to the band of your underwear. When he starts to pull, you help him, shifting your weight so he can slip the fabric over your hips and down your legs.

Jungkook’s Adam’s apple dips when his eyes are finally able to feast on you without a barrier. “So fucking hot,” he mutters, almost to himself, and then without further warning, his mouth seals around your sex.

You whimper in surprise, not at all used to the sensation of someone kissing you there. And kiss you he does, carefully at first, judging your reaction. But when you do nothing but grip the edge of the desk, biting your lip in an attempt to stifle the rather desperate sounds crawling up your throat, he swiftly devolves into kissing you with the same passion as he had the lips on your face. His tongue laps at you with sure, even strokes, dragging across the seam of you and then through it, making sure to slide along your clit on every upstroke. 

Your breath quickens, jaw falling slack. You weren’t sure what you imagined oral sex to be like before this, but you never expected how easily your body submits to his ministrations. Almost without you realizing it, your thighs part even more, hips automatically canting down to meet his eager mouth. A hand reaches for him, fingers winding through his hair and rooting there, and Jungkook hums in approval, his own hands wrapping securely around your thighs, your ass. His fingers sinking into the yielding softness of you, gently holding you steady against his face while you start to gyrate and moan.

God, does he look good down there. He’s always looked good, even before you knew what he was hiding behind those shy smiles and nerdy glasses, but something about the sight of him, jaw working as he sucks on you, lashes fluttering in pleasure in his quest to please you—

Without warning, he detaches with an audible pop, and a disgruntled sound reflexively leaves you. Breathless, you start to ask him why he stopped, but the words die on your tongue when you realize he’s staring at you again. That he pulled back for a moment just so he can get a good look at the mess he’s making of you. So he can properly see how your pussy aches and drools for him.

“Good?” he asks, voice deep and thick.

“So fucking good,” you sigh. What you know he wants to hear, but also 1000% the truth. You’re starting to understand what Wendy has been blathering about, but is it always like this? Or is it Jungkook in particular who is making you so unbelievably aroused? Is your rapidly snowballing crush on him that strong, or does pussy eating simply rank high on his skillset?

As if he can hear your thoughts, Jungkook moves to slip a finger into you, and you can’t help but moan when he breaches you, the digit sliding in so easily that he quickly adds another, thumb pressing surely into your clit as he starts a slow drag in and out. 

“Shit,” you shudder, eyes rolling back into your head. Hips sliding further off the desk, reflexively seeking the delicious stimulation. One of your hands scrabbles across the desk, unconsciously trying to root you, and you’re much too preoccupied with how good he’s making you feel to notice when you accidentally knock over a mug full of pens. A stapler clanks to the ground. “Fuck.” 

“Look, baby,” he breathes, moaning along with you when the pet name immediately makes your pussy flutter. “Look.”

At his encouragement, you do. You watch the flex of his tattooed arm as his fingers continue to disappear within you, a lewd squelch coinciding with his movements. You watch as he adds another finger, the additional stretch immediately noticeable but even more delicious. You watch him watch you, eyes all pupil, lips swollen and slick with your desire.

“More,” you whine, frenzied and greedy. And Jungkook immediately heeds your call, leaning back in. He sucks on your clit with three fingers sunk in you, expertly crooked towards your pelvic bone, and you jolt, accidentally knocking something else off the desk. Neither of you pays the resulting clattering any attention, too wrapped up in the way you writhe at his ministrations. He hums in approval, the vibrations only intensifying your ecstasy. He flattens his tongue as your hips desperately circle, letting you control the stimulation. And when it’s clear you still need more, he changes tactics and rapidly laps at you instead, as if you’re a melting ice cream cone, while he beckons, beckons. 

Your blood is volcanic, hot pressure bubbling beneath the prison of your skin, building and building within your core. The higher he takes you, the more the grip you have on his hair unintentionally tightens, but that only seems to urge him on, locking eyes with you as the thrust of his fingers turns harder and more calculated. Giving you no other choice but to finally erupt.    

You cum with a loud groan, gasping through it while your cunt rhythmically clamps down on his digits, hard. Jungkook talks you through it, murmuring encouraging words your buzzing brain has trouble deciphering because his hand still doesn’t stop, pounding right into your g-spot and making your eyes cross and toes curl with the force of it. And when you finally can’t take anymore, jerking with oversensitivity, you grab him by the wrist in a wordless plea for mercy.

And Jungkook grants it. You can tell that he wants to play with you more—wants to guide you over and over to the precipice just see the look on your face when he shoves you off—but ever the gentleman, he reins in his enthusiasm and obediently slips his fingers out of you. He takes a few seconds to admire his handiwork, eyes shining with in reverence as he marvels in the dripping, throbbing, panting aftermath that is you.

“Wow,” you say, still dizzy with endorphins. Never in a million years did you think it would feel like that.

“Yeah,” he agrees, voice thick. “Wow.” He lifts his hand, remnants of you visibly slicking his fingers and webbing between the digits, and without a second thought, sticks them in his mouth and sucks. The resulting slurping of his errant tongue is nothing short of obscene, but your cunt flutters again anyway, interest clear despite being thoroughly satisfied only moments before. And when line of your essence starts to drip down your thigh, Jungkook makes sure to lean in and catch it with his tongue.

You shiver with the feeling of him on you again, mouth hot and wet, thighs still trembling. He’s taking his time, tongue dragging a slow path back up to the source, determined to feast upon the rewards of his efforts. But you can’t take it anymore. God, he’s so hot. He’s so fucking hot and you want him so fucking bad.

You need him. Biblically. 

Near delirious, you reach for him, hands scrabbling across his shoulders, fingers trailing the back of his neck and guiding him to stand. Arms circling his waist and pulling him closer to you—close, close—Jungkook easily slotting into spread of your thighs.

He follows your unspoken commands easily and without question, looking down at you with a rather pleased smile that crinkles his eyes in the corners. Determined to steal the breath from his lungs, just as he just did to you, you lean in to lick that smile pliant and open. There’s a curious taste on his tongue that it doesn’t take long to deduce is you, and that’s only even more of an aphrodisiac, revving you up further. 

Your hands continue to roam, sliding down a little to grope his backside, startling a laugh out of him. But when your fingers tease the waistband of his slacks, his delight visibly shutters away into something else entirely.

“You don’t have to do that,” he breathes, even as he reflexively bucks into the hand you’re using to palm him over his pants. “This was about you.”

“Then let it be about me,” you counter, a mischievous smile curling your lips. Even through his pants you can tell he's hard. That he wants this just as badly as you do.  Still, when he gasps out a wait, you obediently stop your ministrations and move to take your hand back. 

He doesn't let you get far, lacing his fingers through yours and visibly considering his next words for a few moments before settling on, “What do you need?” 

It’s a simple enough question, but you can't help but be immediately reminded of him saying these exact words to you, a little over an hour ago. Now, however, they sit heavy on his tongue, heady and syrupy in hushed invitations. 

The revelation hits you all at once, heart pounding excitedly in your ears.

You need only ask. You’ve only ever needed to ask.

And since all caution was thrown to the wind the moment you agreed to let him suck your soul out through your pussy...

“You said you’ve been thinking about me? Well, I’ve been thinking about you too. For a while, even though I’ve been trying not to.” 

You’ve had his attention this whole time, but the way Jungkook's regarding you now, now that you’ve said that? He's hanging onto every word, so hyper-focused that it would unnerve you if this wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. 

“So…” Adrenaline has your fingers restless against his, but you still dive headfirst. “What I need is for you to fuck me and finish what you started.”

A beat. One where he holds your gaze, the space between you so electrified that you’re surprised you don’t see sparks. But then he’s on you again, mouth meeting yours in a frenzied clash of lips and teeth, and this time he doesn’t stop you when your hands scrabble for his fly.

Jungkook wastes no time, smoothing his hands up your legs and pushing your skirt out of the way. He lets out a shuddered breath when you stroke him through his underwear, when you reach down the waistband and grip him properly.

He’s warm and thick in your hand, and the thought of him finally in your guts damn near has you vibrating. Just like you thought before, he’s already nice and hard, but you still pump him a few times just to revel in the proof of what you’ve done to him. Velvet over stone.

And despite having all the time in the world when the foreplay is for you, Jungkook doesn’t seem to have any patience for himself. You’re only able to enjoy the weight of him in your grip for a few passes before he’s surging into action. Strategically, he grabs you by the knees and lifts, maneuvering your legs into the crooks of his elbows. The move opens you up to him further and forces you more horizontal, leaning back on your forearms, nearly pressed against the cubicle wall.  

The way he ate you out moments before ensured you’d be primed for him, your pussy soft and slick and just begging to be filled. When he finally lines himself up and begins the slow press in, your jaw immediately falls open, tongue going lax at the intense pleasure. “Oh my god,” you manage to whine, eyes threatening to roll shut.

The unhurried way he’s sinking into you is likely in effort not to unintentionally hurt you. Because after everything else, why not add another thing to the ever growing list of surprises you’re learning about your unassuming coworker—not only has he been tatted and muscular this whole time, but his dick is also fucking huge. Without even realizing it, you’ve stopped breathing, the pressure of him nudging your walls apart too much stimulation for your body to continue even subconscious functioning. 

As if he can tell your brain is actively short-circuiting, Jungkook’s hands circle your thighs, thumbs kneading the flesh in mild distraction for when he finally bottoms out. It’s only now that you can properly notice the effect you’re having on him—hair starting to stick to his forehead from perspiration, teeth grit as he struggles to stay still for you.  But you don’t want him to be still.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, wiggling in your impatience and making him suck in a breath. “Please. Give it to me.”

The resulting roll of his hips has him swearing and you seeing stars. “Fuck. You can have whatever you want,” he says, already making good on his promise with a slow grid. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

It’s good, so good, especially because Jungkook uses his grip on your thighs as leverage to ramp up his thrusts, easily maneuvering you over his cock in a way that has your toes curling. By the time he’s really fucking you—jaw set, brows furrowed in concentration—you’re crosseyed and mewling incoherently. You should be embarrassed by the sounds he’s pounding out of you, but you’re so focused on the overwhelming pleasure that you can’t find it in yourself to care very much. 

Chasing the high you already feel him leading you towards, you lift one of your legs to change the angle, and he catches on immediately, helping guide your ankle to hook over his shoulder with a distracted kiss against the bone. And it’s deeper this way, the angle ensuring he brushes against your spongy nerves with every stroke, only making you spiral faster. 

He notices, of course. Notices how quickly he’s taking you to your end and revels in it, sliding a hand inward and he thumbing your clit, fast and hard.

You jolt at the extra stimulation, gasping and overwhelmed. “Oh my goddd…”  

“Come on,” he croons, his dulcet tone at odds with the wickedness of his hand. His dick. “Don’t you want to cum for me?”

“I…” you choke out, struggling to form any sort of coherent thought as you feel everything get tighter. “I…”

You see his lips moving as he presumably says something else. But you can’t understand anything other than your own moaning when your pussy finally locks down. This orgasm is somehow more intense than the last one, your thighs rippling with the force of it, your hands desperately scrabbling over the desk in an effort to find something to ground you. 

And Jungkook fucks you through it, still talking, and it’s only when the whooshing in your ears starts to subside that you can finally decipher what he’s saying in between his own moaning. “There you go. Being so good for me. So good.”

Your only reply is your gasping breath as your orgasm slowly fades, replaced with oversensitivity. But you don’t want him to stop. You don’t want this to stop, reveling in the feel of him on you, in you. And Jungkook doesn’t, instead sliding your leg off his shoulder so he can grab you by the waist with both hands and properly yank you forward, moving you over his cock to his liking. 

The desk creaks with your effort, a rhythmic cacophony with the harsh smacking of his balls against your ass. You mewl, needing him closer still, and curl your legs around his hips, locking your ankles. He’s now trapped against you, but he groans like that’s exactly what he wanted, both hands gliding up the length of your body to grasp the back of your neck instead, giving him even better leverage to plunge into you, deep, deep. He leans down and rests his forehead against yours, licks into your panting mouth. 

At this point, his thrusts are turning manic, but you’re meeting every one of them, deliriously following him in his descent into madness. But when he catches your lower lip with his teeth, your breath hollows, and then, quicker than you can register it’s happening, you cum again, spasming around him with a long, high-pitched whine.

Jungkook lets you ride it out, but this time, his thrusts slow while you thrash. And it’s not until your soul finally floats back into your body that you realize he’s already pulled out of you and is bucking into his own fist instead.  

You almost took him over the edge with you, you realize. Though he clearly has incredible stamina, you have finally brought him to his limit, and everything inside you glows at the knowledge that he’s here, roughly pumping himself, moans falling freely from his lips because of you. 

Entranced, you reach for him, delighting in the whimper he lets out when your fingers wrap around his base. His own hand immediately falls to grip the edge of the desk instead, and you glide your fist up, finding his cock sticky with your juices. Jungkook just rests his head in the crook of your neck and lets you jack him off, whining through it when you match his previously punishing pace. And it doesn’t take long before he finally, finally splashes hot over your hand. Against your thigh. 

Your hand slows, twisting your wrist and milking him for every drop. Intent on extending his pleasure, just like he made sure to do for you. And you only stop when he flinches away from your touch, twitchy and shivering as he leans against you. 

Reluctantly, you let go. The two of you share the same balmy breath, struggling to calm your racing hearts. And when Jungkook finally backs away from you, unhurried in the way he gathers himself back into his slacks, there is a wildly satisfied grin on his face.

You’re satisfied too, though you try to have some sense of propriety and use a tissue from the box next to Joy’s monitor to wipe off the sticky evidence of his pleasure. Throwing away the evidence, you hop off the desk, locating your long-discarded panties and slipping them back on, smoothing down your skirt.

“So,” you tease lightly. Your head swims a little with the knowledge of what you just did, but you’re surprised to realize you feel zero guilt about it. “Is your plan to stick it to everyone who’s wronged me? If so, we should do it on Mabel next. That’ll show her.”

Jungkook laughs, a giddy, giggly thing. He’s now doing his best to pick up and replace everything that fell from Joy’s desk during your romp. “Nah, I could never disrespect her like that. That ol’ girl’s been such a great wingman these past few months.”

That’s a rather curious statement to make. You frown a little, shoot him an inquisitive sound.

“You always call me when Mabel’s not working,” he shrugs. “So when I wanted to see you, she was nice enough help.” 

You can’t help it—a smile creeps across your face, equally bashful and flattered. He wanted to see you! For months, by his open admission. “And the printer knew exactly when you wanted to see me?" you joke. “Sounds like dark magic to me.”

Jungkook’s valiantly trying to straighten and smooth out some of the papers the two of you disturbed. “Deleted some print jobs,” he replies offhandedly, clearly distracted by the task at hand. 

Record scratch. 

There’s an extended silence as your brain shuffles through different iterations of his sentence, trying to decipher exactly he meant by that. Because there's no way he just admitted to what you think he just did. “Did…did you just say you've been deleting my print jobs?” you ask incredulously. Because there’s no way.

There’s no way, yet at your words, Jungkook immediately stiffens. His lips part, but he doesn't defend himself. Doesn't say anything at all—just drops the pen he’s holding and stares at you with wide eyes.

Holy shit. Holy shit. He really has been doing it! He obviously hadn't meant to tell you that, but the relaxation of afterglow has clearly removed the filter between his brain and his mouth. 

The weight of his revelation hits you, seemingly happenstance events connecting in your mind and starting to fall into place. All the hassle and irritation that stupid printer has been giving you, and it turns out Mabel has been working just fine?! 

“Please don't be mad,” he pleads, finally finding his voice.  

“Are you seriously saying that all this time—”   

“No! No, I only did it a few times,” he sheepishly rushes to correct you. “And I promise, I haven’t done it in weeks.”

“Seriously?” 

“I just...wanted an excuse to talk to you!”

“Jungkook, you literally talk to me all the time!”

“About work! Not—” he averts his eyes, lets out an irritated breath. “It’s just. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out.”

You blink, gaping slightly as your whirring mind tries to process what he’s just told you. “Ask me…out?” 

“I didn’t mean to do…all this.” He waves a hand over the mess the two of you are still cleaning up, clearly embarrassed. “I mean, at least not before buying you dinner first.”

Moments pass as you stare at him in stunned, disbelieving silence. Then, like a volcano erupting, laughter bursts from you, loud and sudden. Because what the fuck? You can’t believe all of this is actually happening to you. In real life. “You jackass,” you cackle. “Do you have any idea how much grief that printer has been giving me? I’m over here stressed and you’ve been gaslighting me and doing it on purpose?”

“Just a few times,” he repeats, visibly confused by the juxtaposition of the mirth in your voice and the actual words you’re saying. 

“And that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a jackass,” you laugh. “But…” You clear your throat, suddenly somehow shy, despite everything that has occurred and been said. “…I suppose you can still take me out to dinner.”  

“Yeah?” His lips stretch into a slow, hopeful smile.

“Yeah. Now, if you want. I think we’re pretty much done here.” You smile back, quickly taking stock of the binders still scattered across the floor. Most of them are completed, but whatever else you need to do can be done tomorrow morning. “Besides, I seem to have worked up an appetite.” 

Jungkook looks nothing short of smug, but you suppose you can’t fault him that. “Well then,” he practically purrs, “Let’s hurry up and feed you.” 

Moving in comfortable silence, the two of you finish putting everything you’ve disturbed back in their original spots, gathering the last of the binders and stacking them neatly on your desk. You reach for your purse while Jungkook goes to collect his hastily discarded belongings.

“So,” you start. “Where are you taking me? It’s kind of late.” This late on a weeknight, kitchens would be shutting down soon.

He pauses in sliding his leather jacket back on, frowning a little as he realizes you’re right. “Shit,” he mutters. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”

“You can,” you say with an unbothered wave of your hand. “That can be next time. Let’s just find something quick now.”

“So you’re saying I get a second date?” he grins.

Oh. That is what you just implied, isn’t it? You would be embarrassed by how forward you were being if Jungkook wasn’t visibly delighted by it. Wow, he really does like you. And since the feeling is mutual, you just look away coyly and say, “If you play your cards right.”

Jungkook hoists his backpack over a shoulder, and it’s only then that you see what else he happened to be carrying in his hands when he dropped everything for you. A helmet.

You gesture towards the object with a curious incline of your head. “What’s that for?”

“My bike,” comes his easy answer, but that’s not the kind of helmet that one wears for bicycle rides. No, this one is made for something much faster. 

Now that you think about it, you’ve seen the motorcycle in the parking lot before—you’ve just never really given it a second thought. And now you can’t stop thinking about it, because the unassuming vehicle you’ve often passed on your way into the building has been Jungkook’s the whole time. Your mind is blown. How many more times is he going to surprise you tonight?  

“…Do you always drive a motorcycle?” you ask incredulously.

“Depends on the day,” he shrugs with grin. “Sometimes I take the bus, but I like to ride my bike when the weather’s nice.” His eyes are bright with pride, visibly happy to have impressed you. 

Your mouth opens and closes, thoughts racing so fast your tongue struggles to hold onto any of them. Before you realize you’re doing it, you blurt, “Alright. Are you even real?”

Jungkook blinks owlishly at you, clearly not expecting that question. “What?” 

“I thought I’ve known you for months. But was any of that real?” you repeat. “Hell, do you even need glasses?”

“Of course,” he rushes to say. “It’s all me. I can just be a little shy, is all.” Wow, he actually said shy with a straight face, as if he didn’t just finish ravaging you over multiple surfaces. “And I like to be professional, so this place doesn’t get to have all facets of me. I know you can relate.”

You can. Your constant struggle to not complain? To be professional and work hard and hope you’ll be rewarded for your efforts? Obviously that’s a reason why the two of you ended up in this situation in the first place.

He ducks his head a little, tapping the glasses he picked up off the floor in petition for their validity. “And these really are prescription. I mean, I can mostly see without them, but since I stare at computer screens all day, it’s less strain on my eyes.”

“Oh,” you say quietly, feeling silly to have even asked. But who knew the quiet IT guy who kept mostly to himself was also this? Buff and tatted with a wicked tongue that you’re now intimately acquainted with. 

Shyly, he holds his helmet out to you. He hesitates before speaking again, almost like he’s afraid of spooking you. “Wanna go for a ride?” And from the way color lightly blooms across his cheeks, you get the sense that he’s offering you more than just protective gear.

You take it without second thought.

The next day you and Jungkook get off the elevator together, a respectable distance between you, but arms still brushing too often to be casual. When you come to the hallway that will force you in separate directions, you pause.

“Have a good day,” you say. Jungkook grins, the delighted brightness of it baring too much teeth and crinkling his eyes in the corners.

“You too,” he winks. “Let me know if Mabel gives you any more issues.”

You snort at his brazenness, biting down a smile as you head to your cubicle. Your whole body buzzes, glowing from inside out.

You’re technically right on time, but you’ve definitely arrived later than usual, and that’s obvious when you head over to your department and find Joy already there waiting for you. She frowns as you approach, no doubt clocking your empty hands and wondering how she’s going to make it through the morning without her expected syrupy caffeine fix. 

To her credit, she doesn’t call you out on it, but you don’t really care if she does. You’re done playing errand boy. From now on, everyone else will have to stop before work and get their own shit, if they want it so bad.

Because it’s all so clear to you now. You’re here, and you’re going to do your best, but you’re not going to let this place wear you down to jaded slivers. You’re going to work hard and learn all that you can, but you refuse to be anyone’s lapdog. 

They will respect you. And your value will be recognized and rewarded—or you’ll simply find somewhere else where it will. 

Joy must sense your new resolve, because she simply hovers by your desk and chirps, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” 

“Did you have a good night?”

Your lips quirk. “You could say that. What about you?”

“Eh, it was okay,” she sighs. “Met a guy for dinner, but I don’t think that’s going anywhere.” 

So while you were stuck here last night, having a grade-A meltdown, she was on a date. That tracks.

Joy chatters on while you put your things away, not seeming to notice or care that you’re not particularly interested in what she’s saying. And while this would normally irritate the living shit out of you, today, it doesn’t. 

Today, your eyes can’t help but glaze over as your mind drifts back to how your night went. Today, you just hum agreeably until she gets bored with you and decides to go back to her own cubicle.

And when you hear her ask over the wall if you’ve seen her stapler, you just smile and smile.   

