petite bibliothèque

{slow/semi ia} 00z ♡ mini library for bts fics ♡ mostly 18+ mdni ! main: hopeonysus

[yzzart]

⋆˚｡OTHER SIDE! | J.JUNGKOOK

if you met your brother's best friend, for whom you have a crush, on the same sidewalk, would you go to the other side? well, your friends bet no; he's already said you're on the other side.

⋆˚࿔ pairings: brother's best friend!jungkook x f!reader.

⋆˚࿔ tags + warnings: age gap (Jungkook is 28, reader is 24), reader is a magazine columnist, teenage crush, inspired by the song "Other Side" by Brent Faiyaz, cat-and-mouse dynamic, jealous!Jungkook, Jungkook acting like a jerk, a bit of angst, mention of an argument/fight, explicit content, unprotected sex, dirty talk, biting and hickeys, clitoral stimulation, oral sex (female receiving), slight nipple obsession, mild praise kink, crying during sex. (not yet reviewed) — wc: 13.5K

#1 "HOME SWEET HOME"? BOY, GO BACK TO SEOUL.

"Are you listening to me?"

Searching for even a shred of honesty, and summoning that classic childhood pressure the knowledge that lying was a terrible thing, something that shamed anyone who did it, — mom was always right — you were convinced you had moved past it; that you had put a final period on that chapter of your life.

It was ridiculous — perhaps something far more sweeping and drastic than the word "shameful," a term that wasn't even in your vocabulary at the time — to keep circling back, to keep dwelling on the past when you had already turned the page; besides, you weren't some hypersensitive teenager anymore.

At least, that was exactly what you kept telling yourself; well, it worked most of the time and held water — it earned a seal of quality.

Or…

Until someone mentioned his name, or said how he was doing, or until your stomach decided to act as if you were fifteen again. Instantly, you were fifteen once more — back to when you first discovered the passion growing in your heart. — Actually, scratch that "seal of quality" idea immediately; it didn't hold up, and you’d want to file a complaint.

Damn, it was cruelly ridiculous.

"I can't believe i'm talking to myself."

The bar was busy. More so than usual for a thursday, though not quite packed; just crowded enough that Juria had to raise her voice to get your attention. — Something your best friend hadn't managed to do for a little while now; almost five minutes, to be exact. — The music was loud, accompanied by the constant clatter of glasses behind the bar.

You wanted to ask why the night shifts were always the worst, but you knew it was such a stupid question — realizing it wasn't worth asking. On the bright side, you didn't work those hours, nor did you work at that establishment. You simply took advantage of Juria’s invitation — she would always manipulate you with lines like "we need to have some fun" or "lose that sour look; it doesn't suit you" — and visit your brother.

Speaking of whom, where was Jimin?

In truth, that clever woman had a plan up her sleeve — or rather, up her manicured nails; she was seizing the chance to "run into" Jimin’s friend Taehyung, who also worked at the bar. — Truly, the world was full of schemers. — The young man was far from naive; he recognized the woman’s intentions before she even reached the counter.

"What?" — Juria’s remark snapped you out of your thoughts — a welcome relief. Shaking your head and swirling the drink remaining in your glass, you leaned closer to the redhead. — "I’m sorry, Juria. Could you say that again?" — You furrowed your brows as you asked; the look was too genuine for your friend to deny.

"You’re acting strange." — Juria raised her glass to her lips, glistening from lip gloss in the dim light, while fixing you with an arched-brow stare, the look of someone who suspected something. So, she had been right. — "Seriously, honey." — The woman placed a hand on your knee in a gesture of affection.

"I'm fine, Juria." — In just one sip, you finished the drink; the burning, caused by the alcohol, went down his throat drastically and quickly. You placed the empty glass on the counter, waiting for the opportunity to drink again. — If you doubt it, if your brother saw it, he would add water. — "Did you see the photo i posted? I tagged you." — You tried to change the subject; in fact, you could return the focus to your friend's conversation.

Behind the counter, the noise of a video cracking is loud, drawing your attention; When you turn your head towards the sound, you see Taehyung observing — in other words, dedicating himself to the conversation — the scene while drying some glasses. He would take your glass if it weren't for you holding it.

"She's been like that for about ten minutes." — He shrugged as he tended to the glasses; you saw him smiling.

"Thanks for the help, Taehyung." — You said dryly, returning the same smile to the older. You certainly weren't going to leave the bartender a tip — absolutely not. He silently mouthed, "you're welcome."

"Don't tell me you're thinking about him…" — Juria leaned against the counter, looking at Taehyung in search of an accomplice — and finding one instantly. He followed her lead, abandoning the task of cleaning glasses to rest his arms on the marble surface. — "I know that look all too well."

Damn, where have you been, Jimin?

"Who?" — The question came out fast; you almost choked on your own saliva. Even with the music blaring, you caught every word and couldn't hide a peculiar — actually, surprising — reaction. Like, maybe you could have been a little less dramatic about it. — "Shit, don't even start with that."

You knew what they were up to, and it was awful; honestly, you’d rather walk on hot coals than endure the way Taehyung and Juria were in cahoots. Sometimes, you saw them more as enemies than friends. — It was a bit of an exaggeration — drastic and over-the-top — but that was how you felt; and, with the alcohol in you system, you was getting more emotional and sensitive.

"A bit of a strange reaction to a simple question, love." — The redhead tilted her head, making a funny face: eyebrows arched, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. You laughed, unable to help yourself. — Taehyung mimicked her.

"How old are you two? Five?"

Before the pair had a chance to answer her, the bar's back door opened, and Jimin appeared. It looked like he had been using his phone, as he was holding it in his hand before slipping it into his trouser pocket — likely on a break or handling something personal, which explained his absence for a while. — Upon seeing you, even though he saw you often, your brother smiled in your direction.

"I'm surprised this bar is still standing after i've been away for twenty minutes." — Jimin draped his cleaning rag over his shoulder and nudged Taehyung’s waist with his elbow. A few minutes later, a customer ordered a drink, and the older stepped in to serve them. — "Jungkook is coming back tomorrow." — What?

"I thought he wasn't coming back until next week." — Wow, Taehyung had completely left that detail out of the conversation; not that you, like, actually wanted to know. You pointed at your glass, signaling that you needed a refill; your friend got the message.

Your phone buzzed with a notification, but you chose not to check it right away. — So, he was back in Busan? After roughly four years and five months — and no, you didn't know the exact number of days — spent in Seoul taking on the responsibilities of managing the family finances, Jungkook had to settle into his new life. That didn't mean he never visited Busan, he certainly didn't neglect that part of his life, but the visits were brief, shorter than he would have liked; still, he always made a point of seeing his best friend.

The curious thing was that Jungkook never managed to see or visit you during the time he spent in Busan; it was strange — It seemed as though he was trying to avoid you; it was a choice he made of his own free will. In some ways, though, it was better that way; yet, he still followed you on social media. He would often send you small gifts via Jimin — a gesture you truly appreciated.

Jungkook cared about his best friend's little sister; he had never stopped caring about you.

"Oh, he asked about you," — Jimin said after calling your name. For the third time, you nearly choked on you drink; Juria rested her hands on her knee again, steadying you. For God's sake, couldn't that boy just stay in Seoul? — "Taehyung, did you see that cherry liqueur?"

"I think we ran out, didn't we?"

Reaching for your phone to check the time, you took the opportunity to look at a recent notification — 10:23 PM. There were several, actually, but only one bothered you; it was pretty obvious why.

mnijungkook liked your photo.

For the first time in ages, you felt something dangerously familiar wash over you from head to toe; it was unbearable, and there seemed to be no immediate solution. My God, it was the same feeling you’d had as a teenager. — Jungkook was coming back to town, and apparently, you hadn’t gotten over him at all.

#2 WHY DO YOU GET THE IMPRESSION THAT YOU FEEL ANGER WHEN YOU SEE ME?

You were exhausted; you wished you could find — or even invent — a word stronger and more concrete than "exhausted" to truly define your state at that moment. This time, you weren't exaggerating. Scheduling interviews, meetings, and a photo shoot that ran nearly two and a half hours late — compounded by the editor-in-chief deciding to change half of an upcoming article at the last minute.

It wasn't that you hated the idea of ​​working as a magazine columnist — you’d never dream of thinking that; you were grateful for the job and enjoyed working in a field you loved. But, holy shit, sometimes you just wanted to cause a scene — create the kind of utter chaos Dwight did in the fourteenth episode of The Office’s fifth season.

You just wanted to go home, take a long bath, and sleep for ten hours straight — or maybe do all three.

As you left the building, greeting the security guards stationed by the large entrance doors and reaching for your phone, you noticed messages from Juria; they were trivial. Just "did you survive?" to which you had replied, "unfortunately." You then tucked your phone into your bag and headed toward the bus stop — or, on second thought, you could take a taxi.

Then, you stopped in you tracks, as if something had suddenly startled or surprised you, which was exactly what had happened.

Holy shit.

He was leaning against a black motorcycle, wearing a black leather jacket with his arms crossed, or rather, his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, leaving his tattoos exposed; there were some new ones, or maybe just touch-ups, it was hard to tell.

Did he look stronger?

He certainly seemed taller than you remembered. — Of course, it had been four years and a few damn months; you didn't perfectly recall his build. — And his hair was a bit long, not excessively so, but it suited him.

Jeon Jungkook.

"No, no." — You murmured, gripping the strap of your bag tightly, feeling a sense of unease. Why was he right outside your workplace? Jungkook should have been resting after his trip, busy, or anywhere else and not there; besides, how did he even know your work address?

Before you had the chance to process what you was seeing and what was happening — and for that matter, to curse your brother for telling his best friend where you worked — you noticed something else; or rather, someone else.

A woman was standing beside him and she was beautiful, truly beautiful. She was standing next to the motorcycle, talking to Jungkook, laughing with him, and touching his arm.

They seemed intimate, very close; you had never touched his arm like that. A deeply unpleasant, uncomfortable sensation churned in your stomach — it felt like nausea.

He was smiling at the woman, who burst into laughter — unnecessarily, it seemed forced — at something he’d said. She touched Jungkook’s arm again, and you could have sworn you saw her tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and whisper something into his ear.

"Oh, right." — You almost bit your tongue in indignation; you didn't even know why you were annoyed. There was no reason for it; Jeon was a grown man, single and very handsome. It was obvious he’d be surrounded by beautiful women who were always flirting with him. Yeah, you’d had to get used to hearing about it.

But less than 24 HOURS after arriving in the city? Wow.

You should just leave. — Yes, that was exactly what you intended to do to avoid dragging out the situation; you were going to turn your back and head home, looking for a taxi. Acting like a grown woman; you weren't obligated to watch the scene unfold. — Then, he looked up and saw you hurrying in the opposite direction, scanning the street for a cab.

Jungkook’s face lit up instantly; it was as if a star had fallen right there in the street, or as if someone had flipped on a light. A genuine, happy smile spread across his lips, possibly highlighting his lip piercing. Jungkook called out your name, practically shouting to get your attention; you didn't want to stop, but you had to.

The woman next to Jeon looked at you with curiosity and confusion, not liking being left out; she hated that she didn't continue to receive the boy's attention because of your presence. — Jungkook quickly moved away and walked towards you.

"You left earlier than i expected!" — Jungkook's voice was peaceful, very serene, and showed a good mood at seeing you. His eyes shone for you, he was happy to have seen you again; it was clear.

"What are you doing here?" — Your tone was harsher than you intended, taking Jungkook by surprise; there was no need for it.

"Wow, what a way to say hello." — He gave a humorless laugh. He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out the reason for such odd treatment. He tilted his head, a classic Jungkook habit, you remembered. — "It's been a while…"

"What are you doing here, Jungkook?" — You repeated the question. Your eyes darted toward the woman, wondering how she was taking Jungkook’s absence; to your surprise, you heard her say goodbye to him and walk away, heading in the opposite direction.

"I came to get you." — He put his hands in his pants pockets.

"Get me?" — You blinked in surprise. — "Why?"

"Because i wanted to."

You would look at him, though at times you couldn't bear the eye contact for long and would fix your gaze on an invisible spot on his jacket or his necklace; regardless, your focus remained entirely on him. You were starting to feel nervous, and fatigue was taking its toll, yet you held your ground.

"I’ve been away for a while, and i thought it would be nice to see you," — Jungkook explained, scratching the back of his neck.

There was no real need for the explanation, and he knew it, but he wanted to be clear with you, and he was telling the truth; after arriving back, the only thing he’d had to do was ask Jimin for your work address. — Well, he hadn't expected your earlier reaction, but he intended to ignore it, he’d love nothing more than to forget it.

Jungkook tried to mask his nervousness, which seemed to be mounting little by little; he wondered why, but he didn't have the patience to wait for the answer. It was probably just post-trip exhaustion, he hadn't rested as much as he would have liked; yeah, that had to be it.

You had changed. — Not that it was a bad thing, quite the opposite; it was good, really good. Jeon immediately corrected his thoughts. You were no longer the teenager, that little girl who was always glued to Jimin’s side; no longer the girl who used to tease him by sticking out your tongue or rolling your eyes or the young girl who constantly put up new posters in your room, trying to make it look edgier and cooler.

Now, you were a mature, beautiful, and incredibly confident woman; you were admirable, too, and according to your friends, and especially Jimin deeply dedicated to your work.

In fact, you were absolutely and perhaps even unconditionally beautiful. — Damn, he knew you had grown up, but he had no idea it would be like this. — Jungkook hadn't realized that the shy smile playing on your lips could have such an effect on him, or that it would make him want to keep looking at you.

It seemed Jungkook would struggle to resist the resurgence of certain feelings and thoughts, ones he had once deemed biting and devious, yet at the time, dismissed as merely fleeting regarding his best friend's sister. Jeon had promised himself he wouldn't revisit that story, that situation.

Absolutely not.

"Jungkook?" — Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts; it wasn't the first time, you had been calling him for seven seconds. He had seemed to go blank, frozen for a moment, before snapping back to reality. — "Is everything okay?" — you asked, tilting your head and rubbing your arms; you was starting to feel cold.

"Hmm…" — He acknowledged, blinking rapidly. You watched Jeon’s tongue press against the inside of his cheek, a sign of impatience, as his fingers ran through his dark hair, tidying it up. — "Shall we go? Lucky for you, the spare helmet should fit." — You walked over to the motorcycle; upon receiving the helmet and putting it on, you confirmed what he had said, it was a perfect fit. Before Jungkook started the engine, while waiting for you to climb onto the back, you hesitated.

"She isn't going to get, like, jealous?" — Upon hearing your question, the older turned his head toward you, and you could picture his furrowed brows and the pout on his lips. Jungkook wasn't stupid, let alone naive; he knew exactly who you were talking about.

"Who?" — His voice came out muffled by the helmet, but you could detect the confusion in his tone. He liked to play at feigned simplicity, innocence.

"That woman." — Ah! Jungkook smiled; you were glad it wasn't visible, but you knew he was smiling because of his eyes, they crinkled and sparkled. That man was infuriating; he drove you crazy. — "I'm serious, Jungkook."

"Are you interested?" — You hated it when people answered your question with another question. — "I don't think she'll get jealous." — He shrugged, as if it were nothing. — "She's not my girlfriend or anything like that."

Wow. — For some completely irrational, and slightly significant, reason, your chest felt lighter; no, you felt lighter. It was kind of absurd, but you didn't care; you didn't care one bit.

