Diary of Julia

Now my life is sweet like cinnamon

[dailydoseoflhs]

Welcome to my world!

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𓂃⋆.˚ Julia. She/They. Twenty + Filo.

𓂃⋆.˚ More

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© All rights reserved. Every work published in this blog belongs to dailydoseoflhs. Avoid reposting and plagiarising the work. Ask for permission when translating the work.

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸

𓄲 In order to make ends meet you pick up a side job as the nanny of a brooding, cold perfectionist by the name of Jeon Jungkook — while in the process of doing so, you might've ended up twisting the narrative about your education just a little. Watching over a few children couldn't be too hard, right? Only Jungkook is very peculiar about how he wants things done — strict routines, meal plans and tedious study hours that make the Jeon estate feel more like a military camp than a home — and it's only a matter of time until cracks in the seemingly perfect facade begin to form.

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) jungook keeps secrets & so does reader

⧽ word count ⋮ 175.6k+ and counting total reading time ⋮ 14 hours and 25 minutes

Help Wanted receives updates every week, usually around 4-6 days apart <3

[ Pinterest Board] ╱ [ Timezones For Updates ] ╱ [ Read Help Wanted On Wattpad ] ╱ [ Help Wanted Spotify Playlist ] ╱ [ Read Help Wanted on Ao3 ]

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗫

chapter 01 "daddy doesn't sleep in there anymore" [5.7k] reading time ⋮ 30 minutes

chapter 02 "your clothes are dirty" [5.5k] reading time ⋮ 30 minutes

chapter 03 "could you stay?" [7.3k] reading time ⋮ 40 minutes

chapter 04 "when mom was here" [6k] reading time ⋮ 30 minutes

chapter 05 "are there some messes that can't be fixed?" [5.2k] reading time ⋮ 25 minutes

chapter 06 "hide and seek" [8.3k] reading time ⋮ 45 minutes

chapter 07 "pancakes for lunch and empty fridges" [6.8k] reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

chapter 08 "I didn't know you wore glasses" [6.2k] reading time ⋮ 30 minutes

chapter 09 "dirty dancing" [5.9k] reading time ⋮ 30 minutes

chapter 10 "whiskey tears" [7k] reading time ⋮ 40 minutes

chapter 11 "checkmate" [6.1k] reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

chapter 12 "guilty as sin" [6.4k] reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

chapter 13 "the truth" [5.8k] reading time ⋮ 30 minutes

chapter 14 "you should be careful with that" [6.7k] reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

chapter 15 "crumbling resolve" [11.4k] reading time ⋮ 1 hour

chapter 16 "tainted skin" [6.3k] reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

chapter 17 "daddy-daughter dance" [5.9k] reading time ⋮ 30 minutes

chapter 18 "Birthday Girl" [6.8k] reading time ⋮ 35 minutes

chapter 19 "Dancing Queen" [9.7k] reading time ⋮ 55 minutes

chapter 20 "Be Quiet" [11.5k] reading time ⋮ 1 hour

chapter 21 "Heartbeat" [9k] reading time ⋮ 45 minutes

chapter 22 "The Day Before" [10k] reading time ⋮ 50 minutes

chapter 23 "Give and Take" [7.3k] reading time ⋮ 40 minutes

chapter 24 "Twig Snap" [8.3k]

chapter 25 . . .

more chapters to be added <3

The taglist for Help Wanted is CLOSED.

[jkwrites-m]

The Wrong Sister

Pairing: prince!Jungkook x princess!female reader

Genre: angst, smut, royalty au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 14.8k

Summary: She was never his choice- until she became his world.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, angst, smut, royalty au, slow burn?, power struggle, age gap (10 yrs), older jungkook, arranged marriage, (somewhat) enemies to lovers, jealousy, jungkook is a meanie 🙁, possessiveness, hurt/comfort, politics, soft love, declarations, explicit: multiple smut scenes, consensual, unprotected sex, cold/obligatory sex, power play, loving sex, praise, degradation, oral (f. receiving), fingering, clit play, overstimulation

A/N: this was a request from a lovely anon 🫶 friends, i redid the outline for this multiple times bc i normally shy away from fantasies/royalty, so it was cool to try it out! hopefully it lives up to expectations!! (also i rlly don’t know what time period this is so just imagine wtv 🫩)

Note: jungkook’s pov is noted. if it isn’t- it’s y/n’s! also y/n is 21, jungkook is 31, jisoo is 26

LINK TO REQUEST ♡ MASTERLIST ♡ a03

═══════

The mirror stares back at you like it’s trying to convince you of something.

That you’re beautiful. That you’re lucky. That this is what you’ve always wanted.

But the mirror lies.

You’re dressed in layers of ivory lace and silk so heavy it feels like armor. Gold threads snake across your bodice like vines, binding you into a shape you barely recognize. Somewhere behind you, handmaidens fuss with ribbons and brocade, cooing soft words you don’t hear. Your reflection looks poised- majestic, even.

But you feel like you’re drowning beneath the weight of expectation.

Your chest tightens. Not from nerves. No, you’d welcome nerves. This is worse. This is suffocation. The perfume in the room is too sweet. The silence, too loud. Every delicate “Princess” that slips from a servant’s tongue hits like a blade.

You’re getting married today.

To a man you’ve barely spoken to.

A man who’s ten years older.

A prince from a kingdom that needed a treaty more than a love story.

You catch your own gaze in the mirror again. Your lips are painted, your hair perfectly pinned, your veil stitched with symbols older than your name. You look like a queen-in-the-making.

But inside?

You’re unraveling.

“Too tight,” you say sharply, not looking at the handmaiden tying your corset.

She freezes. “Apologies, Your Highness…”

You stand abruptly, fingers tugging the laces yourself until the pressure eases from your ribs.

“Leave,” you murmur.

They hesitate.

“I said leave.”

Their skirts whisper across the marble floor as they vanish, one by one, until the room is yours again. Quiet. Empty. Suffocating.

You exhale shakily and lower yourself onto the velvet stool near the fire. You should feel like a bride. Instead, you feel like a pawn being moved across a glittering board.

A knock at the door makes your spine go rigid.

“Come in,” you say, voice tighter than you’d like.

The door creaks open. And there she is.

Jisoo.

Your older sister. Your kingdom’s golden girl.

She steps inside delicately, wrapped in blush silk with her hair softly swept up, eyes wide with sympathy you don’t want. She’s everything gentle and graceful the court adores. She looks like spring in human form.

And she looks like someone’s first choice.

“Soo,” you say, your tone unsure- too many emotions knotted in one syllable.

She smiles. Soft. Almost apologetic. “You look… stunning.”

You blink at her. “Why weren’t you here earlier?”

“I thought you’d want to be alone.”

“I didn’t,” you admit. “Not today.”

She hesitates a step from you. Her fingers curl into each other.

You feel the question bubbling before you can stop it. “Does he love you?”

The words spill out like poison.

Jisoo’s expression flickers- guilt, shock, something unreadable but she catches it before it fully forms. “Y/N…”

“You don’t have to lie,” you whisper. “Not today.”

“I never encouraged it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You must’ve known.” Your voice cracks just slightly. “He looks at you like you’re the crown he lost.”

Jisoo swallows, her voice quiet. “He’s marrying you.”

You stare into the fire, the flickering light licking at your gown like flame to paper. “But he wanted you.”

She doesn’t answer. And her silence says more than a confession ever could.

You don’t blame her. Not really. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Maybe you should be the one marrying him,” you say, not able to meet her eyes.

“I would never take this from you,” she breathes.

You turn to face her finally. “Would it really be stealing if I was just keeping your seat warm?”

The air between you thickens. You’re not angry at her. Not really. You’re angry at fate. At politics. At the cold man waiting at the altar who wants a different bride.

Jisoo takes a step closer. “You’re stronger than you think.”

“No, I’m just better at pretending.”

She reaches out to touch your shoulder. You don’t pull away, but you don’t lean in either.

“He’ll learn to love you,” she says gently. “Anyone would.”

You let out a dry laugh, sharp as glass. “You don’t learn to love someone like me. You endure her.”

The bell tolls outside- three slow, echoing chimes that stretch across the walls like the opening notes of a funeral dirge.

It’s time.

You rise. Your gown shifts like water. You steady your shoulders, straighten your crown. You feel her watching you, but you can’t look at her again.

Because you are walking down the aisle

Not as the girl he dreamed of. Not as the sister he wanted. But as the bride he’s stuck with.

The chapel smells like ancient roses and old prayers.

You glide down the aisle slowly, deliberately, as the eyes of two kingdoms drink you in. The train of your gown trails behind you like spilled moonlight. Hundreds of royals, nobles, and dignitaries line the carved pews, all dressed in silks and golds, but none of them matter. You feel them watching, judging, whispering about your age, your family, your worth.

But you only look forward.

You keep your eyes on the altar where Prince Jeon Jungkook stands like he’s carved from ice.

He doesn’t smile.

Not even a flicker of warmth touches his face when he sees you. His expression remains cold, impassive, lips a straight line, shoulders square. You wonder if he even sees you or if he’s just counting the seconds until this political obligation is complete.

The music swells. The world fades.

You reach him.

He doesn’t offer his hand.

The High Cleric begins the ceremony with blessings in a language older than either of your kingdoms. You barely hear the words. Your fingers are trembling in your gloves. You feel like you’re underwater. Everything is soft and distant and slow.

Until it’s time for the vows.

You turn to face him. And his eyes aren’t on you.

They’re on her.

You see it. Just for a second. A flicker. A heartbeat. But it’s real.

His gaze shifts- barely, subtly- but you know the direction. You don’t even have to look.

Jisoo.

She’s seated near the front. Pale dress. Downcast eyes. Perfect posture. As still and serene as a statue. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t acknowledge it.

But you feel it. All of it.

The phantom of his feelings for her settles like a chill between your ribs.

“Repeat after me,” the Cleric intones, unaware of the slow fracture blooming in your chest.

You say the words.

You pledge your body, your name, your crown.

You do not cry.

He says the words, too. Calm. Flat. Emotionless. He binds himself to you in front of gods and ghosts, but his voice doesn’t tremble. Not from nerves. Not from affection.

Because he feels nothing.

He lifts your veil. His hands are steady. Distant.

Your first kiss as husband and wife is just that- a formality. His lips brush yours like the passing of winter wind. No passion. No warmth. No curiosity.

The crowd erupts into applause.

You smile.

You have to.

He offers you his arm.

You take it.

You walk down the aisle together, shoulder to shoulder but not touching, as cheers rain down from the golden arches of the chapel.

You smile.

You have to.

And though you can feel him beside you… 

he says nothing.

═══════

The ballroom gleams with gold and artifice.

You’re standing in the center of it, hand in hand with a man who hasn’t spoken a word to you all day. Not during the procession. Not during the ceremony. Not after the kiss. Not when he escorted you down the aisle like he was walking beside a shadow.

And now, in front of hundreds of watching eyes, it’s time for the first dance.

The music begins. You take one step forward, and so does he.

His gloved hand rests against your waist like he’s afraid to touch you too firmly- as if contact might imply something that isn’t there. His other hand holds yours, just tight enough to be respectful, just distant enough to make your stomach sink.

You lift your eyes to his.

And for the first time, he speaks, “You should smile.”

Your breath catches.

“That’s what they’re expecting,” he continues, voice low, precise. “A happy bride. A glowing princess.”

You try to smile, but it curls wrong on your lips.

“And you?” you murmur, eyes still fixed on his. “Are you pretending too?”

His grip tightens ever so slightly. “I’m fulfilling a role.”

You laugh- soft, bitter. “And what role is that? Dutiful husband or heartless executioner?”

He doesn’t answer.

You move together across the marble floor like strangers trapped in the same song. The music is beautiful, swelling in delicate arcs around you. But you can’t feel any of it.

“What did I do to make you hate this so much?” you whisper.

He blinks, slowly. “I don’t hate you.”

“No?” you scoff. “Then why won’t you look at me the way you looked at her?”

The words are out before you can stop them. His jaw clenches.

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“She’s already in it,” you breathe. “You put her there when you looked at her during our vows.”

The music swells again, a waltz that sounds too pretty for this kind of pain.

“I don’t want to embarrass you,” he says finally, voice tight.

You force a smile- sharp, graceful, empty. “Too late.”

He turns you in a slow spin, elegant, effortless. From a distance, the court sees perfection. A prince and his new bride, radiant under the candlelight.

But you know better.

You feel the space between your bodies like a scar that hasn’t healed yet.

“Do you love her?” you ask, quiet enough for only him to hear.

He doesn’t answer.

His silence slices deeper than any truth could.

You feel your chest tighten, throat burning. But your face? Your face stays royal. Untouched. Serene.

“Will I ever be more than her shadow to you?”

You see something flicker in his gaze, but it’s gone as fast as it comes.

“You were not the choice,” he says at last.

You blink. You stop moving for half a second. Your shoes nearly slip on the polished floor. The world tilts.

But then the music carries on.

So you do too.

He guides you back into motion, and you match him- fluid, poised, empty.

When the music ends, he steps back. Bows. You curtsy.

Applause erupts across the hall. And you smile so wide it almost cracks your face open.

═══════

The halls are empty when you’re escorted to the royal bedchamber.

No music now. No guests. No watching eyes. Just the sound of your heels against marble and your pulse humming beneath your skin.

The doors are already open.

He’s already inside.

You step in carefully, unsure of what you’ll find. The room is as grand as you imagined- pillars of carved obsidian, embroidered silks draped from the high ceiling, a fire crackling in the hearth like it’s mocking you with its warmth. A table is set with untouched wine. Rose petals litter the floor like someone believed romance could be faked.

He stands by the window, facing away from you. Still dressed in full ceremonial regalia. Still silent.

The doors shut behind you with a hollow thud.

You wait.

You don’t know what you’re waiting for. Instructions? Affection? A beginning?

Instead, you get nothing.

You unclasp your cloak. It falls silently around your feet. Your hair is pinned and tight, your corset aching against your ribs. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to be held.

But he still won’t look at you.

“It’s done,” you say quietly, just to break the silence.

He hums in acknowledgment. Doesn’t turn.

You take a step forward, cautious. “Is there something you’d like me to do?”

At last, he speaks. “Sleep. That’s all.”

That’s all.

The words hang heavy in the air.

You try not to show it, but your fingers curl against your side. “Isn’t this… expected?”

“I don’t owe them a performance.”

“And me?” you ask.

He turns to face you now, slowly. His expression unreadable. Cold. He looks at you like a decision he regrets making. Like a formality he’s been assigned.

“You don’t want this,” he says.

You flinch at the assumption. “You don’t know what I want.”

“You want love. Passion. Devotion.” He crosses his arms. “I’m not the man who gives those things.”

“No,” you say, stepping closer, “you’re the man who gives silence. Distance. Glances meant for someone else.”

His jaw ticks.

You keep going. You’re tired of swallowing pain. “You said your vows. You kissed me. You danced with me. And not once did you pretend I was enough.”

“I told you I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Oh, so this is honesty?” you snap. “This- coldness. This rejection. This… emptiness?”

He sighs. Runs a hand through his hair. His voice is quieter now. “It’s mercy.”

You shake your head. “It’s cruelty.”

Neither of you speak for a long moment.

You break the silence again. “Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t want to be just some treaty girl, either? That I didn’t want to marry a man in love with someone else?”

His face flickers. Just briefly.

You don’t know what emotion it is. Pity? Guilt? Regret?

But it fades too quickly to hold onto.

“You can sleep in here if you want,” he says, voice controlled again. “Or I’ll have a separate room prepared.”

You take a deep breath, walk past him toward the bed. You don’t look at him. Not this time.

“I’ll stay here,” you say softly. “Not because I want you. But because this is my marriage, too.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, spine straight, heart hollow. And he walks away without another word.

The doors close.

You are alone.

Again.

You unlace your corset with trembling fingers. You slide the jewelry off your skin like it’s shackles. You curl beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling that feels more like sky than stone.

And for the first time since the ceremony began, you let the tears fall. No one hears them. No one sees. And when morning comes, you will wear the crown like it never hurt.

═══════

The palace is dead quiet after midnight.

You lie still in the enormous bed, staring up at the carved ceiling, your body wrapped in satin, your heart wrapped in stone.

Jungkook came back hours ago.

He didn’t speak when he entered.

He didn’t speak when he undressed, carefully, methodically, folding his ceremonial uniform with military precision and draping a robe over his bare chest. He didn’t speak when he climbed into the opposite side of the bed, a world away from your side.

He just turned his back to you.

And that was that.

You listened to his breathing even out. Watched the fire in the hearth dim into embers. Let the weight of the sheets press your body down like a crown too heavy to wear.

Sleep never came.

The silence around you was too loud.

You watched the moonlight crawl across the walls until your eyes ached. You imagined what it might’ve felt like to be chosen. To be wanted. To be seen.

You almost didn’t hear it.

A whisper. Barely there.

You blink, breath catching, your body frozen as stone.

Then again- soft. Muffled. Threaded with sleep.

“…Jisoo…”

Your heart stops.

The name barely drips from his mouth- half breath, half confession- but it’s real. It slithers through the shadows between you like smoke.

“…Jisoo…”

He shifts in the bed beside you, still deep in dreams.

And you?

You’re wide awake.

The ache in your chest is immediate and consuming. Sharp enough to make your eyes water, soft enough to break you slowly. You don’t speak. Don’t move.

You lie there, paralyzed. Because how can you scream when the knife was never even meant for you?

It was a whisper. A sleep-talk. A mistake.

But it was her name. Not yours.

Not once tonight- not in his gaze, not in his vows, not in his arms- did you belong to him. But her? She owns the quietest part of him. The part he doesn’t even guard.

You turn your head toward him slowly. His face is peaceful in sleep. Untroubled. Like he hasn’t just carved you open.

You stare at him for a long time.

And for the first time since this all began, you don’t feel sad. You feel cold.

Numb. Resolved.

You pull the covers tighter around you- not for warmth, but for armor.

He may have married you.

But he dreams of her.

And if he thinks you’ll stay quiet forever, if he thinks you’ll simply live in her shadow…

He doesn’t know you at all.

═══════

The first week of marriage does not belong to you.

It belongs to the court.

Every morning begins with a maid waking you before the sun, layering you in gowns chosen by someone else, and fitting a crown so heavy you can feel it in your spine. Every day ends with aching cheeks from holding the same smile for hours.

They don’t call you by name anymore.

You’re Her Royal Highness, Princess Consort of the Northern Kingdom.

A title. Not a person.

The palace calendar is full- parades, charity luncheons, handshakes with foreign diplomats, appearances at schools, hospitals, markets. At each stop, you are arranged like part of the decor. A jeweled accessory for the prince’s arm.

He almost never offers it.

When he does, it’s for the benefit of the crowd. An elbow bent at a perfect angle, a smile carved into place like it was taught, not felt. He’s a master of performance.

So are you.

The people cheer for the image of you both. They throw flower petals into the street, shout blessings, push forward to glimpse their fairytale couple.

If only they knew fairytales rot when the gold is only paint.

At the textile factory, you stand beside him while the foreman gushes about the kingdom’s prosperity. At the ribbon-cutting for a new bridge, you’re handed the scissors, smiling for the press while Jungkook stares past you at some distant point, as though the moment doesn’t require him.

Sometimes, you catch yourself wondering if he forgets you’re even there.

You’ve learned the choreography. Sit still. Smile faintly. Look engaged, but not outspoken. Be regal, but not commanding. Be graceful, but not bold.

Be there.

But never be.

The only time you feel remotely human is during the carriage rides between engagements, when the curtains are drawn, and the crowds can’t see you.

That’s when the silence between you becomes unbearable. He doesn’t speak.

You don’t either.

But you glance at him once, catching his profile in the dim light. It’s like looking at a portrait- beautiful, distant, untouchable. You turn away before he can feel you watching.

By the end of the week, you’ve perfected the role:

A crown without a voice.

═══════

It happens because it has to.

Not because he wants you. Not because you want him. But because it’s expected. Because the kingdom will talk if it doesn’t.

The door opens without a knock. You glance up from your seat on the edge of the bed, silk robe tied loosely around your waist, hair falling over your shoulders. He steps inside, closing the door with quiet finality.

“We need to talk,” you say.

“Not tonight.” His voice is low, clipped, as he shrugs out of his coat. “This isn’t a conversation.”

Your brow furrows. “Then what is it?”

He looks at you but it’s the way a jeweler inspects a gem before deciding if it’s worth setting. “It’s what’s required,” he says. “For the line. For the crown.”

Your chest tightens. You know the court’s whispers- how the marriage will be scrutinized until you produce an heir. You know the timeline they expect. You’d expected distance. You hadn’t expected to feel like an appointment.

He approaches slowly, rolling his cuffs to his forearms. When he stops in front of you, he doesn’t touch you right away- just stands there until the air between you grows heavy.

When he stops in front of you, he looks down at you with the same expression he wears in court- measured, guarded, cold.

“Stand up,” he says.

The command leaves no room for hesitation. You rise.

His hands land on your waist, not with affection but with control, guiding you closer. His mouth meets yours in a kiss that isn’t really a kiss- no give, no hunger, no softness. You press harder anyway, trying to spark something. He responds by gripping your jaw, holding you still.

“You’re trying too hard,” he murmurs.

“At least I’m trying,” you bite back.

A slow, humorless smile curves his lips. “Careful.”

He turns you with deliberate force until your knees meet the bed. You sit. He follows, untying your robe in one smooth pull. It falls to your sides, cool air grazing bare skin.

His gaze sweeps over you- assessing, not admiring. “Beautiful,” he says, tone flat. “But beauty doesn’t make you powerful.”

You swallow. “Then what does?”

His eyes lift to yours, sharp as steel. “Control. And you don’t have any here.”

The word sends a shiver down your spine- half fear, half something you don’t want to name.

He presses you back into the mattress with a firm hand to your shoulder, sliding the robe from your arms. His touch is skilled, confident, but there’s no tenderness. Every movement feels deliberate- designed to take without giving.

You arch into him once, testing him. His palm flattens against your sternum, holding you down.

“Do you think I’ll lose myself for you?” he asks softly, mockingly. “You can’t provoke me into wanting you.”

The words burn hotter than his hands.

When he finally takes you, it’s with the same efficiency as everything else he does- controlled, unhurried, purposeful. The sounds in the room are soft but sharp: the creak of the bed, your shallow breaths, the low rumble of his voice telling you to hold still.

His grip on your hips is firm, guiding you exactly how he wants. You try to match his rhythm, to pull him closer. He shifts his hold, pinning your wrists above your head against the mattress.

“Not yours to lead,” he says. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

It’s almost clinical. Almost mechanical. Your body reacts anyway- heat, breathlessness, the helpless ache for more. But you know he’s watching every flicker of your expression like a general studying an opponent’s next move.

When it’s over, he pulls away immediately. No lingering touch. No kiss. Just rises, adjusting his clothes with the same precision he undid them.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks at you one last time. “This is duty, Princess. Don’t confuse it with anything else.”

And then he’s gone.

The door shuts behind him.

You stay there, robe open, pulse still racing- not from closeness, but from the sting of his words.

═══════

The council chamber smells faintly of parchment, polished wood, and the faint metallic tang of ambition.

You sit in the gilded chair to Jungkook’s right, posture flawless, hands folded in your lap. It’s your first time attending a full royal council since the wedding. You’re here to listen. To be silent. To play the part of the well-bred consort.

At least, that’s what they expect.

The chamber doors close, and the discussion begins. Ministers rise, presenting their concerns: border tensions with the Western Kingdom, grain shortages in the southern provinces, a brewing dispute with the merchant guilds.

Your husband listens with that same infuriating calm, speaking only when necessary, voice even, deliberate. A king in training.

But when the Minister of Trade suggests raising tariffs on imported grain to “incentivize” local production, something twists in your chest.

“That would starve half the southern provinces,” you say, before you can stop yourself.

Every head in the room turns.

Jungkook’s gaze cuts to you. Sharp. Warning.

The Minister blinks, surprised. “Your Highness, the measure-”

“-would drive up prices so high,” you continue, “that families already struggling would have to choose between bread and rent. And if the people are hungry, unrest follows. That is not ‘incentive,’ Minister. That is negligence.”

Murmurs ripple through the chamber.

Jungkook’s voice is quiet but firm. “Princess-”

You turn your head slowly, meeting his eyes. “Am I mistaken?”

A pause. His jaw tightens.

“You are… uninformed,” he says at last.

You lean forward, resting your hands on the table. “Then perhaps inform me. Tell me how destabilizing our food supply will help secure your rule. Or ours.”

A faint gasp from one of the scribes. A few ministers look away, hiding smirks. The Minister of Trade fidgets.

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change, but you see the flicker in his eyes- anger, yes, but something else. Curiosity.

You look back at the table. “Instead of tariffs, subsidize local farmers to increase production. Buy excess grain directly from them at fair prices, then sell it cheaply in the provinces that need it most. The treasury loses nothing if the surplus is sold abroad. Everyone wins. The farmers, the provinces, the crown.”

The room goes still.

Then, slowly, the Minister of Agriculture nods. “It’s… a sound plan.”

More murmurs. Agreement.

Jungkook leans back in his chair, studying you like he’s seeing you for the first time. You can feel his gaze on your skin, hot and assessing.

“Very well,” he says finally. “We’ll consider the Princess’s… suggestion.”

It’s not an admission. Not in his tone.

But you’ve already won.

When the meeting ends, you rise before he does, smoothing your skirts. As you pass his chair, you feel his hand catch your wrist under the table.

You glance down at him.

His voice is low, for you alone. “We will discuss this later.”

You smile sweetly. “Of course, Your Highness.”

And you leave the chamber with your head high, the echo of your heels a victory drumbeat in the quiet hall. Yet, the moment the council doors close behind you, you know he’s following.

Your heels click against the marble corridor, echoing between the towering pillars. You don’t turn around, but you can feel him gaining on you- steady, purposeful, silent.

You make it halfway to your chambers before his hand closes around your wrist.

He pulls you into a side room- an antechamber lined with bookshelves and an unused writing desk- and shuts the door hard enough to rattle the hinges.

The air changes instantly.

He steps closer. Not close enough to touch, but enough that you can feel the weight of him, the way his presence seems to draw the oxygen from the room.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he says, voice low, razor-edged.

You arch a brow. “Speak?”

“Undermine me in front of my council.” His gaze is molten steel, locked on yours. “You embarrassed me.”

You take a deliberate step forward, closing some of the space between you. “I saved you from making a decision that would’ve turned half your kingdom against you.”

His jaw flexes. “That’s not your place.”

“And sitting there like a decorative vase is?” Your voice is calm, but each word lands sharp.

He moves closer, forcing you to back up until the edge of the desk presses against the back of your thighs. His hands plant on either side of you, caging you in without touching. “You don’t understand how dangerous it is to overstep in that room.”

You tilt your chin up. “I understand perfectly. They’ll eat you alive if they think you’re weak. And nothing says weakness like a wife too afraid to speak her mind.”

His eyes narrow. “You think you’re clever.”

“I know I am.”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing. His gaze drops briefly- not to your mouth, but to the stubborn lift of your chin- then returns to your eyes.

“You enjoy provoking me,” he says quietly.

“Only when you deserve it.”

One corner of his mouth twitches- not quite a smile, not quite a snarl. “Careful, Princess. If you make a habit of this, you might find I have… inventive ways of teaching obedience.”

You lean just slightly into the space between you, your voice a whisper. “And if you keep underestimating me, you might find I have inventive ways of winning.”

The tension between you is almost unbearable- not heat, not tenderness, just raw defiance meeting raw authority.

Finally, he pushes back, giving you space. “You’re not stupid,” he says. “But you are mine to manage.”

You smooth your skirts, stepping past him toward the door. “If you think I’ll be managed, Your Highness… you really haven’t been paying attention.”

You don’t wait for him to follow.

═══════

5 years earlier (jungkook’s pov): 

The gala had been suffocating.

Perfume and politics choked the air inside the ballroom. Every step, every word, every glance felt calculated. The music was loud enough to cover whispers but not loud enough to drown them out.

Jungkook slipped through a side door.

The night air hit him like a blessing- cool, crisp, tinged with the scent of rain. He loosened his collar and exhaled, letting the weight of the crown’s expectations roll off his shoulders, if only for a breath.

That’s when he saw her.

Jisoo.

She was standing at the edge of the balcony, moonlight touching the soft curve of her cheek. A pale silk gown flowed around her like water. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her lips moving faintly as she hummed something he didn’t recognize.

She turned when she heard him.

“Oh- Your Highness,” she said, voice light, careful. She curtsied, the movement graceful, unhurried. “I didn’t realize anyone else would be out here.”

“I needed air,” he admitted.

Her smile was small but knowing. “So did I.”

They stood there for a moment, the muffled music from the ballroom spilling through the open doors. He should have gone back inside. Instead, he found himself asking, “Do you come to many of these events?”

“More than I’d like.” Her gaze drifted toward the gardens below. “But my father says it’s important to be seen.”

The words were simple. Obvious, even. But the way she said them- steady, resigned, without bitterness-  struck him. She wasn’t like the others inside, scrambling for attention or advantage.

“I suppose he’s right,” he said.

She looked at him then, really looked, and for a second, he thought she might see past the prince to the man beneath. “You wear the pressure well.”

The compliment shouldn’t have mattered. It was the kind of thing royals said to each other all the time. But there was no jest in her tone, no false sweetness. It felt… clean.

Someone called her name from inside- a soft summons from a lady-in-waiting.

She dipped her head. “I should go.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Jungkook stayed on that balcony long after, the faint sound of her humming still in his ears.

It had been nothing- a polite exchange in the quiet. But in a life where every word was a weapon, her simplicity had felt like a shield.

Years later, he still told himself she was different.

He never noticed that he didn’t know a single thing more about her.

═══════

Two months change nothing… and everything.

The last time you and Jungkook stood together in the council chamber, you defied him in front of his ministers. He hasn’t forgotten. Neither have you.

The winter gala is your first appearance together since then.

The ballroom glitters under crystal chandeliers, every corner alive with silks, jewels, and the low hum of politics disguised as conversation. Gold light spills across polished marble, and the air is warm with the scent of champagne and candle wax.

You’ve chosen your gown carefully.

Silk the color of deep wine, cut low enough at the back to reveal the elegant dip of your spine, the fabric clinging to your curves before spilling loose in a daring slit high on your thigh. By court standards, it’s scandalous. By yours, it’s perfect.

You don’t tell Jungkook you’ve done it for him.

You tell yourself it’s for you.

The heads turn as soon as you enter on his arm. Ministers pause mid-sentence. Noblewomen whisper behind jeweled fans. Men look longer than they should. You feel the power in it- the way the room bends toward you.

Jungkook’s grip on your arm is tight enough to bruise.

“Enjoying yourself already?” you murmur, eyes fixed forward.

“You think this is clever?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Every man here staring at what’s mine?”

“Every man here staring at their future queen,” you correct softly.

He doesn’t reply, but you feel the tension radiating off him.

And then you see her.

Jisoo.

She stands near the far end of the room, surrounded by a small cluster of dignitaries. She’s dressed in soft silver, hair pinned in perfect curls, a picture of refined restraint. The kind of elegance that draws admiration without scandal.

She sees you. She smiles- polite, warm, and just a little too knowing. You smile back, the kind that could be taken for friendliness or challenge.

You make your rounds, greeting nobles, shaking hands, accepting compliments that dance on the edge of impropriety. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you even when he’s not beside you- especially when you laugh at another man’s joke, your fingers brushing his sleeve as you speak.

When you finally return to Jungkook’s side, his jaw is tight.

“Careful, Princess,” he says under his breath. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You sip your champagne, unbothered. “So are you.”

The orchestra swells, the floor clears for the next dance. He offers his hand, not out of romance, but because tradition demands it.

You place your hand in his and let him lead you into the spotlight.

Around you, the court watches. Some curious, some envious, some waiting for one of you to slip.

Under the chandeliers, his hand rests low on your back, almost possessive.

You wonder if he’s imagining Jisoo in your place. You wonder if it’s killing him that he can’t look away from you.

═══════

The ride back to the palace is silent.

Not the comfortable kind.

The kind that crackles with things unsaid.

You can feel him beside you in the carriage, his body still wound tight, his hand flexing once on his knee as though resisting the urge to act. He doesn’t look at you, but his gaze burns into the side of your face all the same.

When the carriage stops, he’s out first, striding through the palace doors without a word. You follow, heels clicking against marble. He doesn’t slow down until you’re inside your chambers.

The door shuts hard behind you.

“Do you enjoy humiliating me?” His voice is sharp, each word laced with steel.

You slip off your gloves one finger at a time. “Do you enjoy pretending you own me?”

He takes two steps forward, closing the space between you. “Everything you did tonight- the dress, the smiles, touching him-”

“-was diplomacy,” you cut in. “Something a ruler should understand.”

His eyes flash, and then he’s crowding you backward until your spine meets the wall. His hand presses against it beside your head, trapping you in place.

“You wanted my attention?” His voice drops lower, dangerous. “Now you have it.”

Your heart kicks hard, but you lift your chin. “And what will you do with it, Your Highness?”

His mouth crashes onto yours- not gentle, not tentative, but claiming. His other hand drags up your thigh, finding the slit in your gown and shoving the silk higher.

“Prove to you,” he murmurs against your lips, “that you can play with anyone else in the room… but you’ll still end up here.”

You bite his lower lip, pulling back just enough to smirk. “And if I’m not impressed?”

His grip tightens on your hip. “Then I’ll try harder.”

He turns you toward the bed in one swift movement, the skirt of your gown bunching in his fist. You go willingly, but when he pushes you down, you twist to look over your shoulder.

“Still just duty?” you taunt.

He freezes for a fraction of a second- then his hands are on you again, rougher now, dragging you back against the hard, unmistakable shape of his cock through his trousers. “Tonight? It’s a lesson.”

The dress comes off in a series of impatient tugs, pooling on the floor. His palms roam over your bare skin like he’s taking inventory, thumbs digging into your ass before parting you just enough to feel the heat of his breath between your legs. You shiver, but refuse to turn your face away.

His clothes follow- not rushed, but stripped with deliberate precision, every motion dripping with control. When he finally presses the heavy, hot length of him against your entrance, he holds there for a moment, letting you feel every inch before he pushes in.

The stretch is deep and sudden, making your breath catch, your nails digging into the sheets. He doesn’t give you time to adjust- his hips drive forward in hard, unrelenting strokes, the thick slide of him hitting deep enough to make you gasp every time. His hands lock your hips in place, forcing you to take him exactly how he wants, his pace a brutal, steady rhythm meant to grind down your defiance.

But you meet every thrust, rocking back against him with just as much force, your slick making every connection filthy and loud.

“Say you belong to me,” he orders, voice ragged.

You shake your head, breathless but smiling even as pleasure twists low in your belly. “No.”

His mouth is at your ear in the next breath, teeth grazing the shell before his words pour over you like molten heat. “You will.”

You push back harder, grinding until the head of his cock drags against that sweet, swollen spot inside you. A moan slips free- you swallow it down before it can give him satisfaction. “Or you’ll learn I don’t belong to anyone.”

The challenge hangs between you, thick as the sweat on your skin. Neither of you slow down, each thrust sharper, wetter, more desperate. The slap of skin fills the room, your breaths tangled with curses and broken sounds you’d never admit to making.

You’re so close you can feel it buzzing in your bones but you hold it back out of spite, out of sheer will. His fingers slip down between your thighs, finding your clit and circling hard until your resolve cracks and your body shudders around him.

He follows with a deep, savage thrust, spilling into you with a low groan, hips grinding through the aftershocks like he’s branding you from the inside.

When it ends, you’re both breathless, flushed, staring at each other across the tangle of sheets.

He doesn’t kiss you. You don’t ask him to.

“You’re exhausting,” he says finally.

“You’re obsessed,” you reply.

And you both know you’re right.

═══════

Two weeks have passed since that night.

The night where anger blurred with want, where neither of you surrendered but both of you took.

Since then, you’ve spoken little. Polite exchanges in public, calculated silences in private.

The world sees perfection. You see the cracks.

This morning, the palace gardens are alive with late winter sunlight. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of blooming camellias and damp earth. You’ve always preferred this part of the palace- away from the council chambers, away from the eyes of the court.

Your ladies follow at a respectful distance as you take the marble path toward the upper terrace. The view from there sweeps over the river, the towers, and the city beyond- a reminder of everything that belongs to the crown, if not to you.

You’re halfway up the wide steps when your heel catches on the edge of your gown.

The world tilts.

Your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp as your foot slides on the slick marble. You stumble forward, ankle twisting hard. The pain shoots up your leg before your knees hit the ground.

And then- 

Strong hands catch you before you collapse completely.

The scent of warm spice and leather floods your senses.

“Y/N.” His voice is low, urgent.

You blink up into Jungkook’s face. For once, his expression isn’t composed. His eyes are wide, scanning you for injury.

“My ankle,” you breathe, wincing as the weight shifts.

Without hesitation, he bends and sweeps you into his arms. The motion startles you, your hands gripping his shoulders instinctively.

“Put me down,” you protest.

“Not a chance,” he says, his tone sharp but not cold. It’s threaded with something you’ve never heard from him before. Fear.

He carries you to a shaded bench, lowering you carefully. His fingers are warm and gentle as they press around the swelling ankle, his jaw tight.

“You’ll be off it for a day at least,” he says.

“It’s just a twist-”

“You’ll rest,” he interrupts, brooking no argument. “I’ll have a physician sent immediately.”

You tilt your head. “Are you… worried?”

His eyes meet yours. For a heartbeat, he doesn’t answer. “You are my wife,” he says finally, voice softer than you expect. “What happens to you matters.”

“You’ll stay in your chambers today. I’ll make the arrangements.”

And before you can protest, he bends again, one arm hooking under your knees, the other around your back, lifting you as if you weigh nothing.

“Jungkook-”

“Save your breath,” he says, eyes fixed forward. “You’re not walking on it.”

The world tilts in a different way now, the solid heat of him under you, the steady rhythm of his steps carrying you through the garden paths. Court attendants bow as he passes, some openly staring, but he doesn’t slow.

He carries you up the palace steps, down the corridors, and straight into your chambers-  only setting you down on the bed once you’re surrounded by the familiar silk and shadow.

His hands linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he steps back. “Rest.”

Then the mask is back, and he’s gone.

═══════

The physician leaves just before noon.

“It’s only a mild sprain,” he’d said, binding your ankle with clean linen and instructing you to stay off it for a day or two. “Nothing serious, Your Highness. As long as you rest.”

You’re propped against a fortress of pillows in your bed, silk sheets spilling over your legs, a cup of cooling tea at your side. The room is too still, too quiet. You’ve never been good at sitting still.

Your ladies-in-waiting keep offering to read to you or bring fresh flowers, but you send them away after the fourth polite interruption. It’s not their fault you feel caged. The crown fits heavy enough without being confined to your chambers.

You’re staring at the gilded canopy when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” you call.

Jungkook steps inside.

You blink. “I thought you had meetings all afternoon.”

“I do,” he says, but he doesn’t leave. He crosses the room, the sound of his boots muffled against the carpet. “I wanted to see if you were following orders.”

“Orders?” you repeat, arching a brow. “I didn’t realize marriage came with a chain of command.”

His gaze flicks to your bandaged ankle. “You’re still in bed. That’s a start.”

You expect him to leave after that, but instead, he moves toward the table and pours you fresh tea, setting the cup within reach. You catch the faintest furrow between his brows, the one that appears when he’s thinking too much.

“You didn’t have to-”

“It was closer to me than to you,” he cuts in.

“Right,” you murmur, hiding a small smile behind the rim of your cup.

He stands there a moment longer, as if debating something. “If you need anything-”

“I’ll send for a guard?” you finish for him, teasing.

His eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no heat in it. “Exactly.”

He turns to go, and something in you flares- curiosity, stubbornness, maybe both. “Jungkook.”

He pauses at the door.

“You caught me before I fell,” you say. “Why?”

For a heartbeat, his eyes meet yours. “Because you’re mine to protect.”

Then the door shuts behind him.

You’re left staring at it, unsure whether his words were a claim, a duty… or something else entirely.

═══════

By morning, the dull ache in your ankle has faded to something tolerable. Not gone- but not enough to keep you trapped in bed.

You dress yourself in a pale blue day gown, something soft and unassuming, and braid your hair back in a way that says I am perfectly fine, thank you. Your ladies-in-waiting hover nervously as you make your way to the sitting room.

“Your Highness,” one begins gently, “perhaps you should-”

“I’ve rested long enough,” you say, taking the first careful step toward the door. “There are things I need to see to.”

They exchange looks but say nothing.

The moment you open the door, you nearly collide with him.

Jungkook stands there, dressed in deep charcoal, the morning light catching on the silver clasp at his cloak. His gaze drops immediately to your feet, to the subtle limp you try- and fail- to hide.

“Where are you going?” His tone is calm, but there’s a weight to it.

“For a walk,” you say. “It’s a palace, not a prison.”

His jaw flexes. “Not without me.”

You fold your arms. “You’re busy. I can manage.”

He steps past you into the room, closing the door behind him. “You can barely walk without favoring that ankle.”

“I can walk,” you counter. “And I intend to.”

Something flickers in his eyes- not anger, not quite- before he exhales sharply. “Then I’ll escort you.”

It’s not a request.

You consider arguing, but there’s something in his stance, in the set of his shoulders, that tells you it will only waste time. So instead, you smile- sweet, false. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

He offers his arm. You take it, because refusing would feel like losing, and you refuse to lose to him in anything.

The walk is slow, deliberate. The gardens are busy with attendants pruning roses and sweeping paths. You can feel the eyes on you- the court always watches. Jungkook’s hand stays steady under yours, guiding you away from uneven ground, adjusting his pace without comment when you falter.

It’s infuriating how natural it feels.

When you reach the far end of the garden, you stop beside the fountain, pretending to admire the lilies floating on the surface.

“See?” you say. “Perfectly capable.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re controlling,” you reply. “Somehow, we make it work.”

For a moment, it almost feels like truce.

Almost.

Then he says, “Next time, I’ll carry you from the start.”

And before you can respond, he turns and starts back toward the palace, leaving you to follow with the faintest, most infuriating smile tugging at your lips.

═══════

The royal conservatory smells faintly of jasmine and politics.

Today’s luncheon is meant to honor a visiting trade delegation, but as always, it’s also a performance- a showcase of unity between the prince and his consort. You sit at Jungkook’s right, posture perfect, hands folded loosely in your lap.

The conversation drifts from tariffs to art to upcoming festivals. You answer politely when addressed, keeping your smile fixed in place.

Until Lord Jimin speaks.

He’s old money, old power, and old enough to think his opinion is law. Leaning back in his chair with a practiced smile, he says, “It’s lovely to see you out and about again, Your Highness. I’d heard you’d been… recovering from a fall? I suppose marble steps can be dangerous… for those unused to palace life.”

A polite ripple of laughter travels the table. The words are coated in courtesy, but the meaning is sharp- a reminder you’re an outsider, unaccustomed, and perhaps unfit.

You meet his gaze without flinching. “It’s true. I fell. Luckily, my husband was there to catch me.”

“Yes,” Jimin says smoothly, “though I imagine His Highness has far more pressing matters than tending to scraped ankles. Affairs of state require… sturdier footing.”

It’s a dig. Gentle enough to pass as banter, but you hear the insinuation beneath it: fragile, ornamental, a burden.

You’re ready to respond, but Jungkook speaks first.

“Lord Jimin,” he says, voice even but edged with steel, “you mistake grace for weakness.” The table quiets instantly. “The Princess has already proven herself in council and in matters of policy. She is not a burden. She is my partner.”

Jimin blinks, caught off guard.

“And,” Jungkook continues, his gaze locking with the older lord’s, “if I ever hear you suggest otherwise again- even in jest- I will ensure you regret it.”

A ripple of stunned silence follows. Somewhere down the table, a glass is set down a little too quickly.

Jimin forces a smile. “Of course, Your Highness. I meant no offense.”

“Then perhaps,” Jungkook says, his tone softening but not losing its weight, “you should choose your words more carefully.”

The conversation resumes, but the balance at the table has shifted.

You glance at Jungkook. His expression is unreadable, his focus already on the next course being served.

But under the table, you let your fingers brush his hand- not a thank-you, exactly, but an acknowledgment.

He doesn’t pull away.

The luncheon ends in a blur of polite farewells and murmured congratulations. You don’t remember half the names of the people you shook hands with- not because they weren’t important, but because you could feel Jungkook beside you.

Not just beside you. With you.

Every time you replay his words- “She is my partner”- your pulse stirs a little faster.

The doors close behind the last of the guests. Servants move to collect the empty glasses, but Jungkook’s voice stops them.

“Leave us.”

The room empties quickly. You’re still standing by the long banquet table when he crosses to you, his steps unhurried, but his gaze locked on yours like he’s already made a decision.

“You enjoyed that,” you murmur, chin lifting.

“What?” he says, stopping just close enough that you feel the warmth of him.

“Defending me.” You allow a slow smile. “Making it clear I’m yours.”

His hand is at your waist before you can react, pulling you flush against him. “You are mine.”

The words aren’t cold this time. They’re hot. Dangerous.

You open your mouth to retort, but his lips crash onto yours- not claiming like before, but taking, deep and insistent, like he’s been holding it back all afternoon. His tongue pushes past your lips, tasting you, coaxing a soft sound from the back of your throat.

Your fingers curl into his jacket, dragging him closer. The kiss breaks just long enough for him to murmur, voice rough, “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

He lifts you onto the table in one motion, your skirts spilling over polished wood. His mouth moves to your neck, your jaw, his teeth scraping lightly before his hands shove fabric higher and higher, until your thighs are bare.

“This isn’t about duty,” you breathe, half dazed.

He pushes you back so you’re lying on the table, bunching your dress up, and then he drops to his knees between your legs. Your breath catches. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you open. 

“No,” he agrees, his voice low, almost dangerous. “This is about you.”

And then his mouth is on you- a slow, deliberate lick over your slit that makes you jolt.

He doesn’t give you time to think before his mouth is on you- hot, wet, and devastatingly slow. His tongue slides from your entrance to your clit in one unhurried stroke, making you jolt.

His hands grip your thighs like steel, keeping you open while his tongue circles lazily, deliberately avoiding giving you enough pressure to push you over. He pulls back just enough to blow a warm breath over you, watching the way you shiver.

“Already wet,” he murmurs, smirking before diving in again, licking you like he’s savoring every drop. He alternates between slow, languid strokes and fast, focused flicks over your clit until your hips are rocking into his face.

You try to pull him closer, but he shakes his head against you, forcing you to take his pace. “You’ll come when I say,” he growls, before sealing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. The sound that tears from your throat is half-moan, half-curse.

He doesn’t stop. His tongue fucks into you, wet and insistent, before returning to your clit. The obscene sounds of his mouth on you fill the room, mingling with your ragged breathing. You’re panting now, thighs trembling against his grip, every muscle wound tight.

When your climax finally breaks, it’s sharp and shuddering, your back arching off the table. He holds you there, riding out every wave, his mouth never leaving you until you whimper from oversensitivity.

Only then does he rise, mouth slick, eyes dark. He leans over you, his cock already pressing against your thigh. “You don’t get to keep pretending after this,” you whisper, still catching your breath.

His hips still for a second, gaze locked on yours. Then he leans to your ear. “Then don’t give me a reason to.”

He frees himself and pushes into you in one deep, steady thrust, the thick stretch forcing a sharp gasp from your lips. The aftershocks of your orgasm make every inch of him feel amplified, your walls fluttering around him as he bottoms out.

He doesn’t give you time to settle- his hips draw back slow, almost teasing, before slamming forward again, the table groaning under the force. The rhythm he finds is hard and sure, each thrust hitting deep enough to make your breath hitch. His hands grip your hips, dragging you into every snap of his body, the sound of skin meeting skin sharp in the quiet room.

You cling to him, nails digging into the back of his jacket as he fucks you like he’s trying to brand himself into your muscles. The slick slide between you is filthy, your wetness coating him, making each thrust faster, harder.

When his mouth finds yours again, the kiss is desperate-  teeth, tongue, shared breath- his pace never faltering. He swallows your moans, dragging them out until they’re rough, uncontrolled sounds you swore you wouldn’t make for him.

Your legs wrap tighter around his waist, angling him deeper, and he growls low in his chest, the sound vibrating against your mouth. His hand slips between you, thumb finding your clit and circling just hard enough to make your vision blur.

“Come for me,” he orders, voice ragged. You do- helplessly- your body clenching around him as the climax rips through you. He groans, hips driving deep one last time before he spills inside you, grinding through the aftershocks until you’re both shaking.

For a moment, the only sound is your mingled breathing.

When it’s over, he stays inside you just long enough to make you feel the weight of it- then pulls out, tucking himself back in with slow precision. He adjusts his jacket, then reaches down, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“You should eat dinner in your chambers tonight,” he says.

It sounds like an order. It feels like care.

═══════

It’s only been a few days since the luncheon- and what happened after- but already, the edges between you and Jungkook are back to cutting.

The council chamber is thick with debate. A dispute over land rights has ministers talking over one another, and you’ve had enough. You speak up, cutting through the noise with a solution that’s both strategic and bold.

The room goes quiet. Even the scribe pauses his pen.

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change, but you catch the way his knuckles tap the table once- a subtle warning meant for you.

When the meeting adjourns, you rise with the others, smoothing your skirts. You expect him to walk beside you. Instead, he barely glances your way.

“You enjoy taking command in front of my council,” he says as you step into the corridor. His tone is light enough that an outsider wouldn’t catch the bite beneath it.

“They were wasting time,” you reply evenly. “I offered a solution.”

“You offered my solution,” he says, eyes forward. “Before I could give it.”

“That’s not my fault,” you counter, but he’s already striding ahead.

By the time you reach the great hall, he’s gone. No explanation. No dismissal. Just gone.

You wander the palace to cool your temper, your steps echoing in the quiet corridors. You’ve never cared much for the east wing- it’s quieter, more private- but today, you find yourself there.

A door at the end of the hall stands slightly ajar.

Jungkook’s office.

You hesitate, but curiosity wins.

Inside, the space is meticulously ordered- shelves lined with ledgers, a polished desk, the faint scent of ink and parchment in the air. You trail your fingers along the edge of the desk, noticing the papers stacked with military precision.

And then, near the bottom of one stack, you see it.

An envelope. Unsealed. Your name isn’t on it and the handwriting is Jungkook’s.

The date at the top freezes your breath in your chest- the day after your wedding.

You shouldn’t read it. You know that. But your fingers are already sliding the page free.

The first word you see is her. 

Jisoo.

Your stomach twists.

You look toward the door- still closed- then back at the page, your pulse loud in your ears.

You sink into his chair, the letter trembling slightly in your hands.

Whatever’s written here, you already know it’s going to hurt.

═══════

My dearest Jisoo,

I should not be writing to you. Every reason I have been given tells me to let go- to accept the reality they have bound me to. But it is not reality I am living in. It is a sentence.

Yesterday, I stood at the altar with your sister. I said the vows. I placed the ring on her finger. I lifted her veil. And the entire time, all I could think was how wrong it was that it was her standing there, and not you.

You should have been my bride. You should have worn the crown beside me.

But politics is a crueler ruler than either of us. You know as well as I do that your father would never have allowed it- not with the trade agreement your marriage prospects could secure for your kingdom.

You were promised long before I had the right to ask.

Lord Dae-Hyun’s second son was a match your father could not afford to lose, and once your name was spoken, it could not be withdrawn. By the time I realized, you were already gone- sealed off by duty, unreachable by even my title.

They told me it was impossible. That I had to take the match offered. That she was the only way to solidify the alliance.

As though I should be grateful.

I am not.

Y/N is… restless. Too quick to speak, too unwilling to simply be still. She moves like she’s waiting for a fight that no one has offered her, and perhaps that is the part I resent most- her constant need to be seen, to be heard. Even in these first hours as husband and wife, she seems determined to prove something, though I cannot imagine what it is, or to whom.

She will make noise, I am sure, and perhaps even cause enough distraction to make the ministers believe she is worth the trouble.

But she is not you.

She does not have your grace. Your steadiness. The way you can command a room without raising your voice.

When I look at her, I see only the shadow of what could have been. And it is unbearable to wake each day beside the wrong sister, knowing the one I wanted most is still within reach, yet impossibly far.

I do not expect you to answer this. Perhaps you will not even read it. But I needed you to know that, in every way that matters, I am still yours.

I will always be yours.

- Jungkook

═══════

You don’t remember standing.

One moment, you’re staring at the ink-  the words curling across the page like they were meant to strangle you- and the next, you’re shoving the letter back into the envelope with shaking hands.

Your legs move without thought, carrying you out of his office and through the palace corridors. You don’t care if anyone sees you. You just need to be away from there. Away from him.

By the time you reach your chambers, your breath is uneven, your vision swimming. The ladies-in-waiting rush to greet you, offering tea, asking if you’d like to change before dinner.

“Leave,” you say, your voice tight.

They freeze. “Your Highness-”

“Please,” you add, softer this time, but your voice cracks around the word. “I need to be alone.”

They bow and file out, glancing back as though worried to leave you like this. The door shuts.

The silence is crushing.

You press your back against it for a moment before sliding down to the floor. The sob breaks free before you can stop it-  raw, shattering, the kind that leaves you gasping.

You push yourself up and stagger to the bed, sinking into the mattress as if the weight of the letter is still pressing down on you. The tears come harder now, unstoppable. You press your hands over your mouth to muffle the sounds, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no one left to hear.

Every word replays in your mind- restless, wrong sister, always be yours. Each one cuts deeper, tearing through every fragile thread of dignity you’ve tried to hold together since the wedding.

Hours pass. The light outside dims to gold, then gray, then nothing. You don’t move. Dinner comes and goes. You don’t send for food. You don’t light the lamps. The only glow in the room is the faint spill of moonlight across the floor.

The knock at the door comes late. Before you can answer, it opens.

Jungkook steps inside, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “You weren’t at dinner.”

You don’t reply.

His gaze shifts to your face- the flushed skin, the reddened eyes, the damp lashes. His body stills.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

You just stare at him, the letter’s words burning between you like a secret only you know.

You don’t remember standing, but you’re on your feet when he steps closer.

“What happened?” he asks again.

Your fingers curl into fists at your sides. “If my father let you marry her right now,” you say, your voice shaking, “would I still be here?”

His brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

“Answer me!” Your voice rises, breaking against the walls. “Would I still be here, Jungkook?”

His eyes narrow. “You went through my things.”

“You wrote it!” you shout, the tears burning hot again. “You wrote it the day after our wedding! You said you wished it was her. You said I was the wrong sister. You said you’d always be hers.”

His jaw tightens, but his voice stays level- too level. “And what if I did? It was the truth.”

Your breath catches.

“I married you for politics,” he says, each word deliberate, cold. “Not for love. And yes, everything in that letter is true.”

It feels like the floor drops out from under you.

You take a step back, but he follows, his voice sharper now. “You think snooping through my office will make you more than what you are? It doesn’t. You were a convenience, Y/N. Nothing more.”

The sob rips from your throat before you can stop it. “You’re cruel.”

“And you’re naive,” he snaps. “If you thought this marriage was anything else, that’s on you.”

It’s the final blow- not just the words, but the way he says them, like they’re facts, not daggers.

Your vision blurs. You turn away before he can see the collapse happening inside you. “I’m going home.”

“You can’t just-”

But you’re already moving, shoving past him, through the door, and down the corridor.

Within the hour, you’re in the stables, your guards scrambling to follow orders they didn’t expect. The palace fades behind you as the carriage rattles toward your father’s kingdom.

You don’t look back.

If you did, you might see the shadow in the window- a figure watching you leave, unmoving until you vanish from sight.

═══════

jungkook’s pov: 

The door slammed behind her hours ago. And yet, the echo of her voice still lingers.

Jungkook sits at his desk, the untouched glass of brandy in front of him reflecting the moonlight. He’d been furious when she confronted him- furious she’d been in his office, furious she’d read the letter. But fury fades fast when it’s replaced by the memory of her face, wet with tears, breaking in front of him.

Six months.

They’ve been married six months. Long enough for him to know the sound of her laughter when she’s not guarding it, the precise way her brow furrows when she’s deciding whether to speak her mind, the warmth in her voice when she’s talking to anyone who isn’t him.

And long enough for him to notice her- truly notice her. The way she moves, carries herself, commands attention without even trying. The way her beauty isn’t something the court dresses gave her, but something she wears like armor.

He’d told himself from the start that she was a political necessity, nothing more. The letter he’d written to Jisoo had been the truth back then or at least the truth he’d chosen to believe. But now?

Now he remembers the garden. How light she’d felt in his arms when he carried her back to her chambers. How she hadn’t flinched when Lord Jimin made his sly dig, but met it with a smile that made Jungkook want to break the man’s teeth.

The way her hand had brushed his under the table after he defended her. The faint smile she tried to hide.

And after everyone left , the way she’d come apart under his hands. How the urgency between them had been more than anger, more than duty. The taste of her still lingers on his tongue, the sound of her voice when she moaned his name still carved into his memory. It hadn’t been detached, like before- not when he was buried inside her, not when his mouth was on her, not when her nails clawed at his shoulders like she was trying to hold him there forever. He’d been closer to her in that hour than in the entire six months of their marriage.

God, he’d said she was a convenience. Nothing more.

The lie tastes bitter.

He pushes back from the desk and stands abruptly, the chair scraping the floor. His coat is on in seconds, boots echoing against the stone floors as he makes for the stables.

It doesn’t matter that it’s past midnight. It doesn’t matter that the journey to her father’s kingdom will take hours.

He has to see her.

Not as a prince, not as a husband fulfilling some duty- but as a man who knows he’s made a mistake.

The groomsman barely has time to saddle his horse before Jungkook swings into the saddle. The cold night air bites at his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the emptiness in the palace without her.

He rides hard.

He’s going to bring her home.

═══════

The warmth of your father’s manor is different from the one you left.

Here, the air doesn’t feel like it’s pressing down on you. The corridors smell faintly of cedar and fresh bread instead of cold stone. You can breathe without worrying about who’s watching.

For the first time in months, you let yourself sit without the weight of the crown. Wrapped in a thick blanket in your father’s private sitting room, you sip tea, listening to the muted hum of distant conversation.

You’re not healed. You know that. But for now, you’re home.

The knock on the front doors comes just as you set your cup down. Footsteps cross the marble foyer, and then- a voice you never thought you’d hear here.

“Is she here?”

Your blood runs cold.

Jisoo’s voice answers, careful but unmistakably surprised. “Jungkook.”

You freeze, every muscle locking in place.

“I need to see her,” he says- no hesitation, no preamble.

Before you can even decide whether to stand or run, he’s inside. His eyes find you across the room in an instant. And then he’s moving- past Jisoo, past the threshold, crossing the space between you like nothing else exists. He’s in front of you before you can even get to your feet.

Jungkook drops to his knees, the movement sharp and sudden, his hands coming up to cradle your face like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on. His eyes search yours- not for anger, not for forgiveness, but for proof you’re real.

“Y/N-”

You shove his hands away, the blanket slipping from your shoulders. “Don’t.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. Then Jisoo, sensing the air between you, murmurs something to your father and slips from the room. The door shuts behind them, leaving only the two of you.

Your voice is low, but cutting. “You don’t get to come here, after what you said, and pretend it never happened.”

He doesn’t argue. He just looks at you- truly looks- as though you’ve hung the stars and he’s only just realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For all of it. For the letter. For what I said after. For every time I made you feel unwanted.”

You fold your arms, holding your ground.

“I didn’t know I was falling for you,” he continues, “until it was already happening.”

You scoff. “Falling for me?”

“The winter gala,” he says, and you can hear the truth in his voice. “You walked into that room and the whole court bent toward you, even when I was furious. The garden- when you fell, I’ve never been that afraid in my life. Your wit, the way you see through people at council. The luncheon- the way you touched my hand under the table like you knew exactly what it meant. And after… when we were together, it wasn’t just anger or duty anymore. For the first time, I felt like I was with you, not just my wife.”

He swallows hard. “And the quieter things. Dinners where you laughed with the servants and made them forget you were royalty. The way you read late at night, biting your lip when you turn the page. The way you hum when you think no one’s listening.”

Your breath catches, but you mask it with a shake of your head. “Words are easy, Jungkook. You’ve had six months to show me I matter and you didn’t. Why should I believe you now?”

His jaw tightens. “Because I’m standing here, asking you to come home.”

You meet his gaze, steady and unflinching. “No. Not until you prove it.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but you don’t look away. For the first time since you’ve known him, he nods- not in dismissal, but in acceptance.

“I will.”

═══════

jungkook’s pov:

The court is already buzzing when Jungkook walks into the great hall. Ministers in rich silks murmur over parchment, their jeweled rings catching the light. They fall silent when they see what he’s carrying.

An envelope. Old. Unsealed.

He walks to the center of the room, past the council table, past the throne. The letter-the one he wrote to Jisoo six months ago-  feels like it weighs more than steel in his hand.

Without preamble, he sets it atop the silver brazier meant for burning old decrees.

“This letter,” he says, his voice carrying easily in the vaulted hall, “is a lie I let live too long.”

The ministers glance at one another.

He strikes a match and drops it onto the parchment. Flame curls the edges, swallowing the words, until nothing remains but black ash.

“I have one queen,” he continues. “Not simply a wife to fulfill politics, not a placeholder for another. Y/N is my queen- in title, in duty, and in my heart.”

Murmurs ripple through the chamber.

“She is the woman who has stood beside me when I gave her no reason to. Who has shown strength where others expected silence. Who has matched me in wit, in will, and in fire.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “And I love her.”

The last of the letter collapses into ash.

He turns to the royal scribe. “Send word to her father’s court. Let it be known across both kingdoms.”

═══════

The day is uneventful until the envoy arrives.

The royal messenger steps into your father’s receiving room, his cloak still dusted with travel, the sealed scroll in his hand gleaming with Jungkook’s crest.

“For Her Highness, the Princess Consort,” he says, bowing as he offers it.

Your father watches you break the seal.

The parchment is brief but formal- the kind of statement meant to be read in public squares and whispered over in taverns:

A letter burned. Your name spoken in the great hall. You, named not only wife, but queen. And the final line, in Jungkook’s unmistakable hand: I love you.

Your fingers tighten on the parchment. You can hear the pounding of your own heart.

“Seems he’s made his choice,” your father says quietly.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not yet.

You’re still staring at the proclamation when Jisoo slips into your room.

“So… he burned it?” she says, perching lightly on the edge of your bed.

You nod, the parchment still in your lap. “In front of everyone. Declared me his queen. Said he loves me.”

Jisoo studies your face. “And you don’t believe him?”

“I want to,” you admit, your voice low. “But wanting to and trusting are two different things.”

Jisoo’s expression softens. “You’ve always been braver than you think, Y/N. Go see him. Make him prove it in person.”

The next day, you do.

The journey back to his kingdom feels shorter this time, though your heart is heavier with each mile.

When the carriage pulls into the palace courtyard, you expect the usual line of attendants and guards. You don’t expect him- standing at the base of the steps, dressed simply, holding a bouquet of deep red roses.

The door opens, and the early Spring air rushes in.

He looks up at you, something unguarded in his eyes. “Welcome home, Y/N.”

You step down from the carriage, the scent of the roses reaching you before his hands do.

For a moment, neither of you moves. Then he offers them to you. You take the roses, the petals velvety against your fingers.

“They’re beautiful,” you say, your voice careful.

“They’re not enough,” Jungkook replies.

You blink up at him. “Then why give them to me?”

“Because I needed something in my hands when I saw you,” he admits. “Otherwise I might not have been able to keep from-” He stops himself, his jaw flexing. “-from saying too much, too soon.”

The words catch you off guard.

An attendant moves to take your luggage, but Jungkook waves them off. “I’ll walk her.”

You glance at him, then at the long climb up the palace steps. “You don’t usually play porter.”

“I don’t usually try to win back my wife,” he says, matter-of-fact.

Inside, the corridors are quieter than usual. He walks beside you, matching your pace, and doesn’t speak again until you reach your chambers.

“I know words won’t be enough,” he says, stopping at the threshold. “So I’ll show you.”

“How?” you ask, wary but curious.

“By being the man you deserve,” he answers without hesitation. “By giving you reason to believe me every day, not just when it’s convenient for me. By making sure you never have to doubt you are my queen- in every way that matters.”

You search his face, looking for cracks in the resolve. But his gaze holds steady.

“Then start proving it,” you say finally, stepping into the room.

Before the door closes, you hear him say softly, “I already am.”

═══════

The council chamber feels different this morning.

The air isn’t thick with the weight of being tolerated- it hums with the quiet acknowledgment of your place at the table. The ministers rise when you enter, bowing not out of obligation, but something closer to respect.

Jungkook takes his seat at the head of the table. You take yours at his right but for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re in his shadow.

A dispute over the naval fleet’s funding takes center stage. Two ministers argue over whether to cut costs or invest in new shipbuilding.

You listen. And when their voices climb over each other, you speak.

“Cutting costs now will cost us more later,” you say, your tone firm but measured. “If we invest in the fleet, we secure our trade routes. That’s more revenue in the long term- and more security for our allies.”

All eyes shift to you.

One minister hesitates. “But, Your Highness-”

“She’s right,” Jungkook cuts in smoothly, his gaze steady on you. “The Princess’s proposal is sound. It will be implemented.”

You allow yourself a small smile, meeting his eyes.

The discussion moves on, but the shift lingers- ministers asking for your opinion, valuing it, weighing it as they would his. And each time you speak, Jungkook listens. Not with the detached patience of before, but with intent, his attention fixed on you as though no other voice in the room matters.

By the end of the session, the room feels different again. Not because you’ve changed, but because they’ve started to see you as you’ve always been.

A queen in the room.

═══════

The council chamber has long since emptied, but the weight of the day lingers in your shoulders.

You find him in his office, the golden light of late afternoon spilling over the maps and scrolls spread across his desk. He looks up when you enter, his expression softening almost imperceptibly.

“You were remarkable today,” Jungkook says, leaning back in his chair. “The fleet’s commanders will be sending you wine for that decision.”

You smile faintly but don’t sit. Instead, you step closer, your skirts whispering over the polished floor. “I need to ask you something.”

His gaze sharpens. “Anything.”

You stop a few feet from him, folding your hands in front of you. “What do you see in me,” you ask slowly, “that you never saw in Jisoo?”

The room stills.

He blinks once, as if he’s not sure he heard you right. “Why are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” you say, keeping your voice even, “you’ve told me you love me. You’ve burned your letter. You’ve defended me in court. But there’s still a part of me that wonders if you love me for me, or because I became what you needed.”

He rises from the chair, closing the distance until he’s standing right in front of you. “You think I’d confuse the two?”

“I think,” you answer, meeting his eyes, “that I deserve to know the difference.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The only sound is the quiet ticking of the clock on the mantle, marking each second between you.

And then he nods once- slow, deliberate. “Alright. I’ll tell you.”

He doesn’t look away when he speaks.

“When I thought of Jisoo,” Jungkook begins, “I saw… calm. The kind of quiet the court praises. She was gentle, and she fit the image of a queen in everyone’s mind, including mine. But it was a dream I built out of fragments. I didn’t know her. I had a single conversation with her.”

He takes another step closer. “And when I married you… I told myself it was only politics. But then the reality of you started undoing me.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t interrupt.

“The winter gala,” he says softly. “You walked in wearing that wine-red gown, and the entire court turned toward you- not because of your title, but because you owned the room. And I hated how much I noticed. The garden, when you fell-  I’ve been in battles where men were dying around me, and I wasn’t as scared as I was in that moment.”

His voice lowers. “Your wit in council. The way you don’t back down, even when I’ve given you every reason to. That day you outmaneuvered Lord Jimin with a single look and a sharper tongue- I wanted to kiss you in front of everyone.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding.

“And the luncheon,” he continues. “When you touched my hand under the table, I thought it was nothing. But afterwards… when I had you in my arms, when you let me in completely- it wasn’t anger, or duty, or proving a point. It was you. Just you. And I realized I’d never had that with anyone before.”

He exhales slowly. “You don’t just fit the image of a queen. You are one. And I see you, Y/N- not the crown, not the alliance, not my title beside yours. Just you. And I love what I see.”

He runs a hand through his hair, almost like he’s searching for the right words. “I think I was in love with you before I even understood it. Before I let myself admit it. Every time you challenged me, every time you made me see the world differently, it was another thread pulling me toward you. And now… now I can’t imagine a world where you’re not mine.”

The silence between you is different now- not the sharp-edged kind that’s filled your marriage, but something warmer. Something that pulls you toward him instead of pushing you away.

When he reaches for you, it’s not rushed. His hands frame your face gently, like he’s memorizing the shape of you. His kiss is unhurried, deep, and you taste the truth of everything he’s just said in the way his mouth moves against yours.

You let him guide you back toward the bed, but this time there’s no battle for control- only the steady pull of his hands and the unspoken promise in his touch. Every glance, every brush of his fingers is a question, and you answer without hesitation, giving him all of you.