⇢ my masterlist

[ohhowjooniewept]

co-parent jk x bratty y/n

one shot - tension, smutty — 13k>

warning: slutty dilf

—

whoever told you coparenting was hard was a fucking loser.

a concept you truly couldn’t bring yourself to understand in any capacity, considering your coparenting situation was one most dreamt about.

you know you were probably privileged considering the horror stories you’d heard online that felt more like a nightmare than actual reality - you’d never experienced any screaming matches over custody, no passive aggressive texts sent at heinous hours of the night, no awkward handovers that made you uncomfortable. you had your ex husband wrapped around your little finger; a fact both you and he relished in openly.

in fact, your initial divorce from jeon jungkook had only confused people. despite the signed papers between you symbolising an end of the relationship over two years ago, nothing about your dynamic functioned as though you were exes.

you were both polar opposites, two people that came from a different walk of life and so it was a well known fact that neither of you would last as a married couple, and yet here you were, orbiting one another as though the prospect of otherwise was too foreign to entertain.

the best way to describe jungkook was manly. he embodied the very meaning of it - half mechanic, other half beast with rough edges and broad hands, grease permanently smeared on his skin. his large frame was covered in tattoos, beefy arms flexing as he’d work whilst his dark hair would constantly fall into his eyes because he’d forget to go to the barber until you all but forced him to go.

he owned his own mechanics company, the biggest in the city, which meant he worked like a dog but he earned good enough money to spoil you rotten. nothing had really changed after the divorce other than a formal understanding. he paid for your entire lifestyle, making sure you used his card for the groceries, the upkeep of your once shared home, your stupid skincare orders and of course, your sweet children.

jungkook’s only rule pending the divorce was made incredibly clear to you. he was the sole provider. him and only him.

you genuinely wondered whether his personal nightmare consisted of you working a shift with the way he’d get angry at you spending your own money, queuing another heavy argument that had you all but icing him out for a full day. enough to have him kissing down your neck in apology, all whilst groping your ass the way you secretly loved.

truthfully, he had never known how not to provide for you.

it lived somewhere deep inside of him, carved into his very being and instinct, so much so he thought it defined him as a man. once you had birthed your twin children, it was like something had switched in his brain to amplify it all that much harder. despite no longer being his wife, he supported you and the children, telling you it was the one thing he wouldn’t let you fight him on.

you were a princess to the core. manicured nails, weekly blowouts and a shopping addiction that only spurred jungkook on to work harder - you were his polar opposite, never having worked too hard a day in your life and he wanted to keep it that way. even your children were a gift from above, so well behaved and sweet that you had never struggled with them, loving nothing more than to pamper and shower them with all of your love.

you were an odd family unit, even you could recognise that, with your coparenting dynamic meaning he had unrestricted access to your home. he was over multiple times a week after work, always using the excuse of wanting to see the kids which of course was half true, but really, any access to you was worth making the journey over. you kept his stomach full and his annoyance high, just how he liked it.

no matter how well you were together, being married just didn’t work. he worked too hard, you pushed too much - you both wanted things from the other that seemed impossible, leaving you in limbo where all you’d do is argue. it would always end with him inside of you, but sex could only fix so much. somehow, not being together had only strengthened the tension between you as you made it your life mission to keep him on his toes, and he made sure you’d feel his presence no matter what.

in theory, you were perfect for each other.

because the thing about jeon jungkook is he liked his woman difficult.

liked when you bitched at him with glossy lips and french tips all curled onto your hips, scoffing at whatever he was telling you before taking his card to online shop. it was even better when you’d stomp around the house in your flimsy little pyjamas, pretending to be annoyed at him over stupid things he knew had no merit - it had him hardening beyond words.

you were his little minx, and he fucking loved it.

—

“mamma, daddy said i could stay up until nine today.” your son, minjae, giggled from his seat beside his sister on the couch, their favourite show playing on the screen.

“daddy’s stupid, baby. we don’t listen to him.” you cooed back as you handed them their snacks, the sound of your kids giggling enough to put a grin on your face.

“heard that.”

the deep voice came before you actually saw him, followed by the sound of heavy work boots by the door of your home. within seconds, you watched as he appeared by the doorway, in all of his obnoxiously masculine glory.

jeon jungkook practically swallowed your doorway whole as he stepped into the living room. broad shoulders were the first thing you saw as they stretched the material of his work t-shirt, his brand logo clear on his chest, the navy a fitting contrast to his tanned skin. his hair was messy, pulled back from his face, faint traces of grease still staining his forearms where he had scrubbed clean just minutes ago.

he was just so big. big hands, big biceps, big thighs - his muscles were something that you could never really get over, something he was very much privy to. he was the sort of man who reached for things on the top of the shelf without thinking, carrying both children with such ease that it had you malfunctioning in real time. his voice was low, gruff. the type that had people listening as though he was a natural leader.

a beast of a man.

“daddy!” minji, your little girl, squealed as she carefully placed her plate next to her before scurrying away to launch herself at him.

jungkook’s entire face softened, letting out a soft laugh as he picked her up, all whilst minjae copied his older sister, instead cupping his legs, much shyer than his overexcited sibling.

he cooed at them, his voice dropping low whilst he ruffled his hair affectionately. your children absolutely adored him, both sweet little things that glowed whenever their dad would appear.

you could never get over how good of a father he was, and despite your relationship not always being the best, he prioritised your children the way you wanted. even the way he provided for you, as the mother of his children, was beyond generous and underneath the bitchy attitude, you were grateful tenfold. he treated you three like you were a natural extension of him.

but unfortunately for him, you were simply unable to let him live in peace.

“you’re late.” you murmured casually from the couch, going back to filing your nails.

jungkook’s eyes lifted to yours. narrowing. he lingered, looking you up and down openly, hungrily, as though the prospect of you getting on his nerves whilst looking the way you did was straight out of a fantasy.

“traffic.”

“mm.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed a little.

“nothing.” you hummed again, all too casual, but he could see what you were doing.

that didn’t stop him falling victim to it.

“been here three seconds and you’re already being bitchy.”

you gasped dramatically, pointing your nail file in his direction as it became your turn to narrow your eyes into slits. “watch your mouth in front of the children!”

“but mamma, you called daddy stupid.” minjae, your sweet angel inquired with a tone of genuine confusion, the two words falling into the same category in his mind.

jungkook watched as you cooed at him, getting up from your seat to plant a big kiss to his cheek, before reciprocating it with his sister too who giggled.

“that’s because your daddy is stupid, my love.”

he scoffed again at you with a shake of his head, muttering something under his breath that earned him a hefty glare from yourself. he put minji down finally, his hand still on minjae’s head affectionately only for the pair to grab at his hands in a shared babble, leading him over to the couch to show him the cartoon they had just been watching out of excitement.

and despite being exhausted, jungkook was utterly weak at the knees for his kids, and thus, followed along immediately.

you watched him, having moved to the kitchen where you got a clear view of them from your position near the doorway. his big body sunk into the couch whilst minjae shuffled closer, settling into his father’s side. the entire vision was enough to tug at your heart as you fought down your cuteness aggression - especially with the way he just looked too large for the area he was sat in, with all the cushions surrounding him, his two kids. he looked silly.

particularly with the way minji was now climbing all over him whilst explaining the plot with deadly seriousness.

“and then she lost her crown.” she informed him sadly.

“shit,” jungkook remarked with raised eyebrows. “that’s bad.”

“daddy!”

“sorry. shoot.”

you rolled your eyes as he looked up, meeting your gaze momentarily with a sheepish grin, before you looked away, settling over the stove once more.

it happened every time.

you’d spend all day mentally preparing yourself to be annoyed at him only for jungkook to walk in through the door and utterly transform. he became so soft, so gentle when it came to your pair and it was a constant reminder that the one good thing that came out of this situation was you had picked the perfect father.

he’d listen to them properly - never offering them a half assed version of himself, especially since you had both come from such broken homes. always listening properly, no distractions, despite the fact he would work gruelling shifts that had him using his body for hours on hours. even now, he’d always have his hand rubbing up and down minjae’s back as his sister yapped and yapped, knowing he was the quieter one of the two and therefore the shyer one.

your chest squeezed at the thought.

“you feedin’ me tonight, or what?”

you swore if you rolled your eyes any more that night, they’d pop out of your skull.

“you’re so romantic.”

“been thinking about your food all day.” he grunted, walking into the kitchen properly to allow the kids their time on the tv, and of course, his time to terrorise their mother.

“that’s because you eat like an animal.”

“worked twelve hours today.”

“who’s fault is that?”

he couldn’t help the smirk on his face. he loved you bratty. “yours. you’re milking me dry.”

you narrowed your eyes, stirring his food in the pot, though you’d never admit you cooked solely for him and his taste, despite it being more than clear. behind you, you could hear the soft sounds of the familiar cartoon playing mixed with the twins’ occasional giggle, though it wasn’t long until the heavy sound of jungkook’s footsteps became louder and louder, souring your mood.

of course. the man couldn’t survive without being near you when given the option.

“you’re extra bratty tonight.” he observed casually, leaning against one of the counters, though his voice was twinged in exhaustion.

“you’re projecting.” you hummed back.

“am not.

“are too.”

“you text me a thumbs up earlier.”

“and?”

jungkook scoffed before coming to the counter closest to you, leaning, despite your refusal to look at him.

“you know i hate that fucking shit.”

instead, you chose to feign ignorance, going so far as to prettily turn your back to him with a flick of your hair. you couldn’t help but wind him up, it was genuinely your favourite thing to do considering his reactions were always just so worth it. a man you knew could ruin you in seconds holding back because he knew he truly didn’t have access to you anymore, and until you gave him the green light needed, he was stuck in limbo.

lord knew whenever you gave him a faraway nod, he’d have you up on the counters and in between your thighs in seconds, always telling you it was the only way he felt satisfied anymore despite not being touched.

your hand reached upwards to grab a plate from the cabinet above your head. before you could even touch it, your feet on their tip toes, a large arm reached over your head instantly.

his chest brushed your back in the process in a way that felt accidental at first, but immediately, you found yourself pressed almost harshly into the stove, his front pushing your back against him cheekily.

fucking ridiculous.

jungkook grabbed the plate effortlessly, barely having to raise his hand whatsoever. instead of handing it to you immediately, he merely pressed against you further, your eyes widening just a fraction as you felt every inch of him behind you, warmth bleeding through the very thin material of your tiny pyjama top.

he was always so warm after work, it made your head spin.

“could’ve got it myself.” you murmured under your breath, cheeks hot.

“yeah?” he dipped his head down, lips grazing your ear. “looked like you were struggling.”

you hated how much you loved it - how big he was compared to you, how he towered over you. jungkook made you feel tiny in a way that genuinely fucked with your head, all broad muscle and rough hands, and sheer overwhelming man. even now, one of his thighs nudged between yours absentmindedly as he reached around you to place the plate down for you.

“you’re in my space.” you shifted, pretending like you weren’t enjoying it.

he could read you like an open book.

“your space?” he let out a small laugh.

you wanted to push him away, annoyed at his amusement at your words and even more annoyed at the way he so casually touched you, especially considering he knew what it did to you. it made you weak everywhere, to the point where you were utter putty in the palm of his hands and he relished in the feeling - the woman he obsessed over equally as ruined by something he did without thought.

you opened your mouth to speak only to feel his too large hand suddenly slide over to your stomach, digits digging into your skin before yanking you back into him. you were no longer pushed against the stove, now completely entirely into him, meaning you could feel every inch, including the harsh bulge that had begun to form just by speaking to you.

a squeak nearly left you before your eyes fell into slits, huffing as you smacked his hand meanly. fucking brute.

“jungkook!” you immediately snapped at him, but it did nothing to deter him as his fingers spread wide, practically covering every inch of the skin on your stomach all whilst he held you to him like he had every right.

“stop moving.” he muttered against your ear.

“ugh, you’re such a brute!”

“hard to do that when you’re walking around our house looking like this.”

your mouth fell open.

“our house?” you hissed, though he couldn’t help but realise the way your shoulders had dropped a little, almost at ease at his words despite your words. “i divorced you, this is my home.”

“stupid divorce.” he huffed a little under his breath, face dropping into your neck as he breathed in your scent. “worst fucking decision of my life.”

the words came out flat - immediate, as though they were plain fact. it constantly knocked you of breath whenever he talked like that, knowing that deep down you agreed too, that despite the problems between you, the divorce was also a big regret of your own. perhaps that was why neither of you acted like it had actually happened, simply playing house as though you were still together.

“you wear these shorts on purpose?”

you hummed at him then, looking over your shoulder at him just as he pulled away from your neck, your eyes connecting. “they’re just pyjamas.”

his hand, however, slid over to your hip with a grunt, squeezing.

“you’re killing me walking around like this.”

you rolled your eyes so hard, your head hurt. “just had a twelve hour shift and it’s my shorts that are killing you?”

“yeah,” jungkook replied instantly, with no hesitation whatsoever, eyeing you almost meanly. “you know what you’re doing. cut the innocent shit.”

you scoffed dramatically despite the heat travelling up and down your body. “you’re so embarrassing!”

“you’re a fucking minx.”

his teeth grazed the curve where your shoulder met your neck before he bit down, teeth sinking into your skin just enough to have you jolting. immediately, you smacked him on his arm with a hiss despite the utter mess between your legs, your brain growing hazier by the second.

“ow! you dog!”

“keep being mouthy,” he muttered against your skin, gently sucking on the area he bit, planting heavy kisses before dragging his lips to your ear once more. “watch what happens.”

the threat settled low in your stomach.

you could feel it everywhere, deep between your thighs and in the thump of your heart, all whilst your mind malfunctioned in real time. jungkook watched you slump against him, knowing how badly you were affected when he spoke like that. vulgar. nasty. all heavy hands and filthy promises he’d whisper into your skin like they belonged there. you couldn’t help how your body reacted to him, not when he was the only living thing that knew exactly which buttons to press to have you fall on your knees for him, to shut your pretty little mouth up with ease.

you twisted in his hold, finally managing to part from him just enough to actually turn in his hold, trying your best to glare at him despite the hazy look in your eye. he wanted to devour you, head dropping low to properly meet your gaze, feeling his breath against your lips.

“you’re disgusting.” you weakly rebutted at him.

“you like it.” his mouth curled.

he could take you now, right here, and he knew you’d let him - knew you’d open up your pretty little legs for him to give way for all of the things he had wanted. he also knew you weren’t ready for it, and despite the heavy tension between you and the thick want that clouded every conversation, he’d never push until you were the one that initiated.

that was the rules afterall.

you had told him as much, plainly. he could eat you out as much as he wanted, and lord knew he did with absolute glee, but no sex, no kisses. you simply used him to get off, grinding on his hardened cock through his work trousers late in the evening, his hand on your mouth to muffle the loud moans you couldn’t keep inside. he was a mere toy, happy to be at your disposal.

the smug bastard let out a low hum before finally releasing you, his fingers squeezing your stomach one last time to remind you of his hold on you, before grunting lightly, stepping back. you watched him, openly, one hand going down to adjust the growing bulge that had formed whilst he took a seat at the table, just like you had wanted him to at the beginning, still palming himself as he watched you as though it was perfectly normal.

you turned, plating his food despite your warm cheeks, all whilst your ex husband sat there, massaging his cock at the sight of your ass openly. you knew that to anyone else, the dynamic was batshit crazy, but to you? this was all you wanted, all you ever needed - a fucked up lover who managed to match you, none of that sappy shit. you wanted a man, and a man you had gotten indeed.

you turned, placing it in front of him, already turning to walk away before a large arm darted out, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you down onto his lap, against the very bulge that was growing and growing and growing. he knew how messed up you’d get just from grinding on him, and he had every intention of making you cum tonight, multiple times hopefully. the thought thrilled him.

“get off!”

his hand flattened against your back as your legs came up onto the side of him, your core nestled so perfectly against his clothed cock that it pulled a tiny gasp from your throat, a hitch of breath that had him openly bucking his hips into you so you could feel it more prominently. the man was obscene, genuinely obscene and the worst thing was that you were equally as sick, capitalising off of the interaction by grinding right back down on him, as though his food wasn’t there, as though he wasn’t exhausted from the day he’d just had.

“always fucking mouthing off.” he muttered darkly, lips now grazing your jaw in sweet kisses. “then look at you..” another grind, heavier now. enough to have you whimpering a little, the friction of his heavy duty trousers delicious against your barely there shorts. “get so sweet when i put you on my lap like you belong.”

at that, you shut your eyes, unable to rebut or saying more when you knew it was the truth.

no matter how mouthy you were, jungkook always put you in your place the same way each time. a roll of his hips, a thrust of his tongue - you were his girl through and through, no matter what you told him. it was his obligation, his duty, to satisfy you in the ways you’d let him and god did he exploit the fuck out of those decisions.

heat flooded your entire body, just as you spread your legs for him properly, straddling him the way he liked, your head on his shoulder, hands on his chest. you watched him eat, eyeing his adam’s apple half in hunger yourself, only for him. only ever him. he was filth personified, what with his obsessive and controlling tendencies but it was what made you want him so badly - even now, he found himself feeding you from his own plate despite being starved, always putting your comfort in front of his.

all whilst forcing your clothed cunt down on him harder.

you spent the next few minutes like that, in a state of bliss like you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes being mean to him for no apparently reason, but he loved it, holding you tight to him as he indulged in your needy tendencies. he didn’t care what you did, or how you chose to use him as long as it was him you selected.

you were his fucking girl, and he’d never let you forget it.

—

shopping had easily become one of your favourite hobbies after the divorce.

that wasn’t to say you didn’t indulge prior, but having jungkook’s debit cards in your pink chanel purse post divorce meant you could spend as frivolously as you wanted with full knowledge that he couldn’t complain or you’d revoke all access to yourself. it was pure evil coming from you, that much you could agree, but it wasn’t like you cared to be honest - he wanted to give you his money, who were you not to spend it at dior?

it was his fault, really, considering jungkook had managed to make the separation somehow more beneficial than the actual relationship.

his cards sat so pretty in your bag, begging, yearning to be used by you and you, of course, were never one to deny your soul of what was so easily accessible to you. how could you deny a gift when given with so much love, so freely as though it was what he had intended in the first place.

and so, you found yourself on your weekly shopping spree, humming under your breath. dressed in your cute little skirt, top accentuating your breasts in a way you know would have jungkook passing away if he saw you, all whilst your big heels clicked and clacked on the pavement; you indulged in the strip of shops that had become home to you.

fendi, gucci, louis, hermes, chanel, prada - you knew them all, and oh, how they knew you.

you had already spent an ungodly amount.

a new perfume just because the bottle was pretty, alongside some high end skincare you secretly knew was utter bullshit. two sets of expensive heels that accentuated the length of your legs so deliciously, you’d be a fool not to purchase them. countless dresses and cute little jumpers for your sweet babies too, things you knew that they would love and feel comfortable in all whilst sporting a hefty price tag.

the best thing about all of this? jungkook didn’t give a fuck.

if anything, you were the sure he had something clinically wrong with him considering the way he would ask you what you had purchased, notification after notification plaguing his phone and despite seeing the ridiculous price tags, it never deterred him from making sure he worked hard enough to accommodate you. ex wife or not, you were his to provide for - you just came with a specific price.

you knew he was genuinely crazy when you had bought a whole new wardrobe full of clothes after a horrible day, needing some retail therapy more than anything else, spending an ungodly amount only to see a single text from him in response.

“good girl.”

god, you had nearly moaned.

spending his money seemed to satisfy something deeply primitive in him. the bastard was everything you had ever wanted.

still, despite being an utter bitch to him any chance you got, even you recognised that there were rules and boundaries.

you knew that jungkook would let you buy whatever you wanted, to your hearts content no matter how stupid, but your heart still ached whenever he would come utterly exhausted after a particularly gruelling shift at the shop. being a business owner was one thing, having the largest mechanic shop was another - being the head mechanic, and actually getting your hands dirty each and every waking day from morning till night? that was a whole different ballpark, and you often found yourself returning things secretly, or putting things down whenever you’d get the familiar feeling of guilt.

unfortunately for you, said feeling was no where to be seen when all you could think about was how pretty the pink bag in front of you was.

it was ridiculous, completely and entirely - even you knew that.

the second you saw it, your hands darted out, fingers gently grazing the gold hardware, pink leather soft against your touch all whilst your heart began to beat in that all familiar way. you wanted it. needed it.

oh, how your chest fluttered at pretty things. you had always been this way, no matter the price tag, and jungkook had done nothing but absolutely untrue it throughout your relationship so really, you had no one else to blame but him.

and so you stood, bottom lip jutted out slightly as you tapped your manicured finger against your chin in thought, humming lightly before looking over to the sales assistant. even she knew this was out of your typical budget, which wasn’t to say you couldn’t afford it because with jungkook’s work ethic, you could do whatever you wanted. this was just a large amount, all at once, all on one thing.

with a little huff, you pulled out your phone.

god this was humiliating. never a day in your life had you asked jungkook for permission on anything, especially not when it came to your shopping purchases, but that horrible gnawing feeling all too similar to guilt was already finding home in your stomach. you were simply going to inform him because you were so nice.

you weren’t even sure why you were feeling this way when he had never even uttered the word no in your presence.

your eyes dragged to the price tag one last time before letting out another huff, finding his contact and pressing the ring button all whilst grumbling.

the phone rang.

once.

twice.

three times.

your mouth fell open. nothing.

you immediately called again, now suddenly feeling even more humiliated, and more annoyed with each passing ring. once the second call rang out too, your eye officially began twitching.

you were the love of his life, the mother of his children - the only person he could cum to the thought of and yet here was, not answering your calls? what, did he have a new girl? someone else to keep him company? was that it? spoiling another girl with his bank card so he could get hard?

the deluded thought had you almost shaking as you took your furious fingers over to your messages, texting out immediately.

‘hello?????’

silence.

‘i need you’

silence again - you were starting to feel seriously pissed off. who cared about a job this much?

‘answer your phone, dickhead’

your eye was fully twitching in annoyance at the consistent blue messaging bubbles in front of you, all decorated with a single word at the bottom. delivered.

then, because you knew nothing else other than being a natural nuisance to him, you began spamming.

‘jungkook’

‘jungkook’

‘jungkook’

‘jungkook’

still nothing. the audacity of it all.

you wanted to sit and deflate before the very bag of your dreams, heart half hurting over it not already being in a shopping bag with your name on it and other half straining at the thought of jungkook not providing the attention you so desperately needed from him to live. he always had his phone on him, you thought, mind going into a million different conclusions that each felt as warped as the next.

you couldn’t remember a single instance where he hadn’t answered you - meetings, working, mid shower, mid wank. no matter the inconvenience, he’d be quick to hear your voice even if it was so you could bitch at him because even you knew he was down bad when it came to you. the man could have been elbow deep in an engine and somehow still find a way to have the phone on speaker next to him.

you could physically feel yourself growing more and more irritated the more you demanded for his attention, all whilst each message sat unread, until you let out a small whine. you had never done this before - never begged for him to look at you, focus on you and now? you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a horrible twinge of anxiety in your stomach at the thought of you dropping in his priorities.

he was your jungkook, afterall.

in that hazy train of thought, you put your phone away, turning sharply on your heel and towards the door, making your way outside with your multiple bags on your arms. the shop was only a few streets away, and you were quick on your feet. you wouldn’t usually walk so much in these heels, but these were trying times and you didn’t have a moment to waste.

it wasn’t even about the bag anymore. it was the principle.

at least, that was what you kept telling yourself.