"Were you jealous?"

"What? Of course not." — You climbed onto the back of the bike. You weren't sure if it was right to place your hands on Jeon's waist for balance you could have held onto the sides of the motorcycle; there were other handholds but he noticed your hesitation and wasted no time grabbing your hands and placing them on his waist.

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"A little bit, come on." — He was amused. It was obvious, or perhaps he simply didn't want to hide it; either way, there was no need to. Jeon had missed teasing you; he had missed your impatience with his playful antics — he had missed you.

"Jungkook…"

"Yeah?"

"Can we go, please?"

#3 NOTHING STRANGE HERE, MOVE ALONG.

The sound of water running over concrete, accompanied by the wet, unsubtle noises of fabric scrubbing against a surface, filled the garage; someone was humming, too.

Jungkook wiped the wet cloth over the side of the motorcycle, watching and enjoying the result as the black paint regained its shine in the afternoon light. The cleaning was nearly finished; it was a relief, as only a few spots remained, and being a stickler for detail, he wanted the bike to look brand new.

Cleaning his motorcycle was, without exaggeration, therapeutic for him; Jeon held a deep affection for the vehicle. He couldn't quite explain the feeling of seeing it so well cared for, especially by his own hands. It was the true meaning of satisfaction.

"You're cleaning that spot for the third time." — Taehyung’s voice came from behind Jungkook; he was the one who had been humming earlier. Jeon tried not to detect a taunt in his friend's words, but it was impossible.

"There was a stain, Hyung." — He offered as an excuse, lying to the older. In reality, there was no stain at all. Rising from the small stool, Jungkook left the wet, dirty rag beside the bucket of soapy water.

"There wasn't." — He insisted stubbornly, like a child; the two of them acted like children, really and it only got worse when Jimin joined their squabbles. — "Tell the truth: you've got something on your mind." — Taehyung wasn't lying, and that made the situation trickier; it was a toss-up, specifically because Jungkook couldn't explain what he wanted, not even to himself.

Wiping sweat from his forehead, Jungkook turned to see Jimin walking toward him and Taehyung, carrying three bottles of beer, exactly what he needed right then; he was grateful. He had been cleaning the motorcycle for nearly three hours; the long delay was due to his friends chatting away.

"How long are you staying in Seoul, anyway?" — Jimin asked, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a sip.

"A few weeks." — Jungkook shrugged, mirroring the blond man. — "Maybe a month or more?"

To be honest, Jungkook didn't want to return to Seoul; what with the corporate responsibilities, the pressure to deliver results, and the insufferable meetings with tedious, arrogant people. He owned up to his immaturity and his reluctance to fully embrace his role; he felt a need for honesty.

It wasn't that he hated the role he had to play in the financial world; a world his family had built and intended to perpetuate. — His brother had chosen not to follow that path. In fact, he had clashed with their father, causing a rift. — Jungkook hadn't been the first in line to inherit the family's financial empire, but he had become the most competent. — Following his older brother's decision, he took it upon himself to shape his father's vision.

Most of the time, Jungkook agreed with his brother's decision. If he had been in his brother's shoes, he wouldn't have thought twice.

"Will you survive?" — Jimin asked, teasing his friend. A message notification caught their attention; it was the blond guy's phone, so he reached for the device to check the message.

"Maybe." — He crossed his arms, taking a sip of his beer. Taehyung rolled his eyes at the answer; he’d forgotten just how dramatic his friend could be. Both of them grew curious about the message Jimin had received, as he was typing a reply presumably while smiling. — "Who is it ?" — He asked brazenly, without a shred of shame.

"My sister." — Ah, that made sense. Jungkook raised his eyebrows and stared at some invisible point, thinking of the girl; it had been two days since he’d last seen you, when he’d picked you up from work. — "They're rescheduling a photoshoot, or something like that," —He remarked, without many details.

"Again?" — Jungkook asked, looking skeptical; on the way to your house, you had mentioned a delay with the photoshoot for part of the article and that it would need to be rescheduled. Your boss hadn't been happy about it, and neither had you. — "I can imagine how she must be feeling." — He set the empty beer bottle down on the old garage table.

"She told you?" — Jimin raised his eyebrows, turning off his phone after replying to you and slipping it into his pocket. The tattooed man nodded, glancing at the motorcycle to check for any dirt; no, it was spotless. — "When?"

It was that simple; Jimin wasn't going to interrogate him, there was no intention or need to do so. No drama. He trusted his sister and his best friend. — After all, there was no issue.

"Yesterday." — He answered faster than expected, which was a bit unusual, since Jeon usually took a moment to reply to certain things, often because his attention was elsewhere. — "She spent about five minutes badmouthing the model's team, the ones responsible for the delay." — Jungkook laughed at the memory; you had even gotten him to criticize the team too, turning him into an accomplice. He could feel the vibrations of your laughter as you held onto him to keep from falling off the motorcycle. — "She works incredibly hard."

A dazzling smile played on Jungkook’s lips, one he didn't try to hide in front of his friends; after all, there was no malice in his words. — He recognized the effort you put into your work and had listened to all you complaints and the projects you was organizing; he’d even made you promise to tell him every single detail. God, Jungkook’s cheeks actually ached from smiling and laughing so much with you.

He enjoyed the time spent with you, however brief; something deep inside Jeon was longing for more.

"Oh," — He turned to his friend. — "..she could come by. I don't know, we could ask for something.."

"Or you could go pick her up… again." — Taehyung bit his lip in a teasing tone, playing with the tattooed boy and not worrying about Jimin's reaction, who could get irritated by his speech; but, on the contrary, he didn't care. He just poked the side of Taehyung's stomach.

"Aish." — Jungkook threw the slightly wet and dirty cloth at Taehyung.

#4 NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU, IS IT THAT HARD?

Music vibrated through the walls; surprisingly, the DJ showed off his incredible work and good taste with everyone in the room. If in doubt, even outsiders could take advantage. This was great, everyone could enjoy it. — Colorful lights crossed the crowded dance floor while people danced, talked, laughed in groups or pairs spread across the room.

Oh, and they kissed, forgot to mention. As you walked, accompanied by Juria, who invited her, in other words, forced yoy to come and swore that she wouldn't take "no" for an answer. well, you would have had the patience to say all the synonyms for the word "no" but you preferred to follow your best friend — you managed to see several people kissing; probably, it wouldn't just be kisses.

Anyway, you wouldn't judge any of the souls.

"I'm going to grab something to drink." — You shouted to the redhead, who was enjoying the beat of the music; the instrumental track was truly great to listen to. It was impossible not to shout when trying to communicate with anyone, sometimes, even shouting didn't work. Luckily, Juria was still sober and heard you. — "Do you want anything?"

"No, sweetie!" — She said with a charming smile, winking at you; she was always fun to be around, and you loved seeing Juria happy like that. You also knew she would magically vanish from the small space you were occupying within just a few minutes. — "Make yourself at home." — Suddenly, before turning toward the bar, Juria gripped your shoulders to lean close to your ear. — "Be careful, because you look hot." — She whispered.

"Oh, Juria, please!" — You laughed, amused by her words and the way she winked at you once more.

On the bright side, the bar area wasn't too crowded; there were few people around, and you was relieved to find a small empty spot to order a drink without getting shoved, bumped, or having someone grind against your. —phew.

"Gin and tonic, please!" — The bartender nodded and winked at you, a friendly, innocent gesture. While waiting for you drink, you tapped your fingernails against the counter to the rhythm of the music. You didn't notice the young man standing next to you, watching you.

"Great choice," — he said enthusiastically, offering a closed-mouth smile. You looked up toward the voice and found yourself facing a handsome man, that was your first thought, tall, with slightly tousled dark hair and kind eyes. — "I’d order the same thing."

"Seriously?" — You laughed, realizing the guy was using a pickup line to strike up a conversation with you; well, it was worth a shot. — "Do you say that to everyone and just change the drink?" — Now it was the handsome guy's turn to laugh.

"Maybe."

"At least you admitted it."

“Honesty is my best quality.” — Unable to resist the guy’s cheesy line, you laughed, and he instantly smiled back, revealing his dimples. The bartender handed you your drink, along with the one he had ordered. He picked up his glass and raised it toward you, silently suggesting a toast. It was completely random, but you decided to play along. — “To a great choice.”

“To the worst pickup line ever.” — Before your glasses could clink, he dramatically placed a hand over his heart, as though you’d deeply wounded him. You could only shake your head, trying and failing not to laugh at the ridiculous display.

"Ouch.” — He narrowed his eyes and pouted dramatically, looking like a rain-soaked puppy; for a fleeting second, he reminded you of someone else. — “You really know how to be cruel.”

“And you really know how to be persistent.”

“Is it working?” — You clinked your glasses. As you took a sip, you merely shrugged in response, though if you were being honest, you were enjoying the easy banter between you.

"Maybe."

”‘Maybe’ is pretty close to a ‘yes.’”

“In what universe?”

"In mine."

At that exact moment, not even a second later, Jungkook saw you; from the other side of the party, he had a clear view of the bar and the venue’s entrance. — He knew the owner of the place, who had sent him an invitation as soon as he heard Jungkook was back in town.

Why not? — It had only been a few days since his return to the city, and he wanted to make the most of it; the invitation had seemed like the perfect opportunity. — So, he invited Yoongi along. Yoongi didn’t agree right away, but the boy from Busan had always known exactly how to convince him.

They had been there for a while now. Jungkook was grateful he had taken it easy, he hadn’t had much to drink. Back then, he had been no stranger to late-night parties and celebrations, and he still enjoyed nursing a drink every now and then, letting it bring back memories of the old days. — Since arriving at the party, he’d somehow ended up with five crumpled slips of paper tucked into his pocket, each one bearing a phone number and a tiny heart scribbled beside it.

He had no idea when they’d gotten there, but one thing was certain: none of those numbers would ever make it into his contacts.

Truthfully, he could have but he had no interest in doing so, no desire, no curiosity. — Nothing at all.

“Isn’t that the guy who went to school with us?” — Yoongi remarked, assuming Jungkook was staring at the same thing he was; a guy making out with one girl before immediately moving on to another. — “Damn,..he’s got stamina.” — He finished the last sip of his whiskey and turned toward the dark-haired man, only to find Jungkook’s gaze fixed on a completely different part of the room. — "Jungkook?"

No response.

"Jeon?" — After being ignored twice, Yoongi gave up on calling his name and followed the line of his friend’s stare instead. It didn’t take him long to figure it out. — “Ah…I get it.”

It was almost impressive. Yoongi had called his name three times without getting so much as a glance, a response, or any sign that Jungkook had even heard him. Yet the moment Yoongi muttered those two words under his breath, Jungkook finally turned to face him.

“What?” — The anger, disgust, and indignation etched across Jungkook’s face were impossible to miss. He bit the inside of his cheek and tightened his grip around his glass hard enough that, under different circumstances, he might have shattered it. Fine lines creased his brow as he kept his eyes fixed on the scene. — “Who is that guy?”

“No idea.” — Learning the name of the guy flirting with his friend’s little sister had never been on Yoongi’s agenda. Jungkook answered with nothing more than a low, gruff “Mm.” Yoongi shot him a knowing look. — “You shouldn’t even be asking that.”

"Why?"

“It’s simple, Jungkook.” — Frustrated, Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose. — “Because it’s none of your business and definitely none of mine.”

Yoongi was right. — He always was. It was rare, almost impossible, for his reasoning not to make perfect sense, and he already knew exactly what was happening without anyone having to tell him or without needing to guess but it wasn’t his business either. — And what was he supposed to do? It didn’t matter, because Jungkook wasn’t about to listen to Yoongi’s lectures or his pleas to stay put and pretend he hadn’t seen you standing there with that guy.

What the hell did he have to do with his friend’s sister’s love life?

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jungkook.” — Yoongi refused to beg, though he sounded like the angel perched on the tattooed man’s shoulder. The moment he heard, “I won’t,” he nearly swore at him with every curse word he knew. — “That’s exactly what you said before you broke a guy’s nose in Gwangju.”

“Yeah, but i was right that time.”

“You’re not right this time.”

Jungkook didn’t listen. He ignored the older friend — a level of disrespect — Yoongi would definitely take issue with and kept walking in the one direction he had no business going: straight toward you.

The guy’s name was Haein. — As cheesy as he was, he was undeniably charming, winning you over with his sense of humor and making you laugh with surprising ease. The alcohol might have had something to do with it, but let’s not dwell on that. — The conversation flowed effortlessly, light, natural, and easy, free of challenges, petty arguments, or someone constantly trying to get under your skin at every opportunity.

Haein was funny and incredibly polite, too; more than that, he seemed genuinely interested in everything you had to say. He listened, paid attention, asked questions. He wasn’t just waiting for his turn to speak; he was actually engaged in the conversation.

“So, you’re a writer?” — Haein’s eyes lit up with curiosity, genuine enthusiasm shining through as he asked about your work. He told you he was a photographer, a profession he’d dreamed of since he was a kid; his mother had always loved taking pictures.

“I’m a columnist.” — You replied, absentmindedly tracing the rim of your half-empty glass with your fingertip. Even beneath the dim lighting, the rosy tint on your cheeks was impossible to miss, and Haein found it undeniably endearing. You caught him quietly saying it was amazing. — “It’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.”

“What? I disagree.”

“How can you be so sure?” — You asked with a small smile. — “You don’t even know what i actually write about.” — You hadn’t meant for it to come across as blunt, and thankfully, Haein didn’t take it that way.

“I don’t need to.” — Haein smiled warmly. — “The way you smile when you talk about it tells me you care a lot about what you do.”

Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been genuinely interested in talking to a guy you’d just met. — Well, by now, he’d already gone from complete stranger to pleasant company; was that too much of a leap? — Everything between the two of you felt so effortless. Haein had somehow made you forget the noise and chaos of the party around you.

What would it hurt to give him a chance, right?

Apparently, quite a lot, because you were so caught up in the conversation, so genuinely enjoying yourself, that you never noticed a very familiar figure making his way toward you.

In any other situation, you would’ve much rather run into Jimin than him.

“I didn’t know you were here.” — He cleared his throat after calling your name. Unlike usual, he didn’t sound to be in a particularly good mood. His familiar voice was lower than normal, carrying a sharpness that made it seem unusually dry or maybe that was just your impression. The smile on your lips vanished instantly, as though you’d somehow been caught doing something wrong.

Haein noticed the sudden change in your expression and in your posture. The shift caught him off guard, but he couldn’t help attributing it to the newcomer who had just stepped into the space the two of you had been sharing.

Jungkook, of course.

“I didn’t know i needed to let you know.” — He clearly didn’t like the boldness in your reply, though it was to be expected. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, and his expression shifted into something that looked almost like disgust.

You didn’t mean to be so harsh with your brother’s friend; after all, the two of you had been getting along again over the past few days.

“Is he a friend of yours?” — Haein asked, adding a cute nickname derived from your name. It was endearing, and Jungkook let out a humorless laugh at the sound of it. The other noticed the tension between you two, his gaze shifting back and forth between you and the tattooed man.

“Unfortunately.” — You heard Jungkook click his tongue, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. The guy in front of you quietly laughed at his reaction. Haein shifted his attention, realizing he was being stared at and he had been right. Jeon was looking at him with a lowered, judgmental gaze, and it definitely didn’t mean anything good. He could have felt uncomfortable, but he wasn’t naive.

“Who are you?”