When his lips trail down your throat, you feel the weight of his love in the way he lingers, his mouth pressing gentle kisses, his nose brushing your skin like he’s breathing you in.

Clothing falls away slowly- not torn, but removed like it’s precious. He studies every inch of revealed skin with eyes that are soft and heavy with want, his hands tracing you as though he’s committing each curve to memory.

He eases you back onto the bed, kneeling between your thighs, and lowers himself until his breath ghosts over your core. The first kiss he presses there is slow, deliberate, making you gasp. “You’re so beautiful here,” he murmurs, before his tongue drags through your folds.

The first wave comes quickly- his mouth seals over your clit, tongue flicking just right while two fingers slide inside you, curling until you’re gasping his name. He hums, the sound sending shivers through you as you clench around him, hips rocking helplessly.

He doesn’t let you come down. His mouth never leaves you, his fingers easing out only to be replaced by the wet slide of his tongue dipping inside you, tasting everything you give him. You whimper, overstimulated already, but his hands pin your hips to the mattress, holding you there until the second orgasm crashes over you- sharper this time, your thighs trembling around his head.

When you sag against the bed, panting, he kisses your inner thigh, his voice low and reverent. “One more for me, love.”

You can barely shake your head before his mouth is back on your clit, slower this time, coaxing instead of demanding. His fingers return, pumping deep and steady while his tongue traces lazy circles. The build is excruciatingly tender, your body tightening until you spill over again, crying out and clinging to him like you might drown without him.

Only then does he finally come up to you, his mouth finding yours, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Perfect,” he whispers, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “You’re perfect.”

He lines himself up and pushes into you with a long, steady thrust, the head of his cock stretching you inch by inch until he’s buried fully inside. Your lips part in a shuddering gasp, your body still fluttering from the last climax, the aftershocks wrapping around him and drawing a deep groan from his chest.

He stills there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard like he’s savoring every second of being inside you. “God, you feel incredible,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “I love you so much.”

His hips begin to move- slow at first, dragging all the way out before pressing back into the hilt, making you feel every inch. Each thrust is deep and deliberate, his hand finding yours between your bodies and lacing your fingers together like he’s anchoring himself.

He kisses you through it, the kind of kisses that steal your breath- soft one moment, hungry the next. His free hand strokes your cheek, tucks your hair back, touches you like you’re fragile and the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“You take me so well,” he breathes against your lips. “Every time… every time you feel like home.”

The words make your chest ache in the best way, your hips rising to meet his as the rhythm builds. He shifts slightly, angling his thrusts until the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. His thumb finds your clit again, stroking in slow, perfect circles that have you gasping into his mouth.

“Come with me,” he whispers, his voice almost desperate. “Please… I need to feel you.”

It hits you fast, your body clenching hard around him as your climax rips through you. He follows instantly, his hips stuttering as he spills deep inside, groaning your name into the crook of your neck. He keeps moving, slow and gentle now, riding out every aftershock until you’re both trembling and breathless.

When it’s over, he stays inside you, his chest pressed to yours, his hand still laced with yours. Finally, he eases out, tucks himself back in, and gathers you against him. His lips brush your temple in a soft, lingering kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, quieter now, like the words are meant just for you.

You close your eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart under your ear, and for the first time since you married him, you let yourself believe it.

═══════

Four months pass, and the court is no longer divided over you.

You’ve stood in the council chamber beside Jungkook, your voice carrying as much weight as his. You’ve walked the gardens with visiting dignitaries, negotiated trade proposals, and heard the people’s petitions in the great hall. Every step, every decision, every glance exchanged with him has been watched- and now, no one doubts.

Today is the day it becomes official.

The great hall is a sea of color, banners of both your kingdoms and his draped from the vaulted ceiling. Sunlight pours through stained glass, scattering jewels of light across the marble floor. Nobles, ministers, and foreign rulers fill the room, their eyes on the dais where two thrones sit side by side.

Jungkook is already there, dressed in ceremonial black and gold, a crown resting lightly on his head. He turns when you enter, and the faint smile that touches his lips is for you alone.

The High Chancellor’s voice rings out, carrying over the hush. “By the will of the Crown and the grace of Almighty God, let it be known throughout this realm and beyond its borders: Princess consort Y/N, beloved daughter of the realm and consort to His Majesty the King, having been found worthy in faith, in honor, and in steadfast devotion, is this day anointed and crowned.

From henceforth she shall be known as Her Most Gracious Majesty, Y/N, Queen Consort of this Kingdom, Guardian of the Crown’s dignity, and sworn companion to the Sovereign.

May her counsel be wise, her heart steadfast, and her reign beside His Majesty bring peace, prosperity, and glory to the realm.

Long live the Queen!”

You step forward, and the crown- lighter than you imagined, yet impossibly heavy with meaning- is placed upon your head.

When you rise, Jungkook takes your hand in front of the entire court, his grip warm and steady. The cheers that follow echo through the hall, the sound of a kingdom bearing witness.

You glance at him, your heart steady and certain.

Once, his heart was elsewhere. Now, it beats for me alone.

═══════

LINK TO REQUEST ♡ MASTERLIST ♡ a03

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

═══════

Posted: 08/15/2025

Taglist: @mar-lo-pap @lovingkoalaface @whoa-jo @kiliskywalker666 @sucker4jeon @annpeachy-blog @kaiparkerwifes @nikkinikj @asyr97 @jjkluver7 @bammbi-jeon127 @kookoo-kachoo @angelsdecalcomania @kayswatanabe @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @llallaaa @chromietriestowrite @k1ll1ngcl0wns @jahnaviii @mfsitscho @traumaanatomy @yu-justme @bangtaniess @roseda @hottigerboba @xumyboo @bangtansfav-7 @ggukieskookie @granataepfelchen @blubird592 @mellyyyyyyx @gukkiemybaby @likeesapphire @jaerisdiction @amarawayne @elithenium @heyinwluv85s @prilnextdoor23 @Strxqrd1 @uli_o7 @jojojoliejolene @kyrasworldd @sc05

[gukcnt]

BOUND BY VOWS ⭒ M. LIST

your world crumbles when you're forced into a marriage with jeon jungkook, a man whose commanding presence terrifies you, reminding you of your father's cruelty. yet beneath his coldness, jungkook’s unexpected kindness stirs a spark of hope, making you question everything you fear. your life together starts—an emotional journey of two hearts seeking comfort, healing and a chance at love

pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader

genre — arranged marriage au, forced marriage, marriage of convenience, age gap, reader is of age, forbidden love, forced proximity, enemies to friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, rich ceo!jungkook, shy!reader, virgin!reader, poor!reader, obsession and possessive love, pining, slow burn, contrast of worlds, romance, drama, lots of angst, smut, fluff

warnings — 18+, explicit sex scenes, mature themes, forced marriage, emotional abuse and trauma, dark aspects, daddy issues, domestic violence references, mental health themes and struggles, smoking and drinking, grief and loss, each chapter contains their individual warnings (reader discretion is advised due to the intense, dark and potentially triggering content)

status — ongoing

taglist — [open]

「 MASTERLIST | READ ON WATTPAD 」

INDEX

⤷ 01 : a deal for her hand » 6.8k

“you’re getting married. in a week. to jeon jungkook.”

⤷ 02 : forced to say 'i do' » 5.2k

“you’re a monster just like him! i’ll never forgive you or think this is okay. you—you bought me and i'll hate you for it every day for the rest of my life!”

⤷ 03 : strangers under the same roof » 12.3k

“you’ve been through a lot, y/n. i see it in your eyes, but you're still here, still fighting… that’s not weakness. that’s a strength most people don’t have.”

⤷ 04 : an agreement between us » 8.9k

“i married you, y/n because i wanted you, because you made me feel something for the first time in years. i wanted to protect you, to give you everything and now i'm the one paying for your father's lies.”

⤷ 05 : unspoken truths and comfort » 7.2k

“until i saw you that day at your house, when your father brought you to me and you were so… alive, so sweet, even with all the sadness in your eyes. i wanted you.. not just to have you but to make you happy, to give you everything i never had.”

⤷ 06 : healing in his hold » 11.2k

“touch my wife again and you won’t live long enough to regret it. she’s my woman… and you know exactly how possessive i get when someone dares to lay a hand on what’s mine.”

⤷ 07 : soft edges of us » 9.3k

“you’ve been through enough. you don’t have to hide your pain, not from me. if you're hurting or if you need something—tell me. i’m here, i want to be here.”

⤷ 08 : losing ourselves in maldives » 10k

“you’re such a dirty little thing, aren’t you? sitting there watching me jerk off? you wish that i was fucking your pussy instead huh?”

⤷ 09 : another day in paradise » 14.6k

“i’ve never wanted a woman like this never begged on my knees for anyone but you, fuck… i’ve wanted you since the day i saw you.”

⤷ 10 : is it the end of us? » 12.6k

“you’re everything to me, y/n. i’d never hurt you, i’d rather die than do that. just let me explain once just hear me out—”

⤷ 11 : maybe it's really a sad ending » 5.4k

“you don't get to say anything about her or tell me to let her go. she's my everything you don't know what it's like to love her so much that it hurts, only for it to lose it all in a day.”

⤷ 12 : us against the world » 21.5k

“i’d chase you to the ends of the earth baby, no matter what it takes.”

⤷ 13 : sex & love » 26k

“tell me angel, do you want me to watch you being such a naughty girl? want me to see how wet you get thinking about me fucking you raw right there, bending you over and filling you up?”

⤷ 13.5 : our first time » 21k

“i want you to fuck me like you hate me. like you’ve wanted to break me for weeks.”

⤷ 14 : afterglow and filthy desires » 41.6k

“you promise you will fuck my ass one day?”

⤷ 14.5 : switchin' the positions for you » 14k

“that's it koo… eat my pussy like a good boy.”

⤷ 15 : [ to be released. ]

EXTRAS

⤷ Q&A with bbv!characters

⤷ teaser

⤷ bbv!jungkook

⤷ moodboard/aesthetic created by some of my lovely readers

© GUKCNT — all rights reserved. | divider by @/enchanthings

[gukcnt]

《 ONE NIGHT CONTRACT 》 BTS

𓊆 ❤︎ 𓊇 ──── seven powerful businessmen have the luxury, the influence and anything they could ever desire — yet none of it makes them feel alive anymore. that is, until they become captivated by a waitress who awakens something inside them for the first time in years. drawn in by your presence, they offer you one night of passion and pleasure in exchange for money, never expecting it to end in such an unforgettable way.

PAIRING ✦ dom!bts x sub!f.reader

GENRE ✦ gangbang au, BDSM, polyamory, eightsome, porn with little plot, smut, fluff

WARNINGS ✦ 18+, explicit smut, rough sex, eightsome, multiple orgasms and positions, creampie, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), free use, mentions of safe word (not used), semi public sex, they're all obsessed and possessive over her, drinking and smoking, flirting, they protect her, sexual fantasies and interest, so much tension, makeouts, hickies and marking, scratching and hair pulling, mentions of blood, they literally have the sweetest yet dirty relationship development, kinda semi public sex, thigh riding, groping, power play, size kink, heavy body worship, stripping, praise kink and dirty talk, switch but mainly submissive!reader, slowburn sex cos they take their sweet time with her, they call her her with such endearing nicknames, oral sex (f. receiving), breast play and nipple play, so much nipple stimulation, belly button stimulation, teasing over panties, clit rubbing, panty sniffing, finger sucking, they tease her so much, clothed sex, cunnilingus by multiple men, pussy eating, face riding, clit sucking, pussy inspection, she's always being touched in every way possible, so much hypersensitivty and arousal, edging, cum eating, finger fucking, scissoring and g-spot and cervix stimulation, fisting and penetration from several fingers, anal fingering, rimming, use of lube, yoongi saves the best for last so he claims her ass first, anal training, cum denial, begging, they make her squirt while giving her oral, oral sex (m. receiving), kneeling circle blowjob to all seven men in rotation, deepthroating, throat fucking, gagging and saliva play, she switches between them, ball sucking cos our man jin loves it, use of belt as a collar, cock slapping on face/tongue, sloppy messy blowjob, crying, overstimulation, simultaneous handjobs, sensory overload, they masturbate onto her body, cum facials and cum play, cleaning cocks with mouth post cum, they constantly check in on her, yoongi fucks her in reverse cowgirl, choking, mirror sex while doing it doggy with hoseok, manhandling, spanking, mid air suspended position by jungkook, deep pounding, cowgirl position, she rides seokjin while yoongi sucks her clit, bondage with the use of silk ties, missionary by taehyung and jimin, degradation, they cat call her, cum inflation and frothing, nasty sex, so much bodily fluids, double penetration, namjoon takes her ass while jimin takes her pussy, tit fucking and handjobs together, they pass her around and uses her (consensual), double vaginal penetration done by yoongi and jimin, triple penetration, belly bulging, all holes used repeatedly and creampied, slight details of several more positions and orgasms, they compete against who can make her cum the hardest, sex throughout the night, she kinda ends up losing her consciousness, they all take care of her together, sweetest loving aftercare

WC ✦ 28k

NOTE ✦ it's finally posted! i'm so sorry for the delay but i hope y'all enjoy this oneshot, this is also my biggest oneshot so far and definitely my smuttiest one yet so i hope it leaves your panties wet and your thighs trembling a little hehe, i've put a lot of time and effort into this story cos it's also my first time writing an ot7 smut, i hope it's worth your time and lives up to your expectations, if it isn't perfect, i apologize since this was my first attempt writing a fic involving so many characters at once, i'll keep practicing and working hard to make even better ot7 fics in the future, as always i'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback in any form, it means the world to me and always motivate me to keep writing, i love you sweethearts, happy reading !! <3

『 teaser | masterlist | read on wattpad 』

“another win today.” namjoon says, leaning back against the couch with a sigh.

jeon jungkook, kim taehyung, park jimin, kim namjoon, kim seokjin, jung hoseok and min yoongi, seven powerful businessmen had spent the whole day in boardrooms acting like actual hunters in sealing the deal that left everyone else speechless. exhausted and filled with the adrenaline of victory, they'd all collectively decided to head straight to one of the city's most exclusive clubs. they didn’t wanna face the quietness and loneliness of going back to their house, where everything seemed too consuming but coming here wasn’t any better.

they had everything one could only ever dream of, endless money, private jets, yachts and influence over the highest ranks yet the men today felt a certain hollowness in their chest. a void that no amount of luxury could fill, it was mocking because they were supposed to celebrate winning billions today.

they were all seated in the vip section that had been prepared for them before they even arrived, their status was known too well by everyone.

jungkook the youngest yet fiercest among them, who is used to getting what he wants slumped back against the cushions, his black suit jacket unbuttoned and his tie hanging loose around his neck, revealing the tattoos that traveled up his arm to the side of his chest. taehyung was beside him as he accepted a glass from the waitress, his own tie loosened as well. jimin fiddled with his cufflinks before tossing them aside while namjoon, who was often like the leader when it came to their business, crossed one leg over the other.

seokjin the eldest ran a hand through his hair, loosening his tie completely to be able to breathe properly. hoseok beside him, probably the least grumpy and bubbliest in the group, leaned forward with elbows on his knees but he also tends to be intimidating at times when necessary. yoongi the quietest and most intimidating was right beside him, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. he was the most feared and intimidating one among all of them, those sharp eyes alone sent shivers down people's spines.

“it feels empty..” hoseok broke the initial silence as he exhaled smoke from his own cigarette. the vip rooms glass walls allowed a view of what was going on outside but inside it felt too isolated.

“billions more in the bank—we should be celebrating shouldn’t we?”

but even as he spoke, his eyes drifted to the ashtray, his usual vibrant energy dimmed by that same hollow feeling they all shared. they were tired of the constant days of work and the same routine that nothing seemed to spark that feeling of being alive anymore.

“yeah.” jungkook replied with a frustrated tone as he stared into the distance, lost in thoughts of the day that should have left him exhilarated but instead left him numb.

“fuck… it feels like i'm losing myself amidst so much work.”

taehyung nodded slowly, swirling the alcohol in his glass before taking a sip, his gaze distant as he took off his suit jacket throwing it over the armrest.

“i feel it too… there's no excitement anymore, no one to share it with that truly gets it.”

it felt like they'd climbed every mountain to reach the top and they finally had but now the view is just empty sky. the conversation went on between them comfortably until jimin chimed in too.

“i caught myself standing by the office window earlier.” he mutters.

“i was thinking about how we used to make such a big deal of every win. now we’re making billions and i barely feel anything.”

he lets out a dry laugh.

“that's messed up isn’t it?”

namjoon ever the philosophical one, nodded.

“i get it, we spent years working for it convinced it'd make us happy then we get here and.. life just keeps going.”

“exactly.” seokjin added.

“i brought the latest new car last week, the one everyone won't shut up about.”

“and?” hoseok asked making jin snort.

“and nothing, it was cool for ten minutes then it was just another car you'd brought.”

a few chuckles spread around the table. yoongi remained quiet but his rare interjection cut through, taking a drag from his cigarette before speaking.

“every day feels the same lately.”

the others looked up at him.

“wake up, work, make money, go home, repeat.”

“and the worst part?” taehyung says quietly.

“we should be happy..”

“but we’re not.” jimin finished.

silence settled as they sat there with just their thoughts. a stripper began her usual routine just outside their enclosure, her body moving in a seductive dance catching the attention of every single man present there but not one of the seven men so much as glanced her way, their eyes remained unfocused staring into space, occasionally sipping their drinks or puffing smoke out. all their thoughts were interconnected in some way.

jungkook traced the rim of his glass absentmindedly while taehyung's brow lifted when yoongi spoke up again.

“we're sitting here acting like a bunch of depressed old men.”

that earned a few genuine laughs.

“maybe we are old men.” seokjin admits.

“speak for yourself.”

the laughter faded but the mood felt lighter for a moment even though the silence returned because it wasn’t awkward just familiar.

in the main area outside the exclusive section, you walked around balancing a heavy tray full of cocktails and liquors. you'd worked this job for far too long, your sweet smile remained fixed on your lips as always but that never quite reached your exhausted eyes. the uniform you wore was the standard for the club and what all the waitresses here must wear, a tiny shirt and a black blouse with a neckline plunging enough to reveal your cleavage but not overly vulgar. it was tiny and tight leaving little to the imagination and you'd grown used to the wandering eyes and glances of drunk men while working. your feet ached in those heels today and the constant barrage of customers earlier had left you drained but you still pushed forward with determination.

just a few more hours before you can go home and relax and get out of this hellhole.

as you continued serving in the main area moving between tables, you hadn't even glanced toward the vip section yet, focused entirely on the section you were serving placing drinks in front of some loud men nearby but you didn’t know that taehyung's eyes had lifted suddenly, scanning the crowd out of habit before locking onto you. for whatever reason, you caught his attention immediately and completely.

there was something about the way you carried yourself, even from where he sat he could see the tiredness etched deeply in your eyes, the way when you thought no one was watching you let your posture slump. he couldn’t help but notice the subtle bounce of your breasts with each step and the way your hair was styled but slightly messy from the busy night. it wasn’t just the physical allure even though you were one of the sexiest women he had laid eyes on, it was also the authenticity, the way there was something real in you. it was like a cherry on top, making you look even more attractive in his eyes even though he hadn't interacted with you and it made his heart race. unexpectedly.

intrigued taehyung straightened, genuine interest flickering in his usually bored gaze as he leaned toward the others.

“hey all of you, look over there, the waitress serving the main floor.”

the group shifted their attention subtly, eyes following his direction. jungkook raised an eyebrow crushing out his cigarette as he took in the sight of you balancing another tray.

“damn… there's something about her.” jungkook observes.

jimin tilted his head, a small smirk forming as he observed you.

“i know right?”

he was clearly intrigued as namjoon nodded thoughtfully, eyes assessing you even from afar. it reminds them of something genuine almost, she doesn’t even know they're watching and it makes them want to learn more about you. why do you stand out so much? and why even though they haven’t interacted with you, are you already making the night feel less lonely?

jin chuckled as yoongi finally speaks up, his tongue coming down to lick at his bottom lip collecting a stray drop of alcohol.

“she caught my eye too.” he confesses.

they go quiet for a bit just watching you, feeling that unexplainable pull that took away the heaviness from their chest for a fleeting moment. taehyung grinned, eyes still tracking your movements.

“told you she's something else. makes you wanna know more doesn’t it?”

everything else was put aside, now all their fascination is on you as you continue to work completely unaware.

you leaned over a corner table to set a drink in front of a middle aged man with a sweaty face and bloodshot eyes clearly several drinks past his limit. you were about to turn around to leave but that’s when a meaty hand clamped down hard around your wrist. it happened so suddenly that you jumped, turning around to look at him with wide eyes.

“hey there sweetheart.” he slurred, his breath reeking of whiskey and something stale that made your nose wrinkle. his other hand hovered dangerously near your waist.

“what's a pretty thing like you doing serving drinks when you could be sitting on my lap instead? bet you'd look even better with that skirt hiked up. i could show you a real good time.”

you were used to this. it had happened several times before in this club filled with entitled men who mistook your politeness for availability, thinking that they had free rein to touch you or grope you whenever but bills didn’t care about your comfort or the dread you felt, they demanded payment and this job as risky as it was, was what kept the roof on top of your head and food on the table.

some backed off easily when you threatened to call the manager, a kind hearted woman who had always had your back and also all the other girls who worked alongside you, knowing the difficulty of handling men and got security involved without hesitation. others, the way too gone ones or insistent ones, required her intervention and you'd be so grateful each time the guards kicked them out. still the constant risk gnawed at you. you wondered sometimes what if your manager wasn’t nearby, if things escalated too far before help arrived, you could never protect yourself from these men. you weren’t strong enough.

these days you hated the job more than ever but what choice did you have? it was the curse of never having enough money.

you tried to pull your hand away gently at first, twisting your wrist in his grasp while maintaining that professional smile though it felt strained because of the disgust you felt just from his touch.

“sir please let go, i need to get back to work.” you said evenly even as fear started rising in you. his grip was tightening painfully.

“if you don’t, i'll have to call the manager right now. this isn’t okay.”

but he didn’t listen, leaning closer with his lecherous grin.

“aw come on, don’t be like that baby.”

his crude words continued making your stomach churn as you looked around hastily, no other staff was close enough to notice anything and the music drowned the majority of the noises as genuine fear gripped you, now realizing how trapped you were against the wall and the table’s edge.

from the section overlooking the main floor, all seven of them watched the scene unfold with growing anger but before any of them could react, jungkook's eyes narrowed, his tattooed hand clenching around his glass as he watched the man disrespect you. he didn’t think twice and stood up walking straight up to the table. his hand shot forward from behind the drunk man, yanking his grip away from your wrist with such force that the man stumbled back.

you gasped sharply at the sudden interruption, looking up at the handsome stranger who just became your savior. he radiated such power and fury. the man immediately recoiled as he took in jungkook's tall frame and the glare he had.

“w-what the hell man? this isn't your business.” he sputtered, trying to puff up but clearly intimidated.

“it is now, touch her again and you'll regret it. get your hands off her and fuck off before i make you.”

the man tried to protest, his hand reaching towards you once more and that’s when jungkook's control fully snapped. you watched, eyes wide in horror as jungkook grabbed the man's wrist hard before it could touch you once again and twisted it so hard that the crack of bone was audible even over the club's noise as the man howled in pain, doubling over.

“shut the fuck up!” jungkook growled, not wanting the man's scream to pull even more attention and put you in the spotlight.

“or i'll break the other one too. now leave and don’t even think about coming back here.”

the man now pale faced and squirming in pain, nodded frantically before scrambling away, clutching his injured hand. you watched as he disappeared into the crowd. you stood there frozen for a long moment trying to process what just happened, your heart fluttering.

no one had ever defended you like this before and it was so foreign that you struggled to find words now, not being able to compose yourself.

“i… t-thank you.” you managed shakily as you rubbed your sore wrist absentmindedly.

jungkook's gaze softened as he looked at you, scanning you for any other signs of injury.

“are you okay? are you injured anywhere else?”

you nodded attempting a small smile, not wanting to think about what would happen if he didn’t interfere on time.

“yeah i'm… i'm fine. thank you again really. i appreciate it more than you know.”

“you don’t have to worry anymore, i'm jungkook by the way.” he rasps, holding out his hand for you to shake it.

you stared at it for a bit, your lips parting as you shakily gripped his hand, your hand looking comically small and delicate in his tattooed one. he held your hand in his gently like giving you the free rein to pull back if you want, not the forceful grips that you're so used to.

“y/n.” you breathe, his thumb brushing on the back of your hand in a comforting manner but it instead sends a shiver of thrill down your spine.

how long has it been since a man’s touch excited you instead of making you disgusted? and now with you holding his hand, it made you realize how much you’ve been yearning for it.

“y/n.” he repeats as if tasting your name on his tongue.

the emotions swirling in his eyes almost hold you captivated for a long time before you pull your hand away from his as he studies your face for a long moment.

“you don’t have to go back out there right now.” he starts.

“wanna take a break? come sit with me and my friends over there just for a bit.”

his offer surprised you as you hesitated only briefly, your feet ached in your heels and you'd been working for so long, you didn’t want to lose contact with this stranger named jungkook so soon so you nodded.

“okay a little break sounds good.” you whispered.

jungkook's lips curved as he guided you to the vip section amidst the crowd, his presence parting people like they knew who he was but you still didn’t grasp who he was yet as you stepped inside the area, you paused, recognition finally drawing into you. you'd seen their faces a few times in newspapers or news channels even though you'd never paid enough attention to learn about them in depth.

they were extremely rich, powerful businessmen and they looked so different in real life even more fierce and dominant. six of them lounged across the couches and they were big not just in height and muscularness but also in the aura they exuded. they made you feel small and out of place, they looked you up and down taking in the way your uniform hugged your curves tightly.

their gaze didn’t hold anything lustful but something appreciative like you were truly worth noticing and deserved adoration. it made your stomach twist with a strange heat as you shifted on your feet, smoothing your hands down your uniform self consciously, not knowing how to step past the door but jungkook led you further, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“this is y/n.” jungkook announced to the group as he gestured to you.

“figured she could use a minute away from it all.”

the way the men straightened immediately told that they didn’t mind having you in their space one bit as if they'd been dying to have you near, their eyes locking onto you with undivided attention. one by one they introduced themselves, the one with the broadest shoulders spoke up first.

“i'm kim namjoon. nice to meet you y/n.”

next to him, a man with such perfect handsome features smiled.

“kim seokjin but you can call me jin.”

a bright eyed man leaned forward.

“junghoseok.”

right beside him was the quietest man yet with such a piercing gaze that spoke more about him louder than any words can.

“min yoongi.” he offered a small nod only.

the two other men introduced themselves next, the one with plush kissable lips whose name was jimin and the man who noticed you first, a smirk present on his expression named kim taehyung, a little stubble present on his jawline that made him look even sexier, his voice also the deepest among them.

there was so much masculine energy and the smell of male in this small room that you felt fully surrounded by it in the best way possible and that you might as well have just fainted from how weak in the knees you were. you’ve always been so confident in handling everyone in your job but this was the very first time that you were so fidgety.

“come sit please.”

one of them spoke up and you nodded dumbly before taking a seat on an empty couch right in front of them. you realized quickly with just a little introduction of how different they all were yet fundamentally similar to each other in some way. maybe that’s what deepened their bond so much. the men exchanged glances, their thoughts still clearly fixated on the incident outside.

“fucking prick.” jungkook muttered as he settled near you, cracking his knuckles.

“a guy like that thinks he can grab whoever he wants, i saw red when his hand touched her.”

taehyung nodded, his eyes still on you.

“we all did, no one should have to deal with that shit in their workplace.”

“it's good that you handled it kook. i was so close to beating his ass up too.” namjoon turns to look at you.

“are you sure you're okay?”

their protectiveness made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“yes i'm okay.” you bite your lower lip, looking down at your hands, twisting them together.

you were acutely aware of how their eyes followed your every small movement and the tension was palpable even when there was silence. you noticed one thing, none of them, not once had glanced at the stripper dancing just outside even though the other men were staring at her like a hawk and catcalling her but to these men, it seemed as if she didn’t exist and you were the only center of their attention, like you were the only one that existed in their world.

it was overwhelming.

intoxicating

“so y/n tell us about yourself. how long have you been working here?” jimin broke the silence, wanting to learn more about you.

“i've been working here for a while… pays the bills you know? it's not ideal but it's what i have right now.”

you talked shyly at first but words started flowing more easily than you expected. you shared bits about your long shifts and the exhaustion and how you dreamed of something more stable but life doesn’t always go the way you want it to. they listened intently, asking thoughtful questions as if they really wanted to know more and cared about your life. they also shared about themselves too.

“we just closed a massive deal today… but honestly? it feels empty.” jimin explains.

they looked at you like you were the only spark they'd felt after months, watching you as you laughed lightly at a joke hoseok cracks. you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with pink cheeks when you felt all their eyes on you at once.

“you're cute when you're shy.” seokjin chuckles.

their compliments weren’t crude, they admired your beauty and the efforts you made at your work, your confidence and how despite everything, you were so strong to do this every day.

time seemed to pass by without any of you realizing when the topic turned deeper, they learned of your financial struggles too. you never let anyone know about your weakness but for whatever reason, you trusted them so easily to let the words flow.

“i manage, i make it work somehow.” you shrugged.

their expressions shifted with concern.

“you also don’t have to worry about that guy from earlier bothering you again, he's suspended from his job.” namjoon clarifies.

information on that man was retrieved by the guard outside and namjoon learned that he worked at a measly low grade company that they could probably buy within seconds but they wanted him ruined so they made him lose his job instead with just a few texts, they held the power to do so. seeing him touch you like that pissed the hell out of them.

you paused, blinking in shock.

“what? y-you did that for me? but why? i'm used to it, men are always around in this place so it's nothing new for me.” you croaked.

they reacted immediately as yoongi's jaw clenched.

“used to it? you shouldn’t have to be. no woman deserves to face this every day.” his voice was low with anger while jin's usually light demeanor hardened.

“you're handling all this out there?”

you smiled sadly, looking down at your lap.

“you really didn’t have to do all that for me—”

but jungkook interrupts you before you could finish your words.

“we'd do it again in a heartbeat. you're worth more than being treated like that.”

you swallowed at their words, almost feeling tears brim in your eyes that you pushed back, your heart not being able to handle such affection and possessiveness but in a good way from them, in a way that you’ve never received before in your life. it left you speechless and with a thousand unknown feelings and little did you know that even to them you seemed even more extraordinary than their words could convey as taehyung leans back on the couch, his eyes locked on yours like he hasn’t missed a single word.

“you know.” he starts speaking.

“most people in places like this… they're always acting like someone else but youre just... you, even after a shift like that its nice to see it honestly.”

the others nodded in confirmation, knowing what taehyung means by heart. they've been constantly surrounded by too many fake smiles and even women who have had eyes on their wallets rather than them. they've had countless encounters before with girls trying to be too close to them because of an intention, none of them were honest and wanted them for who they are.

“yeah i get what he means.” hoseok added softly.

“it's just… refreshing talking to you feels normal like actually normal.”

“o-oh?” your heart thuds harder at their words.

“you're honest.” yoongi said simply.

“people don’t really do that much around us anymore.”

“i'm not that special.” you breathe.

“you are y/n.” jungkook glances at you.

“when that guy grabbed you… you were about to handle it even before i intervened. you're tougher than you look.”

you're the kind of woman who could bring kings to their knees without even trying, that's how they saw you. they made you feel desired, not merely physically but as someone captivating in her entirety, your your smiles and beauty and your confidence mixed with shyness, they loved everything.

you felt this certain heat all over you that pulled you towards them, your legs clenching together and that didn’t go unnoticed at all. sensing the shift and needing a moment to compose yourself amid the overwhelming feeling, you offered them a slightly breathless smile.

“um do you all want some drinks? i can go get a fresh round.” you offered, noting how all their glasses were empty but that none of them seemed even the slightest bit drunk because of how well they were at handling alcohol.

they nodded in agreement and you rose from the couch, feeling their eyes follow every movement as you turned, feeling their stares caressing the curves on your back and it made goosebumps of excitement rise up on you as you walked to the bar, almost hurrying to be back to them, not wanting to waste any second with them.

returning moments later with a tray balanced with their liquors of choice but nothing too heavy, you felt the intensity multiply upon re entering their space. you set the tray down on the low table slowly which required you to bend forward but you did so almost intentionally and coyly so that they'd get a good view of your cleavage. doing a subtle arch of your back that allowed the already short skirt to ride up exposing the curve of your ass, you heard sharp intakes of their breaths and that makes your heart pound harder.

your uniform was so short that you'd always avoid bending down but doing so in front of them made you feel wanted. your cleavage pressed forward against your top, the soft swells visible for the men in front invitingly.

“damn y/n...” jungkook breathed first as he shifted in his seat.

“are you trying to kill us bending over like that?” jimin lets out an appreciative hum, not complaining one bit to have you like that while hungrily tracing your figure.

“she's perfect isn't she?” namjoon murmurs quietly.

seeing you like this is stirring things they haven't felt in ages. you bite back a grin when you hear yoongi let out a growl when he catches a glimpse of your white lace panties. your thighs pressed together subtly as you straightened, feeling exposed yet empowered.

you handed each of them a glass, jin's fingers brush yours when grabbing the glass and the contact makes you gasp.

“easy guys, we've got all night.”

what started as conversations and shared stories had slowly turned into something deeper as the tension and intimacy grew that none of you could deny it anymore. there wasn't anything normal anymore, there was too much need and their eyes were growing increasingly hooded. it was like both of you guys were in a game wanting to see who'd break first and take what they need, challenging each other through eyes alone. jin was the first one to break, not being able to fight the pull anymore.

“come here y/n.”

you watched him manspreading so sexily as he patted his thigh and you let out a shy smile, standing up almost immediately to walk to him. he guides you onto his thick thigh, his large hand resting at your lower back, the heat of his body and his scent make you tremble as you place a hand on his chest. sitting on his lap made your skirt ride up and you made no move to fix it, your feet dangling off the ground because of the height difference with jin and not only him but also all the other six of them were just so huge especially namjoon, whom you guessed was the tallest of all.

you felt a subtle shift of his muscles as he adjusted, supporting your weight with literally no effort. the others watched with appreciative eyes, already jealous that jin gets to have you so close at first, their focus on the cigarettes and drinks was completely forgotten.

“are you comfortable like this y/n?” jin rasps leaning closer, his warm breath hitting your ear.

his hand stayed put, thumb rubbing circles against your thigh and you nodded jerkily, the proximity making it hard for you to breathe. you forgot about the club, the music outside. it was just the seven of them who were pulling you in their spell even deeper. then taehyung, not being able to help himself, leaned forward from his seat.

“can i kiss you sweetheart?” he asked directly, eyes searching yours for any hesitation.

the way he asked for consent made you flush, you were not used to it at all and it only made your need bubble higher and more fiercely.

“yes please.” you plead.

he closed the distance slowly, his hand cupping your jaw before his lips met yours right there with you still on jin's lap. it started soft but quickly deepened, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth before slipping inside making you moan into it which he swallowed. the breathy sound began to ignite something in all of them because even if your eyes were closed, you could sense their expressions.

the kiss was unhurried, he took his time exploring every inch of your mouth as both your salivas intertwined. he tasted like something entirely different like dark chocolate. his fingers threaded through your hair and he pulled back his eyes half lidded and breathing unevenly.

“fuck you taste good.” he mutters, thumb brushing your swollen lower lip.

hoseok joined right after taehyung, sliding closer on the couch, looking at your lips with dark eyes, wanting permission without any words and you reached for him grabbing the collar of his shirt. while your other hand pressed harder on jin's chest for balance, fisting his shirt. the makeout with hoseok was different, it was hungrier like he couldn’t get enough as he sucked your bottom lip and you let out a louder whimper.

“mmph!”

jin's hand on your back slides lower, brushing against your butt and it makes you shiver, your bottom pressing harder on his thigh. he rearranges you until you are straddling one of his thighs, only causing the entire pressure on your clothed pussy alone making you squeal. you shifted on his thigh to chase more of that friction, your skirt now rode up further revealing your lace panties fully.

one by one they each took their moment and kiss until you were surrounded by heated touches and kisses. namjoon cradled the back of your head as he explored your mouth thoroughly.

“you're so responsive baby.” yoongi growls against your throat, all the men enjoying your cute little noises.

he takes his turn too. yoongi's kiss was full of bites and clashes of teeth from how impatient he was that you were afraid your lips would start bleeding from how he wouldn’t let go. jimin placed slow open mouthed kisses on your neck and jawline while the others observed what made you moan and squirm. like the expert jimin was, he immediately found the sensitive spot below your ear and locked his mouth there to suck a mark while you struggled to breathe into yoongi's mouth.

jungkook held you in place with a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly and his kiss was a bit more rough while he took your mouth like he was starving for it.

jimin took his turn too, sweetly.

their hands roaming everywhere they could find every exposed skin, gripping your waist or thigh, getting busy making out with you or leaving hickies on your throat and cleavage while your hips twitched occasionally on jin's thigh. your lips remained parted, tongues tangling lewdly with each of the men. jin takes your mouth and sucks on your tongue making you whine and rock on his thigh, his hand fully cupping your butt, encouraging you to grind harder.

“u-uh…”

you whined as jungkook's hand caressed your inner thighs so close to your panties. your body responded eagerly, nipples hardening as you pulled away from jin's mouth, panting hard from all their devoted attention feeling yourself melt into a puddle just from touches and kisses alone. you squirmed on jin's thigh, feeling his hard muscle flex beneath you.

the other men breathed heavily too, chests rising and falling, your whimpers and their rough breaths the only sound that could be heard. they were visibly affected too and you could feel the growing hardness pressing against your thigh from jin. their eyes roamed your flushed face and how kiss swollen your lips were, their jaws clenching as after a particularly heated kiss with jimin that left you gasping you pulled back slightly.

a sudden wave of nervousness took over you. the vip room was private, not see through from the outside yet it made you pause when you realized what you were doing in the haze.

“i… i don't do this.” you whispered shakily, glancing towards the door.

“my shift isn’t even over, i should go back out there. this isn’t… i'm not that kind of girl.”

you’ve never slept with anyone here in the club, probably the last time you had sex was years ago with your ex and the heartbreak of it never led you forward to another relationship even though your body pined for the touch of a man who made you feel wanted in every way and for the first time in years, they made you feel that. never in your dreams would you have assumed that it would be seven of them doing so.

the men looked at you but there was no judgment, only understanding and want as jin's hand stayed comfortingly on your back.

“we stop whenever you say but fuck.. we want you, not just like this but more.” taehyung growls in that deep husky voice of his that makes you weak in the knees.

“yeah exactly…” namjoon added.

“you make us feel alive again and we don’t just want a quick thrill here, we want you for the whole night.”

you made the fire in their veins rise once again after years, you made them forget the hollow feeling they’ve been carrying, it eased the second you walked in here even though you were hesitant, your body betrayed you, shifting again on jin's lap and feeling that delicious friction.

“but why me? i'm just… me, a waitress. you guys could have anyone, someone who fits better with your world. i don’t understand.”

the insecurity was evident in your voice and you didn’t understand why they'd want you and care so much when they could have someone of high class. women probably threw themselves at them every day yet they looked at you like this. they look at you like you are the center of their universe. jungkook cupped your cheek, making you face him so you could see the sincerity visible on his expression.

“because none of that other shit matters. you caught our attention because you're you, it feels right and it’s the best thing ever.”

hoseok grinned, tracing a finger along your arm.

“and we can see you want this too baby, those pretty eyes of yours are telling us everything… the little hitch in your breathing.”

your bottom lip quivers at their words as your thighs clench around jin's thigh, the action pulling a small wanton noise from you.

“let us give you the best night of your life sweet girl.”

you remained quiet even if your hand clung onto jin's chest hard

“please?” he breathes.

they dominated everyone, high status companies and billions, yet for you they'd be ready to beg on their knees. your body ached for them but most importantly, it was your heart too that was screaming at you to say yes.

namjoon leans close to you, the tempting column of his throat exposed from where you'd pulled at his shirt while kissing.

“you don't have to decide right now but... come home with us tonight.” namjoon said with such genuineness and the others nodded with him. they murmured their approvals in a chorus as jimin's eyes locked onto yours, seriousness in his expression now.

“no pressure at all beautiful, it's whatever you want…”

they knew one thing for sure, they couldn’t forget the way you looked at them and the way your body responds to every little touch. it makes them want to know how you'd react to touches at your most private places. hoseok reaches out to brush a lock of hair from your face.

“we've got a black card here, if you need anything, leave this job and take this. come with us whatever that helps you feel secure.” he whispers.

it wasn’t about buying you with the card, it was about wanting to give you the world because you deserve it. all their words made your chest tighten with emotions.

you sat there stunned as you thought of their offer. the black card in hoseok's hand represented everything, a lifetime of not worrying about bills, living with no fear of not making ends meet and being able to breathe without feeling like you have to survive but more than that, it was them and you knew money or no money, you wanted this, wanted all seven of them so you made your decision in a heartbeat.

“i… i agree.” you whispered at first almost quietly before finding a bit more strength at their encouragement.

“yes i'll come with you.”

their reactions were immediate as they let out chuckles. yoongi's hand squeezed your knee and he let out the first real grin since he came here.

“that's our girl. fuck you have no idea how happy that makes us.”

getting praised by yoongi made your clit throb, your face falling on his chest as you nuzzled against it while jin rubbed up and down your back.

“we'll take care of everything, you don’t have to worry.” jin confirms.

with the decision made, they didn’t wait any longer, wanting to have you in their place so they could claim you there with all the time in the world. they guided you out of the vip section with possessive hands at your waist. your heart raced so fast you could feel it in your throat and you felt like it might burst right open.

you spotted your manager near the bar, her eyes widening when she saw you flanked by the seven most well known business owners whose faces had been everywhere. she straightened up instantly not finding words, instantly terrified of what might happen as they stopped in front of her.

“she's not working here anymore.” namjoon stated firmly, his arm slipping around your shoulder.

“y/n is coming with us. consider her shift over permanently, we'll handle any necessary paperwork if needed later.”

your manager blinked rapidly, clearly intimidated but nodded quickly.

“o-of course sir, y/n take care of yourself.”

she shot you a quick look but the men's presence left no room for her to question anything else while you still couldn’t grasp the reality fully. feeling freedom and disbelief all at once.

they led you outside to the waiting matte black limo which was pure luxury, starting from the exterior to the interior. they helped you inside and once the door closed, the vehicle started moving and just along with that, their hands on you were at full force.

this time yoongi didn’t hesitate and pulled you onto his lap first, gripping your hips as he ate at your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours drawing out whimpers as the others shifted closer. jimin's hand slid up to cup your breast through the fabric of your uniform making your back arch even through layers of clothing, their touches felt so prominent.

you didn’t know what would happen once you reached their penthouse and they wouldn’t hold back anymore. hoseok sucks and bites on the side of your neck while jungkook placed a loving kiss against your cheek, his eyes blazing as the ride felt too long because of of what was to come.

“can't wait to have you spread out for us at home.”

you couldn’t wait either.

the limo pulled in front of their penthouse and you stepped out on shaky legs still buzzing from their heated touches that had filled the ride over.

the door opened, welcoming you inside the open living room before you could admire the poshness and extravagance of the place, you were surrounded by all seven of them, their presences closing in like a wall of dominance until you were fully trapped between them. like seven predators closing in on their little prey and they wouldn’t let you go easily especially when there was so much impatience and all the teasings from earlier had left everyone on edge and frustrated.

jin and jimin positioned themselves on either side of you immediately, their breaths ghosting over your skin as hoseok's hand boldly slid under the hem of your uniform, tracing your skin and the skin around your belly button.

“you're so damn soft.” hoseok murmured huskily.

jin's lips found the curve of your neck, placing delicate kisses along your throat, tongue darting out to taste your skin while jimin mirrored him on the other side, alternating between pecks and nips that made you gasp softly. they went oh so slow as if they wanted to memorize every inch of you with just their hands alone, pulling you deeper into their circle.

“look at her already trembling for us.”

jimin whispers against your ear before capturing your lips in a hot kiss, his tongue making that sex act of thrusting in and out that left your knees weak, your hand grasping onto one of their shirts.

“can i?” taehyung gruffs out.

his gaze never left yours as he reached for the zipper at the back of your dress.

“y-yes.” you stuttered, letting out excited huffs of breath.

his fingers worked it down slowly while his mouth sucked on the exposed cleavage of your breast as the fabric parted, revealing the expanse of your back and all seven men watched with rapt attention, their fists clenching in need. you could see their hard cocks straining against their suit pants.

namjoon stands behind you now while yoongi leans against the couch with a smirk enjoying the scene, his arms crossed, eyes devouring every revealed inch, jungkook's hand brushed your hair aside to help taehyung pull the zipper down properly as the dress finally slips down your arms and pools at your feet, leaving you in just your heels, stockings and those tiny lacy white panties, your uniform didn’t need a bra so your breasts jiggle free, making them all groan in unison at the sight. your hand instinctively goes up to cover yourself but taehyung holds it, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a kiss against the back of your hand.

“don't hide from us… god you're perfect.”

you let out a needy moan at his words and how they traced every inch of you with such fascination that you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world and most worshipped. you never thought one could be worshipped with eyes alone and for the first time, you also believed that you could feel perfect… because when you viewed yourself through their eyes, you indeed felt that.

“you look like a dream.” seokjin grumbles.

their praises seemed to reach every corner of your soul. they didn’t take off the panties wanting to admire you like this first, watching the way your nubs were pointed in the air into twin peaks the more as cool air brushed against them.

“we've wanted this since we saw you out there…”

namjoon rumbled, his fingers brushing your spine while yoongi stepped closer, his cold facade cracking as he ran a hand down your side making you lean onto him while panting.

“fuck these curves…”

you were driving him fully insane, their chests puffed up because you were letting them see you like this, your body a bit squirmy at first from being bare in front of them while they're all fully clothed but slowly adapting confidence from their words. all their hands joined in touching you until you couldn’t tell them apart anymore, gliding over every curve, caressing your breasts while thumbs brushed against the nipples.

“oh… hahh.” you whined, your head falling back on jimin's shoulder, your panties wetly clinging to your folds as you clenched your legs together hard but it did little to relieve your ache.

hoseok drops to his knees to kiss along the tops of your stockings while his cock throbs inside his pants, the smell of your arousal hitting him so directly that his nostrils flare but before they could start properly and things could escalate further, they all paused suddenly making you look at them with confusion, your breasts rising and falling. they had to force their eyes from your blossoms to speak to you.

“we need to hear it from you y/n. are you sure about this? fully sure?” namjoon asks.

“i am sure.”

you crooned, your lips forming a pout due to them suddenly stopping and it makes their eyes narrow at how the sweet action pulled at their heartstrings. they'd do anything you asked if you gave them those eyes and that expression but they need to finalize a few things.

“you can use the safe word anytime, red for stopping completely, yellow to slow down and green to keep going yeah?”

you nodded, seeing the care in their faces even in between so much tension and need.

“we've seen how men treat you at the club… so we won't do anything without your consent. we want you so bad but only if you want us just as much.” jungkook rasps.

you didn’t know if you'd ever felt so valued and safe before in front of men and it makes tears of gratefulness well in your eyes as you pressed yourself closer to them, giving your body to them fully.

“i've never been more sure in my life. i want all of you please… please.”

you whimper, feeling their chest and nuzzling against taehyung who is in front of you now and he makes a low noise right beside your ear. they were ready to lose themselves in you completely, all their restraints and control gone.

you were laid back on the couch in the center of the room as you looked up at them, nervousness yet anticipation in you, your body already hypersensitive from being touched. jin leans down to your right side when he cups the underside of one of your breasts, feeling its weight. his thumb flicked it, your nipple hardening even more under his ministrations. you felt his touches all the way down to your clit.

“oh god…”

a squeal left you when taehyung left wet kisses along the side of your other breast, not wanting to keep your other breast neglected before he captured the peak between his lips, sucking at first then with more pressure while jin's skilled pinching and rolling combined with taehyung's warm suction. your back arched off the couch as your breaths came out in short gasps, every pull of tongue and twist of fingers on both your nipples drew involuntary moans from your throat.

the others watched everything, their own need evident as they shifted closer even though taehyung and jin were having their moment, the hands of others would occasionally brush your arms or thighs in reassurance.

“ahh.”

you let out a particularly loud moan as taehyung bites slightly on your nipple before soothing it with laps of his tongue making you feel heady as seokjin's mouth joined too, leaving your breasts wet with saliva. your breasts were like a glistening playground of sensation.

“ahh… jin taehyung… it feels so good.” you whimpered, your hand gripping onto the couch from the pleasure. jin lifted his head briefly, his lips shiny.

“yeah? you like when we suck on these pretty tits baby?

“it makes your pussy feel good mhmm?” he asks.

taehyung hummed in agreement, switching to light nibbles and soothing licks, their words making you even more horny as you nodded dumbly.

“she's dripping so much just from getting her nipples played with… just look at that wet patch.”

jungkook comments, all their eyes falling on your panty covered cunt where a damp spot had started forming from the amount of arousal you leaked and the white lingerie made everything see through. meanwhile, namjoon began kissing torturously down your stomach, his tongue leaving a trail as shivers race up your spine as he worshipped your belly, circling his tongue around your belly button. when his teeth scraped a certain ticklish spot, it made you giggle and you grabbed onto taehyung's shirt who was beside you.

“mm…”

taehyung grinned at your giggle while namjoon glowed softly.

“so beautiful, every inch of you.”

he praised, nipping just below your navel. your legs couldn’t stay spread, feeling a little shy from the copious amount of essence you were leaking and also from the building ache but hoseok and jungkook didn’t let you hide away so easily, holding one leg apart, each opening you completely to their gaze. jungkook leaned in first, pressing his face close to your soaked panties inhaling deeply with a guttural groan.

“shitt she smells so good.”

he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your covered core making you twitch.

“i know right?” hoseok adds, already too obsessed from earlier after getting a waft of your pussy when he was so close to it. jungkook begins kissing and sucking marks onto your inner thighs, starting high near the crease and working inward, each harsh suck leaving reddish hickeys.

“j-jungkook..” you stammered as his tongue avoided your pussy entirely and focused around it, only puffs of air hitting it and you squirmed helplessly as hoseok's fingers dug in near your panties.

“spread wider for us princess, let us see how much you need this.” hoseok encouraged when your thighs trembled.

jimin and yoongi were the only ones left to join and they didn't hesitate anymore. their fingers joining to touch you over your panties, fingers expertly finding your swollen clit through the lace.

you whimpered, the pressure was never enough to push you over the edge but just enough to keep you teetering on the brink. jimin's touch was precise, he used the pads of his fingers to rub tight patterns between your folds that made your hips buck, with taehyung and jin watching your pleasured expressions with focused intensity.

“feel that sweetheart?”

yoongi asks as he flicks your clit side to side.

“hmm?” he persists when you don't reply, pressing his thumb against your clit even harder and it felt so much even without them touching you directly.

“y-yes haggh.” you mewled.

yoongi presses the fabric against your folds, rubbing up and down the length of your slit until the lace lewdly sticks between your pussy lips.

“listen to those sounds she's making… fuck.”

seokjin and taehyung conversed among themselves, their eyes focused on your pussy and what the other men were doing and it makes you even more excited if that was even possible, there was something so naughty about having the others comment on you while you were being touched as if there was an audience itself. it doubled the sensations for you as jin and taehyung occasionally tweaked your nubs just to hear you gasp between your moans from the maddening clit rubs that left your pussy clenching, your arousal coating your inner thighs messily now. you couldn't take their teasing anymore as your head thrashes.

“please goshh more... i need more.” you begged breathlessly, not being able to stay still.

jimin offered two fingers, pressing them against your lips.

“open up baby. suck them like you mean it.” he instructed.

you obeyed, eagerly opening your mouth as he slid them past your lips. you swirled your tongue around his fingers, hollowing your cheeks as you bobbed your head slightly. the others watched intently, already imagining you sucking their cocks exactly like this and all their cocks twitched inside their pants while jimin groaned at the wet feeling of your mouth, his eyes growing half lidded wondering how his cock would feel inside your mouth.

“look at that mouth working so well.” jungkook added.

he pushed in his own fingers right next to jimin's, pushing his tattooed fingers so deep that it brushed the back of your throat, his fingers giving slight thrusts as tears brimmed your eyes trying not to gag.

“just like that, get them nice and wet for us.” jimin murmurs.

jin grabs ahold of your hair, not enough to hurt but hard enough to make you feel the slight pain mixed with pleasure as he pulls your mouth to him for a sloppy passionate kiss that leaves you dizzy, swallowing all your noises. you made a throaty sound when jungkook's fingers finally left your mouth, his eyes focusing on your pussy, not being able to stand seeing it covered anymore and from the state of others around, they're impatient as well.

he went down your body as you watched with wide eyes but instead of using his hands to slide them off, he leaned down, your breathing growing ragged. with a dirty glint in his eyes, he caught the edge of the panty between his teeth and began to tug them downwards slowly making the fabric peel away from your core with a wet sound.

your pussy now fully exposed to the seven men and jin and taehyung also joined the others below to look at you making your cheeks flame from the vulnerability of it all and how exposed you felt while two of them spread your legs further until you were eagle spread, your folds parted as well, the soaked panty dragging along your thighs, leaving a trail of your own slickness. your entire body trembles as the cool air hits your center. the panties finally slip past your ankles and jungkook tosses them aside with a satisfied growl.

all of them leaned in closer where you lay bare as if inspecting you and it makes your brow furrow, heart pounding hard. you've never felt more exposed at once while your clit throbbed helplessly. they let out a mix of curses and loud exhales. their eyes held something else entirely, it went far beyond lust like they wanted to eat you whole and never stop. you felt like you were surrounded by seven hungry wolves and you'd give yourself up to them willingly. namjoon's breath hitched audibly, his large hands clenching at his sides as if fighting the urge to touch immediately.

“fuck...” he murmurs.

they'd never seen anything more perfect, it was like you were a work of art.

you were bare except for your thigh stockings and your heels. jin lets out a hum, his plush lips parting as he stared. your folds were swollen and parted slightly to reveal your labia and your gaping entrance, the clit on top shiny from your arousal and throbbing under their gaze. it was as if they were touching you from their stares alone and they hadn't even touched you yet.

“look at how she's clenching around nothing. fuck that's so hot... you're so empty aren't you angel?” jimin asks so adoringly that you let out another soft sound at his endearment.

taehyung stared in awe as he tilted his head, it was as if your pussy itself was begging for their tongues and fingers on its own. they've never wanted anyone more, it was like you're the only woman in the world. they've always appreciated a female body but their bodies never reacted in such a way. they were never so mesmerized. they wanted to learn more about what made you moan or cry, where you liked being touched, what made you giggle and most importantly, what made your precious heart happy.

jimin chuckled with admiration when he saw you hiding your face between your hands because of how overwhelmed you felt from all their eyes on you at once.

“hey baby...”

he removed your hands from your face and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“don't be shy… you're stunning. look at how hard you make us just from staring at you.”

your eyes fall on their tented bulge and it makes you exhale shakily, it was the proof of how true their words were and it gives you a little more strength. yoongi's tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“i bet she tastes even better than she looks.” he comments, tilting his head making your breath hitch.

jungkook still positioned closest, looked up at you with those piercing eyes. you gulped, feeling your stomach flutter.

“i... i've never had anyone look at me like this.” you whispered, trying to find words to say what you truly wanted.

“especially not all of you, i-it feels… too much but good. i feel wanted.. really wanted.”

your pussy gave a clench along with your words, drawing another groan from them by the sight of it and from your words.

“do you want me to eat your pussy baby? nice and slow mm?”

you nodded desperately and jungkook didn't waste time and dived in first, his tongue pressing against your entrance, dragging upward in one lap stroke all the way up to your clit.

“ahhh mm fuck—”

you squeaked at the sensation of his tongue and lip piercing combined and he let out a hiss at the taste. he took his time, eyes locked intensely on yours the entire time, never breaking contact as he repeated the motion, savoring every drop of you like it was the finest wine. the pressure was perfect, not too light and not too rough yet enough to make your hips jerk and your hands fist into the cushions beneath you.

“she tastes incredible joon.” he murmurs to namjoon beside him. you squirm at the feeling of the cool metal of his piercing hitting your clit.

you tasted sweet and tangy at once, it was everything.

your eyes fall closed, not being able to keep them open as your head falls back in sensation. jungkook paused, biting onto your inner thigh, making you gasp as your eyes pop open.

“look at me while i taste you or i stop.” he threatened.

you let out a long moan and kept your teary eyes open, the touches of others sending jolts straight to where jungkook was eating you. namjoon groped one of your breasts, squeezing it while hoseok rubbed his still clothed cock against your thigh not being able to help himself. a damn spot formed on his pants from the precum.

“you want a taste too?”

jungkook smirked at taehyung, who was watching him eat at you with hungry focused eyes and jungkook moved aside to let taehyung have a chance. his tongue felt different, slow yet so deep as he traced every fold with the tip of his tongue. he suckled gently on your clit, humming around it to make your toes curl. your pussy was blooming more and more for them.

“i could do this for hours mmm.” he moaned against you, his tongue dipping inside your hole a bit to collect your fluids.

during all these, your legs were held open so they could eat your pussy with no resistance at all. namjoon's mouth was on your breast now, replacing his hands sucking on your nipple and also leaving a hickey on the underside of it while yoongi watched everything with hooded eyes, squeezing himself over his pants.

“pleaseee!”

you whined loudly, pressing your hips harder towards taehyung's face, feeling yourself getting close but he pulled back slightly with a chuckle looking down at you.

“not yet darling, we all have to have a taste first don't we?”

from his words you knew that the torture was just beginning and you already felt like you'd cum but they were just beginning, they were about to take their sweet time. jimin pressed his mouth against you giving you teasing flicks of his tongue across your clit quickly that built the pressure rapidly before pulling back, leaving you whining pathetically and he almost felt bad but he enjoyed teasing you.

“aww.” jimin cooed, wickedness present as the others smirked.

“you want more don't you? but this pussy is too good to rush.” he rasps, catching a droplet of your arousal that leaks with the tip of his tongue.

in the meantime, jungkook and hoseok latched onto your nipples, simultaneously sucking and biting while their hands roamed your body taking the chance to discover your breasts too since they didn't before and you grabbed onto their hair, holding them to your chest while sobbing. yoongi grunted, watching your pussy while the denial makes your body shake. the room filled with your breathy moans and the wet sound of their mouths working on your body.

namjoon was the first to slide his fingers along your mound and his intentions make you pant as his middle finger presses against your clit, a needy whimper leaving you.

“so fucking wet baby. this pussy's been begging since the club hasn’t it?”

“want it uh…” you whined needily.

taehyung ran two of his long fingers along your outer lips, spreading them apart with his thumbs so namjoon and he could see every slick detail making your thighs quake.

“feel that? she's pulsing so much.” namjoon observed.

you moaned loudly, head falling back when namjoon's fingers breached your entrance before dipping inside so slowly while taehyung continued his exploration on the outer part of you. the feeling of having something inside you from them even if it's just one finger, felt heavenly almost euphoric as he curled his finger immediately against that spongy spot inside you.

“oh god… oh please.”

you let out brokenly your hand fisting jungkook's hair, who still lets little licks on your sensitive nipple. jimin chuckled, his fingers replacing taehyung's on your clit as namjoon added a second finger, scissoring them to open you up as you bit your lip to stifle the cries that were trying to escape and they didn’t like that one bit, they didn’t like you holding back in any way.

“let us hear you princess. don't hold back… that’s it.”

your lips parted to quiet little “ah ah ahs” as namjoon pumped two of his fingers while jimin and taehyung took turns flicking your clit up and down, side to side, whatever motion they desired. your arousal coated their hands and dripped down to soak the couch. your eyes widen when hoseok's hand joins namjoon's, his fingers teasing your entrance around namjoon's thrusting fingers. namjoon's lips curl up as he makes space for hoseok's, whose two fingers slide inside you so easily considering how wet you were.

“nghh oh god i—”

your words cut off in a cry as you felt your pussy stretch and accommodate four fingers. their fingers were already so thick that you were stretched beyond imagination, stretched more than even dicks alone had done to you from just their fingers. you couldn’t imagine what their cocks would do to you then. the burn was delicious, your hips rocked against them chasing the pleasure, feeling your orgasm get so close.

“unngh!”

you bite onto jungkook's clothed chest because he was the closest beside your head making him fist your hair.

“come on boys, make her feel it.”

he grins, earning aroused laughs from namjoon and hoseok. both their fingers curled against your g-spot while taehyung pressed his thumb on your clit, holding it there with a blinding pressure that has your eyes rolling back. your pussy clenching continuously on their invading fingers as they wiggled and twisted their finger inside you as if they were searching for something deep inside you and your legs thrashed, not being able to take too much.

“shhh… you're going so good.”

taehyung soothes you, sensing the overload of sensations. you cried out, back almost lifting off the couch despite the men holding you from all around, your walls fluttering wildly around the intrusion.

“yess fuckk, ah r-right there!”

you wanted more and wanted to escape at once, your mind couldn't catch up from the stretch and the curl, the constant pressure on your clit from multiple hands now taking turns also your breasts never being left alone. you didn’t even realize when namjoon and hoseok left your pussy so that jungkook's three fingers could take place inside you almost immediately, they slid in with no effort as he pumped them roughly.

squelch. squelch. squelch.

it makes loud wet noises that seem to override even your moans and gasps and the men around you groan at the noises too, a pained look on all their faces from holding back. jungkook watched your face contort in ecstasy, his jaw clenched.

“atta girl, squeezing so tight around me, so damn hot… yess.”

he hisses, his thighs starting to grind against the corner of the couch, wanting stimulation from how crazy you are driving him. jin watched everything with dark eyes rubbing against your inner thighs.

“you ready for two more fingers baby?”

jin asks, stroking one of your butt cheeks as you watch him with a swallow, wondering how you'd take two more fingers while jungkook had three inside already but your orgasm was so close you couldn’t think straight and by the way, your pussy was gaping, you wanted more.

“y-y-yes.” you stammered nervously.

“i'll be gentle yeah?” he coaxes.

slowly jin penetrated two of his fingers alongside jungkook's three moving ones, basically fisting you and you let out a loud cry, your toes curling.

“oh god, oh god.” you chanted.

they all watched the way your pussy accommodated several fingers, lips parting hungrily while you were a mess beneath them. they moved their fingers in and out slowly now, mindful of the fullness in a rhythm that had your juices overflowing with pornographic sounds leaving you. your thighs trembled hard and uncontrollably as you struggled to breathe, choking on your saliva.

“i-i can't... it's too much.. feels so good.”

the others paused their actions just to watch jungkook and jin having their moment, hitting your spots relentlessly. taehyung pressed down on your lower belly to heighten every sensation and to feel their fingers moving inside you. your hips bucked wildly but strong hands pinned you down, forcing you to take every bit of pleasure they gave and it was building higher and higher without mercy.

“ah please please let me cum! i need it, i'm so close hahngh.”

you babbled, not even making sense, your hand gripping hoseok's shirt so hard that it ripped, buttons flying all over. the orgasm was so close to hitting you and that's when they decided to stop altogether, fingers leaving your cunt and their touches stopping.

“noooo why?”

you sobbed out tears streaming down your face now. it was as if someone had just snatched your high from you after so long and it left you heartbroken and your body aching.

“we've got you baby.” jimin murmurs soothingly, his hand rubbing circles on your belly while you try to recover from the denial.

amidst that, taehyung had gone upstairs to grab a bottle of lube from a drawer before walking back downstairs, it's like they knew exactly what they planned to do. taehyung's eyes met yours with a smile that somehow made even this intimidating moment feel safe.

“you ever had your ass played with sweetheart?”

jungkook questions and you flush at the question, the hint of what's about to happen making you restless.

“i-i yes… i did touch myself a few times but i didn't have anyone inside t-there.” you stuttered shyly.

you had experimented and fingered yourself on your back hole during moments of need all alone, you even tried butt plugs but that was pretty much it. you weren't so experienced because no one had you there before.

“yeah? do you want us to be your first?” taehyung questions.

you huffed, leaning onto taehyung, your lips falling onto his throat and sucking a mark.

“just make me cum please.” you sign.

“fuck anything you want sweet baby.” he grunts.

their hands are already soothing over your thighs and palms spreading your legs wider, pressing them upward and against your breasts to give them better access to your lower portion.

“we'll go slow okay?”

hoseok's palm stroked the inside of your knee while jungkook's hand rested on your hip. you shuddered from a mix of nerves and arousal. you felt thrilled and excited for what was to come even despite the fact that they didn't let you cum.

yoongi grabs the lube from taehyung, his eyes falling on you, looking almost feral. he had been controlling himself all this time, watching the others have their fun with you while he didn't intervene at all because he was the type to strike at the right time and also because he wanted the part of you that no one took first so he'd held back. your heart races as you look at him lean over you, your hand gripping his shoulder on its own.

yoongi always did the most calculative unthinkable moves and when he attacked, it was always in the most intense way. he drizzled the lube, making the liquid trickle slowly over your tight asshole, you gasp at the sudden unfamiliar sensation.

“breathe for me, in and out.” he instructed and you tried following him, breathing in and out. he circled the pad of his finger around the puckered rim not pushing in yet, just feeling around.

“mmmmm… yeah…”

his free hand rubbed circles on your thigh, coaxing you to relax.

“you're doing so good already.”

jimin murmurs, leaning in closer from the other side, adding more lube with his fingers. it mixed with the juices already leaking from your pussy making everything even more slick while their eyes watched every twitch of your body and the moans that left you.

“ahh... it's cold but feels… good gahh.”

you whimpered, your hips shifting slightly as namjoon held one of your legs steady. they worked you open with patience. multiple fingers from different men joined in. yoongi's thumb continued rubbing over your rim along with jungkook's finger.

“oh—!”

you squealed as taehyung's two fingers sank back into your pussy, doing that scissoring motion making you sob. it seemed more intensified because of your rear being touched.

“fuck she's so tight back here.” jungkook groans and yoongi nods in acknowledgement before slowly pushing the tip of his finger inside as you tense.

“relax just let me in...” yoongi rasps.

you gripped his wrist, whining, trying to not clench too hard while hoseok grabs your thigh, stroking your skin to distract you from any discomfort. yoongi's finger sank deeper and the lube made him sink all the way in so suddenly that you cried out raw.

“oh god... h-hahh.”

yoongi cursed at the feeling of how tight you are.

“color?”

he asks, your bottom lip quivers at his caring tone despite how long he'd held back.

“g-green.”

you gasped and he smirked slowly, starting to pump his fingers while jimin and jungkook touched around your stretched rim or your clit while taehyung still had his fingers pumping, both of them delivering careful thrusts. there was pleasure, pain and so so much ecstasy. you never thought getting fingered on the pussy and ass could feel so good as you couldn't stop moaning. namjoon's mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hard while his tongue flicked the sensitive nipple.

“haah… haah…”

you felt like you'd burst when hoseok leaned closer to your pussy to lick at it, flicking it over your clit. the dual assault combined with the fingers till stretching and pumping inside both your holes was mind shattering and you could barely think straight. namjoon's suction on your nipple intensified, teeth grazing while the others held your legs open, preventing you from closing them against the overwhelming stimulation. yoongi's fingers curled inside your ass, touching the spot that you didn't even know existed and his fingers were extra long, as were taehyung's and both of them continued fucking you with them.

“ah-ah-ah-ah—fuck!”

you saw stars behind your eyelids with tongues on your pussy and the slide of fingers knuckle deep in your ass and cunt and the pull on your breasts. your nipples felt like they were on fire from the constant sucks and bites they received, they were swollen and almost reddened. all of the several sensations were about to do it for you.

“please… p-please! i can't...”

your voice breaks into a series of whimpers.

“i'm gonna... i need to cum... ahh please let me cum!”

they didn't stop their movements at all, drawing it out even slower to heighten the peak.

“yeah?”

he curled his fingers again and again just to see you tremble.

“you only get to cum when we say so.”

jungkook rasps against your clit before sucking into it even harder between his lips, humming vibrations through it making you twitch and wail out.

“please please.” you chant, your head thrashing side to side.

hoseok licks you all over, lapping at the lube and your juices mixed together. namjoon switched to your other nipple, biting down gently while his other hand massaged the first breast. the pressure built unbearably. your asshole and pussy clenching around the digits, every muscle in your body tensed, toes cuddling in your heels as the orgasm finally crashed over you with their permission.

“that's it, let go. cum for us.” yoongi commanded softly, his hand stroking your thigh.

your first orgasm of the night ripped through you and it was more intense than anything you've felt, the first best orgasm of your life. your pussy gushed around taehyung's fingers and your ass spasmed around yoongi's while you screamed, body shaking violently.