-

the horrible mixture of irritation, brattiness and insecurity swirled deep inside your chest as you practically marched over to the mechanics shop, your hair bouncing with each step all whilst your insane heels clicked loudly. your multiple shopping bags were beginning to hurt your arms, another thing you were sure to take out on jungkook despite the fact it was a self inflicted problem.

your shoes, ones you never really had a problem with, were beginning to dig into your feet and you were sure it was because you were already annoyed. they had long stopped looking cute and started feeling devilish, but unfortunately for you, your pride well outweighed the hassle of it all.

you marched right inside, only to be hit with the all too familiar smell of oil and metal. it lived permanently in the walls and into your ex husband’s clothing, and no matter how much you denied it, it felt like home - comforting beyond means, so much so that you found yourself craving to be wrapped in it whenever you would see him.

the large workshop was busy despite the afternoon dragging on with engines high in the air, toolboxes scattered on each section, concrete floors muddied and dirtied whilst you could hear someone on the far end of the room call out about a missing wrench. again, it felt like home.

a few heads lifted immediately upon your arrival, with all six raising as you stepped forward a little. the move instantly changed, as all of them greeted you warmly, some waving, sweet jin even going so far as to take the bags off of your arms and put them in jungkook’s office.

you knew them all personally, of course. you had been here for years, when your ex had first opened the shop, hiring all of them. you had brought lunches, been pregnant with your babies here, waddling around whilst they all debated baby names with you. a family dynamic that resulted in there being no sense of awkwardness whatsoever, despite the divorce.

your gaze swept around the garage, looking, searching, finally finding him.

your breath caught. annoyingly.

because, unfortunately for you, no matter how many years had passed between you, no matter how many arguments where you’d poke and prod, and certainly no matter how many times you pushed him to brink of genuine desperation; the sight of him was always enough to have butterflies erupt in your stomach as though it was the first time.

your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, lowered over an engine with a tool in hand, grease and something dark smeared on his hands all whilst his work t-shirt stretched around his torso unfairly. his biceps were bulging, your kryptonite, all whilst he seemed completely focused on what he was doing.

it wasn’t until he could hear everyone greeting you that had him looking to the side, where you stood, giving you full access to his face. the same dark substance was smeared slightly on his jaw, his dark hair pushed out of his face all whilst his tatted frame turned to fully face you.

if you thought you had been undone by a mere look at you, it was jungkook who felt his entire life stop.

you, his minx of a girl, dressed in a skirt too tiny for his liking with a cute matching top, one that pushed your breast up, giving him the perfect view despite the distance between you. the way your hair sat, your lips plump with lip gloss he longed to kiss off of you, and your high heels that still couldn’t match his height.

he was assessing you hungrily, a darkened look on his face as he admired you head to toe over and over, openly for everyone to see. he had no shame, he didn’t give a fuck when it came to you - you might have divorced him but you were every inch his wife and you knew it too.

you recognised that look, and with each heavy step towards you, it simply expanded to every one of his limbs. he was a man starved, hungry for one thing in his life and that was you. he still looked at you like it was the first time seeing you, even after all these years.

his jaw was harsh, tightened, as though your presence here had fucked him.

good, you thought bitterly, still annoyed. you wanted him to suffer.

he grabbed a rag on his way to you, cleaning his hands of clinging grease before shoving the cloth over his shoulder. once he was in front of you, you readied yourself, lips parting to no doubt spit some venom at him over your own insecurities but he offered no time. instead, jungkook grabbed you by your waist and pushed you firmly in the direction of his office, no words exchanged.

“jungkook!” you hissed, turning a little as your body was all but forced to walk in a direction, the click of your heels heavy on the dirty workfloor.

he didn’t respond, eyes meeting yours in heavy warning, a reminder that this was his workplace, where he was a working professional, where his rules reigned first and foremost. you hated how badly the thought swirled in your stomach, coaxing you out of your negative thoughts and straight back where you felt most at home.

once you were in his office, he turned to close the door. with a single flick of his finger, the lock turned, confining you into the space, all whilst you narrowed your eyes at him. with a small huff, you turned around, flicking your hair at him before walking over to his large seat behind his mahogany desk, sitting down on it as though it belonged to you.

it was laughable, really, how easily you managed to rile him up. just the sight of you, bare legs crossed and high heeled feet - he wanted to fucking ruin you just to remind you that you were all his.

“you should clean up.” you huffed once more, fingers pushing the stacks of contracts away from your space, annoyingly mixing up important papers.

he simply stood in front of the door, before walking over to the desk, resting on the corner of it, eyes meeting yours. he didn’t bother even looking at what you were doing, despite it no doubt causing him problems in the future - he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

“you walked here.”

it wasn’t a question. a loaded statement no doubt used to coax you into revealing your full emotions.

your eye twitched. “i have legs.”

“your heels are new.”

“and?”

his lips quirked up slightly. “they’re hurting your feet.”

“no they aren’t.” you snapped back, despite your toes hurting slightly.

his eyebrows lifted. you were such a liar, dressed in sin. he wanted to kiss you.

jungkook pushed off of the desk, walking past the pile of bags that jin had placed in the office for you no longer than a few minutes ago, his eyes still trained on you as he refused to look away. your own eyes faltered, dropping onto the bags momentarily as that familiar feeling of guilt wrapped around your stomach before it returned to his gaze, insecurity wrapped in anger only coming back harder.

he looked like he was approaching a skittish animal, as though he was trained to deal with you entirely. unfortunately for him, you had claws.

“don’t.” you hissed.

“don’t what?”

“do that.”

“do what?” he was fighting a dimpled grin.

you grit your teeth. you extended your hand, finger pointing at him harshly, accusatively, all whilst he walked over to you, until your digit was actually pressing into him. your nail dug into his stomach, not by your own doing, but his as he pushed his skin harsher against you, the sting a healthy reminder of how much he yearned for your touch.

“real scary, baby.”

you nearly shuddered, his voice heavy and loaded.

“i’m serious.”

“yeah, i know.”

you hated when his voice did that, low and certain all whilst his eyelids drooped just from looking at you. you retracted your finger, only for his own hand to dart out and grab a hold of your own until it was pressed against his stomach completely flat.

“you ignored me.” you murmured in annoyance, all whilst you let him manoeuvre you. “did i?”

“mhm.”

he nodded, half condescending and other half fucking enamoured by you. “and that’s why you’re here?”

“don’t act stupid.”

your hissing had his eyes narrowing.

“careful.”

the single word landed heavy, your mouth snapping shut. if anyone was to ask you your favourite quality about jungkook, it would always be the sheer dominance he radiated without even trying - all man, half assertion and other half brute, he plagued your every thought and yet it still never felt enough.

his grip on your hand harshened, as though he needed to feel you on him in a way that hurt, with fingers digging into his skin through his t-shirt. you gulped a little at the feel of his warmth.

“walked into my garage wearing this shit, your feet hurting, and you’re not gonna tell me what’s got you so bratty?” he muttered down at you, voice low.

your eyebrows pulled at his choice of words, peering down at your outfit. this was the exact clothing choice that had you guys arguing so often, what with your breasts accentuated and your ass barely hidden by the cute skirt - you couldn’t help the fact that you liked things on the shorter and tighter side, especially when they’d rile him up so bad.

“you ignored me.” you repeated, with a frown imbedded into your skin.

“never ignored you a day in my fucking life. what you talking about?” he scoffed a little down at you, all whilst your head had to tilt just to look at him from your seated position.

“called you twice, jungkook, and i text you.” it was your turn now to push your finger into him willingly. “you ignored me, so don’t pretend like you didn’t. i’m not an idiot.”

“i was under a car.”

“you always answer.” you rebutted.

his eyes narrowed. there really wasn’t any winning with you, he knew that better than most, but he also wasn’t an idiot. you wouldn’t have marched here for no reason, especially over a missed call or two whilst he was at work considering he never really had his phone on him. he had a receptionist out front, practically hired for the sole reason of being able to inform him whenever you needed him. you knew that, so why was this so upsetting to you now?

“don’t look at me like that.” you huffed.

neither of you mentioned the way his hand on top of yours began to caress your skin, intertwining your fingers as he continued to press further into himself.

“not looking at you like anything.”

“yeah you are, like i’m being stupid.”

he cursed under his breath as he took his other hand and rubbed it up and down his face, as though this was the cherry on top of a long and stressful day. you could feel your blood pressure rising in annoyance at the thought - he had no right to be annoyed with you, not when you were too busy being annoyed at him. how dare he?

“y/n.” he warned lightly. “this shit is pissing me off. you ignore me every chance you get, so why the fuck are you so upset?”

you felt your cheeks begin to heat, half in embarrassment and other in deeper annoyance at being called out. was it your fault that you rolled your eyes whenever he text you, too busy grumbling to actually respond? the nasty feeling in your stomach only grew as he watched you swallow harshly, too humiliated to tell him the real reason all whilst he refused to read between the lines until you actually said something.

the office felt too small, and for the first time during the entire interaction, jungkook swore he could read genuine discomfort on your face.

it was as though the conversation at hand was something you weren’t expecting, simply assuming this was another instance where he’d bow down and allow you to be bratty but, alas - he could see this time that this was different. you weren’t annoyed, you weren’t even upset; you looked hurt.

it was an emotion he couldn’t quite understand, knowing fully he had absolutely done nothing wrong, not having even seen his phone since lunch time. rationality mattered little between the both of you, especially whenever it concerned you, but this was strange even for you. your sudden silence, your lips pressing into each other as you looked away from him, eyes unsure, gaze confused - it had his stomach dropping.

the humiliation was heavy in your frame as you realised how stupid you were being. you had marched here in these heels, a pair that were currently ruining your feet as you spoke, wincing a little as you shifted your toes to make it more comfortable. twenty minutes of amping your own emotions up only to arrive and realise the disgusting, simple fact of jungkook had been divorced by you.

you. you alone.

you had made the decision.

you had chosen to kick him out, break up the marriage over petty arguments that were a norm if anything.

you had done that, with the full expectation of him still fulfilling his husbandly duties as though you had any right to him, any access.

that alone was a horrible pill to swallow.

unfortunately for you, if anyone knew you inside and out, it was the very man in front of you. he reached over to you, tilting your chin forwards, and then up, so that your unsure eyes met his, all whilst you maintained your bratty nature by keeping your mouth shut. he wanted nothing more than to ruin your lips for even starting with him today, with that sleek gloss covering each inch of surface.

you hated when he looked at you like this, as though he was able to dismantle the corners of your feigned disdain, softening them, eroding them until all that was left was you. only you.

before you could look away, you watched as your hunk of an ex husband, all muscle and all tattoos, dropped to his knees in front of you. his arms came around your waist, yanking you forward until either of your legs were around him, his hands heavy on your back. your skirt rode up naturally, allowing him to slot in against you, forcing you to maintain eye contact despite the intimate position.

you flailed for a moment, gasping, everything happening so suddenly but his grip on you was harsh, mean even.

“you thought i was with someone else?” he immediately challenged.

his eyes were narrowed, scowl evident on his lips as he looked at you harshly, as though the notion was enough to genuinely piss him off. despite his nature, he wasn’t one to ever get angry with you, usually directing his annoyance elsewhere but in moments like this, you exasperated him enough that he had no option but to tell you.

“jungkook-“

“missed two fucking calls,” he hissed at you, pulling you closer, harsher. “and you’re already mapping random shit in your head? you trying to piss me off on purpose?”

heat flooded your face in embarrassment, already feeling heat in your chest with the way he looked so annoyed. you hated how attractive he was.

“that’s not what i said.”

“yeah?” he scoffed at you openly, one hand moving to the side to grip your waist instead. “you walked over here in those heels over nothing?”

you hid the insecurity on your face underneath a layer of annoyance, bratty to the core even when you knew you weren’t in the right.

“what’s it to you? if you don’t want me visiting, i won’t come again.” you huffed, pressing him by his shoulders to push him back and away from you.

unfortunately for you, jungkook was made half from stone - unmovable, with biceps thicker than your head, chest and shoulders so broad that it often had your eyelashes fluttering up at him even when you didn’t realise.

“don’t try that shit with me, y/n. you’re in your own head about something that isn’t real, and you’re taking it out on me.”

his tone was laced with something that had your throat swallowing a lump, your eyes struggling to maintain eye contact due to the heavy, and intense heat in his gaze. he was openly pissed off, and you wished you weren’t battling so many emotions at the same time, instead wanting to capitalise on it.

instead of responding, you huffed a little, looking away despite it all. you lifted your chin slightly, ignoring your wandering fingers that were already tracing his tattoos out of habit, grumbling a little under your breath. you hated that he had managed to figure you out so easily, as though he knew the ridges of your brain far more than you yourself, able to peel apart each nasty thought that occupied your thought simply because he could.

you couldn’t let him win. you wouldn’t.

“maybe i wouldn’t think like this if you just answered your phone.” you huffed back at him, returning the eye contact once you had finally settled into your usual bratty self. “god forbid i assume my ex husband might actually move on one day. how am i supposed to know what you get up to all day here?”

you laughed once. sharp. mean. defensive.

“wouldn’t exactly be shocking, would it?” you hissed once more. “we’re divorced.”

for a moment, silence filled the room, all whilst jungkook remained awfully still in front of you.

a sick part of you felt rewarded in thinking you had managed to hit him right where it hurt, to act as a reminder that despite everything, you were the one in control, but that emotion completely slipped away once you watched him stand up.

he stood to his full height, causing you to tip your head back to maintain the eye contact from your sat position. instead of moving back, his hands dropped from your back and waist.

his left hand rose, fingers immediately darting until they reached your throat, wrapping firmly. enough to push your head towards his, and not enough to hurt, his darkened eyes showcasing the same scary, obsessive streak that had you moaning into your pillow every night.

you could feel dampness between your legs, your heartbeat quickening immediately at the showcase of such dominance above you, your eyelids growing almost hooded whilst he leaned down until your breaths were mingling.

“careful.” he reminded, for the second time that night, long fingers digging into either side of your neck.

you, who had never learnt a lesson for long enough to actually make a difference a day in your life, couldn’t help the look of utter petulance on your face.

“or what?” you spat at him.

within seconds, you were put in a state of vertigo as you were yanked up from your seat. before you could realise what was happening, jungkook had you in his lap, yanked forwards so that your ass was jutted out into the air. your skirt had been pushed up, leaving your tiny panties on show.

“j-jungkook!” you squeaked but he took no notice, your arms going up to wrap around his neck all whilst he planted his palm heavy against your now bare ass.

smack.

you squeaked louder.

he didn’t bother saying anything, soothing your ass cheek as though he hadn’t just smacked it. that was, until he repeated his action, the noise sounding off of the walls of the office.

smack.

over, and over, and over, and over.

he didn’t stop, repeating his action of soothing your ass only to slap it harder, all until you were a mewling mess, whimpering at him like a wounded puppy, his eyes harsher than you’d ever seen him. you felt sore, both of his hands now massaging you despite his growing annoyance.

the office was silent apart from the sound of your shaking breath, all whilst you clung to him, your eyes still matching his in a heavy, tension filled gaze that neither of you could look away from. he wanted to coo at you, wanted to hold you, kiss it better but fuck; he wouldn’t have you thinking like this ever again.

“the problem with you is you think a piece of paper changed shit between us.” he whispered down at you suddenly, voice meaner than you’d ever heard him. your eyelashes fluttered. “makes you think a judge signing off on some fucking divorce means you’re any less mine.”

“kook..” you whined quietly, causing him to massage deeper.

“that’s not how this works, baby. get that through your thick skull before i fuck it back into you, you understand me?” he warned, all whilst pushing his head against yours.

your noses touched, rubbing together almost romantically as he nuzzled against you, positioning you better on his lap despite the incessant sting on your ass. he slid your legs over his legs as he brought you closer and closer, his intensely large frame entirely engulfing you.

“we’re not together though..” you whispered at him, the horrible insecurity that remained deep in your bones, the same one you refused to ever show him, bleeding into your tone. “it’s only a matter of time before you meet someone new. even i know that.”

your admission was raw, honest - far more than you’d ever been in a very long time. he knew that, he could see it, especially with the way you felt utterly scared at even letting the words leave your mouth, nibbling on your lip immediately after as though you almost regretted being so truthful.

“what you want, y/n? want a ring? i’ll marry you today.” he scoffed down at you, as though your words were utter bullshit, anger still heavy in his veins. “you are my girl. you hear me? you. you’re mine, every bit of you, and i’m yours.”

you swallowed down the lump in your throat, as he began to kiss at your cheek, your nose and jaw, planting promises deep into your skin so that you’d absorb them as truth. he didn’t care that you guys weren’t together due to a technicality - you were his wife, entirely, fully. no one would ever be able to take that away from him.

the next few hours were spent in a way that felt like home.

he had first spent the first hour just holding you, watching you trace the tattoo peaking from his chest, the colours up and down his arm all whilst nuzzling deeper into him like you hadn’t been a bitch to him for no reason. his hands had roamed up and down you, cupping you warmly, touching you at times inappropriately just to have your usual brattiness shine through.

alas, work called, and so he placed you onto the couch in the office, murmuring something about ordering you food before kissing your head, turning to leave. the whine you let out was enough to have him curse under his breath, knowing he spoilt you far too often and that’s why you were doing what you were.

it wasn’t until you were dragging him back to you that he understood exactly what you wanted.

it had been two years since the divorce - no intimacy beside him going down on you here and there, but apart from that, it was all hidden kisses down your neck and gropes on your ass whenever he’d walk past.

that didn’t stop him from leaning down, one hand on the head of the sofa beside your head and pressing his lips to yours.

the breathy sound that escaped you from being kissed by him was truly enough to drive a man like jungkook wild, his lips moving, guiding, encouraging you to catch up with him. you did exactly that, hands yanking him further down until you could wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him as though this was the most natural thing you knew how to do.

he was your husband, after all.

parting from his lips, you both watched as a thin string of saliva separated you.

standing up tall had your eyes falling to the evident bulge in his utility trousers, your eyelashes fluttering up at him as you pretended to be indifferent to it. you hummed a little, raising your hand. “you can go now.”

the corner of his lip lifted.

such a fucking minx.

the rest of the day had him popping into the office, bringing you food, spending time with you whenever it was quiet. you gave him a haul at one point, showing him all the things you had bought with his hard earned money, even mentioning the bag you had eyed up earlier.

his response?

he had tilted his head in confusion, asking you why you didn’t buy it despite you telling him the price tag.

you had never been wetter.

by the time the garage was closing, he had you in the car, bags already put into the boot, whilst a heavy hand sat on your thigh, driving you home.

it felt like something had completely shifted between you now the unspoken had been spoken. it made you feel good, but you wanted more, craved it - you had spent so long pushing him away, even when you were married, that you had forgotten what it was like just to give into his affections. even slightly, it felt fulfilling in a way that left you hungry.

once your driveway came into view, you already knew he was gonna stay the night. it was common enough, usually forcing him to stay in the guest room like you wouldn’t be up all night wishing he would just come in already. alas, you had married, and divorced, a respectful man.

“kids coming back tomorrow morning?” he asked as he parked up, both of you walking to the door, all of the bags in his hand.

“afternoon.” you corrected over your shoulder, eyes meeting his. you watched as his eyes lifted from your ass in your tiny skirt, cheeks already slightly bruised and red from your earlier spankings, only for his gaze to lift back up to you.

he didn’t respond, simply following you in, locking the door behind him as you slipped off your heels.

“my feet hurt.” you huffed a little to yourself whilst flexing your toes a little.

he let out a slight laugh, placing your bags down on the kitchen table before grabbing you by the waist, lips attacking your neck almost immediately. your back hit his chest as he took a hold of your personal space, breathing in your floral scent now that you were all alone, with no one to interrupt.

no kids.

no garage.

nothing but the two of you and the dying tension between you.

“ugh!” you huffed, brattiness at an all time high, despite tilting your head so he could kiss you further. “you stink.”

“yeah?” he continued his kisses, fingers digging into your hips. “gonna join me in the shower?”

you rolled your eyes, just as he twirled you, towering over you so easily that you found yourself tilting your head just to be able to meet his gaze. his hardened jaw, the feel of his abs where your hands sat on his stomach - you hated him.

“you wish.” you retorted, just as his hands drifted down to your ass.

a large hand smoothed your ass, causing you to wince up at him a little, falling further into his chest causing him to laugh. you swatted his chest with a huff, hissing at him.

“meet me in there in two.” he whispered into your ear, squeezing once more before you huffed again, walking upstairs to your own room.

within the next five minutes, the water had been turned on, and jungkook had pulled his t-shirt off, grunting a little as he undressed in what he had always deemed to be a too small bathroom. it wasn’t until the door opened and he watched you walk in, just as the water had begun to spray down onto his chest, that he felt his stomach tighten.

he watched as you undressed, clothes pooling at your feet, your bra and panties dropping in seconds all whilst you joined him in the shower, almost paying him no mind as though he too wasn’t here. it wasn’t until you stepped back into him, letting the water hit your body instead of his that he properly yanked you back, bodies suddenly flushed against each other.

he tilted your head for the millionth time that day, lips grazing over your pulse, kissing as though he truly couldn’t get enough. he hummed against it, tongue tracing over it as his hands openly began running up and down you, clutching your breasts, your thighs, your stomach.

he loved when you acted like this. all snooty, as though he was beneath you despite your legs parting just as his hands drifted down. his, bratty girl. what a dream.

“missed this.” he whispered into your ear, just as you reached for the body wash.

“need to wash my body.” you huffed back, looking over your shoulder at him in that familiar bitchy way, only for him to lean downwards towards your face.

he grinned, twisting you properly in his arms so that you were actually facing him. the glare you gave him was enough to have his cock twitching against you, causing you to look down momentarily.

you could have sighed out of content, feeling it against you, so, so thick. so large, pressed against his stomach as he openly admired you, his own hands roaming over you as though he had every right.

the last time you had both hooked up was after you had signed the divorce papers. he had pounded you in the courthouse bathroom, with a hand over your mouth, and a hiss in your ear reminding you that no matter what, you still belonged to him, to which you had nodded, promising him. you were both so fucked for each other it was unreal.

queue two years later, you hadn’t actually seen his cock in so long despite having craved it for what felt like eons. despite what you felt, you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to cave in, yearning for something more than just sex and you couldn’t afford to get attached without it.

here you were, with that exact thing.

you were both so fucked in the head when it came to one another, with jungkook even going so far as to make a dildo for you that replicated his cock, just so you could pleasure yourself the exact way you wanted. it killed him inside to know you used it every night instead of using him, but with you in his arms right now, he hardly gave a fuck.

he watched as you lifted one of your hands, fingers brushing against the tip, all whilst your big eyes fluttered up at him in a sort of faux innocence. he cupped your hand, bringing it to his lips, before wrapping it around his cock properly.

you let out another sigh of content as you pumped him, up and down, all whilst water cascaded down onto both of your bodies. his head pressed against yours, lips brushing against one another so naturally it felt innate to the both of you.

his breath hitched just slightly as you used both hands, your heart fluttering at the feel of him so intimately against you.

“my pretty girl.” he pressed sweet pecks to your lips, whilst you tilted your head up at him, his hands openly massaging your ass again.

“so big.” you whispered back at him with a little sigh, thumb tracing over his slitted tip. “yeah? been stretching yourself out every night on your own?”

“trying to.” you mumbled back. his hand cupped yours, guiding you faster. “just too big sometimes to do it on my own.”

his eyes closed at your words, letting out a shaking breath, gripping you so much tighter before opening them up once more. he nudged his nose against yours, before pressing his lips harshly to yours.

your lips immediately moved in unison, bodies aligning as you both pumped his cock as though you couldn’t get enough of one another. tongues wrapped until they became one, your soft moans gliding through the falling water as jungkook pushed, and pushed and pushed until you were pressed against the wall.

by the time he was parting from your lips, you were a panting mess, your chest rising and falling. your hand dropped from his cock as he lifted you in his arms, your back pressed against the cool tile whilst he took your left breast in his mouth. sucking, biting, moaning - he was a mess against you, your hands pulling at his long strands that were growing damper by the second from the falling water.

the moan of his name on your tongue had him hissing, moving to your right breast. you had become a mural, a physical manifestation of his morbid love as he decorated you in purple bruises, your big eyes closing in sheer pleasure.