“Who wants to know?” — Haein raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t going to put up with something like that, much less accept having his conversation with you interrupted. He actually had the nerve to challenge your friend.

“I asked first.” — Jungkook argued.

“And i’m not obligated to answer.”

“Jungkook…” — You tried to interrupt, even though you already knew it wouldn’t make any difference.

“Stay out of this.”

Sighing, you couldn’t believe the situation you had found yourself in. You knew both of them were incredibly stubborn and self-centered; avoiding an awkward scene out of pure ignorance didn’t seem to be an option, apparently. You wanted to find Juria — though, at that moment, you felt it would be easier to find a needle in a haystack — and leave; at least with Haein’s number saved.

Maybe not. — Even though you had enjoyed the conversation and felt comfortable around him, he was still just a handsome guy you might meet once and never see again.

“Do you always treat people this way, or did you make an exception just for today?” — Haein questioned, the corners of his lips curving into a sarcastic smile. He wasn’t afraid of whatever answer or aggressive reaction might come.

“I made a special exception just for you.”

“Look, it’s fine.” — Haein raised his hands in surrender, though the gesture was clearly playful, keeping that teasing smile and disdainful look. — “I’m going to get some air.” — He could tell this wasn’t going to end well, not to mention he already knew there was something going on between you and Jungkook. Before leaving, he gave you one last smile. — “I hope i see you again later.”

“I hope so too.”

Jungkook’s expression hardened instantly; his jaw clenched tight. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. There was also an uncomfortable sensation in his eyes, making him blink several times. The sight of Haein, — whose name Jungkook didn’t even know, — disappearing into the crowd brought him a strange sense of relief; it was weird, honestly.

He found himself hoping you wouldn’t find him again. — Not this time.

“What was that, Jungkook?” — You questioned, visibly irritated and overwhelmed. You had so many questions, you wanted to yell at him; God, you felt suffocated. — “No, it felt like i was doing something wrong.” — Your eyes moved over him, not focusing on his face, you barely cared to. The colorful lights shifted around the two of you. — “My God, even Jimin doesn’t act like this.” — You gestured with your fingers.

“You didn’t even know the guy.” — Jungkook let out a humorless laugh, crossing his arms.

“So what?”

“Oh, so what?” — You widened your eyes mockingly at his words. Jungkook could be ridiculous when he wanted to be, he somehow always managed to outdo himself. Sometimes, you wondered how you had ever liked someone like him. — “You trust anyone now?” — How was that even a question? — “Always looking for attention.” — Once again, he let out a humorless laugh.

In disbelief, your expression was pure shock; you blinked once, twice, as the music, which seemed to have grown louder and the floor vibrating beneath your feet became impossible to tolerate like it had been before.

“Excuse me?” — Jungkook didn’t look apologetic in the slightest. He seemed completely normal as he stared at you in that ridiculous way, almost like your brother.

No, not like Jimin. — Jimin didn’t usually look at you like that. Sure, he scolded you sometimes, like any normal sibling would, but this was different.

“Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?”

“Someone with common sense? Trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“I don’t need you to stop me from doing anything.” — You still couldn’t believe this version of Jungkook. All you could think about was the shame burning in your chest.

“Of course not.” — He cleared his throat. — “You always know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” — He raised his voice, his anger evident, his composure slipping. Jungkook could have stepped closer instead of making her feel the need to shout over the music, but that was his choice. The sarcasm in his voice was so obvious that it made you freeze, pressing your body against the counter. — “He was a complete stranger. Did you even think about that?”

“You were once a complete stranger to me too, Jungkook.”

You had hit his ego; that was a point for you.

Before, it had only been teasing, a way for the two of you to mess with each other, but now it had turned into arrogance, careless words, and no filter whatsoever. You had been showing this side of yourself since Jungkook’s return, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. And as your attitude grew worse, it was clear you had no intention of stopping; well, neither did Jungkook.

“It’s completely different.” — He rolled your name off his tongue in a resentful murmur, rolling his eyes and letting his gaze settle on the crowd for a few seconds; a girl caught his attention and winked at Jungkook.

It wasn’t, and he knew that.

“No, that’s not the problem.” — Your throat was starting to itch; it felt dry, and you wanted to order another drink, this time something stronger. You were sure that if you asked for one in front of Jungkook, he would either knock it to the floor or drink it right in front of you, probably. — “You’re never going to see me as a grown woman, damn it.” — What a relief.

Jungkook fell silent, accepting your words. He felt a pang of desolation and anger; it wasn’t difficult to recognize the discomfort in the conversation, you had never been very good at hiding your emotions. He could have simply stayed quiet, leaving you alone with your hurt, or finally gone back to the guy you had been talking to; no, Jungkook didn’t think twice.

“Because you don’t act like one.” — He shrugged, raising one eyebrow while lowering the other. — “Maybe you won’t anytime soon.”

Those words hit you hard, like a punch; a pain so miserable, filled with overwhelming sorrow. Disappointment and anguish walked hand in hand, you hadn’t expected that. You never expected to hear the man you had loved so much as a teenager, the feelings still lingering in your chest, never truly overcome, say something like that. In the silence that existed only between you and Jungkook, you couldn’t believe it.

Staring at him with glistening eyes, but not from emotion, from disappointment, you felt a ridiculous sting. You wanted to get away from him, away from that place; you no longer worried about Juria. She could handle herself, and a simple message from you saying “going home ;)” would be enough.

You had never felt so stupid.

“Okay.” — Your voice came out so quiet. Jungkook shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the music and the noise surrounding you, but somehow, impossibly, he did.

He realized the mess he had made — he promised himself Yoongi could actually kill him — but it was too late. Jeon called your name, his voice a little gentler, almost like he needed a pair of puppy ears drooping to match it. — “No, Jungkook.” — He tried to get your attention, reaching out and touching your arm, wanting to step closer and apologize, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter anymore.

You refused to feel his touch, rejecting Jungkook’s attempt to get closer to you. You began to feel nauseous, a strong repulsion building in your stomach, disgust and anger toward him. Your chest was racing, and you could no longer endure all the noise and the crowd around you. At that moment, you weren’t thinking about finding Haein to try to lift your mood, continue where you had left off, and distract yourself. You just wanted to go home; you shouldn’t have gone out in the first place. That was the truth.

And so, you left; without looking back, without giving Jungkook a chance. He remained standing there, not saying another word, not daring to stop you; watching you disappear among the people in the room. It didn’t take long before Jeon could no longer see you.

For the first time that night, unlike what had happened in Gwangju, Jungkook felt exactly as he deserved to feel: like a complete idiot.

#5 GIRL, YOU MUST BE FROM THE OTHER SIDE.

Jungkook cruelly hated the bitter feeling, the pure misfortune that was growing in his chest; it was something fierce and overwhelming at the same time. That feeling, in the very few times he had experienced it, had followed him before but never like this, never with this intensity. He had ruined everything.

Fuck, he had really fucked everything up.

It had been five days since what happened at the party; five days of ignored messages, declined calls, and changes to your work schedule. Obviously, a lot had happened. — Well, he couldn’t really complain, after all, he had neither the moral high ground nor any dignity left. — For five days, he ended every conversation asking himself how many times someone had to type "i’m sorry" before the words completely lost their meaning.

Jungkook had tried. — In fact, he was still trying.

“She’s still hurt, Jungkook.” Or, “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Fuck.

Thinking back on the messages from his best friend, Jimin had repeated those words three different times. He wanted Jungkook to keep facing just how ridiculously he had behaved that night. After finding out what had happened, your brother greeted him with carefully restrained hostility, weighing everything between you and Jungkook.

Jimin knew, better than anyone, what was really going on with his best friend. Honestly, Jungkook couldn’t talk to Jimin the way he normally did anymore; the only person who ever saw this remorseful, melancholic version of him was Yoongi.

The only piece of advice he had actually followed — after ignoring countless others — was to find some way, any way, to talk to you. Still, Jungkook finally worked up the courage to ask Jimin something important; something that involved you.

And so, Jungkook stood in front of your front door, desperately wishing to put an end to the feeling weighing on his chest. He hadn’t expected that thought to sound so selfish. The truth was, he wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice. More than anything, he wanted to see you.

As he rang the doorbell, he felt a knot form in his stomach. It was strange, sending a slight shiver through him. Anxiety and nervousness settled in; he knew he was in the red zone. He lightly tapped the tip of his shoe against the ground while waiting for someone to answer.

Jungkook wanted to check his phone, but he knew that would only make things worse, and he was grateful he’d left it on Do Not Disturb. No one came to the door, so he rang the bell a second time. He wasn’t impatient; for you, he could have waited until the end of the next day if he had to.

Were you really going to avoid him forever?

While the doorbell rang, you were in the kitchen. You had gotten out of the shower not long ago and were looking forward to resting after another exhausting day at the magazine. — The new head of the photography department was awful. — On top of disrupting your team’s meeting, she had deleted several files containing photos and product previews for one of the company’s campaigns; she was a complete nightmare.

By the second ring, you were already at the front door, wondering if it might be Juria, you had grown used to the redhead dropping by unexpectedly or Jimin. To be sure, you looked through the peephole. — It was him.

Jungkook was standing at your door.

Tragic, and so utterly pitiful. — You had learned to recognize his name flashing across your phone screen and ignore it before reading a single message; when that wasn’t enough, you temporarily muted his contact. — On the bright side, it had worked but seeing him there was different. — You knew Jeon had stopped by your workplace a few times, including the day he first came back, because your coworkers kept mentioning him. This was so much harder; in the end, it seemed you weren’t going to get rid of Jungkook anytime soon.

After five days of trying to get your head straight.

“What are you doing here?” — You opened the door just enough to see him through a narrow gap. Funny, it felt like a pathetic case of déjà vu, because those were the exact same words you had said to him that day.

Jungkook stood frozen, swallowing hard. For a second, neither of you said a word. You looked exhausted, worn down and not because you were sleepy, but because of him. That hurt far more than he could have ever expected or imagined.

“We need to talk.”

“No.” — The answer came instantly, as if it had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for days, without a trace of hesitation. Jungkook took a deep breath and bit down on his lip piercing, an unbearable habit, both for himself and for anyone watching him. He said your name like a plea, the regret in his voice genuine, but you refused to give in. — “You already said everything you wanted to say, remember?”

He wished he had the chance to forget it all, to erase what had happened, to erase the fact that he had hurt you.

“I didn’t.” — He shook his head in denial. You remained unmoved by Jungkook’s words, refusing to give him the chance to explain himself or say what he needed to say. Why hadn’t you just closed the door? — “Please.” — You opened the door a little wider, not to invite him in, but to make it clear that he needed to leave. — “I want to apologize.”

You remained silent, allowing Jungkook to continue, but he expected more, and that frustrated him. He was genuinely trying, and Jungkook had never been good at trying when it came to things like this. He was doing everything he could not to appear vulnerable, preferring to hide behind anger instead. He knew it wasn’t the best choice.

“Did you come here to apologize, or to prove you were right?”

“Fuck, no.” — Jungkook rested his tattooed hand against the door, applying just enough pressure for you to notice. He wanted to come in, but he didn’t dare ask. He looked genuinely remorseful. He hated feeling this way, as if he needed your attention, your hand to steady him. — “I was angry. I didn’t mean to…”

“That doesn’t change what you said.” — Your voice was so strained, unable to hide the frustration behind it. You kept your eyes on him, catching every little movement the older man made. You hated the fact that, even in the middle of your anger, you still found yourself admiring him. Jungkook quietly whispered, “I know,” his gaze dropping to the floor. — “Then why did you say it, Jungkook?”

Jungkook hated the way you said his name now. It bothered him like burning embers dragged across his skin; he had never imagined it could affect him like that. He had never imagined the two of you would end up in a situation like this. Your voice, once so gentle and soft, now carried a fragile blend of indignation and sadness.

Why? — That was the question. the only one. And Jungkook hated it because there wasn’t a simple answer, because the truth was humiliating: because he had seen another man looking at you like that; because he had felt something he neither wanted nor should have felt; because he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else getting to know the parts of you he had always wanted to know himself.

“Because i care about you.”

“That doesn’t justify anything, Jungkook.”

“I always tried to ignore this shit. You were younger, you still are, you’re my best friend’s little sister, and i knew i shouldn’t have been looking at you that way."

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening with shock and anguish. Jungkook blinked several times, the hand resting on the door pressing harder against it while the other ran through his hair, leaving it even more disheveled. His voice was steady, and somehow, that made it worse.

“Then i left, and you grew up, i kept pretending nothing had changed. That’s it.”

You stared at him in stunned disbelief, your expression caught somewhere between shock and confusion. You had never expected to hear a confession like that or those words from him. Your face betrayed an emotion that was impossible to read.

Part of Jungkook worried about how you were taking it, while the other part no longer cared. He just wanted to let out what had been trapped in his chest for years. — Neither of you had imagined this conversation would ever happen. — Honestly, you struggled to believe it was real, that Jungkook’s words were true instead of some cruel illusion. You didn’t know what to expect anymore and yet you didn’t feel like he was lying.

Why hadn’t you just slammed the door in his face and carried on as if none of this had ever happened? It would have been so much easier.

“Are you telling me that…”

“I’m saying you drive me crazy. You confuse the hell out of me.” — He wasn’t joking. Jungkook looked so serious, so resolute, that it made you swallow hard and open the damn door a little wider. — “You get under my skin.”

“You’re so arrogant.”

"I know."

“You hurt me, Jungkook. Do you really think you can just show up here and fix everything?” — With the door open, he could get a broader glimpse of the entrance to your home. It was small and cozy, the kind of place that radiated warmth and safety. It reminded him of you. Jungkook’s eyes swept over the room before returning to yours.

“No.” — He answered immediately. — “I don’t.” — For the first time, perhaps in all the years you had known Jungkook, you saw something different in him; fear. Not much, but enough. He was carefully choosing his words when, in truth, he wanted to tell you everything without a single filter or restraint. — “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

The silence between you and Jungkook was cruel, painfully so, merciless. — Your stomach churned, leaving you feeling strangely unsettled. You didn’t know what to say; you couldn’t think of anything. Funny, considering you had always been ready with a sharp remark or something to provoke him. You parted your lips, hoping to say something, to answer him, but closed them again almost immediately.

Jungkook took two slow steps forward, crossing onto the tiled floor of your entryway. He was so close now. He seemed like an entirely different man from the one who had argued with you at the party.

Less defensive, more honest. He was still stubborn, still proud but, at the very least, he was honest.

“Then why does it feel like you’re angry at me?” — You asked, unable to keep the sorrow out of your voice. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. It felt as though you were the one who should be ashamed.

The question caught him off guard because you had noticed; of course you had. You had always noticed everything about Jungkook, though it was never something you took pride in. Before answering, he let out a humorless laugh.

“I’m angry at myself…” — Your name left his lips with the same gentleness as always. Ever since he’d met you, there had always been a quiet tenderness in the way Jeon said your name, and you had always loved that about him. — “I spent so long trying to keep all of this under control… and in the end, all i managed to do was hurt you.”

As his words faded, your gaze dropped to Jungkook’s lips for a single second, a fleeting moment of vulnerability, of quiet openness.

Just one second, yet the two of you noticed it, and that was more than enough. — The same hand that had been resting against the door came up to cradle your face, the cool metal of the ring on his index finger brushing against your skin. — He held you so carefully. — His fingertips moved slowly across your cheek, as though asking permission to be there. Jeon waited for you, giving you every chance to pull away if that was what you wanted. His breath began to mingle with yours, and he made no attempt to rush, not a single movement; he kept waiting for the slightest sign that you wanted him to stop.