“ahh! fuckkk.”

you cursed as you saw stars behind your eyelids while they continued licking and fingering you through it. spurts of liquid left your pussy soaking the couch and their hands and they all groaned, licking at it. even yoongi leaned down to get a taste while making animalistic noises. the aftershocks making you twitch and whimper, your chest heaving as they slowly eased their fingers out making you whimper at the loss. their hands didn't leave you entirely, now murmuring praises.

“you did so well angel...” jimin cooed, kissing your thigh.

their eyes couldn't get enough of you as yoongi brought his glistening fingers to your lips for you to taste yourself.

“mhmm.” you licked obediently, feeling dazed and blissful, doing the same to taehyung's sloppily while still breathing hard.

they let you catch your breath while they looked at you with hunger and need that it made your chest tighten, wondering what they'd do next. that's when one by one they began to undress themselves fully, shedding off their dress shirts and pants that had already been partially opened. the clink of belts and the metallic sound of it makes your eyes hooded as you swallow, staring at them.

taehyung undressed first, taking off his shirt then pushed down his pants and boxers together, revealing his big cock. your eyes widened at how long it was, flushed at the tip from his need as he kicked away his pants. namjoon was next, taking off his shirt to reveal his muscular body, the type that came from gym sessions. his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, curving slightly upward with a prominent vein running along the underside, already glistening with precum.

jimin had all lean muscle, his abs rippling, the nevermind tattoo and the tattoos on his back as he revealed a perfectly shaped dick, not the longest but girthy enough to make your pussy clench at the sight, it looked like it was perfect to hit every sensitive spot. jungkook revealed his tattooed body next as he stripped, your mouth watering at the sight of his tattoos and muscles, revealing a cock that was both long and thick, veiny and aggressive looking, standing proud and pointing at you.

hoseok was confident in his bareness, he just seemed to have a flexible physique like he could put you in any position he wanted, his huge cock bouncing free, slapping against his stomach. jin moved next, revealing his broad chest and shoulder that you stared at with parted lips, his cock was thick as well and he was utterly shameless in it when he grabbed it and gave it a slow stroke, smirking at the way your eyes widened.

finally yoongi undressed last because he was too busy savoring your reactions to the others getting naked. his body was lean and strong, his pale skin makes him sexier and you gasped when his cock was exposed like it was a weapon, along with a slight thickness that promised deep thrusts and he was leaking steadily.

you were in pure awe as you took them all in, surrounded by such raw masculinity in every way possible. it felt so much more fierce because they were all bare. that you didn't even know whom to admire, you wished you had the capability to admire them all at once and to your heart's content. they were magnificent, each uniquely breathtaking and exerted dominance and masculine perfection and their cocks? they were all intimidating despite being different and you couldn't stop staring at them, you wondered if you were drooling.

you felt so incredibly powerful and unreal that you affected the men like that, they were all hard and leaking precum just for you. your pussy still throbbed from the aftershocks but couldn't stop clenching.

“oh my god...”

you whispered, your cheeks burning as you stared openly unable to look away. nothing in the world mattered in that moment except them, the way their bodies looked and the way muscles shifted under their hard and ready cocks because of you. you still couldn't believe that this was happening.

“you're all... so big.”

your tongue felt loose, the words leaving on their own. the men's egos boosted at your reaction, some smirking while the others looked at you heatedly. jungkook ran a hand through his hair, his piercing caught between his teeth.

“fuckk look at her staring like that, like we're the only thing she's ever wanted.”

he murmurs and namjoon chuckles deeply before nodding. you got that look in your eyes. they've had such powerful companies bow for them yet nothing compared to the way you looked at them right now. they didn't even want to compare you to anyone else, you were that special. they felt irresistible in your eyes.

“keep looking at us like that baby and we won't last long enough for everything we want to do to you.” hoseok grumbles.

you shifted forward onto your knees without needing much prompting, your knees sinking to the hard floor but jin quickly grabbed a cushion from the couch and gently placed it under your knees.

“don't want you bruising those pretty knees princess.” he says, stroking your hair once before stepping back as your heart flutters.

the seven of them formed a circle around you, their cocks at your eye level until you could get their clean male scent so well. your pussy dripping anew with eagerness. yoongi stepped forward first. he gathered your hair into a loose ponytail with one hand, pulling you close with a firm tug.

“open those sweet lips for me baby.” he rasps.

you parted your lips with a whimper and he slowly fed his cock into your mouth inch by inch. the taste of salty precum and clean skin made you moan as you took him deeper, your tongue swirling and he groaned, his eyes half closed in pleasure.

“good girl just like that. your mouth feels incredible.”

you relaxed your throat even more at the praise, wanting to do the best for him, taking him further until your nose brushed his pelvis, your eyes watering at the stretch. he held you there for long moments by your hair, savoring the tight heat then his hips started rolling lazily. his free hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“look at me while you take it… yeah just like that.” he growls.

the others watched intently, hands stroking their own cocks.

“she's handling yoongi so well.” hoseok commented huskily.

“look at her throat bulging a little, goddamn it.”

yoongi fucked your throat with such deepness that it left you gasping and moaning around him. he took your mouth for several long minutes, knowing others are still waiting so he reluctantly pulled out with a pop.

“perfect start sweetheart.” he praised.

jin moved in next, he tapped the head of his cock against your tongue almost immediately without letting you catch your breath. doing it a few times enough to make you whine.

“tongue out.” he ordered.

you obeyed dragging your tongue along his cock, letting out an “mmm” at the way he throbbed under your attention. then he guided you lower.

“now my balls suck them.”

jin was a balls kind of man, he had such sensitive balls and he loved it when they were sucked nice and gentle so you did exactly that. you leaned in, taking one into your mouth sucking while your tongue massaged it. your hand came up to cradle the other heavy one. jin let out a long satisfied moan, his head falling back.

“just like that... fuck… you're a natural. swirl your tongue more.”

you tried your best to follow his words, alternating between sucking and kicking while your other hand stroked his shaft as well, not leaving any part of him unattended. he grinned at how eager you were taking care of him so well even after everything they did to you earlier. you were worshipping his balls like they were your favorite treat.

“don't forget the rest of us baby.”

namjoon chuckles, the others making amused impatient noises, dying to get the feel of your mouth. your lips were already swollen and glistened when you pulled off jin's balls to breathe and he was about to slide his cock inside your mouth but hoseok was already taking his place next, his cock throbbing as he guided your head with one hand tangled in your hair.

“come here baby.” he murmurs, making your stomach flip.

your lips remained parted on their own so he slid it inside efficiently. your hand was placed on his thighs to hold on as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked.

“shitt.” hoseok groans, his hips beginning to fuck your mouth, each thrust pushing him deeper until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. you gagged as you heard wet slaps of his skin meeting your face as he picked up the pace, your moans drawing vibrations around him.

“yes… yes keep sucking like you mean it.” he rasps.

“so fucking pretty with your mouth full.” hoseok rocks into your mouth with a few more rolls.

his fingers tightened just enough in your hair to guide you, snapping his hips and burying himself deeper inside your mouth. from his ragged breaths and groans you felt that he was close and he wasn't letting go so easily. saliva dripped down your chin and onto your bouncing breasts.

“ahh.” hoseok pants as you licked along the underside of his shaft on a particularly hard thrust.

“you're gonna make me lose it if you keep that up.”

you only quickened your movements as the men around you were feeding off the sight.

“easy there hobi, don't wear her out too soon.” taehyung teased.

“yeah save some of that energy for the rest of us, give us a chance,” namjoon added, pumping his fist slowly over his cock. jungkook beside him, doing the same.

hoseok even though he was so close, pulled back, breathing hard as he petted your head as if you'd done a good job. they'd all planned to cum together and hoseok didn't wanna break the rule first. namjoon cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing over your precum soaked lips.

“you okay baby? want more?” he asked, checking in before taking his own moment.

“hah y-yes.” you nodded eagerly.

he filled your mouth completely with his cock from how slippery it was from all the fluids of others and your drooling mouth. his hand moved to rest on your throat, just cough to feel the bulge of his cock with every roll forward and you gagged, tears streaming down your face as you tried your hardest to breathe through your nose. his fingers flexed slightly as he controlled the pace so you took him to the hilt, he groans at the way your throat constricts around him.

“this throat feels so tight and good.” he murmurs. eyes half lidded as he watches the outline move under his hand.

“ugnngh!” you make a throaty sound that makes his grip tighten more. he loves the sight of you choking on his cock.

“she's taking it all... so hot.” yoongi observed, his cock still glistening from when you'd sucked his earlier and he used that to stroke himself.

namjoon's thrust grows faster as he fucks your mouth and the eyes and praises of others made your head spin and your thighs squeezing together from the frustration and need to finish once again. jimin stepped up, not wanting to wait any longer and as namjoon's eyes fell on him, he slipped out with a growl.

“perfect... you're absolutely perfect.” jimin hums with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he rubbed the head of his cock along your bottom lip first, tapping it lightly against your tongue without fully entering inside your mouth, pulling back whenever you leaned forward eagerly.

“ah ah, not yet angel.” he cooed.

“chase it… show me how bad you want my cock.”

you let out a whine, eyeing his cock with glistening eyes, tongue out sluttily but he was having his fun making you work for it. you part your lips, your tongue darting out to taste him, only for him to shift his hips to pull his cock away from you at the last second, leaving you whimpering and shifting on your knees. you watched helplessly as a bead of precum left him that you couldn't catch with your tongue, your mouth watering for more.

when he finally let you have him, it was just the tip sliding past your lips before he withdrew again and he let out a smirk. he sure had incredible patience to do this because the others were eager for your mouth while jimin was taking his sweet time. he makes you chase after it, your lips trying to suck him in desperately, each time he allows you just the head of his cock licking off his precum.

“p-please.” you sobbed.

“don't be such a tease jimin.. give our girl what she wants.”

jungkook chuckles hotly and the others nodded with a grin enjoying jimin's little game

“she's loving it though, she'll work even better on me once he's done.” taehyung adds with a grunt, already having made up his mind that he will go next.

“yeah? you want it bad baby?” jimin snarls and before you could reply, he abruptly filled your mouth with his cock, making your eyes widen.

“then suck it good will you?”

you suckled instantly, like you've been given water itself after being thirsty for so long, bobbing your head while making sputtering noises.

taehyung's turn came too slowly as if he knew exactly what he was doing. he sat on the edge of the couch unlike others who decided to take your mouth, standing on his long legs, man spreading so you're able to kneel comfortably between them. his dark eyes locked onto yours without blinking. taehyung's focus was solely on you. he reached down to gently stroke your tear streaked cheeks, it was such a tender touch compared to how hard and throbbing he was against your lips.

“you ready baby?” he murmurs.

you flushed, parting your lips slowly as you enveloped him with your mouth lapping onto the very tip of him as his taste fills your senses. his hand continued to stroke your cheek like you were his darling even as you sucked deeper.

“ugh!” he hissed, hips twitching as he lets you set the pace at first, loving the way you lap at his tip.

“your mouth feels like heaven... keep those pretty eyes on me, don't look away.”

the eye contact made it even more intoxicating as you tried to look up at him through blurry vision due to your tears and it made it even more intimate while he hit the back of your throat.

“just like that.” his head falls back onto the couch with a gasp.

jungkook follows soon, walking up to you with his belt, pulling your mouth off taehyung's cock with a slight tug in your hair that makes you moan. he was so impatient and rough after waiting so long for everyone to have their turns, his hand gripping your hair hard enough for pain to mix with pleasure. taehyung watches with a smirk, a little annoyed that his fun was cut short but he lets the youngest have his fun.

jungkook clasped the belt around your throat like a collar making you gasp, he used it as a handle as he pushed his cock inside your mouth in one go. he growled at the feeling, rolling his hips, throaty noises coming out of you from how immediately he reached the depths of your throat.

“take it deeper… ugh just like that.”

his hips delivered more sharp pumps while pulling your head forward with the help of the belt and you struggled to breathe properly, choking on his cock and your tears, he slowed just a little after a while.

“breathe through your nose baby. you're doing amazing.” he grumbles.

you breathe shakily as he pulls his cock out for a bit to let you breathe.

“mmph-”

your noise gets interrupted because he lets you take one inhale before driving back inside your mouth with full force. what started as you giving jungkook head led to more when the desperation in the group increased and they couldn't keep themselves away especially from how near they were from jerking off and also from the attention you've given to every single one of them differently and you knew what the men wanted without even proper words as you slowly started switching between all seven of them.

there were seven cocks surrounding you in a loose circle and you struggled to even focus properly. one moment your mouth was full with jimin's length sliding in and out of your mouth while yoongi's hand guided your hand to his cock from the side so you'd be able to jerk him off simultaneously.

“ah ah... mmmphmm.”

a mix of their husky moans and your muffled noises was all that could be heard. next you were turning to take namjoon's girth while both your hands jerked hoseok's and jin's cocks in rhythm. your palms were fully slick with spit and precum as you stroked them from the base to the tip.

“she's literally made for this.” namjoon rumbles as he holds your jaw, thrusting into your mouth.

“she can handle all of us together uh-huh?” jungkook lets out an amused groaned noise.

the different tastes and sizes were sensory overload for you, jin's cock filling your mouth and you also switched to sucking his balls like he liked while jungkook rubbed his dick against your face, leaving wet trails of precum on your pink cheeks. their hands didn't leave your body either, fingers tweaking your nipples, stroking your thighs or even guiding your head to the next cock. all this made you drip all over the floor, your pussy producing so much essence. you pulled off taehyun's cock with a gasp, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, only for hoseok to messily kiss you right after, his tongue tangling with yours and he growls at the saltiness from everyone before pushing your mouth back to yoongi's cock.

“oh...” you squealed.

when taehyung rubbed his cock against your cleavage, sliding down to flick your abused nipple with the tip of his cock

“tae pass her to me.” jungkook breathes out.

you whimpered as taehyung pushed your head on jungkook's cock so you'd be able to suck onto him while you twisted and pumped other cocks, occasionally leaning to lick or suck on balls or kiss the heads messily. no one came yet, they were holding back and edging themselves while you rotated between two or three cocks demanding your attention.

they noticed the way your thighs trembled and the sticky mess that was falling on the cushion between your legs and they didn't like neglecting you like that while you were working so hard on them. a shared look of understanding passed between taehyung and jungkook before they kneeled in front of you, making your eyes widen as they positioned you so your legs are spread while your mouth and hands are still able to work on others.

“ah-hahh, shit…”

jungkook and taehyung bury their heads between your spread thighs, their hot mouths devouring your pussy with hunger as your mouth couldn’t stop producing mindless noises. jungkook's tongue dragged slowly from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit in long strokes, his lip piercing hitting your clit every time, sending shivers up your spine with every pass. taehyung focused on tracing every fold with the tip of his tongue, sucking on your clit whenever jungkook moved his focus on your opening.

“hmm...”

he hummed, the vibration along with the dual sensations was overwhelming. both their mouths worked insistently as if they had all the time in the world, their tongues occasionally brushing against each other sloppily while your hips bucked. around you, the other five men stroked their thick cocks with pumps of their fists, their dark eyes locked on your writhing body.

“fuckk.” namjoon breathes.

his large hand gripped his length firmly, thumb swiping over the leaking tip as he watched jungkook's tongue disappear inside you continuously. you looked so goddamn pretty taking both their tongues like that.

“she's making a mess joon. watch how much she’s leaking.”

seokjin's lips curved up in a smirk as he let out a raspy chuckle with namjoon, both of them stroking their cocks side by side.

“she sure is.” he groans.

jin couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to grope one of your heaving tits to roll and pinch the nipple until you whimpered. hoseok's hips suddenly snapped forward, slapping against your parted lips. he panted smearing his precum on your bottom lip.

“mmph!” you let out a muffled sob when in one go, hoseok stuffs your mouth full of cock, almost cutting off your airflow, his eyes growing half lidded with lust and pleasure. yoongi and jimin were almost hypnotized with the sight of your pussy being so thoroughly eaten as hoseok grabs the belt around your throat that was being used as a collar and uses it as leverage to fuck your throat. pulling you closer with sharp tugs of the belt, fucking your mouth like his personal sex toy while choking you with the collar.

gluck. gluck. gluck.

the wet sounds of your throat getting fucked were all that was ringing in your ears along with the obscene slurps and sucks from between your legs. the men around you let out shared masculine moans and groans. you let out broken whines that you couldn’t hold back no matter how hard you tried, struggling to breathe.

“oh god...”

jungkook growled against your cunt as the two mouths between your thighs pushed you higher and higher. they held you apart when your thighs trembled so the others could get the perfect view.

“you're clenching so damn much baby.”

taehyung grumbles as two of his fingers slide inside you effortlessly from how slippery and wet you were while jungkook's tongue focused on your clit with renewed vigor.

“she's probably gonna cum again… she’s squirming so much.” jimin says and the other men made noises of affirmations.

hoseok pulled his cock out not giving you a chance to catch your breath as yoongi takes position and is already grabbing a fistful of your hair. he feeds you his cock and you couldn't help but clench on jungkook's tongue, making him let out a muffled groan, diving in again while taehyung latched onto your clit.

“taste so fucking sweet, are you gonna cum again for us princess?” taehyung pulls back enough to speak.

“ummmhg.” you let out a whine on yoongi's cock and he smirked

“yeah you will?”

one of his fingers joining to curl inside your pussy, making you sob, your eyes closing on their own. the others around you stroked their cocks right in front of your faces, stroking faster and faster, their breaths growing ragged muscles tensing. they also made you switch between sucking cocks of whomever you could and squeezing until you almost forgot whose cock you were touching or whose one was getting inside your mouth, you just blindly followed whatever they guided on you while jungkook and taehyung kept fingering and licking you beneath, stroking their own cocks. your boobs sometimes groped or squeezed against their cocks and also slid against each other. their eyes devouring your tear streaked flushed face, your body twitching hard.

you knew that they were so close. one by one they began to cum in sequence. all you could hear were groans and curses and the noises of liquid hitting the floor. jungkook pulled back from your pussy when he reached his peak with a harsh breath, stroking himself furiously over your mound before letting thick ropes of cum land across your pussy lips and clit, painting them white.

“fuuuuck yes marking this cunt right up.”

he hissed through gritted teeth while taehyung continued licking around the mess tasting your juices and jungkooks release mixed together with a moan his hand working faster as well. you pant against jimin's thigh, your forehead rested against it, all your attention diverted to the men coming around you instead of your own pleasure. namjoon aimed for your open mouth as you panted, his cum shooting across your tongue.

“shallow for me, take every drop.”

he commanded and you obeyed, gulping down everything. there was a slight bitter edge to his cum and you loved it. seokjin followed next, groaning deeply as he came across your tits and stomach, squeezing the last beads onto your skin while you squirmed.

“shitt yes yes...”

hoseok lets out groans as he cums against your cheek and lips, some landing on your tongue as you lick it up instinctively. jimin and yoongi targeted your breasts and belly, adding to the mess that now coated your upper body and within a few minutes, taehyung cums all over your ass cheeks too. the sticky warm fluid was everywhere and there was so much of it sliding over your curves, dripping down your sides and mixing with your sweat. fingers from some of them joined in pushing their combined release into your mouth, feeding you more as you moaned around the digits.

“such a good little cumslut.”

yoongi murmurs, roughly pushing two fingers coated in cum past your lips for you to suck clean. the taste of their release mixed together was so erotic that you couldn't stop gasping and whimpering. their cum slid down your forehead and eyelashes and they loved it, it made them even more possessive at the sight of you glazed by them.

you were their personal canvas.

taehyung scooped some of his cum from your ass and brought it to your lips too.

“shallow it all down baby, show us how much you love being ours.” he exhales.

jungkook and hoseok rubbed their softening cocks against your cum covered tits, smearing the white fluid further while namjoon and jin worked with their fingers to gather more and feed it to you, making you drink copious amounts of seed.

jin made you clean his cock properly while he groaned in approval before yoongi joined in, letting you clean every trace of his release, sucking at the tip while he stroked your hair. hoseok went next, guiding your head as you took him deeper while residual cum dripped from your chin and onto his shaft. he murmurs out soft praises while you move to clean namjoon as well with slow licks, smiles on all their faces in the afterglow.

you cleaned taehyung and jungkook together while they caressed your cheeks sweetly, ending with jimin, finishing cleaning all of them thoroughly.

your breasts heaved with every inhale as there was silence for a bit while you leaned there on the floor, your thighs quivering from the multiple edges they'd brought you with their tongues and fingers. your mind was hazy after giving all of them head even though they'd made you swallow a lot of it. cum still dropped slowly from your chin and onto your collarbone, you could still taste some on your lips. jungkook panted and moved closer first as he looked at you with lingering hunger as he brushed a strand of hair from your sticky forehead.

“so beautiful covered in us... you took everything we gave you.” he murmurs in genuine awe.

taehyung nodded in response.

“are you feeling okay y/n?”

the others gathered closer too. hoseok wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, jimin biting his lip as he admired the view and yoongi watched you, all of them waiting for your response. you nodded weakly at first, your throat hurting from sucking them and the constant moaning.

“i... am good more than good, that was...”

you couldn't find the proper words to finish your sentence but you were honest, it was everything and you shifted slightly, still feeling the ache of your unfinished release. the men exchanged glances, silent communication passing through them.

“she's still with us guys.”

jungkook said with a grin, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your forehead. jin reaches down to take off the belt from around your throat, letting you breathe properly. the belt left a pink mark that made them let out appreciative noises.

“drink some water first, you've worked hard and if we're gonna keep this going, you need to stay hydrated.”

hoseok coos as he walks over to grab a cool water bottle from the fridge, having no shame in walking around naked, his cock bouncing and it makes you flush harder. he uncapped it, holding it to your lips himself, tilting it carefully so you could sip slowly. it soothed your raw throat as you drank greedily, some of it spilled down your throat mixing with their cum.

even drinking water looked sinful on you.

they let you rest for a few longer minutes, their presence comforting you, hands roaming soothingly on your body while murmuring praises about how responsive you've been and how well you took them.

“think she's ready for more?” taehyung asked the group.

“she's nodding already, she's eager... aren't you angel?”

you smiled as you let out a sigh.

“yeah... i wanna continue.”

you admitted, your voice gaining new strength, no longer hoarse after the water and the break from them. the men lit up with renewed need, their cocks already twitching back to life at your words.

after a few more minutes of the rest period, they also helped wipe you clean with some tissues, not wanting you to be uncomfortable because of the stickiness and for what was coming next and they did that slowly, taking their time even if some of their cocks were already standing hard.

seokjin scooped you up as if you weighed nothing and into a bridal style, your body pressing against his chest. you gasped at the sudden lift, your arms wrapping around his neck, feeling his heart thud beneath your palm which told you that his heartbeat matched with yours. the others followed as jin carried you upstairs, your head resting against his chest, inhaling his scent.

“we've got you beautiful.” jin whispered.

they led you into the massive master bedroom which had a soft light giving a sensual glow. jin laid you gently in the very center of the bed, your body sinking into the mattress while they stood taking you in and how your thighs pressed together instinctively. there was so much desperation and anticipation. you were gonna lose a lot of fluids before the nights over so they were glad that you drank water.

“tell us baby... do you wanna keep going?”

you nodded, feeling impatient but still a little over the moon from their constant checks but you felt so good and naughty that you couldn't stop anymore.

“i want you all raw please... i-i'm on birth control, i want you inside..” you whine sultrily.

you didn't give them a moment to react before you shifted onto your hands and knees in the center of the bed, arching your back, invitingly presenting yourself to him. your ass swayed slightly as you looked over your shoulder and at them with half lidded eyes, your hair falling on one shoulder.

“make me yours tonight, use me like your little toy.”

the words came out confidently with no hint of nervousness, all your shyness and shame gone as you wiggled your hips in an attempt to seduce as if they weren't already. your spread thighs gave them the best view of your cum soaked puffy pussy. you have no idea what you've just unleashed and you're gonna face the consequences of that.

“did you hear that guys? she's already begging to be bred.” namjoon said with a wicked smile.

“that's exactly what we're gonna do.” jimin adds.

they couldn't wait to watch you take every load of cum inside your pussy. they've been pretty lenient with your mouth but they don't think that they'll go any easier on all your holes when you've just given them free rein. hours of pleasure were still to arrive.

yoongi of course was the first one to claim you based on the knowing look from the others who knew that he was going to be first as a primal look took place in his expression. without a word at first, he pulled you onto his lap in reverse cowgirl position making you yelp. your back pressed flush against his chest so that every other man in the room had a perfect view of your body. he gripped your hips firmly before one wrapped up to wrap around your throat making your breath hitch.

“y-yoongi..” you stammered as he bites your earlobe.

“sir. call us sir.” he corrects you, making you swallow, already lifting your hips enough to keep you suspended over his cock.

“sir... ahhh, oh my gosh.”

he rolls his hips, letting the head of his cock drag between your folds teasingly before notching himself right at your entrance and sliding inside you inch by inch while you can't stop writhing.

“nghh.” you let out a mewl when he was fully seated and he didn't waste much time before starting to thrust, the head of his cock dragging inside you with every grind making your walls flutter around him.

“so fucking tight.”

he grunts, his eyes half closing. the feeling was better than any drugs or money could provide, the feeling of your warm tight hole around him. the other men were already feeling jealous and extremely impatient, wanting to get a feel of your pussy too. they started pumping their cock with their hands, all their eyes locked on where yoongi's cock disappeared inside your dripping cunt.

in and out. in and out.

“ahh fuck... you're squeezing me so good like you never want me to leave this pussy.” he growls.

his thrusts remained torturous, sometimes circling his hips in a way to make him go deep and it made you let out the most delicious noises, his lips brushing against your ear as his grip on your throat tightened just a fraction. his free hand slid down to spread your folds wider with two fingers to expose you for the viewing pleasure of others and they could see every intricate detail of how he fucked you. the way his cock filled you and pressed against your inner walls, your body trembled as did your thighs on either side of his legs from their gazes.

you were also shocked at how they were all rock hard again so soon, their cocks hard and heavy as they jerked themselves lazily, enjoying the show yoongi was putting on. your pussy clenched around yoongi's length as he fucked you with measured thrusts that seemed to reach deeper than physically possible. the hand around your throat made your head spin, heightening every sensation until you felt like you might shatter. you were also having a cock inside you after years and he was so big that you couldn't remain still, it felt like you might shatter any moment.

“yoongi… oh god, it's so deep.” you gasped out, hands gripping his thighs for leverage as you tried to meet his thrusts.

he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back as he picks up the pace just a notch, snapping his hips up.

“too much for you huh?”

“let them know how much you love it shitt.”

he sent you spiraling, your walls fluttering as you felt the orgasm build for the second time tonight, your entire body tensing. the others couldn't take their eyes off you, their chests tightening along with their hands on their cocks. with a final deep thrust and a loud groan, he buried himself fully inside you, his cock twitching as he spilled thick ropes of cum inside you.

“yess yes...”

you babbled as his cock kept moving, some of his cum pushing out with his pumps. it triggered your own climax crashing over you hard making you convulse hard around him, your juices coming out as your back arched against him.

“that's it.”

he encouraged, his hand loosening on your throat to grip both your thighs as he kept going slowly through both your orgasms, ensuring you felt every throb. the others let out groans as well, their strokes pausing momentarily at how you both orgasmed.

“you tired her out already man.” hoseok laughed breathlessly, his cock twitching.

yoongi stayed inside you for a long moment, grinding to push his cum deeper as you rested against him while breathing hard. he didn't wanna leave the feel of you around him so soonbbut he reluctantly eased out with a wet pop, a trail of fluid leaking down your thighs. you made a frustrated little sound at the empty feeling. hoseok gave yoongi a smirk, the energy was practically wafting off him even before he reached you as he patted yoongi on the shoulder.

“you set the bar high didn't you huh?”

yoongi's lips curled, feeling satisfied but already looking forward to his next turn with you.

“take your time with her then.” he whispers to hoseok.

you were already limp, pussy clenching around nothing, eyes glassy as you looked up at hoseok. he flipped you onto all fours, positioning you to face the large mirror on the opposite wall so you could watch yourself while the others got a view too and it already has you panting. he lined up behind you and right on your slit, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. he didn't give you any moment to suck in a breath, it was so abrupt it knocked the air out of your lungs. he slammed home all the way inside with one thrust, stretching you open again amidst yoongi's cum.

“ahhh!” you screamed.

the hard fucking began immediately, his hips snapping forward relentlessly, his balls hitting your clit with every deep plunge. each thrust drove you forward slightly on the bed, your breasts swinging while you watched your face contorted in pleasure in the mirror along with the way his cock drove inside you and it made you even hornier and turned on.

“look at yourself and how good this cunt is taking my cock.” he snarled.

his one hand fisted your hair to keep your head up, forcing you to watch yourself. the others made manly noises enthusiastically, full of dirtiness.

“go harder hobi, she loves it rough.” jungkook urged

“she's absolutely gone.” jimin chuckles darkly, watching you in the mirror, leaning closer for a better view.

“uh… uh… uh…”

you let out with each thrust of his. the position and the angle make hoseok hit that spot inside you over and over and especially that combined with the cum inside you makes everything wetter, sloppier, more obscene. your walls fluttered wildly as you felt another of your orgasms building so fast from the brutal pace.

“s-s-sir, it's so good gahh!” you moaned loudly, pushing back against him desperately.

hoseok had started pounding into you with an intensity, his hands gripping your hips to keep you anchored in one place, your walls fluttering around him as the pressure built higher and higher towards another peak. hoseok's breath came in growls as he chased his own release he was so close to.

“gonna fill this pretty pussy up.” he groans but just as your orgasm hovered right on the brink, it all suddenly stopped.

jungkook moved closer all of a sudden, his hand shooting forward with determination.

“it's my turn now.”

jungkook gruffs out. it was like he was possessed by lust at the sight of your pussy being taken by others and he couldn't control himself, all he wanted was to feel you around him and couldn't even wait for a single moment. he was already pulling hoseok back by the shoulder and he let out a frustrated groan, his cock slipping out of your dripping heat.

“jungkook what the fuck? i was so close, she was right there clenching like she was going to cum any second too.”

hoseok complained, his cock throbbing angrily in the air, glistening as he shot jungkook a half annoyed and half amused glare, wiping sweat from his brow as he stepped aside reluctantly.

“you can have her right after man.” jungkook promised with a smirk at his lips. he scooped you up in a second from the bed as if you were nothing more than a delicate doll made for his pleasure.

“right now i wanna have her like this and fuck her.” he declared smugly, his eyes locked on yours in a way that makes your stomach flip.

it makes you let out a long moan because you loved it and this is what you wanted, wanted them to reduce you to their sexual plaything to pass around and claim as they pleased and it sent a shameful heat to your core. it turned you on more than you care to admit. another gush of wetness trickled down your thighs as jungkook maneuvered you into position. everyone was silent for a beat, a little shocked at the raw power jungkook exerted himself when he lifted you completely off the ground and into a full suspended hold, his strong arms hooked under your knees, folding your legs up and apart and blanching you like that, completely immobilizing you and exposing you. somehow the position made your puffy pussy get even more exposed to everyone. your back pressed against his chest while he stood as if he wasn't just balancing your whole body with just his arms alone.

you yelped sharply at the vulnerability of it all, your body suspended mid air, utterly at his mercy, your heels dangling.

“j-jungkook—”

he cut off your words with a click of his tongue, making a disapproving noise.

“yoongi specified to call us all 'sir' didn't he? you're seeking to get punished hmm?”

your lips part from his words, the position working against you in the nastiest way.

“i'm sorry sir.” you signed.

“now that's more like it.”

“she looks so helpless like that.” namjoon murmurs from the side, watching the way your pussy lips parted invitingly.

“jungkook's showing off his strength again.”

taehyung nods, grabbing a cigarette from the drawer beside him and lighting it with a flick of his lighter, taking a puff of smoke and blowing it out while his other hand strokes his cock.

“stretch that cunt wide for us.” seokjin grins.

“she's probably just soaking even more just from being held like that.”

hoseok adds, watching patiently, waiting to strike as soon as jungkook finishes but enjoying the show as well. jungkook adjusted his grip, his cock nudging insistently against your entrance. he teases you for a bit, rubbing the broad head up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your essence while you whimpered and squirmed in his hold.

“you want this don't you baby? want me to fuck you mid air like the needy slut you are for us?” he growled hotly against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“ohh yes please sirr... fuck me..”

and as quick as those words left your lips, jungkook slowly buried himself inside you, the sheer force lifting you slightly higher before gravity pulled you back down on his length. you saw stars behind your eyes from his size and the position made you tighter than anything. you cried out when he started moving using his immense strength to bounce you up and down his cock. each upward drive of his hips sent his cock slamming into you, producing loud wet noises as your juices coated him and dropped down onto the floor below.

“aaahh… yes…”

your body jolted, tits jiggling wildly, your head thrown back against his shoulder as moans poured uncontrollably from your lips. he kept his hands tight below your thighs, it kept unable to do anything more than take everything he gave you. his muscles strained from the efforts, veins popping along his arms and neck but he showed no signs of tiring, only pure focus.

“shittt she's creaming all over your cock already.” jimin observed.

“pound that pussy kook.” taehyung whistles, taking in another puff of his cigarette.

“don't forget to save some for me later, you greedy brat.”

hoseok added with a laugh. jungkook was clearly wearing you out quickly and the words from them only seemed to fuel him further. his thrusts are growing faster and harder, your cries escalating. he adjusted the angle slightly, grinding deep on every downstroke so his cock head kissed your cervix repeatedly while your pussy tightly held him, he felt so much bigger than he already was. the pressure built rapidly inside you, the unfinished orgasm from hoseok has left it coming back in full force so that it was almost painful, your clit twitching hard and untouched.

“sirrr gahh fuck i'm gonna—” your voice breaks in a wail.

“cum for me, let everyone watch.”

he commanded through gritted teeth, his own release approaching fast as he felt your pussy spasming. a loud scream that ended in a sob left you as you came harder than you ever had, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. you'd never squirted ever in your life and it was the very first time that your body couldn't keep up with it. clear fluid gushed out around his pistoning cock in squirts, soaking his thighs fully and landing so much of it down to the floor in a puddle. your vision whitened, every inch of your body locking up in ecstasy. jungkook groaned deeply, the feeling of your squirting pussy pushing him over the edge.

“fuckk yes take it all.”

he roared, burying himself as deep as he could, his cock pulsing hard inside you, thick cum flooding your womb in seconds, filling you to the brim. he held you there suspended, both of you panting and trembling, his cum mixing with your squirt.

“damnn she squirted so much...” hoseok grins, already moving closer.

“good job kook. now hand her over, i still need to finish what i started.”

jungkook slowly lowered you down onto the bed and you fell on your stomach from how exhausted you were even though you anticipated the other five of them. hoseok took his second turn hard and rough, he was already so close due to being inside your pussy the first time and the frustration had left him rougher than usual.

“fuckkk.” he snarls as he slides inside you with a loud noise from behind. you let out a wanton noise, murmuring his name.

“oh shit—oh shit—!”

you let out a string of curses when he reached around to rub your neglected clit in circles, feeling how engorged it is since nobody touched it for a while.

“goshhh yes.” you whined at it. your mouth fell open in an 'o' when it took him just a few more hard thrusts to fill you to the brim. there was so much cum from jungkook before as well that it soaked the sheets and made your thighs sticky with the creamy white mess. he pulled away from you with a shaky breath.

they let you have a few minutes of breath, your head buried on the pillow as your lower body quivered.

jin slowly walks forward, his hands settled on your back, caressing your sweaty skin. your hand fisted the sheets as you turned your head, your eyes longingly looking at his pouty lips and he didn't think twice and pressed his lips against yours, giving you a slow kiss. you whimpered when he pulled back, his arms pulling you close to him. his hands settled on your hips as he lay back against the pillows, one arm casually folding behind his head, his half lidded eyes sparkling with playfulness settled on you he guided you to straddle him, his thick cock standing proud and flushed against his abdomen.

“come on baby.” he whispers, stroking your ass.

“ride me. move those hips for me yeah?” he rasps. you felt a heat pool in your belly at his words as you sat on his hard stomach, breasts heaving as he cupped your cheek. your hips pressed against his abs, he helped you right above his cock, your breaths coming out fast.

“slowly…” he encouraged and you nodded jerkily as the head of him pressed against your puffy entrance.

you felt overstimulated in the best way and from cumming twice, it left you feeling floaty. he slowly stretched you open, giving you that burn that made your thighs tremble around his waist as you bore down more with a few gasps and sank down fully, his girth filling you completely until your ass met his hips and you were fully seated around him.

“hahhh!” you mewled as jin's face twisted in pleasure and at the feeling of your creamy cunt from all the loads you'd taken, it had left you warmer and even better inside. his free hand slid up your side before cupping one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple in tiny flicks that sent jolts through you.

“fuckk that's it.”

he groaned, his head tilting back slightly to expose the column of his throat, his adam's apple bobbing as he savored the tight heat enveloping him.

“move sweetheart. ride my cock like you mean it.”

he didn't push you at all, his hand caressed one of your butt cheeks, holding it spread so the others from behind could stare at the way his cock was inside you while he let you set the pace. your hands braced on his chest for balance as you began to roll your hips, lifting and sinking down in a slow grinding rhythm that dragged his cock along your inner walls with every motion.

“nnn… nnn… ahhh…”

pleasure started to build and he didn't push you so you were able to please yourself on him and he understood that you were a bit overstimulated so this was really helping you as you enjoyed yourself.

he hit the best spots on every downward stroke and your toes curled at the tingling feeling, your breath came out in needy squeals. sweat trickled down your back as the pace gradually quickened, your breasts bouncing with the movement and jin was hypnotized with the motion. his hand tightened on you, his jaw clenching with restraint as he helped you bounce on him, just bucking his hips up a little bit to meet you driving himself deeper. quiet whimpers left you. from the side of the bed, yoongi had been watching his lips parted slightly, lost in his control even though he'd had this turn at the very beginning but he couldn't help it.

“can't just sit here and watch anymore.”

he mutters huskily as he moves closer on the bed, positioning himself right beside seokjin. his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as you continued riding seokjin and then his mouth was on you so suddenly you choked out and gripped his hair in shock.

“w-what—” you gasped when his mouth grabbed onto your clit, sucking onto it making your entire body jerk.

“mmm so sweet..”

he hummed as he circled your clit, flicking at it with his tongue, teasing it before sucking it fully inside his mouth. his tongue technology was everything, he was an expert and so skilled it was so good, he was the best at eating pussy, sometimes lapping along your folds where they stretched around jin's cock.

“nnn… y-yes.”

your eyes closes, your motions faltering on jin's cock from taking both of them. it felt too much with the drag of jin's cock combined with yoongi's expert mouth devouring you. you almost lost yourself in the sensation of yoongi's tongue when a burst of pain from the spank of jin's hand made your eyes pop open with a cry, his hand immediately soothing the spot.

“don't stop moving.” jin commanded, a glare on his face, delivering another slight spank that made your pussy clench hard around him.

“keep riding me while yoongi eats your clit. you can take it yeah?”

the pain pleasure mix made you moan loudly, your movements resuming on their own with urgency, grinding down harder and faster as yoongi's tongue lapped at the mess where you and seokjin were joined, tasting both of you and also the mix of others that leaked out of you without hesitation, letting out groans at the taste. the others eyes gleamed at the pornographic sight.

“look at her go.”

jungkook breathed, biting his lower lip, watching the way yoongi's tongue worked on you while you quivered constantly and drooled from how intense it was for you.

“ride him harder, make him feel it.” jimin calls out. the others laughed lazily at his words.

“don't go easy on her man!”

he didn't go easy on you at all as jin tensed beneath you, his hips snapping up more insistently now to meet your frantic rides, his cock swelling inside you.

“shit i'm gonna cum.” he gasped.

his hand that was behind his head now gripping your waist with both hands to pull you down hard repeatedly as he thrusts up at you.

“milk me baby cum with me.” he encourages roughly.

all this while, yoongi's tongue never stopped sucking on your clit with the perfect pressure.

“don't stop—don't—ahhh!”

“never gonna stop baby.”

jin promises and after a particularly harsh suck from yoongi that even jin could feel on his cock, he finishes with hot spurts of his cum flooding you that pushed you right over the edge. you came even faster and harder than you expected while his cock draws out every drop. you let out a series of gasps as juices mixed with his cum coated yoongi's chin as he continued licking through it to prolong the contractions. the full wet heat and the sting on your ass from the spanks made you feel like you broke as seokjin held you close, still impaled on his cock. yoongi pulled back with a satisfied noise, lips shiny and swollen.

before you could catch a breath, taehyung and jimin came over to you, not one but two and the thrill of what the two of them were going to do made your eyes go round comically. taehyung was the first to grab your waist and pull you firmly against his chest, the smell of tobacco and sex clinging to him, while jimin slid in from the other side, pressing against your back until the both of them sandwiched you, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

“we've been waiting to feel this tight body up close.” jimin whispers, and taehyung nibbled at your collarbone.

“i can already tell she's gonna feel so tight around me.”

he adds, earning a smirk from jimin and you shuddered violently at their words. with slowness, taehyung and jimin both together worked to take off your thigh high stockings and your heels, taking off the only set of clothes on your body and now you were fully naked from head to toe. after that taehyung grabbed a silk tie from the drawer.

“put those hands up..” he coos and you gulp but obey shakily.

he bound your wrists above your head to the headboard. he tied it securely but not too tight, just enough to make sure you couldn't get out of it no matter how hard you tried. he leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your arms, lingering on the pulse point at your wrist, smiling at the way it raced.

“is this okay love? not too tight is it?” he asked and you nodded breathlessly, the vulnerability of being tied down made everything heightened for you. jimin watched, his hands already sliding down to pry your thighs wide apart.

“good.” jimin nods as he holds you open.

“damn they've really did a number on her…” jimin husks, watching the copious amount of cum your pussy seemed to leak.

taehyung settled between your thighs, not being able to hold himself back from the lewd sight of your stuffed cunt. his cock nudges against your folds, coating himself in your juices and he grunts at the feeling of hitting the tip of his cock on your clit, making your hips twitch with a whimper but jimin kept you pinned and open, not letting your thighs close. namjoon slowly joins the duo too, his hand cupping your jaw to turn your face toward him for a kiss.

“mnnn…” you let out a muffled noise, kissing him back, both your tongues tangling messily while his hand roamed to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples. taehyung's cock finally on the other hand, pushed inside you inch by thick inch and you moaned and cried loudly into namjoon's mouth, who was busy sucking on your tongue, his fingers tugging your nipples until they ached.

“she feels incredible fuckk.”

taehyung groaned deeply as he bottomed out inside you, his hips flush against yours, pelvis grinding against you which stimulated your clit too.

“so tight so hot, this pussy was made for us wasn't it princess mhm?” he grumbles as he feels you pull him in deeper with every little twitch.

“unngh..”

you let out another moan against namjoon's mouth while taehyung pulled back almost completely before sliding in again with that torturous slowness, making his cock drag against your inner walls and it made a loud squelch sound from how wet you are. namjoon kissed you more insistently, his teeth grazing your lower lip before he pulled back to let you breathe as he watched your face contort from ecstasy, his fingers not stopping playing with your nipples, kneading the flesh until they were more swollen than before, it made a slight pain mix with it.

“hnngh… ngh… mmh…” you let out all your desired noises after namjoon pulled away. he sometimes focused on sucking on your nipple too.

“that's it tae fuck her, watch the way her pussy clenches around you hm.. she's loving every second,”

jimin was mesmerized with the way taehyungs cock slides in and out especially from getting a proper close up view now instead of standing away, his hands faltering on holding your thighs open. taehyung lets out an approved grunt at his words while you struggle to keep up with all three of them playing with your body like this, you can't even move or shift due to being tied down, your hands clenching into tight fists, knuckles turning white. tears welled in your eyes as taehyung hits your g-spot, his breathing growing ragged as he grows increasingly close to his release.

“i'm so close..” he groans, pounding into you, making your body shift forward so hard that you had to grip the headboard.

“ahh.”

you and taehyung let out shared groans as he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. ropes of cum painted your inner walls as he stayed inside next for long moments, grinding to push his release deeper and leaning down into you, kissing your neck. taehyung shoots jimin a look before pulling out with a wet dirty sound, his cum already starting to leak from your used hole as jimin took his place seamlessly in the same missionary position. taehyung was the one now holding your thighs apart, spreading you wider so everyone could see the mess as jimin's cock slid between your cum slick pussy with ease from so much fluid making him so slippery that he lets out a breathless chuckle. namjoon shifted impatiently, watching taehyung and jimin take turns with you and he was the only one left so he rubbed his cock against the side of your face, smearing precum across your cheek before tapping it against your lips.

“open up angel, suck me while jimin fucks you.” he pants.

your lips part wetly to take him in as he slides inside and at the same time, jimin slides inside you.

“ugnngh!” you sobbed around namjoon's cock, tears streaming down your face.

“oh goddd she's even sloppier, it feels like heaven.”

you let out muffled groans around namjoon's shaft as he slowly started pumping. taehyung leaned down to kiss wherever he could reach, your neck, your breasts, your stomach while he kept your legs pinned. the others watched everything, the satisfied group did so after they had their chance, stroking themselves and throwing their dirty crude comments and murmuring among themselves about you and it makes you feel wilder. a bit more animalistic. you were completely a crying mess by now, your body trembling from the overstimulation from your cunt being taken again and again while you couldn't moan or breathe properly due to namjoon's cock. jimin's thrusts grew faster while you sucked namjoon. taehyung hadn't let you cum earlier so even before jimin had cum, you started cumming on him while thrashing, your hair falling messily on your face, your pussy clenching and gushing. your body tried to buck but couldn't from your hands being tied and your legs held.

“yesss!”

jimin moans out, letting out some sweet whimpers too at how hard you were clenching on him like you were trying to milk him for all he was worth. namjoon held your head steadily, giving a few thrusts before pulling back slightly from your mouth and you gasped for air loudly.

“she's our girl for sure… keep going jimin.” namjoon snarls.

the feeling of you cumming around his cock so quick made him cum almost soon after as well, some landing on your stomach as namjoon watched, stroking his saliva coated cock. namjoon carefully turned you onto your stomach and then guided your hips up, positioning you on your knees while your upper body remained pressed against the sheets. he spread your ass to press his throbbing cock against your pussy, groaning low in his throat. behind you, jungkook moved in closer, his lip piercing pressing against your skin as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, your stomach flutters at having him close once again.

“we're gonna take you together now baby, me in this tight ass while namjoon takes this pussy, do you understand?”

“i wanna hear you say it...” he rasps.

your mind was hazy with lust, tears of pleasure drying on your cheeks, it's like you existed for it only and you were willing to take whatever they gave you.

“y-yes p-please... i want it please.” you gasped out, needily pushing back against namjoon's cock.

“i want both of you.”

jungkook chuckles against your skin as he reaches for the bottle of lube on the bedside table that taehyung has brought with him while coming upstairs as if he just knew it'd be needed again soon. he poured a generous amount over his cock, stroking himself slowly, mixing his precum with him and making himself so slick while he breathed heavily. he added more lube directly to the right ring of muscle of your ass that was exposed from being held open by namjoon. he did it patiently, coating your outside completely and some of the cum and fluids had also dripped down to your ass so you were already so wet but he didn't wanna hurt you in any way and wanted to make sure that you were comfortable.

“ohh...”

you moaned when one of his fingers penetrated you, lubing your insides too while namjoon continued rubbing his cock head against your pussy, dipping just the tip in and out to keep you on edge making you tense.

“relax i'm gonna make it feel so good for you sweet girl.”

jungkook promised, his free hand keeps your ass cheeks spread more as he worked a second finger in scissoring to prepare you just like yoongi had done downstairs. he crooked his fingers just right, brushing against the special spot making you sputter as your head thrashed side to side, not being able to make much movement from being tied down. namjoon leaned down, his chest pressing against your back.

“you're taking kook's fingers like a champ.” he praised.

when jungkook finally deemed you ready, your ass stopped clenching too tight and had started fluttering instead in anticipation. he pulled his fingers free and lined up his lubed cock at your ass.

“ohhhhh fuck…”

you sobbed when your ass stretched immensely around his cock, your entire body shaking as he sank deeper, his groans mixing with yours at the feel of the tight channel.

“so fucking tight, let me in... yes.” he gritted out, one hand reaching around to rub your clit to distract you from the pain and it definitely did help as you breathed in and out.

when jungkook was halfway in, namjoon thrusted forward, burying his massive cock into your pussy in one stroke from how slick and gaping you were from taking multiple dicks there and jungkook was on the way to doing to the same training for your asshole too. it felt so overwhelmingly good yet so much, both their cock's met each other through the wall separating your holes, creating a pressure that made your eyes roll back so hard that there was only white visible, your legs kicking on the edge of the bed. namjoon's cock hit that perfect spot inside you while jungkook created a deeper fullness. it felt weird to have something inside your ass but it was forbiddenly good and you wanted more of it, your eyes went unseeing when he went all the way inside, pushing and gushing so much. the lube made everything slick and slippery so jungkook slided in and out with ease. they alternated, one pulling out while the other pushed in, thrusts that rocked your entire body upwards as you held onto the headboard desperately.

“hah… hahgh o-oh.”

namjoon growls, his hand fisting in your hair so your head shifts slightly and the others can see your blissed out face. jungkook's hips snapped harder, his balls slapping against your ass as he buried himself to the hilt. you couldn't stop making wanton noises, your stomach coiling from the dual penetration and it seemed to edge you so fast.

“i'm… i'm gonna oh—”

you wailed as you heard the slapping noises of skin meeting skin and the way namjoon and jungkook fucked you. the others around you were jerking their cocks faster so fascinated yet feeling so animal at the scene before the and they were so close to losing all self control.

you came hard around namjoon's cock, your pussy clenching violently around his shaft while your ass fluttered on jungkook's cock. your limbs shook uncontrollably against the ties as your forehead rested on the headboard as you tried to breathe wildly. namjoon followed right after, his thrusts growing erratic as he buried himself deep and came flooding your pussy with cum.

“fucking shitt.”

he lets out a string of curses, grinding deeper against you to push his release deeper while jungkook continues fucking your ass through the orgasm, drawing it out until you are oversensitive, his cock inside your ass makes you forget about the overstimulation of your pussy momentarily. the feeling of namjoon's cum leaking around his cock as he stayed inside you combined with jungkook's pace left your mind fully blank, you couldn't even produce proper words other than helpless moans. the aftershocks making your holes flutter around their cocks as they held you there, not pulling out yet

namjoon and jungkook slowly pulled out of you after a while, there seemed to be a certain shift in the air, like the wait had finally snapped. after seeing your flexibility and impressive energy, capable of being able to take two cocks at a time. they surrounded you on the bed, closing in like you had nowhere to escape.

namjoon and jungkook and taehyung were still beside you, their eyes all holding obsession and need as their eyes traced your flushed trembling form and the way that there was a large wet spot on the sheets. your wrists were freed from the tie by yoongi so you won't be restricted and they could put you in any position they want.

“color?” hoseok asks you with genuine concern.

“if it's too much, tell us.” taehyung adds.

his hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen lip. their hands hovering, cocks leaking against your thigh but waiting for your consent before proceeding, knowing you already took a lot. jimin leaned in to press a kiss against your temple.

“you're shaking so much but we won't push you unless you're okay.” hoseok croons while you gasp for breath, your heart pounding and slowing down as minutes pass by.

“green...”

that's the only word you managed to get out as you looked at them with glassy eyes and they all groaned together.

“that's our girl for sure.”

jungkook grumbles and the others made noises of agreement at how perfect you are and how your body opened up and gave itself to them so easily even after everything, you wanted to take more. they knew that you were the one for them.

they closed in fully and before you knew it, hands and mouths were on you all at once and everywhere. kisses went down your neck, shoulders, breasts and stomach, open mouthed kisses. teeth grazed your collarbones while tongues soothed the sting, fingers tangling in your hair and stroking your sides and ass. they teased every sensitive spot on your body. it was sensory overload as the heat of their bodies pressed close.

“haa…”

jimin was the first to claim your pussy, sliding his cock through your slit with a groan. he pushed in slowly at first, feeling your walls trying to pull him in like a magnet from earlier orgasms. namjoon positioned himself behind you, his cock pressing against your asshole. he didn't need to use more lube because there were already residuals of it from earlier and you were so full of fluids.

“gahh!”

you made a throaty noise, hands fisting the bedsheets as he worked his way inside your ass as well. jimin's thrusts rubbed against that spot inside you perfectly while namjoon's cock filled your ass. their hips snapping in sync, both their heavy cocks slapping against you, making pating noises while you sobbed out almost pornographic noises, not even recognizing the noises you made yourself. at the same time jungkook moved closer to your head, his hand wrapped around your cock, guiding your mouth open with the tip of it.

“let me feel that throat baby.” he growls, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he pushes deeper.

you moaned loudly as he immediately hit the back of your throat, tears welling in your eyes anew while jimin and namjoon continued fucking. taehyung on the other hand, slides his heavy cock between your breasts, squeezing them together around his length with a groan which were bouncing automatically from thrusts causing friction on his length.

“these are so soft.” he grunts. he loved the way they felt around his cock, his precum causing his dick to glide easily, his thumbs flicking your nipples with every moment. jin and hoseok claim your hands next, wrapping your fingers around their throbbing cocks. your palms were guided up and down their lengths with their larger hands covering yours, setting a firm pace.

“stroke me good baby.” hoseok says, their hips bucking into your grip, abs flexing.

“gahhsh hahh mmphh.”

you make mindless muffled sobbing noises on jungkook's cock while being stimulated in every way possible. they continued without pause, jimin fucking your pussy with deep strokes while namjoon pounded your ass. jungkook used your mouth like a toy, like it was just a warm wet sleeve for him to use as he alternated between deep throats and quicker thrusts. taehyung's cock slid messily between your breasts, leaving them glistening and he let out grunts. jin's and hoseok's cocks were twitching in your grip.

yoongi was the only one left to join and he was standing close to the bed, watching everything and the chaos with feral eyes, tracking every noise of yours and the slap of skin as the other men claimed you. his hand paused on his cock, his chest rising and falling as he saw you being used so thoroughly. jimin was buried deep inside your pussy already but yoongi could see the way your walls clenched and fluttered, begging for more. the stretch was not yet complete and that alone made his cock twitch. you were his adorable little slut and stretched so wide and still hungry for more. the other men also noticed that yoongi didn't join as they egged him on, turning to look at him.

“yoongi's been holding back.”

hoseok chuckled, guiding your hand along his cock. his other hand kept you steady on jungkook so your mouth kept working on him.

“come on yoongi, join us.”

jimin groaned in agreement, his hips never slowing as he looked at yoongi with a flushed smile, knowing exactly what he wants. they've known each other well enough to understand what the other wants without words and right now yoongi holding back means he wants something different, the way his eyes were fixated on your gaping pussy told him exactly that.

“she's so fucking tight even now… but we can make her take us both. get over here and stretch our girl.”

yoongi finally pushed off the bed, his cock bobbing heavily as he approached, making the men chuckle between groans while you struggled to keep up with their words or even understand what they're saying. he added more lube over his length, adding even more to where jimin was already connected to you. the head of his cock pressed against your already stuffed entrance, teasing over the stretched rim where jimin was inside.

“go for it.” jimin smirks at him and yoongi hums.

“you want this baby? want both our cocks splitting this pussy wide open?” yoongi murmurs, his free hand stroking your bulging tummy gently, feeling the outline of jimin inside you. all you could respond with was a muffled sob around jungkook's cock as tears and snot left you, your mind melting.

“that's a yes.” jungkook replies to yoongi with a grin, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

your vision blurs when yoongi finally pushed in alongside jimin causing such a burning stretch like you were going to tear open, forcing two massive cocks all the way in together. inch by inch, yoongi's length slid home, the lube easing the way but not diminishing the intense fullness as your tummy visibly bulges outward even more prominently at the dual intrusion.

“hnnngh... mm...” you sputtered with wide eyes around jungkook's cock.

the men groaned, their hands roaming your body, all focused on watching the way you took three cocks, two cocks inside your pussy and namjoon still pounding your ass. your belly bulged with each thrust until you could feel every bit of the detail and veins of their cock. you've never felt so full and complete in your life. the masochist in you barely registered the pain and only focused on the way you were being claimed so thoroughly. yoongi and jimin found a rhythm together, their cocks rubbing against each other, it sent white hot sparks exploring through their nerves. your pussy was overfilled and cum frothing at your entrance with every plunge, dripping down to where namjoon was hammering your ass in perfect counterpoint. jungkook pulls out from your mouth to let you breathe understanding your need for it.

“ah-ah-ah-ah—fuck!”

they treated you like you were a breeding toy, namjoon's hand pressing down on your lower back to arch you further, deepening the triple penetration.

“we're gonna ruin this cunt for anyone else. gonna pump you so full of cum you'll be leaking for days.” jungkook snarls, spitting inside your mouth as you wail, his hand stroking your tear streaked face as he jerks off right on your cheek.

“our cumdump..”

yoongi groans, giving you a few more pounds. you were spiraling higher and higher, murmuring and screaming nonsense, your brain's functions lost, while they were hitting spots inside you you didn't even know existed, rearranging and jostling your insides. just then namjoon leaned down to pinch your clit hard between his thumbs. you fully lost your mind.

“AHHHHHHHH!”

you let out such a loud scream that you were sure others outside the penthouse could hear despite it being soundproof as you gagged repeatedly on jungkook's cock, your breasts beingsqueezed hard by taehyung. you orgasmed hard, pussy cleaning down like a vice, milking yoongi's and jimin's cocks as so much liquid squirted out of you, soaking everyone. your entire lower body was soaked and their thighs were mixing with saliva and precum, your throat constricting around jungkook's. your vision blackened and you fell forward, almost like you lost your senses. yoongi snarled through gritted teeth, his hips rocking faster.

thrust. thrust. thrust.

that was what all of them were doing, jungkook inside your mouth, hoseok and jin fucking your fists, taehyung using your breasts while namjoon fucked your ass and jimin and yoongi fucking your pussy, all their faces contorted, not being able to stop moaning, pushing you to hypersensitivity and every inch of your body felt like it was burning and on fire. they didn't stop continuing to fuck you until they all started cumming, one by one they came all over your body and face and inside all your holes.

all you could smell was sex, sweat, raw masculinity and cigarettes, it all mixed together into something extremely lewd. so much liquid sloshing in your belly, becoming inflated as namjoon, yoongi and jimin dumped it inside you. you all felt less human and more animal like, sex beasts where nothing was enough and the night still wasn't over.

the night went on like that and the hours felt like an endless haze of pleasure as the seven of them continued to use you like their personal fucktoy, rotating through every single one of your holes until no part of you was untouched. groans, moans, cries and the slap of skin against skin were all that could be heard.

creampies after creampies.

“who do you think made her cum the hardest huh? i bet it was me hitting her spot just right.” jungkook chuckled deeply, gripping your ass.

“nahh kook, it was me definitely.” yoongi interrupts.

“y/n baby, tell them, whose dick wrecked you the most?”

but you could barely form words, your mind foggy and from overstimulation so they gave you another round just to prove among themselves actually who was capable of making you cum the hardest as if they all didn't successfully do so several times already. they passed you around with ease, each man claiming a turn while others watched or strokes themselves and joined in to heighten the torment. they also competed about who could make you scream or cry the loudest as they shifted you into several different positions. you were shocked at your body for being so flexible. you didn't even remember your own name at this point as the rotation continued relentlessly.

hours went on with edging and making you cum, sometimes with mating press position or putting both your legs over their shoulders and sometimes they gave it to you in the spoon position so they could take their time with you passionately while they talked among themselves, always discussing who gets to have you next or in which position to put you in.

“y/n are you still with us or did we fuck you dumb already?”

you were far from responding to them, only letting out garbled noises, your body taking them all even now, you felt like you were in heaven and hell together from the pleasure and from the sensitivity. the gangbang went on until you felt like your pussy and ass overflowed with their cum that was constantly pushed back in by insistent fingers and cocks. the sheets were fully ruined, drenched in sweat, saliva and semen, your body was soaked from head to toe too as they made sure not a drop of their cum went to taste. even if they argued among themselves about who made you cum the hardest but at this point your body reacted to even the little brush of fingers because of how hyper used you felt as you babbled incoherently still pushing back against several cocks.

you were also shocked at how much raw energy they had that even after so many orgasms and such exerted force they could still go on, their cocks seeming to get hard within minutes of release but soon you felt them slowly growing exhausted as well after hours of claiming you.

you saw the first hints of morning light through the curtains from half closed eyes, you all didn't even realize that the night had turned to nearly dawn. you felt half conscious yourself, not a single bit of energy left in you, not being able to lift your head as your lower body still convulsed. the bed was a wreck, the sheets half twisted and all wet, some pillows on the floor, pools of cum drying on your body and theirs as well. one pillow was half torn, you'd probably grabbed too hard between your hands but didn't even remember properly. the headboard also had nail scratches and marks from grips.

you lay in the center of it all, voice almost gone from screams and moans, feeling blissfully blank and dreamy, where thoughts dissolved before they could form. your body ached deliciously, bite marks everywhere, handprints reddened your hips and ass, your pussy and ass swollen, still trickling bits of their white seed. they all panted around you, all their cocks softened now, no longer having the power to get hard again as you felt a few sets of arms wrap around your waist, holding you close without crushing you with their weight.

“fuck… baby, are you okay?” jungkook murmurs.

he pressed soothing kisses against your shoulder and you just whimpered, burying your face in taehyung's chest, your body shifting a littl and that made you let out a quiet little cry because it put pressure on your lower body.

“shhh, don't move too much.” taehyung whispers as he places a hand behind your head.

“we've got you.”

“water first, someone get the bottle.”

namjoon says urgently, knowing how thirsty you'd be after everything. jin stands up on shaky legs and goes to grab another bottle of cold water for you, while hands of theirs that gripped and spanked now rubbed slowly over your sore muscles, slightly massaging.

“you did so well baby.”

taehyung nuzzled into your side while yoongi pressed slow apologetic kisses on your stomach and you mewled, melting in the sheets. they made you drink water, making sure you finished the entire bottle to quench your thirst and also for whatever energy you lost. they constantly asked questions about if you were okay, if any specific body part of yours hurt and that they were sorry even if they had no reason to. they constantly made sure that you were comfortable and safe but you had no energy to reply to them to tell them that you enjoyed everything and to not apologize. so you expressed your gratitude through actions, leaning onto them and clutching them as they all enveloped you into cuddles, solid bodies radiating safety until you were cocooned.

your head pillowed on jin's chest, legs tangled with jungkook's and hoseok's, taehyung's arm draped over your waist, jimin's fingers laced with yours, namjoon's hand stroking your hair while yoongi traced up and down your back. they didn’t talk for several minutes, letting you recover, knowing you weren't in the state to reply to them until they felt your breathing regulate more.

“are there any cramps? do you feel dizzy?” jin asks softly and you shake your head weakly.

“good… safe.” you managed to croak out and they all smiled, letting out relieved noises and kissing against each mark and bruise they left on you.

“you worked so hard angel… we're so proud of you.”

they also had scratches and bite marks on their bodies from where you'd grabbed onto them. some nail marks also caused blood to bead a little but all their focus was on you, not caring about themselves. after the blissful recovery they decided it was time for a shower. you also felt a little uncomfortable and sticky everywhere from so many fluids so they carried you to the large bathroom.

during that, the staff had already been notified to clean the sheets and bring fresh food in without a single question or raised eyebrow from them. they knew better than to do that and minded their own place but even shock was evident in their faces because it was the very first time the men had ever brought a woman into their place.

in the shower they treated you like you were something precious and fragile, giving you utmost care as if you were a delicate flower meant to be handled like that. they washed you together, massaging your scalp with shampoo while your head rested on the edge of the tub, warm water making you moan in relief as they cleaned all the fluids from your hair and body.

“lift your leg for me princess.” yoongi instructed affectionately.

then he used a soft towel to clean between your folds and between your thighs slowly as you winced from the pain and soreness but he did that oh so gently, a huge contrast to how he fucked you moments ago as they helped support your legs, massaging between your toes too and it makes you giggle with a tired smile. they didn’t touch any of your sensitive spots or your nipples, noting how swollen and reddened they were, being extremely mindful and checking in with you.

“there we go… nice and clean.” namjoon held you against his chest.

they talked among themselves about what to feed you next or which ointments to apply to your marks in hushed voices so as to not jerk you while they wiped down your body with a dry towel. they wrapped a towel around you and carried you back to the freshly made bed with new sheets and laid you down carefully, making you sigh at the feeling of freshness and no more wetness even though your body ached sweetly. they insisted on feeding you a light snack too despite that you felt so sleepy, not wanting you to fall asleep on an empty stomach and in pain.

“just a few bites… such a good girl yeah?” namjoon coaxed, they were all patient as you managed a few bites. your throat a little sore too from taking so many cocks but the cold fruits helped. after that, they made you have a pain relief tablet before placing extra fluffed pillows behind you.

“we're right here.”

jimin whispered.

“sleep now, we’ve got you.”

you never felt so cared for. it made your heart flutter, your lips curving in a dreamy smile as you buried your nose in the pillow, a kitten like purr leaving you from deep within your chest and it made all the men around you melt into puddles. their bodies forming a protective circle, hands rubbing and massaging your thighs, almost rocking you to a peaceful sleep, their devotion something you'll carry with yourself even in your dreams. they watched you all quietly, you slept so deeply on your stomach, one of your hand squished beneath your cheek making your lips pucker.

“she's out cold... poor thing took everything we gave.”

yoongi said with a rare smile as jungkook pushed a strand of wet hair away from your face. it seemed as if all their heart was being carried in your little palm all alone, like they found what they'd been missing all along.

“she fits doesn’t she?” hoseok murmurs, lost in the haze of watching you too as the others nodded softly.

“she does…”

they knew that they wouldn’t let you go and that they'd keep you, it wasn’t just a contract of one night, it was more that, they didn’t wanna spoil you just for one night but forever.

nothing in the world mattered except you right here in their arms, owned by them, marked by them in every way humanly possible and there was no going back, they knew that even their souls knew that.

“we'll talk to her when she wakes up but she's not leaving, we’ll show her how serious we are.”

you meanwhile, slept unaware that your life had changed for the better and that new beginnings were yet to come with much adoration and sex, yet most importantly, eight hearts connected and meant to beat together.

➥ taglist : @kskskskskskskskss @gukdemonic @jeonette @chelseaad @koosette @mn1jungkook @mrskimjoon @dilflover008 @singularity4joon @yevataeia @kookstempo @ggukiebar @yoongix7 @gld3en @cupidsbling @bethanyyuy @jeonlarity @pinklemonsstuff @furioustrashlover @hainwhatever @wtfanu @elmarimochi9513 @httpjk7 @wintrbears @kawaikisses @polaroidrebel @littleblue-pickle @perfectlyoongi @imjustcrabby @mnimxrva @lohikook @crimsonbangtan @phehehep @goldenjjksworld @sunkissedcheekss @jmscaffeine @mintedagustd @multimxa @tina-20

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[mimisitaugu]

Whiskey & Champagne

pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Reader (Y/N)  

tags: idol au, established relationship, smut, possessive jungkook, jealous jungkook, angry sex, public venue, secret encounter, overstimulation, protective jungkook, soft jungkook after sex.  

tropes: "everyone is looking at you but you belong to me", "overprotective boyfriend", "marking what's mine", "secretly hooking up in a public place", "he acts tough but he's a softie for her".  

warnings: 18+, explicit smut, rough smut, public/semi-public sex, bathroom sex, fingering, finger fucking, rough penetration, wall sex, marking / biting, blood (from biting), creampie / internal ejaculation, leaving the venue without cleaning up / leaking semen, wet sounds, overstimulation, risk of getting caught, jungkook is a jealous idiot but he's deeply in love, praise kink, post-orgasm aftercare.  

word count: 7.1k

summary: You find yourself at an exclusive VIP after-party celebrating the end of a major award show, wearing a tight black dress and sharing a laugh-filled conversation with Soobin. Everything seems like the perfect night, until you lock eyes with Jungkook, your boyfriend, across the bar. His patience has worn thin, and his dark eyes promise an explicit punishment right in front of everyone. In the end, the cold marble walls of the bathroom will become the only witness to a fury fueled by jealousy, marks on the skin, and a wild possessiveness.

──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────

The tight black fabric of the dress clung to your curves like a second skin, cut so low in the back that you felt the cold air of the lounge every time you moved. You adjusted the edge of the fabric, smiling as Soobin let out a clean laugh, leaning over to make himself heard over the electronic music vibrating against the walls of the private club. The venue was packed with celebrities, producers, and neon lights that tinged the atmosphere with purple and bluish hues, creating a dense, exclusive ambiance.

Soobin, looking impeccable in his designer suit, touched your shoulder naturally—a gesture of pure friendship that they had shared for years in the industry, but one that in an environment full of curious eyes seemed much more intimate. He spoke into your ear, his lips almost brushing the strands of your hair to beat the volume of the bass.