“don’t wanna wait anymore.” you whimpered at him, shaking your head as you began to pull his hair off of you.

he hissed a little from the shot of pain, not afraid to admit his cock twitched from the shock of it. at that, he gave your ass another smack, watching the way you squeaked before narrowing your eyes at him with a loud huff.

“need to stretch you out before i fuck you.” he grunted at you, both of your cheeks flushed from the steam of the shower.

“i don’t care. want it now.”

“stop being a fucking brat.” he hissed again, spanking you for the umpteenth time, your poor ass bruised.

you slid down from his arms, narrowing your eyes at him as you cheekily turned away. he stuck his tongue deep into his cheek as he watched you, soap suds washing down your body before you reached for a towel, sliding out before he could even stop you, only to watch you slip out of the bathroom immediately.

he wanted to curse. his cock had never been so hard in his life, and oh, the things he wanted to do to you - he felt like a born again virgin, having been celibate the second you had pushed him away after the courthouse fiasco. he matched your movements, washing his body before grabbing a towel, drying himself off and walking to your room.

the sight of you on the bed, sat, still in the towel, huffing a little as you checked your nails, pretending to be completely disinterested in him had his jaw ticking again. such a fucking brat.

you opened your mouth, no doubt to spew some utter bullshit to rile him up, but he didn’t give you a chance. within seconds, he had his hands on you, dropping you fully onto the bed, hovering over you, both towels on the ground almost immediately.

the sight of him on top of you, inbetween your legs had you rendered speechless for the first time in eons, a shaking gasp leaving you. it was the feel of his cock running up and down your already weeping pussy that had you actually letting out loud whimpers and whines, rotating your hips in hopes you could finally get what you wanted.

“spoilt rotten. that’s your fucking problem.” he hissed at you, grabbing your face with one of his hands, forcing you to look at him. “always get what you want.”

“because you always wanna give it to me.” you whimpered back at him, grabbing onto his shoulders before raising your legs higher, begging for more.

he hated how true your statement was.

before you could think, jungkook lined himself and began to push inside, all whilst watching your eyes widen only for them to shut tightly.

euphoric. that was the only, single emotion he could describe the feeling of his cock being hugged by your velvet walls after so long, your pussy clinging to him almost as desperately as he pushed and pushed until he was entirely inside of you. you couldn’t breathe, not when you swore you could feel him inside your stomach, your fingers digging so deeply into his shoulders you swore you’d scar him.

even when you masturbated on your own with the dildo, you struggled to take him fully, but having him all but bullying his cock inside of you, making sure you took it all? nothing had never felt better, with his sheer size stretching a home deep inside of you, one that you had missed more than anything else.

“jungkook.” you mewled out, lip already about to quiver.

god.

he had dreamt of this exact situation.

you, underneath him, chest rising and falling whilst your tits were decorated in bruises, symbols of his devotion to you. his cock, thick and heavy, deep inside of you as he watched you quiver trying to accommodate for him despite knowing it was all too much. god, he had dreamt indeed and yet it paled in comparison to what he was seeing.

two years.

two years of being denied this, and here he was, finally claiming his girl once more.

instead of letting you adjust, jungkook grabbed the bottoms of your thighs, lifting them slightly before beginning to thrust.

had you been a normal girl, he would have been gentler, kinder, maybe even sweeter but he knew you better than anyone else. you were a slut for him, through and through - couldn’t cum unless he was mean to your pussy.

and so, he did what any good ex husband would do.

he pounded.

your moans turned into loud whines of pleasure, back arching as jungkook set out a pace that you certainly couldn’t keep up with, scratching over his shoulders and biceps almost desperately. the chant of his name echoed around the room, only adding to his pace, his head pressing against yours.

“look at you.” he grunted loudly, hips slapping against hips, skin smacking against skin. “needed this so bad, didn’t you?”

“so bad.” you whined, with a shaking nod.

“that’s my girl.” he kissed your nose almost romantically, only making you whimper as he pushed your thighs against your chest, before pressing down on you.

the new position had your back curling upwards as you somehow managed to feel him so much deeper, your hands now shaking in the confinements of his hair. you couldn’t stop thrashing, as though all of the begging to get him to fuck you without actually prepping you were all stupid ramblings now that you couldn’t take it.

he loved the sight. there was nothing jungkook loved more than watching you grow more cockdrunk by the minute, what with the way your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, drool beginning to drip by the corner of your mouth.

he had never been more in love with you.

he pounded you over and over, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were an overwhelmed mess, sobbing in his arms whilst trying to shut your legs around him, the overstimulation only gripping you by the throat meanly. by your fourth orgasm, you were babbling utter nonsense, a mixture of tears, mascara and drool all over you.

he had tapped your jaw with his hand, only for you to open up, watching him spit in your mouth. you clenched around him hard just as you swallowed, the sight something he knew he’d replay for time to come over and over over.

“so fucking tight.” he hissed down at you.

your positions had changed, with the both of you on your sides as he thrusted into you, his lips attacking the side of your face and shoulder all whilst you clung to the pillow in front of you, poor pussy leaking on either side of him. you were being ruined in real time.

“gonna get you nice and round baby. you’d like that, hm? like it when kookie fucks his cum into you?” he cooed down at you, condescending enough to have your brain begging for mercy. all you could muster was a loud moan, back arching into him at the promise of another baby. “please. want it so bad.”

“yeah?” he hissed, thrusts only getting meaner. “fuck…gotta put a ring on your finger first.”

at that, your legs began to shake.

“gonna take you out tomorrow morning. gonna cum nice and deep inside of you, and take you ring shopping so you can get what you want, hm?” he hissed down at you through his heavy breaths. “gonna be a good girl for me?”

“mhm..i’ll be so good, k-kookie. promise.” you whimpered.

jungkook gave you a hard thrust. he knew it was a lie.

“should’ve never let you go, baby. been missing my girl so much. should’ve kept you nice and full like you deserve.” he bit down on your shoulder. “but jungkook’s gonna fix it. just need you to cum for me, sweetheart.“

it was like he had control over your mind and body. your orgasm erupted through your body, clamping harshly onto his cock, causing him to choke as his thrusts faltered, already on the edge. waves of excruciating pleasure ran through you, grabbing you at every angle all whilst you coaxed him into his own orgasm, his loud grunts echoing off of the walls.

you could feel his hot cum reach all the way into your womb - a promise of what was to come, an assurance for the future. the thought of having more of his children only stretched out your orgasm as you cried out his name, his large fingers harsh on your clit to really force you over the edge.

by the time you were both settling down, you were a shaking mess.

cum plugged inside of you as he refused to pull out just yet, your bodies both sweating, hair a mess, makeup utterly ruined. jungkook had never seen you look so pretty, wanting nothing more than to propose to you right then and there, but even he knew you deserved far better than that.

it was when only ten minutes later, he turned you fully after pulling out, did he plant soft kisses to your face, all whilst fingering his cum back inside of you. you cried in oversensitivity, only causing him to coo at you, whispering sweet nothings about how good you had taken him, about how he needed the cum to stick to get you round and pregnant.

you could feel your eyes drooping as he took care of you, manoeuvring your body until it was utterly engulfed by his, your body sore and mind free.

for the first time in two years, you felt like you were home.

—

true to his promise, you were both out of the house by the early morning.

also true to his word, you were currently stuffed with cum, littered in an array of hickeys both from the previous evening and that morning, causing you to choose an uncharacteristically modest outfit for the day. you had hissed at him all the way to the shop, huffing at having to hide your body in full length clothing only for him to smirk quietly to himself.

he couldn’t get enough of you.

still bitching, still whining - he had stopped pretending like he didn’t like it, especially when you could see right through him. he was yours, yes, but oh how you were his. he had woken you up to his mouth on your clit, coaxing you to a sweet orgasm before fucking you with the promises of a life even grander than the one you were currently living. that alone had gotten three orgasms out of you.

now, you were in the ring shop, frowning, flicking your hair and rolling your eyes at him with every ring you were shown, rudely grumbling over how it just wasn’t the one.

the one you had on was beautiful, which only irritated you more.

you made the effort of moving your hand in three separate angles, turning it to the light, turning your wrist away. the diamond caught every flicker, as it shon and sang to you, all whilst you pursed your lips.

“i don’t like it.”

the jeweller openly frowned at you.

this had been the tenth ring he had shown you, and none of them made you happy. none were the ring you had envisioned, wanting something different and yet something classic, the oxymoron killing you from the inside out.

whilst the man behind the counter was quite startled by your behaviour, jungkook was certainly not.

he stood beside you, t shirt stretched over his figure deliciously, arm heavy around your waist as he maintained you flushed against his figure no matter how bitchy you were being with him. it only had him tightening his fingers on you.

you continued your comments to the jeweller as he showed you more and more rings, before he sensed the growing tension, leaving you both be for a moment. once you were alone on the shop floor, jungkook nudged you a little so you’d look up at him.

“enough.”

the word was quiet. commanding. enough to have your pussy clenching despite how sore you already were, not that it was enough to stop you wanting him in every single way. unfortunately, despite your lapse in demeanour the night before, you weren’t willing to let it show easily again.

you huffed. “none of these are right.”

“you’re being nitpicky on purpose.”

“maybe i just have standards.” you rolled your eyes at him, making a show of crossing your arms across your chest.

it was his turn to make his eyes narrow down at you meanly.

“you done?” he asked, with a small hiss. “your ass not sore enough, y/n?”

you grit your teeth as you willed yourself to be quiet, wanting nothing more than to rebut at him but even you knew jeon jungkook was certainly not above spanking you in a jewellery shop, especially if it meant you’d actually shut up. so, instead, you found yourself huffing a little at him again, picking at your manicure.

“just don’t wanna pick the wrong one.” you admitted in a much smaller voice, refusing to meet his eyes as you ruined your french tips, frown heavy on your face.

the admission was quiet, barely above a mumble but it hit jungkook right in his chest, knowing that despite the rushed nature of everything, this symbolised something so much bigger. starting again when the first time around had been a rush in itself was scary, especially when the stakes were so much higher this time. sure, you had been divorced once and you were marrying him again but you knew this meant you guys would actually have to work through your annoyances with one another.

the thought honestly scared you.

his devotion, his obsession, his incessant need to have you in his arms whether you liked him or not was reciprocated heavily by yourself, only masked with an air of indifference.

“baby.”

he pulled you out of your thoughts, making you look up through your lashes.

“buy as many as you fucking want. you want seven, huh? all days of the week?” he narrowed his eyes down at you. “there isn’t a wrong one, so get that out of your head.”

for the first time in that interaction, you properly turned into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with a soft sigh of content at his words. good answer, you thought, as you nuzzled into his neck, all whilst he pushed you against the jewellery counter.

by the time the owner had come back, you had finally made your selection, feeling almost shy as you watched jungkook pay for it. sure, you spent his money without thinking, but you were quickly realising how much better it felt with him beside you actually taking charge of the transaction part. the thought began to fester all over you as he signed the receipt, turning to walk you out as the jeweller began sizing the rings immediately.

unfortunately for him, you pressed your lips to his cheek in the sweetest action you could muster. judging from the flip in your eyes, the way affection swirled in them, he knew you wanted something.

“what?” he grunted.

“so..remember that bag?”

—

my babies!! i’m back!!

my first fic / one shot since the mature label got slapped on my page which means half of my followers won’t see this but i’m keeping optimistic!!

as usual, let me know your thoughts, i loveeeee reading your guys’ comments and asks so feel free to keep me in the loop with what you’re thinking

if you wanna support a bad b pay her london rent, my kofi is here <3

love u so bad ❤️

[justarkive]

Chemtrails Over The Country Club | JJK

MASTERLIST

• genre : summer romance, coming of age, slowburn, first love, emotional smut, angst, slice of life, opposites attract

• summary: when a big city boy gets shipped off to a sleepy southern town for the summer, the last thing he expects is to fall for the local volunteer with lip balm kisses and a bratty streak. between brushing ponies, creek swims, barn gossip, and one creaky old futon… feelings get real. fast…

• taglist : check pinned tba !

aim for schedule is chap every 4 days !

• main masterlist <

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

CHAPTER 1 : Snowball

CHAPTER 2 : Giddy Up!

CHAPTER 3 : The Creek

CHAPTER 4: Farm (fuck) buddies?

asks + questions:

how old is mc + jungkook ?

is reader a virgin?

[ggukiebar]

sacred desire | j.jk

pairing: priest jungkook x sinful reader

word count: 20.6k

genre: smut

summary: desperate to see if a man devoted to god will unravel, you test his faith with your sweet, deceptive innocence—seducing fr. jeon until his devotion no longer belongs to god…but to you.

warnings: priest jungkook x sinful reader, explicit sexual content, forbidden relationship, candle wax play, rosary choking, edging, clit rubbing, filthy sexual desires, spitting, degradation, mock sympathy, pussy eating, condescending dirty talk, blow job, cum eating, usage of whore & slut, praising, cum eating, m. masturbation, manipulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Temptation, they said, was the devil's favorite weapon…subtle, patient, and often disguised as something beautiful.

Your beauty was the kind that invited sin. Like a priceless painting in a museum, admired by many but forbidden to touch, existing only to test the restraint of those who stood before it.

Yet despite the effect you seemed to have on everyone else, Fr. Jeon remained frustratingly untouched by it all. Men had always looked twice, their attention lingering long enough to make their interest known. But his eyes never lingered on you. They would meet yours for a fleeting moment before moving on, calm and unwavering, carrying the same gentle warmth they offered every soul that walked through the church doors.

Pathetic.

Wearing a long white virginal skirt, a matching conservative blouse, and your hair falling neatly down your waist, you grabbed your purse before heading downstairs to meet Sana.

“Glad you finally wore something decent,” Sana commented with a sheepish smile when she saw you stepping out of your house.

You pouted, looking down at the modest skirt fluttering around your ankles. “My cute dresses are decent too, you know.”

You weren’t a very religious person, but when your friend Sana told you she wanted to join the church choir, you were more than happy to come with her. 

Between the two of you, she was the religious one—always carrying a small pocket bible in her purse, always reminding you to watch your words and actions because God was watching.

A lot of your friends were confused about how the two of you became so close. You were playful, rebellious, and bratty—more of a bad influence beside someone so polite and devout. But despite your mischievous nature, you were very sweet, friendly and charming. At university, you were one of the popular students, with plenty of friends and a reputation as a social butterfly.

When you first met Sana, you hadn’t expected the two of you to get along. She was a new student, still adjusting to the unfamiliar environment and trying to find her place among the other students. Being the friendly social butterfly that you were, you became the first person to approach her.

Your personalities couldn’t have been more different. Sana was calm, reserved, and quiet, while you were bold, bright, and loud. 

Despite being complete opposites, the two of you grew unexpectedly close. You liked Sana because she was a breath of fresh air. Her calmness grounded the chaos within you, while your playfulness brought balance and excitement to her peaceful life.

Ever since you became best friends, you often accompanied her to church. Although you looked somewhat out of place trailing behind her while she helped with various church duties, volunteer work, and parish activities...you still enjoyed spending time with her.

You liked how she always listened to your rants and endless rambles. Following her around while she busied herself carrying boxes and helping wherever she could, your kitten heels clicked softly against the church’s marbled floors, and the longest dress you could find in your closet swayed gently with every step. As unusual as it felt to be dressed so modestly, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed these moments with Sana.

Your usual style of dressing didn’t exactly align with the church’s dress code… you had to trade your short skirts, midriff-baring tops, tight dresses, and cute spaghetti-strap tops for something more... demure.

At first, you tried to argue against it, but Sana quickly reminded you that those clothes weren’t appropriate for church. And of course, you had no choice but to listen unless you wanted another lecture about being a poor instrument of the Lord.

“Since when did you become a singer?” you teased as the two of you entered the church alongside a few parishioners and choir members.

Sana was dressed similarly to you, wearing a long skirt paired with a flowy long-sleeved blouse. In her right hand, she carried a small booklet filled with choir songs.

She pouted. “I can sing a bit, you know.” she opened the booklet and flipped through its pages. “As long as I’m serving the Lord, then no voice shall sound bad.”

You chuckled, already accustomed to her holy little remarks.

“If you say so,” you sang back playfully, following her up to the choir loft. You offered a polite smile to the other choir members, who were already busy practicing.

Since you weren’t actually there to join the choir, you let Sana focus on rehearsal while you wandered around the church on your own. Normally, you would have spent the entire time chatting her ear off, rambling about anything and everything, but today you let her concentrate.

A few parishioners were arranging fresh flowers around the framed images of saints, while others carefully dusted and polished the statues lining the church walls. The distant voices of the choir drifted through the air, blending with the soft murmur of prayers and quiet conversations, creating a peaceful atmosphere that settled gently around you.

When Sana first invited you to come with her to church, you had agreed out of nothing more than curiosity. You traded your usual weekend night outs for sunday mass, wanting to see the world through her eyes and understand why this place, with its quiet prayers and solemn rituals, meant so much to her.

The church offered a kind of quiet that rarely existed in your everyday life. Away from crowded parties, endless conversations, and the glittering chaos of your social circle, there was something unexpectedly comforting about this place. It gave you a chance to slow down, to breathe, and to simply exist without needing to be the loudest person in the room.

“Good morning, Fr. Jeon.” a few choir members and parishioners greeted.

You turned around absentmindedly, your head tilting curiously when you saw a priest entering through one of the church's side doors. Dressed in a long black cassock, he offered everyone a warm smile and a slight bow as he stepped inside.

A new priest?

“Are you here for the charity blessing, Fr. Jeon?” someone asked.

The woman approached him and received a gentle pat on the head in return.

He smiled. “Yes, I stopped by to gather a few materials for the blessing.”

Your head tilted slightly as you watched him, finding yourself taking an unconscious step forward.

A handsome fucking priest.

For the past few months that you'd been spending time at the church with Sana, this was the first time you'd seen him, and unfortunately for your soul, he was ridiculously attractive. 

You found yourself shamelessly staring, almost in awe as he greeted everyone with effortless kindness. 

He bowed politely, acknowledged each person with a warm smile, and listened attentively whenever someone spoke to him. It should've been a crime for a priest to be that good-looking. 

Sinful.

The long black cassock he wore looked attractively sinful wrapped around someone so impossibly holy, the stark contrast only making him harder to ignore. His sharp jawline became more pronounced whenever he turned to greet someone with a kind smile, and a pair of thin-framed glasses rested neatly on his nose, lending him an air of quiet intelligence that did absolutely nothing to help your situation. His eyes were dark and warm behind the lenses, attentive whenever he listened to someone speak, and his jet-black hair was styled neatly, though a few stubborn strands had fallen across his forehead. 

Everything about him looked composed, dignified, and entirely inappropriate for the thoughts currently running through your head.

You almost let out a dramatic gasp when Fr. Jeon finally waved his goodbye and turned to leave. A curse nearly slipped from your lips as you watched him make his way toward the church doors. 

Everyone else had managed to greet him and earn one of his warm smiles, some even receiving a fond pat on the head. Meanwhile, you had spent the entire time standing near the altar, staring at him like an absolute creep, too mesmerized by his existence.

Internally rolling your eyes at yourself and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, you watched him disappear through the church doors. And then, because apparently your dignity had already left the building before he did, you immediately made your way back to Sana, who was still busy practicing her choir lines.

“So...” you began, trailing behind Sana as she walked around with her booklet, quietly memorizing her choir pieces.

“Is Fr. Jeon a real priest?”

Sana lowered the booklet and stared at you, her brows knitting together as she caught the suspicious wiggle of your eyebrows.

“Huh?”

“I mean...” you hesitated. “Is he a real priest or, like… an intern priest?”

The moment the words left your mouth, you realized how stupid they sounded. 

Was there even such a thing as a priest internship?

Sana blinked. Then she burst out laughing. “He's a real priest, Y/N. What do you mean, intern priest?”

Your cheeks immediately warmed. You looked away while she continued laughing, lifting the booklet back up as you followed after her.

You pouted. “Well... he looks young.” And hot. “And I've never seen him before. Every time I've attended mass with you, he wasn't the presider.”

You tried to think back to the past few months but came up empty. No handsome priests. Because if there had been one, you definitely would've remembered.

In fact, you were pretty sure you would've started sitting in the front row.

“Yeah, because he only got appointed recently,” Sana answered, her attention back on the booklet. “A few months ago, I think.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, almost groaning when you haven’t met him before he got appointed. 

What the fuck, Y/N. Are you seriously eyeing a priest?

Absolutely not. That was...unholy!

For the following weeks, you found yourself clinging to Sana more than usual.

At first, you convinced yourself it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Going to church with her wasn't exactly new. 

You just weren't nearly as consistent as she was.

There were plenty of sundays you skipped altogether, choosing late nights with your friends over early mornings in church. Besides, you figured there would always be another mass to attend, while convincing Sana to show up at one of your parties was practically impossible.

That was why you never attended as regularly as she did.

Lately, however, the situation seemed to have reversed. Now, you were the one volunteering to come.

Party invitations sat unanswered in your messages. Night outs were declined without hesitation. Instead, you found yourself asking Sana about choir practice, church activities, and whether she planned on volunteering for any upcoming events.

It was becoming a little concerning.

Wearing one of your now-usual long skirts and a modest blouse approved by church standards, you applied an extra layer of lip gloss in front of your mirror. Excitement bubbled inside you as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week—a charity event was coming up, and the church needed volunteers to help organize donations.

There had been plenty of charity events before, many of which you had skipped. Sana would usually spend the entire day helping sort donations and assisting the parishioners, leaving little time for the two of you to actually spend together. As much as you enjoyed tagging along with her, wandering around the church by yourself for hours wasn't exactly appealing.

This time, however, you were genuinely excited to come.

It wasn't as though you couldn't visit the church on your own. Nobody would stop you if you decided to drop by one afternoon.

The problem was that it would be… strange.

Ever since you started coming to church, it had always been because of Sana. Everyone knew you as her friend, not as someone particularly devoted to the church.

If you suddenly started showing up by yourself every weekend, people would notice. You weren't exactly known for your devotion. 

Especially when the answer involved a certain priest.

It was already strange enough that you were beginning to resemble a devoted Christian.

False piety.

When you arrived at the church, your heartbeat picked up immediately. Volunteers moved in and out of the building carrying boxes and supplies, conversations blending into a lively hum that filled the grounds.

“You can help with the boxes, Y/N. I'll just talk to the choir members,” Sana said with a smile.

You nodded a little too eagerly, grateful she didn’t question your sudden burst of interest in coming with her to church. It helped that you had accompanied her before—enough for it to not feel completely out of the blue.

“Okay! I'll help with the boxes!” you smiled brightly.

The moment Sana wandered off to join the other choir members, you immediately began looking around for ways to help.

“Let me carry those,” you offered with a bright smile, reaching for a volunteer struggling with a stack of old toy boxes meant for donation.

The woman thanked you and asked if you could bring them outside, where a small truck was parked to collect everything.

You happily agreed.

“I hope he comes today,” you muttered under your breath as you carried the boxes toward the truck, your eyes drifting toward the church entrance every few seconds.