But, perhaps to Jungkook’s surprise, you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him back; quite the opposite. Closing your eyes for a brief moment, exhausted from fighting your feelings any longer, you gave him all the permission he needed and so, Jungkook kissed you.

At first, it was hesitant. Just the faintest brush of lips, almost shy but the moment you gripped the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt and fully returned the kiss, all the distance the two of you had created over the past few days melted away, as though it had never existed.

Jungkook kissed you with unmistakable care, savoring every second, wanting to commit the feeling to memory. Your lips moved together slowly, unhurriedly, while your tongues met in a gentle, intimate kiss that gradually deepened. At the same time, both of your hands instinctively searched for closeness, for the comfort you had been denying each other for far too long.

Jungkook’s hand remained cupping your face, his thumb gently stroking your skin, while his other hand rested on your waist, pulling you closer. You could still feel the remnants of his anger lingering beneath the surface, intertwined with something else entirely, raw desire. Even so, he deepened the kiss with unmistakable care, silently showing you that, this time, he wasn’t trying to control anything.

The need to pull away from each other was almost cruel, but neither of you could complain. Silence settled between you for a few seconds, no, for a few long minutes. You were both stunned, especially you, not because of the kiss itself, but because of its intensity because of everything you were trying to process all at once. — He rested his forehead against yours, your breathing still uneven as the two of you silently tried to find your rhythm again.

You had never imagined finding yourself in a situation like this.

That didn’t mean you disliked it or that you had anything to complain about. — You had allowed yourself this moment; you had let him kiss you, let him touch you and part of you wanted more. — Jungkook had spoiled you already, and that wasn’t your fault.

He took your hand, his fingertips tracing slow circles across your palm before lacing his fingers through yours. The contrast in the size of your hands was impossible not to admire. A shiver ran through you, catching you completely off guard.

The closeness between the two of you felt so new — almost too new — and strangely unfamiliar. At the same time, it felt like something that should have happened a long, long time ago.

Of course, despite the small hesitations on both sides, your steps naturally carried you farther into your home. Whatever was about to happen didn’t belong out in the open or where your privacy could be invaded.

Without paying attention to where he was going, Jungkook kissed you again with unmistakable urgency. He felt addicted to your lips, to the taste of your mouth, as though he were committing the most beautiful of sins. He kissed you with longing and hunger. Shrugging off his leather jacket, he let it fall to the floor as if it hadn’t cost a fortune, then slipped off his shoes.

His hands never left your body; for the oldest, it was simply impossible to let go of you.

“Jungkook, fuck it…” — You mumbled between the wet kisses, the kind that created an unpleasant mixture of shared breaths and saliva, trying to scold him. He was desperate, completely out of control, and could only understand his own desire; you couldn’t really blame him, he had dreamed of this. — “Ggkie…!” — Jungkook liked that nickname and had never hidden it; it had been a long time since the last time he heard it. It wasn’t difficult to notice the way his lips curved into a quick smile as he whispered, “my beautiful”.

The leather belt joined the other pieces and accessories from the clothes Jungkook had discarded on the floor; he liked practicality, simple and straightforward. It was enough for the moment, he needed to breathe and keep himself composed, or at least try to. Jungkook’s large, tattooed hands grabbed your thighs before giving them a small tap and signaling for you to make a little jump, and not that it was difficult, of course, he lifted you onto his lap; your legs wrapped around his waist, fitting perfectly against him. Through the thin, delicate fabric of the shorts you were wearing, you could feel his arousal. It didn’t bother you, not even a little, but it sent a few sensations through your body and made you crave more closeness.

You could actually stain, wet the tip of Jungkook’s pants; the thought itself managed to fascinate you. It was bizarre.

“Please…” — He breathed, biting his lip as he looked at you with half-lidded eyes, completely overwhelmed by the moment. Jungkook felt almost ridiculous, like a teenager experiencing something for the first time, and he knew it. — “Don’t tell me your bedroom is too far away.” — His words came out quickly; he didn’t have the patience for anything beyond what was necessary.

Shaking your head, you guided him toward the room while he carried you, his steps following your directions.

Thinking about it, he had never been inside your home before; this would be his first impression. Even though he had seen and liked some of the photos you had taken in different parts of the house, that didn’t really count. — There was a first impression for everything.

Jungkook’s somewhat blind, heavy, and clumsy steps led him to the room he was looking for. He would have liked to admire your room, to take in every detail; perhaps, in the future, he might have the chance to see it more leisurely and with your permission. — The tattooed man laid you down on your bed, hovering over your body; Jungkook’s lips moved away from yours, etting them rest, given the visible swelling and redness and trailed down your neck. Licks, light sucks, and bites, which took her by surprise, were left upon your skin; you was no fool and realized that Jungkook wanted to leave marks on you. — Not to mention the older one’s leg moving between your thighs, specifically, his knee making contact with your intimate area, covered only by your shorts; the movements were light, slow, and torturous for you.

Every moan disguised as a sigh brought a wicked smile from Jungkook's lips.

"I used to dream about this, you know?" — He murmured, his voice hoarse and tinged with a hint of desperation; it was dry. Jungkook swallowed hard. — "Fuck, i dreamed about it so damn much…"— He didn't lie, there was anger and truth in his words; there should be shame, but he didn't know the feeling.

That didn't mean he didn't feel the courage to tell you all the things he'd ever thought about doing to you or about you.

His hands slid down to the hem of your shirt, signaling you intent to take it off and do exactly what he wanted. Since you was at home, there was no need to wear a bra or anything of the sort, it was a feeling of freedom; well, Jeon was certainly grateful for that. — He swore he noticed a trivial smile on the man's lips, similar to someone receiving a gift.— Jungkook's face moved away from yours, leaning down to the level of your breasts and it wasn't long before his mouth latched onto one of your nipples. He was sucking it hard, he was hungry, he wanted to taste it; Jungkook always paid extra attention to boobs, he didn't want to consider it an obsession, even if it seemed like it.— His tongue flicked against the sensitive tip of your nipple, the wet, incredibly loud sounds echoing through the bedroom; you knew your panties were soaked, and you could have come from that alone.

Fuck, you could cum — easily — with Jungkook sucking on your tits.

You didn't even notice that, with his hands free, Jungkook gripped the waistband of your shorts, along with your panties, and wasted no time pulling them down to the middle of your thighs; it was only temporary, as he was soon going to toss that garment onto the damn floor. Jungkook kept kissing your nipple, his chin slick with saliva, while you were delirious with pleasure, running your fingers through his dark hair; a silent plea for more. It was something you had always dreamed of.

With quick, practiced movements, the middle and ring fingers of the bastard’s left hand parted your pussy, making sure to touch the entrance, which was already soaking wet. He teased the idea of ​​penetration, pressing just the thick tip of his middle finger against the opening and sending a spasm through your body. — It had been quite a while since you’d had sex; you couldn't even quite recall the last time but you were certainly grateful for the state you were in now. — Jungkook’s finger slid in easily; you were well-lubricated, and even with your nipple in his mouth, Jeon was salivating.

"Uhuh…" — He grunted, tugging at your nipple before releasing it with a wet, dirty snap, then licked and played with the sensitive, saliva-soaked tip; — "You were really waiting for this, weren't you?" — He wanted to wring that confession out of you, even though he was in no position to judge right now. You had always wanted him, always. Jungkook bit his lip, unable to suppress the smile forming; his face was flushed, matching the color of your own lips, lips you had bitten yourself. — "My beautiful girl." — He kissed the swell of your tits. — "Come on, lift up a little…" — He gripped your thighs to steady you, and you obeyed, making room for him on the bed as your head rested against the headboard.

As intended, he removed your shorts and panties and tossed them aside, not caring where they landed. Jungkook left you completely naked, at the mercy of his presence. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of shyness — not in a negative or derogatory sense — before the man you had been in love with since your teenage years. Your legs drew inward slightly, your knees touching for a brief moment.

"Don't be shy, princess." — He whispered sweetly as he moved closer to your thighs. Jungkook’s gaze was affectionate yet tinged with desire and lust; he locked onto you effortlessly, without even trying. — "That doesn't suit you." — He clicked his tongue, parting your thighs and letting his eyes drift down to the wet sheen of your pussy. — "That’s not the girl i know."

You would like to hate this man.

"Remember we haven't seen each other in years." — You summoned the strength and the sheer will to try and counter his remark; you were right was true and very obvious. Jungkook laughed, at the same time, trailing short kisses down your inner thigh. You always had some answer on the tip of your tongue, the difference is that, in the past, you would struggle to try to talk, finish a bold sentence for whoever was provoking you.

"Of course, Aegi."

In that very instant — or rather, mere seconds later — Jungkook’s head was nestled comfortably between your thighs. You could have smothered him, and for Jeon, that would have been a dream come true. The tattooed man’s lips, accentuated by his piercing, and his tongue roamed over your pussy with an animalistic hunger, sucking your clitoris firmly but without excess or any hint of brutality. Jungkook reveled in the taste, kissing your pussy; it was filthy, delicious, and uninhibited. At times, he would suck on one of your folds, give it a gentle tug, and let it snap back with a loud pop. His tongue continued its up-and-down movements, grazing your opening.

You had goosebumps; waves of heat and tiny electric shocks rippled through you, it was surreal. You knew you weren't being dramatic or exaggerating, yet you felt on the verge of unraveling. Electric tingles shivered across your stomach and deep within your core, while your breasts ached with arousal, pure, unadulterated desire; seeking relief or attempting t you squeezed your still-damp, hypersensitive nipples with your fingers. Then, you felt your clitoris being gently sucked and tugged.

"Ngh,. Jungkook!" — You pressed the handsome young man's head between your legs; he felt the pressure you were exerting, yet made no move to stop it. Jungkook was kissing your pussy ravenously, as if he hadn't tasted it in years, driven by a hunger he wanted to satisfy; it seemed as though he wanted to devour you whole. — "Just like that, please…!" — Jungkook’s ears burned hot and red, flushed by the sound of your moans and the way you spoke his name, always with a soft, whimpering plea at the end as you called out for him.

"So delicious." — He growled between licks and quick sucks; even the tip of his nose was smeared with saliva and your juices. Jungkook found himself addicted even to your scent. — "Oh, princess…" — A laugh rumbled in his chest as he sucked your clitoris. — "You're going to let me eat you again, aren't you?" — Yes, yes, of course. Of course you’d let him.

In your desperation, you couldn't string together a coherent sentence; you could only utter Jungkook’s name, the one thing filling your mind and the only thing you could say out loud. Deep down, you wanted to match the filthy words he was directing at you, but you lacked the breath and the experience for it; still, you agreed with everything. Jungkook could do whatever he wanted with you.

He didn't use his fingers at all —even though he wanted to like hell — because, of his own accord, Jungkook wanted and preferred to eat your pussy. Using only his mouth and tongue seemed more fitting for an apology, too. Suddenly, he felt his scalp heat up and sting from a sharp tug of your hands, and your hips ground against his face; it was clear you was close to coming in Jungkook's mouth. Your body was trembling, a sensation akin to freezing, and spasms began to set in; your mouth gave voice to moans and the name of your brother's best friend.

You came in Jungkook's mouth.

Jungkook’s chin, lips, and nose were wet and likely glistening in the room's dim light and the angle at which he was positioned. He inhaled deeply to catch your scent. Without hesitation, he ran his tongue in one long, continuous stroke across your pussy and sucked on your clitoris once more; you nearly kicked him, involuntary spasms were to blame. Even though you couldn't see his face clearly, you knew you were smeared all over that damn man’s face. Naturally, he would be licking his lips to savor every last drop.

It all happened so fast. — In truth, you were in a daze; you hadn't fully regained your energy. — Jungkook was shirtless, revealing the countless tattoos scattered across his arm; one colorful design looked like a painting that extended up to the start of his shoulder, he had covered up some of his other tattoos with that specific one. You longed to touch them, to trace them with your fingers. He had also stripped off his pants and underwear; it was a level playing field now. — How the hell had he taken them off so quickly?

"I don't have any, ah.." — Jungkook murmured with a little shyness in his voice. Over your body, he distributed kisses on your neck, a few quick licks and you felt like you were in heaven, you knew you deserved it. — ".,no condom, i didn't know that.." — He hadn't known you two would end up having sex after the apology.

Shit, you felt the hardness, in addition to the weight, and pulse of Jungkook's cock passing, lightly, into your pussy; specifically, his glans scraping his folds. He was so big, not to mention thick; it was ridiculous to try to compare it with your casual affairs.

"Don't worry," — You soothed the oldest. You would take the pill, but you really should have accepted the box of condoms Juria wanted to buy for you; damn it all. — "Ggkie." — Your lips fit on Jungkook's lips, you were addicted to his mouth. You liked the way he caressed your tongue with his; it was similar to licking a lollipop. Your tongue was sucked, and you could moan with it.

As he kissed you, Jungkook penetrated you slowly and carefully. — He knew you weren't a virgin, thanks to a conversation he’d had with Juria while waiting for your brother to go out, and he couldn't deny the pang of jealousy and curiosity that had pierced his chest. — Every inch slid inside you little by little; it was a maddening, exquisite torture that left you craving more. The burning sensation was undeniable yet bearable, and you could feel every ridge grazing your warm, yielding walls; wet, squelching sounds echoed from where you were being filled. Your walls heated his cock and pulsed around it as Jungkook moved his hips, thrusting deeper into you.

At times, your teeth clashed against Jungkook’s lips—and his against yours, too. It was a desperate kind of kissing. You felt so small; his large, sturdy frame loomed over you, while your hands roamed over his muscular, tattooed arms, leaving faint scratch marks on his skin. — Damn, he was huge; in every sense. — You dug your fingernails into his shoulders, feeling him shift the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Are you going to take a piece out of me, sweetie?" — The false pity, compassion for himself, was easy to detect in Jungkook's voice. His wounds were stinging as the sweat mingled with them, yet he wouldn't dare complain or ask you to stop.

In response, your moans were a gift to Jungkook’s ears; his name escaped your lips amidst gasps and ragged breaths. Your furrowed brows and closed eyes betrayed the pleasure washing over you. You could feel his thick, prominent head striking that special spot inside you so deliciously, it was utterly delightful, magical. — That wet sound, so visceral, yet so pleasurable, echoed between your bodies, filling the room.

Shit, Jungkook growled, slamming his hips against yours with greater force.

"You can handle it, sweetheart." — Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours, brushing his nose against yours and your cheeks; he was sweet. He always had been with you. — With every thrust, Jungkook’s cock stretched you further, settling deep into your warm, yielding walls. — "Like that…"

Jungkook’s hands, gripping your thighs, spread your legs a little wider to create new space, allowing for deeper thrusts that drove you to the brink of madness. You could feel his heavy balls slapping against your skin, keeping rhythm with the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies colliding. Your legs trembled and quivered around Jungkook, and you moaned wildly for him as a sensation of burning, tingling, and fluttering heat rose in your stomach. — It was obvious. — Jungkook groaned and growled as he realized it, continuing his thrusts without breaking the rhythm, whispering a mix of sweet nothings and filthy talk laced with profanity.