"Really, Y/N, if you don't stop wearing these dresses, I'm going to have to play your bodyguard all night," Soobin joked, keeping his hand resting on your shoulder while gesticulating with his other hand, which held a glass of champagne. "Half the club is devouring you with their eyes, and I don't want to have to fight anyone today."

You laughed, throwing your head back in an exaggerated gesture, and took a sip from your own glass, letting the liquid warm your throat. "Don't overdo it, Soobin. It's just a black dress. Besides, I'm perfectly safe with you here."

You tucked a strand behind your ear, and as you looked down, a sharp, intense sensation of warmth ran down the back of your neck. It was that sixth sense that activated only when he was around. Instinctively, you looked over Soobin's shoulder, searching the far end of the VIP bar, the darkest and most secluded corner of the private section.

There he was.

Jungkook hadn't moved from his spot in the last hour. His long fingers were wrapped around a glass of whiskey on the rocks, but he wasn't drinking. He wore a jacket over a black silk shirt with the first few buttons open, revealing the beginning of the tattoos that crawled up his neck. His jaw was so tight that you could feel the muscle's tension from across the room. His dark eyes, completely fixed and charged with a cold, possessive fury, were pinned directly on Soobin's hand, which was still resting on your bare skin.

Far from looking away when you caught him, Jungkook held your gaze. He slowly dragged his eyes up from your cleavage to your lips, and then locked them onto yours again with a wild intensity that made you swallow hard. There wasn't a hint of your boyfriend's usual sweetness on his face; his gaze promised explicit punishment, a warning that you were playing with fire. The contrast between the casual conversation you were having with your friend and Jungkook's quiet possessiveness across the room immediately quickened your pulse.

"Are you listening to me, Y/N?" Soobin asked, noticing your distraction as he gently ran his fingers down your arm to get your attention.

"Yes, of course," you lied, feeling your pussy suddenly wet at the thought of what Jungkook was thinking at that moment. You forced yourself to look at him again out of the corner of your eye. Jungkook had just set his glass of whiskey on the bar with a thud. You watched as he deliberately unbuttoned another button of his shirt without taking his dark eyes off you, as if warning you that his patience was completely gone.

You took a step closer to Soobin, seeking to tease Jungkook a little more, brushing your shoulder against his chest as you gave him another bright smile. "I just got distracted by the music. Were you telling me what happened to the producer the other day?"

Soobin kept talking animatedly about the new concept for his upcoming album, gesturing with his hands and smiling at you with that blind trust he had in you. You tried to focus on his words, nodded, and let out a soft laugh at the right moments, but the reality was that your mind was elsewhere. You felt the skin on your back tingling and hot, as if the air in the VIP club had suddenly become dense.

You looked over Soobin's shoulder to search for the dark corner of the bar again, but you froze when you realized that Jungkook was no longer there. Your glass was halfway to your lips. Panic mixed with an intense rush of adrenaline hit your chest. You quickly looked around the crowd of celebrities and purple neon lights, searching for his tall figure and black shirt.

Then you found him.

Jungkook had moved toward the VIP lounge area, right in your direct line of sight, just a few meters from where you were standing with Soobin. He had sat down on a black leather couch under a red neon light that cast dangerous shadows over the sharp features of his face. He rested his arms wide across the back of the sofa, stretching his body with a dangerously masculine laziness, and spread his legs wide in a completely dominant manner.

He stared at you with his dark eyes the exact second you discovered him. He didn't blink. He did not disguise it. He held your gaze with such wild fixity that you felt a sudden, wet spasm between your legs, soaking the lace of your underwear beneath the tight dress.

You shifted the weight of your body from one foot to the other, trying to maintain your composure in front of Soobin, but Jungkook noticed your nervousness and a sly smile, almost imperceptible and full of smugness, tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew perfectly well what he was provoking in you.

Slowly and deliberately, Jungkook lowered his gaze to your cleavage, running his eyes over the black fabric that squeezed your breasts. Then, he widened his legs even more on the couch. You watched as he lowered one of his tattooed hands toward his crotch, adjusting himself in front of your eyes with total shamelessness, revealing the thick and rigid bulk that already marked the fabric. He had a completely hard cock just from watching you interact with another man, and he was showing it to you as a direct challenge.

You clenched your fingers around your champagne glass so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Your lungs starved for air. You watched as Jungkook, without taking his hungry eyes off yours, ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, slowly moistening it, promising you with that single gesture everything he was going to do to you with his mouth as soon as he had you alone.

"Y/N, are you really okay? You look a little pale," Soobin's voice brought you back to reality, breaking the invisible thread that linked you to Jungkook for a second. Soobin took another step toward you, worried, and placed a hand on your arm to comfort you.

That simple physical touch was the final trigger. From the couch, you watched as Jungkook's expression instantly transformed. The amusement disappeared from his face, replaced by a shadow of pure possessiveness and jealous rage. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened again in a brutal way. He held your gaze one last time, slowly nodding his head toward the hallway that led to the VIP restrooms. It was not a suggestion; it was a direct, icy order. If you didn't move right then and there, he was going to get up and force you out of there in front of everyone.

Your legs trembled under the tight black dress, feeling your pussy drip from the sheer anticipation of the punishment that awaited you. You set your glass down on a high table with clumsy hands and looked at your friend, forcing the most natural smile you could manage.

"Yes, Soobin, I'm fine. It's just so hot in here," you said, your voice a little higher than normal from the lack of air. "I'm going to run to the bathroom for a second to refresh my face and touch up my lipstick, okay? I won't be long."

"Sure, go ahead. I'll wait for you here," Soobin replied with a friendly smile, totally oblivious to the silent war that had just taken place behind his back.

You turned around, feeling Jungkook's eyes burning into your backside as you walked. You crossed the VIP lounge at a hurried pace, your heart pounding against your ribs with a physical, excruciating need to feel his hands on you. You stepped into the dark hallway of the restrooms, pushing open the door to the private marble cubicle with the absolute certainty that it wouldn't take him a minute to slip in behind you.

You entered the private bathroom and immediately leaned your back against the heavy wooden door, releasing the air you had been holding in your lungs. The silence of the place, broken only by the muffled hum of the bass from the music outside, hit you suddenly. You looked at yourself in the great black marble mirror; your cheeks were on fire and your breathing was so altered that the neckline of your black dress rose and fell erratically. You ran your hands down your thighs, trying to smooth out the clinging fabric, but before you could take a step toward the sink, you heard the sound of the doorknob turning behind you.

You instinctively stepped aside as the door opened and Jungkook came in like a whirlwind, slamming it behind him. The latch turned with a sharp, definitive click that echoed off the tiled walls.

You didn't have time to speak. Jungkook stepped forward, his face hardened by icy fury, and firmly grabbed your arms to smash your back against the cold marble wall. You gasped from the impact, but the contrast of the stone's cold against your bare skin only served to make your pussy even wetter, already dripping under your underwear. Jungkook crowded you, overpowering you with his massive body, forcing you to feel the stiffness of his erect cock pressing hard against your belly through the fabric of your dress.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing out there, Y/N?" Jungkook hissed, his voice so hoarse and low that it vibrated right in your chest. His dark eyes, completely dilated with rage and desire, swept over your face before locking onto your lips. His tattooed hands gripped your arms with a possessive force that made it clear you had no escape. "Did you enjoy watching him touch you? Do you like being looked at that way in front of everyone?"

You frowned, feeling anger and frustration mix with the intense excitement that had him so out of control. You tried to push against his chest, but it was like trying to move a rock; his muscles were completely tense beneath his black silk shirt.

"Jungkook, enough! I've explained it to you a thousand times, damn it," you exclaimed in an angry whisper, trying to keep your voice low in case someone passed through the hallway. "Soobin is my friend. I've known him for years, long before you and I started dating. We weren't doing anything wrong, we were just talking about his damn album."

"I don't give a flying fuck about his album, and I don't give a rat's ass about how long you've known him," he interrupted, closing the remaining distance to brush against your lips roughly. He didn't fully kiss you, torturing you with his agonizing proximity. His whiskey-laced breath flooded your senses. "I saw the way you laughed. I saw how he touched your shoulder and how he stroked your arm. I know exactly how he looked at you, Y/N. That guy wants to fuck you just as bad as I do, and you just stand there, smiling at him in a dress that clings to every single damn curve."

"He's my friend, Jungkook! He doesn't look at me like that; you're the one being completely paranoid," you shot back, throwing your head back as his mouth dropped down to your neck. You gasped for air the moment his clenched jaw grazed your sensitive skin. "You always do the exact same thing whenever he's around. I'm not going to stop talking to him just because you can't control your damn jealousy."

Jungkook let out a guttural growl, a possessive sound that ran down your spine like an electric shock. One of his hands released your arm to climb straight up to your neck, wrapping his long fingers around your throat loosely—just enough to force you to tilt your head back and look straight at him, catching your eyes with an icy fixity.

"Jealousy? Of course I'm jealous, dammit. It drives me crazy that anyone thinks they have a chance with you," he confessed through gritted teeth, his ragged breath hitting your face. His eyes went down again to your cleavage, where your breasts rose and fell heavily from the argument. "You're mine, Y/N. No one else's. And it makes me sick to have to sit on a damn couch watching other men lick their lips while staring at your body through that fabric. I'm not going to share you with anyone, is that clear?"

"I'm not an object, Jungkook. You don't have to share me because I'm your girlfriend," you replied, your voice cracking because the pressure of his hand on your neck and the hardness of his cock brushing against your core were clouding your judgment. Your pussy was pounding in an excruciating way, soaking your lace completely, wishing he would just stop talking and rip your underwear off at once. "You can't expect me to hide in a corner every time we go out."

Jungkook barely softened his grip on your neck, but only to slide his fingers toward the back of your head, tangling them tightly in your hair to pull you back. His gaze became purely hungry, losing what little patience he had left.

"I don't want you to hide," he whispered, brushing his nose against yours, letting his lips graze yours with wild urgency. "I want everyone to know that the only one who spreads your legs at night is me. And right now, you're going to apologize to me for making me wait so long while you were having fun with him."

You didn't have time to respond to his demand. Jungkook shortened the remaining distance and crashed his lips onto yours in a wild, wet, fury-laden kiss that made your knees tremble. You closed your eyes tightly, clinging to his broad shoulders as he devoured you without a hint of patience, thrusting his tongue into your mouth to claim your space, savoring the champagne you'd drunk and forcing you to follow a frenetic pace that took your breath away in seconds.

With a jerky motion, Jungkook pulled your hair back with the hand on the nape of your neck, forcing you to arch your back and completely expose your throat. You let out a muffled moan against his lips that he swallowed smugly. He lowered his kisses down your jaw, leaving a trail of hot saliva that cooled suddenly with the air from the bathroom, until he stopped right in the curve of your neck, where your pulse beat wildly.

"You're going to learn to respect me, Y/N," he growled against your skin, and before you could process his words, he dug his teeth hard into the sensitive tissue of your shoulder.

You felt a sharp prick of pain that made you let out a gasp, digging your nails into the fabric of his black shirt. The pressure of his teeth was maintained for an eternal second, barely tearing the surface layer of skin until a warm thread sprouted from the small wound. When he pulled away, a perfect drop of blood ran down your collarbone. Jungkook looked at you with completely dark eyes, dilated by adrenaline, and a wicked smile appeared on his face. He lowered his head slowly and ran the tip of his tongue over the wound, licking the trickle of blood with an almost animalistic pleasure, tasting you as if you were his property.

"Mine," he repeated hoarsely, dragging the word against your ear as he left you trembling from sensory overload.

His hands wasted no more time. They went straight down the sides of your body, burning through the fabric of the clinging black dress until they reached the hem. With a dry, violent tug, Jungkook pulled the fabric up to your waist, leaving your bare legs exposed to the cold air of the marble bathroom. He forced you to spread your legs by pinning one of his knees between your thighs, forcibly separating them to gain space.

Your fingers clung to the edge of the sink when you saw his tattooed hand go straight down into your underwear. He hooked the lace impatiently and tossed it aside unceremoniously, leaving your core completely exposed. The first contact of his long fingers against your clitoris—which was already ridiculously soaked, hot, and throbbing with the lingering heat of the argument—made you let out a high gasp.

"Just look at you... you're dripping for me, damn it," Jungkook hissed, looking down, fascinated by the wetness covering your labia. "You were all smiles for that asshole, but it's because of my cock that you're so fucking open and wet."

He rubbed his thumb with direct force over your clitoris in quick, heavy circles that made you instinctively arch your hips toward his hand, reaching for more. Just as you were about to beg him not to stop, Jungkook curled two of his fingers and slipped them into your pussy, sinking them all the way down without a shred of mercy.

"Jungkook!" you shouted, burying your face in his neck as your vaginal walls contracted violently around his fingers, trapping them in your own heat.

He did not stop; he began to pump inside you with a fast, hard, and steady rhythm, matching it with his thumb, which continued to pound your clitoris relentlessly. The wet, dirty sound of his fingers going in and out of your soaking wet pussy began to echo off the walls of the VIP bathroom, mingling with your desperate gasps. You moved uncontrollably against his hand, losing your mind from the sharp pleasure that his punishment was causing you.

"You're going to cum for me right now, Y/N. I want to see how you come on my fingers before I bury my cock inside you," he ordered in your ear, increasing the speed of the pumping, driving his fingers deeper and deeper, looking for that exact spot inside you that made you lose consciousness.

The friction was so intense that you felt like you were burning inside. Your eyes filled with tears of pure pleasure and your vision began to blur. You felt the first wave of orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach, expanding into your thighs, which wouldn't stop shaking.

"I'm cumming, Jungkook... I'm going to cum," you groaned desperately, throwing your head back, pressing your buttocks against the marble wall.

"Do it, damn it. Soak my fingers," he demanded, pushing harder.

The orgasm struck you like lightning. You let out a gasp that was instantly muffled when Jungkook covered your mouth with his free hand, forcing you to swallow the sound while your pussy suffered brutal spasms, squeezing his fingers violently as you expelled jets of hot fluid that soaked his hand and wrist completely. You stood suspended in the air, panting against his palm, your body limp and completely defeated by the climax.

Jungkook didn't give you a single second to get used to the impressive length that filled you completely. Without pulling out, he yanked your hips back violently and rammed into you again with a sharp blow, causing your buttocks to slam against his pelvis with a wet, loud smack that echoed off the walls of the bathroom. You let out a high-pitched scream that was cut short when he started fucking you at a frenetic, hard, and ruthless pace, sinking into your pussy with an animal force that made you stagger against the marble sink.

"Shit, Y/N... you're so fucking tight," Jungkook gasped against your ear, his voice broken with pleasure, alternating his thrusts with a speed that was making you lose consciousness. "I swear it blows my mind how perfectly you fit me, fuck. No other girl feels like you."

You stared into the mirror with your eyes completely blurred, watching your breasts shake under the black fabric of the dress with each of his wild thrusts. Jungkook was staring at you through the reflection, his eyes bloodshot, completely out of control. The pleasure of having his huge cock sliding in and out of you at that speed mixed with the delicious humiliation of his words, making your clit throb with unbearable force.

"But I'm still mad at you," he hissed suddenly, his tone shifting to a much colder one as he thrust so deep it made you arch your back to the absolute limit, tearing a heartbreaking moan from your throat. "It makes me want to break you right here for letting him touch you. I want you to feel every damn inch of my cock so it's clear to you who this pussy belongs to."

"Ah, Jungkook! More… Harder!" you begged with a broken voice, losing your mind, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts with the exact same violence.

"Shh... shut your damn mouth," he ordered immediately, lowering one of his tattooed hands to firmly clench your jaw, forcing you to look at him in the mirror while he delivered three thrusts in a row that made you see stars. "Don't make a sound. We're in the VIP area of the party. Anyone could push that door, break the latch, and walk right in."

The mention of the real danger sent an electric shock straight to your spine. Suddenly, a perverse and extremely hot fantasy settled in your mind, sending your pulse racing. You imagined the door opening. You imagined people in the industry—or worse, Soobin himself—walking down the hallway, calling your name, pushing the door open, and finding you exactly like this: completely helpless, with your black dress pulled up to your waist, your hips flushed red from Jungkook's brutal pace, and his huge cock driving in and out of your soaked pussy, making you squirt right in front of him.

The mere thought of Soobin seeing you being torn apart by Jungkook's pleasure, moaning like a whore for him, turned you on in a destructive way. Your pussy twitched in a spasm so violent that Jungkook let out a wild growl, feeling your vaginal walls almost strangle his member.

"Fuck, Y/N... how you squeeze... does it excite you that they can see us?" he asked with a wicked smile on his lips, instantly capturing your reaction. His words became even dirtier, brushing your ear with his wet lips. "Think of your little friend Soobin outside, waiting for you. Imagine if he walked in right now and saw you with your legs wide open, devouring my entire cock while I fill you with my cum. Would you like him to see us fuck? Would you like him to see how I leave your pussy dripping with my cum?"

The morbidity completely overwhelmed you. You let out a loud, undone groan, unable to contain the tremendous wave of excitement that flooded you. Realizing how loud you had been, you immediately clapped both hands over your mouth, pressing your fingers against your lips to drown out your next screams.

Jungkook had no mercy; he took advantage of the fact that you were completely disarmed and overexcited to grab your hips tighter. Leaning a little more over the marble, he began to fuck you from behind with an even rougher rhythm, pounding you mercilessly while you could only emit muffled noises and sobs of pure pleasure behind your hands.

You were completely lost, your hands pressed against your own lips to hold back the screams as Jungkook continued to charge at you from behind with a brutal cadence. Your buttocks were burning from the friction and your pussy was pounding so intensely that you felt like you were going to explode at any moment. The wet smack of each thrust resounded loudly in the black marble bathroom.

Suddenly, three sharp, firm knocks on the wood of the door cut through the air.

You froze completely, opening your eyes wide in the reflection of the mirror. Jungkook also stopped instantly, leaving his huge cock buried to the hilt inside you, staying completely motionless. The silence that settled in the cubicle was suffocating, broken only by his agitated breaths and the sound of your chests colliding.

"Y/N? Are you in there?" Soobin's voice came from the other side, strangely clear and close. "You've been in there for a long time. Since you didn't answer my messages, I got a little worried. Is everything okay?"

Absolute panic ran down your spine. You looked at Jungkook in the mirror, imploring him with your gaze to be silent. But a wicked smile, charged with a hot, dark malice, appeared on your boyfriend's face. Jungkook not only didn't stay still, but he began to move his hips again in an extremely slow way, burying himself and coming out of your pussy millimeter by millimeter, making him brush against your swollen clit in such a precise way that you had to bite your lower lip to keep from shouting his name.

"Answer him, baby," Jungkook whispered in your ear, his voice barely a breath, brushing his nose against your sweaty, wet cheek. "Tell your little friend that you're perfectly fine. But watch your tone, because if you moan, I'm going to push hard."

Your hands gripped the edge of the sink so tightly that your knuckles ached. The slow rubbing of his member against your soaked vaginal walls was delicious torture. You swallowed hard, trying to stabilize your breath before opening your mouth.

"Yes... Soobin, I'm here," you managed to say, horrified by how shaky your own voice sounded. You paused for a second as Jungkook pushed a little deeper, causing you to close your eyes from sensory overload. "I'm fine... it's just... my dress got ruined and I'm trying to fix it."

"Ah, I understand," Soobin replied from the hallway, his voice denoting total innocence. He didn't have the slightest idea that you were leaning over the marble with your black dress pulled up to your waist, completely sealed around Jungkook's hard cock. "Do you want me to wait for you out here, or should I go back to the VIP bar?"

Jungkook's smile widened upon hearing his friend's question. To test your endurance, he thrust a little faster—not hard enough to make noise with the impact of your bodies, but deep enough to make you gasp. A high-pitched moan almost escaped your throat, but you bit your tongue just in time, transforming the sound into a heavy sigh.

"No, Soobin... go back to the bar," you replied quickly, the air missing from your lungs as you felt the hot fluids slipping down your thighs from Jungkook's movements. "I... I'm going to take a little longer. I'll catch you there in a few minutes."

"Okay. Don't be long. I'll save your spot," Soobin finally said, and within seconds, you heard the subtle sound of his footsteps fading away down the club's hallway.

As soon as silence reigned again, you dropped your head forward, resting your forehead against the cold mirror, completely exhausted by the psychological toll of almost being caught. Jungkook let out a hoarse sigh and grabbed you firmly by the chin, forcing you to lift your head so you would look at your reflection next to his. His dark eyes shone with a mixture of possessive pride and unbridled desire. He planted a wet kiss on your cheek, right where your tears of pleasure mixed with sweat.

"Damn, Y/N... you're a work of art," he praised you in a broken voice, completely fascinated by your submission. He gently stroked your hip before tensing the muscles in his legs once more. "You behaved so well. Talking to him with my cock deep in your pussy... You're going to drive me crazy. You're the hottest, most perfect girl in this damn world."

The pace became completely relentless. Freed from the paranoia of Soobin listening, Jungkook gave himself entirely to instinct, ramming into you with an overwhelming force that made you hit the marble sink again and again. The sound of his thrusts, the friction of his tattoos against your back, and the suffocating heat of the bathroom dragged you to the edge of the abyss. You felt the climax building with savage violence in your belly, making you lose all track of time and space.

"Jungkook... I'm going to cum, it's coming, fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back, seeking his lips in a desperate, tangled kiss.

"Take it all for me, baby. Receive it all," he gasped, delivering three brutal thrusts that made you see stars.

The orgasm hit you with the force of a tidal wave. Your pussy twitched in violent, painfully delicious spasms, squeezing his cock with brutal force, imprisoning him in your own heat. Jungkook let out a completely animalistic growl as he felt your vaginal walls strangling him; the stimulation was too much for his own control. He delivered two final, blind thrusts, burying himself deep inside you, and came with a series of powerful jerks, filling you with jets of thick, hot cum that you felt expanding all over your core.

They stood like that for a whole minute, united, your chests rising and falling heavily, listening only to the echo of their ragged breaths in the bathroom.

Little by little, the adrenaline of jealousy and fury began to dissipate, giving way to that warmth so characteristic of Jungkook. He pulled out of you slowly, letting out a soft sigh, and immediately grabbed you by the waist to turn you around with extreme delicacy—the exact opposite of his roughness from just a few minutes ago.

He gently leaned you against the sink, supporting your weight because your legs were still shaking like jelly. You looked at his face; the hardness of his features had completely vanished. His dark eyes gazed at you with a devotion and tenderness that melted your chest. Jungkook looked down at your shoulder, where the small mark of his bite still glowed with a trail of dried blood. Extremely gently, he cradled your face with his tattooed hands and pressed his forehead against yours.

"Baby... are you okay?" he asked in an extremely low voice, hoarse but loaded with genuine concern. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping a strand of wet hair from your forehead. "Did I hurt you? Tell me if I was too rough or if I made you feel bad because of what I said... Fuck, I went crazy with jealousy, but I would never want to hurt you."

You smiled weakly, your heart pounding, but this time out of pure love. You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'm fine, Kook. I'm perfectly fine. I loved it."

Jungkook heaved a sigh of relief that seemed to come from his very soul. He lowered his head and began to pepper your face with soft, slow kisses; he kissed your eyelids, the tip of your nose, and then moved down to your shoulder, leaving a warm, prolonged kiss right next to the wound—silently apologizing through your skin. His hands slid down to your hips, giving you slow, comforting caresses that made your skin crawl in the most beautiful way.

"I love you," he whispered against your neck, pressing you a little tighter against his body as if he wanted to make sure you were real. "I love you so much I'm afraid I'll go crazy over you, Y/N. You're the only thing I care about."

"I love you too, Kook," you replied, hiding your face against his chest, inhaling his expensive cologne mixed with the scent of sex. "Much more than you can imagine."

They stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a few more moments, enjoying the peace after the storm. However, the reminder that you were still in the bathroom of a VIP club rushed back into your mind. You felt the warm moisture of his cum slowly sliding down the inside of your thighs, reminding you of exactly what had just happened.

You pulled away from him slightly, reaching for the paper towel dispenser. "Well, I have to clean up a bit and fix my dress before Soobin starts to really get suspicious out there."

But before you could tear off the paper, Jungkook's tattooed hand landed over yours, stopping you firmly. You looked at him, confused, but saw that the wicked, possessive spark had rekindled in the depths of his dark eyes. A sly smile tugged at his lips.

"You're not going to clean up, baby," he said in a voice that turned dangerously sexy again, pulling your hand away from the dispenser.

"What? Jungkook, it's leaking, it's going to stain my dress," you protested, feeling your core clench suddenly at the implication of his words.

"I don't give a shit about the dress," he said, pulling down the black fabric to adjust it over your hips, covering you up again but leaving all his cum trapped inside you. He smoothed your dress possessively, patting your buttock gently. "You're going to walk out just like this. I want you to walk around the club, talk to your little friend, and say goodbye to him feeling my hot cum run down your legs with every step you take. I want you to remember who filled your pussy every time you look at his face. We're going home right now, but you're leaving exactly like that."

You sighed.

It took you a couple of minutes to compose yourself in front of the mirror. You touched up your lipstick with slightly shaky hands, adjusted your hair to try to hide the mark of his bite, and smoothed the fabric of your black dress. As you took your first step toward the door, you felt a warm, thick thread slowly slide down your inner thigh. Your core clenched hard. It was a deeply intimate, overwhelming sensation; you were walking through a public venue completely filled with him.

You left the bathroom alone, just as Jungkook had planned so as not to arouse suspicion, leaving him inside for a couple more minutes. You crossed the corridor and entered the bustle of the VIP area again. With each step you took, the movement of your legs caused Jungkook's cum to slide a little more, soaking your underwear and making you feel a constant electricity between your thighs.

You walked to the bar and found Soobin in the same spot, holding his glass and looking down at the dance floor. When he saw you arrive, his face lit up with a friendly smile, totally oblivious to the perversion you had hidden under your dress.

"You're finally back, Y/N! I was already getting worried," Soobin told you, taking a step toward you. He looked at you intently for a second, squinting. "Wow, you look... a little different. Your cheeks are very red. Are you sure you're okay?"

You squeezed your legs instinctively, feeling the hot flow build up in your core for fear that he would notice it. You forced the most natural smile possible.

"Yes, Soobin, I'm fine, don't worry," you replied, trying not to let your voice tremble. "But actually, I came to say goodbye. I have to go now."

Soobin opened his eyes wide, clearly surprised and disappointed. "What? Why are you leaving so early? The party is just getting started, they still need to bring out the best DJs, and we wanted to talk to the producer, remember? Stay a while longer, please."

The morbidity of listening to his pleas while you felt the semen of the love of your life dripping down your skin turned you on in a destructive way. You looked Soobin in the eye, knowing that if he knew what had just happened to your body five minutes ago in the marble bathroom, he would be completely floored.

"I'm really sorry, Soobin, I'd love to stay," you lied in a hurry, settling your bag on your shoulder. "My head started to hurt a lot because of the noise, and the truth is that I don't feel very well. Tomorrow I'll text you and we can talk about the album calmly, yeah? Enjoy the party."

"Well, if you feel bad, I'm not going to force you," Soobin relented with a resigned sigh, but gave you one last affectionate smile. "Take care of yourself, baby. Let me know when you get home."

"Yeah, I'll let you know. Bye," you said, turning around quickly before your body betrayed you.

Walking to the exit of the club was delicious torture. You crossed the VIP dance floor, feeling how the thick cum finished staining the lace of your underwear, threatening to seep into the fabric of the black dress with each stride. You stepped out of the venue into the cold night of the city, where a line of luxury cars waited by the sidewalk.

A few meters away, you immediately recognized Jungkook's imposing black car. You approached at a brisk pace, and just as you reached the driver's side door, the tinted glass rolled down slowly and deliberately.

Jungkook was leaning back against the leather seat, now without his jacket and with the sleeves of his black silk shirt rolled up, showcasing his tattooed arms. He looked you up and down with a sly smile, charged with a supremely sexy self-sufficiency. His dark eyes flashed with pure possessive amusement at the sight of your slightly tormented face.

You leaned against the window frame, tilting a bit toward him, and looked at him with a defiant, flirtatious gleam in your eyes.

"What are you laughing at?" you asked him in an amused whisper, though your breathing was still a little shallow. "Let me tell you one thing, Jungkook... If I get into your precious car right now, I'm going to smear your leather seats with your own cum. It's driving me crazy how much it's running down my legs because of you."

Jungkook let out a low, hoarse laugh—an incredibly hot sound that vibrated right in your belly. Far from worrying, his gaze became even darker and hungrier. He stretched his hand out the window, gripping the back of your neck firmly to force you to lean a little further into the car, pressing his lips to your ear.

"I don't give a flying fuck about the car, baby," he whispered in a dark, husky voice that soaked you completely. "Get in right now. If you stain the leather, you're wiping it off later with your own tongue. Move, I'm finishing the job at home."

You let out a soft giggle, feeling a delicious chill run down your spine and a rush of adrenaline that quickened your pulse at the promise of his punishment. You let Jungkook steal a quick kiss from your lips before he released the back of your neck, and you walked around to the passenger side. The blast of the heater greeted you instantly, along with that characteristic scent of leather and his expensive cologne.

You adjusted your black dress carefully, although at that point you didn't care if it got stained or not; having his mark running down your legs made you feel completely claimed. Jungkook started the car, slowly pulling away from the club's curb to merge into the illuminated city streets.

Keeping one hand steady on the steering wheel, Jungkook stretched out the other and placed it on your thigh, squeezing the fabric of your dress gently. Looking at him out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his lips pull into an adorable little pout, his eyes fixed on the road but wearing that little boy expression he got when he was still feeling a bit sulky.

"Still, I think you spent way too much time smiling at him," he muttered in a tone that was meant to be serious, but completely betrayed how much he wanted your affection. "I didn't like seeing him so close to you at all."

It brought you so much warmth to see him acting like a tender, jealous boy that you unfastened your seat belt for a moment to lean toward him. You rested against his broad shoulder and began to pepper his right cheek with kisses, climbing up to his cheekbone and then down to the corner of his mouth, interrupting his complaints with loud, wet kisses.

"I already told you that I only love you, my handsome jealous boy," you whispered between kisses, caressing the back of his neck with one hand while he tried to suppress a satisfied smile at your undivided attention.

"Okay, I get it," Jungkook protested with a low chuckle, though he tightened his grip on your thigh, tugging up the hem a bit to trace your skin with his tattooed fingers as he drove the rest of the way home.

──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────

A/N: Wow, I am absolutely speechless… we officially hit 1,000 likes on my first story, and I’m literally crying! 😭 Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the incredible love and support, you made me the happiest person ever. Here is officially my second OS! 🙈 I’m still super nervous, but I truly hope you guys enjoy this one too. Any thoughts or feedback are more than welcome! ❤️

[honeylives]

liked by charles_leclerc ♡ charles leclerc ig au (pt. 6)

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

Y/N is not an influencer. She's not famous. She's not in motorsport. She is an ordinary girlie, who just happens to like books a lot. One day a certain F1 driver stumbles upon her account and as faith would have it - their taste in literature is awfully similar.

warnings: ig au, slowburn

note: hello ♡ thank you all so much for all the love! as always if you want to sign up for my taglist you can do so by clicking the link below! here is to part 6 of the charles leclerc ig au, inspired by @collapselist - dean

pt. 5 | masterlist | sign up for my taglist

📸 yourusername 📍nice, france

liked by charles_leclerc and 42,381 others

yourusername offline for a little while 🤍 posted 11:15 AM

thef1girliecorner: CHARLES IS IN NICE

janedoe: OH MY GOD

jaysf1corner: not this again

emmawrites: i'm tired

charlesssleclerclover1: no because why is she always in the same country as him

🗞️ f1gossipdaily

liked by 2,016 and others

f1gossipdaily Fans have reported seeing Charles Leclerc in Nice over the last 48 hours. fans have also noticed that y/n's newest post appears to have been taken in the same area and featuring the driver's dog Leo. neither party has commented.

f1cl16fan: here we go again

thef1girliecorner: i need answers

angelthegirlie: WE ARE TIRED OF THE GAMES

f1paddockfashionpodcast: just date publicly already

yourusername's DMs

🏎️ charles_leclerc: you know they're talking about us again

📸 yourusername: our weekly tradition

🏎️ charles_leclerc: i'm serious

📸 yourusername: i know

🏎️ charles_leclerc: does it bother you?

📸 yourusername: does it bother you?

🏎️ charles_leclerc: no

📸 yourusername: then no

🏎️ charles_leclerc: good

🏎️ charles_leclerc: because i took another photo of you today

📸 yourusername: charles

🏎️ charles_leclerc: what

📸 yourusername: you are becoming concerning

🏎️ charles_leclerc: i think you'll survive

🏎️ charles_leclerc

story post

good company

tagged: yourusername

📸 yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc and 56,183 others

yourusername this week

charles_leclerc: nice photographer

yourusername: thank you, i trained him myself

charles_leclerc: impossible

yourusername: why

charles_leclerc: he never listens

charlesfan1: OH MY GOD

f1podcastprofile: HE NEVER LISTENS??????

janedoe: HE?????

clfanpage: CHARLES LECLERC COUNT YOUR DAYS

thef1girliecorner: I'M WITNESSING HISTORY

yourusername's DMs

🏎️ charles_leclerc: ferrari gala next month

📸 yourusername: okay?

🏎️ charles_leclerc: come with me

📸 yourusername: as what exactly?

🏎️ charles_leclerc: that's what i'm trying to figure out

taglist: @merrilyspicyspider@queen-of-disasterrrrr @unidentified3902 @livelaughleclerc @legendarychrattgirl @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[norrisxcx]

BARE MINIMUM! ⌗ CHARLES LECLERC

❝ Charles loves to spoil his younger girlfriend, because in fact, that’s the bare minimum!

𝓬ontains. fem!reader. face claim: none (but pics of Alex included). established relationship. age gap (23/28). a few hate comments. based on Базовый минимум.

liked by user1, user2 and others

deuxmoi NEW COUPLE ALERT 🚨 ? Charles Leclerc has reportedly been spotted multiple times over the past two weeks in Monaco with a mysterious girl. The pair allegedly kept things low-key but were seen together on several occasions around the city, sparking chatter that Ferrari’s golden boy might not be so single after all.

view more comments

user1 not surprised tbh, he’s always being spotted somewhere with someone😭

user2 if it’s real I’m happy for him, if it’s not I’m still invested anyway

user3 again? lmaoo

user4 she’s either a long-term gf or his cousin and there is no in between

user5 i think her insta is @/yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, user6 and others

yourusername 🛥️☀️

view more comments

user7 is this the girl charles was spotted with?

user8 it’s her. you can literally see leo in the last pic. user9 + arthur liked the post

user10 she looks soo young

user11 wtf? she’s 23. she’s an ADULT

user12 soo pretty ❤️❤️

liked by scuderiaferrari, user13 and others

charlesleclerc rest days

view more comments

user14 😍😍

user15 oh so this is serious

user16 just soft-launching each other

liked by charlesleclerc, user17 and others

yourusername grateful 🤍

view more comments

user18 posting everything but her bf

user19 he is literally on the last slide. hope that helps!

user20 he got her a KELLY? oh he’s WHIPPED

user21 i’d be too if i was him no lie 😩

📍 International University Of Monaco ♫ YOUNG DUMB & BROKE • Khalid (official audio)

liked by yourbsf, charlesleclerc and others

yourusername young dumb & broke ✅ uni kids ❌

view more comments

yourbsf we did it babyy ❤️😩 it’s gonna be so boring without us ❤︎ liked by author

yourusername it was a wild ride

user22 so the gossip account did not lie

user23 congrats girl!

charlesleclerc congratulations chérie ❤️ ❤︎ liked by author

yourusername i love you ❤️❤️ user24 awww so cute

user25 wdym broke 😭😭

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and others

charlesleclerc my girl just graduated, congrats baby 😘

view more comments

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

user26 he is sooo in love

user27 HE posted HER btw

user28 bare minimum

user29 i just know she’s gonna get something big

liked by charlesleclerc, user30 and others

yourusername thank you @/charlesleclerc 💞💗💕

view more comments

charlesleclerc for you, bare minimum chérie 😘 ❤︎ liked by author

user31 i need a man like him

user32 i’m screaminggg

user33 i want a car too for graduating

user34 she chose right

user35 great taste girl!

© norrisxcx 2026

[97linelover]

The golden cage - Jeon Jungkook Part I

Summary: winning the exclusive Spotify x bts event shouldn’t be that much of a plot twist right?

But what if jeon jungkook falls for a fan even though it’s forbidden in this industry?

Word Count: 34.4K

A/N: jk is always on my mind since the comeback! And Arirang is so so so good.

I wrote on this for so long so please leave me some feedback, it´s possible that there are many mistakes :D

The walls of your childhood home in Frankfurt are currently doing more than just providing structure; they are vibrating.

​Downstairs, the speakers are pushing the limit. The bass of the new BTS album thumps through the floorboards, a rhythmic pulse that has been the soundtrack of your entire weekend. Your parents are out for the afternoon, which means your younger sister, Lea, has turned the living room into a concert hall. You can practically hear the choreography she’s surely performing in front of the TV.

​You sigh, adjusting your glasses and turning your attention back to your laptop screen. As a Journalism student, you’re used to deadlines, but this essay on The Ethics of Digital Media is proving to be a challenge when "Standing Next to You" is rattling your desk.

​"Concentrate," you mutter to yourself, typing a few lines about source protection. You’ve lived in this BTS-infused environment for years; you know the lyrics to every B-side, the birthdays of every member, and the fact that Lea’s room is a shrine to Jungkook. You aren't a hater,honestly, the production quality is undeniable,but right now, you just need a quiet workspace.

​Suddenly, the music downstairs cuts off. The silence is jarring, lasting only three seconds before it’s replaced by a sound far more alarming: a piercing, high-pitched scream.

​Your heart jumps. You push back your chair, ready to run downstairs to see if she’s fallen, but the thundering footsteps on the stairs tell you she’s very much mobile.

​Your bedroom door flies open with a bang that makes your pens rattle.

​Lea stands there, her face a frantic shade of red, her chest heaving as if she’s just run a marathon. She’s clutching her phone with both hands, her knuckles white.

​"Y/N! Oh my god, Y/N, look! LOOK AT THE SCREEN!"

​"Lea, I’m right in the middle of—"

​"I don't care about your essay!" she shrieks, thrusting the phone inches from your nose. "The email! The Spotify email! It just came through!"

​You blink, trying to focus on the bright screen. It’s an official notification from Spotify. Your eyes scan the bold header:

​[INVITATION] EXCLUSIVE: SEA SIDE SWIM EVENT WITH BTS & SPOTIFY – NEW YORK CITY

​Your stomach does a slow somersault. Because you share a Premium family account and often play the Golden album while studying late at night to stay awake, your combined streaming numbers are astronomical.

​"You are among the top 1,000 listeners globally," you read aloud, your voice trailing off. "You have been selected for two complimentary passes to the private beach event in New York..."

​Lea grabs your shoulders, shaking you. "We’re going! We’re actually going to see Jungkook! In person! In New York!"

​You look at her, then back at the email, then at the pile of textbooks on your desk. "Lea, wait. Look at the date. This is in three days. We’re in Frankfurt. Do you have any idea what last-minute flights to JFK cost? Or a hotel in Manhattan during an event like this?"

​"I’ll use my savings! I’ll sell my bike! I’ll do anything!" she pleads, her eyes brimming with tears of pure desperation. "Y/N, please. This isn't just a concert. It's a private event. Only a thousand people. This never happens."

​You look at the "Golden" poster on her bedroom door across the hall, then back at your sister's hopeful face. The logical journalist in you says it’s an impossible trip. But the sister in you knows that opportunities like this don't just knock—they scream your door down.

​"New York," you whisper, the weight of the realization finally hitting you. "We’d have to leave by Thursday."

The atmosphere at the dinner table that evening is thick with a tension that usually only precedes exam results or broken vases. In your family home in Frankfurt, dinner is usually a quiet affair, but tonight, the air practically hums.

​You sit across from your parents, your laptop open at the end of the table—a habit from your Journalism studies that they usually frown upon, but tonight, it’s the command center. Lea is sitting next to you, vibrating with so much nervous energy that her fork clatters against her plate every time she tries to eat a bite of her Schnitzel.

​"So," your father says, breaking the silence. He looks from Lea’s desperate, wide-eyed expression to your calm, calculating gaze. "New York. In three days."

​"It's a once-in-a-lifetime thing, Papa," Lea blurs out, her voice cracking. "It’s not just a concert. It’s a private event. Only a thousand people in the world! And Y/N’s account got chosen!"

​Your mother sighs, looking at the screen where you’ve already pulled up flight prices from Frankfurt to JFK. The numbers are high,painfully high for a last-minute transatlantic trip. She looks at you, the "sensible" daughter. "Y/N, be honest with us. Is this even safe? Two girls alone in New York on such short notice?"

​"I’ve researched the venue," you say, flipping the laptop around to show them the official Spotify press release. "It’s a high-security private beach club. Everything is strictly regulated. As for the trip... I’ve already mapped out a budget-friendly hostel in Queens and the train routes. It’s a lot of money, I know. But for a Journalism student, even being in the vicinity of an event this exclusive... it’s a massive networking opportunity."

​You see your father’s expression soften. He knows how hard you’ve been working on your degree, and he knows that Lea hasn’t stopped talking about Jungkook since 2017.

​He looks at your mother, a silent conversation passing between them. He reaches out and covers Lea’s shaking hand with his own.

​"We know we can't take this away from you," he says quietly. "If we said no, you’d probably try to swim across the Atlantic anyway."

​Lea lets out a choked sob of relief.

​"We will help with the flight costs and the hotel," your mother adds, pointing a finger at both of you. "But this is your birthday and Christmas present combined for the next three years. And Y/N, you are in charge. You keep her grounded."

​"I promise," you say, feeling a strange mix of excitement and sudden pressure.

​Lea lunges across the table to hug your parents, screaming thank yous into their shoulders. You sit back, looking at the flight confirmation page. In seventy-two hours, you’ll be leaving the quiet streets of Frankfurt for the chaos of New York.

After the parental "green light," the house in Frankfurt transforms into a disaster zone of open suitcases and discarded hangers. To keep your sanity, you prop your phone up on your desk and FaceTime Joshua, your best friend and unofficial fashion consultant.

​"Josh, tell me I’m not dreaming," you say, tossing a pair of wide-leg trousers onto your bed.

​"You’re not dreaming, but you are currently packing like a librarian going to a tax convention," Joshua laughs, his face filling the screen as he leans back in his own room. "Y/N, this is New York. This is a Sea Side event with the biggest pop star on the planet. We need 'Journalist-meets-Hamptons-Chic,' not 'I’m-here-to-file-my-taxes.'"

​Just then, Lea streaks past your open door, clutching a stack of limited-edition photocards and a portable power bank. "DO WE HAVE ADAPTERS? Y/N, THE AMERICAN PLUGS ARE DIFFERENT! WHAT IF MY PHONE DIES?!"

​Joshua loses it, cackling into the microphone. "She is absolutely spiraling. It’s glorious."

​"She’s been like this for three hours," you sigh, though a smile tugs at your lips. "She’s currently trying to decide which of her twenty Jungkook keychains is 'NYC-coded.' It’s a crisis, Josh."

​"I mean, can you blame her?" Joshua leans in closer to the camera. "She’s basically been in a long-distance relationship with Jungkook since the tenth grade. In her head, this isn't a fan event, it's her wedding rehearsal."

​"Don't encourage her!" you hiss-whisper, laughing.

​"Ooh, yes. Very 'sophisticated European traveler,'" Joshua nods approvingly. "Pairs well with your 'I’m-too-busy-with-my-degree-to-scream' attitude. But seriously, Y/N... what if she actually gets close to him? What if you do?"

​You roll your eyes, stuffing a extra notebook into your carry-on. "Please. There are going to be a thousand fans there, plus security that looks like they were built in a lab. I’m just the chaperone. I’ll be the one standing in the back with a coffee, taking notes."

​"Right, right," Joshua smirks. "The cold, objective journalist. Just remember, even journalists have hearts. If JK flashes that bunny smile in your direction, I expect a full report on whether his eyes actually sparkle like the rumors say."

​"Whatever, Josh," you laugh, finally zip-closing the suitcase. "I'll call you from JFK. If Lea hasn't been arrested for 'excessive fangirling' by then."

​While the rest of the cabin is dimmed for rest, your reading light is a solitary beam of focus. Your laptop is balanced on the tray table, the cursor blinking steadily on your latest paragraph.

​Next to you, Lea is finally still. After three hours of vibrating with pure adrenaline and checking the flight map every five minutes, she has succumbed to exhaustion. She’s curled up under a thin airline blanket, her head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, still clutching her lanyard in her sleep. In her dreams, she’s already at the pier in New York.

​As the flute melodies swirl, you find yourself typing faster.

​"The parasocial relationship is no longer just a marketing tool; it is a cultural anchor," you type, pausing to watch the clouds. "When fans travel across continents for a single glance, it’s not just about the music—it’s about the search for a shared identity."

​You look over at Lea. She looks so young and hopeful. You realize that while you’re analyzing this world through a lens of objective journalism, she’s living it with her whole heart. You wonder, just for a second, what it would feel like to be that uninhibited. To not just write about the "story," but to be part of it.

​You shake the thought away, centering yourself with a sip of lukewarm tomato juice. You are a journalist. You are the observer. You are the one who keeps things under control.

​You feel like you're on the edge of something massive. You have your notes, your research, and your professional distance. You’re prepared for everything.

​Except, perhaps, for the one thing a journalist can never plan for: the moment the subject of the story looks back.

​"The 'Arirang' era isn't just a return to roots," you type, watching the horizon. "It is a reclamation of identity. Songs like 'Normal' and 'No. 29' suggest that the 'Golden' success was just a prelude to something much more human."

The heavy doors of the subway car hiss open, releasing a blast of sound, heat, and the unmistakable scent of oil and old dust. Welcome to the New York City subway.

​You and Lea drag your rolling suitcases onto the crowded J train, squeezing into a spot near the door. You look like two brightly colored tourists in a sea of monochrome NYC commuters, but you don't care.

​"New York!" you beam, practically bouncing on your heels, giving a nearby commuter a friendly grin that they definitely don't return. "Can you believe we’re here?"

​Lea doesn't answer. She is laser-focused on her phone, which is held up high, searching for a signal between stations. "Come on, come on... BigHit said the location update would drop at 9:00 AM EST. It’s 9:03! The servers must be crashing!"

​"They’re probably just waiting for dramatic effect," you say, looping your arm through hers so she doesn’t fall when the train lurches. You catch your reflection in the grimy window. Despite the 12-hour travel day, you still have that natural sparkle in your eyes that always makes people feel comfortable opening up to you—a trait that makes you a natural journalist.

​The train enters the elevated tracks, and suddenly, sunlight hits the car. Lea’s phone lets out a high-pitched 'ding!'

​"LOCATION CONFIRMED!" she shrieks, so loudly that the entire car turns to stare. You just laugh, giving a 'sorry' wave to your fellow passengers.

​"Where is it? A private beach?"

​"No! It's better! It’s right in Manhattan! PIER 17! At the Seaport! They’re turning the whole pier into a beach set!"

​"Okay," you declare, pulling Lea towards the door as the train stops at Canal Street. "The location is set. We have twenty-four hours to conquer this city. First stop: Outfits."

​The day is a blur of energy and laughter. You drag Lea through the busy streets of SoHo, where the shops are impossibly stylish. Despite being on a budget, you manage to find that perfect outfit Joshua would approve of: a flowy, white linen dress that catches the breeze and a vintage denim jacket from a local thrift store. It’s sweet, professional, and very 'you.'

​You impulsively decide to get your hair done. You opt for a wash, blow-dry, and professional styling. An hour later, you walk out looking like a different person. Your long hair, which is usually practical, is now flowing in soft, natural waves, falling perfectly over your shoulders. It bounces when you walk and frames your face with an effortless elegance.

​"Y/N," Lea says, her jaw dropping. "You look... amazing. Seriously. Like a model."

​"I look like a tourist who spent too much money," you laugh, though you love how the waves catch the late afternoon light. You flip your hair playfully. "Now, come on, future Mrs. Jeon. I believe you have a fanchant to practice."

​You link arms with her, both of you laughing as you walk down the street, your long, wavy hair cascading behind you. You have the outfits, you have the location, and you have that irrepressible sunshine energy. You are ready for Pier 17.

The hotel room in Lower Manhattan looks like a battlefield of glitter, curling irons, and discarded tissue paper. The air smells like high-end hairspray and nervous energy.

​While Lea is currently in the middle of a minor meltdown because she can't decide which photocard to put in the clear window of her bag, you are standing in front of the full-length mirror, surprisingly calm.

​You decide to pivot from the linen look. New York demands something with a bit more edge, a bit more soul.

​You slide into a long, champagne-colored silk skirt that clings to your hips in all the right places, perfectly accentuating your hourglass figure. You tuck in a simple, tight black bodysuit that fits like a second skin, creating a silhouette that is both elegant and effortless. To break up the softness, you throw on your oversized vintage leather jacket and lace up your trusty Dr. Martens.

​With your hair falling in those fresh, bouncy waves over your shoulders and a soft, "clean-girl" makeup look that enhances your natural glow, you look incredible. You aren't just a sweet girl from Frankfurt anymore; you look like a woman who belongs in the front row of a fashion show—or a high-stakes press conference.

​"Y/N, I can't do this! My hands are shaking too much to put on eyeliner!" Lea wails from the bathroom, clutching a liquid liner like it’s a thermal detonator.

​You walk over, gently taking the pen from her hand. You tuck a stray hair behind her ear and give her a reassuring smile. "Deep breaths, little bird. You look beautiful. Jungkook isn't going to care if your wing is two millimeters off, I promise."

​"You don't know that!" she squeaks, but she lets you finish her makeup. You find her excitement so sweet, so pure. It reminds you why you agreed to this madness in the first place.

​The drive to the Seaport is a crawl through NYC traffic, but the moment the taxi rounds the corner toward Pier 17, your breath catches.

​The Brooklyn Bridge looms massive and majestic to your right, its stone arches glowing in the afternoon light. But it’s the crowd that truly shocks you. Even for an invite-only event of 1,000 people, the energy is electric. A sea of fans the "Top 1000" is already snaking around the cobblestone streets.

​There are security guards with earpieces every ten feet, massive Spotify-branded banners fluttering in the salty breeze, and the faint, muffled sound of a soundcheck vibrating from the rooftop of the pier.

​"The line is huge," Lea whispers, suddenly shy as she clutches your arm. "Do you think we'll even get close?"

​You look up at the towering stage structure silhouetted against the East River. You feel that familiar spark of journalist intuition, mixed with a new, fluttering excitement you can't quite explain.

​"We’re on the list, Lea," you say, your voice steady as you lead her toward the VIP check-in. "And something tells me today is going to be full of surprises."

The efficiency of New York event security is a marvel to behold. Thanks to your early arrival and your German punctuality, you and Lea manage to breeze through the high-tech scanners at the entrance of Pier 17.

​"Y/N! Look!" Lea gasps, pulling you toward the barricade.

​Because of your "Top 1000" status, you aren't just in the venue you are practically touching the stage. You are in the very first row, the salt spray of the river misting your face.

​While Lea immediately dissolves into the community of fans around her, trading stories about how they got their tickets and debating which song from ARIRANG will open the set, you switch into your element.

​You pull your professional camera and your leather-bound notebook from your bag. This isn't just a concert to you; it’s a cultural phenomenon.

​"Excuse me, do you mind if I take a quick photo of your lightstick against the bridge?" you ask a fan next to you, your voice sweet and disarming.

​"Of course! You look so cool, by the way," the girl chirps, posing for you.

​You spend the next hour documenting the "vibe." You capture the way the light hits the 'Spotify x BTS' banners, the frantic joy of the fans, and the meticulous movements of the stage crew. Your long, wavy hair catches the river breeze, and more than a few people—including some of the event staff—linger a second too long when they look your way. You look like a professional, but there's an undeniable allure in the way your silk skirt moves as you crouch to get the perfect angle.

​"The atmosphere is a blend of high-fashion gala and beach party," you scribble in your notebook. "The fans here aren't just consumers; they are stakeholders in a global movement. There is a sense of impending history in the air."

​Suddenly, the house musica lo-fi remix of "Normal" fades out. The giant LED screens flanking the stage flicker to life with the ARIRANG logo.

​The roar that erupts from the crowd is deafening. Lea grabs your arm so hard her knuckles turn white. "It’s starting! Y/N, oh my god, it’s starting!"

​You tuck your notebook into your waistband, your heart beginning to hammer against your ribs. You’ve seen them on screens a thousand times because of Lea, but as the first notes of "SWIM" begin to vibrate through the floorboards of the pier, you realize that no camera can capture this kind of energy.

​And then, through the haze of stage mist and the golden New York light, the silhouettes appear.

​Seven of them.

​And right in the center, his eyes scanning the front row with a curious, sharp intensity, stands Jungkook.

The music from "SWIM" pulses through the weathered wood of the pier, the bass so potent you can feel the vibration in the pit of your stomach. High above, the seven silhouettes are moving with a precision that seems nearly unreal, dancing against the glow of the Manhattan skyline as the setting sun paints the city in gold.

And then, it happens.

During the bridge of a new song from the ARIRANG album, Jungkook separates from the group. He leaps with an ethereal lightness, moving from the main stage onto the narrow catwalk that cuts directly toward the barricades. The crowd detonates. The screaming is so overwhelming it swallows the rush of the East River entirely.

He’s getting closer. His black hair is damp with sweat, gleaming under the high-powered spotlights. He’s wearing a a fitted grey tank top with a jacket on top, his body line very much there, and his presence is so commanding that for a moment, you actually forget you're supposed to be here to 'document' the event.

He stops exactly in front of your section.

Next to you, Lea completely loses it. She’s gripping the cold metal of the barricade with both hands, tears streaming unchecked down her face, utterly speechless—she just stares at him as if he's an apparition from another dimension.

Jungkook kneels slightly, the microphone held tight, and sings the next few lines directly into your section. His gaze travels over the first few rows, searching, until it catches.

He sees Lea sob-laughing in front of him, and a gentle, almost amused smile plays on his lips. Then, his gaze moves a fraction further... to you.

You’re standing there, your camera loose around your neck, your leather jacket slightly slipping off one shoulder, and your hair blowing wildly in the breeze. While everyone around you is collapsing in ecstasy, you can’t help yourself: you look at your completely undone sister and you start to giggle. It’s such a typical Lea moment, so honest and sweet, that your natural "sunshine" demeanor just breaks through the 'professional' wall you tried to build.

Your bright, heartfelt laughter is so different in this moment, a clear note rising above the hysterical screaming of the other fans.

Jungkook freezes. His gaze locks onto your face. He sees you giggling, sees your eyes sparkling with genuine amusement, and how untroubled you are amidst the chaos. For a heartbeat, he nearly breaks song. He tilts his head just a tiny bit, his dark eyes flaring, and he gives you a direct, mischievous smirk before straightening up and continuing the melody.

It was just one second. But in that second, he didn't see "Fan Number 452." He saw the person laughing at the chaos.

​The final notes of the encore—the high-energy, defiant anthem "Hooligan"—still seem to vibrate in the very marrow of your bones as the stage lights finally dim to a soft, ambient purple. The roar of the thousand fans at Pier 17 is a physical force, a collective exhale of pure, unadulterated joy.

​"Y/N! Did you see? Did you see him look at us?!" Lea is practically vibrating, her face tear-stained but glowing with a happiness you’ve never seen before. She’s already busy swapping handles with the girls next to her, desperate to collect every video and photo of the moment Jungkook stood in front of you.

​"I saw, Lea. I definitely saw," you laugh, giving her a quick squeeze. "Listen, stay here, take your photos, trade your socials. I need some air and a quiet second to get these thoughts down before I lose the thread. I’ll be just past the security gates by the water, okay?"

​She barely nods, already deep in a conversation about Jungkook’s vocal stability. You smile, shake your head, and navigate your way through the exiting crowd.

​You walk a few hundred yards away from the main event area, toward a quieter stretch of the pier where the iron railing meets the dark, swirling waters of the East River. The Manhattan skyline is fully illuminated now—a jagged, diamond-crusted horizon that feels close enough to touch. The cool night breeze catches your wavy hair, and you pull your leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, finally sitting down on a weathered wooden bench.

​You pull out your leather notebook and a pen. The "sunshine" energy is still there, but it’s softened into a deep, reflective calm. You begin to write, the ink flowing as fast as your thoughts.

​"I came here as a skeptic—or at least, as an objective observer. I expected a spectacle of idol worship. But what I witnessed at Pier 17 was a masterclass in human connection. It isn't just about the choreography or the perfectly hit high notes. It’s the vulnerability in 'Normal' and the raw power of '2.0'. BTS isn't just a group of seven handsome men; they are architects of a feeling."

​You pause, looking up at the Brooklyn Bridge. You think about the moment Jungkook locked eyes with you. You hadn't been screaming; you had been laughing at the sheer, beautiful absurdity of your sister’s joy. And he had seen that. He had seen you.

​You look down at your page and jot down a final, stray thought that feels more personal than professional:

​"Music is a universal language, but it’s the silence between the notes where you really find someone. Music is better with you—whoever 'you' may be in that moment of connection."

​You close the notebook with a satisfied click of your pen. You feel light, inspired, and completely unaware of the blacked-out SUV idling at the curb just thirty feet behind your bench, or the dark-eyed man behind the tinted glass who is currently pointing you out to his manager.

​"That girl," Jungkook says in the backseat, his voice quiet but certain. "The one with the long hair and the camera. She wasn't crying. She was... she was just happy to be there. Find out if she's with the press or just a guest."

Inside the darkened SUV, the air is thick with the scent of expensive leather and the fading adrenaline of the show. Jungkook is still leaning forward, his eyes fixed on your silhouette against the New York skyline. To him, you look like a cinematic frame, a girl in a silk skirt and a leather jacket, hair dancing in the wind, lost in her own world of thoughts and ink.

​"That one," Jungkook repeats, his voice carrying a rare edge of curiosity. "She wasn't like the others. She laughed when I looked at her. Not at me, but... with the moment. See if she’s with a local outlet."

​A heavy silence falls over the car. Namjoon, sitting in the front passenger seat, turns around slowly. He looks exhausted but sharp, the responsible leader already shifting into "protection mode."

​"Jungkook-ah," Namjoon says, his voice low and steady. "Stop. Look at where we are. Look at the lanyard she’s probably wearing under that jacket."

​"She has a professional camera, Hyung. She could be press," Jungkook counters, though his gaze doesn't waver from you.

​"Even if she is, she’s in the 'Top 1000' section. That makes her a fan by definition," Yoongi chimes in from the back corner, his eyes closed as he leans against the headrest. "And you know the protocol. We just finished the first show of the ARIRANG era. The last thing we need is a love headline in the New York tabloids."

​Namjoon nods, his expression sympathetic but firm. "The rules are there for a reason, JK. No private contact. No 'finding out' who they are. It complicates everything..their lives and ours. She’s a guest who had a great time. Let it stay a beautiful memory."

​Jungkook sinks back into the plush seat, his jaw tightening slightly. He knows they're right. The "No Dating, No Private Involvement" rule isn't just a line in a contract; it’s the invisible wall that keeps their world from collapsing. He’s the "Golden" maknae, and every move he makes is scrutinized by millions.

​He looks out the window one last time as the SUV begins to pull away. You’re still there, tucking your notebook into your bag, your face illuminated by the soft glow of your phone. You look so... normal. So reachable.

​"Rules," Jungkook mutters under his breath, a faint, bittersweet smile touching his lips. "Always the rules."

​"It’s for the best," Namjoon adds gently, checking his own phone for the post-show brief. "We have an early flight to LA tomorrow. Forget the girl on the bench."

​But as the car speeds toward the Midtown tunnel, Jungkook finds himself humming the melody of "Normal." He can't help but wonder what you were writing in that book, and if by some miracle of the New York night, your paths were ever meant to cross again without a barricade between them.

The sunlight streaming through the window of your small hotel room in Manhattan is bright, but it’s the light from your phone that’s currently blinding you.

​You had fallen asleep in your silk skirt, too exhausted to even change, while Lea was still huddled over her screen. Now, at 8:00 AM, you are woken up by the sound of a thousand digital birds chirping—your notifications have officially exploded.

​"Y/N! WAKE UP! YOU’RE TRENDING!"

​Lea practically falls off her bed, shoving her phone into your face. You squint, rubbing your eyes, and then you see it.

TikTok. The caption reads: "WHO IS SHE? The only girl in NYC not crying when JK got this close. Look at his reaction!! 😭✨ #BTSxSpotify #JungkookNYC"

​The video is crystal clear. It shows the moment Jungkook knits his brow, leans in, and sings directly toward your section. Lea is visible next to you, a beautiful, sobbing mess of pure fan joy. And then there’s you.

​The camera catches your profile, your long, wavy hair catching the stage light, your smile widening as you let out that genuine, effortless giggle at your sister. Then, the camera zooms in on Jungkook. The transition is undeniable. His professional "idol" mask slips for a fraction of a second. His eyes widen, he tracks your laughter, and he gives that specific, tilted-head smirk—a look of genuine, human intrigue—before he has to turn away.

​@JK_Global: "She literally laughed in his face and he LOVED it. Teach us your ways, Queen."

​@Seven_Springs: "He didn't just look at her. He noticed her. Look at Namjoon in the background of this other angle... he’s watching them both."

​The comments are a war zone of "Who is she?" and "I’m so jealous but she’s so cute."

​"Y/N, you're a meme! A beautiful, stylish, viral meme!" Lea is hyperventilating. "People are calling you 'The Golden Girl' because you handled the 'Golden' maknae like a normal human being!"

​You sit up, running a hand through your messy waves, feeling a flush of heat creep up your neck. You’re a Journalism student; you’re supposed to be the one writing the stories, not being the headline.

​"I was just laughing at you, Lea," you groan, though you can't help but re-watch the clip. Seeing his expression in slow motion makes your stomach do that weird somersault again. He really did look at you.

​"It doesn't matter why you were laughing," Lea says, her eyes wide as she scrolls through more updates. "The whole fandom is trying to find your Instagram. They’ve already figured out you’re from Germany because of the Frankfurt airport tag I posted yesterday!"

​Suddenly, a new notification pops up on your screen. It's an email from a major international music blog.

​Subject: Interview Request / Permission to use footage

​Your heart skips. Your "sunshine" personality and that one moment of raw, human connection have just done more for your career and your life—than any essay could.

​"We need to get to the airport," you say, jumping out of bed. "If I’m going viral, I at least want to have brushed my teeth before we run into any more 'coincidences' in this city."

​The atmosphere at JFK International Airport is a chaotic symphony of rolling suitcases, overhead announcements, and the smell of expensive espresso. You and Lea are huddled at a gate in Terminal 4, waiting for your long haul back to Frankfurt.

​You’ve pulled your hair back into a casual, messy bun and you’re wearing your oversized leather jacket over a comfy hoodie. You’re back in "student mode," perched on a uncomfortable metal chair with your laptop open, trying to process the madness of the last twelve hours.

​"Y/N, look," Lea whispers, nudging you sharply. She’s staring at her phone. "The paparazzi just posted. They’re at the private terminal across the airfield. The boys are leaving for LA right now."

​"Good for them," you say, though your heart gives a traitorous little thump. "They have a world to conquer, and I have a 3,000-word essay on digital ethics to finish. Besides, after that video went viral, I’m pretty sure I’m on a 'Do Not Approach' list somewhere."

​You turn back to your screen, but you aren't typing. You’re looking at the draft of your blog post: Music is Better With You.

​Suddenly, the quiet hum of the gate is broken. A group of men in black suits and face masks moves swiftly through the VIP corridor adjacent to your seating area. It’s not the main group it’s the advanced security detail and a few staff members.

​And then, walking several paces behind them, flanked by a manager, is a familiar figure. He’s wearing a grey oversized hoodie, a black beanie pulled low, and a mask that covers everything but those sharp, observant eyes.

​Jungkook.

​The gate area is relatively empty, but Lea freezes, her breath catching in her throat. She doesn't scream she’s too stunned. You, on the other hand, just sit there, your laptop glowing in the dim terminal light.

​As they pass the glass partition, Jungkook’s stride slows. He isn't supposed to look at the "regular" passengers, but his gaze drifts toward the seating area.

​He sees a girl with a leather jacket and a messy bun, a laptop balanced on her knees. He sees the "Journalist" he noticed on the pier.

​For a second, the world stops.

​Through the glass, his eyes lock onto yours. He recognizes you instantly the girl who laughed. The girl who didn't cry. The girl who went viral for being normal.

​He doesn't wave. He doesn't stop. But as he walks past, he reaches up and slowly pulls his mask down just an inch, revealing a flash of that same tilted-head smirk from the video. It’s a silent acknowledgment a "thank you" for the moment of humanity in the middle of his whirlwind life.

​"He... he looked at you again," Lea whispers, her voice trembling. "Y/N, he definitely looked at you."

​You watch the back of his grey hoodie disappear into the jet bridge.

You look down at your laptop, at the final sentence of your essay.

​You delete the last period and add one more line:

​"Sometimes, the most important stories aren't the ones we publish. They’re the ones we keep in the silence of an airport gate, knowing that for one second, the world wasn't divided into 'Idol' and 'Fan'—it was just two people sharing a look."

​You close your laptop with a snap.

The airport terminal is a labyrinth, and your energy has been slightly dampened by a sudden, desperate need for caffeine before the long flight back to Frankfurt.

​"I'll be right back, Lea," you say, grabbing your wallet. "Two oat milk lattes. Don't move."

​You start walking, lost in your thoughts about the essay and the viral video, following the signs for a premium coffee bar. You push through a heavy, frosted glass door, thinking it’s the entrance to the cafe. Instead, the air suddenly becomes quiet, smelling of expensive sandalwood and fresh lilies. You’ve accidentally stumbled straight into the First Class Private Lounge.

​"Oh, mist," you mutter in German, realizing your mistake. You turn to dash back out, but your frantic pivot sends you crashing right into a solid chest.

​The impact is enough to make you stumble. You look up, an apology already on your lips. "I am so sorry, I took a wrong turn—"

​The words die in your throat.

​Standing right in front of you, without his mask now, is Jungkook. Up close, without the stage lights or the distance of a pier, he is breathtaking. His skin is glowing, and his eyes dark, wide, and currently full of surprise are fixed directly on yours.

​The silence between you is electric. You feel the "Journalist" in you freeze, while the "Sunshine" in you just stands there, breathless.

​"Oh," he says softly. His English is smooth, a little shy. "The girl from the pier."

​You can't help it; even in your shock, a small, embarrassed smile breaks across your face. "And you're the one who caused my phone to melt today."

​He lets out a genuine, breathy laugh the kind you don't hear in interviews. He looks at the two empty cups in your hand and then at the barista behind the sleek marble counter. He says something quick in Korean to his staff member nearby, then turns back to you.

​"Latte?" he asks, tilting his head.

​"Oat milk," you manage to say, your heart hammering against your ribs.

​He nods to the barista and pulls out a black card, tapping it before you can even reach for your wallet. He orders the exact same thing for himself. As the machine hisses, he leans against the counter, just a foot away from you.

​"I saw the video," he says, his voice low so the managers across the room don't overhear. "You were the only one laughing. It was... nice. To see someone just being happy."

​"My sister was doing enough crying for both of us," you joke, your natural charm returning even under the pressure.

​He reaches into the pocket of his oversized hoodie. His hand brushes yours a brief, warm spark of contact as he presses something small into your palm.

​It’s two VIP Lanyards for the upcoming ARIRANG Promo Event in Los Angeles. These aren't just fan tickets; they are 'All-Access' passes, the kind money can't buy.

​"For the journalist," he whispers, a playful glint in his eyes. "And for your sister. So she doesn't have to cry in the front row next time."

​The barista hands over the drinks. Jungkook takes his, adjusts his beanie, and gives you one last, lingering look the kind that says the "No Dating" rule is the only thing keeping him from asking for your number right here in the lounge.

​"see you in LA, Y/N," he says, using your name for the first time.

​Before you can ask how he knew it, he’s gone, disappearing through a side exit with his team. You stand there in the middle of the silent lounge, two hot lattes in your hands and the weight of Los Angeles in your pocket.

​You walk back out to the gate, where Lea is waiting. You hand her the coffee, your face glowing with a light that has nothing to do with the airport sun.

​"Change of plans, Lea," you say, showing her the lanyards. "We aren't going to be in Frankfurt for very long."

​You are standing in the middle of the crowded JFK terminal, but for you, the world is still spinning in that quiet, sandalwood-scented lounge. You open your hand, revealing the two heavy, holographic VIP Lanyards for the Los Angeles promo.

​Lea’s eyes go wide. She looks at the lanyards, then at your face, then back at the lanyards. The realization hits her like a freight train. She doesn't just scream; she collapses onto the terminal seating, letting out a sob that is half-laugh, half-hyperventilation.