According to Sana, Fr. Jeon frequently stopped by to check on donation drives, visit the parish office, or help coordinate volunteer work.

You had already carried nine boxes, then… ten. With every trip back and forth, you found yourself slowly losing hope that Fr. Jeon would show up at all. You were starting to regret wearing your cutest pink skirt today, and the growing disappointment was beginning to settle in alongside your irritation.

Just as you were about to accept that all your effort had been wasted, Fr. Jeon finally appeared, walking into the church hall.

Your eyes widened.

“Fuck—” you immediately winced, biting your lip the moment the word escaped. Mentally apologizing for cursing inside the church.

With a fresh box of donations balanced in your arms, you hurried toward the entrance, trying your best to look useful, helpful and responsible. Like the kind of person who volunteered here regularly and wasn't secretly waiting for your handsome priest to show up.

Your heart hammered against your ribs when he finally glanced in your direction.

“Good day,” he greeted with a smile and a polite nod, raising his right hand to gently pat your head.

Your cheeks immediately flushed, almost dropping the boxes when he touched you.

He patted my head!

Today, he was dressed in a fitted black long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into black slacks, a simple brown cross necklace resting against his chest. His jet-black hair was styled neatly away from his face, exposing a heart-shaped forehead that made him look unfairly handsome. He wore his usual pair of glasses, the thin frames resting on the bridge of his nose and softening the sharpness of his features. Behind the lenses, his round eyes looked steady and attentive, always observant, as if he noticed everything without ever needing to say so. 

Goodness gracious.

Your gaze drifted lower, almost shamelessly staring…only to pause on his right hand.

You frowned slightly, you wanted to take a longer look, but his sleeves hid the rest of his arms from view, making it impossible to tell how far they extended.

Was that a tattoo?

For some reason, that discovery stunned you more than it should have. Priests and tattoos weren't exactly a combination you'd ever imagined together.

You were so distracted staring at his hand that you didn't realize he had already walked past you and moved on to greet the other volunteers.

You didn't even greet him back! Oh God.

Panic immediately settled in your chest. Adjusting your grip on the donation box, you hurried after him, determined to salvage the interaction somehow. You just needed a reason to talk to him. 

A simple religious question, maybe?

Unfortunately, your brain had chosen this exact moment to stop working.

You couldn't exactly walk up to him and ask if priests were allowed to have tattoos. Nor could you suddenly start quoting bible verses when the majority of your religious knowledge came from Sana lecturing you every other week.

You wanted to sound natural and virginal.

The problem was that you had absolutely no idea how to start a holy conversation without sounding fake about it, like you were trying too hard to be someone you weren’t.

When you saw him entering the church office, you frowned and stomped your foot against the floor in irritation.

Pity.

You were a bit disappointed when his gaze didn’t even linger on you. You were used to boys in college always noticing you…showing their interest, getting swayed by your pretty face and charming personality. But here, inside the church, you were nothing more than another kind volunteer in his eyes—someone he greeted with the same calm respect he gave everyone else.

Importunate.

At this point, it had become a routine. You would come to church with Sana after school, grateful she had joined the choir because it gave you an excuse to be there almost every day instead of only on weekends.

While she attended rehearsals, you spent your afternoons helping with volunteer work and assisting the parishioners...all while discreetly searching the church grounds for your future boyfriend.

You even started dressing for it—slipping into the most “virginal” outfits your closet could offer in hopes of blending in. Long skirts, conservative blouses, dresses that covered everything they possibly could. It was almost laughable how much effort you put into looking like the perfect church girl, when a few months ago you would’ve rather died than be seen in half of these outfits.

The worst part was that it wasn't even guaranteed to work.

There were days when your timing simply didn't align. You would arrive at the church only to hear that Fr. Jeon had already stopped by earlier, or spend the afternoon helping around the parish before finding out he had come and gone while you were busy elsewhere. Sometimes you would leave just before he arrived, missing him by mere minutes.

You would come home without seeing even a glimpse of him, staring at your ceiling later that night and wondering why you felt so deflated over someone you barely knew. 

Then there were the good days—when your schedules happened to align and you finally saw him. Your eyes would immediately light up the moment you spotted him across the church grounds, your smile growing brighter despite your attempts to act normal, your cheeks burning whenever he greeted you with that gentle smile and absentminded pat on the head.

Transgression.

At first, seeing him had been enough. Now, however, you found yourself expecting more. Not much...just a conversation that lasted longer than a few seconds. Something beyond charity drives, donation boxes, retreats, and volunteer work.

But Fr. Jeon was frustratingly...polite.

He greeted everyone with the same kindness, smiled at everyone with the same warmth, and spoke to everyone with the same respectful attentiveness. Whenever you managed to stand near him long enough for a conversation, he would ask about the charity, the donations, the volunteers, or whatever church event happened to be coming up next. 

The discussion always remained firmly within the boundaries of church matters, and before you knew it, he would excuse himself to continue helping elsewhere.

You couldn't even ask him anything personal. Every question that came to mind sounded ridiculous the moment you imagined saying it out loud. Are those tattoos real? How old are you? Why are you so handsome for a priest? 

None of them exactly sounded appropriate for church conversation.

So you remained stuck in this strange little cycle of yours, coming to church almost everyday with hopes far bigger than the interactions you actually received. And despite how ridiculous it felt, despite how much you scolded yourself for it, the highlight of your day was still that brief smile and the weight of his hand resting atop your head for a few seconds.

Shameful.

A shame that you had never actually talked to him. 

Not beyond a few good afternoons exchanged in passing and the occasional greeting whenever your paths crossed around the church. 

You didn't want to be too bold, afraid that he would notice your embarrassingly obvious attempts to get his attention. As someone who wasn't particularly religious, you found yourself in an absurd predicament. 

Should you start reading the bible? Memorize a few scriptures? Learn enough about church teachings to hold an intelligent conversation with him? 

The fact that you were even considering studying scripture just to impress a priest made you question every life decision that had led you to this point.

You wanted his eyes to linger on you. Wanted him to look at you a little longer than everyone else. Wanted to feel special in some way. But every time your gaze met his, he would simply smile and move on, his attention never staying in one place for too long. 

Sometimes you wondered if the only thing capable of holding his complete devotion was God himself.

Which was unfortunate for you. Because you were used to being noticed.

You were pretty, and you knew it. Attention had always come easily to you, yet the one man whose attention you wanted most remained completely out of reach.

A man who was distant, unattainable, and forbidden in every possible sense of the word.

Standing in front of your mirror that afternoon, you smoothed down your floral dress and examined your reflection one last time. The modest dress fell neatly against your figure, paired with white kitten heels that made you look far more innocent than you actually were. You dabbed a little extra blush onto your cheeks before adding a touch more glitter to your eyelids, your excitement growing as you remembered what Sana had told you earlier that week.

Fr. Jeon would be presiding over today's mass.

It would be the first mass of his that you would be attending, and as you stared at yourself in the mirror, unable to stop smiling, you realized your excitement felt dangerously close to the kind of anticipation one would have before a date.

Sana had noticed that you were coming with her far more often nowadays, but being as naive and obedient as she was, she only took it as a good sign. In her eyes, your heart was simply getting closer to God, closer to faith, closer to something pure and meaningful.

Closer to Fr. Jeon, rather.

“You look excited,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling when you mentioned wanting to sit in the front row. The thought only made her happier, convinced that your devotion was finally deepening in the way she had always hoped for you.

Oh, you were devoted. 

“Excited for the Mass, you know,” you replied with a small giggle, clasping your hands together as if to sell the image. “Wonder what bible chapter will be discussed today.”

Of course you were gonna listen, be a good little church girl and have your eyes and attention to him.

Your eyes were practically shining when you stepped into the church, making a beeline for the front row without hesitation. You sat down shamelessly, smoothing your skirt as if you had done this every sunday of your life.

Sana only smiled at your eagerness, completely oblivious to the fact that your decision had nothing to do with spiritual focus and everything to do with proximity. Sitting at the front felt less like devotion and more like VIP seating for the sole purpose of seeing Fr. Jeon up close.

When the bell finally rang, the entire church rose to its feet. Your heart kicked up immediately as the sacristans entered in procession, one of them carrying a smoking thurible that swung gently with each step. And right at the center of it all was him.

Your future boyfriend.

Your lips parted slightly, eyes widening as Fr. Jeon walked slowly down the nave with calm, deliberate steps. His hands were clasped together in front of him in prayer, and he wore the full liturgical vestments—a long white linen robe beneath a green chasuble, a thin stole draped over his shoulders, and a cincture tied neatly at his waist. The fabric moved softly as he walked, making him look almost unreal under the church lights, like something out of a painting you weren’t supposed to stare at for too long.

He greeted people with gentle smiles along the way, bowing his head politely, even pausing to pat a few children on the head as he passed the pews.

By the time he reached the altar, your attention was fully locked in. 

Disingenuous.

You nodded a little too eagerly when responses were required, your voice coming out brighter than necessary during the choir parts, as if enthusiasm alone could prove your devotion. Every time he spoke, your focus sharpened, hanging onto his words a little too intently, even when you were supposed to be blending in with the rest of the congregation.

He was wearing his usual pair of glasses, slowly turning the pages of the bible with precise, practiced movements. His voice was steady and clear as he read, each word delivered with a calm authority that made it clear this role suited him completely. There was nothing rushed about him, nothing uncertain.. only a quiet certainty in the way he stood at the altar, as if it had always belonged to him.

By now, you had started mirroring him without even realizing it. Whenever he closed his eyes to say the prayers, you would close yours too, hands folded a little tighter than necessary, breathing in sync with the rhythm of the mass.

You were fucking crazy.

When it was time for the holy communion, you stood up almost too quickly, your heart thudding loudly in your chest as you joined the line forming in the aisle. Each step forward felt heavier than it should have, not because of the sacrament itself, but because of who was waiting near the altar.

“Are you alright?” Sana commented quietly when she noticed your flushed expression after the bell rang.

You let out a small, awkward laugh and instinctively smoothed down your long hair, trying to compose yourself. “Just thinking about my prayers,” you said lightly, as if that explanation made any sense at all.

She gasped, like you were really serious about your prayers, when all you could think about was—

He’s gonna feed me the host!

You were almost sweating as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the moment inch closer with every step in the line. Sana’s voice was still beside you, something about God always listening and having faith in his timing, but her words barely registered anymore. Your mind was elsewhere entirely, stuck on the growing realization that you were seconds away from facing him directly.

Preparing your hands in a prayer position, your brain almost short-circuited when you finally faced him, his right tatted hand holding the host up for you.

“The Body of Christ,” he said in a soft tone, almost detached in its reverence.

You wanted him to recognize you—the obedient good girl who always volunteered at the church. But fuck, he was too absorbed in God and the communion.

Your lips parted. “Amen…”

When he finally fed you the host, you almost choked when you felt the slight, accidental brush of his index finger against your lips as he withdrew his hand. You were left completely flustered, while he remained composed and focused on the ritual, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on you.

To you, it felt intimate. 

To him, it was simply the Eucharist…a sacred duty, a practiced motion repeated countless times.

When you returned to your seat and lowered yourself to kneel again, you pressed your hands together a little too tightly. In your head, you immediately apologized to God for every impure thought, questionable intention, and shameless moment you had done.

Then, without even a full second of self-reflection, you proceeded to ask if he could somehow let you be a little closer to Fr. Jeon.

Your priorities were clearly a work in progress.

“Sana, are you gonna visit the church this week?” you asked with a small smile, falling into your usual habit of checking with her.

For the past few weeks, your afternoons and weekends had quietly reshaped themselves around her schedule. 

It had become something strangely comforting… helping wherever you could, spending hours in a place that once felt unfamiliar but was now slowly turning into routine.

But of course, you couldn’t deny that recently, there was another reason woven into it too.

“Nope,” Sana replied as she hugged her books closer to her chest. “I have to study this week. Finals are coming up, and I still have a chemistry exam to review for before vacation starts.”

You groaned softly and walked beside her as the two of you left the campus. “Then why don’t we just stop by for a bit? To pray for good grades?” you suggested, lifting a brow as if it was the most logical solution in the world.

Please. Please. Please agree with me.

Sana pouted, clearly considering it for a moment, and your heart almost stopped in anticipation. Then she shook her head slowly, and your excitement deflated instantly.

“You’re right,” she said gently, “but it’s a long test, Y/N. I need to review all week. God would understand.”

She smiled softly and slipped her arm through yours. “Let’s just pray at home and do the rosary before reviewing.”

You forced a small smile, though your shoulders sagged slightly at the realization. It wasn’t just a missed church visit—it was a missed chance, even if you kept telling yourself it wasn’t supposed to be about that.

Sure, you would probably still see Fr. Jeon at sunday mass. He was the new presider in the city now, after all.

But it still wasn’t the same.

You almost groaned when you found yourself at the church that saturday morning. You were wearing a cream-colored dress, kitten heels, and a rosary necklace you had recently bought for the sole purpose of impressing Fr. Jeon. You had no idea whether he would even notice it, but in your mind, it felt like the kind of thing a good church girl would wear.

Preposterous.

Sashaying your way inside, you took in the usual parishioners and volunteers already busy arranging boxes for the charity drive.

You bit your lip. This was your first time visiting the church without Sana. Still, as you walked in, you were relieved when a few volunteers recognized you.

Thank God and all the saints.

You smiled and bent down to help with the boxes, already familiar with the routine—carrying them to the truck, sorting old clothes and toys, or helping with the lists.

If any of your uni friends saw you here alone, they would be completely confused. Without Sana, your sudden appearance at church would make absolutely no sense.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon.” someone greeted, and your ears immediately perked up. You turned just in time to see him entering the church halls in his usual black long sleeves and slacks.

You were only on your third box today! He was early!

Your lips curled into a small, excited smile as you instinctively stepped closer, box still in hand, already anticipating the familiar greeting and gentle pat on the head.

“Good day,” he said as expected, offering a polite nod before his hand lifted to pat your head.

Your eyelashes fluttered.

But instead of letting him move on to greet the others…for the first time in the past few weeks, you actually gathered the courage to stop him.

“Uh, Fr. Jeon?” you called softly just as he was about to turn away.

He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Yes, sweetheart?”

Jesus– God in heaven.

Your cheeks instantly reddened at the nickname, fingers tightening around the box. Still, you forced yourself to breathe, and finally blurted out the question you had been rehearsing all night.

“Just wondering if you have any c-chapter recommendations? I’m currently reading the bible and I don’t know where to start,” you said shyly.

There was a brief flicker of pleasant surprise on his face, quietly impressed that you were asking about the bible in the first place. It wasn't often that someone approached him with genuine curiosity about scripture.

He was about to answer when, suddenly…his attention shifted.

His gaze drifted downward, landing on the rosary hanging around your neck—the small cross resting between your breasts.

His lips pursed. “Sweetheart…rosaries are not meant to be worn as necklaces,” he chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on the rosary before looking back at you.

Your eyes widened. “I-It’s not…?” you asked, your ears and neck already heating in embarrassment.

Fuck. You didn’t know that! 

Fr. Jeon exhaled gently. “It’s a prayer tool,” he explained, his tone patient and calm. “Meant to be held in the hands… used in prayer, not displayed like jewelry.”

You blinked. “I-I didn’t know,” you admitted quickly, almost defensively. “I just really… like rosaries.”

Deception.

Fr. Jeon sighed softly, then lifted a hand to gently pat your head. “It’s okay…if you want, you can still wear rosary bracelets.” he offered you a small, reassuring smile.

You almost melted at his kindness. “R-Right, that would be better,” you said shyly, barely keeping yourself together.

He chuckled softly at your reaction, adjusting his glasses before finally returning to your original question. “If you’re reading the bible,” he added at last, “start with the gospels. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.”

You nodded quickly, smiling up at him as he returned a warm, genuine smile of his own.

“Noted, Fr. Jeon.” you smiled, unconsciously stepping a little closer. “...Uhm, d-do you have a bible in your office, Father?” you asked shyly, doing your best to sound innocent and academically curious. 

The moment the question left your mouth, you almost mentally slapped yourself.

Of course he has a bible in his office!

You opened your mouth, ready to rephrase the question, to save yourself from the embarrassment of sounding so foolish—but Fr. Jeon answered before you could.

“I do have a few bible collections in my office…would you like to see them?” Fr. Jeon offered, gesturing gently toward the church office.

You dropped the boxes. “Oh, my-”

Your plan actually worked!

Your eyes widened in horror. Mortified, you immediately bent down to pick them up, only to find Fr. Jeon already reaching for them.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he chuckled softly, lifting the boxes with ease as if they weighed nothing. “Let me carry these.”

“S-Sorry, it was kinda heavy,” you reasoned out, your neck already turning red. You still couldn’t believe you were actually having a full conversation with him.

And now he was even taking you to his office!

The Lord had truly answered your prayers.

With a polite smile, Fr. Jeon handed the boxes to the truck before gesturing for you to follow him toward the office.

“I can let you borrow a few scriptures if you’d like. I have the new version of the bible—would you want that?” Fr. Jeon asked as he reached into his pocket for his office keys.

You nodded immediately, hands clasping together behind your back. “Uh, yeah. That would be heavenly!”

Heavenly? For Christ’s sake, Y/N.

Fr. Jeon only smiled at that, unlocking and opening the office door as if he were letting you step into a space you had no right to be so excited about.

Pious.

You had done your research last night—it had been difficult since he was such a private person, but you had managed to learn a few things.

Fr. Jeon had been ordained only six months ago and was now officially assigned as the priest of your city’s parish, something you were embarrassingly looking forward to.

He was twenty-eight. He had studied arts before eventually pursuing theology. There were only a handful of photos of him online…mostly seminarian group pictures, a few formal ones where he wasn’t wearing his usual cassock, though he was always in long sleeves.

You had even found one rare image where he had rolled his sleeve slightly during a group photo, revealing part of a tattoo on his arm beneath a white long-sleeve shirt and a cross necklace.

“Fuck… he’s hiding all that under his sleeves?” you had muttered to yourself last night, squinting at the screen and trying to find more…only to realize there was barely anything else. No social media, no casual photos, nothing.

“Take a seat here. I’ll get the books for you,” Fr. Jeon said now, smiling as he gestured toward the small couch in front of his desk.

You nodded and sat down obediently, trying very hard to look like a good parish girl. 

His office was quiet and orderly in a way that immediately made you straighten your posture. The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves filled with thick religious texts, bible editions, theological commentaries, and neatly stacked parish documents. A simple desk sat against one side, organized and uncluttered, with a few folders, a pen holder, and a small lamp.

In the center of the room, mounted on the wall above the desk, hung a large crucifix—christ on the cross—watching over everything in silent stillness. The soft light from the window fell across it gently, making the entire room feel even more solemn, almost sacred.

Yet your thoughts were nowhere near sacred. You were here to attempt a very dangerous, carnal sin.

Seduction.

Masked in your perfect good-girl appearance, wondering if you could crack that unshakable composure he wore so effortlessly—if you could make his calm, holy restraint finally slip.

You slowly stood up from the couch while his back remained turned, focused on his bible scriptures. Your head tilted slightly as you tried to make it look as innocent as possible…to enter his space without revealing your true, sinful intentions.

“Fr. Jeon,” you called softly, standing too close behind him.

You needed to converse, to interact with him, to get him interested—to show him how much you adored God as much as he did.

“Hmm?” He didn’t glance at you, still focused on the scriptures.

You pouted, slowly taking a peek at what he was doing. “I was wondering if I could just read the bible here instead of borrowing it….” you attempted softly. “That way, if there’s something I don’t understand… I can ask you about it right away.” you said in a sweet, suggestive tone.

Fr. Jeon glanced at you, subtly stepping back when he realized you were right behind him, your vanilla scent brushing his senses.

He paused for a moment, looking into your hopeful eyes. 

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, a small smile appearing on his face. “That's actually a good idea. Understanding scripture is easier when you can discuss it with someone. If I'm here, feel free to ask me anything you're confused about.”

Providence.

You smiled brightly, feeling your relationship with him finally take another step forward.

“That would be great! Thank you, Fr. Jeon,” you said, tilting your head and giving him one of your most charming smiles.

It was absurd.

After your finals, you were granted a two-month semestral break, and instead of using that time to party, travel with friends, or go on night outs, you had spent nearly all of it at the church. 

Sana, unfortunately, never questioned your growing interest. She was too kind to question your faith.

Over the next few weeks, your afternoons were spent in the parish office, reading scripture, flipping through commentaries, and waiting for the familiar sound of the office door opening.

During those weeks, you managed to have a few small talks with him whenever he stopped by. You learned that he visited the church every day…sometimes to pray, sometimes to help with ongoing charity work, hear confessions, or simply check on the church office before moving on to his next responsibility.

Hearing about his schedule made you quietly adjust your own, ensuring you arrived at the office around 3 p.m.—the time he usually came in to check mails and paperwork at his office.

Today, you were wearing a baby blue dress that flowed nicely around your ankles, trimmed with delicate lace at the hem. Your hair was tied in a half ponytail with a blue ribbon, your makeup subtle, and your kitten heels matching the softness of your outfit.

Sana didn’t come with you every day anymore—she had other “holy” activities outside the church, like charity visits, helping at retreat houses, touring other churches, and even climbing mountains to visit shrines and statues. 

You had politely declined most of those invitations, telling her you found comfort in staying within your church’s city.

Disingenuous.

The rhythm between you had become almost routine. You would come to the office in the afternoons, sit down with a bible, and quietly read while asking him occasional questions whenever something didn’t make sense. 

Fr. Jeon would remain at his desk, either going through papers or reading his own scripture in silence. The room would stay mostly quiet, filled with the soft turning of pages and the steady presence of his focus, as if the world outside didn’t quite reach either of you in that space.

Sometimes you would try to steer the conversation a little further, testing small openings beyond scripture, but it always naturally circled back to the same things—bible passages, God, charity work, church matters… anything within that same unspoken boundary of the holy.

Yet, that alone felt like a privilege—being allowed into the quiet rhythm of his office, as if you belonged there too.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon. I brought some snacks for you,” you said with a smile as you entered the church’s office.

As usual, he was sitting at his desk, wearing his framed glasses while reading some papers.

You walked toward him and held up a small box of cookies you had gladly baked. “I made these…kind of like a thank-you gift for letting me stay here in the office,” you said proudly.

During your free time, you had spent the entire afternoon baking cookies for Fr. Jeon, thinking it would be a nice thank-you gift for him. At first, you had even wanted to decorate them with cute frosting faces of Jesus, convinced it would make you look extra devoted in his eyes.

Unfortunately, after staring at your frosting bag for ten minutes, you realized it might look a little too....performative.

So, with great reluctance, you abandoned your tiny Jesus-face cookie idea and settled for regular chocolate chip cookies instead.

The result sat neatly inside the box you now held out to him, carefully packed and decorated with far more effort than necessary.

Fr. Jeon looked at the cookies, his head tilting slightly when he noticed the box was covered in heart stickers. A soft smile formed on his lips, quietly touched by your kindness.

“That’s very kind of you, sweetheart.” he said softly, taking the box before looking up at you from his swivel chair. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Your cheeks flushed, making you feel like a schoolgirl finally noticed by your crush.