So, you came. — Your body kept trembling; you felt cold and hot at the same time; not to mention the few small tears that threatened to fall and eventually did, wetting your cheek. Jungkook’s name escaped your lips in a low, almost inaudible murmur, yet he heard it. — The older kept moving his hips, maintaining the same rhythm, fighting against the way your walls tightened around and vibrated against his cock.

"Gongjunim," — Jungkook murmured as he kissed you completely clumsily, sucking on your lips and tongue. — "You're so good to me." — He bit your chin, chuckling mischievously; his low growl vibrated through your body. — "You always have been, haven't you?"

Jeon’s breathing grew ragged, and his moans, along with the force and speed of his hips, seemed to burn against your senses; the sound of the headboard banging might have embarrassed you, had you cared. Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours again, keeping his eyes open to admire you despite his blurred, hazy vision; he looked wild, yet godlike. Amidst those final hip thrusts, and driving deeper with satisfaction, Jungkook came inside you, filling you completely with his seed.

Even after a short while, roughly two minutes and a few seconds, Jungkook remained inside you; he could feel your pussy tightening around him at times, and he loved the sensation. — He was heated; who could blame him? — All the while, he kissed and caressed you with tenderness and affection. Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of Jungkook’s kisses against your skin and the rhythm of your breathing.

"It's funny…" — Your voice was weak and a bit dry; you might look for water in a moment and it caught Jungkook's attention. Those dark, brilliant eyes, looking a little sleepy at the moment, gazed at you with curiosity.

"What?" — He asked, planting a lingering kiss on your forehead.

"…that i spent years trying to forget you…" — Your words came out as a whisper, something secret. — "…and it took just a few minutes to ruin all my pitiful effort."

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smile, making his piercing glint in the dim light; it was a pleasant, affectionate, and genuine smile. The classic smile that always greeted you whenever he saw you. It was an adorable and slightly peculiar confession in Jungkook's eyes; he chuckled at the words and pressed his lips to the tip of your nose.

"Thank goodness."

[jikookncity]

Criminal Taehyung x Reader (Smut)

Y/n has the best most filthy hookup of her life with a mysteriously hot guy, only realizing he's a criminal weeks later when she hears his voice on the news...too bad he comes back for more...

This is the same as my criminal Haechan story, this is a BTS ver!

Full ver: 7.2k, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, oral sex, semi-public oral sex

-------------

The bar was alive in that kind of way it only got on weekends—dim lighting, low bass thrumming through the floorboards, bodies pressed together in slow, lazy movements on the dance floor. Y/N sat at the counter, one leg crossed over the other, nursing a drink she didn’t even like. The ice clinked softly every time she swirled the glass, her eyes lazily scanning the crowd, pretending she wasn’t bored out of her mind.

She didn’t notice him at first. Not until the air seemed to shift—subtle, but undeniable—like someone had just entered the room and taken up more than their fair share of it. Her gaze flicked toward the door, and that’s when she saw him.

He didn’t move like the others. Didn’t shove his way through the crowd, didn’t glance around to see who was watching. He knew people were watching. He was tall, lean, dressed in all black—dark jacket over a fitted shirt that did nothing to hide the cut of his frame. His hair was dark, messy in a way that looked intentional, and his eyes… sharp, unreadable, scanning the room until they landed right on her.

It was like being hit with a jolt of static.

She looked away first. She didn’t know why. But a few moments later, she felt the empty barstool beside her shift.

“You always look this bored,” he asked, voice low and smooth, “or is tonight special?”

She turned her head, finding him much closer than she expected, his arm resting casually on the counter, his eyes locked on hers like he already knew her answer.

“Depends on who’s asking,” she said, matching his tone.

His mouth curved into something between a smirk and a dare. “Taehyung.”

He didn’t offer a hand. Just a name, like it was enough.

The bartender appeared, and without looking away from her, Taehyung ordered something—something expensive, judging by the slight raise of the bartender’s brow. Then he turned the glass toward her instead of himself.

“You strike me as someone who could use something stronger than… whatever that is,” he said, nodding at her drink.

Normally, she would have bristled. But there was something about him that made her lean into it instead of away.

One drink became two. Two became three. By the time they were leaning in close, shoulders brushing, his hand resting dangerously near her thigh, she’d stopped wondering why her pulse wouldn’t slow down.

When he finally said, “Wanna get out of here?” it wasn’t even a question.

They didn’t speak much on the walk to the hotel. The silence wasn’t awkward—if anything, it was charged. Y/N’s heels clicked against the pavement in quick rhythm, but Taehyung’s steps were slower, confident, like he knew exactly where this night was going and didn’t need to rush.

By the time the elevator doors slid shut, his hand was already at her waist, pulling her in until her back met the mirrored wall. His breath was warm against her ear when he spoke.

“You’ve been looking at me like you want me to ruin you all night,” he murmured, his tone low, dangerous.

Her lips parted, but she didn’t get the chance to answer—his mouth was on hers, hard and hungry. His hands roamed like he had every right to touch her, sliding over her hips, gripping the curve of her ass through her dress. She gasped into the kiss when he squeezed, and he used the opening to lick into her mouth, deep and claiming.

When the elevator dinged, he pulled back just enough to smirk at her swollen lips. “Room 804. Move.”

She barely remembered the walk down the hall before they were inside, the door slamming shut behind them.

Taehyung was on her instantly, spinning her so her back hit the door, his hands braced on either side of her head. “You like giving control away, sweetheart?”

Her pulse jumped. “Maybe.”

“That’s not an answer.” His hand slid up her thigh, dragging the hem of her dress with it. “Say yes.”

“Yes,” she breathed, and his grin widened like he’d been waiting for it.

The dress was gone before she could think about modesty, pooling at her feet while he drank in the sight of her. He didn’t bother hiding the hunger in his eyes as he pressed her against the door again, his thumb grazing her already-damp panties.

“Look at you,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “So wet for me already. You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” she said again, her voice breaking slightly.

“Not good enough.” He hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face up until their eyes locked. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

That earned her a kiss so deep it stole the air from her lungs. He pulled her toward the bed, stripping off his own jacket and shirt on the way. His body was lean, toned, and every movement screamed cocky self-assurance.

When she reached for his belt, he caught her wrists, pushing her down onto the mattress. “Uh-uh. You don’t touch unless I say you can.”

He knelt between her thighs, dragging her panties down slowly, like he wanted her to squirm. When he tossed them aside, he spread her knees wide, his gaze dark and heavy as it roamed over her.

“Open up for me, sweetheart.”

The words made heat pool low in her belly. She obeyed, and he smirked like she’d just handed him the win. His fingers were on her first—slow at the start, teasing—then rougher, curling deep until her back arched off the bed.

“Such a good little thing,” he murmured, watching her writhe. “You take my fingers so well. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.”

When she was a mess beneath him, he finally freed himself, the sight of him making her mouth go dry. He didn’t rush, just stroked himself lazily while looking her over like she was something he owned already.

Then he was over her, one hand braced beside her head, the other guiding himself to her entrance. “This is going to ruin you for anyone else.”

And he was right. The thrust was deep, hard, making her cry out. He fucked her like he had something to prove, his hips snapping against hers, each thrust punctuated by filthy praise and taunts—telling her how tight she was, how perfect she felt, how she was made for him to use.

When she clawed at his back, he caught her wrists again, pinning them above her head. “Stay still. Take it. That’s all you have to do.”

Her moans filled the room, mixing with the slap of skin and his ragged breathing. He bent down to bite her neck, licking over the mark after. “Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes—oh god—”

“Do it. I want to feel you fall apart around me.”

When she did, it was intense, shattering, her body tightening around him in pulsing waves. He fucked her through it, groaning when he spilled inside her, his thrusts finally slowing.

He kissed her once more—slow this time—before pulling back, that smirk returning. “Told you. Ruined.”

Y/N woke to an empty bed.

For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the dent in the pillow where his head had been. The sheets smelled like him—clean soap, faint cologne, and something darker she couldn’t quite place. The memories from last night flashed back in sharp, heated fragments: the elevator, his hands, his voice in her ear telling her exactly what to do.

Her thighs ached in the best way.

Rolling onto her back, she caught sight of the clock. Late. She groaned, dragging herself up and finding her dress crumpled on the floor. There was no note. No phone number. Just the echo of his smirk burned into her brain.

By the time she slid into a booth at the little café near her apartment, her best friend, Mina, was already there—iced coffee in hand and a knowing grin on her face.

“You’re late,” Mina said, eyes dropping to Y/N’s oversized hoodie and messy hair. “And… you look like you just rolled out of bed. From someone else’s bed.”

Y/N bit her lip, sliding into the seat. “Okay, so… I might have had a night.”

Mina’s eyes widened. “Tell me everything.”

Y/N leaned in, lowering her voice even though the café wasn’t crowded. “Met him at the bar. Tall, hot, this stupid cocky smirk that should have been illegal. He bought me a drink and—” She stopped, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Mina, it was… the best sex of my life.”

“Oh my god.” Mina covered her mouth, then dropped her hand. “Details. Now.”

Y/N looked around once more before continuing. “He was… rough. But perfect. Said all the right things, like he could read my mind. At one point—” She paused, shivering at the memory. “At one point he looked at me and said ‘open up for me, sweetheart’. And I did. Like instantly. I didn’t even think.”

Mina fanned herself dramatically. “Okay, keep going.”

“He wouldn’t let me touch him unless he said so,” Y/N admitted, smirking a little. “And when I came, he—god—he told me he wanted to feel me fall apart around him. It was filthy. I loved every second of it.”

Mina shook her head, grinning. “So when’s round two?”

Y/N’s smirk faded just a little. “That’s the thing… when I woke up, he was gone. No note. No number. Nothing.”

Mina raised a brow. “Mysterious. Maybe he’ll pop up again.”

Y/N stirred her coffee, trying to hide how much she hoped so. “Yeah… maybe.”

But even as they switched topics, she knew she’d recognize that smirk anywhere—and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find him, or if she should run the other way if she did.

The sizzle of garlic in the pan filled her small kitchen, the scent curling warm and familiar through the air. Y/N moved lazily between the counter and the stove, wooden spoon in hand, humming faintly to herself. The TV was on in the living room, volume low—background noise she barely paid attention to most nights.

“…in other news, police are still investigating the underground street racing gang suspected in a string of high-end car thefts across the city…”

She half-listened, tossing the pasta into the pot, steam clouding up in front of her.

“…the group is believed to be highly organized, with members able to bypass advanced security systems in minutes. Authorities have yet to identify any suspects, but earlier this week, surveillance audio captured what they believe to be the gang’s leader…”

Her hand froze on the spoon.

“…the voice was recorded whispering something to himself while working to unlock a car. Investigators say it could be a personal quirk—possibly a code phrase. We warn viewers, the clip is faint but clear.”

She turned toward the living room without meaning to, her brows knitting together as the reporter continued.

And then—

“Open up for me, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t grainy enough to hide the tone. That deep, low rumble. The way the word sweetheart curled at the edges, dripping with command.

Y/N’s whole body went rigid, the steam from the stove curling around her as her mind stuttered.

No. No, it couldn’t be—

But the moment it hit her ears, her body remembered. The weight of him above her. The heat of his breath against her ear. That exact same line, whispered while she lay beneath him, trembling, her back arching into his touch.

Her knees felt unsteady.

The anchor kept speaking, explaining how police hoped the clip might lead to tips from the public, but she barely heard a word. Her heart thudded in her chest as they played it again.

“Open up for me, sweetheart.”

She stumbled toward the couch, grabbing the remote with shaky fingers, rewinding. Playing it again. And again. Every repetition sent a sharp shiver down her spine.

It was him. It was Taehyung.

She sank onto the couch, her dinner forgotten in the kitchen, the only thing she could hear was his voice filling the quiet apartment—over and over—until it was impossible to deny the truth.

The man who’d given her the best night of her life was the leader of a gang the police couldn’t catch.

And she knew that voice better than anyone.

The garage smelled like motor oil and adrenaline. The hum of a stripped-down Nissan idled low in the background, the hood up, exposed wiring glinting under the harsh white lights. Taehyung was crouched beside it, a smudge of grease on his forearm, his focus razor-sharp on the delicate lock bypass he’d been perfecting.

The metallic click of the door opening announced Jimin before his voice did.

“They got your voice on tape,” Jimin said flatly, stepping inside.

Taehyung didn’t look up right away, just kept working, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Cops get lots of things on tape. Doesn’t mean they know what they’re listening to.”

Jimin leaned against the workbench, arms crossed. “This time, they’re playing it on the damn news.”

That made Taehyung pause. Slowly, he straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “Let me hear it.”

Jimin pulled out his phone, scrolling, then hit play.

“Open up for me, sweetheart.”

The voice—his voice—rolled out into the garage, low and intimate even in the grainy recording.

And Taehyung froze.

Because he remembered saying it. Not here. Not to himself over a lock. But to her. Weeks ago, her knees open under his hands, her eyes glassy with need, the little breathless yes she’d given him right after.

Heat flared low in his gut, memory slamming into him so hard it stole his breath.

Her soft gasps as he slid into her. The way she squeezed around him, so fucking tight it had him gritting his teeth. The sight of her arching under him, mouth falling open as she obeyed every filthy word he gave her.

He hadn’t been able to hook up with anyone since. Not for lack of trying—he’d had offers. But every time he touched someone else, it felt wrong. They weren’t her. They didn’t make his control slip the way she did.

He tossed the rag onto the bench and grabbed his jacket.

Jimin blinked. “Where the hell are you going?”

“Out,” Taehyung said, already heading for the door.

“That’s it? You’re not even gonna—”

“Lock up the garage when you’re done,” he cut in, not slowing.

Jimin’s voice followed him out. “You’re not telling me something.”

Taehyung didn’t bother answering. He was already in the driver’s seat, engine roaring to life. His mind wasn’t on the job, or the risk, or the cops—it was on Y/N. On the way she’d looked up at him that night. On the sound she’d made when he told her to open up for him.

And if she’d seen that news clip…

He pressed harder on the gas. He needed to see her.

It was nearly midnight when the knock came.

Y/N froze halfway through brushing her teeth, the sound echoing through her quiet apartment. No one came by this late. No one except—

Her pulse quickened. She didn’t need to look through the peephole. There was only one person who would knock like that—three firm raps, a pause, then two more.

She pulled on her robe, tying the belt tighter as she stepped into the hall. And there he was.

Taehyung stood with his hands in his jacket pockets, hood up, shadows hiding half his face. But his eyes… she’d know them anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice low but steady.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “You know why I’m here.”

She crossed her arms, the robe tugging tighter across her chest. “Do I?”

His gaze sharpened. “I know you know it’s me. It’s all over the news.”

Y/N’s breath caught, but she didn’t look away. “The second I heard it… I knew.” She swallowed, fingers tightening on the robe belt. “It was you.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“But I’m not going to tell anyone,” she continued. “I don’t care what you’ve done… it’s not my business. But it means we can’t—” She hesitated, the words catching. “We can’t see each other anymore.”

Something flickered in his expression—amusement, maybe, or defiance. Then he stepped closer, close enough for her to smell the faint trace of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his body.

“You really think I’m going to walk away that easy?” he murmured.

Before she could answer, he leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. His mouth was hot, demanding, pulling a sharp gasp from her before she melted against him. Her hands were at his chest, meaning to push him back—but instead, they curled into his jacket as his tongue slid against hers, his body crowding hers into the doorframe.

She kissed him back. Hard. Like she’d been starving for it.

When she finally broke away, breathless, her hand pressed lightly to his chest—not shoving, but holding him there. “You have to stop coming here.”