​"Y/N... where... how did you..."

​"I walked into the wrong room," you whisper, leaning in close so no one else can hear. "I ran into him, Lea. Literally. I walked straight into his chest. He paid for the coffees. He... he gave me these. He remembered me from the pier."

​Lea’s head falls into her hands. "You ran into Jungkook. You smelled his perfume. He gave you these? I am going to faint. I am actually going to die right here at Gate B23."

​"You’re not dying," you laugh, pulling her up.

​Your journalist brain, usually so logical, has been completely hijacked by your impulsivity. You check your phone. Because of your student travel insurance and a bit of luck, you manage to navigate the airline app to rebook. With a heavy fee and a silent apology to your parents’ credit card you swap the Frankfurt leg for the next flight to LAX.

​"We're going to California," you declare, your eyes shining. "Right now."

​The boarding call for the Los Angeles flight comes an hour later. It feels surreal. You and Lea move through the jet bridge, your hearts hammering in sync.

​As you step onto the plane, the flight attendant directs you toward the back, but the path takes you right through the Business Class cabin.

​The cabin is quiet, shielded by heavy curtains and a sense of extreme privacy. Most passengers are already settled with their eye masks on, but as you walk down the aisle, clutching your backpack, you pass a row where a familiar grey hoodie is visible.

​Jungkook is sitting by the window, his large headphones around his neck. He’s looking at a tablet, but as the shadow of a passenger passes, he looks up.

​His eyes meet yours.

​He doesn't say a word he can't, with his managers sitting just a row behind him but the look he gives you is intense. His gaze drops to the lanyards peeking out of your pocket, and a slow, triumphant smirk spreads across his face.

​Namjoon looks up, recognizes the "Viral Girl" from the pier, and his eyes go wide. He looks at Jungkook, then at you, then back at Jungkook with an expression that says, 'You have got to be kidding me.'

​You give them a tiny, polite nodthe perfect polite greeting and keep walking, pulling a frozen, star-struck Lea behind you toward Economy.

​You reach your seats in the back of the plane, buckling in as the engines begin to roar.

​"He saw us," Lea whispers, her voice finally reaching a pitch only dogs can hear. "He saw that we’re on the flight. Y/N, we’re on a plane with BTS. We’re going to LA. This isn't a story anymore... this is a movie."

​You look out the window as the plane lifts off, the New York skyline disappearing beneath the wings. You pull out your notebook and write one single sentence on a fresh page:

​Destination: Los Angeles. Status: No longer an observer.

The heavy curtain between Business Class and Economy swings shut behind you, but the silence in the front cabin is deafening.

​Namjoon remains frozen for a moment, his gaze fixed on the spot where you just disappeared. He slowly turns his head, his expression shifting from disbelief to a look of sheer, exhausted parental concern. He pulls his noise-canceling headphones down around his neck and leans across the aisle toward Jungkook.

​Jungkook is still staring at the curtain, a small, triumphant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks far too pleased with himself for someone who just broke every rule in the BigHit handbook.

​"Jungkook-ah," Namjoon whispers, his voice low and vibrating with a warning tone that usually makes the younger members sit up straight.

​Jungkook finally turns, his eyes bright. "Hyung? Did you see? She’s on the flight. What are the odds of that?"

​"The odds don't matter," Namjoon says, rubbing his temples. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a hiss so the managers in the row behind them don't overhear. "Did you give those to her? The 'All-Access' promo lanyards for LA?"

​Jungkook doesn't answer immediately. He just reaches for his water bottle, taking a slow sip, his silence acting as a confession.

​Namjoon lets out a long, jagged sigh. "Jungkook, look at me. You are in deep, deep trouble."

​"It was just a gesture, Hyung," Jungkook counters, his voice defensive but quiet. "She’s a journalist. Or a student. She’s smart, she’s not like—"

​"It doesn't matter if she’s the Queen of England!" Namjoon interrupts, his eyes darting toward the staff members. "You tracked her down in the lounge. You gave her untraceable VIP access. If Dispatch finds out you’re personally inviting 'The Viral Girl' from the NYC pier to our private events in LA... do you have any idea what that does to the ARIRANG launch? Do you know what that does to her life?"

​Jungkook’s smirk finally fades. He looks down at his hands, the reality of Namjoon’s words sinking in. He’s spent his whole life in a gold cage, and for a second in that lounge, he tried to open the door.

​"She has a good energy," Jungkook mutters. "I just wanted to see if she’d actually show up."

​"She’s on the plane, isn't she?" Namjoon gestures toward the back of the aircraft. "She’s showing up. And now, for the next five hours, we are trapped in a metal tube with the one person you are strictly forbidden from talking to. If the managers see you even look toward Economy, it’s over. Keep your mask on. Keep your head down. And for the love of everything, stay in your seat."

​Jungkook leans back, pulling his beanie lower over his eyes. He listens to the hum of the engines, but his mind is already ten rows back.

​He knows Namjoon is right. He’s in trouble. But as he closes his eyes, he can still feel the warmth of your smile from the lounge, and he realizes that for the first time in a long time, the trouble feels worth it.

Ten rows back in Economy, the air feels thinner not because of the cabin pressure, but because Lea is currently having a localized atmospheric collapse.

​She is gripped by a state of silent, wide-eyed hysteria. She hasn't touched her tomato juice, and her hands are locked around the armrests of her seat so tightly that her knuckles are a ghostly white. She keeps leaning into the aisle, staring at the heavy navy-blue curtain that separates the "mortals" from the "idols."

​"Y/N," she whispers, her voice vibrating at a frequency that suggests a total system failure. "How? How am I supposed to sit here for five hours? They are right there. Behind that piece of fabric. Jungkook is sitting in a chair. He’s breathing the same recycled air as me. He might be... I don't know... eating a snack right now!"

​"Lea, please," you say, trying to keep your composure while your own heart is doing a rhythmic dance against your ribs. "You need to act normal. If you start hyperventilating, the flight attendants will think there’s a medical emergency."

​"Normal?!" she squeaks, turning to you with an expression of pure betrayal. "You ran into him! You looked into his eyes! You probably smelled his shampoo! And now we are on a plane together! My 'bias' is essentially in the next room, and you’re telling me to be normal?"

​You reach over and gently pry one of her hands off the armrest, squeezing it. "Think about it this way: He gave us those lanyards because he liked that we weren't screaming. If we start a riot on a Delta flight, he’s going to regret ever meeting us. You want him to think German fans are cool and collected, right?"

​Lea takes a jagged, shaky breath. She looks at the "ARIRANG" lanyard peeking out of your bag and then back at the curtain. "Cool. Right. Cool. Collected. Professional. I am a stone. I am a mountain. I am... oh my god, what if he goes to the bathroom?"

​You can't help it; you let out a quiet giggle, your long waves bouncing as you shake your head. "Then he’ll go to the bathroom in Business Class, Lea. They have their own. Now, put your headphones on. Listen to 'Normal'. Internalize the lyrics. Manifest the 'Normal' energy."

​"I can't listen to the album! It’ll make me think of the choreo! Which will make me think of his thighs! Which will make me scream!" she whispers frantically.

​You sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest. Your "sunshine" personality is being put to the ultimate test. You look out the window at the vast, sun-drenched landscape of the American Midwest passing below.

​You think about Namjoon’s face when he saw you. You think about the "deep trouble" Jungkook is likely in right now. You realize that while Lea is worried about being "cool," you’re the one who actually has to navigate the fallout. You’re a journalism student, and you’ve just been handed the biggest "exclusive" of your life except you can never, ever write about it.

​"Just close your eyes, Lea," you murmur. "Dream about Los Angeles. Because once we land at LAX, the real chaos starts."

​Lea finally leans back, clutching a pillow to her chest. "I’m trying, Y/N. But if I hear his voice through that curtain, I’m not responsible for my actions."

Three hours into the flight, the cabin has settled into a dim, restless hush. Most of the passengers in Economy are tangled in thin blankets, the blue light from their seatback screens reflecting off tired faces. Lea has finally succumbed to exhaustion, her head lolling against the window, fast asleep.

​You, however, are wide awake. Your energy has transitioned into a quiet restlessness. Your throat feels dry from the recycled cabin air, and no matter how many times you try to close your eyes, you see that smirk in the lounge.

​You slide out of your seat, careful not to wake Lea, and pad down the aisle in your slippers toward the back galley. You’re looking for a flight attendant to ask for a hot herbal tea, but the rear station is empty, cluttered with used meal trays.

​You head toward the middle of the plane, spotting a crew member near the heavy navy curtains.

​"Excuse me," you whisper, your voice a bit raspy. "Is there any chance I could get a hot chamomile tea? The back galley is empty."

​The flight attendant, a busy-looking woman with a kind smile, glances at her watch. "Oh, honey, my colleague is currently resetting the carts in the forward galley. Go ahead through the curtain—just be very quiet, most of the First Class passengers are resting. She’ll fix you up right away."

​Your heart skips a beat. "Through... there?"

​"Just keep walking to the very front," she nods, pulling the curtain aside for you.

​You step through the heavy fabric, and the atmosphere changes instantly. The air here is cooler, smelling of expensive cologne and citrus. The seats are large, private pods, bathed in a soft, violet ambient light.

​You walk as softly as possible. You try to keep your eyes fixed forward, but as you pass row 3, you can’t help it.

​There he is.

​Jungkook isn't sleeping. He’s slumped sideways in his seat, his long legs stretched out, staring at the small window where the moonlight hits the clouds. He’s wearing his glasses now, looking soft and incredibly human.

​As you pass, the floorboard gives a tiny, rhythmic creak.

​He turns his head instantly. In the dim purple light, his dark eyes lock onto yours. He doesn't look surprised this time; he looks like he was waiting for a ghost to appear.

​You freeze for a second, a flush rising to your cheeks. You give him a tiny, apologetic wave a silent 'I'm just getting tea' gesture.

​Instead of nodding back, Jungkook sits up slightly. He glances toward the front where the manager is sleeping, then looks back at you. He raises a finger to his lips in a "shh" motion, his eyes dancing with that same mischievous glint.

​Then, he reaches into the small side console of his seat, pulls out a small, wrapped chocolate the kind they only serve in Business Class—and holds it out toward the aisle.

​It’s a silent invitation. A tiny rebellion in the middle of the night.

​You hesitate, your journalism brain screaming about "professional boundaries" and Namjoon’s "deep trouble" warning. But your heart wins. You step closer, your fingers brushing his warm palm as you take the chocolate.

​"Thank you," you mouth silently.

​He smiles a real, bunny-toothed smile that isn't for the cameras. "Sleep well, Y/N," he mouths back, his voice nothing more than a breath of air.

​You tuck the chocolate into your pocket and hurry toward the forward galley, your heart drumming a frantic rhythm. You get your tea, but as you walk back through the curtain to your cramped seat in Economy, you realize you don't feel tired at all.

​You sit down next to a snoring Lea, pull out the small gold-wrapped chocolate, and realize that in this high-altitude game of cat and mouse, the rules are starting to feel very far away.

The wheels of the Boeing 787 hit the tarmac at LAX with a definitive thud, jolting the cabin into a flurry of activity. The sun is blindingly bright, reflecting off the polished silver wings—a stark contrast to the moody, purple-lit cabin of the night.

​"We’re here. We’re actually in California," Lea whispers, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She looks around frantically, her gaze immediately darting toward the front of the plane. "Do you think... do you think they're still there?"

​You don't say anything, but you reach into your pocket and feel the small, gold-wrapped chocolate Jungkook gave you in the middle of the night. It’s a secret weight, a silent tether to the man sitting ten rows ahead.

​The chime sounds, and the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign flickers off. Usually, there’s a rush to the aisles, but today, there is a strange, forced delay. Two flight attendants stand firmly at the front of the Economy cabin, their arms crossed.

​"Please remain seated for a moment while our VIP passengers deplane," one of them announces over the PA system.

​Lea grabs your arm, her nails digging into your leather jacket. "They’re leaving! Y/N, they’re getting off right now!"

​You watch the navy-blue curtain. You don't see them, but you hear the muffled sound of heavy footsteps, the hushed commands of security detail, and the faint clatter of gear. It’s a military-grade extraction. Within three minutes, the "First Class" section is a ghost town.

​By the time the curtain is finally pulled back and you are allowed to shuffle forward, the Business Class cabin is empty. The plush seats are reset, the bottled waters are gone, and the only trace of their presence is the lingering scent of sandalwood and expensive citrus in the air.

​You walk past Row 3. You linger for just a half-second, your eyes scanning the seat where Jungkook was slumped just hours ago. It’s perfectly neat now, as if he was never there. But on the small side console, right where you took the chocolate, someone has left a folded-up flight menu.

​You pause, pretending to adjust your backpack, and take a quick look. On the back of the menu, scribbled in black ink, is a tiny drawing of a bunny with a camera. Beneath it, three words in English:

​"See you, Journalist."

​Your heart performs a frantic somersault. You quickly slide the menu into your notebook, your smile threatening to split your face.

​"Come on, Lea," you say, pulling your sister toward the exit. "We have a schedule to keep."

​The moment you step out into the terminal, the reality of Los Angeles hits you like a heatwave. Even though the boys have been gone for ten minutes, the airport is still swarming. Paparazzi with massive lenses are sprinting toward the parking garage, and groups of local fans are huddled near the windows, hoping for a glimpse of the black SUVs.

​"They're gone," Lea sighs, her shoulders slumping as she looks at the empty VIP exit. "I missed it. I didn't even see the back of his head."

​"It's okay," you say, patting her shoulder as you lead her toward the ride-share pickup. You feel the weight of the lanyards in your bag and the menu in your notebook. "The event isn't until tomorrow night. And something tells me, this time, we won't be standing in the back."

​As you step into the bright California sun, waiting for your Uber, you look at the palm trees and the hazy blue sky. You’re a journalism student from Frankfurt, you’re halfway across the world, and you’re currently carrying a secret note from the world’s biggest pop star.

​The hotel in West Hollywood is a sun-drenched sanctuary of white stucco and palm fronds. After the high-altitude tension of the flight, the ground finally feels solid beneath your feet even if your life feels like it’s floating somewhere in the stratosphere.

​"Y/N, the girls from the LA fanbase are meeting at a cafe on Melrose! They have extra photocards from the ARIRANG pop-up!" Lea is practically vibrating as she throws her suitcase onto the bed. "Are you coming?"

​"Go ahead, sweetie," you say, giving her a reassuring "sunshine" smile as you unzip your own bag. "I need to walk off the jet lag. My brain is still stuck in a German time zone, and I want to get some 'on-the-ground' notes for my project anyway."

​"You’re the best! Don't get lost!" She blows you a kiss and bolts out the door, her purple lightstick peeking out of her backpack.

​Stepping onto the streets of Los Angeles is like walking into a high-definition movie. The air is warm, smelling of jasmine and exhaust fumes, and the light has a golden, hazy quality that makes everything look slightly blurred at the edges.

​But it’s not just the scenery that’s cinematic. As you walk down Santa Monica Boulevard, you realize the city has been completely colonized by seven men. Their faces are everywhere. On the sides of passing buses, on digital kiosks, and draped over the sides of skyscrapers. BTS isn't just visiting; they own the skyline.

​You walk with your camera around your neck, your long waves catching the California breeze. You feel light, unburdened. You duck into a few vintage boutiques, but eventually, you find yourself wandering toward a sleek, minimalist storefront on a high-end corner.

​Calvin Klein.

​You step inside, the air-conditioning a welcome relief from the afternoon heat. You decide to treat yourself to something small—a classic set of black cotton underwear, simple and confident, much like your style.

​As you stand in line at the register, you look up.

​Spanning the entire back wall of the store is a massive, black-and-white portrait. It’s a new campaign image.

​It’s Jungkook.

​He’s wearing nothing but a pair of dark denim jeans, his jacket hanging loosely off one shoulder, exposing the intricate ink of his sleeve and the sharp, athletic lines of his torso. His expression is raw, intense, and impossibly cool—the "Global Icon" personified.

​You freeze, your hand mid-air as you reach for your wallet.

​Just twelve hours ago, this man was slumped in a plane seat, wearing glasses and a grey hoodie, handing you a chocolate in the dark. Now, he’s towering over you as a god of modern fashion. The contrast is dizzying. You look at the "bunny" drawing in your notebook and then back at the giant, smoldering billboard.

​"Your change, miss?" the cashier asks, pulling you back to reality.

​"Oh, yes. Sorry," you murmur, feeling a heat creep up your neck that has nothing to do with the sun. You take your bag, but you can't help one last look at the poster.

​He isn't just a guy; he’s a monument.

​You walk out of the store into the bright LA light, clutching your small shopping bag. You feel a strange mix of intimidation and a secret, bubbling excitement. Tomorrow night, the monument and the girl from Frankfurt are going to be in the same room again.

The late afternoon sun in Los Angeles has a way of turning everything honey-colored. You stop at a small, minimalist cafe near the coast, picking up an iced matcha latte the vibrant green color a sharp contrast to your white summer dress.

​With the cold cup condensation dampening your palm, you wander toward the shoreline. You find a quiet spot away from the main tourist piers, where the Pacific Ocean rolls in with a steady, rhythmic roar. You settle onto the sand, tucking your silk skirt around your knees and letting the sea breeze play with your long, wavy hair.

​It’s peaceful. For the first time since Frankfurt, the "journalist" brain is quiet. You aren't thinking about headlines or viral videos; you’re just a girl watching the horizon.

​About ten minutes later, you notice a figure approaching from the periphery. Out of all the empty space on the beach, this person chooses to sit on a low stone wall just a few feet away from you.

​The stranger is swathed in an oversized black hoodie despite the California warmth, with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and a mask tucked under his chin. He looks like someone who desperately wants to disappear, yet there is something undeniably familiar about the way he carries his shoulders.

​He doesn't say anything. He just sits there, bracing his elbows on his knees, staring out at the same waves you are.

​You don't panic. You don't reach for your camera. Instead, you simply turn your head and catch his profile. Even with the cap shadowing his face, you recognize the bridge of that nose and the piercing in his ear that catches the sunlight.

​You take a slow sip of your matcha and offer him a soft, genuine smile—the kind you’d give a friend you haven't seen in a while. You don't whisper his name. You don't ask for a photo. You just acknowledge his presence with a kind, quiet warmth, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the two of you to be sharing the sunset.

​He shifts slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours from under the brim of the hat. He sees the lack of a phone in your hand. He sees that you aren't calling out to the people passing by.

​He lets out a long, quiet exhale a sound of pure relief. For a moment, the "Global Icon" from the Calvin Klein wall is gone, replaced by the young man who just wanted to hear the ocean.

​He reaches down, picks up a small, smooth seashell from the wall, and slides it toward you across the stone. He doesn't stay; he stands up almost immediately, nodding once in your direction before pulling his mask up and disappearing back toward the parking lot where a black SUV is waiting.

​You pick up the shell, its surface still warm from the sun.

​"See you tomorrow," you murmur to the wind, your heart feeling light and steady.

The vibe at the Los Angeles beach club is a complete departure from the industrial cool of Pier 17. Here, the air is thick with the scent of salt and expensive sunblock, and the golden hour light makes the entire "Sea Side Swim" set look like a high-end film production.

​You’re wearing a light, pistachio-green silk summer dress that flows beautifully in the Pacific breeze. It’s simple, elegant, and perfectly highlights your silhouette without trying too hard. Your hair is down, those long waves framing your face, and your only accessory is the heavy VIP lanyard Jungkook gave you. You look radiant, a quiet point of calm in the middle of a thousand buzzing fans.

​Lea is practically vibrating next to you. "Y/N, we’re in the VIP pit. This is actually happening. If I pass out, just leave me here and tell Jungkook I loved him."

​You give her a soft, reassuring smile, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "You’re staying on your feet, Lea. We have a show to watch."

​When the bass finally kicks in and the seven members of BTS walk onto the stage, the scream from the crowd is bone-shaking. They look incredible in their relaxed, California-inspired ARIRANG outfits. As they take their positions for the opening talk, Namjoon begins his usual charismatic welcome, his eyes scanning the front rows with professional ease.

​Then, he sees you.

​His gaze halts for a fraction of a second. He sees the green dress, the calm smile, and the VIP pass hanging around your neck. A visible, heavy sigh escapes him a "here we go again" exhale that is completely lost on the screaming crowd. But you catch it. You see the way his shoulders drop slightly in defeat, and you can’t help but give him a tiny, apologetic shrug.

​Jungkook, standing just a few feet away, follows Namjoon’s gaze. When he finds you, his entire face transforms. He doesn't smirk this time; he just looks... relieved. Like he’s found a familiar landmark in a sea of strangers.

​The Q&A segment begins, and to the shock of everyone around you, a staff member walks straight to your section and hands the microphone directly to you.

​You take it with steady hands, your voice clear and warm as it echoes through the massive speakers.

​"First of all, congratulations on the launch," you begin, your tone professional yet kind. "In the track 'Normal', there’s a recurring theme about the cost of maintaining a public identity versus a private one. My question is: In an era where everything is documented and shared, how do you protect the 'normal' parts of yourselves that aren't for sale? Is it a place, a person, or a mindset?"

​The crowd goes quiet. It’s a deep, thoughtful question that cuts through the usual "I love you" shouts.

​Yoongi, who had been leaning back with his arms crossed, suddenly leans forward. He takes the microphone, his sharp eyes fixing on yours with a look of genuine respect.

​"That’s a very insightful question," he says, his voice low and gravelly. "I think for a long time, we thought we had to give everything away to be 'authentic.' But with this album, we realized that 'normal' is a boundary we have to draw ourselves. For me, it’s the silence after the work is done. It’s the things we don't share that actually keep us human. Keeping those small moments private is how we survive the big ones."

​He gives you a slow, deliberate nod of acknowledgment. Next to him, Jungkook is staring at you with an expression of pure, unshielded pride.

​You hand the microphone back, your heart steady. You aren't just a fan in the crowd anymore; you’re the person who made Min Yoongi stop and think.

​Lea is in her absolute element. She is a whirlwind of emotion—one second she’s hitting every move of the "SWIM" choreography with perfect precision, and the next, she’s wiping away fresh tears as the melody of a ballad fills the air. She is living the dream she’s had since she first heard their music in your living room in Frankfurt, and seeing her that happy makes your heart swell.

​You aren't just standing there with your notebook this time. You’ve let the "journalist" persona rest. You’re singing along, your voice blending with the hundreds of others, your long pistachio-green dress swaying as you move to the beat. You look relaxed, radiant, and genuinely kind—a stark contrast to the high-pressure world the seven men on stage usually inhabit.

​The members are clearly having the time of their lives. The "Sea Side Swim" vibe in LA is looser, more fun. Hobi is laughing as he skips down the catwalk, and Taehyung is leaning over the edge of the stage to give high-fives.

​Every time Jungkook spins or moves to your side of the stage, his eyes instinctively find you. He sees you singing, your hair messy from the salt air, not clutching a phone or screaming for attention, but simply enjoying the music. He catches your eye during the chorus of "Normal," and for a split second, he points his microphone toward you, his grin widening when he hears you hit the lyrics.

​Even Namjoon, who had started the night with a sigh of professional concern, seems to have softened. He watches you and Lea the crying superfan and the girl who just belongs there and he offers a small, respectful nod during the transition between songs. It’s as if he’s finally realized that your presence isn't "trouble" it’s a reminder of why they make music in the first place.

​As the final notes of the encore echo over the Pacific and the confetti cannons blast glitter into the night sky, you realize that the distance between "Idol" and "Fan" has completely vanished.

​The show is over, but as the boys take their final bows and linger on stage, Jungkook walks to the very edge, right in front of you. He doesn't say anything, but he taps the spot on his chest where a heart would be, his gaze locked on yours for one long, silent heartbeat.

The neon lights of the beach club are still buzzing, and the air is thick with the scent of saltwater and fading adrenaline. As the crowd begins to surge toward the exits, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a sharp black suit subtly weaves through the fans. He doesn't look like standard security; he has the quiet, intense focus of someone on a personal detail.

​He stops directly beside you. Without saying a word or making eye contact with anyone else, he slips a small, heavy piece of cream-colored stationery into your hand.

​He gives you a single, nearly imperceptible nod and vanishes back into the shadows of the stage rigging.

​Your heart hammers against your ribs as you unfold the paper. It’s thick, expensive cardstock. In the same dark, hurried ink you saw on the flight menu, there is a hand-drawn map of a quiet lookout point in the Hollywood Hills, an address, and a time: 11:30 PM.

​Below it, just one word: Please.

​A violent shiver of goosebumps erupts across your arms, despite the warm California night. This isn't a fan meeting. This isn't a press junket. This is a leap into the unknown.

​"Y/N? Earth to Y/N!" Lea’s voice breaks through your trance. She’s glowing, her face streaked with mascara and joy. "Can you believe that? Yoongi answered your question! And Jungkook... did you see him? He was looking at us the whole time!"

​You quickly tuck the note into the hidden pocket of your silk dress, your mind racing. You look at your sister—so pure, so happy, and so incredibly observant when it comes to BTS. How are you supposed to tell the world's biggest fan that you have a private "appointment" with the man she’s spent years dreaming about?

​"Lea," you start, your voice a little breathy as you begin walking toward the exit. "I... I think I left my professional camera lens at that cafe we visited earlier. The one near the beach."

​"What? No way, you’re so careful with your gear!" Lea frowns, her internal 'big sister' alarm instantly pinging.

​"I know, I’m so annoyed at myself," you say, forcing a frustrated sigh. "I must have tucked it under the napkins. I need to go back and check before they close. It’s an expensive piece of equipment for my studies."

​"I'll come with you!" she offers immediately, grabbing her bag.

​"No!" you say, perhaps a bit too quickly. You soften your tone, giving her a gentle, tired smile. "You’re exhausted, and you need to upload all those videos while the WiFi at the hotel is still fast. Go back, order some room service, and start your 'post-concert depression' ritual. I’ll take an Uber, grab the lens, and be back in an hour. I promise."

​Lea looks at you, her eyes narrowing slightly. She knows you’re the responsible one, the one who never loses things. But the "sunshine" in your expression is so earnest, so kind, that she finally sighs.

​"Fine. But if you aren't back by midnight, I’m calling the police, the embassy, and Namjoon," she jokes, though her eyes linger on you for a second too long.

​You watch her climb into a taxi, waving until the taillights disappear into the LA traffic. Then, you pull the note out one last time.

​You take a deep breath, smooth down your green dress, and type the address into your phone. Your hands are shaking, but your resolve is steady.

The night air in the Hollywood Hills is a completely different beast than the sun-drenched warmth of the beach. Up here, away from the city’s concrete heat, a sharp, damp Pacific fog has begun to roll over the ridges.

​The Uber drops you at the edge of a gravel turnout. As the taillights disappear around a bend, you are left in a silence so profound it makes your ears ring. You pull your arms tight against your chest, the thin pistachio silk of your dress offering zero protection against the wind. Your breath blooms in small, ghostly clouds in front of you.

​You walk the last few meters toward the edge of the lookout, your heels crunching softly on the dirt. Below you, Los Angeles is a sprawling carpet of electric jewels millions of lights shimmering through the haze. It’s breathtaking, but your teeth are beginning to chatter. You really should have grabbed your leather jacket.

​Suddenly, the crunch of gravel behind you makes your heart skip a beat. You turn, peering into the shadows where the silhouette of a tall figure is emerging from the darkness near a parked car.

​"I didn't know it would cool down this much," a soft, melodic voice says in English.

​Before you can even shiver again, a heavy, warm weight settles over your shoulders. It’s a thick, oversized denim jacket still holding the residual heat of someone’s body and the faint, unmistakable scent of sandalwood and expensive laundry detergent.

​You look up, pulling the collar of the jacket closer to your chin. Jungkook is standing right in front of you. He’s dressed simply in a black hoodie and beanie, his face uncovered this time. The moonlight catches the silver of his piercings and the deep, tired kindness in his eyes.

​"Thank you," you whisper, your voice a little unsteady. "I thought California was always warm."

​He lets out a small, breathy laugh and steps up to the railing beside you, looking out at the city lights. He doesn't move away.

​"Me too," he admits, shoving his hands into his pockets. "But up here, everything is different. It’s quiet. No cameras. No 'Idol' version of me."

​He turns to look at you, his gaze sweeping over your face with a curious, gentle intensity. "I wasn't sure you’d actually come. Namjoon-hyung... he thinks I’m crazy for sending that note."

​You offer him a soft, brave smile, the warmth of his jacket finally seeping into your skin. "I’m a journalist, remember? We usually follow the story. But I think I came because you asked 'please'."

​Jungkook looks back at the horizon, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. For a long moment, the two of you just stand there in the cold, two strangers who keep crashing into each other across the world, finally finding a place where the noise can't reach them.

The cold wind sweeps across the lookout, and despite the heavy denim jacket draped over your shoulders, a small shiver runs through you. It isn’t just the temperature anymore; it’s the sheer weight of the moment.

​"You're still cold," Jungkook says softly, stepping slightly closer to block the wind.

​"It’s not just the cold," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. You look down at your hands, which are trembling slightly against the fabric of his jacket. "I’m incredibly nervous. Being here... like this... it all feels like a dream. I keep waiting for someone to wake me up in my room back in Frankfurt."

​Jungkook stays silent for a moment, watching the way the city lights reflect in your eyes. He doesn't move away. Instead, he reaches out, his fingers hovering for a second before he gently tucks a stray, wind-blown lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is warm and grounded, pulling you back to reality.

​"It’s not a dream," he says, his voice low and steady. "I’m nervous too. Usually, when I meet someone, there are ten people between us. Managers, stylists, security... there is always a script. But here?" He gestures to the empty space around you. "There is no script. It’s just us."

​He leans his back against the railing, looking at you with a soft, tired smile. "When I saw you at the beach tonight, singing along... you looked so happy. Not like you were watching a show, but like you were just living. I haven't felt 'normal' in a long time, but looking at you makes it feel possible."

​You look up at him, the honesty in his eyes catching you off guard. The "Global Icon" from the billboards is gone. In the moonlight, he just looks like a young man who is lonely in a very crowded world.

​"I didn't think I'd actually be here," you confess, a small, shy smile finally breaking through your nerves. "My sister thinks I'm at a cafe looking for a camera lens."

​Jungkook lets out a soft laugh, the sound bright against the quiet of the hills. "Then we should make sure this 'dream' is worth the lie, shouldn't we?"

​He settles into the silence with you, and for the first time, the trembling in your hands starts to fade. The air is still cold, but the space between you feels incredibly warm.

The wind picks up, whistling through the canyon and making the heavy denim of his jacket flap against your legs. You huddle deeper into the fabric, the cold now biting through the silk of your dress.

​"Get in," Jungkook says softly, gesturing toward the dark SUV idling nearby. "It’s too cold to stay out here."

​The interior of the car is a sudden sanctuary warm, smelling of clean leather and a hint of the sandalwood scent that seems to follow him everywhere. He slides into the driver's seat beside you, his presence filling the quiet cabin. For a moment, he just sits there, his hands resting on the steering wheel, the moonlight catching the silver rings on his fingers.

​"Where can we actually go?" you ask, your voice finally steadying as the heater begins to hum. "Is there anywhere in this city where people won't recognize you? A place where we can just... talk?"

​Jungkook lets out a short, dry laugh, his gaze dropping to the dashboard. He looks tired for a second, the weight of his own fame settling back onto his shoulders. "In Los Angeles? It’s nearly impossible. Every corner has a camera, and every person has a phone. If we walk into a cafe or a park, the world will know within five minutes."

​He looks over at you, his dark eyes searching yours. There’s a flicker of frustration there, a longing for a freedom he hasn't had in a decade.

​"I have a suite at the hotel," you say quietly, the suggestion hanging in the warm air between you. "My sister is asleep, or she’s busy with her fan groups. It’s the only place I can think of that isn't a public stage."

​Jungkook stays silent for a long heartbeat, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. He knows the risks the 'deep trouble' Namjoon warned him about is waiting right outside the car door. But then he looks at you, really looks at you, and the tension in his jaw relaxes.

​"The hotel," he repeats, a small, daring smile touching his lips. "Okay. Let’s go."

​He shifts the car into gear, and as the SUV begins to wind down the dark Hollywood hills toward the sea of lights below, the silence in the car feels different. It’s no longer a dream; it’s a shared secret, and for the first time, you’re the ones driving the story.

The drive back to West Hollywood is surreal. The closer you get to the hotel, the more the silence in the SUV fills with a strange, nervous electricity. Jungkook drives with one hand, the other resting near the gear shift, his profile illuminated by the passing neon of the Sunset Strip.

​"Sometimes," you whisper as the hotel's white facade comes into view, "being obvious is the best way to be invisible. If we act like we're hiding, people look. If we act like we belong, they don't."

​Jungkook pulls his beanie a little lower and nods. "Okay. Let's just be... two people."

​You step out into the warm night air, his oversized denim jacket still draped over your shoulders, hiding the distinctive pistachio silk of your dress. You walk through the grand marble lobby, your heart hammering against your ribs. You’re talking to him, laughing softly at a story about Frankfurt, acting exactly like a girl on a late-night date. He walks beside you, his head tilted toward yours, the picture of a relaxed boyfriend.

​The plan is working perfectly—until you reach the elevators.

​A group of four young girls, clutching their lightsticks and wearing BTS tour hoodies, are standing there, buzzing with post-concert adrenaline. They are exactly the people who would recognize him in a heartbeat.

​The elevator dings. The doors slide open. You all step inside.

​The space is cramped. One of the girls glances toward Jungkook, her eyes narrowing as she tries to peer under the brim of his cap. You can feel him go rigid beside you, his breath hitching.

​In a split-second instinct, you reach up. You grab the lapels of his hoodie and pull him down toward you, forcing him to duck his face into the crook of your shoulder.

​"Stay still," you murmur against his ear. "Play along."

​You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep, intimate embrace that shields his face from the rest of the lift. To the girls standing behind you, it looks like a couple lost in their own world.

To make it even more convincing, you tilt your head and press a soft, lingering kiss to the warm skin of his neck, just below his jawline.

Kissing his soft neck felt so good.

​The scent of his skin salt, sandalwood, and something purely him fills your senses. You feel a violent shiver run through his entire body. His hands find your waist, gripping the silk of your dress as he buries his face deeper into your hair, hiding completely.

​"Oh my god, get a room," one of the girls whispers, giggling.

​The elevator crawls upward. Each floor feels like an eternity. You keep your lips pressed against his skin, feeling the steady, frantic thrum of his pulse beneath your mouth.

​Finally, the doors chime for your floor.

​"This is us," you say breathlessly, not letting go of him until you’ve pulled him out into the hallway and the doors have slid shut behind you.

​You let go, stepping back as the silence of the corridor settles around you. Jungkook stands there for a moment, his chest heaving, his face flushed a deep, dark crimson. He touches the spot on his neck where your lips just were, his dark eyes wide and searching yours.

​"That," he says, his voice low and incredibly raspy, "was definitely not in the script."

The silence in the hallway feels heavy after the adrenaline of the elevator. You can feel the heat radiating from your own face, a deep crimson that matches the flush on Jungkook's cheeks. You don't dare look him in the eye for more than a second as you fumble with your key card.

​"Shh," you whisper, pressing a finger to your lips. "Please, be incredibly quiet. My sister’s room is just two doors down. If she hears a deep voice, she’ll be out here in a heartbeat, and then we're both dead."

​Jungkook nods frantically, his eyes wide and alert, looking like a stowaway as he slips through the door behind you. You click the lock shut and lean your back against the wood, finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding since the lobby.

​The room is dim, lit only by the golden glow of the Los Angeles skyline bleeding through the sheer curtains. It smells like your travel perfume and the fresh lilies the hotel puts in the vases.

​"Safe," he breathes, pulling off his beanie and running a hand through his dark hair, which is messy from the hood and the wind. He looks around the room at your open suitcase, the notebook on the nightstand, and the extra pair of shoes by the desk. It’s a messy, lived-in, human space.

​He turns back to you, leaning against the dresser. The tension from the elevator hasn't quite faded; it’s just shifted into something different. He's still touching the spot on his neck where your lips were just moments ago, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that makes your heart skip.

​"Your sister is really that close?" he asks, his voice dropping to a velvety, barely-audible whisper that sends a fresh shiver down your spine.

​"Two doors," you confirm, stepping closer to him so you don't have to raise your voice. "She’s probably editing photos of you right now. She has no idea you’re standing next to my minibar."

​Jungkook lets out a silent, shaking laugh, his shoulders relaxing as he sinks into the armchair by the window. He looks up at you, the moonlight catching the silver of his lip piercing.

​"I think that was the most dangerous thing I've ever done," he says softly. "And I've jumped off stadiums on a wire."

​You sit on the edge of the bed, facing him, the pistachio silk of your dress shimmering in the dark. For the first time, there are no fans, no managers, and no sister between you.

​"Would you like some water?" you ask, your voice gentle. "Or... I have some German chocolate Lea brought from home. It's not as fancy as the one on the plane, but it’s better than the hotel snacks."

​Jungkook smiles, a real, tired, and incredibly sweet smile. "Chocolate sounds perfect. Tell me about Frankfurt. Tell me something that has nothing to do with music or billboards."

The room is cast in a soft, amber glow from the bedside lamp, creating a small sanctuary that feels thousands of miles away from the chaos of the world outside. You move from the edge of the bed to lean against the headboard, and after a moment of hesitation, Jungkook joins you. He kicks off his shoes and sits cross-legged, facing you, the heavy denim jacket now discarded between you.

​For the next few hours, the "Idol" and the "Girl from the Pier" simply vanish.

​You share the German chocolate Lea packed, breaking off pieces as you talk in hushed, rhythmic whispers. You find yourself telling him about the quiet streets of Frankfurt, the smell of the rain on the pavement near your university, and how you used to sit in the library dreaming of seeing the world.

​He listens with an intensity that is almost overwhelming, his dark eyes never leaving yours. In return, he tells you about the things he misses—the simple joy of walking into a convenience store at 3:00 AM without a mask, or the way his mother’s cooking smells when he finally gets a day off.

​"Sometimes," he whispers, his voice low and raspy in the quiet room, "I feel like I'm watching my own life through a screen. Everything is so fast. So loud. But tonight... sitting here... it feels like the volume has finally been turned down."

​"I think everyone needs a place where the volume is zero," you say softly, offering him a small, kind smile. "Even you."

​You talk about movies, about the fear of the future, and about how strange it is that a wrong turn in a New York airport led to a hotel room in Los Angeles. It’s effortless. There are no awkward silences, no forced topics. You laugh at the same things, and you fall into quiet moments that feel comfortable rather than heavy. It’s the kind of conversation you only have with someone you’ve known for a lifetime—or someone you were always meant to meet.

​At one point, he reaches out and traces the pattern on your blanket, his hand resting just inches from yours. "You have a very peaceful energy," he murmurs. "It’s... grounding. I don't feel like I have to be 'Jungkook' right now. I can just be me."

​You look at him, seeing the exhaustion behind the sparkle in his eyes, and you realize that out of all the millions of people who scream his name, you might be one of the few who is actually seeing him.

​"Then just be you," you whisper, moving your hand just enough so your pinky finger brushes against his. "I like that version much better anyway."

​He catches your finger with his, a small, tethering touch that makes the air in the room feel thick with a new kind of electricity. The clock on the bedside table ticks toward 2:00 AM, but neither of you moves. The world is asleep, and for tonight, the only two people who matter are sitting on a bed in West Hollywood, sharing a bar of German chocolate and a thousand whispered secrets.

The dim glow of the Los Angeles skyline filtered through the sheer curtains, casting long, blue-tinted shadows across the bed. The air in the room had shifted, the lighthearted conversation about Frankfurt and chocolate melting into a heavy, magnetic pull that made every breath feel intentional.

​Jungkook’s hand, which had been tentatively touching yours, suddenly slid upward. His fingers, calloused and warm, traced the line of your jaw before settling at the nape of your neck. He pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing was jagged, out of sync with the quiet hum of the air conditioner.

​"It’s been a long time," he whispered, his voice cracking with a raw, vulnerable honesty. He looked down, a flicker of genuine shame crossing his features. "Trusting someone... it’s the hardest part of my life. I don’t... I’m out of practice. I’m worried I won’t be..."

​The confession, coming from a man the entire world idolized as a god of confidence, hit you right in the center of your chest. The fact that he was exposing this specific insecurity to you a girl he’d met by chance—fueled a sudden, protective fire inside you. You felt a wave of boldness wash over you, fueled by the sheer weight of the trust he was placing in your hands.

​"Look at me," you murmured, your voice low and commanding.

​When his dark eyes met yours, you didn't wait. You reached out, grabbing the hem of his black hoodie and pulling it upward. He helped you, his movements a bit frantic as he stripped it off, revealing the expansive ink on his arms and the sharp, defined muscles of his chest. You followed suit, the silk of your pistachio dress sliding down your body and pooling at your hips until you were both bare to the waist.

​You pushed him back against the pillows, crawling over him until you were straddling his lap. The contrast of your soft skin against his hard, tattooed frame was electric.

​"Don't be ashamed," you whispered, leaning down until your lips were inches from his. "There is no 'Idol' here. It's just you. And I'm not going anywhere."

​You kissed him then, not with the soft hesitation from the elevator, but with a deep, hungry intent. Jungkook let out a low, guttural groan, his large hands slamming against your waist to pull you flush against him. The kiss tasted like the chocolate you’d shared and the desperation of years of isolation.

​He flipped you over with a sudden burst of strength, pinning your wrists gently above your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He breathed you in, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin where you had kissed him earlier. Every touch was heightened, every slide of his skin against yours felt like a revelation.

​When he finally moved between your legs, his movements were slow, almost reverent. He watched your face, his eyes searching for every flicker of pleasure, every gasp that escaped your lips. The moment he entered you, he froze, his head dropping to your shoulder as a shuddering breath left his lungs. He gripped the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white.

​"Y/N," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "Please... stay with me."

​"I'm right here," you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

​The rhythm that followed was primal and honest. There was no polished choreography, no camera angles—just the sound of skin hitting skin and the frantic, joined breathing of two people who had found a temporary escape from the world. He moved with a desperate intensity, his tattoos blurring in the low light as he sought friction and connection.

​He was clumsy at times, his movements fueled by a long-starved hunger, but that only made it more real. You met him move for move, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back, urging him on. As the tension built to a breaking point, Jungkook let out a sharp, choked-off cry, his body tensing as he collapsed against you, his heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs.

​The silence that followed was thick and sweet. He didn't pull away; he stayed buried in the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. The shame was gone, replaced by a quiet, exhausted peace.

​"Thank you," he whispered into your hair, his voice barely audible. "For making me feel human again."

The heavy, electric silence of the room lingered as you finally pulled away from the warmth of the tangled sheets. Your skin felt sensitized, glowing in the pale moonlight that washed over the bed. You stood up, the cool air of the room a sharp contrast to the heat of his body, and began to walk toward the bathroom, your silhouette a graceful shadow against the glass.

​At the door, you paused and looked back over your shoulder. Jungkook was propped up on his elbows, his dark hair a mess, watching you with an expression that was raw, dazed, and completely unguarded.

​You leaned against the doorframe, a playful, daring grin tugging at your lips.

​"I really need a shower," you whispered, your voice still a bit raspy. "Do you want to join me? I have to warn you, though... I only have peach shower gel. You’re going to walk out of here smelling like a fruit basket."

​Jungkook let out a low, breathless laugh that started deep in his chest. The tension that usually lived in his shoulders had completely vanished. He looked at the steam already starting to curl from the bathroom door and then back at you, his eyes darkening with a renewed, mischievous spark.

​"Peach?" he repeated, his voice dropping into that velvety, intimate register. He threw back the covers, his tattooed frame moving with a sudden, effortless grace as he stood up. "I think I can live with being a peach for a morning, as long as I'm with you."

​He crossed the room in three long strides, his hand reaching out to catch yours just as you turned toward the water.

The bathroom was quickly swallowed by a thick, fragrant wall of steam. The hot water drummed against the glass, creating a rhythmic sanctuary that felt worlds away from the bright billboards of the city outside.

​As you stepped under the spray, the water slicked your hair down your back, the heat turning your skin a flushed, rosy pink. Jungkook followed you, his large, tattooed frame nearly filling the small shower stall. The moment he was within reach, he didn't hesitate; he pulled you back against the tiled wall, his hands sliding over your wet skin with a desperate, slick friction.

​You turned in his arms, your mouths meeting in a kiss that tasted of steam and longing. The sound of the water muffled your gasps as his hands mapped every curve of your body, his touch firm and possessive. He was no longer the shy man from the bed; under the spray, he was all muscle and instinct, his breath hot against your ear as he pulled you flush against his chest.

​"You smell like peaches already," he groaned, his voice vibrating against your throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

​You let out a soft, breathless laugh, reaching for the bottle of shower gel. "Then let's finish the job."

​You poured a generous amount of the sweet-scented gel into your palms, the aroma of ripe peaches filling the small space. You began to wash him, your hands gliding over the intricate ink of his sleeves and the hard, sculpted lines of his torso. It was a slow, intimate ritual. You took your time, your fingers tracing the definition of his abs and the broad span of his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles jumped under your touch.

​When you reached his hair, you urged him to lean his head back into the stream. You worked the lather into his dark locks, your fingertips massaging his scalp with a gentle, firm pressure. Jungkook let out a long, shuddering sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your touch, his hands resting on your waist to keep his balance.

​"Nobody ever does this for me," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "It feels... so good."

​You rinsed the suds away, the water cascading over his face and down his chest. He looked up at you then, his eyelashes spiked with water, his dark eyes full of a quiet, intense devotion. He didn't wait for you to finish; he lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as the hot water beat down on both of you. The steam made everything blurry, everything except the feel of his heartbeat against yours and the slick, peach-scented heat of the moment.

​The shower became a blur of tangled limbs and muffled sounds, a frantic, beautiful mess of soap and skin. For those minutes, there were no schedules, no managers, and no fans—just the two of you, lost in the steam of a West Hollywood bathroom.

The steam slowly began to dissipate as the water stopped, leaving only the rhythmic drip-drip against the shower floor. Jungkook stood there for a long moment, his forehead resting against yours, his wet hair dripping onto your shoulders. The playful, heated energy of the shower had settled into a quiet, heavy reality.

​"I have to go," he whispered, his voice thick and raspy in the small, humid space. He checked his waterproof watch, a shadow of professional obligation crossing his face. "The call time for the music video shoot is at 5:00 AM. If I’m not back at my hotel before the staff starts moving, Namjoon-hyung will actually lose his mind."

​He let out a frustrated sigh, pulling you into one last, tight embrace. You could feel the frantic beat of his heart against your chest. "I don't want to leave. Especially not now. But if we get caught here... if the fans see me leaving your room..."

​"I know," you murmured, reaching up to dry his face with a corner of a plush hotel towel. "The 'deep trouble' Namjoon warned you about. You need to go, Jungkook. We can't let this end before it even starts."

​You both moved quickly through the darkened room, a silent, coordinated dance of finding discarded clothes in the shadows. He pulled on his black hoodie, the scent of your peach shower gel still clinging to his skin, a sweet contrast to his dark, edgy look. He looked almost like a ghost in the dim light of the Los Angeles dawn.

​He stopped at the door, his hand on the handle, looking back at you one last time. You were wrapped in a white hotel robe, your hair damp and messy, your skin still flushed.

​"I have to film all day," he said, his English soft but determined. "But after... I’ll find a way. Check your phone later, okay?"

​He leaned in, pressing one final, lingering kiss to your forehead a gesture that felt more intimate than anything that had happened under the sheets.

​"See you, Peach," he whispered with a small, tired wink.

​He slipped out into the hallway, his footsteps silent on the heavy carpet. You stood there, leaning your forehead against the cool wood of the door, listening until the sound of the elevator chiming told you he was gone.

​Just as you turned back toward the bed, a muffled, upbeat K-pop song started playing through the wall. It was Lea’s alarm clock. Two doors down, the world was waking up, and the "Normal" life you’d shared for a few hours was officially over.

The sunrise over West Hollywood is a slow, agonizing crawl of pink and gold, but you don’t see the beauty in it. You are staring at the ceiling, the white hotel linens tangled around your legs, feeling the fading warmth of the spot where he was lying just an hour ago.

​The silence in the room is deafening.

​You just had sex with Jeon Jungkook.

​The sentence repeats in your mind like a broken record, each time hitting with a different weight. One moment, it feels like a fever dream a hallucination brought on by jet lag and the dizzying California heat. The next, the physical reality of it crashes over you: the lingering scent of peach shower gel on your skin, the slight ache in your muscles, and the memory of his heavy, tattooed silk-smooth skin against yours.

​You roll onto your side, burying your face in the pillow he used. It still smells like him that heady mix of sandalwood and the salt from the ocean.

​This wasn't supposed to happen. You were the "journalist" from Frankfurt; he was the untouchable icon on the Calvin Klein billboard. There was supposed to be a wall between those two worlds, a mile-high barrier of PR teams, security guards, and global expectations. But last night, that wall didn't just crumble you both tore it down.

​You think about the way he looked when he confessed he was nervous. The way he trusted you with his shame, his touch, and his "normal" self. It wasn't a transaction or a fan-girl fantasy; it was raw and human. And that’s the part that terrifies you the most.

​Because now, you aren't just a fan or a bystander. You are a secret.

​Two doors down, you hear the muffled sound of Lea's shower turning on. She’s singing one of his songs, ironically completely unaware that the man she idolizes was just breathing against your neck in this very bed. The guilt stings for a second, but it’s quickly eclipsed by a fierce, protective instinct. You have to protect this. You have to protect him.

​You reach for your phone on the nightstand, your fingers trembling. Your lock screen is still a photo of the Frankfurt skyline. You check your messages, half-expecting a "it was a mistake" text, but there's nothing yet. Only the quiet hum of the city waking up outside.

​You lie back down, closing your eyes, trying to burn the memory of his touch into your brain before the reality of the day washes it away. You’re no longer just watching the story unfold.

​You’re the one holding the pen.

The morning light is blinding as Lea practically kicks your door down, her hair wrapped in a fluffy white towel and her eyes wide with frantic energy.

​"Y/N! Get up! Get up right now!" she squeals, jumping onto the edge of your bed. "The fan accounts just leaked it! They’re filming the main performance video for ARIRANG at a closed-off set near the Santa Monica Pier. Some fans already saw the equipment trucks!"

​You pull the duvet tighter around your shoulders, your skin still humming with the memory of the shower and the weight of his body against yours. Hearing his name—hearing about his "professional" life—feels like a physical jolt to your system. Just a few hours ago, he was a man whispering about his fears in your ear; now, he’s back to being a coordinate on a map for thousands of people.

​"Lea, slow down," you say, your voice sounding raspier than usual. "We aren't going to go over there and stalk them. They’re working. Let them have some peace."

​"It’s not stalking!" Lea protests, waving her phone in your face. "BigHit just put out an official notice. They’re allowing a small group of verified fans into a designated 'cheering zone' for the final wide shots. It’s an organized event! And since we have the VIP lanyards from the beach club..." She shakes the purple ribbon in the air like a trophy. "We have priority access!"

​You stare at the lanyard. The same one Jungkook personally made sure ended up in your hands.

​"I don't know, Lea..." you murmur, sitting up slowly. Your mind flashes back to the night before—the way he looked when he was vulnerable, the way he breathed your name against your skin. You feel a sudden, intense wave of protectiveness. If you go there, you have to act like a stranger again. You have to watch him from behind a barrier while the secret of his touch burns under your skin.

​"Please!" Lea begs, her lower lip trembling in a classic 'little sister' pout. "This is the last big filming before the tour officially kicks off. Imagine the footage! Imagine just... being there."

​You look at her, so full of pure, uncomplicated joy. She has no idea that the man she’s dying to see spent the night three meters away from her dreams.

​"Fine," you finally sigh, giving her a tired but kind smile. "Go get dressed. I need to... I need to wake up properly."

​As she bolts back to her room, cheering, you fall back against the pillows. You close your eyes and you’re back in the dark, feeling the heat of his neck against your lips in the elevator. You remember the way he whispered "See you, Peach" before disappearing into the dawn.

​You touch your collarbone, almost expecting to feel a mark there. You aren't just a journalist or a sister today. You’re a woman with a secret that could set the world on fire.

The morning sun is already baking the pavement as you and Lea head toward the Santa Monica Pier. You move like a sleepwalker, your body heavy with a secret that feels far too large for a hotel room.

​You’ve kept your look simple: a pair of denim shorts, a white oversized t-shirt that swallows your frame, and your hair pulled back into a single, tight braid. You look like any other girl on a summer day in LA, but every time the fabric of the shirt brushes against your skin, it feels like a ghost of his touch.

​As you approach the cordoned-off filming area, the sound hits you first—the high-pitched, rhythmic chanting of hundreds of fans, the smell of salt spray mixed with expensive coffee, and the shimmering heat rising from the sand.

​"Look! The set! It’s the ARIRANG palace gates!" Lea is jumping on her toes, her VIP lanyard bouncing against her chest. "Y/N, we’re so close to the front!"

​Security ushers you into the designated "cheering zone," a small, barricaded section right near the main camera crane. The girls around you are vibrating with energy, clutching lightsticks and homemade banners, their eyes fixed on the blacked-out vans parked behind the monitors.

​You stand there, your hands tucked into your pockets, feeling like an imposter.

​While the girls around you are screaming "Jungkook-ah!" and speculating about his hair color, you are back in the quiet, dim light of 3:00 AM. You’re thinking about the way his pulse thrummed against your lips in the elevator. You’re thinking about the vulnerable, "out of practice" man who let you wash his hair in the dark.

​The contrast is dizzying. To these fans, he’s a masterpiece on a billboard. To you, he’s a man who smells like your peach shower gel and whispered "Please" into the crook of your neck.

​Suddenly, a coordinated roar erupts from the crowd.

​The van doors slide open.

​Seven figures emerge, surrounded by a swarm of stylists and managers. They look untouchable—decked out in high-fashion streetwear, their makeup flawless, their expressions professional and distant.

​Jungkook steps out last. He’s wearing a sleeveless leather vest and combat boots, his tattooed arm on full display under the harsh California sun. He looks every bit the "Global Icon." He looks like he belongs to the world, not to a girl in a pistachio dress.

​He walks toward the center of the set, nodding to the director, his eyes scanning the crowd with a practiced, sweeping gaze.

​Your breath catches in your throat. You stay still, hidden behind a taller fan, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You don't scream. You don't wave. You just watch him, wondering if the "Peach" from the shower is still there under all that leather and stage makeup.

The California sun is relentless, beating down on the sand and the asphalt of the pier. The music for the shoot the heavy, rhythmic beat of Hooligan blasts through the massive speakers, over and over, as the boys run through their choreography.

​From the front of the cheering zone, you see Jungkook hit every mark with a lethal, professional precision. His eyes sweep across the crowd, and for a fraction of a second, they land on you. He doesn't falter. He doesn't smile. He doesn't give a single sign to the cameras or the fans that he knows the taste of your skin or the scent of your shower gel. His "Idol" mask is perfectly in place, impenetrable and cool.

​The weight of the secret, combined with the heat, starts to feel like too much. While the girls around you are screaming until their throats are raw, you feel a strange sense of detachment. You quietly slip out of the crowd, heading toward a small shaded beverage stand near the edge of the set.

​You buy a cold bottle of water and find a wooden bench under a faded blue umbrella. From here, you have a wider view of the madness. You lean back, watching the spectacle from a distance, your mind still drifting back to the quiet of the hotel room.

​After the final "Cut!" is called, the tension on set breaks. The boys don't head straight for the vans; instead, they move toward the barricades to greet the fans who have been waiting for hours. It’s a chaotic, beautiful scene.

​You watch as they move down the line, taking selfies and signing banners. Then, you see Lea. She’s at the very front, her face flushed with pure, unadulterated joy. Taehyung stops to sign her lightstick, and then... Jungkook is there.

​He reaches over the barrier, offering a bright, camera-ready smile. He leans in for a quick, respectful hug with your sister, his arm draping over her shoulder for a split second as someone snaps a photo. Lea looks like she’s about to ascend to heaven.

​From your bench, you take a slow sip of your water. You see him whisper something to her probably a "thank you for coming"—and she nods frantically, tears of happiness streaming down her face.

​He looks so natural doing it. This is his world. This is the version of him that belongs to everyone. He’s hugging your sister, the girl who dreams about him, while you—the girl who actually held him in the dark—sit alone in the shade, invisible.

​A bittersweet smile touches your lips. You aren't jealous of the hug; you’re happy for Lea. But the realization hits you harder than the midday sun: being his secret is going to be the loneliest job in the world.

​Just as he’s about to move to the next fan, Jungkook’s gaze shifts. He looks past the crowd, past the security, and finds you sitting under that blue umbrella. For one heartbeat, the "Idol" mask slips. His expression softens into something private, something heavy with the memory of the night before. He doesn't wave. He just looks at you, a silent acknowledgment that even in this crowd of thousands, he knows exactly where you are.

The midday heat is shimmering off the pier, but you stand up from your shaded bench and weave your way back through the crowd. You find Lea exactly where you left her, though she looks like she’s glowing from the inside out. Her hands are shaking as she stares at the screen of her phone, clutching the spot on her shoulder where Jungkook’s arm had rested just moments ago.

​"Y/N! Did you see? Did you see that?" she gasps, her voice cracked from screaming. "He hugged me! He actually looked at me and said 'Thank you for coming from so far.' I think I’m going to faint. I’m actually going to die right here on this pier."

​You pull her into a side-hug, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. "I saw, Lea. You look like you just won the lottery."

​"I did!" she squeals, already typing furiously into a group chat.

​As she descends into the digital world of fan updates, you feel a presence beside you. It isn't the chaotic energy of a fan or the sharp movement of a security guard. It’s a calm, steady shadow.

​You turn to see Namjoon. He’s stepped away from the main group, standing near a stack of equipment crates where the fans can’t quite reach him. He isn't wearing the heavy leather of the performance; he’s in a simple, oversized linen shirt, looking more like a philosopher than a pop star.

​"It’s a lot, isn't it?" he asks in his deep, resonant English, nodding toward the sea of screaming fans and flashing cameras.

​"It’s a different world," you reply, offering him a small, respectful smile. "I don't know how you all breathe in the middle of it."

​Namjoon leans against a crate, crossing his arms. He studies you for a moment not with the "deep trouble" suspicion he had in New York, but with a genuine, quiet curiosity. "Most people here are looking for a piece of the sun. But you... you always look like you’re just observing the weather."

​You laugh softly, the sound lost in the wind. "I think the weather is more interesting than the sun. It’s more real."

​For the next ten minutes, as the crew resets the lighting rigs, you and Namjoon talk. It’s not about the album or the tour. You talk about the architecture of the Getty Museum, the strange melancholy of Los Angeles, and the books you both noticed in each other's bags during the flight.

​He’s brilliant, his mind jumping from one complex idea to another, but he listens even better than he speaks. He asks your opinion on a specific passage of a book you mentioned, and as you explain your perspective—logical, sharp, and slightly cynical—his eyebrows lift in genuine surprise.

​"You’re incredibly sharp, Y/N," he says, a dimpled smile finally breaking through his professional mask. "It’s rare to find someone who doesn't just agree with everything I say to be polite. You have a very... grounded way of seeing the world. It’s refreshing. I can see why..."

​He trails off, his eyes flickering toward the far end of the barricade where Jungkook is laughing with a group of fans. Namjoon’s smile turns a bit more knowing, a bit more protective.

​"I think Jungkook is very lucky," he adds quietly, his voice dropping so the fans nearby won't hear. "Just because someone like you is looking out for him. You’re a very impressive person."

​He gives you a small, respectful bow of his head before a manager calls his name. As he walks away, you feel a strange sense of validation. You aren't just a secret in a hotel room; you’re someone the leader of the world’s biggest band actually respects.

The conversation with Namjoon lingers in your mind long after he walks away to rejoin the group. His words—I see why—echo in your ears, grounded and observant. It’s a strange kind of validation, but it doesn't stop the whirlwind of confusion spinning in your chest.

​As you walk back toward the barricade where Lea is still hyperventilating over her photos, the sheer reality of the situation hits you like a physical weight.

​You had sex with Jeon Jungkook.

​Once. In a hotel room fueled by adrenaline, exhaustion, and a strange, magnetic pull that defied logic. But the sun is high now, the cameras are rolling, and the Pacific Ocean is crashing against the pilings of the pier. You live in Frankfurt. Your life is filled with rain, cobblestone streets, and a quiet apartment. His life is this—a screaming sea of purple, private jets, and a schedule that doesn't belong to him.

​"Earth to Y/N!" Lea says, waving a hand in front of your face. "You look like you’re seeing ghosts. Wasn't that Namjoon? What did he say? Did he ask about me?"

​"He just... he was just being polite, Lea," you lie, your voice smooth despite the chaos inside. "Checking if we were enjoying the shoot."

​The director calls for the final wrap. The music cuts out, replaced by the roar of the crowd. The boys begin to move toward the black SUVs, their security detail forming a tight human wall around them. As they walk, they turn back one last time, waving to the fans who have stood in the heat for hours.

​Hobi is blowing kisses, Jimin is forming hearts with his fingers, and Taehyung is giving a final, boxy grin.

​You stand there, your hands tucked into the pockets of your shorts, looking like just another girl in the crowd. When Jungkook reaches the door of the lead SUV, he stops. He doesn't look directly at you he’s too smart for that but his hand goes to his neck, touching the skin right where you kissed him in the elevator. It’s a silent, searing signal.

​Then, he looks up, his gaze sweeping the horizon until it settles on the spot where you and Lea are standing. He offers a small, lingering wave, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second before he disappears into the tinted darkness of the car.

​You find yourself smiling back not the scream of a fan, but a soft, private smile that feels like a goodbye and a "thank you" all at once.

​As the motorcade pulls away and the crowd begins to disperse, the adrenaline finally starts to fade, leaving a dull ache in its place. You’re happy for Lea, and you’re glad he’s safe, but as you turn to walk back toward the street, the distance between Los Angeles and Frankfurt feels wider than it ever has before.

​"That was the best day of my life," Lea sighs, leaning her head on your shoulder as you walk.

​"Mine too," you whisper, though for reasons she will never, ever understand.

The hotel corridor is quiet, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound filling the long, carpeted hallway. You are curled up in bed, dressed in your oversized grey pajamas, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of the last twenty-four hours. Your skin still feels the phantom warmth of the shower, and your mind is a messy collage of Frankfurt, the pier, and the look in Namjoon’s eyes.

​Just as you are about to turn off the bedside lamp, a soft, rhythmic knocking sounds at the door.

​Knock. Knock-knock.

​Your heart stops. It’s too deliberate to be a staff member and too quiet to be Lea. You scramble out of bed, your pulse racing as you press your ear against the cool wood.

​"Who is it?" you whisper.

​"It’s me," a muffled, low voice replies in English.

​You fumble with the latch, your breath catching in your throat. You swing the door open just a crack, and there he is. Jungkook is leaning against the opposite wall, his hoodie pulled low, looking exhausted but desperate.

​Before he can even say a word, you reach out, grab the front of his sweatshirt, and yank him inside. You slam the door shut and lock it in one fluid motion, leaning your back against the wood as if you’re bracing for an invasion.

​"Are you insane?" you hiss, your voice a mix of terror and relief. "The security cameras, the staff, my sister... Jungkook, if anyone saw you come in here—"

​He doesn't answer with words. He just stands there in the dim light of your room, his chest heaving. He looks different than he did on the pier the leather and stage makeup are gone, replaced by the raw, tired boy who sat on your bed last night. He smells like the ocean and a faint hint of woodsmoke.

​"I couldn't go to sleep," he says softly, his English slightly broken by his fatigue. "I kept thinking about what you said on the pier. About the weather being more real than the sun."

​He takes a step toward you, his eyes searching yours in the shadows. "I have to leave for the airport in four hours. The tour starts in Tokyo. If I didn't come now... I didn't know when I’d see you again. And I couldn't leave it at just 'once'."

​You look at him the most famous man in the world, standing in your hotel room in the middle of the night, risking everything just to sit in the silence with you for a few more minutes. The logic of Frankfurt and the distance of the ocean suddenly feel very far away.

​"Four hours?" you whisper, your hand still resting on the lock.

​He nods, a small, hopeful smile touching his lips. "Four hours is a long time if we don't spend it talking about the news."

The four-hour countdown hung in the air, a heavy reminder that the world would soon reclaim him. But inside the dimly lit room, the ticking clock only served to make the silence deeper, the connection more urgent.

​Jungkook didn't move toward the bed immediately. He stood in the center of the room, his eyes tracing your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail to take with him across the ocean. When he finally reached out, his touch was feather-light, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

​"I don't want to go," he whispered, the raw honesty in his voice stripping away the last of your defenses.

​You didn't say anything. You simply took his hand and led him back to the bed. The playful boldness of the shower was gone, replaced by a quiet, aching tenderness. You helped him pull the black hoodie over his head, and he moved with a slow, deliberate grace, his eyes never leaving yours.

​When you lay back against the pillows, the room felt smaller, warmer. He hovered over you, supporting his weight on his forearms, his dark hair falling forward to veil your faces from the rest of the world.

​The intimacy this time was different it was soft, almost reverent. He kissed you with a slow, lingering sweetness, his lips tasting of the cool night air and a deep, quiet longing. His hands, large and warm, slid beneath the hem of your grey pajama shirt, his palms flat against your stomach. Every inch of skin he touched seemed to wake up, humming under the pressure of his fingertips.

​He moved with an incredible patience, as if he had all the time in the world instead of just a few hours. When he finally stripped away the last of your clothes, he paused, his gaze sweeping over you with a look of pure, unadulterated devotion.

​"Beautiful," he murmured, the word vibrating against your skin as he leaned down to press a kiss to the valley between your breasts.

​When he entered you, it wasn't with the frantic hunger of the night before. It was a slow, deep sink a physical anchoring that made your breath hitch in your throat. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until your heartbeats were thumping against each other in a frantic, synchronized rhythm.

​He moved inside you with a rhythmic, fluid steadying, his eyes locked onto yours. There was no shame tonight, no "out of practice" hesitation—only a profound, silent communication. Every time he pushed deeper, he let out a soft, shaky exhale against your temple, his fingers interlacing with yours and pinning them to the pillow.

​"Stay... right here," he choked out, his voice thick with the effort of holding back.

​You arched against him, your eyes fluttering shut as a wave of warmth began to build at the base of your spine. The friction was slick and perfect, the scent of his skin—musk and a fading hint of peach—filling your senses until there was nothing else in the universe but this bed and this man.

​As the tension reached its peak, Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body trembling with a violent, beautiful intensity. You felt him unravel inside you, a soft, broken sound escaping his lips that was half-sob, half-relief. You held him through the aftershocks, your legs locked tight around his waist, wishing you could freeze the clock and stay in this amber-colored moment forever.

​Long after the fire had cooled, he stayed draped over you, his head resting on your chest. He listened to your heart slow down, his hand tracing the line of your hip in a slow, hypnotic circle.

​The room was silent, save for your joined breathing. The Los Angeles dawn was still an hour away, but the weight of the goodbye was already settling back into the shadows.

The cool blue light of the pre-dawn sky began to bleed through the curtains, signaling that the four-hour sanctuary was coming to an end. The magic of the night was slowly being replaced by the cold, hard reality of flight schedules and world tours.

​Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his black hoodie back on. He looked smaller in the shadows, the "Idol" armor not quite fastened yet. He picked up your phone from the nightstand, his fingers tapping quickly on the screen before handing it back to you.

​"That's my private number," he whispered, his voice still thick from sleep and intimacy. "Not the one the managers see. Just... me. Please, don't lose it."

​You looked down at the screen. It was just a string of numbers, but it felt like a lifeline stretched across the Atlantic. You quickly saved it under a simple, inconspicuous name—just a single "J"—and looked back up at him.

​"I won't," you promised, your voice trembling slightly. "I'll be back in Frankfurt by tomorrow night."

​He reached out, cupping your face in his large, warm hand. His thumb traced your cheekbone one last time, a touch so tender it made your throat ache.

​"Frankfurt isn't that far," he murmured, trying to convince himself as much as you. "I'll find a way. We have the tour, but... I'll find a way."

​He leaned in, pressing a final, deep kiss to your lips. It tasted of goodbye and a desperate promise. It was a kiss that held all the words you hadn't said—about the distance, the impossibility of his life, and the fact that you were now a part of it.

​He stood up, pulling his beanie low over his eyes. He checked the hallway through the peephole, his professional instincts kicking back in. With one last, lingering look over his shoulder, he slipped out the door and vanished into the silent corridor.

​The click of the lock felt final.

​You walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to see the street below. A few minutes later, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled away from the hotel curb, merging into the sparse early-morning traffic of Los Angeles.