“No worries, Fr. Jeon… besides, I really like reading the bible here! it feels comforting,” you said, leaning in slightly as if to emphasize your point. “And thank you… you really help me understand it better when I get confused,” you added softly, fluttering your lashes at him.

He blinked slowly, clearly caught off guard by your sweet smile and the way you leaned in, his usual composure faltering for a brief moment as he paused.

“No...no problem sweetheart.” he said with a small smile. “I’m… glad you find comfort here. God will always find a way to comfort our souls.”

You smiled sheepishly and sat down on the small couch in front of his desk. “Hmm, I know…I always pray whenever I’m overwhelmed, somehow talking to God really helps me.” you said thoughtfully, even if you had only learned those kinds of phrases from Sana.

Fr. Jeon nodded quietly, he didn’t expect you to be this devoted.

You were very pure, kind, and charming. He had always noticed you volunteering at the church with your friend Sana—you would help with the boxes, sit around during her choir sessions, sometimes simply sit in the pew as if the presence of the church alone was enough for you.

It wasn’t hard to notice you. You were pretty and graceful, always smiling at everyone, carrying a soft, composed presence whenever he saw you at the church in your long skirts and modest blouses—like a quiet image of devotion itself. 

Despite that, his eyes never lingered. 

Always composed, always measured…because anything longer than a passing glance felt like something he shouldn’t allow himself.

Ever since you asked him about the bible that day, he had been quietly amazed. Nowadays, very few people showed genuine interest in scripture, let alone someone your age. 

Seeing your devotion—or what he believed was devotion…filled him with a warmth he hadn't expected. It was rare to meet someone so eager to learn more about God.

What he didn't realize was that your sweet, holy little plan had been working all along.

And what you didn't realize was that your sweetness, your smiles, your carefully built innocence—had been working from the very beginning.

You were so focused on the fact that his eyes never lingered, so convinced that he remained untouched by your presence, that you failed to see the subtle effect you had already left behind.

“What do you do during your free time, Fr. Jeon?” you asked casually one friday afternoon, trying your best to sound merely curious rather than interested. 

You had spent weeks keeping your questions safely within the boundaries of scripture. Careful not to reveal how badly you wanted to know the man behind the collar. 

So you kept your tone light and innocent, as though it were nothing more than a harmless question that had happened to cross your mind.

Fr. Jeon's head tilted slightly. He was sitting across from you at the small coffee table inside his office, a bible resting in his hands just like yours. 

“I visit charities,” he answered lightly. “I usually stay there for a while and spend time with the children.” a fond smile crossed his face at the memory.

Your lips parted. Oh! still religious.

“How about you, sweetheart?” Fr. Jeon asked.

You quickly searched for a suitably holy answer. “Umm, I-I sometimes climb mountains to visit shrines and blessed statues,” you said, biting your lip as you recalled one of Sana's favorite religious activities.

Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully, visibly impressed…his expression softening as if genuinely moved that you spent your free time in service of the Lord.

“What a good girl you are,” he said softly. 

His eyes lifted to meet yours for a brief moment—just long enough to make your heart stumble…before he looked away first, a small smile forming on his lips that he quickly hid as he lowered his gaze back to the bible.

Your lips parted slightly, warmth rushing to your cheeks at the compliment.

Good girl. Oh to be called his good girl.

Even though Sana had been busy lately with her other holy activities, you didn't mind attending mass alone. In fact, you were more than happy sitting in the front row. 

Your eyes would sparkle whenever Fr. Jeon spoke, your heart thumping whenever his gaze swept across the congregation and briefly met yours.

It always felt like a small victory, as though he was finally acknowledging you, finally noticing you.

“The Body of Christ.” Fr. Jeon held up the host.

“Amen,” you replied softly.

Unlike before, however, his gaze briefly lowered to meet yours. It lasted only a moment, accompanied by a small smile, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Enthralled.

Little by little, the distance between you seemed to shrink. The walls around him no longer felt quite as impenetrable as they once had.

Overtime, you had finally managed to crack through the edges of his usual reserve. What started as strictly scripture and charity talk had slowly, almost imperceptibly, begun to shift into something more personal. 

You learned how he first became interested in the priesthood, how his mother had served in the church, and how deeply devoted his family was to their faith. You even found the courage to ask about his tattoos, discovering they came from his love for art long before he pursued theology.

In return, you had shared little pieces of yourself as well—your hobbies, your favorite things, your likes and dislikes. Of course, you were careful to sprinkle in a little extra holiness whenever you could, always eager to impress him and maintain the image he seemed to have of you.

Fr. Jeon enjoyed your presence. It was refreshing to converse with someone who seemed to share the same interest and devotion that he held so dearly.

As the weeks passed, he found himself quietly looking forward to your visits, anticipating the familiar sound of your voice drifting into his office each afternoon. After all, you had always been naturally playful and talkative, and somehow… your constant babbling had become a welcome part of his routine.

It had been a month since you started spending your afternoons in his office. Upon entering, you found him sitting at the coffee table instead of his desk. Scattered across the table were several small boxes in different colors.

Curious, you stepped inside, your usual box of homemade cookies in hand—the same kind you brought him every week.

“What’s that, Fr. Jeon?” you asked, taking a seat across from him and placing the cookies on the table.

Fr. Jeon looked up and smiled. “When's your birthday, sweetheart?”

You blinked, a question that was out of the blue—like you were on a date, and he was casually getting to know you.

Your cheeks immediately flushed, you told him your birth date, unable to hide the slight confusion in your voice.

Fr. Jeon nodded thoughtfully before reaching for one of the small boxes on the table.

There were twelve of them in total, each a different color. Pink, purple, green, blue, yellow, and several others.

“This would be your birthstone color then,” he said with a fond smile, handing you the box that matched your birth month.

Confused, you picked up the box and slowly opened it.

A small rosary bracelet rested inside.

Your heart began thumping so loudly you could hear it in your ears as you remembered the conversation from weeks ago…when he had gently corrected you and told you that rosaries weren't meant to be worn as necklaces.

“T-This is for me?” you asked, eyes wide and sparkling.

Fr. Jeon smiled softly. “Yes, sweetheart. I didn't know your birthday, so I bought all twelve colors,” he admitted with a small chuckle, glancing at the remaining boxes on the table.

It was such a simple gift, yet your heart fluttered stupidly in your chest. Somehow, this meant more than the flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, and expensive jewelry your admirers had given you before.

Before you could stop yourself, you rose from your seat and threw your arms around him.

Fr. Jeon froze in surprise, his eyes widened as you suddenly closed the distance between you. The force of the hug nearly made him lose his balance in the chair as your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“Thank you, Fr. Jeon...so sweet of you.” you murmured, overwhelmed with happiness.

He gulped harshly. It had been a long time since he had been touched by a woman.

Not accidentally in a crowded place. Not a polite handshake after mass. Not a brief greeting exchanged out of courtesy.

A long time.

His heart raced against his ribs as your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Your hot breath fanned softly against his collar, carrying the familiar scent of vanilla that had become impossible for him not to recognize. The closeness was overwhelming in a way he hadn't expected, making him painfully aware of how little physical affection existed in his life.

His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before gripping the edge of the table instead. Every instinct told him to return the gesture, to place a comforting hand against your back and reassure you, but he remained still, forcing himself to hold onto his composure.

“You're welcome, sweetheart.” Fr. Jeon rasped, his voice coming out rougher than usual.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled brightly and sat back down in your chair, immediately slipping the bracelet onto your wrist.

Meanwhile, he remained frozen for a moment, trying to swallow away the lingering awareness of your closeness. The warmth of your embrace, your breath against his collar, the brief press of your breasts against him.

The hug had been innocent, sweet and harmless.

Which only made it worse.

Because he had no reason to be affected by it at all. He found himself quietly unsettled by the fact that he had needed to restrain himself in a moment that should have been nothing more than simple gratitude.

Temptation.

The next day, you proudly wore the rosary bracelet he had given you. You had even chosen a dress that matched its color, complete with a ribbon in your hair to tie everything together.

When you entered his office, you found Fr. Jeon standing by the bookshelves, a scripture in one hand. His glasses rested low on his nose as he read through a passage.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon,” you greeted happily, practically sashaying toward him.

His attention lifted from the page.

Immediately, you raised your wrist and showed off the bracelet. “Look,” you said with a grin.

Fr. Jeon glanced down, you were already twirling in place, eager to show him how the bracelet matched your dress.

Pretty.

The thought came so naturally that he frowned at himself.

“Good day, Y/N.” he replied, forcing his attention away from the observation.

You smiled brightly and wriggled your wrist. “I matched the bracelet with my dress and ribbon, see?”

Turning in a small circle again, you proudly showed off the entire outfit.

Fr. Jeon watched for a brief moment before lowering his gaze. Lately, he had become far too aware of things he shouldn't be noticing.

How pretty you looked whenever you walked into his office, how your face lit up whenever you talked to him, how easily your excitement filled the room.

Even your long dresses—soft fabric falling gently to your ankles, lace details tracing along the edges…began to feel distracting in a way he could not fully explain or justify. 

Turning innocent things into distractions. The modesty that should have protected his thoughts was beginning to have the opposite effect, making him painfully aware of the woman hidden beneath layers of fabric and lace.

Perhaps it was because it had been so long since he had allowed himself to be this close to a woman. Years spent in seminaries, rectories, church offices, and ministry had made him accustomed to a life of distance and discipline. He had grown comfortable in it.

Until you.

“Glad you like it, sweetheart,” he said at last, forcing a small smile before returning his attention to the scripture in his hands.

It was easier to focus on the page than on the way you were still standing there, smiling at him as if he had just given you the greatest gift in the world.

You giggled and stepped a little closer. “You know, I didn’t remove the bracelet yet… I’m planning on wearing it forever.”

Fr. Jeon raised a brow at that, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Really?” he asked, unable to hide the delightfulness in his voice.

“Yes! I didn’t even remove it when I took a bath,” you giggled, smiling at him with pure adoration.

His brows furrowed slightly at what you had just said, but before he could stop himself, a faint flush crept across his cheeks.

Test of faith.

His mind betrayed him for a brief second, wandering toward the image of you showering while still wearing the bracelet he had given you, carefully keeping it on even then. The thought was so sudden and inappropriate that he immediately felt ashamed.

He gulped harshly, disappointed in himself. He would have to repent later and ask the Lord for forgiveness for allowing such a crude thought to cross his mind.

Fr. Jeon could not entertain that desire. It was forbidden, a temptation that needed to be buried and forgotten before it could take root.

Yet despite the turmoil quietly unfolding inside him, he weakly reached over and gently patted your head.

His heart immediately thumped against his ribs when your eyes lifted to meet his, shining with unmistakable adoration at the simple gesture.

You beamed at him...letting out a small, delighted giggle that softened the moment even further.

Craving.

The past few weeks had been exhausting. As the city's new presider, he had been buried beneath paperwork and responsibilities. The church had also been flooded with parishioners seeking confession, and the lines seemed to grow longer with each passing day.

Hundreds of voices had passed through the confessional since then, each carrying their own sins, burdens, and regrets. Most of them faded from memory the moment absolution was given.

Yours hadn't.

Fr. Jeon leaned back in his chair and stared at the crucifix hanging on the office wall. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room.

He had spent years strengthening his faith, disciplining his mind, and dedicating himself entirely to the Lord. Yet lately, all it took was a sweet smile, an innocent touch, or the sound of your voice to shake that discipline.

Closing his eyes, he lowered his head.

"Lord, forgive me," he murmured quietly.

A threat to his devotion.

-

“Ouch, fuck,” you groaned, pulling the tray of cookies out of the oven.

You were baking a fresh batch for Fr. Jeon today, trying out a larger baking tray than usual so you could make more cookies at once. Unfortunately, the experiment immediately backfired.

As you bent down to take the tray out, the hot metal edge accidentally brushed against your inner thigh. You winced, pouting as you watched your skin slowly turn red.

“This looks so bad,” you murmured, setting the tray of cookies down on the counter.

Luckily, you had been wearing long skirts these days.

Prepping the boxes of cookies you had baked, you decided to wear a purple long lacey skirt paired with a cute ruffled top. Your hair was styled into low pigtail braids, each tied with a ribbon at the ends. Holding the box carefully, you frowned slightly when you felt the bandage rubbing against your swollen skin.

“Good day, Fr. Jeon, I got you cookies!” you beamed.

You noticed he had become even busier after being appointed as the city’s official presider, though you didn’t realize he had been deliberately drowning himself in paperwork—anything to keep his thoughts from drifting where they shouldn’t.

“Good day, Y/N,” he replied, glancing up for only a brief moment to return your smile before his attention went back to the documents in front of him.

You frowned slightly and placed the box of cookies on the table in front of him. “Got you a different flavor! It’s red velvet this time,” you said, pointing at the box with a small, proud smile.

Fr. Jeon glanced at them, warmth flickering in his chest before he quickly pushed it down.

“Thank you, Y/N… that’s very kind of you,” he said gently, his tone careful, as though he was trying to place distance even while accepting your kindness.

You pouted almost immediately. The response felt far too brief for someone who had spent the morning baking for him.

Wanting his attention back on you, you shifted your weight and played with the ends of your braid, searching for something that would pull his focus away from the paperwork on his desk.

“You know… I even got burned earlier because I used a bigger tray and it hit me,” you said with a small chuckle, watching him carefully for a reaction. “But it’s fine, I’m just worried it might leave a mark,” you added with a light giggle, unable to hide the hopeful note in your voice as you waited for him to look at you again.

That got his attention immediately.

His brows furrowed as he looked up from the papers, concern breaking through the careful distance he had been trying to maintain. His eyes instinctively moved to your hands, searching for any sign of injury.

“Where is it? Let me see,” Fr. Jeon said, the concern in his voice unmistakable. His gaze lingered on your fingers and wrists, unable to find the burn he was looking for.

You had to fight the smile threatening to appear.

Slowly, you made your way around the table until you were standing beside him. From his swivel chair, he tilted his head back to follow your movement, his attention still fixed on your hands.

“It’s not there, Fr. Jeon…” you said softly. “Here...”

A small giggle escaped you as you gently lifted the hem of your long skirt. 

His eyes widened instantly, panic flashing across his face before he could hide it. Before you could lift your skirt any higher, his hand shot forward on instinct, wrapping around your wrist to stop you.

“W-What are you doing?” he asked, nearly choking on the words.

The reaction was immediate, almost alarmed, as though the sight of you standing there with your hands on your skirt had caught him completely off guard. His grip wasn't harsh, but it was firm enough to halt your movement, his composure visibly rattled.

“I burned my thighs, Fr. Jeon… see?” you said innocently, lifting the fabric just enough to reveal the bandage wrapped beneath.

His lips parted at the sight, momentarily stunned.

The bandage sat against your soft thighs, the realization of how close he was to something so private making his mind go blank for a second. 

He had never seen so much of you like this before—not this close, not this exposed in such an unguarded, unexpected way.

Your thighs looked so soft, pink and smooth… faintly marked by the redness around the bandage, drawing attention to how tightly you had wrapped it. 

“It hurts a little,” you pouted, pointing at it.

His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, his gaze immediately faltering. Behind his glasses…his pupils were dilated, his ears and neck flushing red. His hands gripped the sides of his swivel chair tightly, as though grounding himself in place.

“Y-You wrapped it wrong,” he managed to say at last, his voice strained. He cleared his throat and forced his attention elsewhere, brows furrowing as he tried to recover his composure.

You tilted your head. “I did?” you looked down, trying to check your bandage when he suddenly stood up.

“I-I have a first aid kit in my cabinet. Sit in my swivel chair...I-I’ll wrap it for you,” he said quickly, already turning away from you as if creating distance would steady him. Without waiting for another reaction, he walked toward the cabinet near the bookshelves.

You bit your lip. “Okay…”

You obediently sat down in his swivel chair, a small, satisfied feeling flickering in your chest when you noticed how concerned…and slightly flustered—he seemed.

When he returned, he was holding a small first aid kit. Your breath caught slightly when he suddenly knelt in front of you.

“L-Lift your skirt, please.” he said, his tone firm but strained, his brows drawn together as he deliberately avoided looking too directly while waiting for you to comply.

Your heart stammered, green thoughts flowing inside your filthy brain.

With shaky, anticipatory hands, you lifted your skirt up to your inner thighs, purposefully raising it a little higher than necessary.

When he looked at your exposed thighs, his breath hitched. He tried to remain as calm as possible, forcing himself to focus. Slowly, he reached for the bandage, almost flinching when he felt the softness of your skin beneath the rough pad of his fingers.

“It’s too tight,” he said breathily, his hands trembling as he unwrapped the bandage from your thigh.

“Is it?” you said softly, watching the way his lips were slightly parted, his expression focused and controlled.

When the burn was finally exposed, his brows furrowed. “You should be more careful, Y/N.” he said quietly.

He took a small tube of ointment from the kit, applying a bit to his index finger before carefully spreading it over the burn.

You winced slightly at the contact, while his attention remained fixed and steady as he worked.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice lower than usual as he briefly checked your reaction before focusing back on the injury.

You bit your lip. “J-Just a little bit.”

He sighed harshly at that, gently rubbing the ointment in with steady movements, though you could see beads of sweat slowly forming on his forehead.

“Just a little more,” he murmured almost under his breath, applying another layer of ointment. His control was thinner now, each movement more deliberate than the last, as if he was carefully holding himself together.

When he took the new bandage, he wrapped it carefully around your burn with precise, practiced hands. Once he was done, he immediately adjusted your skirt, smoothing it down with controlled efficiency…perhaps a little too quickly, as though creating distance from the moment itself.

When he stood up, you could see it more clearly now: the restraint in his posture, the tension in his jaw, the way his composure wasn’t as effortless as before. He looked like he was actively holding himself back from something, grounding himself before it showed too much.

“Thank you,” you said warmly, smiling up at him.

He looked down at you, tilting his head slightly at how innocent you appeared with your ribbons and braids.

Forbidden.

That night, Fr. Jeon fell into the forbidden temptation he had been trying so hard to resist.

It was ten o’clock, yet he remained inside the church office, refusing to leave the premises until his mind and soul were free of guilt.

Frustrated, he buried himself in scripture, but his thoughts kept drifting back to your soft, beautiful thighs and the rosary bracelet on your wrist that had stirred such sinful thoughts within him.

“Forgive me,” he muttered under his breath, his tattooed hand sliding down his slacks to palm his hardening cock.

His lips parted. It had been a very long time since he had touched himself...he had almost forgotten how good it felt. With a shaky breath, he slowly stroked his growing erection, murmuring apologies and curses beneath his breath.

He nearly rolled his eyes back at the sensation. It felt far too good. His cock hardened with alarming ease at the mere thought of you.

Lust.

With trembling hands, he slowly pulled his cock free from his slacks. It was thick and pulsing, a bead of precum already forming at the swollen tip.

When his tattooed hand squeezed the base, more fluid gathered at the head, coating his throbbing shaft.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered under his breath, a groan escaping him as he rediscovered how good it felt to touch himself after so long.

It was sinful. Dirty.

He was still inside the church office, dressed in his usual black clerical shirt with its roman collar. Scripture lay open on his desk, and his glasses had begun to fog from the heat of his breath.

It had been years. He could no longer remember the last time he had touched a woman, nor the last time he had thought of one this way. When he devoted himself to the Lord, he had promised never to indulge in such acts again.

The longer he had restrained himself, the better it felt to finally release that tension after so many years. His cock almost ached. Thick and veiny, it twitched whenever he rolled the foreskin down.

“God, help me.” Fr. Jeon moaned shamelessly, jerking himself in slow, deliberate strokes, determined to savor every second of it.

He gathered spit in his mouth and let it trickle down his aching shaft. The added lubrication drew a groan from him. He bit down hard on his lip as the realization struck him once more—how good this felt, how much he had missed touching himself.

His thoughts drifted to you.

He imagined your sweet confession about still wearing the rosary bracelet he had given you... even while bathing. The thought lingered longer than it should have, unfurling in his mind as he pictured your small, delicate hands gliding a bar of soap across your soft skin. The rosary would brush against your chest with every movement, the beads shifting and sliding as you washed your nipples.

And then his thoughts wandered further, painting one image after another—your inner thighs, the way the beads might accidentally graze your soft skin as you shower. Each vision arrived unbidden, more vivid than the last, and far more difficult to suppress.

A sacred desire.

He was leaking more and more with every thought of you. The only sound echoing through the office was the wet rhythm of his hand jerking along his hard leaking cock.

Curious, he gathered a bead of precum between his thumb and index finger and brought it to his lips. The taste was salty, thick, and strangely addicting.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, collecting more of it only to taste himself again.

Your forbidden thighs.

The softness of them. The way he had been close enough to imagine burying himself in their warmth. The way they flushed pink beneath his touch. The way they looked so plump and beautiful, tempting thoughts he should never have entertained.

He imagined pressing kisses along your legs, lingering there as though each touch were an act of devotion. He imagined how soft your pussy would feel beneath his lips, how he would part your folds just to stare at your glistening cunt, worshipping it with the reverence of a prayer.

Fr. Jeon was close to climaxing, using memories of your past interactions to fuel his sinful fantasies. His hand was slick with saliva and precum, his thighs tensing as he struggled to hold himself back. He tried to edge himself, to prolong the moment, because the sensation felt far too good after so many years of restraint.

Your body. Even beneath your long dresses and modest blouses, he could tell you were beautiful.

It shamed him that it had been one of the first things he noticed when he saw you wearing that rosary. The way your chest filled out your modest clothing. The way your waist appeared so delicate beneath layers of fabric. The way he found himself wondering what was hidden beneath all that lace and decency.

It was a sin he was terrified to acknowledge. A sin he was terrified to put into words.

But you were beautiful, kind, gentle, and devoted in your faith.

He wanted to fuck you.

When the shameful thought finally broke free from the restraints he had placed upon it, he came hard, his release staining the dark fabric of his slacks.

A deep groan tore from his throat as he continued to stroke himself, milking every last wave of pleasure from his body. His thumb brushed along the underside of his cock, chasing the lingering sensitivity.

“Fuck, I’m still hard,” he muttered, biting his lower lip as he glanced down at himself.

It was understandable.

After years of abstinence, it wasn't surprising that his body responded so eagerly. The restraint he had maintained for so long seemed to have shattered all at once.

Yearning.

All night, instead of losing himself in scripture, he gave in to temptation. His hand jerked shamelessly over his cock as his thoughts returned to you again and again. To every forbidden desire he had tried to suppress. To every impulse he had buried beneath prayer, discipline, and devotion.

Hours passed unnoticed.

He had so much pent-up desire, so much neglected hunger, that he remained awake until dawn, caught in an endless cycle of pleasure in jerking his insatiable cock. The office grew quiet around him while the darkness slowly gave way to morning light, yet his thoughts never strayed far from your face, your kindness, and the feelings he had spent so long denying.

And the fantasies that filled his mind were so sinful that he feared they had carried him beyond forgiveness.

“This should do it,” you giggled to yourself, wrapping the bandage poorly on purpose so he would have an excuse to fix it for you again.

Your box of cookies was already prepared, resting neatly on your lap while you held a bible in your hands and waited for Fr. Jeon.

Unfortunately, hours passed with nothing but the sound of turning pages accompanying you. You flipped through scripture after scripture, occasionally glancing toward the door, expecting him to appear at any moment.