He didn’t move for a beat, eyes locked on hers, lips curved in that infuriating smirk. But when she stepped back, he let her go.

She turned, retreating inside without looking back, the door clicking shut between them.

In the dark of her bedroom, she lay staring at the ceiling, heart still pounding.

What the hell was going on in her life?

----------------

The night air was thick with gasoline, smoke, and bass-heavy music that rattled the cracked pavement. Y/N stood near the edge of the crowd, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, watching the chaos unfold.

Mina had dragged her here, bright-eyed with her new boyfriend in tow, gushing about how “street racing is way more fun than it sounds.” Y/N had almost said no. But maybe, she thought, it was time to put Taehyung firmly in the past. Maybe she could meet someone new tonight. Someone who didn’t vanish after wrecking her self-control, and definitely someone who wasn’t a walking red flag.

Engines roared at the starting line, headlights flaring against the dark. Y/N let her gaze wander over the lineup—sleek bodies of metal and chrome, paint jobs that gleamed under the scattered floodlights.

Then one particular car rolled forward.

It was impossible not to notice. Low to the ground, jet black with tinted windows that hid the driver completely—until the glass began to roll down.

Her stomach dropped.

Taehyung.

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[miidniightthoughts]

FOREST

→ Pairing: Namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: non-idol, one-shot -> Genres: couple → Warnings(s): pure smut, NSFW, +21, exhibitionism/voyeurism, public sex, against tree, doggy style, dirty talk, fantasizing, in the forest, pool sex, handjob, hardcore sex, fast and hard, rough, in front of strangers, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, spitting, hand job, overwhelming, overstimulation and more. → Rating: mature/explicit (this is mature/explicit content, so you have been warned.) → Word count: 12.7K

Author Notes:

Author Q is here, Hello everyone. It’s all about exhibitionism and voyeurism. If you'd prefer not to read this, please feel free to check out other stories. If you’d like to read it, please be aware of what you’re getting into.

Namjoon is your boyfriend, you and Namjoon and your and his friends decided to go on vacation to Jeju Island for 2 weeks, but you had a fight with Namjoon on the first day of your arrival place and your friends were embarrassed by you two.

You were sitting in a hotel room with your friend, it was 10 pm and almost all of your friends to a party at the club, including Namjoon.

"You and Joon really should make up, you're just spoiling the good mood, it's our first day here." your friend said.

"I know but he started it." You rolled your eyes.

Your friend sighed, "Just go make up with him, we both know you can't stand not talking to him for an entire two weeks."

"I can't believe he has this power over me." You rolled your eyes once more, annoyed that your friend was right.

Your friend laughed, "You know it's because you love him like crazy."

"I do, but his stubbornness is really a pain in the ass." You groaned, reluctantly getting up from the bed.

Your friend looked satisfied that you were finally going to talk things out with Namjoon.

"Now go, before I push you out of that damned door." your friend teased, giving you a light push towards the door.

With a huff, you finally left the hotel room, mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you were about to have with Namjoon.

The club music pulses through the air as you step inside, scanning the crowded space for Namjoon. After a few minutes, you spot him leaning against the bar, nursing a drink while Hoseok animatedly talks next to him. Taking a deep breath, you make your way over.

ge turns, his face unreadable for a moment before his eyes soften just slightly. He sets down his drink.

"Oh hi. Did you finally come to yell at me some more?" His voice is light but there's an underlying tension as he crosses his arms. Hoseok immediately makes an exaggerated exit, mouthing 'good luck' at you as he slips away into the crowd.

You glare at Hoseok as he scurries away, leaving you alone with Namjoon.

"I didn't come here to yell at you, I came here to talk," you say, trying to keep your voice level.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Really? You've been giving me the silent treatment all day, so pardon me if I don't believe you."

You can't help but roll your eyes at his response.

"Oh, please. You weren't exactly being a saint yourself, you know."

Namjoon lets out a scoff. "Me? You're the one who overreacted in the first place over something stupid."

"Overreacting? You're the one who started it!"

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, but the anger is still bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You completely disregarded my opinion and brushed it off like it was nothing. Is it so hard to respect what I have to say for once?"

Namjoon's jaw tenses as he looks down at his drink, swirling the ice cubes before meeting your eyes again. His voice drops to that careful, measured tone he uses when he's trying not to escalate things.

"You're right. I should've listened better. But you shutting down and giving me the cold shoulder instead of talking to me? That hurt too." He runs a hand through his hair.

You're taken aback by the hint of vulnerability in his voice. It's rare for Namjoon to express his feelings so openly, especially when you're angry.

"I just... I needed some space to cool off. But you have a knack for getting under my skin sometimes, you know that?"

Namjoon lets out a dry chuckle. "Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual."

A small smirk tugs at your lips despite yourself. "Yeah well... you're lucky I think your dumb face is cute."

Namjoon finally cracks a real smile at that, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders. He reaches out to gently flick your forehead. "And you're lucky I put up with your dramatic ass." The warmth in his eyes makes your heart do that stupid little flip it always does when he looks at you like that.

The bass from the club speakers thrums around you both as he nudges your shoulder. "Wanna get out of here? I know a quiet beach nearby where we can actually hear each other talk."

You can't help but smile back, the anger you felt earlier already starting to fade. You nod in agreement.

"Yeah, that sounds nice."

Namjoon finishes his drink in one gulp and sets down the glass, gesturing for you to follow him. He leads you out of the crowded club and into the cool night air.

The walk to the beach is quiet, but it's a comfortable kind of silence. You walk side by side, your shoulders brushing against each other occasionally.

The beach is deserted, save for a few scattered boats in the distance. The sand feels soft and cool under your feet as you and Namjoon walk along the shoreline. The waves crash gently in the moonlight, creating a soothing soundtrack.

You let out a sigh, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. It feels like a world away from the club and your argument.

Namjoon stops and drops down onto a dry patch of sand, patting the spot next to him. "Come here."

You sit down beside him, the warmth of his body next to yours a comforting contrast to the cool night air. He puts his arm over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer. For a few moments, neither of you speaks. You just watch the waves roll in, lost in your thoughts.

Finally, Namjoon breaks the silence. "I am sorry." His voice is soft.

You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"And I'm sorry too," you admit. "I should've talked to you instead of shutting you out."

Namjoon lets out a breath and nuzzles his nose into your hair. "We both messed up, huh?"

You nod slightly. "Yeah... we do seem to get into a lot of arguments for two people who supposedly love each other."

Namjoon snorts at that, but his grip on your shoulder tightens just a little.

"Love doesn't mean everything is going to be perfect and easy. We're gonna argue, we're gonna piss each other off. But we also know when to apologize and when to make up." He rubs his thumb over your shoulder absentmindedly. "I just don't like it when you give me the silent treatment."

You lift your head to look at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "And I don't like when you dismiss my opinions like they're unimportant. We both have things to work on."

He rolls his eyes, but there's a fond smile on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, we're both stubborn jerks. We're a match made in heaven."

A laugh bubbles out of you, the tension finally completely fading.

"Heaven? More like hell. We probably drive each other insane most of the time."

Namjoon laughs too, the sound deep and rich in his chest beneath your ear. "But you wouldn't have it any other way."

You can't deny it. Even with all the petty arguments and stubborn disagreements, there's a reason you've stuck together for this long.

"No, I wouldn't," you admit.

Namjoon presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. "Good. Let's go to our room. It's been a long day, and I want to rest."

You nod in agreement, standing up and brushing the sand off your clothes. Namjoon takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. You start to head back to the hotel, the cool breeze pleasant against your skin.

As you walk, you can't help but feel a warm affection for the man next to you. He might drive you crazy sometimes, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

When you arrive back at the hotel, the lobby is mostly empty. The elevator ride up is silent, but it's a comfortable kind of silence this time. Namjoon's thumb brushes lightly against the back of your hand, a small gesture of affection.

As soon as you enter your room, Namjoon kicks off his shoes and practically collapses onto one of the beds. He groans and stretches his arms out, his shirt riding up to reveal a strip of toned skin.

Namjoon lets out a deep exhale, eyes already half-closed as he pats the space next to him without looking. "Come here angel," he mumbles, voice rough with exhaustion.

You can't help but laugh at his needy tone. But you oblige, slipping out of your shoes and climbing onto the bed next to him. Namjoon immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. He buries his face in your hair, his body warm and solid against yours.

You snuggle into his embrace, feeling your body relax against him. All the stress and tension from the day seem to melt away in his arms. Namjoon's hand rubs soothing circles on your back, his fingers tracing invisible patterns against your skin.

You close your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a sense of peace.

Namjoon's voice is a low rumble against your ear. "I love you, you know."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, even though you've heard them countless times before.

"I love you too," you reply, your face still buried in the crook of his neck. "Even when you're a pain in the ass."

Namjoon laughs softly, squeezing you tighter.

He pinches your side playfully at that. "Look who's talking, Miss 'I-give-the-silent-treatment-for-fun'." His words are teasing but the hand stroking your hair is achingly gentle.

You can feel him press a sleepy kiss to your temple as he settles deeper into the pillows. "Now sleep. We're making up for lost time tomorrow - breakfast on the balcony, then that hiking trail Hoseok and Jimin won't stop raving about." His voice is already slurring with exhaustion.

The last thing you register before drifting off is the way his fingers instinctively tighten around your wrist - like even in sleep, he's making sure you won't go far.

The morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting warm golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Namjoon stirs first, blinking sleepily at the unfamiliar ceiling before his gaze lands on you still curled against his chest. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face as he carefully extracts his arm from beneath you, trying not to wake you.

But the moment his warmth leaves your side, your brow furrows in protest. With a sleepy grumble, you blindly reach out and grab a fistful of his shirt, dragging him back down with surprising strength for someone half-asleep.

Namjoon chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest as he lets himself be pulled back into the cocoon of blankets. "Guess we're sleeping in then," he murmurs, tucking your head under his chin with a contented sigh. Outside, the sound of waves crashing and distant seagulls creates the perfect lazy morning soundtrack.

You let out a content huff as you settle back into his arms, your head resting over his heart. You can feel it thumping steadily underneath you, a soothing rhythm that almost lulls you back to sleep.

Namjoon starts to run his hand through your hair, his touch gentle and almost absent-minded as he absently plays with the strands.

He breaks the comfortable silence, his voice soft and gravelly with sleep. "...We should probably get up before the others start banging on our door demanding brunch." But he makes no actual move to get up, perfectly content to stay tangled in the sheets with you.

You nuzzle deeper into his chest with a sleepy whine, tightening your grip on his shirt. "Five more minutes," you mumble against his skin, your voice thick with sleep.

Namjoon lets out that deep, rumbling laugh of his, the one that vibrates pleasantly against your cheek.

The sunlight shifts across the bed, warming your legs tangled with his. Neither of you moves. Outside, the faint sound of laughter floats up from the pool below—probably Jin and Jungkook already causing chaos. But here, in this quiet little nest, time feels deliciously suspended.

Namjoon's fingers trace idle patterns along your spine. "...This is nice," he murmurs, almost to himself. You hum in agreement, already drifting again to the rhythm of his heartbeat. The vacation can wait. Right now, this is exactly where you both want to be.

You're drifting off again when Namjoon's voice cuts through the drowsy haze.

"Hey."

His fingers under your chin tilt your face up, and you crack open your eyes, blinking against the morning light. And then your brain catches up—because god, he looks unfairly good. Tousled hair, warm eyes, sleepy smile. He brushes a thumb along your jawline, his touch sending a flutter through your stomach.

"As much as I am loving the koala impression right now," he teases, "We might need to actually get out of bed at some point."

You grumble again, wrapping yourself even more tightly around him. "But... warm."

Namjoon snorts, patting your ass indulgently. "Yeah, that's true. But I think the others are getting impatient."

Your protest turns into a reluctant sigh as his words sink in. You know he's right. The thought of getting up seems about as appealing as jumping into a lake during winter.

Namjoon gently disentangles himself from your grip, rolling out of bed. He stretches, the muscles in his back flexing under the white T-shirt he slept in. You don't bother hiding your appreciative stare.

Namjoon catches you staring and smirks, stretching a little more dramatically just to watch your eyes follow the movement. "Like what you see?" he teases, running a hand through his messy bedhead.

You throw a pillow at him with a sleepy laugh. "Stop showing off and help me get up, you conceited ass."

He dodges the pillow easily and grabs your ankles, yanking you toward the edge of the bed with a yelp from you. Before you can retaliate, he swoops down to press a quick, laughing kiss to your lips. "There. Now we're both up. Happy?"

You feign annoyance but the effect is ruined by the broad grin that spreads across your face as you push yourself upright. "You're a pain."

You're just about to swing your legs off the bed and then he wraps your legs around his waist.

Without warning, Namjoon scoops you up off the bed, hoisting you into his arms effortlessly. You let out an undignified squawk, clinging to his neck.

"Jesus, a little warning next time," you gasp, even though a thrill runs through you at how easily he handles you.

He laughs, shifting you into a more comfortable position against his chest. "But where's the fun in that?" He starts walking toward the bathroom, carrying you like you weigh nothing.

"Besides," he continues, "I like the noises you make when I catch you off guard." He punctuates the statement by giving your ass a playful spank.

He sets you down on the edge of the bathroom counter, standing between your legs and tilting your chin up to look at him.

Namjoon's expression softens as his thumbs brush along your cheekbones, his voice dropping to that quiet, intimate tone that still makes your pulse stutter after all this time. "You look beautiful in the morning light." He leans in, pausing just inches from your lips - close enough that you can feel his breath mingle with yours. "Even with the drool mark on your cheek."

You swat at his chest, but he catches your wrist mid-air, pressing a laughing kiss to your palm before finally, finally closing the distance.

"Just one kiss.." he whispered. "After that, we'll clean up and have breakfast."

His lips barely brush against yours, light as a feather, and you almost whimper at the teasing. You reach up to grip the front of his shirt, trying to pull him closer, but he leans just out of reach with a knowing grin.

"Ah-ah." He grabs hold of your wrists, pressing them down against the counter.

Your breath catches as Namjoon pins you in place, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin material of his T-shirt. His eyes roam your face, his gaze lingering on your wide eyes and parted lips.

He leans forward, bringing his mouth close to your ear, his voice a low murmur that makes a shiver run down your spine. "If I start kissing you properly now, we won't be leaving this bathroom any time soon."

You're torn between wanting to smack him and wanting to melt right then and there. "Maybe I don't care," you manage to retort, proud that your voice doesn't waver.

Namjoon's grip tightens slightly, almost possessive, and it sends another jolt through you. His eyes darken as a smug smile curves his lips. "And as much as I'd love to take you right here against this counter..." He gives your thigh a light squeeze, making you shiver involuntarily. "...Not now."

A huff escapes you at the teasing, but there's no hiding the way your body reacts to his touch. He knows he has this power over you and he uses it shamelessly.

"Fuck you." you grumble, but there's no real heat in your tone. Namjoon chuckles, finally releasing your wrists to step back. He pats your thigh lightly. "Oh, I will."

time skip.

You and Namjoon finally make it to the hiking trail Hobi and Jimin have been raving about, and you have to admit, the view is stunning. Verdant mountains frame an endless blue sky as far as the eye can see, and even though it's a bit humid, the breeze feels refreshing against your skin.

Namjoon lets out a low whistle. "Okay, I'm starting to see why they couldn't shut up about this place. It's incredible."