​You crawled back into the bed, the sheets still smelling of him and peaches, and stared at the new contact in your phone. The world was about to wake up, and your sister would soon be knocking on the door to start the journey home, but for now, you just lay there in the quiet, holding onto the secret that was just beginning

The flight back to Frankfurt is a blur of gray clouds and engine hum, but your mind is thousands of miles away, trapped in a digital bubble.

​The transition back to your "normal" life feels like wearing a coat that’s suddenly three sizes too small. You’re back in your apartment, the German rain tapping against the windowpane, but your phone has become an extension of your hand. It vibrates at 3:00 AM with a Tokyo area code; it lights up during dinner with a simple “Thinking of you, Peach.”

​You are constantly texting him. It’s a frantic, addictive rhythm of updates photos of your morning coffee, voice notes of the rain, and late-night confessions that bridge the time zones. He sends you blurry backstage selfies, videos of his rehearsals where he’s wearing the same black beanie from the hotel, and tired, sweet messages before he collapses into bed after a show.

​But the secret is starting to weigh on you, especially when it comes to Lea.

​"Y/N, are you even listening?" Lea asks, leaning over her laptop in your kitchen. She’s obsessed with the tour footage coming out of Japan. "Look at his solo stage! He looks so... different. More intense. Don't you think?"

​You glance at the screen, seeing the man who was tangled in your sheets just days ago now performing for fifty thousand screaming people. Your heart does a violent somersault.

​"Yeah, he looks great, Lea," you say, quickly flipping your phone face-down on the table as a new notification lights up the screen.

​"Who are you texting so much lately?" she asks, her eyes narrowing with sudden curiosity. "You’ve been smiling at your phone for three days straight. Is it that guy from the newspaper? The editor?"

​"Yeah," you lie, the word tasting like ash in your mouth. "Just... work stuff. A lot of follow-up on the LA trip. You know how it is."

​"Ugh, boring," Lea huffs, turning back to her fan edits. "I wish my life was as exciting as a world tour. Imagine being one of those stylists who gets to be near him every day."

​You look down at your hands, the guilt stinging. You’re lying to your sister—the person who loves him most—about the fact that he’s currently telling you he misses the smell of your shampoo. You’re living a double life, tucked away in a quiet German city while your heart is roaming through stadiums in Asia.

​Every time you hit send, you feel the thrill of the connection and the sharp pang of the deception. You’re no longer just a spectator in his life; you’re the ghost in his machine, the secret he carries onto every stage.

​But as the days turn into weeks, the screen starts to feel like a cage. The "normal" life you wanted is becoming a series of lies, and the man you want is a silhouette on a stage half a world away.

The double life is becoming a heavy coat that you can’t seem to take off. Your phone has become your most precious and most dangerous possession. Every time it buzzes with a notification from "J," your heart skips a beat, a mix of sheer adrenaline and sickening guilt.

​You are sitting in a small café in the Altstadt of Frankfurt, the grey German sky drizzling outside. Lea is sitting across from you, showing you a blurry fancam from the Tokyo concert. She’s dissecting his every move, oblivious to the fact that the man on the screen texted you ten minutes ago to tell you he couldn't sleep because he was thinking about the way you looked in your pajamas.

​Suddenly, your phone lights up on the wooden table.

​J: I wish you were in the front row tonight. I kept looking for you.

​Lea’s eyes dart to the screen. You snatch the phone away so fast you almost knock over your latte.

​"Who is 'J'?" she asks, her brow furrowing. "You’ve been texting this person since we got back from LA. Is it someone from the flight? Or... wait, is it that guy Jonas from your university?"

​"Yeah," you lie quickly, the name tasting like lead in your mouth. "Jonas. He’s... he’s just asking about some notes for the seminar. He’s very persistent."

​"He sounds annoying," Lea huffs, stirring her sugar into her tea. "But hey, at least you have someone. I’m still just crying over a man who doesn't know I exist."

​She sighs, looking back at the video of Jungkook. You feel a sharp, physical pain in your chest. You want to tell her. You want to scream that he does know she exists, that he hugged her because he knew she was your sister, that he is currently the most important person in your life.

​But you can't. To the world, you are a journalist with a quiet life. To Lea, you are her sensible older sister. And to Jungkook, you are the only person who sees the "Human" behind the "Idol."

​You spend the rest of the afternoon in a haze, nodding at Lea’s stories while your thumb is busy typing back under the table.

​You: I’m there in spirit. Be safe tonight. I miss you.

​The lies are stacking up like a house of cards. You’re skipping dinners with your parents, making excuses to stay in your room "to work," just so you can FaceTime him when it’s 4:00 AM in Seoul or Osaka. You’re living in a bubble of peach-scented memories and digital whispers, while the real world is starting to feel like a dream you’re trying to wake up from.

The envelope arrives by express courier on a Tuesday, thick and heavy, with no return address. When you open it, four pairs of VIP passes fall onto your kitchen table—glossy, purple-edged, and radiating the kind of power that would make any fan's heart stop.

​Brussels. Munich. Madrid. Paris.

​Your breath hitches. It’s not just a gesture; it’s an invitation to follow him across a continent. There is a small, handwritten sticky note tucked inside the Munich sleeve. It just says: “I need to see you in the front row. Please. - J”

​You quickly hide the note in your pocket just as Lea walks into the kitchen, her eyes widening as she spots the passes on the table. She lets out a scream that probably alerts the neighbors three houses down.

​"Y/N! ARE THOSE—ARE THOSE TICKETS?!" she shreiks, snatching up the Madrid pass. "How? The pre-sale hasn't even started! These are Golden Circle! These are impossible to get!"

​Your mind races. You can feel the weight of the secret burning in your pocket. You can't tell her they came from Jungkook. You can't tell her he wants you there because he misses the way you smell.

​"I... I won a contest," you stammer, the lie rolling off your tongue with practiced ease. "That interview I did in LA? The production company reached out. They said they appreciated my 'professionalism' and wanted to offer me a press package for the European leg. They sent two of everything so I could bring a guest."

​Lea's jaw drops. She looks at you like you’ve just performed a miracle. "A contest? For four different cities?! Y/N, you are the luckiest person on this entire planet! I take back everything I said about your job being boring. This is... this is destiny!"

​She throws her arms around you, squeezing so hard you can barely breathe. You hug her back, but your eyes are fixed on the "J" on your phone screen, which has just lit up with a new message: “Did they arrive? I picked the cities with the best hotels. I want to be close to you.”

​"We're going to see them four times," Lea whispers, tears actually welling in her eyes. "We're going to see Jungkook four times in two weeks. I can't believe this is my life."

​"I know," you murmur, stroking her hair. "I can't believe it either."

​The guilt is a cold stone in your stomach. You're giving her the dream of a lifetime, but you're building it on a foundation of lies. You're taking her to see her idol, while you're going to see your lover.

​As Lea runs to her room to start planning her outfits for Brussels, you sit back down and pull the note out of your pocket. You trace the "J" with your thumb. You're about to spend two weeks in luxury hotels, traveling across Europe, hiding in the shadows of stadium backstage areas, all while pretending to be a lucky journalist to your own sister.

​The game is getting dangerous. And the European tour hasn't even started yet.

Brussels feels different from the gray, familiar streets of Frankfurt. The city is alive with an electric, nervous energy as fans from all over Europe descend on the capital. You and Lea check into a high-end hotel near the Grand Place—a stay that you told her was "part of the press package," but which you know was personally selected by Jungkook for its discreet underground entrance.

​Lea is a whirlwind of excitement, laying out her outfit and checking her lightstick batteries every five minutes. "I can't believe we're actually here, Y/N. The concert starts in three hours. I think I might actually stop breathing when he walks on stage."

​"You'll be fine," you say, forcing a smile while your phone vibrates in your pocket.

​J: Room 412. The service elevator is around the corner from the gym. Ten minutes?

​Your heart hammer against your ribs. "Hey, Lea? I actually have to go meet the PR liaison for a quick briefing on the 'press' rules for tonight. It shouldn't take long. Why don't you head down to the lobby and grab us some fries? I'll meet you there in twenty."

​"Again with the work?" Lea groans, but the lure of Belgian fries is too strong. "Fine! But don't be late. If we miss the soundcheck entry, I will never forgive you."

​As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, you bolt.

​You find the service elevator, your pulse thrumming in your ears. When you reach the fourth floor, the hallway is silent and smells of expensive lilies. You find room 412 and knock the same rhythmic Knock. Knock-knock.

​The door swings open instantly.

​Jungkook doesn't even let you step fully into the room before his arms are around you, lifting you off your feet. He slams the door with his heel and presses you against it, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that is hungry, desperate, and tastes of the weeks of distance.

​"I missed you," he mumbles against your lips, his voice deep and vibrating with relief. "I hated the screen. I hated the phones. I just wanted to touch you."

​He’s wearing his rehearsal gear baggy sweats and a bucket hat—but his eyes are glowing with a ferocity that makes your knees weak. He pulls you toward the bed, the luxury of the suite fading into the background. For the first time since LA, the "J" on your phone is a living, breathing man in front of you.

​But as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his expression turns serious. "Namjoon asked me about you today. He saw your Instagram story with your sister. He knows you're lying to her, Peach. He’s worried."

​The mention of the lie feels like a bucket of cold water. You're in a five-star hotel room with a global icon, while your sister is downstairs buying fries and dreaming of a man who is currently unbuttoning your shirt.

​"I had to," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "If I tell her, the secret isn't ours anymore. It becomes everyone's."

​"I know," he sighs, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch. "But tonight, for the next hour... it’s just ours. No Lea. No ARMY. Just us."

The heavy, velvet curtains of the Brussels suite were drawn tight, blocking out the gray afternoon light and the muffled screams of fans gathering at the stadium three miles away. In the dim, amber glow of the bedside lamp, the world felt small again—reduced to the space between your skin and his.

​Jungkook didn't waste time with words. The weeks of digital longing and pixelated FaceTime calls had built an almost unbearable tension. He pressed you back against the high-thread-count sheets, his hands sliding up your thighs with a possessive, grounding grip.

​"I thought about this every night in Tokyo," he groaned, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always made your heart stutter. "Every night."

​He stripped off his oversized rehearsal shirt, his tattooed chest heaving with a jagged rhythm. You reached up, your fingers tracing the intricate ink on his shoulder before pulling him down. The kiss was deep and frantic, a desperate attempt to make up for every second you’d spent apart.

​He moved with a raw, focused intensity. He didn't just want to touch you; he wanted to reclaim you. His mouth traveled from your jaw to the sensitive dip of your collarbone, his teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to leave a mark he knew only he would see.

​When he finally slid inside you, the air left your lungs in a sharp, broken gasp. He froze for a second, his eyes locking onto yours, dark and swirling with a mix of hunger and something that looked a lot like devotion.

​"Peach," he whispered, his forehead dropping against yours as he began to move.

​The rhythm was deep and deliberate, the friction of your skin against the cool silk of the sheets creating a heat that felt like it could melt the room. You arched your back, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his arms, anchoring yourself as the world began to blur. He watched your face with a predatory focus, catching every whimper and every hitch in your breath.

​He was stronger than he had been in LA more confident, fueled by the adrenaline of the tour. He set a pace that left you breathless, his body a masterpiece of power and grace as he moved above you. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic thud of the headboard against the wall and the frantic, joined gasps of two people who were starving for each other.

​As the climax built, Jungkook gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him until there wasn't a millimeter of space left. He let out a low, guttural cry, his body tensing into a bow as he found his release, his heart hammering like a drum against your ribs.

​You collapsed into the pillows, your vision swimming, as he followed you down, his sweat-slicked skin cooling against yours. He didn't pull away; he stayed buried in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged.

​"Ten more minutes," he mumbled into your hair, his hand tangling in your messy braid. "Just ten more minutes before I have to be 'him' again."

​You closed your eyes, savoring the weight of him, even as the cold reality of the stadium clock began to tick in the back of your mind.

The elevator ride back up to your floor feels like an eternity. Your skin is still tingling, sensitized from his touch, and the faint scent of his cologne—musk and rain—clings to your collar. You take a deep breath, trying to slow your racing heart before you reach the door of your suite.

​"Good luck tonight," you had whispered just moments ago, pulling him into one last, lingering kiss. He had looked at you with such intensity, his thumb tracing your lower lip, that you almost forgot there were fifty thousand people waiting for him in a stadium across the city.

​"I'll be looking for you," he’d promised, his voice a low vibration. "Front row, right side. Don't let me down, Peach."

​You slip back into your room, the quiet clicking of the lock sounding like a thunderclap in the silence. You lean your back against the wood, closing your eyes and exhaling a long, shaky breath.

​Just as you reach for your makeup bag to check for any "evidence" of the last hour, the door handle jiggles from the outside. You jump, heart leaping into your throat, as Lea bursts in, balancing two cardboard cones of steaming Belgian fries and a bag of sodas.

​"I'm back!" she announces, kicking the door shut with her heel. "The line at the stand was insane, but I got the ones with the truffle mayo you like. Did you finish your boring press meeting?"

​"Yeah," you say, your voice sounding a little too high-pitched even to your own ears. You quickly grab a fry to give your mouth something to do. "Just... lots of rules about where we can stand and when we can take photos. The usual professional stuff."

​Lea hops onto the bed, dipping a fry into the sauce. "You look flushed, Y/N. Was the 'liaison' that annoying? Or is the heater in this hotel just set to 'tropical'?"

​"A bit of both," you mutter, walking toward the bathroom. "I'm going to fix my hair and put on some more eyeliner. We should probably head to the stadium soon if we want to beat the crowd."

​As you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, you pull the collar of your shirt aside. There, right at the base of your neck, is a faint, blooming pink mark a silent souvenir of his teeth.

​You let out a quiet, panicked laugh. You have two choices: find a very thick scarf in the middle of a warm Brussels evening, or trust your concealer to hide the fact that you were just pinned against a door by the man your sister is currently scrolling through on Twitter.

​"Hurry up!" Lea calls from the other room, her voice muffled by fries. "The soundcheck starts in forty minutes! I want to be the first ones at the barricade!"

​You reach for your heaviest foundation, your hands still trembling slightly. The "professional" journalist is back on duty, but as you catch your own reflection, you see the secret glowing in your eyes.

The irony of your outfit feels like a protective shield as you and Lea merge with the thousands of fans streaming toward the King Baudouin Stadium. You’re wearing a denim skirt and an oversized Taehyung fan shirt, while Lea is proudly sporting the matching Jungkook version.

​To any outsider, you look like a supportive sister favoring a different member. It’s the perfect cover.

​"I love that we’re matching," Lea says, adjusting her headband as you reach the high-security Golden Circle entrance. "Even if you have 'bad' taste in biases. Taehyung is great, but come on... Jungkook is the center for a reason."

​She nudges you playfully with her elbow as you pass through the metal detectors. "And remember the rule, Y/N: Hands off the Golden Maknae. Nobody gets to touch him. He’s the world’s most eligible bachelor, and I plan on keeping it that way until I magically become a K-pop star myself."

​She laughs, a bright, innocent sound that makes the guilt in your chest tighten. If only she knew that the man she’s "protecting" was just marking your neck two hours ago.

​"I think his fans have that covered, Lea," you say, adjusting the collar of your Tae shirt to make sure the concealer over your love bite is holding up in the humid Brussels air. "I don't think you have to worry about anyone getting too close."

​"Exactly!" she chirps, skipping toward the barricade. "He’s untouchable. That’s the whole point of the fantasy."

​You reach the front row, right side exactly where he told you to be. The stage is massive, a gleaming mountain of steel and LED screens. The air is thick with the scent of perfume and the electric hum of anticipation.

​As the lights finally dim and the opening notes of the intro roar through the stadium, the crowd erupts into a singular, deafening scream. The stage floor opens, and seven silhouettes rise through the smoke.

​Even from behind your "Taehyung" shirt, your eyes lock onto the figure on the far right. Jungkook looks lethal in his opening outfit—all black leather and silver chains. He scans the front row as the pyrotechnics explode, his gaze cutting through the flashing lights.

​When he finds you, his lips twitch into the tiniest, most dangerous smirk. He sees the Taehyung shirt. He sees your sister jumping up and down beside you, screaming his name.

​He steps up to his microphone for his first line, his voice booming through the speakers, steady and powerful. But as he dances toward your side of the stage during the first chorus, he deliberately lingers. He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, his eyes fixed directly on yours for a second too long to be accidental.

​Lea is losing her mind beside you, clutching your arm so hard it bruises. "Y/N! HE LOOKED OVER HERE! HE TOTALLY LOOKED AT US!"

​You just nod, your heart hammering against your ribs. You watch him perform the "untouchable" idol, the man nobody is allowed to get close to and you feel the ghost of his hands on your waist.

The energy in the King Baudouin Stadium is absolutely electric. As the concert hits its stride, the sheer professionalism of the group takes center stage. They move with a synchronized grace that looks effortless, but you know the grueling hours of rehearsal that went into every step.

​Despite the pressure of a world tour, the atmosphere on stage is surprisingly light. They aren't just idols; they’re a group of friends who genuinely seem to be having the time of their lives. Hobi is a literal sunbeam, his smile reaching the very back rows, while Jin and Jimin are constantly leaning into each other, laughing at some private joke during the transitions.

​Even Namjoon, usually the stoic leader, is grinning ear-to-ear, clearly feeding off the roar of the Brussels crowd. They are professionals in the truest sense hitting every high note and every sharp choreography mark while making it look like a backyard party.

​And then there’s Jungkook.

​He’s a powerhouse. One moment he’s a lethal performer, his movements sharp and intense, and the next, he’s doubling over laughing because Taehyung did something ridiculous during a freestyle section. Seeing him like this happy, surrounded by his brothers, and adored by thousands makes your heart swell with a different kind of affection. It’s not just about the secret hotel rooms anymore; it’s about seeing the man he is when he’s truly in his element.

​During a break between songs, the "Maknae Line" gathers at your side of the stage to drink water and interact with the fans.

​"Look, Y/N!" Lea screams over the music, pointing frantically. "Taehyung is looking at your shirt!"

​Sure enough, Taehyung spots your fan shirt. He points at his own chest, gives you a massive, boxy grin, and a double thumbs-up. You can’t help but laugh and wave back, leaning into the role of the "Tae-biased" fan.

​Beside him, Jungkook is dousing his hair with a water bottle, the droplets glistening under the stage lights. He catches the interaction and rolls his eyes playfully, a silent, "really?" directed right at you. He walks over to Taehyung, slings an arm around his shoulder, and whispers something in his ear while looking straight at your section. Both of them burst into a fit of giggles.

​"Oh my god, they're literally best friends," Lea gasps, clutching her lightstick to her chest. "They are so precious. How are they even real?"

​You just smile, the secret love bite hidden safely under your collar. You watch them laugh, watch the way Jungkook’s nose scrunches up when he finds something truly funny, and you realize that even though "nobody is allowed to get close to him," you’ve seen the side of him that doesn't need the lights or the leather.

​As the beat for the next song drops, the laughter vanishes, replaced instantly by that focused, professional intensity. The transition is seamless. They are the best in the world for a reason.

The stadium lights dim to a soft, ethereal purple as the high-energy choreography fades into the final "ment"—the moment where each member stands at the edge of the stage to speak directly to the fans. The roar of fifty thousand voices settles into a respectful, expectant hum.

​Jungkook stands center stage, his chest still heaving from the final dance break. Strands of damp hair cling to his forehead, and his skin glows under the spotlights. He takes a long drink from a water bottle, his eyes scanning the front row until they lock onto yours.

​He lifts the microphone, a small, tired, but incredibly sweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

​"Brussels... thank you," he starts in his soft, slightly accented English. The crowd screams, and he waits for the noise to dip. "Today was... special. Very warm. Like a dream I didn't want to wake up from."

​He pauses, his gaze intensifying as he looks right at the spot where you and Lea are standing. Beside you, Lea is clutching her lightstick so hard her knuckles are white, her breath hitched in her throat.

​"I was thinking today about... things that are real," Jungkook continues, his voice dropping an octave, becoming intimate despite the thousands of people listening. "Sometimes, life is like a big sun, very bright. But sometimes, the small things are better. The quiet things."

​He tilts his head, a playful, private glint in his eyes that only you recognize.

​"Like a summer day," he says, a smirk spreading across his face. "Or the smell of... peaches."

​The stadium erupts. The fans around you are screaming, theorizing instantly. "Is that a spoiler for a new song?" "Did he eat a peach today?" "He’s so random, I love him!"

​Lea is jumping up and down, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you. "Y/N! Did you hear that?! Peaches! He’s so cute! Why is he talking about fruit? He’s literally the most precious human being on earth!"

​You can barely breathe. You stand there in your Taehyung shirt, your heart thumping a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You know exactly why he said it. He’s claiming you in front of fifty thousand people, marking the air with the scent of your shower gel, and nobody—not even your sister—has any idea.

​Jungkook laughs at the crowd's reaction, a bright, melodic sound. He brings his hand to his lips, blows a kiss toward your section, and then gives a tiny, almost imperceptible wink before turning to let Jimin speak.

​As the final notes of the encore begin to play and the confetti starts to rain down like purple snow, you look up at the giant LED screen. Jungkook is grinning, drenched in sweat and glitter, looking every bit the untouchable idol.

​But you know better. You know the taste of those lips and the weight of those hands. And as a piece of confetti lands on your shoulder, right over the hidden mark on your neck, you realize that the European tour is going to be the most beautiful, dangerous secret of your life.

The adrenaline of the Brussels concert is still humming through your veins as you and Lea find a small, dimly lit bistro tucked away from the main tourist squares. The cool night air of Belgium is a sharp contrast to the sweltering heat of the stadium, but inside the restaurant, the atmosphere is warm and smells of toasted bread and red wine.

​Lea is vibrantly alive, her face flushed with a lingering glow. She hasn't stopped talking since the final encore. She’s currently scrolling through her camera roll, showing you every blurry, zoomed-in photo she took of the stage.

​"Did you see the way he moved during Standing Next to You? I swear, Y/N, the physics of it don't make sense. And his voice... when he hit that high note in the bridge, I actually felt my soul leave my body."

​You nod, taking a slow sip of your wine, trying to keep your expression neutral. "He’s a professional, Lea. He’s been doing this since he was fifteen."

​"It’s more than that!" she insists, waving a fry in the air for emphasis. "There was something different about him tonight. Did you notice the way he was looking at our section? He seemed so... happy. Like he was sharing a private joke with the universe. And that 'peaches' comment! The group chats are already exploding. Everyone thinks it’s a spoiler for a new solo project."

​You look down at your plate, a small, involuntary smile tugging at your lips. A private joke with the universe. She isn't entirely wrong.

​"And Taehyung!" Lea continues, shifting her focus to your shirt. "He was so sweet to you. You’re so lucky he gave you that double thumbs-up. If Jungkook had done that to me, they would have had to carry me out on a stretcher."

​She sighs, leaning back in her chair and looking out the window at the quiet Brussels street. "I just wonder what it’s like. To actually know them. To be the person they think about when they aren't on a stage. It must be so lonely, though. Always traveling, always hidden."

​You feel a sharp pang of guilt. You want to reach across the table, take her hand, and tell her that it is lonely, but it's also the most intense thing you've ever felt. You want to tell her that the "untouchable" man is currently probably sitting in a hotel room, waiting for your "I'm safe" text.

​"I think they're probably just normal guys when the lights go out, Lea," you say softly. "Tired, hungry, maybe a little overwhelmed by it all."

​"Maybe," she muses, finally putting her phone down to eat. "But they’re our normal guys. I’m just so glad we have three more cities. I never want this trip to end."

​As she dives back into a story about Jimin almost tripping over a prop, your phone vibrates in your lap. You sneak a glance under the table.

​J: I’m at the hotel. The room feels too big. Tell me what you’re eating. Tell me you’re thinking about me.

​You quickly type back with one hand while nodding at Lea’s latest observation.

​You: Eating fries. And yes... I haven't stopped thinking about you.

​You lock the screen and look back at your sister, who is laughing about a funny face Seokjin made. You’re the luckiest girl in the world, and the biggest liar in Brussels.

Back in the quiet of your hotel room, the contrast is jarring. Outside, the muffled sounds of Brussels at night filter through the glass, but inside, it’s just you and the lingering hum of the concert in your ears. Lea is already in the bathroom, humming the melody of Standing Next to You while she brushes her teeth, completely content.

​You change into your softest pajamas and crawl under the heavy duvet, the cold sheets making you shiver. You reach for your phone, the screen’s glow the only light in the room. Your fingers fly across the keyboard, the honesty pouring out of you now that you’re alone with your thoughts.

​You: Lea is finally winding down, but I’m wide awake. I keep thinking about earlier... I wish I was lying in bed with you right now. I want to feel your skin against mine and kiss your neck until you forget about the stadium and the lights. But I saw the floor plan... there’s security everywhere up there, isn't there? It feels like we’re miles apart even though we’re in the same building.

​You hit send, your heart thumping. You picture him in his suite, probably surrounded by staff, managers, and the elite security team that guards the "Golden Maknae" like a state secret. The "Jonas" lie protects you from Lea, but the black-suited men in the hallway protect him from the world—including you.

​A minute passes. Then two. You stare at the "Read" receipt.

​Suddenly, the three dots appear.

​J: You have no idea how much I want that too. I’m sitting here in a robe, staring at the door, wishing I could just walk down three flights of stairs. But you’re right. There are two guards at the elevators and one right outside my door. It’s a cage, Peach. A very expensive, gold-plated cage.

​A photo follows. It’s a mirror selfie. He’s disheveled, his damp hair messy, wearing a white hotel robe that hangs open just enough to show the ink on his chest. He looks tired, but his eyes are burning with that same intensity from the stage.

​J: I can still feel where you bit me earlier. It’s the only thing keeping me sane right now. Close your eyes. Imagine I’m there. I’m pulling the covers up, tucking your head under my chin... can you feel it?

​You pull the duvet tighter around your shoulders, a shaky breath escaping your lips. You can almost feel the phantom weight of his arm over your waist.

​You: I can feel it. Only three more cities, Jungkook. We’ll find a way to be alone again. I promise.

​J: Munich. I’m already counting the minutes. Go to sleep, my beautiful journalist. See you in my dreams.

​You lock your phone and press it against your chest, staring at the dark ceiling. You’re a girl in a regular hotel room, lying to her sister, while the most famous man in the world is three floors up, staring at a door he can't walk through.

The journey to Munich happens under the cover of darkness. While the city of Brussels sleeps, the tour machinery grinds on, and you find yourself sitting in a first-class train compartment, the rhythmic clack-clack of the tracks acting as a heartbeat for the night.

​Lea is slumped against the window next to you, her head lolling onto your shoulder. She’s finally crashed, her lightstick tucked safely in her bag, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the concert. The cabin is dim, lit only by the faint blue glow of the overhead lights and the passing streetlamps of the European countryside.

​Your phone vibrates against your thigh.

​J: We just crossed the border. I can see the moon from my window. Are you awake?

​You look down at Lea to make sure she’s deep in sleep before typing back, your thumb hovering over the screen.

​You: I’m awake. Lea is passed out on my shoulder. We’re in car 7. Where are you?

​J: Car 1. The 'Fortress.' There are three managers in the seats behind me and two security guards at the door. I’m wearing my mask and a hoodie, staring at the dark. It feels like I’m in a submarine.

​You bite your lip, staring out at the blurred silhouettes of trees rushing past. You are so close less than a hundred meters of steel and glass separate you yet the social distance is a chasm.

​J: I’m going to the dining car. In five minutes. For ‘water.’

​Your heart leaps. You: Jungkook, that’s risky. What if someone sees?

​J: Everyone is asleep. Including the staff. Five minutes, Peach. Just to look at you.

​You gently shift Lea’s head onto a travel pillow, your movements precise and frantic. You slip out of the compartment, your denim skirt rustling in the quiet car. The train is a ghost ship; most passengers are tucked under blankets, their faces obscured by shadows.

​You walk through the vestibule, the cold air between the cars hitting you for a split second, and enter the dining car. It’s empty, the bar closed, the tables gleaming under the moonlight filtering through the panoramic windows.

​Then, the door at the far end slides open.

​A figure in a heavy black oversized hoodie and a bucket hat steps in. He’s wearing a black mask, but you’d know those eyes anywhere. He looks like a shadow come to life. He stops when he sees you standing by the coffee station.

​He doesn't say a word. He can’t risk the sound of his voice carrying. He just walks over, his boots silent on the carpet, and traps you between his arms against the counter. The scent of him—fresh laundry and that hint of spicy musk—hits you like a physical wave.

​He pulls his mask down to his chin and leans in, his forehead resting against yours. His skin is cool from the air-conditioned car, but his breath is hot against your lips. He reaches out, his gloved hand tilting your chin up.

​"Just ten seconds," he breathes, his voice barely a ghost of a sound.

​He kisses you not the frantic, spicy kiss from the hotel, but something slow, aching, and full of the loneliness of the road. It’s a kiss that tastes of the miles you’ve traveled and the lies you’ve told.

​"I have to go," he whispers against your mouth, his eyes searching yours. "Munich is going to be better. I’ll make sure of it."

​Before you can even catch your breath, he pulls his mask back up, turns, and disappears through the sliding door back toward the "Fortress."

​You stand there in the dark, the train swaying beneath your feet, your lips tingling. You walk back to Car 7, sliding into your seat next to a snoring Lea. You look out the window at the German landscape, the Bavarian Alps beginning to rise in the distance.

The train glides into the Munich Hauptbahnhof just as the first pale light of dawn touches the spires of the Frauenkirche. The station is quiet, but you can feel the shift in the air—the "tour bubble" is moving into its next phase.

​You and Lea trudge through the station, your suitcases rattling over the stone floors. Lea is half-asleep, clutching a giant paper cup of black coffee she bought at a platform kiosk.

​"I had the weirdest dream on the train," she mumbles, pulling her hoodie tighter against the crisp Bavarian morning air. "I dreamed I smelled Jungkook’s cologne. Like, really close. It was so vivid, Y/N. Do you think I’m actually losing my mind? Is this what 'stan brain' does to you?"

​You keep your eyes fixed on the taxi sign ahead, your heart doing a slow, guilty roll in your chest. "It’s just the lack of sleep, Lea. Your brain is playing tricks on you because you’ve been listening to his solo album on repeat for six hours."

​"Probably," she sighs, climbing into the back of a cream-colored Mercedes taxi. "But man, it felt real."

​The taxi winds through the elegant streets of Munich, past the Hofgarten and the high-end boutiques of Maximilianstraße, eventually pulling up in front of a grand, neo-classical hotel. It’s even more imposing than the one in Brussels—a fortress of marble and gold.

​At the check-in desk, the receptionist looks at your passports and then taps something into her computer. Her eyebrows shoot up.

​"Ah, yes. The... press reservation," she says, her voice dropping into a professional whisper. "There has been a slight change. Your original twin room on the third floor was... unavailable due to a maintenance issue. We have moved you to the Executive Wing on the top floor. It is a much more private area."

​Lea’s coffee almost slips from her hand. "The top floor? Like... the penthouse level?"

​"Exactly," the woman smiles, handing over two gold-embossed keycards. "Breakfast can be served in-suite. We hope you enjoy your stay in Munich."

​As you ride the elevator up—the "VIP only" elevator—the silence is deafening. Lea is staring at the gold-plated buttons, her mouth hanging open. "Y/N... what kind of 'press package' is this? This is insane. This is where the world leaders stay. This is where they stay."

​The doors chime and open onto a hallway lined with thick, plush carpet that swallows the sound of your footsteps. You walk toward your room, but as you pass suite 801, the door is slightly ajar.

​You catch a glimpse of a familiar black suitcase and a pair of combat boots sitting by the door. Your breath hitches. He’s right there. You are separated by a single wall and a few inches of plaster.

​"Our room is 802!" Lea squeals, swiping her card. "Right next door! Oh my god, imagine if our neighbor is someone famous. Imagine if it’s—"

​"Lea, stop," you say, pushing her gently inside. "It’s probably just some CEO. Let’s just unpack and try to get a nap before the soundcheck."

​You shut the door, and the luxury of the suite is overwhelming—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Alps, a marble bathroom larger than your kitchen in Frankfurt, and a massive king-sized bed.

​As Lea runs to the window to take a video for her Instagram, your phone vibrates. You don't even have to look to know who it is.

​J: I told you Munich would be better. The wall between our beds is very thin. Knock twice if you can hear me.

​You look at the wall, then at Lea’s back. You walk over to the headboard, pretending to adjust a pillow, and rap your knuckles twice against the wood.

​Thump-thump.

​A second later, two distinct, heavy knocks echo back from the other side.

​Lea spins around, her eyes wide. "What was that? Did you hear that?"

​"Just the pipes, Lea," you say, your heart racing with a dangerous, exhilarating heat. "Old buildings, you know? They always make noise."

The steam from the marble shower fills the massive bathroom, and for a second, you let yourself lean against the cool tiles. Your skin still feels the phantom hum of the train, the memory of his mask-chilled face against yours. You scrub away the scent of travel, but you can’t scrub away the adrenaline.

​When you step out, wrapped in a plush hotel robe, Lea is already bouncing on the edge of the bed, her energy fully recharged by the luxury of the suite.

​"Y/N, hurry up! We’re in Munich! We have to see the Marienplatz, and I want to go to that one cafe that serves the giant pretzels. Plus," she winks, "we might run into them if we hang out in the city center. A girl can dream, right?"

​"Give me ten minutes," you laugh, pulling on a pair of high-waisted jeans and a simple black sweater. You check your phone one last time.

​You: Going out for a bit. Lea wants pretzels and sights. Don't work too hard at rehearsal.

​J: Eat a pretzel for me. I'll be stuck in the stadium all day. Be careful. See you tonight.

​The afternoon in Munich is beautiful. The Bavarian sun is bright, and the air is crisp. You and Lea wander through the Viktualienmarkt, the smell of fresh flowers and smoked meats filling the air. You take photos of her in front of the Rathaus, her Glockenspiel video already hitting her Instagram story.

​But everywhere you go, you see the "Tour" lurking. You see girls in purple hoodies, hear snippets of Seven playing from boutique speakers, and see the massive black tour buses parked near the Bayerischer Hof.

​"Look!" Lea points to a group of fans huddled near a fountain. "They think the boys are staying at the Hilton. Little do they know we’re in the penthouse of the most expensive hotel in the city. If only they knew what I knew."

​You take a bite of your giant, salty pretzel, the guilt prickling at your skin. If only she knew what I knew. As you walk toward the English Garden, your phone buzzes. It's a photo. It’s a shot of a stage monitor, blurry and bright, with the caption: “The stage is huge here. I’m tired already. Wish I was eating pretzels with a certain journalist.”

​You quickly hide the screen as Lea leans in. "What’s that? Another 'work' email from Jonas?"

​"Yeah," you say, tucking the phone into your bag. "He's... asking for a draft of the Brussels review. He's very demanding."

​"Tell Jonas to chill," Lea laughs, pulling you toward the river to watch the surfers at the Eisbachwelle. "He's ruining our sister trip."

​You spend the rest of the afternoon acting the part—the laughing sister, the casual tourist—while your heart is constantly checking the time, counting down the hours until you’re back in that hallway, back behind the thin wall that separates your world from his.

​By the time you head back to the hotel to get ready for the Munich show, the sun is setting, casting long, golden shadows over the Isar river.

​"Tonight is going to be even better than Brussels," Lea says, her eyes shining as you enter the hotel lobby. "I can feel it."

​As you step into the elevator, the doors start to close, but a hand suddenly shoots out to stop them. A man in a suit—one of the security guards you recognize from the train—steps in, followed by a tall figure draped in a long coat and a face mask.

​Your heart stops.

​He stands right next to you, his shoulder brushing yours in the crowded space. Lea is staring at her phone, oblivious, but you feel the heat radiating from him.

​Under the cover of the silence, his hand brushes against your shopping bag, his fingers ghosting over your wrist for a split second before he shifts his weight. A silent, electric "hello" in a box made of gold and mirrors.

The air in the elevator suddenly feels like it’s been sucked out of the room. Lea, who was mid-sentence talking about a pretzel topping, freezes. Her phone almost slips from her hand as her gaze travels up from the combat boots, past the long black coat, to those unmistakable, soul-piercing eyes peering over a black mask.

​She lets out a sound that is half-gasp, half-sob. "Oh my god... oh my... Jungkook?"

​The security guard immediately steps slightly in front of him, his hand moving toward his ear-piece. Jungkook stays remarkably calm, though you can see the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes—he’s trying not to laugh at the sheer chaos of the moment.

​"Lea! Lea, hey, breathe!" You grab her arm, physically pulling her back a step to give him space. "I am so sorry," you stammer, looking at the guard and then briefly locking eyes with Jungkook. "She’s just... she’s a huge fan. I’m so sorry for the intrusion."

​Lea is vibrating. Literally. "Is it really... are you...?" She can’t even finish the sentence. She looks like she’s about to faint right there on the gold-trimmed carpet.

​"I am so sorry," you repeat, your face heating up because you know exactly what he’s thinking. You’re playing the part of the embarrassed older sister, but your heart is screaming because you were just with this man. "We’ll get off at the next floor. I’m so sorry."

​Jungkook tilts his head. He doesn't speak he can't risk his voice being recorded or recognized too clearly—but he gives a very polite, humble bow. His hand subtly brushes against his coat pocket, a gesture only you know means he's thinking about his phone.

​"Y/N, did he just bow at me?" Lea whispers loudly, her voice cracking. "Did Jeon Jungkook just acknowledge my existence in an elevator?"

​"Lea, shhh! Stop it!" You pull her toward the corner as the doors chime for the 6th floor—not even your floor, but you need to get her out of there before she has a heart attack. "I’m so sorry again," you say to the guard, dragging a catatonic Lea out into the hallway.

​As the gold doors slide shut, you catch one last glimpse of Jungkook. He’s looking directly at you, and just before the doors seal, he gives a tiny, playful wink that Lea completely misses because she’s busy hyperventilating against a decorative vase.

​"I'm going to die," Lea wheezes, sliding down the wall. "I'm actually dying. Did you see his eyes? They were so dark. And he smelled like... like heaven and expensive laundry."

​"You need to calm down," you say, your own hands shaking as you check the hallway for other guests. "He’s just a person, Lea. A person trying to get to his room. Come on, let's take the stairs the rest of the way. We need to walk off this adrenaline."

​"He looked at me, Y/N! He looked right at me!"

​You guide her toward the stairwell, your mind racing. You just apologized for your sister's existence to the man who was kissing your neck twelve hours ago. The absurdity of it is almost too much to handle.

​As you reach the safety of your suite, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

​J: Your sister is very loud. But she’s cute. You, however... you looked very beautiful when you were blushing and apologizing for me.

Back in the privacy of your sprawling suite, the chaos of the elevator slowly fades into an intoxicating buzz. Lea is currently face-down on her bed, muffled screams emanating from her pillow as she relives the five seconds of proximity to her idol. She’s too far gone to notice anything else in the room.

​You seize the moment. You slip into the massive marble bathroom, locking the door behind you. You need a second to breathe, to reconcile the hysterical fan in the other room with the man who winked at you in the mirror.

​You look at yourself in the full-length mirror. Your outfit for the Munich show is ready. You’re sticking with the denim skirt from Brussels, but this time, you’re wearing a vintage-style Suga shirt dark, minimalist, and perfectly in character for the 'serious journalist' vibe you’re projecting.

​You pick up your phone, your heart doing that familiar flutter. You aim the camera at the mirror, capturing the contrast of the shirt and the skirt, making sure to include a hint of the luxurious bathroom background.

​You: Munich fit is ready. Keeping it 'professional' again. But I thought you should know... I just put on that lotion from LA.

​You: I smell exactly like peaches right now.

​You hit send, your finger trembling slightly. It’s a bold move, a direct reminder of the scent that is becoming your signature, your secret code. The "Tae" shirt was one thing; wearing his hyung's shirt while teasing him with your scent feels deliberately provocative.

​You wait, staring at the screen. You can almost feel him through the wall, just a few feet away, probably still winding down from the adrenaline of the elevator encounter and preparing for the massive show ahead.

​The three dots appear almost instantly.

​J: A Yoongi shirt? Really, Peach? First Tae, now Yoongi-hyung. You’re killing me slowly.

​J: That lotion... I can almost smell it. Don't do this to me right before I go to the stadium.

​A second message follows, darker, more possessive.

​J: I don't care who’s on your shirt. Tonight, when I’m on that stage, I’m only going to be thinking about one thing.

​J: The fact that you belong to me. And that you smell like my favorite fruit.

​J: Be in your spot. Front row, right side. Don't move.

​You lock your phone, a shiver running down your spine. The harmless teasing just escalated into a promise that feels both terrifying and exhilarating. Tonight isn't just a concert; it’s a continuation of the dance you started in the elevator.

​"Y/N! Are you almost done?" Lea’s voice calls from the bedroom, sounding marginally less hysterical. "The car for the venue is going to be here in ten minutes! I need to do my eyeliner!"

​"Just finishing!" you call back, quickly checking your reflection one last time. You touch the spot on your neck, checking the concealer, and walk out to join your sister, carrying a secret that feels heavier and more precious than any press pass.

The Munich Olympic Stadium is a sea of purple lights, the air thick with the smell of pyrotechnics and the collective roar of sixty thousand people. It’s even more intense than Brussels. The boys are on fire—their energy is raw, their smiles wider, and their synchronization is terrifyingly perfect.

​Lea has officially lost her voice. By the time they get halfway through the setlist, she’s reduced to frantic gesturing and rhythmic sobbing. Every time Jungkook body-rolls or flashes that crooked grin, she grips your arm like she’s trying to merge her DNA with yours.

​"I... can't... breathe..." she wheezes, her voice a dry rasp. She points at the stage where Jungkook is currently drenched in sweat, his wet hair pushed back, looking like a literal god under the stadium lights.

​You, meanwhile, are standing there in your Suga shirt, trying to maintain your "cool journalist" facade while your skin is prickling. You know he’s looking for you. You can feel his gaze sweeping the VIP section, hunting.

​Then, it happens.

​During "Seven," the beat drops into the chorus. Jungkook struts down the catwalk, heading straight for the right side of the barricade. He stops exactly in front of your section. The fans around you go ballistic, a wall of sound that vibrates in your chest.

​He leans forward, resting one hand on his knee, the microphone gripped tight in the other. He scans the crowd, his eyes landing directly on you. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face—the kind of look that says I know what's under that shirt.

​He leans in closer, as if he’s trying to catch a scent over the barrier, and sings the line: "Every hour, every minute, every second..."

​He lingers for a heartbeat too long, his eyes locked on yours with a dark, possessive intensity that makes your breath catch. He’s not looking at a fan; he’s looking at his girl. He knows you smell like peaches. He knows you’re wearing Yoongi’s face on your chest just to tease him.

​Lea is clutching your shoulder, her mouth open in a silent scream because she has no voice left to let it out. She thinks he’s just "fan-servicing" the front row. She has no idea she’s standing next to the reason he’s performing with such lethal pheromones tonight.

​He stands up, gives a sharp, playful salute—directly at you—and spins away to join the rest of the members for the dance break.

​"Y/N..." Lea croaks, tears streaming down her face as she collapses against the metal railing. "He... he looked... at us. He... smelled... the air. Did you see that? He looked like he wanted to eat someone."

​"He's just an intense performer, Lea," you say, your voice remarkably steady despite the fact that your heart is trying to kick its way out of your ribs. "Drink some water. You're going to pass out."

​As the final sparks of the encore rain down and the boys bow one last time, Jungkook stays back for a second. He looks toward your section, taps his nose, and gives a tiny thumbs-up before disappearing down the stage lift.

The stadium lights are still flickering in your vision as you and Lea fight through the throngs of fans outside the Olympic Stadium. Lea is buzzing with a second wind of pure adrenaline; despite having no voice left, she’s frantically typing on her phone, showing you a flyer for an "After-Show ARMY Party" at a club near the Marienplatz.

​"Y/N... you... have... to... come," she croaks, her throat sounding like sandpaper. "Music... dancing... more... Jungkook... fans!"

​"Lea, look at me," you say, gently squeezing her shoulder. "I’m exhausted. My head is pounding from the bass, and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. You go. Take a taxi, stay with the group, and text me when you’re heading back. I just want a long, hot shower and a bed that doesn't vibrate."

​She pouts, but she’s too excited to argue. She hugs you tight smelling like sweat, confetti, and pure joy and disappears into a sea of purple hoodies with a group of girls she just met in the VIP line.

​You finally make it back to the hotel. The lobby is quiet, the fans outside kept at a distance by heavy security. You ride the elevator up to the 8th floor alone, leaning your head against the cool gold leaf of the cabin wall. You just want to strip off the Suga shirt, wash the stadium grit out of your hair, and breathe.

​You’ve just stepped into your suite and tossed your bag on the bed when your phone pings. It’s a notification that makes your breath hitch.

​J: I heard the door. I know she’s gone.

​J: Don’t shower yet. Come to 801. please peach.

​Your heart starts a frantic rhythm. You look at the connecting wall, then at the door. You don’t even stop to check your makeup. You slip out of your room, the plush carpet muffling your steps, and stand in front of 801.

​Before you can even knock, the door swings open.

​Jungkook is standing there, still half-dressed in his stage gear the heavy boots are gone, but he’s still wearing the black leather pants that fit him like a second skin. His hair is a damp, beautiful mess, and his skin is glowing with the lingering heat of the performance.

​He pulls you inside and locks the door in one fluid motion, backing you up against the wood. The room is dim, lit only by the city lights of Munich spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

​"That shirt," he growls, his voice low and vibrating against your collarbone as he leans in. He doesn't kiss you yet; he just inhales deeply, his nose brushing the skin of your neck where you applied the lotion. "You really did it. You smell like peaches and you're wearing Yoongi-hyung's face. Do you have any idea what that did to me for two hours on that stage?"

​He grips your waist, his thumbs digging into the denim of your skirt. "I couldn't stop looking at you. I couldn't stop thinking about getting you behind this door."

​He leans down, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "Now... tell me again how much you wanted to kiss my neck."

The room is bathed in the cool, blue glow of the Munich skyline, but the air between you is thick and suffocatingly hot. Jungkook doesn’t let you move. He keeps you pinned against the door, his hands sliding under the hem of that Suga shirt, his palms rough and warm against your skin.

​"I spent two hours watching you in the front row," he whispers, his voice dropping into that dark, granular territory that makes your knees weak. "Watching you watch me. Knowing exactly what you smelled like under all that noise."

​He leans down, his mouth finding the sensitive junction of your neck and shoulder. He doesn't just kiss you; he marks you, his teeth grazing the skin in the exact spot where his previous mark had faded. You let out a broken gasp, your fingers tangling in the damp, dark silk of his hair, pulling him closer.

​He groans, a low, animal sound deep in his chest, and lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist, the friction of your denim skirt against his leather pants creating a frantic heat. He carries you across the expansive suite, the moonlight catching the silver of his piercings, before dropping you onto the massive king-sized bed.

​He doesn’t wait. He strips off his shirt in one fluid motion, his tattooed chest heaving, muscles corded and glistening with a light sheen of post-concert sweat. He looks lethal, a mix of the idol who just commanded sixty thousand people and the man who only wants to command you.

​He crawls over you, his weight a grounding, heavy comfort. "That shirt," he mutters, his fingers hooking into the collar of the Suga tee and tugging it upward. "It has to go. I don't want anyone else's face between us tonight."

​You help him pull it over your head, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. He stares at you for a heartbeat, his eyes dark with a possessive, raw adoration. "Beautiful," he breathes, his hand sliding down to the button of your denim skirt.

​When he finally slides inside you, the world outside—the tour, the fans, vanishes completely. There is only the rhythmic creak of the bed, the sound of your joined breathing, and the intense, soul-searing connection of his skin against yours.

​He moves with a desperate, driving pace, his movements echoing the power he showed on stage but channeled entirely into you. He watches your face, his thumb catching a stray tear of pleasure on your cheek, his expression one of total, focused devotion. He’s not the Golden Maknae here; he’s just a man starved for the one person who truly knows him.

​You arch your back, your nails digging into his shoulders as the tension coils tighter and tighter. Jungkook buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of peaches one last time before he loses control. He calls your name not a stage name, not a fan's name, but your name as he find his release, his body shuddering against yours in the quiet, moonlit room.

​He collapses beside you, pulling the heavy duvet over both of you, his heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. He doesn't let go; he tucks your head under his chin, his hand stroking your hair in the dark.

​"Stay," he whispers, his voice thick with sleep and satisfaction. "Just for an hour. Before the world wakes up."

The room is deathly quiet, the only sound the distant hum of Munich's night traffic far below. The sweat has cooled on your skin, and the tangled sheets feel like a cocoon against the rest of the world. Jungkook has his arm draped heavily over your waist, his thumb tracing idle, rhythmic circles over your hip.

​In this light, without the makeup, the leather, and the roar of sixty thousand people, he looks younger. Vulnerable. He looks like the boy who left Busan with nothing but a dream and a backpack.

​"Jungkook?" you whisper, turning your head on the pillow to look at him.

​"Hmm?" he hums, his eyes half-closed, a sleepy, contented smile tugging at his lips.

​"Can I ask you something? Not as a journalist. Not as a fan. Just... person to person?"

​He opens his eyes fully then, the dark irises reflecting the faint glow of the city lights. He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you. "Anything, Peach. You know that."

​You hesitate, tracing the intricate tattoos on his forearm with your fingertip. "Do you ever feel like 'Jungkook of BTS' is a character you're playing? Like... when you're on that stage, do you ever look at your own hands and wonder who they actually belong to?"

​He stays silent for a long moment, his expression turning thoughtful, a shadow of melancholy crossing his face. He exhales a long, shaky breath.

​"Every day," he admits softly. "Sometimes I wake up in hotels like this and for the first ten seconds, I don't know what city I'm in or what year it is. I see the 'Idol' in the mirror, and he’s perfect. He’s strong. He never misses a step. But then I look at my phone and I see a text from my mom, or I think about the smell of the sea back home, and I realize that 'Idol' doesn't know how to just... exist. He only knows how to perform."

​He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. "That’s why I need this. Why I need you. With you, I don't have to be the Golden Maknae. I can just be the guy who likes banana milk and gets nervous when he can't find his favorite socks. You’re the only person who looks at me and doesn't see a billboard."

​You swallow hard, the weight of his honesty hitting you in the chest. "Are you happy, JK? Truly? Or are you just tired?"

​He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "I'm both. I'm exhausted, my bones ache, and I miss my dog. But when I was on that stage tonight and I saw you in that ridiculous Suga shirt... I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. For the first time in a long time, the noise in my head went quiet."

​He pulls you closer, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. "Ask me one more. Anything."

The atmosphere in the room shifts. The playful energy from the concert and the heat of the last hour settle into something heavier, something more real. You trace the line of his jaw with your thumb, your voice dropping to a whisper that barely carries across the pillows.

​"Jungkook," you start, your heart aching with the weight of the question. "I look at you, and I see the world on your shoulders. I see the schedules, the expectations, the millions of people who own a piece of your heart. And then there’s us. In these dark rooms, behind these thick walls."

​You pause, searching his eyes for a flicker of the truth he usually hides.

​"Am I just a beautiful distraction? A way for you to forget the noise for a few hours? Because I look at my life my quiet, normal life and then I look at yours... and I don't see how they ever fit together outside of a hotel suite. I’m terrified that I’m just a dream you’re having while you’re on tour, and that when the lights finally go out and the trucks are packed, there’s no room for me in your 'real' future. How can I be a future when our worlds don't even speak the same language?"

​Jungkook’s expression goes still. The sleepy smile vanishes, replaced by an intensity that is almost painful to look at. He doesn't pull away; instead, he shifts closer, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone with a reverence that makes your breath hitch.

​"A distraction?" he repeats, the word sounding like a bruise in his mouth. He shakes his head slowly. "Peach, you aren't the distraction from my life. You’re the only thing that makes me remember I have one. The 'real' world you’re talking about? The stadiums, the cameras, the screaming? That’s the noise. That’s the dream sometimes a nightmare."

​He leans in until your foreheads are touching, his dark eyes searching yours.

​"I don't want a 'future' that’s just more of this," he gestures vaguely to the luxury of the room. "I want a future where I can wake up and smell peaches without having to hide. I know the languages don't match. I know I’m a mess of schedules and security. but don't you dare think you’re just a way to pass the time. You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not just a product on a shelf."

​He kisses you then, a slow, desperate kiss that feels like a plea. "Don't decide our ending before we've even finished the first chapter. Let me worry about the walls. You just... stay with me. Please."

​The silence that follows is thick with everything left unsaid. For a moment, it feels like the world has truly stopped.

​Then, the sharp beep-click of a keycard echoes through the wall from the room next door. You jump, the spell broken instantly. Lea is home. You hear her muffled voice, still raspy, probably humming a song as she kicks off her shoes.

​"I have to go," you whisper, panic rising in your chest as you reach for your clothes scattered on the floor.

The transition from the heavy, soul-baring conversation back to the high-stakes reality of your secret is jarring. You lean back into him for one last, lingering kiss—a deep, grounding press of lips that feels like an anchor. For a few heartbeats, you lose yourselves in each other again, the heat returning, the world outside the suite vanishing. His hands find the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and for a second, you almost don't care about the keycard click next door.

​Then, you pull away with a breathless, shaky giggle, your heart hammering against your ribs. "I really have to go," you whisper, smoothing your hair and throwing the Suga shirt back on.

​Jungkook watches you from the pillows, his eyes dark and heavy with a mix of adoration and reluctance. "Go," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "Before I lock the door and keep you here until Seoul."

​You blow him one final kiss and slip out into the hallway. The plush carpet swallows the sound of your frantic footsteps. You swipe your card, the light flashes green, and you slip into your suite just as Lea is tossing her jacket onto the sofa.

​She looks up, her eyes red-rimmed from the party lights and her face smudged with glitter. "Oh! You're awake?" she croaks, her voice almost entirely gone now. "I thought... you'd be... dead to the world."

​"I just got up to get some water," you say, your voice remarkably steady despite the adrenaline. You walk toward the mini-bar, avoiding the direct light. "How was the party? Did you meet any nice people?"

​Lea flops onto her bed, a huge, delirious grin on her face. "Incredible. So many... fans. We danced to Seven... three times." She coughs, clutching her throat. "But it wasn't... as good as... the elevator. Nothing will... ever be."

​You turn around, leaning against the counter with a glass of water, watching your sister—the person you love most, and the person you are deceiving most.

​"You're obsessed, Lea," you tease gently, the lie sliding off your tongue with practiced ease. "You need to sleep. We have a train to Prague in the morning."

​"I know... I know..." she mumbles, already pulling the duvet over her head. She pauses, sniffing the air suddenly. "Wait... Y/N? Did you... spray something?"

​Your heart stops. You freeze, the glass halfway to your lips. "What do you mean?"

​"The room... it smells... so good," she says, her eyes drifting shut. "Like... summer. Like... peaches."

​"It's just the hotel toiletries, Lea," you say, your voice a calm, soothing melody. "They’re very fancy. Now go to sleep."

​"Lucky..." she whispers, her breathing evening out within seconds.

​You stand there in the dark, the scent of your own skin betraying you, and look at the wall that separates you from the most famous man in the world. You're a liar, a secret-keeper, and a "distraction"—but as you climb into your own bed, you realize you wouldn't trade this dangerous, peach-scented life for anything.

The morning light in the hallway is far too bright for the amount of sleep you actually got. You’re dressed in a baggy grey tracksuit, your hair shoved into a messy, structural bun that’s currently losing a battle with gravity. You look like a normal traveler—tired, casual, and definitely not like the woman who was draped across a global superstar three hours ago.

​Lea, however, is at a level ten. Her voice has miraculously returned just enough to be shrill.

​"I'm telling you, Y/N, we should have waited by the side entrance! I saw a TikTok that said they leave at 8:00 AM. If we had just—"

​"Lea, for the tenth time, we have a train to catch," you snap, dragging your heavy suitcase behind you. You’re frustrated, running on caffeine and lingering nerves, and she’s trailing behind you with her phone out, still obsessing over the elevator. "I don't care about the side entrance. I care about being in Prague by dinner. Can you please just focus on the elevator button?"

​"You're so grumpy! It’s like you didn't even enjoy the concert—"

​"I enjoyed it! I just don't want to live my life staring at a parking lot!" You turn the corner toward the elevators, gesticulating wildly with your hand, completely blinded by your own annoyance.

​CRASH.

​It happens in slow motion. You walk full-tilt into something solid, warm, and smelling faintly of expensive citrus and fabric softener. Your suitcase clips a pair of designer boots, tips over with a deafening thud, and the momentum sends you stumbling backward.

​Your sneakers slide on the polished marble, and you hit the floor hard, landing right on your backside.

​"Oof—"

​"Whoa! Hey, are you okay?"

​A hand reaches out immediately. You look up, breathless and mortified, and your heart stops.

​Standing right in front of you are Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook. They’re dressed for travel—masks on, beanies pulled low, surrounded by three massive security guards who look ready to tackle you. Taehyung is the one who reached out, his eyes wide with surprise behind his tinted glasses. Jimin is stifling a giggle behind his hand, looking down at your sprawled form.

​And Jungkook.

​He’s standing right in the center, a black backpack slung over one shoulder. He freezes, his eyes locking onto yours. For a split second, the "Idol" mask slips, and you see pure, panicked concern in his gaze. He looks like he wants to drop to his knees and pick you up, but he knows he can't. He knows the guards—and Lea—are watching.

​Lea, meanwhile, has turned into a literal statue behind you. She isn't screaming. She isn't moving. She looks like she’s forgotten how to breathe.

[jjksmagicshop]

: ̗̀➛ Hit Me Up | JJK | Masterlist

synopsis: for a while now, weverse has allowed fans to ‘dm’ their favourite idols. it’s controlled, it’s monitored, it’s all very pc… until you come along one drunken night and break the rules. what is supposed to be a harmless act of communication quickly spirals into much, much more and begs the question, how far should communication between a fan and an idol really go?

genre: jjk x reader (fem), smau mini-series, fluff, smut, delulu, crack

rating: 18+ | minors, dni

a/n: hi! before we get started, a few quick things ♡

firstly, welcome!! i'm so happy you're here 🥹

secondly, this fic exists purely for the vibes. it is ridiculously self-indulgent, highly unrealistic, and fuelled almost entirely by my own delulu, so please read with that in mind and enjoy the chaos.

i'm also from the uk, which means british slang, spellings, and the occasional phrase that makes absolutely no sense outside of this tiny island have definitely found their way into the story.

and just to make it crystal clear: every edit, photo, tweet, ig story, text exchange, and social media post included in this smau is fictional and created by me for storytelling purposes. nothing featured here should be considered a real quote, interaction, or factual representation of any person.

lastly, thank you. genuinely. every like, reblog, comment, message, and bit of support means more than i can put into words. what started as a silly little idea somehow turned into a lovely little duck and bunny corner of the internet, and i'm so grateful for everyone who's come along for the ride ♡

(ps. if you enjoy a chapter, don't be shy - likes and comments are always appreciated. i read every single one and they never fail to make me smile ♡)

liquid luck

who is this?

said too much

not duck

next question

ask him

he said no

too hard

horny hell

secured

i know bts

feels different

dead ass

my little duck

big brother

zero chill

swim

alternate reality

use your words

hi duckling

shut down

code red

brave face

going crazy

time will tell

cosmic sign

break a leg

better mood

hi army

can we talk?

wrap it up

enjoy the ride

cursed out

i trust you

i'm your kook

down bad

play it off

te amo, mexico

already yours

[ongoing]

© 2026 jjksmagicshop. please don't copy, translate, or repost - share the original link ♡

[jkwrites-m]

Daddy Kookie Masterpost

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: childhood lovers to exes to lovers, parents au, angst, smut, fluff

Word Count: 102.9k currently (including drabbles)

Summary: After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, angst, smut, fluff, childhood lovers, abandonment, ghosting, young (teenage) pregnancy, mentions of parental death, mentions of absent parent, resentment, angst, anger, heartbreak, cursing, struggle, brief homelessness, shelters, co-parenting, growth, unintentional parental neglect, depression, fighting, arguments, emotional infidelity, moving, domestic, long-distance, industry manipulation, trauma response, saesangs, doxxing, backlash, harassment, cute family moments, explicit: praising, kissing, missionary, doggy, riding, oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected sex, breastplay, riding, phone (FaceTime) sex, body worship,

Note: bold is jk’s pov - regular text is y/n’s

A/N: OKAY so I know the title sounds weird asf but it’ll make sense, i promise 😭 since this is an ongoing series, i'll update warnings as needed.

A/N 2: all the drabbles are in chronological order!

♡ MASTERLIST

═══════

Part 1: 8.9k

Ghosts Can’t Be Dads (takes place early-mid part 1): 2k

Make Our Own Music (takes place early-mid part 1): 4.7k

Part 2: 6.4k

Part 3: 8k

Part 4: 8.9k

Part 5: 8.6k

So, My Daddy… (takes place during part 5): 1.5k

Part 6: 8k

Part 7: 6.3k

Part 8: 7.5k

Part 9: 7.8k

Part 10: 7.6k

Part 11: 7.1k

Part 12: 9.6k

Part 13: 11.6k

Part 14: tba

Part 15: tba

Part 16: tba

Part 17: tba

Part 18: tba

Part 19: tba

Part 20: tba

Part 21: tba

Part 22: tba

Part 23: tba

Part 24: tba

Part 25 (Final): tba

═══════

♡ if you prefer to read on a03 - click here! ♡ 🚧

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

[mikrokookiex]

Do you have any idol jk recs??

I'm sorry for late posting, I'm really very very busy even now but i can't keep you waiting when already three days have passed, so here you are love. i hope you like them. Enjoy.

Idol!Jungkook Fanfics

➛ The Mask of Purity by @lostinbangtan7 (on-going)

➛ Amor Genuino by @kalisburnerphone

➛ Out of Breathe by @bangtanfanfiction

➛ Yearning by @soft4gguk

➛ Hit Me Up by @jjksmagicshop (on-going, smau series)

➛ Late-Night Convenience Store by @97linelover

➛ To Be Loved Is To Be Seen by @twilghtkoo

➛ Creamy Pasta, Heated Love by @kittenan

➛ Just One Night by @smoljimjim

➛ After Hours by @kooggukk

➛ Terms and Condition by @jeonettefics

➛ One Song Too Many by @joonam

➛ Beyond The Camera by @ggukool

➛ Overdrive by @jjksdoll

➛ Encore by @youthguk

➛ The Golden Cage by @97linelover

➛ I'm Sure by @kooksure (on-going)

➛ Makeup Artist by @kooksdollyy

➛ The Rival Idol Experiment by @hvlplvss (on-going)

➛ Forgiving is just one aspect of loving someone by @moodysfn

➛ Don't Get Caught by @kooksdollyy

➛ Daddy Kookie by @jkwrites-m (on-going)

➛ Push and Pull by @awrkive

➛ Decay by @youthguk

➛ Angel by @kooksdollyy

➛ The Surprise by @directionernullneun

➛ Opposite of Sun by @euphorajeon

➛ Light of the Morning by @euphorajeon

➛ Off the Beam by @euphorajeon

➛ If it's a Dream (I'll Come Around) by @euphorajeon

➛ Reckless by @sparklingchim

➛ Not in the Job Description by @jooniesthigh

➛ All Over Again by @delugguk

➛ ADHD Kisses by @zerocoded

➛ Denial by @girlygguk

➛ The Boy with Galaxies in his Eyes by @oddinary4bts

➛ Jungkook: 8:45pm by @bonny-kookoo

➛ Are you going to Stay? by @hollyhomburg

➛ If I Could Lie by @alpacaparkaseok

➛ Decision to Leave by @jungkook97

➛ Hot Hearted by @bonny-kookoo

➛ Can't Get Over You by @jungkook97

➛ Crush on You by @jungkook97

➛ Admit it by @jungkook97

➛ Starstruck by @inthelow

➛ The Humanity Formula by @solecize (on-going)

Happy reading.

[leax-62]

Under Oath | JJK ± part 3

In which you come to Seoul for a summer law internship already drowning in the pressure of qualifying as a solicitor, only for your carefully planned life to become ten times harder when you keep crossing paths with an annoyingly attractive stranger named Jungkook. You don’t know he’s South Korea’s most beloved star, and he doesn’t know why the only person unimpressed by him is suddenly the one he can’t stay away from.

Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Law student!reader

Genre: Forced proximity | Romance | Slice of life | Slow burn | Fluff | Enemies to lovers | Comedy

Warnings/content: Jungkook × Reader, Law Student Reader, Summer Internship, Study Abroad, Hidden Identity, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Celebrity Romance, Secret Relationship, Opposites Attract, Tension, Flirting, Late Night Talks, Protective Jungkook, Jealousy, Emotional Slow Burn, Kisses, Mutual Pining, Seoul Summer, Career Pressure, Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Drama, Happy Ending

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Sorry this took so long to post, exams have literally been kicking me in the ass😭 anyways hope you guys enjoy jungkook being a menace to society once again and like always be sure to let me know in the comments what you think and whether you want another chapter, absolutely adore you guys’ commentary😘

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You know,” he said casually, voice rough with sleep, “I had this really optimistic idea that maybe you’d walk in here and pretend not to recognise me. You know..just for professionalism. Or maybe for my dignity. But this…” he gestured vaguely toward your expression, “this is so much better.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah I get that a lot,” he said sympathetically. “You gotta get in line though, too many people, not enough Jungkook. It’s a national crisis.”

You stared at him in complete horror. “No,” you said immediately. “No. No. No. No. No. Absolutely not. This is not happening right now.” Clearly you tripped and smashed your head against one of the billionaire vampire walls in this penthouse, so your dying brain decided to hallucinate the single most stressful scenario imaginable. Because there was absolutely no way, none whatsoever, that the terrifying mystery client your entire internship depended on was somehow the same man you’d spent last night arguing with.

Jungkook looked offended. “Wow. And here I thought you were at least a little excited to see me.”

“What sane person would be excited to end up working for the man they nearly prosecuted over noodles.”

“That’s fair,” he admitted. “You did come at me like you were billing by the hour.”

“You accused my friend of being a stalker.”

“And you called me emotionally constipated in public.”

“Because you were.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Still thinking about me, then?”

“I think about a lot of disasters. It’s called pattern recognition.”

That made him laugh under his breath, which was deeply unfortunate because it sounded annoyingly good.

He was standing barefoot in the middle of his penthouse kitchen looking completely relaxed while your entire professional future disintegrated in front of you. Dark hair messy and tattoos visible beneath warm apartment lighting like he belonged in some ridiculously stylised Netflix drama instead of real life.

“You should’ve gotten your chauffeur to warn me,” you accused.

“And ruin this moment?” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “You wound me.”

“You are enjoying this way too much.”

“Obviously.” His eyes flicked over your expression, openly entertained. “Do you know how satisfying this is for me?”

“How could any part of this possibly be satisfying?”

“You walked in here looking so confident.” He mimicked your posture cruelly accurately. “‘Good evening, I’m here regarding…’ then you looked up and immediately started dying inside.”

“I was ambushed.”

“You were humbled.”

“You are literally the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“Mhm.” He nodded. “And yet you argued with me for 10 minutes straight instead of leaving.”

“That was civic duty.”

“That was chemistry.”

“That was me defending my friend from a billionaire Batman impersonator with boundary issues.”

His grin widened instantly. “Billionaire Batman impersonator is definitely new.”

“You dress like you own several illegal nightclubs.”

“I own zero illegal nightclubs.”

“The fact you specified illegal is concerning.”

He leaned against the kitchen island, still looking far too pleased with himself. “You know what’s interesting though?”

“I cannot stress enough how much I do not care.”

“You still never told me your name.”

You blinked.

Then pointed at him immediately. “No. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That weird smooth callback thing. I can literally see you trying to create tension.”

“Tension?” He looked delighted. “Oh, so you feel it too.”

“I feel homicidal.”

“That’s still a feeling.”

You groaned and dragged a hand down your face. “This is a nightmare.”

“For you maybe.” He took a sip of his drink, completely unbothered. “Personally, I’m having a fantastic evening.”

“Of course you are. You thrive in hostile environments.”

“You think this is hostile?” His eyes flicked over you lazily. “Baby, you haven’t even threatened legal action yet.”

Your jaw dropped. “Do not call me baby.”

“Why? You called me psychologically unstable within thirty seconds of meeting me.”

“That wasn’t flirting.”

“It absolutely was.”

“It was an observation.”

“It was passionate.” He smiled slightly. “You get this little wrinkle between your eyebrows when you’re annoyed. It’s cute.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Are you always this unbearable?”

“Only around people I like.”

The answer came so easily, so casually, that it caught you off guard for half a second.

Which was apparently half a second too long.

Jungkook noticed instantly.

“There it is,” he said softly, victorious. “That look again.”

“There is no look.”

“The one where you realise I’m attractive and get angry about it.”

“I have never once realised that.”

“Mhm.”

“I think you look expensive and stressful. Like a lawsuit in human form.”