Yet he never came.

Confused, you eventually stepped out of the office to look for him yourself. Perhaps he was outside helping with the donations or speaking with parishioners, as he often did. But after wandering around the church grounds and checking every place you could think of, you still couldn't find him anywhere.

“Where is he?” you pouted to yourself, a disappointed sigh slipping past your lips as you made your way back to his office.

By the time you returned, the warm glow of sunset had already begun spilling through the stained-glass windows.

Realizing he wasn't coming, you reluctantly decided to leave the cookies behind along with a small handwritten note. The thought alone made your chest feel strangely heavy.

“I miss him already,” you murmured, frowning at your own words.

It wasn't as if you could simply call or text him. Despite spending weeks at the church, Fr. Jeon had never given you his number, and you had never found the courage to ask for it. Perhaps it was because you preferred seeing him in person.

The idea of receiving his answers through a text message whenever you had questions about scripture felt disappointing somehow. You liked sitting across from him, listening to his voice as he patiently explained things to you. You liked the little smiles he gave you, the way his attention never seemed rushed, and the comfort that came with simply being around him.

That day left you unusually sad. It was the first time you hadn't seen him at all. Even when he was busy, he always managed to stop by, if only for a minute. No matter how much work he had, he never missed the opportunity to check on you.

Avoidance.

You came back today...hopeful that you would finally see him again and finally ask where he had been yesterday, you were instead met with confusion when he didn’t appear again. You pouted when you noticed the box of cookies you had left behind was still untouched, exactly where you had placed it.

“That’s odd, he can’t miss a bible reading,” you murmured to yourself, already accustomed to his usual routine. He always visited the church at a certain time to pray quietly and read scripture before continuing his day, and you had grown used to waiting for him during those moments.

But days passed, and he was still nowhere to be seen.

The cookies you had prepared for him began to lose their freshness, and the papers he usually kept neatly on his desk started to gather dust. A strange sense of unease settled in your chest as you tried to understand what had changed.

You asked around the church, speaking to parishioners and volunteers, hoping someone might have seen him or could explain where he had gone. But what you learned nearly broke your heart.

He was still coming to the church every day. He just arrived earlier now.

You had always known his schedule well—he used to visit his office around three in the afternoon, which was why you were always there waiting at that time. You never thought he would suddenly change it without warning.

“T-Thank you,” you managed to say, forcing a small smile when one of the parishioners finally informed you that he had been seeing Fr. Jeon every morning. You were lucky this particular parishioner stayed at the church throughout the day, otherwise you might never have learned the truth.

Still, the information left you disappointed and strangely hurt.

The fact that he was visiting every day but never acknowledged your cookies. The fact that he never even left a note to explain. The fact that you had been waiting for him all this time, dressed in your usual modest dresses, as if your presence alone meant anything to him.

Tears slowly began to gather in your eyes for reasons you couldn’t fully understand. It felt almost like being rejected without a single word, like a quiet heartbreak you hadn’t been prepared for. It seemed as though he was suddenly avoiding you.

“What did I do?” you pouted softly to yourself, walking home with slumped shoulders as you tried to wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

On the way, your thoughts turned over your last interaction with him. Had you been too bold? Had he noticed something in you that you thought you had hidden well? Had he finally realized that your devotion wasn’t as pure as it appeared?

The more you thought about it, the more desperate you became to see him again. And instead of wanting to reveal your true ill intentions, you found yourself wishing the opposite—that he would see how devoted you were, how deeply you admired him, how willingly you would sacrifice your dignity just to remain close to him.

Restraint.

You didn’t know that he had been avoiding you all along, because your sick plan had finally taken effect, his careful restraint crumbling like a rock under pressure.

Fr. Jeon couldn’t bring himself to face you. Even the slightest eye contact felt like it would burn through his skin, your presence alone eating away at whatever remained of his guilt until there was nothing left but discomfort and temptation.

Desperate.

You woke up early that day, preparing yourself carefully so you could see him. The constant overthinking had become unbearable, and you were convinced that seeing him would finally calm your thoughts.

Slowly, you walked through the church halls, your kitten heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Your wandering gaze passed over parishioners and silent figures lost in prayer, the morning air gentle and warm as it settled over your chaotic mind. The scent of the church—fresh flowers and holy water—was oddly soothing as you moved deeper inside.

But as you went further in, you nearly lost your balance when you noticed his office door slightly ajar.

Your heart began to pound in anticipation as you carefully approached. And when you finally looked inside, your eyes widened.

There he was.

In his usual black clerical long-sleeved shirt and roman collar, Fr. Jeon stood looking down at the box of cookies you had left a week ago.

Your heart sank at the realization that he must have seen the box of cookies days ago—and still chose to ignore it.

Taking a steadying breath, you stepped inside and gently closed the door behind you, locking it without hesitation.

“Fr. Jeon,” you said softly.

He looked up immediately, his eyes widening as though he had seen something he shouldn’t have. For a brief moment, he looked almost like he had seen a ghost. His entire body stiffened, tension tightening in his posture as he forced himself upright.

“What are you doing here?” His tone came out sharper than intended, almost accusatory, as he tried to regain control of himself by straightening his clerical collar and adjusting the bridge of his glasses.

You frowned at the reaction, slowly taking a step closer. Something in your chest cracked when you noticed how his expression shifted with each movement you made—his brows tightening, his gaze dropping as if he couldn’t bear to hold it steady on you for too long.

“You didn’t get the cookies I got you,” you said with a small pout, glancing between the box and him as if the answer should have been obvious.

Fr. Jeon bit his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment, as though needing time to steady himself.

“I was… busy,” he said, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. He almost stepped back when you moved closer.

You tilted your head at him. “Am I taking too much of your time, Father?” you asked softly, your voice carrying a sad little pout.

Patience.

Fr. Jeon exhaled slowly and heavily, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as if trying to ground himself. Your presence alone seemed to shut down every carefully built wall he had been maintaining.

He looked down at your sad pout, and something in him nearly cracked at the sight of your sadness. For a moment, his composure faltered as fantasies surged back in, uninvited and overwhelming.

For the past few days, he had been deliberately avoiding you. He had started arriving at the church earlier, knowing you always came in the afternoon, carefully timing his routines so he would not run into you. He avoided his office as well, because every corner of it reminded him of you.

But this morning, he had come in anyway.

And the first thing he saw was the box of cookies you had left behind… along with a small note that said you missed him.

Desire.

For the past few nights, he had been jerking his cock non-stop. Ever since that first time, he couldn’t shake the feeling, couldn’t resist the urge to return to it again and again—groaning your name under his breath like a sacred prayer.

“No, sweetheart… I’m just—”

“I’m sorry… I just really like it here, and I love talking to you,” you said in a soft tone, stepping closer until he could smell your vanilla perfume, your pleading eyes pulling him deeper into your orbit.

Fr. Jeon swallowed harshly, his pulse quickening at how sweet and beautiful you looked for him.

“Sweetheart—”

“Would you like me to leave?” you asked quietly, biting your lower lip.

His eyes dropped to your lips. His hands curled into fists, every passing second testing his hard-earned faith and devotion.

But no...he would rather endure the torment alone, rather than risk touching your beautiful, tempting soul.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you much of my time right now. I’ve been really busy—” Fr. Jeon said with finality.

Suddenly, you rose onto your tiptoes to meet his height and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“It’s okay, Father… I understand,” you whispered, your lips lingering dangerously close to his.

Succumbed.

Before you could pull away, his hands slid to your waist, steadying you—holding you in place more firmly than expected. You were about to look at him in confusion when he suddenly crashed his lips into yours.

Your eyes widened, your body nearly falling backward, but he held you firmly in place. His kiss was harsh and desperate—like a man starved, and you were the only water in a burning desert.

His tongue forced its way into your mouth, and the sound of his low groan sent shivers down your spine.

His brows were furrowed tightly, every bit of pent-up frustration spilling into the kiss. It was rough, consuming—his control slipping as he pulled you deeper into it, saliva beginning to spill messily between your mouths from how intensely he claimed your lips.

When he finally pulled away, his pupils were blown wide. His lips were red and swollen, his chin damp with both of your saliva.

He released your waist almost instantly, as though you had burned him.

Swallowing hard, he stared down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Oh God. What had he done?

“W-What—” you stammered, bewildered, still in shock at how easily Fr. Jeon—a priest with such a good reputation….had fallen into your lips like a man undone by weakness and lust.

Surrendered.

When you saw him step back, his brows furrowing as if he had just realized what he had done, you immediately grabbed his arms.

“I—I’m sorry, this is blasphemous, I—”

You pulled him back and kissed him again, softer this time. “I like you, Fr. Jeon. Please don’t avoid me,” you almost pleaded, tugging him down so you could reach his lips again.

His eyes widened. He shook his head immediately. “Y/N, n-no… this is wrong,” he blurted weakly, trying to grab your wrists as you pulled him closer.

Hearing those words from your mouth struck something deep in him, shaking his resolve. He couldn’t fall for you, he couldn’t kiss you, he couldn’t touch you...he couldn’t even think about you.

The only solution was to stay away—to pretend none of this had ever happened.

You shook your head. “Please, I want you so badly… there’s nothing wrong with this,” you insisted, trying to kiss him again, but he turned away. His eyes were heavy-lidded, weakened, the air in the office suddenly suffocating.

“You make me happy, Fr. Jeon… please,” you pleaded.

He shook his head firmly. “I am a priest, Y/N. This is forbidden,” he said weakly, his voice low and rough—like every word cost him something, like it was painful to say.

“But...why did you kiss me?” you pleaded.

Fr. Jeon groaned under his breath, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Do you like me too, Fr. Jeon?” you pushed further, stepping closer, watching how much it seemed to strain him.

“Y/N, this is wrong—”

Your lips parted. “You...you like me,” you concluded when he didn’t deny it.

A small smile formed on your lips at the confirmation. Suddenly, the past few weeks made sense—the distance, the avoidance, the restraint. Everything clicked into place.

When he weakly let go of your wrists, you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, as if he had finally surrendered to you. His lips parted, his eyes clouded and hazy.

“Since when, Father?” you whispered, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He shut his eyes tightly. The feeling of your hands on him was already enough to send him spiraling. His lack of physical affection was becoming obvious in the way his body reacted—his restraint slipping under something as simple as your soft, shallow touch.

“The first time I saw you at the church,” he whispered so low you almost didn’t catch it, as though even admitting it was a sin.

You gasped, your eyes widening at the revelation that he had noticed you from the very beginning.

“I-I thought… you didn’t recognize me. Y-You were always so busy and—”

“I did,” he cut in softly, his voice rough. “But it’s impure of me to stare at such beauty. I cannot do that.”

His gaze dropped to your lips again, weak and conflicted.

You gasped, a fond grin forming on your beautiful face. “Indeed, that’s very impure of you…Father,” you giggled.

Fr. Jeon groaned, attempting to step back again, but this time you pulled him closer and kissed him without hesitation. When you tried to part his lips with yours, you felt him shake his head, his hands gripping your waist to hold you back.

“N-No… we can’t—”

“Shh... it’s okay, Father… we’ll keep this a secret,” you whispered like a little devil in disguise, your pouty lips brushing against his again. “No one will know…”

Fr. Jeon groaned, your words sending shivers down his spine. The tension between restraint and desire tightened further.

“No, sweetheart, this is wrong… we should—”

“Please, Father…I’m already so wet.” you mumbled softly, looking at him with pleading eyes.

His eyes widened. It had been a long time since he had heard such crude words—especially coming from a pretty mouth like yours.

“T-That’s—” he stammered, his composure slipping further under the weight of you.

“Unholy?” you giggled, taking his right hand and guiding it beneath your long skirt.

His lips parted when his fingers brushed against the wet fabric of your underwear. His cheeks and ears burned red at the realization of how aroused you were.

You bit your lip, rising onto your tiptoes to whisper against his ear.

“No one will know.” you dragged your tongue along the shell of it, smiling when you heard him let out a soft, broken sound.

Blasphemous.

His lips grazed your inner thighs as his once devout, God-bound gaze now fixed on your bare, wet pussy. He knelt before you like you were some immaculate saint.

“Y-You’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly, his fingers parting your folds and gently pulling back your hood to expose your sensitive clit.

You gasped loudly when he spat onto your center, his soft lips immediately wrapping around your clit, sucking in both his saliva and your wetness.

“Oh, God,” you moaned.

Fr. Jeon looked almost sacred between your thighs. Your skirt was bunched at your waist just enough for him to fully indulge in your pussy, while his black clerical shirt began to stain from how much you were dripping onto him. His glasses had grown slightly fogged from the heat of his breath against your body and the warmth between your legs.

He ate your pussy like a starving man, unable to get enough. His tongue pushed inside your tight cunt in search of more, drawing more juices from you, while the obscene sounds of his mouth filled the room. His throat worked with every swallow, adam’s apple bobbing as he greedily took in every drop you gave him.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled between your thighs, the vibration of his voice sending pleasure straight to your core.

You bit your lip, giggling softly while trying to keep your balance—you were leaning against his desk.

“Do you like how wet it is?” you asked, looking down at him as if amused by how much he was enjoying himself.

Fr. Jeon nodded against your cunt. “So wet and pretty,” he mumbled, sucking your clit until his cheeks hollowed, his dimples showing each time he latched on harder.

The way he ate you out was wet and messy, continuously spitting as his lips stayed locked around your clit. You gasped when he pinched your folds together, trying to eat your entire pussy into his warm mouth.

Every time you squirmed, he tightened his grip on your thighs, groaning under his breath as if he wanted to drown himself in you completely.

Whenever he pulled back to breathe, he took a moment to stare at your swollen, messy cunt—admiring it like something sacred, something almost holy in its beauty. He whispered how ethereal it was before spitting on it again and diving back in hungrily.

“H-How come you’re so good at that?” you moaned, looking down at his mouth as he remained relentless, your juices dripping down his chin.

Fr. Jeon looked up at you, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I’ve fantasized about this,” he said with a smile. “I imagine devouring your cunt while I jerk off my cock.”

He pressed a light kiss to the top of your clit before burying his face against you again.

Your eyes rolled back at the confession, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Hmm... really? That’s ungodly, Father.”

Fr. Jeon only groaned, pressing his face deeper until you were certain he could barely breathe. “I’m only willing to surrender myself to you.”

You gasped. The way he said it felt so wrong, so forbidden, and your pussy throbbed at the thought of him willingly committing such sinful acts, of him literally being on his knees for you.

When he felt your wetness growing, he lifted his head slightly to look at your cunt. Using his index and middle finger, he spread you open, watching as more of your milky-white juices gathered.

Fr. Jeon groaned, swallowing hard at the sight of how wet and horny you had become.

“You like that, sweetheart?”

He gathered your juices, the pads of his fingers sliding down your slit and making you flinch. Your breath caught when you watched him scoop your cum onto his fingers and bring them to his mouth, tasting your sweetness. "You got so much wetter."

“Fr. Jeon, oh my—”

He continued gathering the excess wetness, scooping up your cum until he was satisfied that you were no longer dripping. His brows furrowed as he sucked the collected juices from his fingers, unwilling to let any of it go to waste.

When he finally gathered the last drop, you frowned as he rose to his feet.

For a moment, you thought he was done. Then he brought his fingers, coated with your cum, up to your mouth.

“Open up, sweetheart.” he whispered, his gaze lowering to your lips, swollen from how hard you had been biting them.

You slowly opened your mouth, moaning when he slid his fingers inside so you could taste your own juices mixed with traces of his saliva.

“You taste like sin, don’t you?” he said softly, his fingers twirling inside your mouth, nearly making you gag.

You sucked on his fingers, your cheeks hollowing eagerly as you looked up at him with expectant eyes. “Mhm. I want to taste how pure you are, then,” you said softly, sucking his fingers the way you imagined sucking his cock.

His cock twitched inside his slacks, precum already gathering at the swollen tip.

He immediately shook his head. “Want to make you cum first, sweetheart.”

Before you could protest, he was already kneeling again, his tongue out as he buried his face between your thighs as though his life depended on it. His nose brushed against your swollen clit while his tongue alternated between slow, deliberate licks and eager suction, determined to draw every reaction from you.

The moment he sensed you were getting close, he pushed his tongue deeper, determined to suck every drop. You were about to push him away from the sudden wave of oversensitivity, but his grip on you tightened.

"I wanna swallow it, please."

You bit down hard on your lip, whispering curses beneath your breath as your body tensed. Your pussy pulsed uncontrollably, heat rushing through you as release overtook your senses.

He groaned at the way your body responded to him, your pussy throbbing vigorously against his tongue.

“I-I want to pleasure you too,” you almost cried.

He didn't stop eating you, even after you came he was sucking your pussy again. He had already made you cum several times just by eating you out. Even after your fifth orgasm, he still hadn’t stopped—still devouring you, drawing out every last drop before spitting it back down onto your slit, pulling your folds apart just to watch it drip, then catching it again with his tongue as if he couldn’t get enough.

You were already overstimulated, your thighs burning from his tight grip, but every time you looked down at him, another wave of arousal surged through you. His brows were furrowed, his eyes closed, almost as if he were praying.

“Please, I want to eat your pussy more.” he mumbled, looking up at you through his glasses, his tongue teasing slow circles around your very swollen clit.

It had been hours. His knees were already red from kneeling, and your back ached from leaning against his desk, yet he still had the stamina to continue, again and again. His cheeks and chin were slick from your cum.

You could see his slacks straining…his arousal obvious beneath the fabric—but he remained focused, almost pleading when you tried to push him away, his mouth still following your spent pussy as if he couldn’t let go.

“Please… one more, sweetheart,” he begged, his thumb soothing along your inner thighs.

When you shyly nodded, he parted your legs further, scooping up what remained of your release as it dripped down. His face pressed in close, his nose brushing against you as he worked, the carpet below you already damp with a mixture of saliva and your arousal.

Unholy.

The once-simple afternoon bible sessions had turned into something far more profane.

The moment you arrived at his office and locked the door behind you, his hands were immediately around you. He would drop to his knees, pushing your panties aside so he could press his face against your wet slit, sniffing your cunt before his tongue slipped out to taste your wetness.

“Hmm… do you like my pussy, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered, fingers tangling in his hair as he indulged you.

He groaned against you, burying his face deeper. “Like it so much.”

He was always so desperate—needy, almost whiny. It was obvious how deeply his years of abstinence had affected him, how long he had denied himself even the thought of such intimacy.

Every touch carried the weight of that restraint, as though all those years of self-denial had finally found an outlet. The way he ate your pussy for hours without stopping, the way he would suck your breasts until they turned swollen and red.

Every time you tried to touch him, he would pin your hands down instead. You had never really touched him yet—he always insisted on giving first, on worshipping you instead. He would say that pleasing you was enough,that eating your cum was enough for him, that devoting himself to your body was what satisfied him most.

“Shh, sweetheart… please be quiet.” he pleaded, his middle and index finger pushing inside your cunt, knuckles deep while massaging your spongy spot.

You were certain his fingers were already wrinkled from how long he had been fingering you, your nipples swollen and sensitive from how harshly he had been sucking them while rubbing your clit.

You bit your lip, tears almost forming in your eyes from how good it felt. “S-sorry, it’s just so good,” you mumbled incoherently.

Fr. Jeon groaned. “Yeah?” He spat down where his fingers met your pussy. “Hear that, sweetheart? You’re so wet for me.” he muttered, biting your nipple harshly while his fingers continued going in and out of your wet cunt, the sounds echoing inside the church office.

You were always a whining mess. Even if he hadn’t fucked you yet, your body was constantly left exhausted from how intensely he made you cum repeatedly. Your legs were always wobbly and shaking after each round, and you would always come home with new hickeys and bruises left by his harsh mouth.

He had the stamina to go on for hours and hours, until the entire afternoon was filled with nothing but wet sounds and your filthy moans echoing through his office.

You wanted to return the pleasure so badly, but every time he begged you to eat your pussy, your knees would go weak. You always gave him what he wanted, opening your legs and spreading your cunt for him.

It was one afternoon when you decided that you wanted to please him.

He was busy sucking on your nipples when you noticed how hard he was beneath his slacks. Your eyes rolling back when you saw him almost humping the air.

With a determined groan, you gently pushed him away from you. Your nipples were already pink and swollen.

“Let me taste you,” you pleaded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before trailing down his jaw.

He protested again, trying to guide you back against the couch.

“Sweetheart—”

“Please, Father.” you begged. “You always make me cum so good. I think I’d cum even harder if I got to taste your cock.”

You couldn’t deny that he always left you more than satisfied, constantly pushing you to the edge of overstimulation. Every time it happened, you could see just how hard his cock was. Sometimes, you would even catch the subtle movements of his hips while he was buried between your thighs, completely consumed by pleasuring you.

Fr. Jeon licked his lower lip, as though contemplating whether he could truly accept the idea of you being on your knees for him. It felt like too much to bear, as if he wasn’t ready for it yet. Shamefully, he was certain he would cum the moment your lips touched his tip.

But seeing you like this—begging, your lips drawn into a sweet pout—made his resolve weaken. His eyes fluttered shut helplessly as you eagerly knelt in front of him.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, swallowing hard.

You looked up at him before slowly leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against the bulge beneath his slacks.

A harsh groan escaped him. His cock throbbed beneath the fabric, and that simple, innocent kiss was almost enough to make him stumble.

When you pulled down his zipper, you gasped audibly at the sight of his black boxers, already soaked with a large patch of wetness from his precum.

“You’re leaking, Father,” you said with a pout, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

He sucked in a breath, his hands curling into fists as he struggled to compose himself. You looked beautiful and completely undignified at the same time, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to resist.

Slowly, you tugged down his boxers...just enough to tuck his balls and free his hard cock.

Your eyes widened.

He was huge and pretty, twitching on his own and curving upward. Thick veins ran along his shaft, and his swollen pink tip glistened with precum.

You licked your lower lip, unable to hide your anticipation at the sight of him. Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss to the wet tip.

A strained whimper escaped him.

His hands immediately grabbed the sides of his clerical shirt, as though physically restraining himself from losing control over something as simple as your lips touching him.

“Look at me when I suck you, Fr. Jeon.” you said, raising a brow when you noticed him avoiding eye contact.

He bit his lower lip, trying to look down at you.

You gasped when his cock twitched the moment you made eye contact.

With a teasing look, you slowly sucked his mushroom tip while keeping your eyes on him, fluttering your lashes as you took him into your warm mouth.

He groaned harshly. He was about to close his eyes, but you shook your head immediately.

“Eyes on me, please.”

“Oh, God,” he whimpered, looking down at you through heavy-lidded eyes as you eagerly sucked his leaking tip.

You swirled your tongue along the underside of his cock, his eyes rolling back every time you repeated the motion. When you finally pulled away, you spat on the tip, your fingers immediately spreading your saliva and his precum along the shaft, leaving him even wetter and messier.

“Does it feel good?” you asked before taking his tip into your mouth again, trying to take him deeper until his mushroom head brushed the back of your throat. The upward curve of his cock dragged against the roof of your mouth, drawing another whimper from him.

“Y-You look like a slut,” he blurted out through a moan, his jaw repeatedly tensing, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was fisting his shirt.

You looked up at him and nodded obediently...like a good girl seeking praise.