"Yeah, it really is." You take a moment to just soak in the beauty of the landscape before digging your phone out of your backpack. "I should probably send Hobi and Jimin a picture. They'll never believe we actually made it out of bed."

Namjoon laughs and slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a quick selfie. You take a few shots, trying to capture the breathtaking view behind you.

You send off the pictures with a quick caption to the group chat before putting your phone away and turning your attention back to Namjoon. He's gazing out at the horizon with a thoughtful expression on his face, one arm still slung around your shoulders. You nudge him with an elbow.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, taking in his contemplative expression.

Namjoon exhales slowly, his grip on your shoulder tightening just a fraction. "How I almost ruined this entire trip over something stupid." His eyes flicker with uncharacteristic vulnerability before he looks back at the view. "I don’t want to waste another second of it arguing with you."

He turns to face you fully, the mountain breeze ruffling his hair. "From now on, let’s just... enjoy it. Together." There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze that makes your breath catch, the same look he gets when he’s composing something important.

Your heart clenches in your chest at the rawness in his voice. You know how hard it is for him to open up, even to you. You step closer, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair in what you hope is a soothing gesture.

"Hey," you say softly, "we've had stupid fights before and we've always made up. This one was just a little longer than usual, that's all."

Namjoon covers your hand with his, leaning into your touch like a cat seeking warmth.

"Yeah, but... I don't know. It just felt different this time." He lets out a humorless laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I guess it made me realize how much I hate fighting with you. And how much I hate going to bed knowing you're pissed at me."

The earnestness in his voice hits you hard, and you can't help but wrap your arms around his waist in a tight hug. He buries his face in your neck, his breath warm on your skin.

"I hate it too," you confess quietly. "I hate not being able to just talk things out like we usually do. It's like... a part of me is missing when we're mad at each other."

Namjoon's arms tighten around you in response, his embrace practically squeezing the air from your lungs. "Me too. It's like this weird emptiness that's... it sucks."

He pulls back just enough to place a soft kiss to your forehead. "Promise me we won't let it happen again. No more dumb arguments without talking it out. No more silent treatments."

You nod fervently, looking up at him with a determined expression. "Promise. No more stupid fights. No more ignoring each other."

Namjoon's expression softens when he sees how serious you are, his gaze searching your features as if he's making sure you mean it. Finally, he leans in and brushes a tender kiss along your jawline before murmuring against your skin.

"Good. I hate it when you give me the silent treatment anyway. Drives me crazy."

You can't help the small grin that spreads across your face at his admission. "Oh, yeah? Does it drive you crazy?"

You reach up to run a hand over his chest, fingers toying with the collar of his shirt in a way you know is more taunting than comforting. Namjoon’s eyes darken ever so slightly, but he doesn’t miss a beat.

"It does,” he says evenly, hands sliding down to grip your waist. “Makes me want to find ways to get your attention back on me."

You try to keep a straight face, but a shiver runs down your spine at his words. Before you can reply, he grips your waist tighter and pulls you closer, his body suddenly flush against yours.

He lowers his voice to a murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. "And when you're all quiet and sulky..." His hands slide under your shirt, fingers tracing light patterns against your bare skin. "God, you look so hot when you're mad."

Your brain practically short-circuits at the sudden contact, the feeling of his hands on your bare skin sending goosebumps across your flesh. You try to scoff, but the breathy sound that comes out only serves to make Namjoon smirk smugly.

"Can we keep walking?" you murmur, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your gut. Namjoon leans down, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

Namjoon's grip on your waist tightens, his lips dancing over the skin just below your ear as he lets out a low, smug chuckle.

"Trying to get away, angel?" His fingers lightly skim the waistband of your pants, dipping just below it to brush against the bare skin above your ass.

The sensation makes your knees weak, and you barely bite back a gasp. You're fully aware of how affected you're becoming, but Namjoon is clearly enjoying himself too much to back down.

You try to keep your voice steady as you speak, but your words come out as a breathy whisper. "We're in public, Joon."

Namjoon's hands slide completely under your shirt, his palms flattening against your stomach as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder. His breath is hot against your neck.

"We're in the middle of the mountains, no one's around." His hands slide higher, grazing your ribs. You swear you feel his lips curling into a smirk against your skin.

But despite the heat flaring in your gut, you try to keep a grip on rational thinking. "Someone could see us."

Namjoon seems unconcerned, his hands still exploring under your shirt, his fingers teasing the underside of your bra. His voice is a deep rumble in your ear. "Then let them see." He brushes your skin with the barest graze of his knuckles, sending electricity pulsing through your core. "Fuck, this sports shorts..."

You swallow hard, trying to get a handle on your breathing as Namjoon toys with the waistband of your shorts. It's getting increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone words. You grab his wrists in a futile attempt to stop his hands from wandering. "I don't want anyone to see us."

Namjoon huffs, clearly amused by your feeble attempts to stop him. He nuzzles his face into your neck once more, his lips grazing your sensitive skin. "So you want me to stop?" His hands still, lingering just above your waistband.

His voice is low and taunting, but you know Namjoon well enough to know he's testing your resolve.

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, torn between the thrill of the danger of getting caught and the desire coursing through your veins. But you manage to force out a reply. "Yes. We’re in public." You turn your head slightly to glare at him.

Namjoon's hands slide back up to your sides, fingers grazing your ribs through your shirt. He sighs disappointedly but there's a hint of a smirk on his face. "Fine, if you say so."

You try to regain some semblance of composure, straightening your shirt where it's rumpled from Namjoon's wandering hands. You ignore the throbbing ache between your legs, willing it to go away. "We should keep going." You can't quite keep the huskiness out of your voice.

Namjoon's grin widens, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you. But he obediently steps back, the glint in his eyes showing he's far from finished with you.

"Lead the way, angel.”

You can feel his gaze burning into your back as you start walking again, the air thick with palpable tension. You keep your eyes straight ahead, determined not to let him see how flustered you are. And yet, you can’t help the way your steps falter occasionally, your mind buzzing with memories of Namjoon's hands on your stomach, your waist, your chest.

The silence between you is charged, the sound of your feet against the gravel the only thing cutting through the tension.

The walk seems to stretch on for ages, each step a painful reminder of the desire coursing through your veins. But you refuse to look back at Namjoon, knowing that one look in his eyes would be enough to shatter your resolve.

After what feels like an eternity, Namjoon finally breaks the silence, his voice cutting through the air like a gunshot.

"You alright back there, sweetheart?" His tone is casual, almost innocent, as if he hadn't just reduced you to a mess a few minutes ago. You try to keep your reply nonchalant, even though your heart is beating out of your chest.

"I’m fine, why do you ask?" You don't dare look back at him but you can feel the heat of his gaze boring into your back.

Namjoon lets out a low, knowing chuckle, but he keeps his voice light. "Just checking. You've been pretty quiet."

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to snap back and tell him exactly what he’s doing to you. Instead, you force out a scoff. "Can't a person enjoy the scenery in peace?"

Namjoon's footsteps quicken, closing the distance between you. "Oh, you're enjoying the scenery, huh?" His tone is low and amused. The smug bastard seems to be having way too much fun with this.

You can feel his presence right behind you, the heat radiating from his body making you shiver.

"Yeah, the mountains are beautiful." You manage to get the words out without your voice cracking, though it's a wonder considering how dry your throat suddenly is.

Namjoon's hand brushes against the small of your back, the touch almost scorching even through the fabric of your shirt. You inhale sharply, his proximity making it impossible to think straight.

His voice is barely above a whisper, right by your ear. "They are, but I think I prefer something else right now."

His other hand finds its way to your hip, pulling you back against his chest. His breath is warm against your neck. "You say we're in public... but I remember you said you wanted to try exhibitionism."

Your brain stutters for a second, struggling to process his words past the fog of desire clouding your thoughts. You remember that conversation, but you never expected Namjoon of all people to bring it up.

His grip on your waist tightens, fingers digging into your skin. His chest is pressed against your back, and you can feel his rapid heartbeat matched with your own.

His next words are more than a little smug. "You're thinking about it, right? Admit it."

You swallow hard, torn between the urge to give in to the fire burning in your core and the knowledge that anyone could see you right now.

"...Maybe." You reply grudgingly, your voice coming out breathy betraying your efforts to keep a level tone.

Namjoon's hands slide under your shirt again, hot against your skin. His mouth brushes the shell of your ear. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His hands slide higher, thumbs grazing the underside of your bra. "Being out here, out in the open. Anyone could see us." His hips grind against your ass and you can feel his growing hardness pressing into you. "Anyone could see how affected you are."

You can't stop the moan that escapes your lips at the sensation, hips bucking helplessly back against his.

The feeling of him, hard against your ass makes your legs weak, and you stumble forward a little. Namjoon's hand on your waist steadies you, his grip firm.

His nose brushes the sensitive skin of your neck, a quiet laugh against your ear. "I was right, huh?" He sounds far too self-s satisfied, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.

His hands slide higher, palming your breasts through your bra. "Tell me angel."

Your mind is swimming, the feel of Namjoon's hands on your nipple making you squirm. But you manage to bite back another moan.

"Maybe." You repeat, your voice cracking at the end.

Namjoon's hands leave your breasts, sliding back down to your waist. His hands feel almost possessive gripped on your hips.

"No, no, no." He tsks, his hands tightening the grip. "I think we should try being more honest with each other, don’t you agree?" His thumbs dig into your hip bones. "Be honest with me."

Your mind is too overwhelmed to come up with a sassy reply. So, instead you nod, trying to find the will to speak without moaning.

"Yes." You manage to choke out.

Namjoon's hands trail over your stomach, his touch lighting up every nerve in your body.

"Good girl." His voice is a low purr in your ear, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts. "Now tell me... what are you thinking about right now?" He gives your shorts a tug, pushing them lower on your hips.

The feeling of the fabric sliding over your skin sends a shiver through you, the night air suddenly feeling cool against your overheated skin. You let out an involuntary gasp, feeling the goosebumps rise all over your body. Your brain struggles to form a coherent thought.

"I'm... I'm thinking..." You struggle to speak, feeling your shorts being pushed halfway down your thighs.

Namjoon's hands slide back over the bare skin of your ass, squeezing possessively. His voice is a low murmur against your neck.

"I am listening angel." he murmured.

You can barely form a sentence without moaning, your brain hazy with want.

"I'm thinking that... that someone... could see us." You manage to gasp out. Namjoon's hands still on your hips, his fingers twitching against your skin. "And fuck.. that makes me so wet.."

You can almost feel the smug smirk against your neck.

"Good, we’re being honest with each other." His hands slide lower, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your panties. "Keep talking."

You have to concentrate to keep your knees from buckling, your legs shaking as Namjoon's hands pull your soaked underwear down your thighs.

"I'm... I'm thinking that.. " you whispered.

Namjoon's fingers trail teasingly up the inner part of your thigh, his words almost a taunt against your ear.

"Use that dirty mouth of yours, baby."

You can't stop the soft whine at his fingers barely grazing over your clit. Your hips try to grind down on his fingers for some relief, but his other hand grips your hip, holding you still. "Fuck..” you breathe out helplessly.

You can feel Namjoon's smile against your neck. "You're dripping." He murmards, fingers brushing against your folds. "Just look at you. Such a mess already.." His fingers slide through your folds with ease, teasing your opening.

His voice lowers into a growl, low enough not to carry. "Tell me baby, you like this right? out here in the open, where anyone could see us, where you're so exposed... so free."

Your legs feel weak, your whole body trembling as Namjoon's fingers toy with your slit. You clench your eyes shut, focusing on the sensations.

"God... Yes." You whine, your voice already breaking. "I liked it."

Namjoon's fingers withdraw from your soaked folds, and you can hear the sound of his zipper being undone. "Turn around."

You obey immediately, turning around to face him. Your eyes rake over his face, taking in his flushed cheeks and the way his jaw clenches. His eyes dart behind you for a split second, looking at something behind you.

His hands grip your thigh, the roughness of his palms sending shivers up to your core. "Bend over."

It's an order, and you obey eagerly, leaning forward to grip your hands against the rough bark of the tree in front of you. Your legs feel like mush almost immediately, but you manage to stay put.

Namjoon stands behind you, his hand running up your leg. “Spread them more.” His voice is dark and commanding. Your legs move, spreading further apart.

You hear the sound of Namjoon spitting, and a moment later, the head of his cock prods against your leaking slit. You let out a gasp, feeling him press against your entrance, just barely spreading you.

"You're so wet." Namjoon lets out a low groan.

You whine at that, unable to deny his words, but before you can reply, he pushes inside of you with a powerful thrust. Your moan echoes through the night air, the sudden stretch of your walls around him making your hands grip the bark of the tree tightly.

The feel of him inside of you is overwhelming, and you try to muffle your mewls in your sleeve, your legs almost giving out. You feel his fingers dig into the skin of your thigh, keeping you upright.

He starts a steady rhythm, his thrusts deep and hard. He leans forward, covering your body with his, his chest pressing against your back. He growls near your ear, voice low and rough. "You'd let me do anything. I could bend- Oh fuck, someone is coming."

Your body freezes, dread sinking like a stone in your stomach. You manage to peek over your shoulder, not able to see anything from this angle. Someone is nearby. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, your whole body tense.

But Namjoon holds you in place, not slowing his pace for a second.

His hands grip your waist, keeping you pressed against the tree as he continues to piston his hip, not giving you a chance to adjust to the new angle. "They're coming closer."

You can hear the steady crunch of footsteps on the gravel trail, moving closer to you guys. You try to pull away, but Namjoon holds you firmly. "Shhhh."

His hand clamps over your mouth, effectively muffling your moans as you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. You can't make out the conversation, but you can hear the deep timbre of a male voice and a soft laugh.

Namjoon doesn't slow down for a second, his pace unrelenting as the voices get louder.

The voices draw closer, and you can make out the words of the men's conversation now. It's two guys, seemingly lost and trying to find their way to the parking lot. They're only a few meters away, on the other side of the tree you're pressed against. They turned the corner now, and they see you.

Your body goes taut as you watch the two guys notice the two of you, their conversation faltering and then stopping entirely. They stand there, frozen in surprise. Your body shudders helplessly, the adrenaline coursing through your body.

Namjoon doesn't stop his movements, not even now that the men are standing just a few feet away from you.

Their eyes go wide, and you can see one of them nudge the other, whispering something. Their gazes are firmly locked on you and Namjoon.

Namjoon he leans over you, voice rough in your ear. "Look at their eyes."

You take a peek over your shoulder in their direction, and sure enough, the two guys' eyes are locked on you. You can see their Adam's apple bob as they swallow.

One of them opens his mouth, as if to speak, but whatever words he was going to say seem to get lodged in his throat.

"They want you baby. They want to be me." Namjoon murmured, his pace still consistent as the men gawk at you.

You can see one of them move awkwardly, as if trying to adjust his pants. You bite down on your lip, the heat in your stomach growing as their gaze roams over your body.

"Yeah, that one there. He can't take his eyes off you." Namjoon huffs a laugh, sounding almost amused.

One of them is definitely still staring at you, his eyes locked on your legs.The other one has now noticed, too, staring at the two of you with open interest. It's one thing thinking someone could stumble upon you, but the fact that they're watching you?

Namjoon lets out a low, possessive growl in your ear. "They're staring at you angel." He bites down on your neck playfully, and you barely suppress a gasp.