“Still not hearing an insult.”

“You are genuinely impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping slightly closer now, “you don’t seem to mind my company.”

You crossed your arms immediately. “Unfortunately, this meeting is mandatory.”

“Is that why you’re blushing?”

“I’m not blushing.”

“You are a little.”

“I’m experiencing professional distress.”

He laughed quietly again, looking entirely too happy about your suffering.

“So,” he murmured, “do I finally get your name? Or should I keep calling you ‘the terrifying law student who threatened to sue me over dinner’?”

You stared at him flatly. “You’re not getting my name.”

Jungkook leaned back against the counter like this had suddenly become his favourite game of all time. “Okay,” he said easily. “Then I’ll guess.”

“That somehow feels more threatening.”

“You should be grateful,” he replied. “I’m about to put in real effort here.”

“I would actually prefer less effort.”

He ignored you completely, eyes narrowing slightly in fake concentration as he looked you over.

“…Eleanor.”

You blinked once. “What?”

“You have intense Eleanor energy.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you look like you’d reject a marriage proposal during wartime and then write poetry about it.”

“That is the most unhinged thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Mmm, no.” He took another sip of his drink. “I can do worse. You also have strong ‘haunting a manor house in 1884’ vibes.”

You stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You know.” He gestured vaguely. “Victorian ghost woman. Wandering candlelit hallways. Judging men morally.”

“That is not a category of person.”

“It absolutely is. You’d die mysteriously of tuberculosis after ruining someone emotionally.”

Your mouth fell open. “Tuberculosis?!”

“You’d make it elegant.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” he said automatically. “You just don’t enjoy being perceived.”

“That wasn’t perception. That was a paranormal attack.”

He grinned. “Okay, maybe not Eleanor then.”

“There is no ‘maybe.’”

“…Beatrice.”

“That’s worse somehow.”

“Vivienne?”

“You’re naming women who own cursed lockets.”

“You look like you would own a cursed locket.”

“You look like you bite people recreationally.”

“That one’s fair.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why are all your guesses the names of women who died tragically waiting for their husbands at sea?”

“Because you have the energy of someone who says things like ‘I shall never recover from this betrayal.’”

“I have literally never said that.”

“You’re saying it internally right now.”

You hated that he might be correct.

Jungkook’s eyes lit up immediately. “Oh my God, I am correct.”

“No you’re stupid. Dare I say the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”

“And you,” he said, pointing at you lazily, “are one emotionally devastating breeze away from becoming folklore.”

“That sentence should’ve stayed inside your head.”

“No, listen.” He was fully invested now. “You don’t have modern girl names.”

“I have a perfectly normal name.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It exists.”

“Mhm. Sure. Next you’re gonna tell me your name is something contemporary like Chloe.”

You folded your arms. “What’s wrong with Chloe?”

“Nothing. But you’re not a Chloe.” He looked genuinely certain about this. “Chloes drink iced matcha and forgive men too quickly.”

“And what exactly do I do?”

“You glare at people like a disappointed duchess.”

You barked out a laugh before you could stop yourself.

Jungkook froze dramatically and pointed at you immediately. “There. That. I won.”

“You did not win anything.”

“You laughed.”

“That was an accident.”

“That was joy.”

“That was disbelief.”

“Same chemical family.”

You shook your head, trying and failing to suppress another smile.

He noticed immediately, of course.

“Oh, this is huge for me.”

“Stop acting like you’ve completed a military operation.”

“I practically have.” He straightened slightly. “Okay, final guesses.”

“There should not be multiple rounds.”

“Catherine.”

“No.”

“Isadora.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Genevieve.”

“What century do you think I was born in?”

“You’re not helping your case, Genevieve.” Then his eyes narrowed suddenly, like he’d had a thought.

“Wait.”

You immediately regretted the look on his face.

“You have one of those deceptively cute names, don’t you?”

“What does that mean?”

“Like something sweet and harmless.” He tilted his head suspiciously. “Which is ironic because you argue like you’re cross-examining the devil.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Don’t deflect, Victorian spectre.”

“You need psychiatric evaluation.”

“And you need to tell me your name.”

“No.”

“Okay,” he said lightly. “Then I’m sticking with Beatrice the Haunted.”

You stared at him. “That is genuinely the worst thing anyone has ever called me.”

He smiled slowly. “Aw. We’re bonding.”

For a second, just for a slight, miniscule second you thought he’d finally dropped the subject and was capable of holding a normal conversation with another human. But no of course not.

He snapped his fingers softly.

“Wait. You’re from London.”

You blinked. “That sounded less like a question and more like you just identified a rare disease.”

“See?” He pointed at you immediately. “Only Londoners answer that fast.”

“That proves nothing.”

“It proves everything.” He pushed off the counter, clearly delighted with himself now. “Oh, this changes the naming strategy entirely.”

You already hated where this was going.

“No-”

“Charlotte.”

“No.”

“Of course not,” he muttered. “Too stable.”

“What does that mean?”

“You need a name with historical trauma.”

“That is not a category.”

“It is in Britain.”

You made a strangled noise of disbelief as he continued completely uninterrupted.

“Okay. Amelia?”

“No.”

“Arabella?”

“You are naming girls who died from poor air quality in period dramas.”

“You look like you’d survive the plague through sheer moral superiority.”

“That’s not flattering!”

“It is to me.”

You pointed at him accusingly. “You think all British women are either Victorian ghosts or divorced duchesses.”

“Well…” He looked genuinely thoughtful. “The accent contributes.”

“I do not sound like a duchess.”

“You absolutely do when you’re annoyed.” He straightened mockingly, lowering his voice into a painfully accurate impression of you. “Actually, that’s not the issue here.”

Your jaw dropped. “Was that supposed to be me?”

“It was emotionally exact.”

“That was criminally disrespectful.”

“That was art.”

You covered your face briefly. “Oh my God.”

“No wait, I’ve got it.” His eyes lit up again. “You have one of those aggressively British names that sounds innocent until the owner starts psychologically dismantling someone.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Like…” he tilted his head, considering, “Lucy.”

You stared.

He pointed at you instantly. “That reaction meant something.”

“It meant I’m shocked you managed to say a normal name for once.”

“So I’m getting warmer.”

“You are nowhere near me.”

“That sounded flirtier than you intended.”

“I need you to know this is the worst evening of my life.”

“Mmm, disagree.” He smiled into his glass. “You laughed twice. We’re progressing beautifully.”

“We are not progressing.”

“We’re absolutely progressing. Yesterday you threatened me in a restaurant.”

“I can still do that.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, amused. “But now you’d do it with fondness.”

You stared at him in horror. “You are deeply delusional.”

“And yet you’re still here, Lady Agatha.”

“AGATHA?”

“You hated that one immediately. Interesting.”

“Because that’s the name of a woman who owns seventeen cats and poisons her third husband.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You genuinely need supervision.”

He grinned. “Okay, not Agatha. Maybe…” He looked at you up and down again dramatically. “Elizabeth.”

You snorted. “What, because I’m from London? You think we all emerge from the Thames named Elizabeth?”

“No, because you have queen energy.”

You blinked.

Then narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Was that flirting?”

“A little.”

“That was terrible flirting.”

“You blushed though.”

“I’m experiencing stress.”

“You keep saying that like it explains why you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to kill me and kiss me at the same time.”

You choked on absolutely nothing.

Jungkook looked unbearably smug immediately after.

“Oh my God,” he said quietly. “I’m right.”

“Oh my God,” you said suddenly, cutting him off with a sharp point of your finger, “can we actually discuss the bigger issue here?”

Jungkook blinked. “Which is?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Silence.

Real silence this time.

Not teasing silence. Not banter silence.

Just Jungkook staring at you like you’d calmly informed him the moon was fake.

“…Excuse me?”

You frowned. “I know your name is Jungkook. And I know you’re famous. But that’s literally it. I need to know who my client is if I want to be able to help them properly.”

His expression didn’t change.

Which somehow made it worse.

Then slowly he set his glass down.

“You don’t know who I am.”

It wasn’t a question.

You shrugged. “Not really?”

He looked genuinely offended.

“You argued with me in a restaurant,” he said slowly, “without knowing who I was?”

“Yes?”

“Oh my God.”

He actually turned away from you for a second, hand dragging down his face like he physically needed a moment to process this.

You watched him blankly. “Why are you reacting like I shot you?”

“Because this has literally never happened to me before.”

“That cannot possibly be true.”

“Baby—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“—people recognise me in airports wearing masks and hats.”

“Okay?”

“People cry when they meet me.”

“That feels excessive.”

He stared at you in disbelief. “Excessive?”

“Yes? You’re just a man.”

That hit him like a sniper shot.

“A man,” he repeated flatly.

“Yes.”

“I’m globally adored.”

“Congratulations.”

“Millions of people would kill to be where you are right now.”

You looked around the penthouse slowly. “In fairness, the rent does seem lovely.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“You’re being weirdly emotional about this.”

“I’m being weirdly emotional?” He laughed once in complete disbelief. “You have any idea how many people would sell a kidney for this conversation?”

“Seems medically irresponsible.”

“I am one of the most desired men on the planet.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “That explains the ego.”

“My ego?” He looked genuinely scandalised. “You’re standing in my kitchen acting like I’m some random guy named Steve.”

“Well you do look like you answer emails named Steve.”

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’ll survive.”

“No, because now I’m thinking about it.” He pointed accusingly. “You genuinely looked me in the eyes yesterday and went ‘pipe down on the ego a bit’ without knowing who I was.”

“Yes.”

“That is psychotic behaviour.”

“That is equality.”

He stared at you for another second before laughing under his breath again, this time more stunned than amused.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re famous apparently. We all have struggles.”

“You really don’t know anything about me?”

You shrugged again. “You sing?”

His mouth actually fell open slightly.

“I sing,” he repeated.

“See? I knew something.”

“That’s like describing the Titanic as ‘a boat.’

“I’m trying my best.”

“No, because this is offensive now.” He stepped closer dramatically, fully invested. “Do you understand the level of global impact I have?”

“You sound like a natural disaster.”

“I basically am.”

You snorted.

Jungkook pointed at you triumphantly. “There. Again. You think I’m funny.”

“I think you’re insane in a very expensive way.”

“I’ve sold out stadiums.”

“I’ve survived the London Underground at rush hour. We’ve both suffered.”

“That is not comparable.”

“It builds character.”

He shook his head slowly, still looking faintly betrayed. “I can’t believe this.”

“I can. I literally told you yesterday we didn’t know who you were.”

“Yeah, but I thought maybe you were lying.”

You barked out a laugh. “You thought we were pretending not to know you?”

“I don’t know! Maybe you were committed to the bit!”

“What bit?”

“The ‘we are mysterious women untouched by celebrity culture’ bit!”

“That is genuinely one of the most self-absorbed sentences I’ve ever heard.”

“Because it’s usually true!”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

Then, with complete sincerity, he said—

“Do you want me to explain BTS to you?”

“Not at all,” you said immediately. “We have serious matters to attend to.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You’re trying to escape the conversation.”

“I’m trying to preserve what little sanity I have left.”

“Too late for that.”

You pointed toward the dining area. “We’re supposed to be discussing internship expectations, timelines, research structure—”

“Nope.”

Before you could react properly, Jungkook stepped forward, grabbed your wrist lightly, and steered you sideways.

“Wait—”

“Sit.”

“I’m not a dog—”

“You’re worse. You argue.”

You stumbled backward as he pushed you down onto the massive cream sofa with insulting ease.

“Excuse me?” you said incredulously.

“Class is starting.”

“There is no class.”

“There absolutely is,” he said, already grabbing the remote.

The enormous television flickered on across the penthouse wall.

You stared at it. Then at him.

Then back at it.

“…No.”

“Oh yes.”

“Jungkook.”

“Shh.” He pointed at you sternly. “Learning environment.”

“This is kidnapping.”

“This is culture.”

He dropped down onto the sofa beside you far too close, phone already in his hand as he connected it to the screen.

The TV instantly filled with a cinematic montage of screaming stadiums, flashing lights, and dramatic music loud enough to signal the apocalypse.

You blinked once.

Then slowly turned toward him.

“…What is this.”

Jungkook looked deeply offended. “Our legacy.”

“Our—”

“BTS autobiography crash course.” He sounded absurdly pleased with himself. “Since apparently the British education system failed you.”

“I studied constitutional law.”

“And yet here you sit. Ignorant.”

“I was happier ignorant.”

“Impossible. Watch this.”

The screen cut to footage of seven younger boys dancing in a tiny practice room.

Jungkook pointed immediately. “That’s us before global domination.”

You leaned back into the sofa with the exhausted expression of someone trapped in a hostage documentary.

“You cannot seriously be making me watch your origin story.”

“You called me Steve.”

“I said you looked like a Steve.”

“Which is worse.”

The documentary music swelled dramatically.

“—and from humble beginnings,” a narrator voice boomed.

You rubbed your temples. “Why does this sound like the trailer for a superhero movie?”

“Because we’re icons.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“We’re inspirational.”

“You’re emotionally sponsored by your own ego.”

He gasped softly. “That was cruel.”

“It was accurate.”

Jungkook ignored you completely, eyes back on the television as clips of sold out stadiums flashed across the screen.

“There,” he said proudly. “Look at that crowd.”

“That’s concerningly large.”

“Millions adore me.”

“Mhm.”

“Globally.”

“Wrap it up.”

“People cry over me.”

“Again. Medically concerning.”

“You are genuinely ruining my moment.”

“I’m trying to save us both.”

He pointed at the screen again. “That’s us at the Billboard Awards.”

“Congratulations.”

“That’s us at the Grammys.”

“Well done.”

“That’s us addressing the United Nations.”

You blinked. “Okay wait.”

His grin became instantly smug. “Yeah.”

“You spoke at the UN?”

“Multiple times.”

You stared at the screen for a second longer before looking back at him suspiciously.

“…Why are you still like this then?”

His jaw dropped. “Like what?”

“Annoying.”

“That’s insane. I just showed you world changing achievements.”

“And yet you still act like a man who’d start arguments recreationally in Tesco.”

“I don’t even know what Tesco is.”

“That’s because rich people have assistants.”

He looked scandalised. “I’ve bought groceries before thank you.”

“Sure.”

“I have!”

“What’d you buy?”

He opened his mouth.

Paused.

Then frowned slightly.

“…Protein?”

You burst out laughing.

Jungkook pointed at you immediately. “That reaction was classist.”

“You said ‘protein’ like a divorced gym teacher.”

“It’s a category!”

“It’s not a grocery item!”

He looked deeply betrayed by your laughter while the TV behind him continued showing footage of screaming fans and sold out arenas.

“And this,” he said firmly, gesturing broadly to the entire screen, “is why people respect me.”

“No,” you corrected through laughter, “this is why people market you.”

His eyes narrowed. “You are actually evil.”

“I’m a law student. It’s basically vocational training.”

The documentary switched to emotional piano music.

“Oh no,” you muttered immediately. “We’ve entered the tragic backstory section.”

“Show some respect.”

“You literally trapped me on your sofa.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wrap it up.”

“We haven’t even reached my solo era yet.”

Your head snapped toward him in horror. “Hell no.”

Before he could react, you lunged across the sofa, snatched the remote out of his hand, and turned the television off.

The penthouse dropped into sudden silence.

Jungkook stared at the black screen in genuine disbelief.

Then slowly looked back at you.

“…Did you just mute my career?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, getting to your feet. “Because unlike you, some of us have jobs.”

“You are literally here because of my job.”

“I’m here because you apparently collect stalkers like Pokémon cards.”

“That was one time.”

“You had categories.”

“That’s organisation.”

“That’s psychosis.”

You moved to the opposite end of the sofa and dropped down with deliberate distance between you.

Jungkook watched the entire thing unfold with the wounded expression of a man abandoned in war.

“You’re ruining the educational experience.”

“I survived the London public school system. I can survive not watching your concert footage.”

He slumped dramatically into the cushions. “Fine.”

The word came out with the energy of a deeply betrayed 12 year old.

You ignored him and reached into your bag.

“Thank God,” you muttered, pulling out your notebook. “An actual functioning member of society.”

“You wound me, Victoria.”

You looked up sharply. “I swear to God if you call me a Victorian ghost one more time—”

“Relax, Beatrice the Haunted.”

You glared at him so hard it should’ve counted as assault.

Jungkook grinned lazily and immediately shifted closer across the sofa.

You shoved at his shoulder without looking up from your notebook. “Go away.”

“No.”

“You’re in my space.”

“This is my sofa.”

“You’re still in my space.”

“I think you just like talking to me.”

“I think you should go put a shirt on.”

His eyebrows lifted slowly. “Oh?”

“You’re distracting.”

That smile appeared instantly.

Slow. Smug. Dangerous.

“Distracting,” he repeated softly.

“Not in a flattering way.”

“Mhm.”

“You look like you sell cryptocurrency illegally.”

“That’s somehow worse than Steve.”

“Go. Put clothes on. Properly.”

He laughed under his breath before finally pushing himself off the sofa.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I hate when you say things like that.”

“I know.”

He disappeared down the hallway still grinning to himself while you opened your notebook with the exhausted air of someone preparing for battle.

You clicked your pen open.

A minute later, footsteps returned.

You looked up automatically—

—and immediately regretted it.

Because technically, yes, he had listened.

There was now a hoodie on his body.

Unfortunately it was unzipped, black, oversized, and contained absolutely nothing underneath it.

Which somehow felt worse.

Far worse.

Especially paired with the black joggers hanging low on his hips that exposed the Calvin Klein boxers underneath like he’d been specifically engineered to irritate you.

You looked back down at your notebook instantly.

Professionalism.

Dignity.

Eye contact only.

“Interesting,” Jungkook said casually, dropping back onto the sofa beside you.

You refused to look up. “What.”

“You stopped talking mid-sentence.”

“I’m choosing peace.”

“You looked at my chest like it offended you personally.”

“It does.”

“That feels dishonest.”

You clicked your pen aggressively. “Right. Enough nonsense. I need details.”

“You say that like nonsense hasn’t been carrying this entire relationship.”

“This is not a relationship.”

“Aw. We’re fighting already.”

You ignored him completely.

“I need dates, incidents, timelines, names, prior legal action, security reports—”

He held up a hand. “Breathe, Eleanor.”

“That is not my name.”

“I know,” he said pleasantly. “But irritating you is becoming spiritually fulfilling.”

You wrote something down.

He leaned sideways trying to read it.

“Did you just insult me in writing?”

“It’s called documentation.”

“It feels targeted.”

“It is targeted.”

He looked delighted by that.

You clicked your pen again. “First question. How many incidents have there been in the last twelve months?”

He thought for a second. “Depends what counts as an incident.”

You looked up slowly.

“In law,” you said carefully, “we usually define incidents as incidents.”

“Harsh profession.”

“How many?”

He leaned back into the sofa. “Seven serious. Maybe eleven annoying.”

You blinked. “There are tiers?”

“Obviously.”

“No, not obviously.”

“Yes. Serious means trespassing, break-in attempts, vehicle following, staff intimidation.” He counted on his fingers casually. “Annoying is letters, gifts, people crying outside buildings—”

“People cry outside your building?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I really wouldn’t.”

He ignored that. “One woman mailed me a key once.”

Your pen paused. “To what?”

“She said it was spiritually connected to my soul.”

You stared at him flatly.

“What can I say,” he sighed. “The girls love me.”

“That is your takeaway from a potential felony?”

“It was a joke.”

“It was stupid.”

“It was funny.”

You scribbled furiously into the notebook.

Jungkook leaned over again trying to read it.

“Are you insulting me twice now?”

“You’re lucky I’m not charging for emotional damages.”

“You’d miss me if I behaved normally.”

“I’d sleep better.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

You ignored that too.

“Have any of these individuals been identified?”

“Some.”

“Restraining orders?”

“Two granted. One pending.”

You nodded quickly, writing.

“One woman cried in court,” he added thoughtfully, “and said I’d emotionally misled her.”

Your pen stopped.

“…What does that even mean?”

“I smiled at a concert apparently.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

Then shrugged.

“Your life is seriously annoying.”

His smile faded just slightly at that.

“No,” he said quieter this time. “Mostly it’s exhausting.”

The shift in tone caught you off guard enough that you finally looked up properly.

For the first time all evening, he wasn’t joking.

No smirk. No teasing.

Just tired.

Your voice softened before you could stop it. “Okay.”

His eyes flicked toward yours.

You clicked your pen shut gently.

“Then let’s make it less exhausting.”

He looked at you for a second longer after that.

Then nodded once, very seriously.

“I agree,” he said. “I think we should make out.”

You stared at him in complete disbelief. This is what you get for feeling sorry for this idiot.

“…That is not what I just said.”

“Tomato, tomato.”

“That does not apply here.”

You pointed at him firmly. “We are working.”

“Mhm.”

“Seriously.”

“Absolutely.”

“You are being stalked.”

“And yet somehow I’m still focused on you.”

You stared at him flatly. “Do you rehearse these lines in the mirror?”

“No,” he said immediately. “They come naturally because you’re pretty.”

Your expression went blank with irritation.

His grin widened instantly.

“You know,” he continued thoughtfully, “you’d actually be terrifying if you ever flirted on purpose.”

“I do flirt on purpose.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

You opened your mouth.

Paused.

Then frowned.

“That’s irrelevant.”

Jungkook burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you don’t know.”

“I know how to flirt.”

“Mhm.”

“I just choose not to around you.”

“Because you’d fall in love instantly?”

“Because I respect myself.”

“That sounded defensive.”

“That sounded accurate.”

He watched you for another second, eyes flicking briefly to the way you were gripping your pen too tightly.

Then his smile turned softer. More amused than smug now.

“You get flustered really easily for someone who argues this aggressively.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“You’re clicking the pen like you’re preparing to sign divorce papers.”

You immediately stopped clicking it.

Jungkook looked unbearably pleased with himself.

“I hate how observant you are.”

“You stared at my chest for a full ten seconds earlier.”

“I was noticing the hoodie situation.”

“You mean the fact I look incredible in black?”

“I mean the fact you dress like a morally questionable nightclub owner.”

“Yet you keep looking.”

You pointed the pen at him again. “I need you to focus.”

“I am focused.”

“On the stalking.”

“I’m trying,” he said solemnly. “But then you sit there looking all intense and British.”

You made a horrified sound. “You’re actually insane.”

“You keep saying that like it’s stopping you from staring at my mouth.”

“I am not staring at your mouth.”

“You literally just looked at it.”

“I looked generally.”

“You looked specifically.”

“It’s the piercing. It catches the light.”

“Oh, baby,” he said with a grin, “that excuse is getting weaker every time.”

“Do not baby me.”

“You blush every time I do.”

“I flush with rage.”

“Mhm. And if I kissed you right now?”

“I’d sue you.”

“But like… successfully?”

You stared at him flatly. “You think you’re funnier than you are.”

“No, I know exactly how funny I am. You’re the one fighting laughter like it’s a moral issue.”

“It is a moral issue.”

He leaned back into the sofa cushions, entirely too comfortable for someone this committed to being a menace.

“You know what I think?” he asked thoughtfully.

“I’m already exhausted.”

“I think you’d be terrifying to make out with.”

You choked. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it.” He looked genuinely serious now, which somehow made it worse. “You’d probably treat it like cross-examination.”

“That is not how kissing works.”

“For you maybe.” He pointed lazily in your direction. “‘Interesting technique, Jungkook, but let’s revisit your earlier decision-making—’”

“I’m going home.”

“No you’re not.”

“I literally am.”

“You’d miss me in ten minutes.”

“I’d sleep peacefully for the first time in my life.”

“No you wouldn’t,” he said smugly. “You’d lie awake thinking about how good looking I am.”

“I’d lie awake thinking about criminal sentencing.”

“You say that like they’re unrelated.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

Then slowly shook your head. “How are you a real person?”

He smiled. “Good genetics and media training.”

[ggukiebar]

nda | j.jk

pairing: idol jungkook x f. fan reader

genre: smut

word count: 15.6k

summary: what would you do when your bias offers you an NDA?

warnings: verydom!jungkook x shy!submissive reader, explicit sexual content, clit rubbing, pussy eating, blow job, squirting, edging, spitting, dom/sub dynamic, daddy, heavy degradation, dirty talk, multiple positions, detailed smut, jk is very mean, oral sex, mirror sex, slapping, choking, pussy slapping, anal, rimming, nipple play, praising, dumbfication, usage of slut/whore, cum eating, marking, mentions of oc being his toy, multiple orgasms, rough sex, mentions of sex doll, crying, overstimulation, fingering, nipple slapping, penetrative sex, hair pulling, creampie.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.

Your laptop. Your phone. Your tablet.

Your eyes were glossy with hope and adrenaline, your feet thumping uncontrollably beneath your chair, a thin layer of sweat forming despite the air-conditioned room wrapping around you in cold comfort.

This was your first time buying concert tickets. Despite being a long-time fan, this was your only chance—because you had finally gathered enough money to secure one.

You had prepared three Weverse accounts under your name and your parents’ names, carefully reserving each slot so you could slip into the presale the moment it opened. You had already studied how fast tickets sold out in other countries—the quickest being around ten minutes. Ten minutes of chaos, of people like you refreshing, praying, losing.

You bit your lip hard enough to feel it sting. You were still in the queue when the screen suddenly shifted, dragging you into a loading page that refused to move. Thirty minutes had already passed, and all three accounts were still stuck.

“Fuck!”

Your eyes widened when two of your accounts abruptly showed session timeout.

With shaky hands, you tried to navigate through it, but everything lagged—hesitating, freezing, slipping away from your control. You cursed under your breath, glancing at your laptop—the only one still holding on, still alive.

Your vision started to blur at the edges. The chances of getting a ticket were thinning by the second, dissolving right in front of you.

“Please, just this one…” you whispered to yourself, eyes locked on the screen with fragile, breaking hope.

Your eyes widened when the screen finally moved.

No Tickets Available.

Just like that, your hopes were crushed.

You slowly looked up at the posters on your walls, the albums stacked neatly on your shelves, the plushies scattered across your bed, and the ARMY Bomb you had recently bought, displayed beside your BTS McDonald’s figurines.

Tears began falling uncontrollably from your eyes, like a flood breaking through something you could no longer hold together. The realization settled in—heavy, final—that you wouldn’t get to see them.

Your lips quivered as you quickly sank onto your bed, pulling your favorite pink cooky plushie close to your chest. You cried into it, letting everything spill out with an aching, exhausted heart.

Your parents tried to comfort you. They knew how much this meant. They had witnessed your journey growing up—how you stayed up all night waiting for comebacks, how you saved every bit of money just to buy new albums, how you would drop everything the moment a Weverse Live started, how you bought multiple happy meals just to complete all the toys, how you binge-watched their content and replayed Run BTS episodes whenever you had free time.

They had seen it all.

How deeply you adored and loved your bias…

Jungkook.

You appreciated how your parents tried to look for tickets online for you, but the number of scams you’d heard about from resellers made you hesitate. Prices were tripled—far beyond your budget. You didn’t want to burden them, even when they insisted they were willing to cover the extra cost.

You were still a student, after all. You told them it was okay—that they should just save the money for your college instead.

“What if you just check in to the hotel they’re staying at? Girl, imagine!” your best friend Mina suggested.

The hot coffee you ordered had already gone cold. The concert was next month, and Mina was now throwing ridiculous ideas at you on how you could possibly see BTS. The supposed study session in the coffee shop had long been forgotten the moment you mentioned the upcoming concert.

“I doubt it. There’s usually no news about it because of their privacy… sometimes I only find out once they’ve already checked in or when they do a Weverse live.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “I’m sure there’s at least some news if you really dig into it. How many days is the concert?”

“Two days. And even if I wanted to stalk their hotel, I’m sure a lot of fans would do that too—and the next thing you know, the hotel is fully booked.” you pouted.

You were being realistic. The chances of seeing them at their hotel—or even getting a room there—were slim. With the number of fans camping out and others researching nonstop, you had almost zero chance.

“Do you want to see them or not? Come on, I’ll book a room with you!” she nudged your shoulders, wiggling her brows as she sipped her caramel macchiato.

You chuckled softly. “Of course I do, but I swear, Mina, it’s harder than you think…”

Mina groaned, stomping her feet. “Ugh, fine! But watching the concert online is really fucking boring when you know they’re literally in the same country as you.”

You sighed. Mina wasn’t really a fan, but she knew how much you loved BTS. When she found out you hadn’t secured a ticket, she had been the first to suggest the most ridiculous ideas—stalking their hotel, camping outside the arena, chasing anything that even remotely felt possible.

After a few months since the presale, it had been a hard pill to swallow—but you had finally accepted it. You wouldn’t get to see them. Even if Mina’s ideas lingered at the back of your mind, you knew better. The chances were too low. You’d rather stay at home, wear your cooky pajamas, and stream the concert online in peace.

Still… there were the sleepless nights.

The what-ifs that refused to leave you alone.

What if you had attended the concert? What if you had somehow booked the same hotel? What if you caught a glimpse of their van outside the arena?

Being a fan for almost a decade, you knew those kinds of scenarios only happened in fictional stories. Seeing Jungkook on a random day was like finding a bag of cash in a public restroom stall—completely impossible.

Though… still, a small part of you never fully stopped hoping.

“Also, isn’t our country their last stop?” Mina said, already searching for dates and details on her phone.

“Yeah… that’s why I actually had enough money and time… but I guess luck just wasn’t on my side,” you murmured bitterly, glancing around the busy coffee shop as if the noise could somehow quiet the ache settling in your chest.

Mina suddenly froze, her eyes widening. “Wait—since it’s the last stop… don’t you think they’ll stay longer? Maybe for a few more days, like… I don’t know, rest?”

You had already thought about it—but how on earth would you ever know their whereabouts? You’d only find out once they were already there, or when they went live. And since it would be after the concert, you were certain they’d want to rest, to disappear into privacy for a while.

“Mina… it’s okay. I swear, I’ll be fine.” you assured her, her ideas now more amusing than anything else.

Until your lunch break ended, Mina kept babbling—throwing out unrealistic scenarios straight out of books and fanfics. You laughed at her what-ifs, at the corny places her imagination kept taking you.

You knew she wasn’t doing it to be silly.

She was doing it because she knew you. Knew how badly you wanted to see them. Knew how quiet you’d become once the concert actually started.

So, as your best friend, Mina had decided something else entirely.

A short out-of-town trip. While BTS was in the country. A way for you both to disappear for a while, to breathe, to rest from studies, from expectations, from everything—including the concert you couldn’t attend.

“Mina! Why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes widened in shock when you saw the cottage number and the dates.

Mina had booked a five-day beach trip, complete with daily activities that made your head spin just reading them.

“Don’t worry, you can bring your laptop so you can still stream the concert.” she snickered, handing you the itinerary.

“Mina! That’s not what I meant—this is too much,” you groaned.

She giggled, already sitting comfortably on your bed while you scanned through the list she had prepared. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun! Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve had a girls’ trip.”

You pouted at her, still in disbelief—but the resistance didn’t last. A smile slipped through as you pulled her into a hug anyway. “You and your ideas,” you chuckled.

“Bring cute clothes! Let’s take lots of pics—I want to update my IG!” she said excitedly.

You grinned. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow. My treat.”

Mina shrieked. “God, yes! Let’s go!”

The upcoming concert was still on your mind, but you were also busy preparing for the trip with Mina. You were excited—the small distraction keeping you from spiraling into a full breakdown over not being able to see BTS.

Wearing a cute sundress and brown sandals, you and Mina finally checked in. It was Day 1 of the concert. You had already set an alarm for the online stream later, a quiet kind of excitement settling in at the thought that, at the very least, you had the privilege of watching it while sipping fresh coconut by the sea breeze.

“Why the fuck are you reapplying your lip gloss?” Mina asked when she caught you touching up your makeup right before the concert started.

“To look cute while watching Jungkook,” you giggled, turning your ARMY Bomb on.

After dinner, you and Mina sat on a bench by the sand, your pocket Wi-Fi, laptop, and earphones already set up beside you.

Mina rolled her eyes. “That’s crazier than my ideas.”

You chuckled softly, eyes already fixed on the screen as the countdown began. Your heart raced like you were inside the stadium with them—like the distance didn’t exist at all.

When the concert finally started, Mina had to walk away because you were screaming too loudly, jumping from your seat and almost knocking over the coconut shake on the table.

“Girl, let me walk around and find a cute guy. Your shrieks are lowkey scaring me.” Mina laughed when she came back and saw you on the verge of tears, fanning yourself like you might actually pass out.

“Okay, oka—oh my gosh! They’re performing Dimple! Oh my gosh!” you shouted, already lost in it again.

For two days, you were completely gone in it—fangirling nonstop, fully absorbed in every moment. It was only on Day 3, when Mina had planned actual activities, that you finally stepped away from the screen. Until then, you had spent your time watching, rewatching, and reposting edits like the world outside didn’t exist.

“He’s so hot—I can’t believe he wore that gray shirt. It looked so good on him,” you babbled, telling Mina everything about the concert details and the surprise songs they performed.

The two-night concert had ended like a whirlwind, yet you were still floating on cloud nine. While Mina had been busy taking pictures and scouting for cute guys, you had been replaying everything in your head—taking screenshots, saving edits, and reliving every moment in real time like you couldn’t let it go.

Mina was just happy you enjoyed it. She even swore she almost thought you were going to have a heart attack when you shrieked so loudly after Jungkook lifted his shirt and revealed his abs. Your gallery probably had ten copies of that exact moment.

“And! Guess what!” you said, munching on your breakfast as you wiggled your eyebrows at her.

“Hmm… Jungkook showed his dick?”

“Mina!” Your cheeks burned as you nearly choked on the waffles you were eating.

Mina laughed, casually pointing her fork at you. “That would be good though.”

You shook your head quickly, your face still hot. “I mean—would want that—but guess what! He sang the chorus of Still With You in acapella!” you babbled again, as if Mina would fully grasp the weight of it.

For your third day, you and Mina were supposed to ride a yacht. You were already getting dressed when Mina suddenly squealed behind you, hurriedly tying the strap of her sandal.

“He replied! Oh my gosh, he’s treating me to dinner!” Mina said excitedly, quickly glancing at the mirror you were using to fix your hair.

“Huh? Who?”

“This guy I met while you were watching the concert! He wants to see me again!” She showed you her phone.

Your brows furrowed. “He’s inviting you to his cottage later?” you said, reading the message.

Mina’s eyes widened as she looked back at her phone. “Fuck! What should I do?”

“Wait… so you’re not going on the yacht with me?” you concluded.

Mina smiled cheekily, biting her lip. “Well… he’s cute and… hot…”

You raised a brow. “Make sure he’s really hot,” you chuckled, fixing your hair again in front of the mirror—when Mina suddenly squealed and hugged you from behind.

“Promise I’ll make it up to you! You’re the best!” she grinned, already moving back to the bed to grab her bag.

Mina had booked this trip for you, and you wanted her to enjoy it too. Even though she originally planned it as a girls’ trip, you had spent most of it absorbed in the concert. She had always supported your whims without hesitation—and now it was your turn to support hers.

“Why are you bringing that duffel bag?” you asked, amused at the amount of clothes she was packing.

Mina wiggled her brows. “Gotta be prepared, y’know.”

She walked towards the door, fixing her neckline one last time.

You grinned. “Text me when you’re heading back!”

“Yes, ma’am!” she giggled, throwing you a flying kiss before hurrying out.

The sheer amount of clothes Mina brought made it obvious—she probably wouldn’t be back tonight. You sighed softly, glancing down at your short pink floral dress, your hair tied in a half ponytail.

You still had two days left of the trip, but today was the first time it truly settled in. For the past two days, you had been completely immersed in the concert—no time to walk along the shore, no quiet moments to watch the sunset.

Now, it was finally your time to unwind.

Although you were tempted to doom-scroll edits again, you forced yourself up instead, deciding to follow the planned activity for the day and step outside.

-

“Number 9! Calling for all passengers on Yacht 9!”

You hurried over to the line, double-checking the receipt number Mina had reserved for you.

There were only a few people waiting—some couples and a small group of friends. You didn’t really mind being alone. If anything, you needed this time to unwind, to breathe, to exist without noise pressing in on you.

“Ticket, please!” the man in a white uniform said.

You handed it over, offering a polite smile before stepping onto the yacht.

A few groups had already settled in—holding bottles of champagne, chatting softly, taking pictures against the open sea. You made your way towards the main deck, where a small group of friends sat around a table filled with snacks and laughter.

Based on the crowd, you felt relieved it wasn’t too packed—maybe around twenty-thirty people scattered across the space, enough to feel lively but not overwhelming.

Soft music drifted through the air as the yacht moved gently along the waves. The salt of the sea lingered in every breath you took, calming something in you without you even realizing it needed calming.

You wandered towards a long table filled with food, your short dress and hair swaying slightly with the breeze.

There were different kinds of pastries, a large charcuterie board, bottles of wine and champagne catching the light, stacks of beer lined neatly at one end, and a few bags of chips scattered casually beside them.

Mina had definitely booked a nice yacht. You smiled to yourself, genuinely happy that you could finally relax and enjoy this moment—with good food, fresh air, and a quiet kind of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.

You grabbed a bag of potato chips and a bottle of wine, scanning the area for a place to sit until you spotted a vacant lounger on the sun deck.

“Perfect!” you mumbled excitedly when you noticed no one else had claimed that area.

Carefully placing your bag, chips, and wine down, you quickly took a photo to update Mina.

“Let’s sit here!”

You were still busy snapping pictures when a small group—maybe four or five people—settled in beside you.

You weren’t really paying attention at first, but in your peripheral vision, you noticed they had brought an impressive amount of snacks with them.

You opened your chips and leaned back on the sun lounger. When you heard the sharp crack of a beer can opening, curiosity tugged at you, and you glanced over briefly.

It was a group of Korean men, older than you—probably in their mid-30s to 40s. Some wore black shades, already laughing as they settled into their drinks, their voices easy and relaxed.

They must be on vacation. This beach was a tourist spot, after all.

You turned your attention back to your chips, letting the sun warm your skin as you sank into the view. The group beside you wasn’t loud—they mostly talked about the scenery and the food, occasionally breaking into laughter over the activities they had tried earlier.

The world felt slow again, almost suspended in that gentle rhythm of waves and wind.

You were busy sipping your wine when you suddenly felt it—an unmistakable stare.

The group beside you was still laughing, their voices blending into the soft noise of the sea, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking at you.

These men were older, and for a brief moment, unease crept in.

You sneaked a glance over your shoulder and noticed the broad-built man in sunglasses staring straight ahead—past you.

Does he want potato chips or—

With a slight frown, you followed his line of sight properly this time.

He wasn’t looking at you.

He was looking at your bag on the table.

My bag?

When he realized you were looking back at him, he quickly turned away, though the shift in his posture told you he was still thinking. Still aware.

Confused, you glanced down at your bag again.

It was just a simple beige tote bag. Nothing special. Nothing worth staring at.

You shrugged it off. It must’ve been a mistake. Besides, he was wearing sunglasses—maybe he was just spacing out, looking into nothing.

Munching on your chips again, you noticed him typing on his phone, suddenly more focused, as if he had detached himself from the conversation entirely.

You almost laughed to yourself, thinking he might actually be searching something about your bag online.

A strange thought—but harmless.

With a deep, content sigh, you leaned back again, the warmth of the sun and the rhythm of the waves slowly pulling you under.

And somewhere between the breeze and the quiet, you didn’t notice when your eyes finally closed.

By the time you woke up, it was already sunset.

The bottle of wine beside you was empty, and the small group that had been next to you earlier was gone. The sea breeze had turned cooler now—soft and comforting—while the sound of waves blended with the distant chatter of guests still enjoying the evening.

You stretched lightly and sat up.

Some people were still dancing, some chatting, others taking pictures against the fading orange sky. You still had a few hours left before the yacht returned to shore.

Grabbing your leftover chips and the empty bottle of wine, you frowned when something small caught your attention beside your bag.

A paper.

Leaning in slightly, you picked it up—and realized it was a calling card.

Song Hobeom [phone] **** [email protected]

“Who the fuck is this?”

Looking around, you didn’t see the group of Koreans anymore. You assumed the calling card must’ve come from them, especially given the Korean name and number printed on it.

Still… you were confused. Why would he leave his calling card?

Walking slowly along the yacht, you felt a slight dizziness from the wine lingering in your system. You tossed the empty chip bag and bottle aside, your eyes still scanning the space for any sign of the group you had seen earlier. The air had turned colder now, your short dress offering little protection against the breeze brushing against your skin.

Curiosity got the better of you—and maybe the alcohol gave you just enough courage.

You decided to dial the number.

“Yoboseyo?” a deep voice answered.

You swallowed. “Hello? I-Is this Song Hobeom?”

A brief sigh came through the line. “Yes?”

Confusion crept in when he didn’t immediately recognize you as the person from the sun lounger. You hesitated for a moment. Did he really hand out his calling card just like that?

“Uh, I was the one sitting on the sun lounger by the main deck. I think you left your calling card at my table?” you said, biting your lip as nerves slowly settled in.

You had no idea what he wanted—and yet here you were, calling him back.

“Oh, right. Thank you for calling back, ma’am. May I know when you are free? I would like to discuss something with you.” he said in a formal tone.

Huh?

Confusion was written all over your face.

You walked towards the bow of the yacht, trying to escape the soft music and distant chatter, holding the phone closer to your ear.

“Uhm… may I know what for? This is a bit confusing.” You looked around again, but there was still no trace of the group from earlier. They must’ve already left.

“It is a bit confidential, ma’am. But don’t worry, I will give you a short background once we meet.”

You groaned under your breath. “I’m sorry, but can’t you just tell me this over the phone?”

You didn’t want to sound rude, but you didn’t know this man. It was already strange enough that he wanted to meet in person to “discuss something.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we may need to discuss this face-to-face to ensure the call is not being recorded. If you prefer, you may set the time and place.” he said formally.

What the actual fuck.

You rolled your eyes. This was bullshit—it sounded like a scam. Some foreign guy trying to trick people before disappearing back to his country.

“Sorry, but I’m not interested. Thank you.”

You ended the call immediately.

You weren’t stupid enough to meet a stranger like that. You had only been curious, nothing more—but the moment he refused to explain anything over the phone, something in you clicked.

Suspicion.

And you weren’t taking that chance.

You were about to walk back to the main deck when your phone beeped with a new message. You thought it was Mina, but the moment you recognized the country code, you immediately rolled your eyes.

What does he want?

You instantly regret calling his number. Opening the message, you saw that he had sent a file.

“I swear if this has a virus,” you mumbled.

You were about to tap it when another message came in.

Song Hobeom: The file can only be viewed once. Any form of screenshot or screen recording will be detected and notified. Please contact me again if you wish to proceed after reading the contract.

Song Hobeom: Please do not share this file or inform anyone about this matter. This is strictly confidential. Thank you.

Fucking hell?

You snorted softly, finding his messages almost ridiculous. It sounded like a joke—like he genuinely believed you’d get “in trouble” for forwarding whatever this was.

With a small smirk, you already decided you’d tell Mina about it later. You were definitely not falling for some scam. You’d open it, see whatever nonsense it was, and then block him right after.

With a sheepish grin, you tapped the file anyway… your heart giving a small, restless thump as the screen began to load.

What if it’s a jump scare?

Your brows slowly furrowed when the title finally appeared in bold capital letters:

NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT

What?

You quickly scanned the document, reading faster and faster—until your eyes landed on a name that made your heart jolt.

“W-What the actual fuck?!” you gasped in shock. A few people turned to look at you, but you didn’t care. Your attention was completely locked on your phone.

You were starting to hyperventilate. You wanted to close it, to breathe, to think—but it was a view-once file. Your hands trembled as the alcohol from earlier wore off almost instantly, replaced by something sharper.

“This is not real… no freaking way,” you whispered weakly, quickly texting him back with shaking fingers.

No second thoughts—you typed immediately, afraid he might block you or change his mind.

You: I am free tomorrow at around 1 PM. Let’s meet by the coast area near the bar.

Song Hobeom: Noted, ma’am. Thank you for cooperating.

-

You never thought you would find yourself in a situation like this.

You chose a spot with very few people around. It was a nice sunny day, but your face already felt warm—nervous, alert, almost buzzing with anticipation.

Wearing a white floral dress, brown strappy sandals, and sunglasses, you called Mina beforehand and told her you’d be skipping the snorkeling activity for the day. You wanted to tell her the truth, but she didn’t question it when you said you just wanted to swim and relax by the ocean instead.

She told you she wouldn’t be back for tonight, giggling about the cute guy she had met. She kept talking, but your mind was elsewhere the entire time.

Honestly, you were relieved she wouldn’t be back soon. Given the terms written in the file, you needed time alone.

Or this opportunity—whatever it really was—might slip right through your fingers.

“Are you listening to me? You’re like… spacing out, girl!” Mina chuckled.

Your face immediately heated up. “Oh! A-Am I? I was just thinking about buying this merch, and it’s a bit expensive, so I was wondering if I should buy the whole set or just Jungkook’s edition.” you rambled quickly.

Mina laughed, shaking her head. “Just buy it all! Gosh! Anyways, so I went to this island…”

You bit your lip. She believed it.

She continued ranting, and you did your best to follow along, nodding at the right moments, forcing yourself to stay present. You had to hide this—or you’d be screwed.

“Do you want to order, ma’am?”

You looked up at the waiter and nearly froze when, for a split second, you thought it was Song Hobeom standing in front of you.

You were thirty minutes early.

Last night, you hadn’t slept at all—spending hours searching for the man behind the calling card. And what you found had hit you like a truck.

He wasn’t just some random foreign stranger.

He was BTS’s manager.

The weight of the NDA had settled in slowly at first… then all at once.

The same Song Hobeom you had seen on the yacht… was the same man now appearing across articles and videos all over the internet.

“No, thank you. I’ll order later,” you politely declined. You didn’t think you could eat or drink anything at this point.

The waiter nodded and left you alone.

You let out a quiet sigh, glancing at your phone to check the time. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to steady your breathing—slow, controlled. You couldn’t afford to panic right now. Not here. Not yet.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

The familiar deep voice made your eyes snap open.

He was finally here.

He approached in a composed, almost professional manner, as if this were a business meeting rather than something that had your entire morning spiraling. Black shirt, gray board shorts, black shades. Calm, unreadable.

Your gaze narrowed slightly when you noticed the large iPad and brown envelope in his hands.

You immediately stood up, quickly straightening your dress before offering your hand.

“G-Good day, uh… h-have a seat, please.” you gestured, waiting until he sat down before you did.

“Have you eaten, Ms…?” he asked, pausing as if waiting for your full name.

“Oh, it’s Y/N L/N. I a-already had lunch,” you stammered, your heart racing as you finally introduced yourself.

He smiled and nodded. “That’s good to hear. I’m Song Hobeom, the manager of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

He opened the brown envelope and showed you its contents. Like a startled kitten, you carefully took the papers.

“Have you read the file I sent you?” he asked casually, while opening his iPad.

You immediately nodded. “Y-Yes, uh… but I only scanned it quickly.”

It was true—you had replied almost instantly because you were scared he might unsend it or take it back.

He nodded. “Alright. Let me explain this to you thoroughly. Before proceeding, we require a Non-Disclosure Agreement to protect the privacy and safety of our artist. This agreement simply means that any information you may see, hear, or experience during your time with us—such as the artist’s location, conversations, or personal details—must remain confidential and cannot be shared with others, posted online, or discussed publicly,” he said in a formal, business-like tone.

You nodded quickly. “Y-Yes, I didn’t tell anyone!” you replied immediately.

He gave another nod, turning the iPad towards you to display the contract details. Then he began walking you through each section, one by one, in calm, structured explanations.

“Ms. Y/N, the NDA does not take away your rights or force you to do anything. It only ensures mutual privacy,” he stated, and you found yourself listening closely, agreeing more than questioning. The moment you had texted back was already a sign—you had chosen to proceed.

“Once signed, the confidentiality rules will remain in effect for the period stated in the document, and breaking the agreement could result in legal consequences.”

“I understand! I-I have researched how NDAs work as well.”

You bit your lip the moment you said it, suddenly realizing how desperate you sounded. You wanted to ask so many questions—why you, of all people, why this situation had landed in your lap—but you were too focused, too eager to get to the part that mattered most now.

Signing that damn contract.

That was your priority.

“Good. If you have any questions or concerns, I want you to feel comfortable asking before signing—”

“No questions! I’ll s-sign,” you blurted out, cheeks warming as excitement slipped through your tone.

Mr. Song chuckled lightly and nodded before handing you an expensive-looking pen.

“Alright, please double-check the terms and conditions. Take your time, Ms. Y/N.”

But you didn’t.

Not really.

Before you even properly reread the contract, you signed it—like your life depended on it. A shy, almost embarrassed smile formed on your lips as you finished.

He looked amused, like this wasn’t his first time seeing this reaction. As if he was already familiar with how quickly people surrendered to these documents.

Then he handed you the iPad for another copy.

Scrolling quickly, you signed again without hesitation.

Your eyes flickered over your own name—and then, for a brief second, your heart stuttered when you saw the name of the artist involved.

Jeon Jungkook.

Mr. Song explained the terms and conditions again. You listened eagerly, a little calmer now that you had finally secured the contract.

“Thank you for signing, Ms. Y/N. Please remember to keep everything discussed and experienced confidential as agreed,” he said with a polite smile, handing you another calling card. “Mr. Jeon will be the one to contact you directly after this for any further coordination.”

You stared at the calling card—Jungkook’s name and number printed on it—your eyes widening in shock.

This cannot be real.

-

“Ugh! I want to cry!”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, now back in your cottage, pacing in front of it like a maniac.

You had one night. One fucking night with him.

The date stated in the contract was after your vacation ended. You were already stressing about what to tell Mina for extending your stay, what to say to your professors, your parents—because you had clearly told them your trip only lasted until next week.

Jungkook hadn’t contacted you yet. It was still too early. You had no idea if he was even on the island already. The only thing you knew was that you were supposed to meet him in Executive Cottage 3 at 8 PM next week.

You still couldn’t believe it.

You had always thought NDAs were just myths—fantasies spun by fans who imagined idols risking everything for a single private encounter.

Sure, you had heard rumors that things like this might actually happen… but you never thought you would experience it yourself—with your own bias, Jeon Jungkook.

It felt unreal. Worse—or better—than a concert. One-on-one. Up close. No distance at all.

Your cheeks warmed at the memory of the agreement, your heart picking up speed at the thought. It almost scared you how much you didn’t want to wake up in case this was all just a dream.

Sometimes you found yourself lightly slapping your cheek, as if reality still refused to fully sink in.

For months, you had been depressed over missing the ticket, and now—out of nowhere—you had the opportunity, the privilege, to meet your bias in private.

Now it made sense.

It was their last concert. Their managers were staying here to rest… and for what? To arrange potential NDAs?

Last night, after Mina’s call, you had spent hours deep in research—so deep it felt less like curiosity and more like you were preparing a thesis you somehow needed to defend. You searched everything: how NDAs worked, how participants were chosen, what would happen if you told someone, and a dozen other questions that only made your head spin the longer you read.

There was no hesitation anymore.

The moment you confirmed that Song Hobeom was actually their legitimate manager, something in you fully locked in. Any lingering doubt that the contract might be fake—or some elaborate prank—disappeared instantly.

It was real.

And you had already signed it.

Your excitement had gone through the roof.

Even though you wanted to tell Mina so badly, your eagerness to meet Jungkook was far stronger. You couldn’t risk it.

“Huh? Why?” Mina questioned when she returned the next day and you immediately told her about extending your stay.

“I just want to relax more, you know… I didn’t realize the sea was this calming,” you smiled, trying to sound convincing.

You and Mina were now getting ready for the snorkeling activity. After dinner, you had decided you would break the news properly.

“Are you lying to me?” Mina raised a brow.

You went pale. “N-No, I j-just really wanted to sta—”

“You met a cute guy, didn’t you?” Mina accused, squinting at you.

You blinked, caught completely off guard by her conclusion. She knew you weren’t the type to extend a trip like this—especially with school starting next week—unless, of course, it was for BTS.

Or a cute guy.

“W-Well…”

Mina giggled. “Ha! That’s why we’re besties!”

Maybe a little white lie wasn’t so bad.

Mina told you she couldn’t extend her stay anyway since she had a presentation due next week. Even though she wanted to stay longer, you reassured her you’d be fine—and that you just wanted some alone time with your “cute guy.”

Yeah.

Cute guy.

-

The following days felt like a whirlwind. You enjoyed your last activities with Mina, all while quietly trying to keep it together every time the agreement flashed back into your mind and sent your thoughts spiraling.

When the last day came, you practically rushed Mina into the van just to get a proper goodbye out before she left.

Tomorrow was finally the day.

And yet, Jungkook still hadn’t contacted you.

The day before, you had already gone through a medical examination—another requirement of the NDA. You were honestly surprised at how professional it all was, how organized everything felt despite how unreal the situation still seemed in your head.

It was almost ridiculous how seriously you had started taking everything.

You shaved your entire body. Scrubbed yourself religiously every night. Applied lotion more than usual. Even started doing small morning workouts after meals, as if preparation alone could somehow calm your nerves.

“Hi, Jungkookie!” you practiced in front of the mirror, batting your eyelashes.

“Fuck! Why did I do that?” you immediately cringed, shaking your head.

You tried again, this time forcing a different tone.

“So… how was the concert?”

“I’m honored to be chosen.”

“Do I just lay here?”

“I love you. You’re my everything.”

You groaned and covered your face completely.

You had no idea what to expect. The thought of meeting Jungkook was overwhelming in every possible way—like your brain couldn’t decide whether to freeze, panic, or completely shut down.

And honestly, you were starting to worry you might faint… or embarrass yourself beyond recovery the moment it actually happened.

The contract stated “private meeting,” and you weren’t exactly Sherlock, so it wasn’t hard to conclude that it involves fucking. Especially considering they required a medical examination—surely not for a simple chat.

You almost screamed when your phone beeped with a message.

Jungkook: Hi Y/N, see you tomorrow at 8!

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” you jumped onto your bed, staring at the text like it wasn’t real.

His message was so casual, completely different from the formal, business-like tone Song Hobeom used. It almost made it feel even more surreal.

“What should I reply… oh my gosh.”

You bit your lip, carefully choosing your words so you wouldn’t mess anything up.

You: See you, Kookie!

-

The cottage was larger than yours—an executive unit reserved for upper-class guests—with soft ambient lighting, a private veranda, a small plunge pool, a carefully kept garden, a few hammocks swaying gently in the breeze, and direct access to the beach.

This area felt different. Quieter. More secluded. Tucked away from the other cottages scattered across the busy island.

You had expected to be guided by bodyguards, but there was no one. No visible security, no presence at all. It felt intentional—like the meeting was meant to be so private that even protection would disrupt it.

Wearing a lilac wrap dress, white glittery doll shoes, and your hair curled neatly at the ends, you slowly made your way towards the cottage.

Your fingers hesitated before pressing the keycard Mr. Song had given you last week. The soft beep that followed made your nerves spike instantly—a quiet confirmation that you had arrived, and that you were allowed inside.

Once the door opened, you stepped in.

You were immediately met with a spacious bedroom featuring a king-sized bed, a lounge area, a large wooden door that likely led to the bathroom, and wide tinted windows with sliding doors that opened directly to a full view of the sea.

You stood there for a moment, taking it all in with wide eyes.

Carefully, you placed your bag beside the bed and began walking around the space, your curiosity slowly building. On the table, you noticed a selection of pastries and a neatly arranged meal set waiting, untouched.

“Hey.”

You gasped, your eyes snapping towards the bathroom door as the man you only saw on screens stepped out.

Jungkook wore nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp, droplets of water trailing down his neck and collarbones as he ran a smaller towel through his hair.

Your lips parted slightly. Fuck.

He walked toward the coffee table first, casually lifting the silver cloche to check the prepared dinner as if nothing about this moment carried any weight at all.

But for you, everything had just short-circuited.

Jungkook—right there in front of you. Real. Close. Breathing the same air.

You had seen him countless times on screens, in edited clips and fan videos—but none of that had prepared you for this. In person, his presence felt heavier, more grounded. His frame looked broader, more defined. The tattoos you had only ever glimpsed before were now fully visible under the soft lighting, detailed and striking in a way that made your thoughts scatter instantly.

Even his voice—when he spoke—carried a calm, effortless depth that made your mind go blank before it could catch up.

All the lines you had practiced disappeared completely.

You were speechless.

Frozen.

He was real.

You couldn’t believe he was real.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, turning towards you while still holding the cloche.

Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You stood near the couch like you’d been rooted in place, completely caught off guard.

A quiet chuckle left him as he noticed your reaction. He set the lid back down and began walking towards you.

Your breath hitched when he closed the distance. His fresh scent—clean, minty, just out of the shower—wrapped around you, sharpening your senses in an instant.

“Relax,” Jungkook said softly, his tone calm and steady as he gently placed a hand on your arm.

The touch was light. Grounding.

Warmth spread through your skin immediately, like your body had finally registered his presence all at once.

You nodded too quickly, blinking as if that could reset your brain. Your heart was pounding so hard you were convinced it had to be audible.

Jungkook smiled slightly, looking down at you. “Hmm, look at me.” he said when you kept avoiding eye contact.

You tried—but the moment your eyes lifted, you almost froze again.

Dark doe eyes met yours, steady and unreadable, holding you in place. His right hand lifted your chin just as you instinctively tried to look away again.

“Sit down on the couch for me, mhm?” he said gently, guiding you down with an easy, controlled calm.

You were so nervous, looking up at him like a shy deer. All the conversations you had prepared were completely forgotten—you were mentally blocked.

Jungkook tilted his head at you, still standing as he looked down at your form. “You okay, pretty girl?”

Your cheeks turned crimson at the compliment, and you nodded again like you had lost your voice.

Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to get to your eye level. “Talk to me, baby. Wanna hear you.”

“H-Hi,” you said in a small voice, almost choking on the words.

“Hmm, louder.” Jungkook whispered, raising a brow at you.

You gulped harshly, squeezing your own hands in nervousness. “H-Hi, Jungkook. Nice to meet you.” you said, a little clearer this time.

Jungkook smiled, sitting beside you. “There you go. Good job, baby.” he praised. “So polite.”

You smiled back shyly, your breath hitching when he took your hands—hands you hadn’t even realized you were squeezing so tightly.

“Baby, you’ll hurt yourself doing that…” he said gently, holding your hands and lightly tracing over the faint marks you had left on your skin.

“O-Oh, uhm…”

“Do you want to eat first? What do you want to do?” he asked softly, studying your nervous expression.

He was so calm, so composed, so sweet—it made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You bit your lip under his attention, suddenly hyper-aware of every small movement you made.

His gaze briefly dropped to your lips. He swallowed subtly, something shifting in his expression for just a moment before he looked back up at you again.

“W-Whatever y-you want to do…”

Jungkook raised a brow at you, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes…”

Jungkook straightened up, his gaze briefly dropping over your short dress, lingering for a moment before he looked back at the table.

“There’s a bunch of pastries you might want to try. Do you like sweets?” he said softly, opening the glass lids of the desserts in front of you.

You smiled shyly, eyes shifting towards the neatly arranged food. “Yes, I like c-cookies.”

Jungkook smiled, reaching for the tray of cookies with different flavors—chocolate chip, walnut, matcha, red velvet, and more you couldn’t even name at a glance.

You kept your eyes fixed on the cookies, forcing yourself not to look at him, especially with how near he was.

“I’ve tried walnut and matcha,” he said, pointing at a few of them.

You pouted and picked the flavor he suggested. He smiled when you chose the matcha, carefully placing the tray back down on the table.

“Do you want milk?” he asked, pointing at the bottle beside the pastries.

You nodded, taking a small bite while he poured a glass for you.

“Thank you…” you said with a shy smile.

He smiled back and stood up to get dressed while you focused on eating the cookies. When he came back, he was wearing a white shirt and black comfy shorts. He sat beside you and took a cookie for himself as well.

Jungkook was patient, sweet, and gentle with you. He occasionally asked about your hobbies, your likes, your favorite food, and small details that only your parents and Mina usually knew.

With a soft, hesitant voice, you slowly opened up—talking about how you became a BTS fan, how long you had followed them, and how much you liked him.

He listened closely, never interrupting, only asking follow-up questions like he was genuinely interested.

His eyes followed your lips whenever you spoke, then shifted to your eyes whenever you looked away. And every time your voice got smaller, he leaned in slightly, as if trying not to miss a single word—especially when you talked about him.

Neither of you mentioned the NDA.

It felt, strangely, like you were simply there to spend time with him.

You honestly thought he wouldn’t talk much, given how shy you were—but Jungkook was unexpectedly patient, giving you space to settle in and feel comfortable around him.

But then

You were giggling about his travel story with Jimin when you noticed his tattooed hands slowly settling around your waist.

“A-And what did he do?” you asked, a little startled.

Jungkook had been talking about some of their personal trips with the members. You were surprised by how open he was with you—the way he spoke during his Weverse lives was exactly the same in person: charming, funny, and easy to talk to.

You hadn’t expected him to answer your small, silly questions, but he was attentive, responding to everything like you had known each other for years. You felt, strangely, at ease.

He pouted slightly, suddenly distracted by the lace ruffles at the hem of your dress, his fingers lightly brushing and playing with them.

“Used all his perfume to spray it on the huge bug.” he chuckled lowly, his eyes still lowered towards your dress.

You giggled, imagining the chaos. “Did the bug get killed?”

Jungkook slowly looked at you, his eyes a little heavy-lidded, his hands still idly playing with the hem of your dress.

“Hmm, no.” he rasped.

Your eyes widened when he pulled you closer, his left arm circling your waist to steady you. His right tattooed hand lifted both your legs across his lap.

“You smell good.” he murmured closely, fingers now toying with the ribbons of your wrap dress.

You gulped harshly, your hands resting awkwardly on his arm for balance. Up close, he could see the details of your makeup—light glitter dusted across your cheeks and eyelids, pink gloss on your lips, a soft blush deepening from warmth, and lashes curled with a hint of mascara.

He lifted a loose strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear, then let his fingers trail lightly along your cheek.

“You dolled up for me?” he said lightly, tilting his head.

His tone had shifted—less careful now, more playful… almost teasing.

“Y-Yes… do you like it?” you asked shyly. It had taken you hours to finish your makeup, hours to pick a dress and style your hair. You were almost embarrassed when you saw that he looked so fresh and handsome after the shower, while you had taken an eternity to get ready.

Jungkook poked the inside of his cheek. He held your face with one hand, almost squishing both of your cheeks. His touch was gentle, but the way he tilted your head to examine your face made you feel weird.

Made you feel wet.

“I do,” he said lowly. “I like the glitters.”

You smiled, a bit more confident now. “Really?” you said happily, leaning a little closer to him. “Matches my doll shoes right?” You moved your toes up and down.

Jungkook nodded, his lazy eyes staring at you, then down at your dress. His hands traced slow circles on your bare thighs, making you tingly.

“I noticed something though…”

“Hmm, what?” you tilted your head curiously.

He pouted. “Your dress has no glitters, babygirl.” He slightly held the end of your dress, as if examining the texture.

You pouted. “Yeah…” You looked down. “B-But—”

Your thoughts were interrupted when he softly kissed your cheek.

“Hmm…” He slowly held the ribbons of your dress, and with one hand, he untied the knot.

“W-Wait—” you gasped, eyes widening when you saw what he was doing.

“It has no glitters, baby… doesn't match your pretty little shoes and makeup." he said in a mocking tone, removing your dress from your shoulders.

“Jungkook…” you said softly, cheeks growing hot under his gaze.

Licking his lower lip, his gaze dropped to your body.

The soft swell of your breasts was hugged perfectly by the white bra you were wearing, matching the delicate fabric of your panties. The small white ribbon resting between your breasts and the top of your underwear caught his attention—something so simple, yet enough to make his cock tighten.

You looked… soft, so pretty, too cute. Ready to be ruined by him.

His hands slowly moved to the straps of your bra “Oh baby…” he said in a cooing tone. “This doesn’t have glitters as well.” He said it like it was a problem. His fingers hooked onto the straps before pulling them away from your skin—only to let them snap back in place, the sting blooming lightly against you.

You were speechless. The way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, the way he played with you—it made your body heat up, a quiet rush of warmth settling low in your stomach.

Your instinct was to cover yourself, but the way he raised a brow at you made you hesitate, a shiver running through you instead. You blinked slowly, caught between nerves and awareness you couldn’t quite name.

“Jungkook, t-this is embarrassing.” you said in a small voice.

You thought you could be confident—years of reading fanfictions had convinced you of that. You were certain you could fuck him better, that you could show him what you were capable of. Make him feel good. Please him. Make him happy.

You had been so sure of yourself—so full of it, even—thinking you could give him the best night of his life.

But the moment he touched you, your mind went completely blank. All rational thoughts slipped away, leaving you flustered and unsure of yourself, shrinking back into a shy, overwhelmed version of you.

Jungkook chuckled sarcastically. You gasped when he suddenly pulled your hair, his lips reaching under your ear to whisper.

“You signed up for this, didn’t you?” he rasped, his lips grazing your earlobe.

You squealed, his dominance eating you alive. His sweet, teasing tone was gone; the way he pulled your hair closer made you shiver.

“Y-Yes,” you bit your lip. You felt his lips move down your neck, his hot breath tickling you.

“Hmm… do you want me to elaborate on what we’re doing here?” he said in a tone like he was talking to a child. You gasped when he slightly bit your neck.

“Sorry, I was j-just—”

He removed your bra quickly, tossing it somewhere before his fingers grazed near the swell of your breast, teasing you.

“Use your pretty little brain, baby, come on…” he said harshly, suddenly pinching your nipples, making you whimper.

Jungkook raised his head to look at you, his pupils dilated. The way he swallowed harshly when he saw your round breast and pink nipples made him leak.

“Do you know…” he whispered under your ear. “How bad…” He slightly slapped your nipple, soothing it afterward by rolling it gently between his fingers. “I wanted to fuck you?”

“J-Jungkook-”

“Look at you… you’ll let me do whatever I want, right?”

You shut your eyes tightly…followed by a slow nod, stunned by his words and actions.

He raised a brow, eyes dropping to your nipples. Your vision almost slipped when he suddenly spat on them, using his fingers to spread it over your breast.

“Yeah? You’ll let me use you?” he said in a low voice, his hands now trailing down the garters of your underwear. “Like a pretty little, sparkly slut that your are.’’

You knew what he wanted—it had been clear from the very beginning. It had already been hours, and you were still shy and hesitant. You wanted this too, but you were scared to make the first move, scared to say or do something that might turn him off.

He, on the other hand, had been patient from the start—letting you settle in, letting you eat, letting you relax, asking you what you wanted, giving you time without rushing you.

You didn’t realize the way his eyes darkened the moment you entered his room—the way they wandered down the valley of your breasts, the way they roamed over your dress that hugged your curves— showing the swell of your hips, the way his gaze followed the pout of your lips. The way your cute little glitters and doll shoes made you look like a proper little slut for him to use.

It’s been more than a year.

Jungkook had been busy with tour, with the group’s latest comeback. He had been working endlessly—promoting their new songs, filming content for a variety of brands, updating his Instagram and TikTok daily for ARMYs, practicing nonstop to show his best on tour. His schedule had been packed for over a year since their comeback.

Now that the tour had finally come to an end, it was his time to relax and unwind.

Jungkook’s stamina was unreal. Despite his busy schedule, there were times he would ask his manager to arrange private, strictly confidential meetings through NDAs.

Unfortunately, their latest tour had been much bigger, making it harder for his manager to coordinate anything outside of his packed schedule. Because of that, for the past months, Jungkook had been letting all of his sexual frustrations by himself.

It started in 2017. At first, he was the one personally choosing and approving everything himself, but after a few years—once his fame and schedule became even more intense—his manager took over the process. It became less personal and more structured, handled carefully behind the scenes.

With his level of fame, everything had to be treated with strict confidentiality and formal documentation.

For years, all the NDAs Jungkook had been involved with stayed quiet—carefully kept private, out of fear of the consequences, but also lingering with the hope of another night with him.

He was a man, after all. With his busy schedule and global fame, there was no room for commitment or long-term relationships. Everything in his life moved too fast, too publicly, too tightly controlled.

Because of that, he relied on brief, private arrangements—carefully managed and kept out of the public eye—to relieve stress and maintain some sense of personal balance amid his packed schedule.

It was almost like something carefully curated over time. He didn’t have a specific type, but his manager knew him well enough to anticipate what he was comfortable with. Over the years, everything had become more structured—quiet introductions, formal agreements, and strict confidentiality before anything could proceed.

After the tour, Jungkook had been particularly insistent on arranging an NDA soon. The long schedule and constant pressure had built up, and he needed a way to release the pent up sexual frustration.

When the team decided to extend their stay in the country after the final stop, his manager quietly began looking into possible private, strictly confidential arrangements handled under NDAs.