He bit his lower lip. “My pretty slut.”

Fr. Jeon was trying so hard not to come. He wanted to savor the feeling of your tight mouth around him for as long as possible, wanted to hold on to it, to prolong it, but you were simply too much..too pretty, too warm. Every time you took him deeper, his resolve weakened a little more.

Your eyes were already beginning to redden, your throat struggling to accommodate his thickness. Drool slipped messily down your chin, and the wet, obscene sounds coming from your mouth only pushed him closer to the edge. Each swallow, each desperate attempt to take more of him, made his chest tighten with pleasure, his restraint slipping further and further away.

Whenever you pulled back to catch your breath, you would stroke his cock quickly with your hands and spit messily onto his tip.

Before the saliva could slide down his length, you would take him back into your mouth, licking along his shaft and tracing the prominent veins with your tongue before returning to the swollen underside of his head with soft, teasing kitten licks.

Using your free hand, you reached up to cup his balls gently, applying just enough pressure to make him whimper. The movement only made it harder for him to hold himself together, especially as you continued gagging on his cock like a good little slut.

The moment you noticed him clutching his shirt again, you immediately grabbed his hand.

“Use my mouth, Father,” you whispered, guiding his hand to your hair, silently urging him to take control.

Fr. Jeon groaned and shook his head, but your eagerness never wavered. You paused, waiting patiently for him, your eyes fixed on his face.

The moment you placed your hands obediently behind your back, he nearly cursed the Lord himself.

He weakly dragged a hand through your hair, gathering it away from your face before pulling you a little closer. His jaw tightened as he looked down at you, every ounce of restraint tested by the sight of your quiet obedience.

Grabbing your hair with both hands, he guided your face toward him before finally rolling his hips, slowly thrusting into your waiting mouth.

“God, you really are a slut,” he moaned, his composure unraveling a little more with every passing second.

Whenever he pulled back, you would twirl your tongue around the underside of his crown, earning a shaky whimper from him. Then, he would push you down forcefully onto his cock, your nose hitting his pubic hair as he lost whatever restraint he had left.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, sweetheart,” he whimpered.

Your mouth was already growing tired, but you remained determined, refusing to pull away. Tears gathered in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks as you struggled to keep up with him, yet you stayed exactly where he wanted you.

When he saw the tears in your eyes, he almost stopped. 

But you eagerly took him deeper, deliberately pushing forward until your face was pressed flush against his pubic hair. Your mouth struggled to accommodate his thickness, soft gargling sounds escaping despite your efforts to suppress them, yet you took everything he gave you.

“God, fuck.” his eyes rolled back as he released hot, thick cum into your mouth.

He was about to push you away when your hands tightened around the backs of his thighs, holding him firmly in place...determined not to let a single drop of his cum go to waste.

“Sweetheart,” he said weakly.

When you finally pulled away- his cock slipping from your lips, you stuck out your tongue to show him his thick, milky cum. Your lashes fluttered as you held his gaze for a moment, letting him take in the sight before you swallowed.

Delirious.

“The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Fr. Jeon stood before the congregation, one hand resting lightly against the pulpit as he prepared to proclaim the gospel.

“A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew.”

“Glory to You, O Lord,” you whispered under your breath, your sparkling eyes lifted up toward him.

You were in your usual favorite spot—in the front row, like his favorite little church girl—your hair tied with a white ribbon, a long modest dress hiding the sinful image beneath.

Every time he spoke, his eyes never lingered on you. He looked over the crowd like a devoted priest, delivering his words slowly, with quiet passion. And whenever he did happen to find you in the congregation, he would only glance past you, as if you were anyone else.

You smirked inwardly. Who would’ve known that this same priest was literally begging on his knees to eat your pussy inside the church office?

When Holy Communion came, you made sure to open the first few buttons of your dress, revealing the rosary necklace you were wearing—the small cross resting between the plush curve of your cleavage.

“The Body of… Christ,” Fr. Jeon said slowly, his eyes drifting down to the rosary wrapped around your neck, the cross sitting dangerously above your breasts.

“Amen,” you said softly, parting your lips for him.

You almost smiled in quiet victory when you saw his jaw tighten—his composure slowly, subtly fracturing beneath the weight of your sacrilegious act.

When he placed the host on your tongue, you leaned in just slightly too far, letting your tongue brush against his thumb in a fleeting, deliberate touch. So small it could be denied. So intentional it could not be mistaken.

A soft hum escaped you as you pulled back, watching the shift in him—the way his body stilled, the way his breath caught. You were already turning away when his voice followed you, low and controlled.

“Meet me after this.”

You looked up at him, briefly thrown, but his gaze had already returned to the ritual at hand, as if nothing had happened.

Delight curled through you at the sight of him unraveling so carefully in public, holding himself together by force alone while you watched the cracks form in real time.

And when you returned to your seat, you could still feel it—the difference. His voice had deepened into something sharper, more distant. His posture stiffened as he finished the mass, each word now measured, restrained, as though he were forcing himself back into place one line at a time.

Wicked.

Sitting properly on the couch in his office, you waited patiently for Fr. Jeon. It was the first time you would see each other up close after mass, and the thought alone made a soft, bubbling excitement bloom in your chest.

You even brought a small box of cookies for him, carefully balanced in your lap, as if sweetness alone could disguise the anticipation curling beneath your ribs.

When the office door finally opened, you looked up at once and smiled.

He stood there still in his liturgical vestments. Over his white alb, he wore a flowing chasuble that draped heavily over his shoulders, embroidered gold catching the afternoon light that spilled through the glass windows like something almost sacred in itself. A white stole rested beneath it all, marking him clearly as the celebrant of the mass, a figure meant to be untouchable.

He looked absolutely breathtaking—so holy, so distant, so unreachable.

And yet, you already had him like a servant—willing, obedient, on his knees for you.

When he walked toward you, his expression was serious and unyielding. You stood up quickly, excitement lifting you, holding out your small gift for him.

“Good afternoon, Fr. Jeon. I got you cooki—”

The cookies slipped from your hands as he suddenly closed the distance, his hand wrapping around your throat. The rosary beads pressed sharply into your skin.

“I told you...that rosaries are not meant to be worn around your neck, didn’t I?” he said in a mocking tone, his voice low and controlled. His eyes looked darker behind his glasses.

His liturgical vestments suddenly felt overwhelming in this close space, no longer distant or ceremonial, but imposing, almost suffocating, as if you were only now realizing the weight of him in this proximity.

You gasped as his fingers tightened slightly around your throat, not enough to hurt—just enough to demand an answer.

“Y-You did, Father.”

“Mhm. I did,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Didn’t I?”

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the shift in him—how his composure had snapped so suddenly, as if the thin thread of his restraint, stretched in the presence of the Lord, had finally given way.

Dominance.

You gasped when he kissed you hard, cutting off your breath in an instant. His other hand bunched up the long skirts of your dress, hot palms slipping beneath the fabric to cup your warm pussy.

“You’re so impure,” he chuckled darkly, his fingers tracing over your clothed clit.

A soft moan escaped you as you tried to wriggle in his hold, but his grip at your throat kept you firmly in place.

“Sit on my desk and spread your legs,” he commanded, releasing you all at once—both your throat and your pussy.

With shaky legs, you moved toward his desk, climbing onto it and bunching your long skirt up around your waist before slowly spreading your legs wide for him.

Fr. Jeon walked toward you, his gaze fixed on the sight of you—so openly willing for him. The rosary cross rested between your breasts like a sin made visible, the white ribbons in your hair now looking almost tainted, your dress bunched up enough to expose your wet cunt to him.

His fingers closed around the rosary you were wearing. Your breath hitched as he slowly pulled it, forcing your neck to tilt forward with the motion.

“You’re such a whore, wearing this around me,” he said in a condescending tone, drawing you closer until he pressed a shallow kiss to your lips.

“I-Isn’t it pretty?” you asked weakly, still trying to tease him.

He let out a humorless chuckle. Without another word, he reached for the scripture on his desk. “I’ll show you what’s pretty.”

You gasped as he pulled the rosary again, forcing you forward while his other hand held the bible. “Open your mouth.”

Confused, you slowly obeyed, your eyes widening when he suddenly placed the book between your teeth.

“Hold still and bite the scripture,” he commanded sharply before spreading your legs wider.

You bit down hard on the book as he suddenly slapped your cunt.

“Mhmp!” you whimpered, eyes watering from the intensity of it.

Fr. Jeon raised a brow. He lifted his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, his gaze locked on you as he slowly dragged his tongue over them. You bit down harder on the book when he used his saliva-coated fingers to slap your cunt again.

“Shh, quiet, sweetheart… there are other people outside- praying,” he said mockingly, tugging lightly on the rosary around your neck.

You bit down harder when he slapped your cunt again, pulling harshly on the rosary around your neck whenever your whimpers escaped.

“Poor baby… you want me to finger you?” he cooed, slapping your cunt once more. Your panties were already soaked, your arousal building from the relentless stimulation.

You eagerly nodded, drool spilling past your lips and onto the scripture beneath you. Your neck was beginning to ache and swell each time he tugged on the beads.

“Do you deserve it?” he asked, twirling the rosary between his fingers, playing with it slowly.

A tear slipped down your cheek when he slapped your cunt again. Your thighs tried to wriggle on the table, but he only pulled harder on the rosary in response.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m finally going to give you what you want,” he said, letting go of you.

Your eyes almost rolled back when you saw him kneel.

You drooled messily against the book when he flipped your panties aside, three of his fingers immediately slipping inside you to stretch your cunt.

“So tight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your clit while his fingers continued to thrust inside you.

Each time his fingers pulled back, a fresh gush of wetness spilled out, revealing just how needy and aroused you were.

Looking down, you saw how godly he looked—kneeling so close to your pussy, lips parted as he watched his fingers disappear in and out of your tight hole.

“Mhmph,” you whimpered, his fingers knuckles deep inside you, brushing against your spongy spot and leaving you wriggly and tingly.

“You’re so soaked, sweetheart. It’s so hard to rub you properly like this… so, so wet.”

When he saw how restless you were getting, he suddenly removed his fingers. You were about to frown when he stood up, your eyes widening as he began removing his chasuble and slacks.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he taunted, finally revealing his hard cock.

It was already thick and hard, twitching on its own before he even touched it. Prominent veins pulsed along the girth, and his mushroom tip looked swollen and flushed. Using his fingers, he squeezed the plump head, drawing out more precum before spreading it along the shaft. He slowly rolled the foreskin down, his gaze fixed on your helpless body.

“Do you want this cock inside your tight little pussy?” he said breathily, jerking his hard cock in his hand…his eyes were heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted.

You nodded eagerly, tears spilling down your cheeks from anticipation. Your pussy pulsed hard, leaking more of your arousal down onto the table beneath you.

He chuckled, gripping both of your thighs and spreading them wider for him. “Hold your skirt up, sweetheart,” he murmured, as your long skirt kept drifting down while he positioned you.

With weak hands, you slowly bunched your skirt up. Your jaw was already aching from biting down on the book, but you were determined to be a good girl for him, biting down harder as your eyes turned red and your cheeks flushed, warm and swollen.

When he positioned his mushroom tip against your slit, you almost dropped the book. The feeling of his wet cock against your folds sent a sharp jolt through you.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your teeth nearly ached from how hard you bit down when he suddenly pushed inside you. Your tight walls immediately sucked him in. You watched his lips part in shock, his eyes rolling back for a moment—before he could even thrust, you felt him spilling inside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he cursed under his breath, trembling as he suddenly came so hard inside you, his lips parting at how good your pussy felt.

You were so warm and tight that he was already convulsing. His grip on your waist tightened so hard it was almost painful. You were shocked—you hadn’t expected him to cum that quickly, but then again, it had been so long since he’d done anything like this. The pent-up frustration was overwhelming, and the moment he felt you, he was already shaking.

When you saw him trembling, you slowly removed the book from your lips. Your jaw ached, but you still managed to give him a small, weak smile.

“Mhm, am I tight, Fr. Jeon?” you whispered weakly, feeling him twitch inside you, filling you with so much cum that it had you feeling completely full.

"T-Too tight." he groaned.

His arms were growing weaker, still trying to push his cum deeper and deeper into your cunt. His cock was already overstimulated and softening, but he still wanted his cum buried deep inside you, some of it already dripping down your thighs.

He groaned, pushing his cock deeper until he was finally hard again. You could feel his mushroom tip swell once more, your pussy stretching around his thickening girth.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at you. He had come so hard he had nearly forgotten about the book he made you bite down on, his rational thoughts slipping away completely, leaving only the heat and the feeling of you.

You bit your lip, opening your legs wider. “Yeah? Do you miss having such a warm pussy around your cock?”

His lips parted...his right hand returned to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat.

“What a dirty mouth you have,” he whispered breathily, like he was only just remembering why he was fucking you so hard in the first place.

He squeezed your throat, earning a loud whimper from you.

Before you could coo at him, he was already flipping you over, bending you against his desk. He immediately grabbed the book, shoving it forcefully into your mouth.

“You think I’m done, huh?” he taunted, kneeling down behind you.

You groaned, biting down on the scripture again, whimpering loudly when you felt him spreading your wet pussy from behind.

“Push my cum out for me,” he said, opening your folds and waiting for you to push it out.

You contracted your pussy, and a gush of his milky white cum spilled from your used hole. Before it could even drip onto the floor, his tongue was already there, scooping it up and swallowing everything until no trace was left.

When he stood up, you were left a trembling mess. Your eyes widened as he pulled on the rosary necklace, the beads wrapping around your throat like a collar. He used it as leverage before pushing his cock back inside you.

“Shh… bite down on the scripture. Let it silence your impurity,” he murmured behind you, thrusting deeper and harder until your body was nearly bouncing against the table from the force of it.

You wanted to moan so badly. The way his mushroom tip kept brushing against your g-spot felt so overwhelming. When he angled his hips in slow circular motions, your weak lips finally dropped the book, and you gasped as it hit the floor with a dull thud.

The moment he felt you slipping out of control, he stopped—only for you to immediately reach for the book. Before you could even grab it, he flipped you onto your back again.

“Fucking whore, can’t follow simple instructions while my cock’s deep inside you, huh?” he taunted, ripping the buttons of your dress just enough to expose your breasts.

“I-I’m sorry, I—”

You shrieked loudly when he suddenly slapped your nipples, the area turning immediately pink.

“Stay there,” he commanded.

You went still at once, your weak eyes following his movements as he reached into the bottom cabinet of his desk.

When he stood up again, he was holding a candle and a box of matches. “Hold this, sweetheart.”

He usually used those candles during scripture readings, letting the flame illuminate the pages.

You held it for him as instructed, watching as he struck a match and lit it, the small flame flickering to life before he set the match aside.

You turned slightly, glancing toward the window. There was still daylight outside—enough to see clearly. Before you could ask what he needed it for, he took the candle from your hand.

“Fr. Jeon, w-what are you—”

Your eyes widened when he tilted the candle downward, the wax threatening to drip onto your breasts. You gasped sharply when it finally landed on your nipple.

“Does it feel good?” he whispered, lowering the candle toward the other bud.

When the hot wax fell onto your other nipple, you moaned loudly, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as pain and pleasure collided.

It was hot and shocking—yet, for some reason, the sting felt addictive, almost intoxicating.

“Y-Yes, Father.” you bit your lower lip hard, watching as the candle was now directed toward your inner thighs.

He raised a brow, your nipples already covered in white wax. “Yeah? Does this get you wet?”

Before you could answer, he was already pouring hot wax onto your left inner thigh. The pain there was sharper, more intense—like the skin was far more delicate and sensitive. When you instinctively tried to close your legs, he held them open, spreading you wider as he moved the candle to drip more wax onto your right inner thigh.

“Oh, God,” you moaned loudly, the hot wax dripping dangerously close to your wet pussy.

You were already trembling. The mix of heat and pain felt overwhelming yet addictive, tears falling uncontrollably down your cheeks.

Fr. Jeon chuckled at you. “What a pretty little pain slut… I’m supposed to punish you with this, but you’re dripping like a whore.”

He grabbed your cheeks, raising the candle up toward your face. “Make a wish,” he whispered.

You looked up at him with weak eyes, your nipples and inner thighs still burning and oversensitive from the wax. With a faint, shaky smile, you told him your wish.

“Fuck me like a slut, Fr. Jeon." you said breathily.

He growled harshly, stepping back a little to admire his work on your body, how the wax was covering your skin like a sin, how your pussy was so swollen and red, yet your hole was still eagerly twitching to be used.

He tilted his head. “You want that, sweetheart?” he said sweetly, his tone contradicting what he had just done to you.

You nodded eagerly. "Please, use my body like a whore, cum inside me until I’m dripping full of your cum, abuse my tight little pussy until I’m all loose and gaping, release all your forbidden frustrations and destroy my dignity.” 

Fallen.

You couldn’t count the number of times you came around his cock that night—his cock thrusting so hard and deep inside you that you could feel how stretched your pussy was.

Every time you tried to fight him, he would push your body down onto the desk, threatening to silence you with scripture whenever you tried to break free from his hold.

When you thought he was done, he would maneuver your body again, spreading your legs wide so he could fuck you hard. His cross necklace would dangle in your face with every thrust. Whenever you moaned too loudly, he would punish you by dripping hot wax onto your inner thighs.

He would always condescendingly praise you, telling you what a poor little girl you were, letting him use you for his own sick pleasure.

"God, you'd let me use you whenever I want wouldn't you? Letting me fuck this tight pussy inside the church, like a good little christian." he would whisper.

It was so lewd when he asked you to touch yourself using the hand that wore his birthstone bracelet, urging you to part your lips for him, watching how the beads would brush over your clit every time you fucked your fingers inside your used, swollen hole.

"That's right...stretch your pussy, sweetheart. I want you nice and gaping when I fuck you again."

Then he would pull your body up, forcing you to bounce on his cock while pressing the beads deeper into your throat. He held both of your cheeks with his free hand so he could continually spit into your parted mouth, watching it drip messily down your chin like a cheap filthy whore. "I love how sinful and dirty you are...so perfect for me."

Capitulated.

You never forgot him, after that night he vanished like a wind.

When you heard that he had suddenly been appointed to another city, it felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet. Overnight, he was simply gone. The weekly sunday mass was no longer presided over by him, and no matter how many people you asked, nobody seemed to have a clear answer as to why.

All you heard were rumors.

Some said he wanted to experience ministry in a different city. Others claimed he had become so busy that he was constantly traveling between churches, handling responsibilities in several places at once. Every explanation sounded vague, rehearsed, and unsatisfying.

You wanted to believe them. But you couldn't.

For months, you carried that bitterness inside you. A part of you convinced yourself that he had simply left. That perhaps everything you shared had meant far less to him than it had to you. The thought hurt more than you cared to admit, especially because, between the two of you, you had been the dishonest one. You had been the one who approached him with hidden intentions, who slowly seduced him, who carefully led him into your snare while pretending to be an innocent church girl.

Yet somewhere along the way, things had changed.

For all your lies, for all your schemes and carefully crafted devotion, you couldn't deny what had happened to your own heart. You had fallen in love with his kindness. Not because he was a priest. Not because he was forbidden. Not because winning his attention felt like a challenge.

But because it was him.

It was the way he remembered small details about you. The way he listened whenever you spoke. The way he always treated people with patience and warmth. Somewhere between the scripture lessons, the afternoon conversations, and the countless boxes of cookies, your feelings had become real.

Then, one afternoon, a letter arrived.

Your hands trembled as you opened it, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and dread. As your eyes moved across the page, tears immediately gathered in them.

All this time, you had believed he left because he wanted to.

The truth was far worse.

Someone had noticed. Someone had seen the way he treated you differently from everyone else—the way his gaze lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened whenever he spoke to you, the way he always seemed to make time for you no matter how busy he was. And eventually, they had discovered what happened behind the closed doors of the church office.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you continued reading, your vision blurring with every line. For the first time since he disappeared, you finally understood why he had left.

The moment the parish discovered what had happened, he immediately apologized—to the church, to his superiors, and most of all, to the Lord. He had even offered his resignation, believing he was no longer worthy of his position.

But they refused. The parish forgave him.

They told him he was too kind, too devoted, too valuable to lose over a mistake. Instead of removing him from the priesthood, they gave him a chance to start over in a different city, far away from the rumors and whispers. They told him that what happened was a test of faith. A temptation. That God would always be stronger in his heart than any earthly attachment.

You were the temptation they spoke about.

You never wrote back, you never tried contacting him again. Because if he had truly wanted you, he would have resigned. He would have walked away from the collar, from the church, from the life he had chosen long before you entered it. 

He would have chosen you.

Instead, when forced to decide between you and God, he surrendered himself to God. And that answer was enough.

With a deep breath, you entered the confession booth. You wanted to confess your sins, you wanted to move on.

It had been two years, and somehow you were still holding on to him. 

Whenever Sana mentioned his name, your eyes would sting with unshed tears. Whenever you heard stories about him…how successful he had become, how respected he was as a priest now…an ache would settle deep inside your chest.

You could no longer step inside a church without thinking about him.

The stained-glass windows, the scent of incense, the quiet hum of prayer before mass. Every sacred thing had become tangled with the memory of him, until devotion and desire were no longer things you could separate.

So, with a heavy heart, you finally decided to let him go.

Sitting inside the confessional that afternoon, your fingers twisted nervously in your lap as you gathered the courage to speak.

A thin wooden partition stood between you, a barrier meant to separate priest from sinner, confession from judgment, devotion from temptation.

“Bless me, Father…. for I have sinned.” you said softly, behind the confession grille.

Your voice…soft and unforgettable, echoed through the small confessional booth. 

The familiar scent of vanilla wrapped around him like a memory he had spent years trying to forget. 

“Sweetheart.” 

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[cherricherryy]

I hate how intense my brain is when it comes to brainstorming or creating stories😩 like why can’t my brain work like that when im actually writing the fic so annoying !!!

I have another idea …. again!

I was watching perfect crown and hear me out,, what if prince!jungkook x widowed sister in law!oc👀 like i didnt really hate her in the drama cuz it was so obvious that she was js jealous of iu’s character (i forgot the name) girl was in love him. AND the prince name is also ian !!!!!!

All i could think abt was jk in the netflix concert promo pics every time i saw the prince wearing suits w deep v neckline.

(pic from pinterest)

[voyter]

i need jungkook x reader love island aus on the table by 9:00 PM PDT TOMORROW with lots of drama flirting a bit of angst and sex in a room full of other islanders or i might have to make my drabble debut immediately Please speed i need this

[cherricherryy]

Ok so i found smtg similar to the singles inferno au i was on abt !!!!!

@voyter is an amazing writer, i js know she cooked

[cherricherryy]

it’s been on my mind for a while. Hear me out: jungkook singles inferno au. After i watched the latest season and i really liked subeen and heesun, they started off angsty but they ended up being the cutest couple in the show. I so want to write the angsty est angst w smutest smut but i already started a series😩 idw be a quitter

Summoning all my jk fic writers. please if u want to write this au lmk.

[lackadaisies]

this is killing me 😭

[cherricherryy]

Me rereading the same 4k words i wrote and forgetting the exact word but knowing how to use it, googling weird shit cuz sometimes block makes me feel like i have a vocabulary of a 5 yr old