It wasn’t urgent—more of a routine precaution when they had extended time in one location. In most cases, it was beneficial if the person involved was already an ARMY, since familiarity with boundaries and expectations made things easier. Over time, most of the people who signed were fans in one way or another, while others were simply individuals who happened to be in the right place at the right time and agreed to the confidentiality terms.

Jungkook himself rarely interfered with the process. He trusted his manager to handle the details, especially during tours and rare breaks when privacy mattered more than anything else. The goal was simple: rest, recovery, and avoiding unnecessary exposure.

That was why his manager moved discreetly when he saw you—subtly noting your presence, your behavior, and your isolation from the crowd before eventually placing a small calling card on your table.

When Jungkook saw you standing in front of him, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, all his rational thoughts slipped away for a moment. You looked so sweet, ready to be used.

Jungkook was unbearably horny.

He wasn’t the type to extend another night, even with a potential NDA—but he was the type who wouldn’t stop fucking you once you stepped into his space. The kind who fucked hard. The kind who took control and dominated you without hesitation. The kind who would leave marks—bruises that lingered long after the night ended. Whether you were the shy type or the bold type, you would fold once he touches you, once he pulls your hair and manoeuvres your body to his own liking.

He’s mean when he fucks, praising you in a degrading way… though he would always start off sweet, to ease the tension, with his usual kind self and bunny smiles.

But, afterwards?

He would fuck you like a dirty whore, play with you like a little toy, use you like a cum dump.

When he noticed how hesitant and vulnerable you were, he took the lead by making sure you were comfortable at first. But his patience was running thin. Your sweet scent engulfed his senses—your soft voice and small giggles, your shy smile and twinkling eyes—it all made his cock twitch.

It had been months—too long without a proper release. At first, he wanted to take his sweet time with you, but your hesitance and shy demeanor were driving him crazy. Jungkook wanted to bend you over and fuck your unused holes, wanted to wrap his hands around your neck, wanted to fuck your pretty mouth until you were gagging and crying for him, wanted to feel your warm pussy wrapped around him until he could no longer think straight.

He forcefully ripped your underwear, leaving red marks on your thighs. Your body was now fully exposed to him.

“Pretty girl,” he mused, when his gaze dropped at your pussy, you instinctively closed your legs.

He gripped your thighs, forcing them open so he could look at your cunt. “Pretty little pussy.” he whispered, staring at your cunt with a faint shine visible from your wetness. “Acting so shy yet your pussy is soaking.”

“Jungkook, p-please…” you pleaded, slightly moving your legs.

“Aww, a few moments ago you wouldn’t let me see you. Now you’re pleading, hmm?” he cooed.

Your breath hitched when his index finger traced the slit of your cunt, gathering your juices.

“Oh, t-that’s—” you whimpered. 

You were long gone.

He was making you so wet and turned on. Not that you weren’t already—your shyness was already getting the best of you—but the moment he took the lead, whatever composure you had left began to slip away. Your thoughts scattered, your attention narrowing to him alone, your body reacting in a way that made you feel both overwhelmed and helplessly aware of him.

Your eyes widened when he licked the finger that had gathered your wetness, staring at you while his tongue rolled over it.

“Hmm, you taste so good.” his finger, now wet with saliva, went back down your cunt to gather your juices again, bringing it to his mouth to taste it once more.

“Do you taste yourself?” 

“N-No, I haven’t,” you admitted shyly.

He placed his wet finger on your lip. “Open,” he said sharply, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You slowly opened your mouth, his finger immediately sliding in so you could taste yourself. 

“That’s it… twirl your tongue, baby.” You obediently twirled your tongue around his finger, your saliva dripping down his hand messily. His cock twitched at the sight, he pulled his finger from your mouth with a soft pop.

“Get on the bed and spread your legs.” slapping your thigh lightly to urge you up.

You were almost dizzy, his words barely registering in your mind… you stood up, almost stumbling, but Jungkook caught your waist firmly.

“Careful, baby.” he chuckled lowly, your cheeks heating up in response.

Your legs felt weak as you made your way to the bed, Jungkook following behind. When you bent down to remove your doll shoes, he held your arm to stop you.

“Leave them.”

“O-Okay,” your brows furrowed, slowly sitting on the bed with your doll shoes still on.

Jungkook raised a brow at you. “Raise your legs on the bed.”

“But my shoes…” you pouted.

Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to level with your face. “It has glitters, baby. No need to remove it.”

You blinked slowly, the realization settling in as you recalled his earlier comment about your dress and undergarments not having any glitter details.

Raising your feet, you let your doll shoes rest on the mattress. Your legs were folded as you adjusted yourself, your wet cunt fully exposed under his gaze.

Jungkook’s hand moved absently over his shorts as he looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his attention fixed on your wet pussy. “Spread wider, baby. Hold your ankles for me.”

You spread your legs wider, holding your ankles, making yourself open for him. Your juices leaked down onto the mattress, giving him a clear view. Your cheeks and neck turned red from what you were doing for him.

“That’s it, wider.” he groaned, removing his shirt and shorts in one go. Your arms almost gave out when you saw him naked in front of you.

He was so huge—his cock red and veiny, precum leaking from the tip, his hand gripping himself, rolling the foreskin, pumping more wetness onto his mushroom head.

Jungkook moved closer, looking down at your cunt while palming himself shamelessly. “Do you like how I touch my cock?’’

You whimpered when his other hand went down to you, his middle finger sliding into your hole easily. The wet squelching sound filled the room.

“Slut,” he whispered. 

Using your wetness, he spread it around his cock like lubricant, mixing it with his precum. “You’re so wet baby, my good little whore.”

You whined, your arms growing tired from the position. When you tried to let go of your ankles, Jungkook slapped your pussy.

“Keep them open,” he said harshly, squeezing his cock tighter, releasing more precum at the tip. 

“Let me see your pretty holes, yeah?” His cheeks hollowed as he gathered saliva and spat onto your exposed cunt, letting it drip inside your wanting hole.

“Jungkook, p-please… I can’t anymore,” you whined, your body clenching around nothing. You wanted him to touch you.

“Shh, be a good doll and stay still, yeah?” he groaned, spitting down on his cock, spreading it along his shaft as he pumped faster while looking at you.

It was so overwhelming—the way he looked at you while touching himself made you so wet.

“P-Please, t-touch me.” you pleaded, your eyes glossy with need, whining when you felt more of your juices spill onto the bed.

Jungkook groaned, “Be a good fucking slut and watch me touch my cock.”

It was obscenely dirty—watching him touch his cock so fast, his gaze locked on your pussy. Every now and then, he’d gather your slick with his fingers, spreading it along his length, making himself even wetter, even more desperate.

And just when it looked like he was about to cum—he stopped.

His hand tightened around the tip, squeezing just enough to hold himself back, dragging the moment out, edging himself with a restraint that only made it worse.

“Fuck!” he quickly kneeled down in front of you, his face now very close to your pussy. When you looked down, your eyes fluttered when you saw him staring closely at your twitching hole.

“You look so tight,” he groaned, his finger tracing your cunt lightly.

“Koo…” you moaned, already shaking from the contact.

He kissed your inner thigh, occasionally biting the soft skin to leave marks. When you were already getting too whiny, he leaned in closer, his tongue pushing inside you.

“Oh, Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, the feeling of his hot tongue inside your hole making you quiver. He was pushing his tongue so deep, like he wanted to collect all your juices.

“Mhm,” he moaned, the vibration giving soft pulses down your clit. He collected all your juices, sucking them as much as possible, going deeper and deeper just to spit it right back up on your swollen clit.

“Oh my gosh—” you whimpered. He was making you as messy as possible. When he wrapped his lips around your clit to suck, you almost saw stars from the pleasure, the sensation pulsating through your whole body making you roll your eyes back.

“You like that?” he murmured while sucking your clit, his tatted finger going inside your hole, releasing more juices from you.

You nodded almost instantly, holding your ankle tighter. When he nipped harshly on your clit, you almost dropped your legs, shaking from how good his lips and tongue felt. He looked up at you, still sucking your clit while inserting another finger inside you, instantly brushing your sensitive spot.

The way his middle and ring finger brushed your g-spot made your clit pulse. With the pressure of his lips around your clit, you were close to cumming.

“Jungkook, I-I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead baby, wanna eat your cum,” he whispered against your cunt, sucking harder, his fingers moving aggressively inside you.

You were shaking. When you felt your high building, you almost pushed him away, letting go of your ankles to grip his hair.

“Jungkook! S-Stop,” you pleaded weakly. The pleasure was too much, too intense. His pace did not falter, his hand pressing your lower stomach down.

When he removed his fingers, you thought he was done, but he immediately rubbed your clit in circles, spitting down on your hood while holding your wriggling body in place.

You moaned loudly… his fingers, his mouth, his spit—all of it pushed you over the edge. You came so hard you almost fainted. 

He still didn’t stop- you were overstimulated, trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t let you, drawing more release out of you. The pressure of his fingers dragged you into another climax, making you squirt messily around him, splashing his face, his neck, his body.

“S-stop, please Koo…” you cried, shaking uncontrollably as you squirted again. His fingers still didn’t stop. His dark eyes stayed fixed on your swollen pussy, amusement etched across his face.

“Messy girl, good job baby.” he cooed, giving your pussy a light slap to coax out the remaining slick.

Your cheeks were wet with tears, your body weak from orgasm. He leaned down, holding your cheeks gently to make you look at him.

“Poor baby, let me wipe your tears, hmm?”

He leaned down, licking your tears slowly, his hot tongue dragging wetly across your cheeks.

You whimpered, your body barely holding itself together. His lips moved down to your nipple, sucking the hard bud softly, while his other hand caressed your other breast, pinching and rolling your nipples.

His throbbing cock grinds against your spent pussy, his swollen tip smearing messily against your slit, spreading his precum all over your cunt.

“Koo…” you said softly, still tired and hazy from your release.

His mouth moved to your other nipple, his teeth tugging slightly, making you gasp. You were certain you would have bruises—the way he sucked your nipple mirrored how he had sucked your clit, lingering just enough to draw a reaction, coating it in spit before taking it fully into his mouth.

“Baby, can you feel how hard I am for you?” he whispered, his cock grinding slowly against your wet pussy, his tip brushing your clit… making you wetter again. “Do you know how long I wanted to fuck a nice warm pussy?” He grabbed your neck, your lips parting instinctively. He took the chance to spit into your mouth, leaning down to slip his tongue in messily, swallowing your moans and protests. His grip tightened each time you whimpered.

“Been touching my hard cock for months baby,” His movements were slow, deliberate—drawing arousal back into your body. “Need your tight pussy so bad.” The way he rolled his hips against you, the way he silenced you with his tongue so no protests could leave your mouth.

“You wanted this?” he groaned against your lips, releasing your neck only to squeeze your breast harshly.

“Ouch, Koo—”

“Answer me,” he said sharply, tapping your right cheek.

“I w-want this,” you said with glossy eyes, small hands gripping his arm tightly.

He tilted his head at you. “Yeah? You wanted to be fucked like a slut don’t you?” he taunted, sitting up to squeeze his cock, teasing himself by twirling his index finger over his tip. “Are you a slut? hmm?”

You nodded weakly. “Would do anything for y-you.’’ you said shyly.

Jungkook raised a brow, standing up at the edge of the bed. “Come here then, crawl to me.”

It was degrading, the way he treats you like a slut for him to use… yet it makes you wetter, makes you hornier. You crawl towards him like a good whore, looking up at him with pleading, sparkly eyes. Your makeup is ruined, your hair disheveled, your doll shoes still intact, making you look like a ruined sex doll.

“Good girl, now wrap your hands around my cock.” he rasped, holding the base out for you. When your small, shaky hands felt his veiny shaft, you almost came again. It twitched in your grip, hard and flushed red at the tip.

He groaned. “Spit on it, baby. Make it nice and wet for me.”

You spat on his cock, spreading it around the base before moving your hands up and down, rolling the foreskin as you worked him. He moaned loudly, head tipping back, jaw clenched, sweat forming across the expanse of his chest.

“That’s it, what a good little whore.” he praised, caressing your hair.

You tried your best to make him feel good. You raised your other hand, spitting into your palm and spreading it together with his precum.

Jungkook groaned at the sight. Using both of your hands, you made a twisting motion along his length, looking up at him like a good girl.

“I w-want you,” you said with a bit of confidence.

Jungkook cursed under his breath. “Suck my cock.” He slapped your hands away, then pulled your hair, forcing you to take his cock into your mouth. His breath hitched when he felt you gag around him, your nose pressed against his pelvis, your eyes turning watery.

“Take it,” he groaned harshly, guiding your head up and down like you were his personal fleshlight. You tried your best to take him, even though he was so big in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

It was sloppy and nasty. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, tracing the mushroom tip while you hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard. Spit and precum was leaking down your chin, your eyes glossy and red, the way you twirled your tongue to trace the veins of his cock made him groan.

“Hands behind your back,” he panted.

You immediately did what he said, your body fully under his control. When he pushed deeper, your face pressed against his pubic hair. You choked, saliva and precum bubbling at the corners of your mouth, you want to tap his leg, the air in your lungs limited.

“You look so pretty with my cock- fuck! I’m gonna cum.” he grunted, keeping you close until you felt the liquid heat spreading inside your throat. He forced you to swallow, keeping your face snug against his pelvis so not a single drop would spill.

When he released your head, you almost collapsed onto the bed. Your eyes were red, your mouth slightly bruised, and your neck ached from the way he had angled your face. Due to exhaustion, you let him maneuver your body, pushing you down and flipping you over.

“Bend over, baby. I’m not done using you.”

He was still hard, giving his cock a few more pumps before guiding it towards your pussy.

“Open your pussy, baby. Be a useful slut and spread yourself for me.”

With weak hands, you reached back to spread yourself for him, opening your folds. Your wetness leaked down your inner thighs.

“Look at you. You just came, yet your pussy already wants more… dripping all over my sheets like a whore.” he said mockingly.

You whimpered. “P-please, f-fuck me.” You were almost crying, your arms tired and your body aching from the position, but you wanted to please him so badly, wanted him to use you till you could no longer take it anymore.

Jungkook chuckled behind you. You thought he would tease you again, but you gasped when he suddenly pushed his cock inside you. Despite your earlier orgasm, the stretch was still painful, making you scream into the sheets.

“You’re so tight, fuck.” he groaned, looking down at his cock getting swallowed by your tight pussy.

He leaned down, pressing your head down further, his cock pushing deeper and deeper, making you squirm in both pleasure and pain.

“Fucking slut, so tight around daddy.” he whispered, your face buried in the sheets.

You clenched around him, whining against the mattress.

“Oh, you like that?” he taunted, pushing deeper until he reached your g-spot.

You could feel every drag of his cock inside you—his veins, his mushroom tip. The stretch was so good you were close to cumming, clenching around him as he fucked you deeper.

“Stop that, baby, I’m gonna cum.” he almost laughed, pulling your hair up so he could see your face. “Want to fuck you for hours, baby. I’m gonna use your tiny hole till daddy can’t release cum anymore. Do you want that?”

You whimpered, “Yes, d-daddy.”

He groaned harshly; the way you called him made him even hornier. He pulled out and shifted down on his side, pulling your body snug against his chest, your back pressed against him. “Keep your legs up,” he whispered, holding his cock and directing it against your leaking hole.

You didn’t expect to be fucked by Jungkook sideways. He held your waist while driving his hard cock into you, your legs spread wide in the air as his lips nipped harshly at your neck.

“Feels so g-good, daddy.” you moaned, your body bouncing slightly from the force of the way he was fucking you.

Jungkook bit your neck, his hands moving down to rub your clit. “Uhuh, daddy’s gonna fill you with so much cum and you’re gonna hold it like a good girl.’’

You moaned, trying to bite your moans back, but Jungkook slapped your clit harshly. “Moan louder,” he groaned, his balls hitting your ass as he pushes his cock all the way out just to push it harder all the way in.

“J-Jungkook.” you moaned, eyes rolling back.

“Louder.”

“Jungkook!” you moaned louder.

“Good girl,” he chuckled behind you, his fingers coming back down to rub your clit again.

You could feel your cum dripping down your thighs, the loud squelching sound of his cock fucking into your pussy and his deep groans pushing you to the edge. When he gave your clit a good rub, you came all over his cock, your pussy clenching around his girth, releasing so much cum. You held his wrist to stop him, your thighs shaking—you were certain you almost drooled from the deep pulses your cunt was producing.

Jungkook groaned behind you. You gasped weakly when he removed himself inside your twitching pussy, your cum leaking onto the mattress, but he immediately lowered his head to catch your cum, wasting no drop.

“I c-cant, too much!” you cried.

Jungkook held your thighs firmly, slurping all your juices like a starved man. When he raised his head, his chin and nose were wet from your arousal. Using both his index fingers, he opened your hood, exposing your puffy clit. He leaned down to suck it, and you gasped when you felt your cum and his warm saliva spreading.

“Oh daddy,” you moaned, another wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

He looked up at you, his tongue giving kitten licks on your clit. “Are you daddy’s good girl?” he murmured against it, his thumb circling the bud, the dual sensation making you lose your mind. “Do you like how daddy eats your pussy?”

“Yes daddy, it f-feels nice.”

“Nice?” Jungkook chuckled, sucking his thumb before rubbing his spit all over your clit. “Is this nice?” he mocked, looking at your bud as it looked so swollen and pink.

“Describe nice for me,” he growled before standing up, carrying you with him. Your thighs wrapped around his waist as he walked beside the large mirror. Using both of his hands, he held your ass and pushed his cock inside your used hole, using almost no strength to lift your body just to push you up and down around his hard cock.

You could see your reflection in the mirror—the way he used your body to pleasure himself, the way his biceps flexed every time he pushed and pulled you against him. He carried you like a feather, your body like a used, fucked-up sex doll.

“Is this… nice?” he mocked you, his lips parted as he looked at your pleasured face. He could feel your juices dripping down his muscular thighs. He chuckled at you. “Too dumb to answer, baby? Is my cock making you feel so good?”

You squealed, gripping his arms tightly as your body bounced up and down. He was going so fast, his hips snapping against you, pushing up while forcing you down, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

“Gonna cum, baby. Would you hold my cum inside like what I taught you?” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his eyes hazy.

“Y-Yes daddy.” 

Jungkook groaned, his hands gripping your ass hard, enough that it hurt. His cock drilled in so deep that you whimpered when he pulled your body close, forcing you down as he spilled all of his warm cum inside you. He groaned beside your ear, biting your neck through his intense orgasm, balls deep and snug against your ass. Your legs were shaking; you felt so full. You tried to move, but his grip was too strong. You could feel all of his cum filling your pussy, and it was so much that you could feel some of it dripping down your legs.

You thought he was done when he removed his cock inside you. Your legs wobbled as he quickly set you down on the bed, his hands palming your pussy as if to keep his cum inside you. Your eyes almost went out of their sockets when you saw that he was still hard.

“Raise your legs,” he rasped, gripping his cock from the base as he spread the cum that was left on his girth.

When you weakly raised your legs, he could see how much cum was inside your pussy, threatening to spill out.

“Touch yourself, push my cum deeper,” he said with serious eyes while staring at your hole.

Your eyes widened. “J-Jungkook, t-thats-”

‘’Come on baby, daddy’s waiting.” 

You gulped harshly. He was slowly rubbing his swollen cock, teasing the tip while waiting for you to move. Your small hand slowly reached down to your hole, pushing his cum deeper, but some of it spilled onto the bed. You tried your best to push it in further, but your past orgasm was still overstimulating you.

“Like this, d-daddy?’’ you said shyly.

Jungkook groaned, staring at his cum in your tight hole. “Good job baby, can you add another finger for me?” 

You added another finger. It was a lot easier to push his cum deeper, but your pussy was getting sensitive. You were whimpering—the fact that he was just staring at you while rubbing his mushroom tip made you chase another high you didn’t even realize was coming. The pad of your fingers brushing against your g-spot with his cum felt so good, forcing you into another mind-blowing orgasm. The fact that you came just from pushing his cum deeper felt so dirty.

“Oh my gosh, I-fuck..” you were convulsing. You removed your fingers, trying to close your thighs shut, but Jungkook held your legs. He quickly inserted his hard cock, you were still pulsating and the feeling of his cock replacing your fingers extended your orgasm, your wet pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock.

“Fuck you feel so good, Daddy didn’t stretch you enough huh? You’re still fucking tight.” he growled, his hips making a rolling motion as his fingers pinched your nipples harshly.

Your tongue was almost out, your pussy still quivering, your clit so sensitive that even the feeling of his pubic hair brushing against it felt incredibly intense.

“Gonna fuck that tight little pussy till your loose, so that everytime you touch yourself your fingers would be too small for your gaping hole.” he grunted, his hands holding both of your wrists above your head, his other hand gripping your throat. He was fucking you so hard that your body was bouncing up. He crouched down to lick your sweaty neck, then moved down to your underarm, licking your sweat messily. You tried to move your arms, but his hold was firm, licking your other underarm and creating a huge wet mess.

“I-I’m close,” you choked, chasing another orgasm, overwhelmed by how many times you had come—you were certain your pussy would be numb after this.

“Hold it, you slut.” he bit the swell of your breast causing you to scream.

He held your body up, then laid down on the bed while holding your waist, placing you on top of him.

“Ride my cock.”

Desperate for release, you positioned your body in front of him, but Jungkook stopped you.

“On your back, babygirl.” he tapped your thighs.

Your cheeks reddened as you positioned your body with your back facing him. When you sank down, you immediately moaned, your ass against his lower stomach. The stretch felt so good, the veins on his cock filling your spongey walls perfectly.

“That’s it, make daddy proud.” he groaned, holding your waist while you moved up and down on him. Your legs were aching, but you didn’t care. When you felt his right tattooed hand slapping your ass, you almost came.

“You look so pretty.” you heard him whisper, his hand caressing your ass, your brows furrowed when his hand went deeper.  “Lower your body for me.”

Confused and a bit dazed, you lowered your body while still riding him. You shrieked loudly when his fingers played with your exposed rim, circling around the hole. You held his thighs, squeezing them hard when he tried to push his thumb in, the stretch making you shiver.

“Would you let me fuck you here, baby?’’ he whispered, pushing this thumb deeper, your tight walls swallowing him.

You haven’t done that before—you can’t even imagine it. He was the first man who touched you there. You were in so deep that you desperately nodded, clenching around his cock as the thought excited you.

He chuckled, “You’re so dirty baby, gonna let me fill all your holes hmm?”

You nodded again. “Yes, only for you J-Jungkook.”

“Yeah? you love me that much huh? I bet you hump your little cooky plushies thinking it’s my hard cock instead.”

He removed his thumb from your ass just to insert his middle and index finger, causing you to scream at the stretch. "Tell me baby, how many times have you masturbated huh?" Your movements slowed down from the sensation.

“Do you fantasize about me? Fantasize about your bias fucking your slutty holes?’’ he taunted, pushing his fingers deeper, his hips pushing up to meet your thrusts.

It was embarrassing; you didn’t answer, afraid to admit the dirty things you did every time you thought of Jungkook—afraid to admit how dirty you were behind your shy demeanor and innocent looks. You liked him so much, idolized him for years, dreamed about meeting him, dreamed about attending his concert, and in your most hidden fantasies… you dreamed about being his girlfriend, what it feels like to be loved by him, to be fucked by him.

“Hmm, baby? I bet you do,” he chuckled.

He removed his fingers, slapping your ass cheeks, then flipping you down onto the bed. “My dirty little girl, touching her little holes while thinking about her bias.”

You couldn’t maintain eye contact, your fingers fiddling with the sheets when he went down to grind his cock against your pussy, both of his arms beside your head.

“Aww baby, are you shy?” he cooed, pushing his cock inside you, trying to find the angle that hits your spot.

You pouted, your eyes a bit hesitant. He held your cheeks so you would look at him. “Don’t worry… daddy’s here, I’m gonna fuck you so good and make your dreams come true.” 

He spit into your parted mouth, urging you to swallow before fucking mercilessly into your tight hole. He held your thighs, almost folding you in half. Your pussy was so stretched and swollen. He leaned down to whisper moans in your ear, his movements so fast you were impressed by his stamina at this point.

“Cum with me baby,” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his mushroom tip hitting the right spot.

Jungkook forced you into another orgasm. You thought you wouldn’t cum, but your pussy was pulsating so badly, his cock still drilling inside you.

He let out a strained growl, his breathing turning heavier with each passing second. When you felt him cumming, he removed his cock from your pussy… quickly inserting it into your other unused hole.

You screamed loudly, the stretch sudden and painful… you could feel his cock pushing his cum deep inside your ass, the sensation making you shake and cry. When you tried to move, he held your waist tightly, balls snug so he could keep his warm cum inside.

He kissed your cheek, “So good for me, so pretty, so tight.” he whispered.

You thought he was done, but when he kissed you hard, his tongue dominating yours, you realized he wasn’t fully sated yet. He pulled you onto the nearest table, bending you over, your hands gripping it for support.

“Lift your leg here, baby,” he instructed, lifting your other leg so you were exposed to him.

The memories were hazy—you remembered him fucking you on the table while your cheeks burned red from the way he pushed you down. You could see the reflection in the mirror, your doll shoes still intact, the table wet from your drool. After that, he fucked your breasts, urging you to suck the tip like a good little whore.

Every time you thought he was done, he would pull you back again, whispering dirty praises about how you were such a good slut for him. His stamina was so impressive, and you were also impressed that you managed to stay awake the whole time.

Even when he was washing you up, he was very sweet, washing your hair and body, yet his fingers were still trailing down your swollen pussy. You protested, but he told you not to worry, saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna rub the pain away,” while rubbing your pussy in slow circles, causing you to release another orgasm in the shower.

Before you drifted off to sleep, you felt him spreading your legs, whispering. “Last one pretty girl, let me leave you a present when you wake up, yeah? All nice and wet in the morning.” 

It felt almost unreal—like something pulled from a dream you weren’t fully ready to believe had happened.

When you woke up, Jungkook was no longer there.

Your body felt heavy, drained in a way that made even small movements difficult. You shifted under the covers, blinking slowly as reality started to settle in piece by piece.

The room was quiet. Still.

When you sat up, your gaze fell to your doll shoes placed neatly nearby. 

You stared at them for a long moment, your chest tightening in a way you couldn’t quite explain. A quiet reminder that last night had not been a dream.

You weakly stood up, wearing a comfy oversized shirt you were certain was his. Walking over to the table, you noticed a set of breakfast meals laid out—eggs, waffles, bacon, fruits, and a pitcher of orange juice.

Still a bit dazed, you sat down on the couch and stared at the food in front of you, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. Last night still felt distant, almost unreal—like something your brain hadn’t fully accepted yet. But every time you shifted slightly and felt the marks on your skin, the memory returned sharply.

It was real.

You knew the rules. You would never see him again, you would never contact him again, and anything that happened that night would stay with you—carried quietly, taken to your grave.

Your eyes grew teary, not because you regretted it, but because some part of you wished it didn’t end so quickly.

Wished it lasted longer.

You knew better—that you and him were not in a fairytale. You wouldn’t be the special girl who eventually ends up with him. You weren’t inside some ridiculous fanfiction where he would text you afterward, telling you he missed you, that he wanted to see you again, that he might even love you. Pure fiction.

Looking at the food in front of you, your eyes caught a small folded paper tucked beside the plate.

When you opened it, you had expected something sweet—maybe a cute note, maybe his number. You already knew the number he used wasn’t personal anyway, just an exclusive one-night line tied to the NDA.

“Dollshoes.”

It was written quickly, but you recognized his handwriting immediately.

You looked around and spotted a paper bag beside the bed. You stood up at once, walking towards it, your hands already shaking before you even reached it.

Carefully, you opened it.

Inside was a pair of glittery doll shoes.

You searched for a note, but there was none.

You pouted slightly, your heart still skipping at the small gesture. It wasn’t much—but it was something. At least he had left something for you.

It had been months since that night, but you would never forget it.

You told no one—not Mina, not anyone, not even in passing. You were almost afraid that speaking it out loud would make it less real… or worse, make you forget it entirely, reducing it to something that only felt like a dream.

Over the months, something else slowly clicked into place.

While reviewing your notes one day, your eyes drifted absentmindedly to your tote bag. Only then did you notice the small cooky keychain attached to it.

It had to have been what his manager saw.

A quiet sense of relief settled in you then—knowing that despite changing bags since that day, you had never taken it off.

You also tried to think harder—why did he give you a pair of doll shoes? Does he do that with all his hookups? Does he give them a farewell gift too after sleeping with them?

The thought left a strange mix in your chest. A little sadness. A little jealousy you couldn’t quite justify.

And yet, the doll shoes still felt like a strong reminder that you were once his—like he gave you something so you wouldn’t forget him.

Sometimes you would even wonder if everything that happened was only your imagination. His manager’s contact number, Jungkook’s number—gone from your phone. The NDA had included a strict no-contact clause, and everything tied to that night had disappeared with it.

Afterward, you didn’t see them anymore, and you had no idea whether they had even stayed in the country or left immediately.

The moment the marks on your body began to fade, you almost cried—like something of him was slowly slipping away from you too.

Wearing the doll shoes he gave you, you sat in a nice outdoor coffee shop with your laptop and a hot latte.

It had been almost a year.

Despite the beautiful view around you, your attention was fixed on your screen. You were writing a paper—your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment longer than necessary, like they understood something you didn’t want to admit.

You had been careful. Writing the details with precaution.

You changed the places, the countries, the names. You rewrote reality until it no longer belonged to anyone but you. Until it couldn’t be traced back—not to him, not to that night, not to the NDA that should have never felt real in the first place.

You even made sure to hide it in plain sight.

Just another fanfiction.

Just another story.

Just enough to protect yourself.

Just enough to protect him.

Your foot tapped lightly beneath the table, uneven, restless. A habit you picked up a year ago. A habit you never lost.

And then you wrote it—the memory still too fresh to feel like a memory at all.

“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.

And for a brief second—you wondered if anyone would believe it was just fiction.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

© 2026 ggukiebar, all rights reserved

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[gguksprincess]

𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝜗𝜚 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

SUMMARY -> in which your bias falls for you.

WORDS -> 6.7k

WARNINGS -> idol!jungkook x fan!reader, power imbalance (?), fingering, semi public sex, degradation if you squint, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, please lmk if i missed anything because this is long😭

now playing: lady in my life - michael jackson˚.⋆♪

you didn’t know how you were able to meet jeon jungkook.

was fate playing an elaborate joke on you? was it meant to be? that was what you were wondering the moment you saw him.

you had been a bts fan for years. your friends and family rolled their eyes every time you rambled on and on about song meanings, interviews, and just how amazing your bias, jungkook was. how his voice was so beautiful, how infectious his laugh was, how you could get lost in his eyes even through a screen. 

though you struggled to admit it, jungkook helped cure your chronic loneliness. it was almost pathetic—weverse lives were warped by your mind into one on one conversations, your lovesick eyes gazing into the screen as you ate dinner, pretending he only had eyes for you.

two nights before you met him, you saw him at bts’ concert in your city. it was fun, the most fun you’d had in a long time. you were in the front, something you ridiculous amounts of money for. it was harmless, low stakes entertainment.

one night before you met him, you were laying in your bed, face mask on, humming the song normal as you tried to forget how perfect he looked under those stage lights.

the night you met him, you were at a club. the harsh, skunk-esque scent of marijuana filled your nostrils and bass-heavy music filled your ears. your friends were distracted, gossiping as you stared at him wordlessly.

that couldn’t be him, you thought. he had to have moved on to another city. he couldn’t still be here. he couldn’t be in the same room as you. this handsome, brunette boy in this club couldn’t be your bias.

but his piercings were too identical to jungkook’s. this man was dressed just like jungkook, and when his right hand reached up to scratch his face—

holy shit. it was him. 

you could recognize those tattoos from anywhere. the ARMY, the heart, the various colorful tattoos that you recognized one by one as your eyes trailed up his arm. your mouth went dry.

you had to sit down in your friends’ booth before your knees buckled. this can’t be happening. this can not be happening. you immediately felt self conscious about everything. you didn’t spend enough time on your hair. your dress was so boring. did your makeup melt off? you really hoped it didn’t. you frantically reapplied your lip gloss just in case.

your friend tapped you on the shoulder, “are you okay?”

you tried your best to sound natural, “of course, why?”

“you look like you just saw a ghost,” she giggled.

“i’m fine,” you insisted.

she turned back to the rest of your friend group.

you glanced at jungkook again. he was with some friends, ordering at the bar. he yawned. 

you looked away, staring at the wall as you yawned. you swallowed, really hoping he didn’t see that. your fingers fumbled with the hem of your dress.

you couldn’t do this. you needed a walk. “i’m gonna go… get some air,” you blurted to your friends, your voice cracking on the last syllable.

“want me to go with you?” a friend asked.

“no,” you said too fast as you got up and practically ran to the exit.

as you turned to get up, you made direct eye contact with jungkook.

he was staring. not in your direction, not at your booth. at you.

this can’t be happening.

your eyes widened. you scurried towards the door, the number of people around you getting smaller and the music getting fainter the closer you got.

you felt a big hand grab your arm. you almost gasped when you turned to him.

jungkook. 

you froze like a deer in headlights, “hello?”

he looked more handsome in person, his silver lip piercings slightly reflecting the dim light. his eyes glistened so perfectly your heart ached. he was everything you thought he’d be and more.

he broke the silence, “you were staring at me.”

“no.” you lied, turning to leave.

“you yawned right after me,” he grabbed your arm again.

“i was tired,” you muttered, “who are you?”

you didn’t know why you asked that. you definitely knew who he was.

his eyes narrowed, “you don’t know who i am?”

you forced a scoff, “should i?”

he shrugged, “you stared at me like you did.”

you tried to step to the side to pass him. he mirrored you.

“i said i was tired,” you muttered.

“and i said you were staring at me.”

you huffed, looking up at him.

big mistake. he was close. your heart pounded.

his skin looked so perfect. don’t stare don’t stare don’t stare—

“what do you want?” you tried to use a demanding tone, but your voice was too shaky.

he looked at you up and down, “still trying to figure that out.”

you bit your lip. he stepped closer. you backed into a wall. big mistake.

“you know, most people just come up and say hi.”

your heart dropped.

“i-i’m not most people,” you softly shot back.

his expression shifted to something softer, more intrigued.

“you just looked…” you started.

breathtaking. divine. amazing. 

“weird,” you finished.

“weird?” he echoed.

“yep.”

he stepped closer into your space. you could smell his cologne. 

he had a smug glint in his eyes, “you’re nervous.”

your eyebrows furrowed, “i’m not.”

he chuckled, “you are such a bad liar, you know that?”

his eyes shifted down to your lips. your breath hitched. he brushed his thumb against the corner of your mouth, “your lip gloss smudged.”

you didn’t speak. you couldn’t.

“you say you’re not nervous,” his fingers slid from your lip to your wrist, “but why are you shaking?”

you hadn’t noticed until he said it.

“i…” you trailed off.

he grinned, and it was probably the most beautiful thing you’d seen in your life.

your breath stuttered. stupid, traitorous warmth spread through you.

“you’re weird.”

“you grabbed me first,” you grumbled.

“yeah,” his eyes flicked to your lips again, “i did.”

and then he kissed you. no warning, no buildup, he just kissed you.

none of this felt real. you wondered when you would wake up in your bed, realizing you had the best dream of your life.

you kissed him back harder than you thought you would, hands finding his face and pulling him closer. he obliged, deepening the kiss.

when he pulled back for air, he didn’t go far. his forehead almost touched yours.

“you always kiss strangers like that?” he asked.

your brain stalled. you almost laughed. if only he knew.

“do you always grab girls in clubs like that?” you muttered.

his grin didn’t falter. if anything, it softened, eyes flicking over your face like he was trying to memorize it.

“only the ones who stare at me like that.”

your heart fluttered stupidly at that.

his hands were still on your waist. he hadn’t moved them. you hadn’t asked him to. the music thumped faintly through the walls, but out here it felt quiet. too quiet. like the world had narrowed down to just this. his hands, his breath, the way he was looking at you like you were something worth figuring out.

you swallowed, your gaze dropping to his lips again. big mistake. his thumbs stilled against your waist.

“…you’re doing it again,” he murmured.

heat flooded your face. you looked away quickly, shaking your head.

“i’m not…”

“you are,” he said softly, like he wasn’t even teasing anymore.

your chest felt tight. this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. you weren’t supposed to be here, pressed against a wall, being looked at like this by someone you had spent years—

“what’re you thinking about?”

“you’re just—” you cut yourself off.

he tilted his head slightly. “just what?”

perfect. beautiful. everything.

“annoying,” you finished weakly.

he huffed out a quiet laugh, but his eyes didn’t leave your face.

“yeah,” he murmured, unconvinced. “that’s not it.”

you didn’t respond.

you couldn’t.

because the longer he looked at you like that, the harder it was to remember how to act normal. how to pretend you didn’t know the way his voice sounded at three in the morning, soft through a screen. how to pretend this wasn’t something you had imagined a hundred times before.

his hand shifted slightly, sliding a little higher on your waist. not enough to be inappropriate, just enough to make your breath catch.

“you don’t act like you know me,” he said quietly.

your stomach dropped.

“because i don’t,” you whispered.

another lie.

he studied you for a long moment, eyes searching your face like he was trying to catch you in it.

“…right,” he said finally, but he didn’t sound convinced.

your heart pounded. say something. anything.

“why did you follow me?” you asked instead.

his lips curved, just a little.

“you ran away.”

you blinked. “i didn’t run.”

“you did,” he said easily. “and you looked like you were about to pass out.”

you felt your face heat up again. “i was fine.”

“mhm.”

he didn’t believe you. of course he didn’t. you let out a small breath, your shoulders relaxed just a little despite yourself.

“i just needed air.”

“so did i,” he said.

you frowned slightly. “you seemed fine.”

“yeah,” he said, eyes flicking down to your lips again, “but then i saw you leave.”

your heart skipped.

oh.

oh.

you didn’t know what to do with that. the silence stretched again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was… heavy. warm. like something was building between you and neither of you wanted to be the one to break it.

his fingers flexed slightly against your waist.

“what’s your name?” he asked.

your breath caught. this was it. this was where it became real. this was where you ruined everything. you hesitated.

his brows pulled together just a little, like that wasn’t the reaction he expected “what?” he said softly.

“i just…” you trailed off, your voice small. “i don’t think i should.”

he blinked, surprised.

“why not?”

because if you told him, this would end.

because if you told him, he might realize.

because this—whatever this was—felt too good to be real, and you didn’t want it to stop.

you shook your head, looking down.

“i just don’t want this to be weird.”

he watched you carefully, something shifting in his expression again. softer. more serious.

“it’s already weird,” he said quietly.

you let out a small, breathy laugh.

“yeah,” you admitted.

his thumb brushed lightly against your side, absentminded.

“then don’t tell me,” he said after a moment. “my name is jungkook.”

you looked up at him, surprised.

he held your gaze for a moment before one of his hands left your waist, reaching into his pocket.

your heart stuttered at the loss of contact.

he pulled out his phone, unlocking it quickly before taking your hand—gentler this time—and placing it in yours.

your fingers trembled slightly.

“put your number in,” he said.

you stared at the screen like it might disappear.

this wasn’t real. this couldn’t be real.

“…why?” you asked softly.

his lips twitched, like he found the question funny.

“because i want to see you again.”

your chest tightened.

you glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint that he didn’t mean it.

there wasn’t one. he looked… sure. like this was the easiest decision he’d made all night.

“unless,” he added, quieter now, “you’re gonna pretend you don’t want that either.”

your heart melted completely. you looked back down at his phone, your vision blurring slightly as you typed your number in with shaky fingers.

you handed his phone back to him. your fingers brushed. you almost forgot how to breathe. he glanced at the screen, saving it, then looked back at you.

“mystery girl,” he read under your contact, a small smile tugging at his lips.

you huffed out a soft laugh. “you’re annoying.”

“yeah,” he said, stepping just a little closer again, like he couldn’t help himself, “you said that.”

your heart was beating so fast it hurt.

“i meant it.”

“sure you did.”

his gaze dropped to your lips again. slower this time. more deliberate. your breath hitched.

“i’ll text you,” he murmured.

you nodded, barely. “okay.”

neither of you moved. not really. just stood there, too close, like neither of you wanted to be the first to step away.

his hand lingered at your waist for a second longer before he finally let it fall. the absence felt immediate. cold.

he took a small step back, but his eyes stayed on you.

“don’t run off again,” he said.

you swallowed.

“…i won’t.”

his smile came back, softer this time.

“good.”

and then he turned, walking back toward the door—

before glancing over his shoulder one last time like he wanted to make sure you were still there. exactly where he left you.

・・・・・

jungkook had never dated anyone like you before.

you were strange, a little evasive, but when he finally got you to open up, you were nothing like he expected.

he didn’t think about you in a normal way anymore. that was the problem. it had started as curiosity. this girl in a club who looked at him like she recognized him but refused to admit it. now it had turned into something quieter, more constant. like a habit he couldn’t drop.

you.

you, who still wouldn’t call him first sometimes but always answered immediately when he texted.

you, who pretended not to know things about him and then accidentally hummed songs from his older albums when you thought he wasn’t listening.

you, who acted shy with him like you weren’t always the one trying to get closer to him.

jungkook laid on his hotel bed, phone in hand, staring at your name.

you: are you awake?

it was almost 2 am in your time zone. why were you up? he smiled before he even realized it.

jungkook: what’s up?

there was a pause.

you: i can’t sleep

he exhaled through his nose, turning onto his side.

jungkook: come here then

another pause. longer this time. he could practically feel you thinking through the screen.

you: i’m literally across the country

jungkook: i know

jungkook: still want you here. haven’t seen you face to face in weeks

the typing bubble appeared immediately.

disappeared. appeared again.

he pictured your face exactly in that moment. how your lips would press together when you were trying not to overthink something.

you: that’s not fair

he laughed softly to himself.

jungkook: it’s very fair

jungkook: you started this. want a red eye or do you want your beauty sleep?

another pause.

you: i hate you

he smiled wider.

jungkook: no you don’t

he was right, and you both knew it.

when he flew you out for the first time, you were nervous when you saw him at the airport. you just stood there for a second too long, staring at him like you were trying to confirm he was real. 

then you walked straight into him. no hesitation, arms around his neck, face buried against his shoulder like you belonged there.

“hi,” you mumbled.

jungkook laughed into your hair, tightening his hold around your waist.

“hi,” he said back, softer.

you smelled like your perfume and airport air and something distinctly you that he couldn’t describe. you pulled back just enough to look at him.

“you look tired,” you said immediately, voice slightly raspy.

“i just flew twelve hours,” he said.

you nodded seriously. “that’ll do it.”

then you reached up and fixed his hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook froze for half a second. then he leaned into your touch without thinking.

that was the first time he realized it.

you didn’t treat him like jungkook. you treated him like him.

the days blurred after that. you stayed in the city while he was on tour, slipping into his schedule like you had always been part of it.

you didn’t ask for much. you just showed up. you sat in dressing rooms while he got ready, legs curled under you, quietly scrolling on your laptop while he talked around you. sometimes you’d look up and just… watch him.

not in that overwhelming way from the club. in a soft way. like you were learning him.

“what?” he’d ask once, catching you.

you’d blink. “nothing.”

“you’re staring again.”

you’d shrug, unbothered. “you’re interesting.”

that had made him pause.

no one had ever called him that.

not like that.

after shows, you were always waiting.

not backstage screaming. just there. hoodie oversized, hair slightly messy, holding something small for him—water, food, a dumb little snack you found nearby.

he started looking for you in crowds without meaning to. and every time he found you, your face would soften like you forgot everything else existed. that expression did something to him.

every time.

you were strange in a way he didn’t know how to categorize. you didn’t fawn over him. you didn’t ask for pictures. you didn’t even really talk about what he did unless he brought it up.

instead, you talked about random things.

the way clouds looked different in each city. how you thought certain songs felt like specific temperatures. he didn’t always understand you. but he always wanted to.

one night, after a show, you were sitting on his hotel bed while he stood by the window, half-dressed.

you were talking about something ridiculous again. he wasn’t really listening to the words. just you. your hands moved when you spoke. your voice softened when you got sleepy. your eyes kept drifting to him like it was instinct.

“you’re doing it again,” you said suddenly.

he looked over. “doing what?”

you pointed at him. “that thing where you look at me like i’m gonna disappear.”

“i don’t—”

“you do.”

you both paused.

“why?”

he walked over slowly and sat beside you.

the mattress dipped under his weight. he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked at you properly. 

you blushed, breaking eye contact.

“you’re different,” he said finally.

you hummed. “that’s not an answer,” you mumbled.

he smiled a little, “it is for me.”

you shifted closer without thinking, like it was muscle memory now. “good different?” you asked.

his gaze dropped to your lips for a second before coming back up. “yeah,” he said softly. “good different.”

you nodded like that was enough. then you leaned your head against his shoulder. and jungkook thought, absurdly, quietly that he could get used to this.

you, like this. you, next to him. you, staying.

and for the first time in a long time, jungkook wasn’t thinking about what came next. he was just thinking about you not leaving.

he was falling, deeper and deeper as the months of the tour passed.

when the it was over, he didn’t even hesitate to fly back with you to your city.

it was bliss. going out on dates, tipsily stumbling into his airbnb, making out on the couch. he felt himself falling for you every time he looked into your pretty eyes. he didn’t want to push you, but he really wanted to come over to your place.

tonight, you two were out at a lounge together, a place you told him was your favorite. you wore the cutest pink top with a skirt that had his head spinning.

you had requested a private room, knowing he’d probably want privacy. 

the hostess closed the door behind you, the noise of the lounge softening into a distant hum.

it was quieter in here with just the two of you. you slipped your shoes off the moment you stepped inside, tucking them neatly by the couch before settling down like you’d been here a hundred times before.

“i like this one,” you murmured, running your fingers over the soft fabric of the seat.

jungkook watched you for a second before taking off his shoes and sitting across from you.

“…you come here a lot?” he asked.

you shook your head, smiling a little.

“not really,” you admitted, glancing up at him. “but i thought you’d like it.”

something in his chest shifted at that.

you didn’t say it like you were trying to impress him. you said it like it mattered to you.

you didn’t stay across from him. you never did. after a moment, you shifted, moving beside him instead, your thigh brushing his as you settled in. closer than necessary. jungkook exhaled softly through his nose.

“…couldn’t see me from over there?” he murmured.

you shook your head, blushing softly. “i just like being closer,” you said, quieter now. your shoulder leaned into his. you didn’t move.

your hand found his sleeve again, fingers tracing lightly over the fabric before slipping lower, slower this time, until your fingers brushed his.

hesitated.

then laced with his.

jungkook stilled. your thumb moved over his knuckles, slow, absentminded, but it didn’t feel absentminded to him. nothing about you did.

you leaned in slightly, your chin brushing his shoulder as you looked out at the room, but your body stayed angled toward him.

toward him.

always toward him.

“it’s nice in here,” you whispered. your breath ghosted against his neck.

jungkook swallowed. “yeah,” he said, lower now. “it is.”

that was when you planted a soft kiss onto his neck. then his jaw. then his cheek.  he turned to face you, and you captured his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. you pulled back, giggling like you were proud of yourself.

“what’d i do to deserve that?” he teased.

“nothing,” you replied, “just felt like it.”

he didn’t know if it was the drinks or the room, but something about you felt warmer. softer. his hand slid from your hand to your thigh. the skin was smooth.

slowly, as you rambled and you two drank, he drifted his fingers higher and higher up your thigh. you let him do it.

he paused when the back of his hand brushed against your panties. they were soaked through. your eyes widened.

“you’re excited.”

your eyes widened. you buried your face in your hands.

“ah-ah,” he tutted. “let me see you.”

he brought your hands down, your wide, glossy eyes staring up at him. 

“that’s my girl.”

your breath hitched. he felt you get wetter.  his pants were suddenly tight. he slightly pressed his fingers against your clit through the fabric. you let out a high pant.

“so sensitive,” he teased as he lazily pressed harder.

you squirmed under his touch, your hips shifting in a desperate attempt for more friction. a soft whimper escaped your lips as he continued to tease you through the fabric.

"look at you," jungkook murmured, his voice low and husky. "so needy already. i've barely touched you."

his fingers traced the outline of your panties, deliberately avoiding where you wanted him most. your breath hitched when he finally hooked a finger under the fabric, pulling it aside to reveal your glistening folds.

"all this for me?" he chuckled, his eyes darkening with desire. "you really are something else."

without warning, he slid a finger inside you, and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. your walls clenched around him immediately, drawing him deeper.

"so tight," he groaned, adding another finger. "and so fucking wet. you've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

you could only nod, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to move his fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. his thumb found your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you see stars.

"open your eyes," he commanded, his voice firm but not harsh. "i want to see you."

you struggled to obey, your heavy lids fighting to stay open as waves of pleasure washed over you. when you finally managed to focus on him, you were met with a smug, confident smirk that made your stomach flutter.

"that's it," he praised, curling his fingers just right. "taking my fingers so well."

your response was a broken moan as he increased his pace, his thumb working faster against your sensitive nub. the coil in your stomach tightened rapidly, threatening to snap at any moment.

"not yet," he warned, sensing how close you were. "i want to hear you beg first."

"please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "jungkook, please..."

"please what?" he teased, slowing his movements almost to a stop. "use your words, baby."

"please let me come," you begged, tears of frustration and pleasure welling in your eyes. "i need it so badly..."

he considered you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, without warning, he plunged his fingers back inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again as his thumb pressed firmly against your clit.

"come for me then," he commanded. "all over my fingers."

the permission was all you needed. your back arched off the couch as your orgasm crashed over you, intense and overwhelming. you cried out his name as waves of pleasure pulsed through your body, your walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers. you came hard, soaking them.

“aw, baby,” he teased, slipping his fingers out, “made a mess all in your panties, didn’t you?”

he kissed your forehead, “don’t worry. we’ll have you all cleaned up when we get home.”

you didn’t look disheveled, but there was a distinct haze in your eyes that wasn’t there before. you put your head on his shoulder, your hair brushing against his neck.

when the server came back, he paid the bill without even giving you a chance to suggest splitting, you murmuring a soft “thank you,” planting a kiss onto his cheek, something he was beginning to crave.

the ride to your house was short. 

you both were slightly tipsy, but jungkook was coherent enough to drive, one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh.

your apartment was humble and simply decorated. you didn’t give him much time to look at it before you kissed him.

when you walked him to your room, he wasn’t paying attention, more focused on you and deepening this kiss.

the room had posters scattered all over the walls, typical for a young person. 

until he noticed one specific one. 

it was a bts poster. not just any old picture, he knew exactly when the picture was taken. he was twenty-four, and the group was about to go on hiatus. he was mid laugh, and he remembered namjoon making some joke that cracked him up. namjoon was always funny to him.

his lips lost all rhythm.

you weren’t some girl who didn’t know who he was. you were a fan.

his mind raced. did you plan this? was he stupid? the signs were right there.

his heart dropped. 

you never wanted him, you wanted the idea of him. the idea of being with a pop star. jungkook swallowed.

how could he not see it? the way you stared at him in that club. your evasiveness. your nervousness.

he pulled back, your shirt slipping off your shoulder. you responded with a confused look. he just kept staring at the poster. 

“jungkook, what—“ you cut yourself off when you saw what he was looking at. your smile dropped.

he looked down at you, and he saw horror behind your wide eyes.

“how long?” 

“i…” you trailed off. you looked away from him in an attempt on retain composure, “i was going to tell you, b-but i got scared and…”

you kept going, but he stopped listening. he should be terrified. angry that you didn’t say what you were. storm out of your room and block you.

but your room smelled like cocoa and vanilla. 

your eyes became glossy with unshed tears.

and he knew he was in too deep to stay upset.

“…i want you to know that i never cared about the money or the fame, i just wanted—“

he interrupted your trembling words with a kiss. not a normal one—one that said i don’t care. i want you. 

your taste was addicting, like the fruity drink you ordered at the lounge. your lips were the softest he’d ever kissed.

he walked you to your fluffy pink bed as he kissed you like he was drinking you in. his tongue explored your mouth freely. you laid back on the bed. he crawled over you.

he couldn’t comprehend it. how could someone like you—someone so beautiful, funny, charismatic, shy, strange, stubborn, perfect—sit in your pretty little room and listen to his music religiously enough to have a poster up in your room?

he pulled back, a string of saliva the last thing that connected your swollen lips to his.

“jungkook…” you whispered.

“baby, you’ve really been a fan of me this whole time?”

you nodded, slightly dazed, “i’ve been a fan since 2018.”

that was when he snapped.

he slid your hands up and under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his torso. maintaining eye contact, you slid his shirt up further and further until he lifted his big arms and let you fully take it off.

you studied him for too long, eyes trailing his wide shoulders and muscular torso. your pupils dilatad. goosebumps crawled up his arms.

he hadn’t ever been more grateful than then that he stayed consistent at the gym.

when he got up to take off his pants, you got the memo and slipped off your clothing.

he turned back to you. you were bare, laying back against the bed. he froze. not because of your body. because of you.

you weren’t trying to be anything. you weren’t posing, weren’t hiding, weren’t performing. you just looked up at him, soft and a little shy, like you didn’t even realize what you were doing to him.

like you didn’t know how beautiful you were.

jungkook’s breath caught in his chest.

for a second, he didn’t move at all.

his eyes traced you slowly, almost reverently, like he was afraid if he rushed it, the moment would break. the soft curve of you against the sheets, the way your hair fanned out beneath you, the warmth in your gaze that was still fixed on him. 

“hey,” you murmured, your voice small, a little uncertain under the weight of his stare.

that snapped something in him.

he stepped closer without thinking, slower this time, like he was approaching something fragile. something sacred.

his hand reached out, hesitating just for a second before brushing lightly against your arm.

“you’re…” he started, then stopped, his throat tightening.

he let out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly, almost in disbelief.

“…you’re so pretty,” he finished, softer than anything he’d said all night.

his strong hands flipped you onto your stomach with ease. you let out a soft gasp.

you arched your back almost instinctively. he bit his lip, lining up.

“are you sure you want this?” he whispered.

you nodded eagerly, “i need it.”

that was when he pressed inside. you were so tight, he had to fight the urge to come right then and there. 

your walls clenched around him. his vision blurred at the edges. he let out a ragged groan, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. he started to move, a slow, deep rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. each withdrawal was a sweet agony, each return a blissful homecoming. you could feel every thick inch of him, the vein pulsing on the underside of his shaft as he dragged against your sensitive inner walls.

he leaned over you, his hot breath fanning across the back of your neck, the silver of his lip piercing a cool contrast against your flushed skin. "fuck," he let out, his voice a low, strained rumble. "you feel... you feel like you were made for me." his hands, large and warm, slid up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before his fingers tangled in your hair at the nape. he didn't pull, just held you, a grounding, possessive touch that made you whimper.

you pushed back into him, meeting his thrusts, a silent plea for more. he understood. his pace quickened, the sound of skin meeting skin filling your room, a sound that mingled with your soft cries and his harsh breaths. the coil in your belly wound tighter, impossibly tight, a spring ready to snap. "jungkook," you gasped, his name a prayer on your lips as your fingers scrabbled for purchase on your pink sheets. "i can't... it's too much."

"no, baby," he rasped, his rhythm becoming more deliberate, more punishing. he angled his hips, and the next thrust hit that spot deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. "you can take it. you will take it." his free hand snaked around your hip, his fingers finding your clit, swollen and slick from your last orgasm. he circled it once, twice, a feather-light touch that was your undoing. 

jungkook knew he was wrong. 

he had you bent over on your own bed, your cheek rubbing against your pink pillow as he thrusted into you again. 

he looked up at your walls, several bts posters scattered throughout them. your shelf had a stack of albums. he even noticed a cooky plush on your bed. 

“sweet girl,” he murmured, tattooed hand gripping your hip to get a new angle, “‘got my posters all over your room.”

a blush crawled up your neck as you arched your back further.

“i wanted this for so long,” you whined.

“i know, baby, i know,” his voice was rough with a cocky edge. he snapped his hips harder to hear the little whimper you let out. “never thought your bias would split you open like this, huh?”

you shook your head.

he picked up his pace. you let out a soft, breathy moan, fingers clutching the soft sheets, voice all sweet and trembling like melted sugar. “jungkook… right there—please…”

he tugged a your hair, “yeah? you’ve been such a good girl for me. saving this sweet pussy just for me? dripping all over my cock because your favorite finally noticed you… so fucking cute. you gonna cum for me? gonna make a mess on the dick you’ve fantasized about for years?”

his filthy words made you clench around him. your voice came out even softer, shy and adoring, almost whispering it into the pillow, “mhm… just for you.”

something in the way you said it; so gentle, so genuinely sweet and full of pure affection. hit him right in the chest. his rhythm faltered for half a second, then he pulled out with a wet sound, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“turn over,” he ordered, voice thick but urgent. “now. i need to see your face.”

you obeyed instantly, rolling onto your back with those big soft eyes looking up at him, cheeks flushed pink, lips swollen and parted in a little gasp. your hair was messy against the pillow, and the way you looked up at him, all shy and adoring, made his cock twitch hard.

he pushed your thighs apart and slid back inside you in one smooth thrust, groaning at how warm and wet you still were. “there she is, my girl. fuck, look at that face. so pretty for me.“

you reached up, soft hands cupping his face, voice like honey as he started moving again, deep and steady, “jungkook?”

“yeah?”

“i think i love you.”

he froze. the words hung in the air, delicate and devastating. it wasn't the breathy, sex-fueled confession he was used to, the kind whispered in the dark by girls who loved the idea of him. this was different. your eyes, wide and sincere, held no trace of fantasy. you meant it.

"don't," he warned, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its playful arrogance. he started moving again, but the rhythm was different. slower, deeper, almost punishing. "don't say that."

"but it's true," you whispered, your thumbs stroking his cheeks. "i've loved you for so long. even before this. i just... i never thought i'd get to tell you."

every word was a tiny, perfect needle, pricking at the armor he'd spent years building. he looked away from your eyes, his gaze landing on a poster of himself above your headboard—his younger, softer self staring back. the irony was suffocating. he was fucking his fan on a bed surrounded by his own face, and she was telling him she loved him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"you don't love me," he grunted, his hips snapping a little harder, trying to force the intimacy back into the physical. "you love this. you love the idea of getting fucked by your bias."

"i love you," you repeated, stronger this time, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. "i love your voice. i love the way you laugh. i love how hard you work. and i love how you feel inside me right now."

he cursed, a low, guttural sound torn from his throat. he buried his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning against your skin. he was losing control. this was supposed to be a conquest, a bit of fun, a story to maybe tell the guys later if he was drunk enough. it wasn't supposed to be this. it wasn't supposed to feel like this.

"look at me," you pleaded softly, your fingers tangling in his hair. "please, jungkook."

he resisted for a moment, then slowly lifted his head. your eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but your expression was full of nothing but adoration. it was terrifying.

"say something," you whispered.

"what do you want me to say?" his voice was raw, vulnerable in a way he hadn't allowed himself to be in years. "that i love you too? i don't even know you."

"you know me," you insisted, your voice trembling slightly. "you're seeing all of me right now. this is me. this is my room. this is my heart."

he groaned and kissed you then, hard and desperate. it wasn't a kiss of passion, but of surrender. he poured all his confusion, his frustration, and the terrifying spark of something he refused to name into it. when he pulled back, his forehead was resting against yours.

“fuck,” he rasped between kisses, “i love you too.”

you pulled back. your eyes widened in disbelief, eyes wet with unshed tears, “really?”

“mhm,” he murmured, going in for another soft, wet kiss.

he pulled back, studying you for a moment. his heart ached.

"you're gonna ruin me," he admitted, the words barely audible.

"good," you breathed, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down your temple. "let me ruin you."

he started moving again, his pace now deliberate and intense. every thrust was a question, every drag of his cock against your walls an answer he wasn't ready to hear. he watched your face, memorizing the way your lips parted, the flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes fluttered closed when he hit just the right spot.

"jungkook," you moaned, your hands sliding down through his hair, pulling him closer. "please... come with me. look at me when you come."

he locked his gaze with yours, his hips pistoning faster, the bedframe groaning in protest. the coil in his stomach tightened to an impossible degree. "mine," he whispered breathily in your ear, the words a mix of possession and awe. "my fucking girl."

"yours," you cried out, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you. "only yours.”

the sight of you, completely undone beneath him, calling his name with such raw devotion, was his undoing. he came with a strangled groan, his eyes never leaving yours as he emptied himself into you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

he collapsed on top of you, his weight grounding you both as you both struggled to catch your breath. the room was silent save for the pounding of his heart against your chest.

after a long moment, he shifted, rolling to the side but keeping you tucked against him. he looked at the cooky plushie squished between your pillows, then back at your peaceful, sated face.

he knew he was wrong. this wasn't just fan service anymore. this was something else entirely. and he was completely, utterly fucked.

“you’re not getting rid of me.”

you kissed his cheek, “good.”

author’s note: it’s finally here! this story was my unhinged baby and i’m glad it wasn’t too unhinged for you guys to like the teaser!!! i hope this lives up to your expectations and thank you for reading🤍

MASTERLIST

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @kookswifesblog @kashmoneykoo @kiliskywalker666 @milanii13 @he4rtz4yoongi @michelleborgesc97 @macchuu-7 @rmdarealgoat @thesmutconnoisseur @naturistnene @philipetchebest @tae-taes-future-wifey @wastefulangel @iscapisms @skzdreamz @itssskimiiii @miwkee @bjoriis @albascardigan @aliceskzfan @joonjulyagust-d @tina-20 @wisunkusia @lovejkmilitarywife @jungkookbigauraunicorn @minxybunnykook @mllvsvb @xx-untitled @yama24 @mikrokosmosellen @corachuia @stay-army1 @namggukie @justsisse @justfaefaeee @sunixxw @mimi1097 @ahgasegotarmy116 @agirlmadeofsteel @fixonsslvt @uwusunwoo @yourtmbirgirlfriend @tejal802002 @lenora04 @jenoluuvvs @nannuusum @lesstial @btsv2110 @soso-enjw15 @mxxxnshine @Ivlyhiraii @sugadclaws @airiloveskuromi-chan @seokmyballs

[jeonette]

size kink gone wrong right?

in which your boyfriend, jungkook, has always had a massive fuckin’ size kink. but today, something snaps in him when he watches as your stomach creates a huge bulge as he’s fucking so deeply, into you. and let’s just say, that was the moment that led to the decision of him impregnating you right there and then.

You slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you moaning loudly as he stretched you open again, for the 3rd time tonight.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, helping you take him inch by inch. “That's it... fuck... take it all baby.” He hit bottom inside of you, making your stomach bulge again.

“Fuuuck, look at that..” He groaned, watching you take his entire length. He started guiding your hips up and down, maintaining a rhythm.

Jungkook had two obsessions in this world. The first one being the obvious, you.

And the second? The time during sex when he watches as his 9 inch cock penetrates into you, having you crying before his cock is even fully plunged into your cunt.

“Bounce on my cock baby, let me see you use me.” He slapped your ass lightly. “You wanted to ride me, yeah? Fuck, you're so pretty bouncing on my dick like this.” His stomach pressed against yours.

Jungkook's eyes dropped immediately to your bouncing breasts as you rode him, his mouth watering. The sight of your nipples swaying with each bounce made his cock throb violently inside you. “Fuck... look at these fuckin’ tits,” he growled, reaching up to pinch and roll your nipples between his fingers. “So pretty... fucking hypnotic.”

“Nghh—hm! Koo!— please. Wan’ your m-mouth.” You cry out, tears falling from your eyes as the immense pleasure was becoming too intense to handle.

“So fuckin’ greedy. But anything for my princess..” He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around your bouncing nipple just as he slammed his hips up into you, hitting your deepest spot.

“Mmmff..” He sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bead while his cock wrecked your pussy, “Gonna ruin this beautiful fuckin’ body. Every part of you is mine. Fuckin’ mine.” He slapped your ass hard, resulting in a wince.

“Mmh!— wait! T-too big, please—!” You try to cry out, but it’s useless.

He’s a fucking goner.

“N-no— You can take it, princess... you were made for my massive dick,” he groaned, releasing your nipple with a wet pop.

He thrusted up harder, making you scream as the huge bulge in your stomach grew deeper. “Shhh... don't fight it, hm? Let kookie stretch this little pussy out.” He gripped your hips, forcing you all the way down.

“How is it— fuckin’ possible that I fuck this pussy every, fuck, day. A-and yet, you’re still s’fucking tight.” He barely lets out, his head lolls back as he starts seeing stars.

“K-kookie!— gonna cum! wanna— t-together.” You manage to stutter.

“Yeah? Where’d you want me, pretty girl?”

“I-inside— please!”

His eyes darkened instantly at your desperate plea. "Fuck. Want me to breed you? Yeah? Is that it?” He repeated, thrusting up savagely, intensely. Almost as if he’s fuckin’ angry.

"Gonna fill this pretty pink pussy until you're dripping with my cum? Want daddy's baby inside this tight cunt?" He slapped your ass hard, pulling your hips down to meet his thrusts. “P-please say yes, angel. Say yes and l'Il bury my cum s’deep inside of you. so deep inside..”

You could barely let out a word, your head barely nodding yes as you could feel his cock repeatedly abuse your sensitive spot inside you.

“Fuuuck yes...” He flipped you both over suddenly, pinning you beneath him, his cock buried even deeper now. “Hold onto kookie, yeah?... gonna breed this pussy so good.” He started pounding relentlessly, his stomach smacking against yours.

“Feel that? That's my dick, baby.... needa fill this empty womb.”

“Gonna pump you so full of my fat cock and my cum.... gonna make you so fucking pregnant,” he snarled, his hips moving rapidly. His massive length slamming into you over and over, the sound of his skin slapping against yours was filling the room, “This pussy is mine... gonna lock my baby inside it.”

“Please!— can’t hold it any l-longer! N-need you to cum r-right now!”

Nails digging into your thighs, he lifted your legs over his shoulders. The new angle allowed him to pound even deeper, making your stomach bulge obscenely with his dick. “Such a good girl... begging so nicely to be fuckin’ bred.”

“I-I’m almost— fuck! Kookie!— d-don’t stop, please!”

"Not stopping... never gonna fuckin'stopp... milk my cock, princess." His hips pounded into you relentlessly, the head of his cock grinding against your g-spot, “Cum for me... make a mess on this fat cock while I breed you.”

Finally, he buried himself balls deep inside your already sensitive pussy, his hot, thick cum leaking out of you continuously.

“T-take it, fuvck... C-can’t let it leak—” His eyes scan the porn scene beneath him, immediately pushing back his cum into you.

His hips jerked with each spurt, making your stomach bulge even more visible.

“Shit. You’re definitely getting pregnant after that.”

so… I had a dream, woke up and am ovulating.. okay? let a girl live 🥹 also FIRST and FUCKING LAST time am I ever editing the whole drabble into smaller font because holy fuck does it take time. Also I did not proof read.. wrote this literally 45 minutes ago so any grammar mistakes will not be mentioned 💗 lmk ur thoughts bcs this is the first ever smut drabble I’ve made!! i tried to be as detailed as possible and that’s not really something I usually do!! so lmkkkk!!!!!! ;))

divider credits : @/cursed-carmine

[gukcnt]

《 ONE NIGHT CONTRACT 》 BTS‏

𓊆 ❤︎ 𓊇 ──── seven powerful businessmen have the luxury, the influence and anything they could ever desire — yet none of it makes them feel alive anymore. that is, until they become captivated by a waitress who awakens something inside them for the first time in years. drawn in by your presence, they offer you one night of passion and pleasure in exchange for money, never expecting it to end in such an unforgettable way.

PAIRING ✦ dom!bts x sub!f.reader

GENRE ✦ gangbang au, BDSM, polyamory, eightsome, porn with little plot, smut, fluff

WARNINGS ✦ 18+, explicit smut, consensual rough sex, eightsome, multiple orgasms and positions, creampie, unprotected sex, free use, semipublic sex, breeding and impregnation kink, degradation, power play, size difference, bondage, reader gets passed around, oral sex (f. receiving), double penetration, triple penetration, vaginal and anal sex, anal training, spanking, impact play (use of hands, belts etc), choking and breath play, possible use of sex toys, overstimulation, forced orgasms, cum inflation and belly bulging, pussy eating and fingering, squirting, wet & messy sex, body worship, dirty talk, fisting and gaping, breast play, mentions of safe word (not used), oral sex (m. receiving), sloppy blowjob, throat fucking, manhandling, use of lube and saliva, cum stuffing, use of belt as a collar, reader takes three cocks at the same time, sweetest loving aftercare, more tags to be added...

WC ✦ 30k+ ( estimated )

NOTE ✦ 5k followers special oneshot as i promised to you babes *MWAAAH*

TAGLIST ✦ OPEN .ᐟ

『 MASTERLIST | READ ON WATTPAD 』

➥ SNEAK PEEK ‹𝟹