The two men continue staring, mouths open as they take in the scene in front of them. One of them whispers something to the other. You can't make out the words, but you can tell they're both enthralled by the show.

Namjoon's hands grip your hips tighter, possessively. "They're not even trying to look away. What do you think they're thinking right now, sweetheart?"

You can practically feel their gazes burning into your back.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, the mixed emotions inside of you almost overwhelming.

"God... They're still watching." You choke out, your voice hoarse.

Namjoon's fingers dig into your skin possessively. "Yeah, they are. Because that's all they can do—watch." He punctuates each word with another deep thrust.

One of the men lowers his hand to his pants, trying to adjust the bulge in them.

You swallow hard, watching as the man's hand lingers for a second longer than necessary. He looks away when he realizes you're watching.

Namjoon's voice is smug against your ear. "He's hard, just for you."

Sure enough, the other man's hand has drifted down to his pants now, trying to do the same as his friend.

Your body is taut as a bowstring, the situation both mortifying and exhilarating. "Are they.. are they touching themselves?" You manage to whisper.

Namjoon's hands tighten on you. "Yeah, they do." The roughness in his voice tells you all you need to know about how he feels.

The two guys are still standing there, unmoving. The first one drops his hand down again, palming himself through his pants again.

Namjoon lets out a low growl, the possessiveness in his tone all the more apparent now.

"They want you more than anything right now, don't they?" He pulls you back, making you take more of him.

You nod desperately, words eluding you. The men seem to be transfixed, their eyes glued to your body. The first one gives up, his hand rubbing his bulge shamelessly now.

Namjoon lets out a low laugh, the smug satisfaction evident in his voice. "They can't help themselves." He thrusts into you harder, the roughness of his voice betraying his control slipping.

Your eyes are still locked with the second guy, his hand now mimicking his friend. His eyes are dark, and you swear you can see his tongue dart out to lick his lips. You let out a strangled gasp. "Oh god, they're... Oh god."

Namjoon lets out another growt, hands gripping at your waist possessively. "Yeah, look at them. You drive them crazy, angel. I bet they'd do anything to be in my place right now." His voice is rough but reverent.

The second guy is practically undoing his pants now, his hand visibly squeezing his bulge. You can feel yourself dripping around Namjoon's cock, the thought of them watching you making you clamp down around him.

You're starting to lose control of your body, hips bucking involuntarily against Namjoon's. You're on the edge of coming.

A low, guttural sound rumbles from Namjoon's chest. His hands hold you in place, almost possessively. "They want you so badly. They'd give anything to touch you, to be inside you."

You can't stop your head from rolling back on his shoulder, your hand moving to grip his thigh. "Oh god... They look... So good."

The man's other hand is squeezing the base of his cock now, the veins on his forearm standing out. His eyes dart back up to yours, and the sight of him sends a shiver up your spine. His chest heaves as if he's panting. He stares at you for a few seconds before looking away again.

Namjoon's voice drops to a deep growl in your ear. "They're desperate, angel. Desperate." He punctuates the last word with a hard thrust. "They're aching for you."

You moan aloud, no longer caring if they hear you. The man's breaths are getting heavier, his hand moving faster. "Oh god." You breathe out, struggling to stay upright.

Namjoon's hands grip your hips tightly, possessively. "Yeah, they're desperate for you. All they can do is watch you get filled over and over again, getting what they'll never have." His voice is rough, possessive. "Because you're mine."

Those words send a shiver down your spine, making you clench around his cock even tighter. The guy's hand jerks faster, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Oh god, Namjoon... " you manage to gasp out. You can feel his grip on your hips tighten to almost painful levels at your words.

Namjoon's pace is relentless, his grip on your hips unyielding. "Yeah, angel?" He pants out, voice low and rough. "You close?"

You nod desperately, your hips bucking against him. The tension in your stomach is almost unbearable. "God, yes. I'm close." You manage to get out.

The guy lets out a strangled noise, his hips twitching with each stroke. His eyes are locked on you, almost glazed over.

You can feel Namjoon's grip on you tighten possessively. "Yeah? You gonna come for me, baby?" He whispers in your ear, voice rough and uneven. He leans forward slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts.

Your eyes flutter closed, your fingers clawing at the tree trunk in front of you. "Oh god, yes. I'm gonna come." You manage to gasp out in a whimper.

The guy is now letting out breathy moans, his hand working faster and faster. His eyes are locked on your face, almost pleading.

Namjoon's grip on your waist is almost bruising as he increases his pace, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Yeah, come for me, angel. Let them hear you." His voice is raspy, rough with desire.

Your head rolls back on his shoulder, your neck exposed and bared to him. "Oh gods, I'm coming." You moan out, your voice echoing through the night air.

The guy's hands move away from his cock, clenching into fists at his sides. He lets out a low, strangled sound, looking close to tears. His eyes are still locked on you, watching.

Namjoon lets out a deep groan at your words, his hands holding you in place. "Oh, God, you're so good to me." He pants out, voice rough and uneven. "That's it, come for me."

Your body is wound up so tight, and the sight of the man's desperation sends you over the edge. You come with a gasp, legs shaking wildly as the orgasm washes over you. It takes all of Namjoon's strength to keep you upright, his hands gripping your hips.

Your knees almost give out, your body going limp against Namjoon's chest. His hands hold you up, his grip on your hips a little painful.

"Good girl." He murmurs, his mouth against your ear.

You're still trying to catch your breath, your body wrung out and boneless. You can feel Namjoon's rapid heartbeat against your back, his body trembling ever so slightly.

You slowly turn your head, making eye contact with the second guy. He looks wrecked, his breathing heavy and raspy.

His eyes are still locked on you, his gaze dark and intense. But he doesn't move, his body taunt like a bowstring.

You hear Namjoon chuckle darkly behind you."Your fantasy comes to life angel."

Your mind is a mess, still reeling from your orgasm. You struggle to form coherent thoughts, your face heating up under the guys gaze.

"Oh god." You murmur, burying your face in Namjoon's neck. He lets out a low laugh against your ear, his grip on your hips tightening possessively.

"They left. Look at me angel. " Namjoon murmurs, pressing a soft kiss top of your head.

You lift your head up, still feeling a little dizzy. Your neck is still slightly sore from Namjoon's grip.

You look around, and sure enough the two guys are nowhere to be found.

Namjoon leans forward, his chin resting on your shoulder. "So how was that, sweetheart?" He asks, voice nonchalant.

You're still trying to process what happened, trying to control your breathing.

"Surreal." You manage to say, your mind conjuring up the image of the two men watching you. "That was... insane."

Namjoon lets out a low chuckle, his breath hot against your neck. "Surreal huh? Did you enjoy it?"

His hands slide up your waist, his fingers tracing patterns over your shirt.

"I did.. You?" you murmured

He presses a lingering kiss to the sensitive skin just below your ear. "You want the honest answer angel?" He murmurs against your neck.

You shiver at the sensation, goosebumps running down your spine. "Yeah." You murmur, still trying to regain control over your breathing.

His hands continue to roam over your body, seemingly unable to keep them to himself. "Then, I loved it." He murmured, voice smug. "I loved the way they were looking at you, how desperate they were. But most of all..."

You can't help but shiver as his hands grip your hips possessively again. "Yeah?" You whisper, your mind still reeling from everything that just happened. "Most of all?"

Namjoon's mouth brushes against the shell of your ear, his voice low and rough. "I loved the fact that they'll never have what I have.." His hands give your hips a squeeze. "You."

time skip.

You're lounging on loby, mindlessly scrolling through your phone with your friend. Namjoon is out with his friends.

"Hey." Your friend Minsoo says suddenly, catching your attention. "Is it just me or have Namjoon's friends always been lowkey hot? Like Jimin.. Fuck I wish he fuck me."

You nearly choke on your ice cold water, your phone dropping to your lap. "What?" You sputter out, trying to process her words. She's not wrong. "Jimin? Since when?" you laughed.

Minsoo rolls her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed." She crosses her legs, leaning back against the couch cushions. "I've always had a thing for him. Ever since I first met him. He's just so… Ugh." She lets out a sigh, fanning herself dramatically. "He's so hot."

You raise an eyebrow, a grin spreading across your face. "I didn't know you had a crush on him."

Minsoo rolls her eyes again, shaking her head.

"Don't get that smug look on your face." She huffs. "I've had a thing for him since you introduced us."

Your smirk widens. "Well, well, well look at that."

Minsoo playfully swats at your shoulder. "Shut up." She huffs, a hint of pink spreading across her cheeks. "It's not a big deal."

You can't help but chuckled, shaking your head. "It is a big deal if you've had a crush on him forever and never said anything."

Minsoo rolls her eyes again, a defensive edge to her voice. "What's the point of saying anything? He's your boyfriend's friend. You know how weird friendships can get when feelings are involved."

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Not really. My and Namjoon's friendship didn't change at al—"

She interrupts you. "No offense, but you two were practically made for each other."

You can’t argue with that. It's a fact. But still, you can't help but poke at Jill just a little bit more.

"But Jimin could still be interested in you." You can't help but tease.

Minsoo scoffs, shaking her head. "I seriously doubt it. Have you seen the guy? He's gorgeous. He could have any girl he wants."

You laugh at Minsoo's self-deprecating comment, shaking your head. "He is gorgeous. But I think you're underestimating yourself."

She looks at you skeptically. "Oh really?" Sarcasm laces her voice.

You nod, leaning back against the couch. "I'm being serious. You're pretty, smart, funny, and you're successful. He'd be stupid not to be interested in you."

Minsoo huffs, trying to downplay it. "It's easy for you to say, your boyfriend is literally a god among men."

You can't help but smile at the compliment. But you also can't resist the opportunity to needle your friend a little more. "You have a point. But Jimin could still be into you, ya know?"

Minsoo rolls her eyes again, but a small smile plays at the edge of her lips. "Let a girl dream, okay?"

You laugh, shaking your head at Jill's stubbornness.

"You're missing my point, Minsoo. It's not just about looks or successes. It's about what you can offer." You say softly.

"You're smart, witty, funny. You have a heart of gold. Those are things he can't just find anywhere."

Your friend lets out a sigh, her defenses seeming to lower slightly. "But what if I'm not his type?"

You can't help but roll your eyes at Jill's insecurities. "Minsoo, who cares about types? Types are stupid."

She looks at you skeptically. "You're only saying that because Namjoon is basically your ideal type."

You shrug, a small smile playing at your lips. "True. But I didn't fall for him because he fit my type. I fell for him because he's him."

Jill sigh, still unconvinced. "God, you're such a sap."

You throw a pillow at her, laughing. "And you're such a cynic."

She dodges the pillow easily, sticking out her tongue at you. "I'm just realistic."

You let out an exaggerated huff, crossing your arms. "Realistic my ass. oh perfect fucking timing. They're coming, I can hear them."

Minsoo's expression changes instantly, her eyes widening and her body going tense. She smoothens out her clothes, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh god, I look like a mess." She mutters, trying to fix her disheveled appearance.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "You always say that." You murmur.

Minsoo shoots you a panicked glare. "This time I actually do." She says frantically.

The sound of Namjoon’s deep voice echoing through the foyer suddenly fills the space. Minsoo instantly straightens up, trying to look composed.

You can hear the rest of the guys laughing and chattering but Namjoon's voice stands out the most, your heart skipping a beat as usual. Minsoo is practically vibrating next to you.

"I look fine right? I don't look like I just rolled out of bed or anything right?" She asks, still attempting to fix her hair.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. "You look fine. You're overthinking."

Minsoo doesn't seem convinced, still messing with her hair. "I should've worn something fancier. I look so basic."

You roll your eyes again. "You look great. Stop being ridiculous."

Namjoon and Jimin walk into the lobby. Minsoo immediately goes stiff, her cheeks turning a bright red as Jimin’s eyes land on her.

"Hello beautiful ladies." Namjoon murmured and smiled.

Minsoo is practically malfunctioning next to you, her eyes locked on Jimin. "Hi." She croaked out. You have to resist the urge to facepalm.

You exchange a glance with Namjoon, trying to hide your smirk. He raises his eyebrow slightly, clearly finding the situation amusing.

"I am so sorry Jill. It’s okay if we leave you alone with Jimin, right? We need to go back to the room with Y/N." Namjoon smiled.

Minsoo's eyes flickered away from Jimin to Namjoon, her face red.

"Y-yeah, it’s fine." She stutters out, still avoiding eye contact with Jimin. You exchange another glance with Namjoon, this time unable to hold back your smirk. He gives you a subtle nod, clearly enjoying the situation.

Namjoon wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

"Great. I'm going to borrow her, then." He murmured.

Jimin's eyes flicker to Namjoon's hand on your waist, a flicker of something unrecognizable crossing his face for just a split second. He quickly schooled his expression, turning back to Minsoo.

Minsoo manages to drag her gaze back to Jimin, her cheeks still flushed. She tries to summon a casual tone but fails miserably.

"S-sure, go ahead." She manages to squeak out.

Namjoon nods, then steers you away from the couches, hand still possessively on your waist.

As you walk away, you can feel Jimin's eyes on your back, and you can practically feel the tension between him and Minsoo from the distance.

Namjoon guides you down the long corridor, his grip relaxed but still possessively on your waist. He glances at your face, a smug smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Lets go baby." he murmured.

You try to act nonchalant, but you can't help the way your heart races as Namjoon’s hand rests possessively on your waist, the weight of it both comforting and exhilarating. You shoot him a sidelong glance, trying to appear unaffected.

"Going somewhere?" you ask casually, though the effect is ruined by the breathiness of your voice.

Namjoon doesn’t miss the hitch in your voice, his smirk growing wider.

"Just taking you private pool." His hand slides lower, possessively grabbing your hip, pulling you a little closer.

Your heart skips a beat in your chest, the possessiveness in his grip making your knees feel weak. You clear your throat, trying to hide the effect his touch has on you.

"Private pool, huh?" You murmur, feigning disinterest.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, the smug smirk still on his face. He stops in front of a door, turning to face you. His hand on your hip tugs you even closer, leaving barely any space between your bodies. "I hope you're wearing your bikini."

Your heart is pounding now, his proximity making it hard to think straight. You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence as his fingers dig into your hip possessively.

"Yeah, I am." You manage to get out, your words coming out breathy.

His other hand reaches up to push a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your earlobe. His thumb brushes against your neck, feeling the rapid pulse throbbing beneath your skin. His gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips, a smug glint in his eyes.

"Good, cause I have a feeling it won't stay on for long."

He lets go of you and opens the door, revealing the private pool.

You try to regain control of your hammering heart, stepping inside the room. The pool is lit up by the bright moonlight filtering through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room.

Namjoon follows you in, closing the door behind him with a click. The sound echoes through the room, and you feel goosebumps break out on your skin.

Namjoon's eyes on you are heavy, his gaze scorching hot. You can feel his eyes roving over your body, burning through your clothes. He steps closer, closing the distance between you. His hand reaches out, fingers grazing your waist. His touch sends a jolt through you, goosebumps erupting on your skin.

"Let me take it off this shirt." he murmured

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers slide under your shirt, his hands skimming along the bare skin of your waist. His fingers move higher, grazing the sides of your breasts, his touch sending shivers up your spine.

You nod, your mouth dry, unable to form words. Namjoon's hands slide up your body, gripping the hem of your shirt and peeling it off.

You stand there in your bikini, feeling exposed under his intense gaze. Namjoon's eyes rake over your body, a possessive heat in his eyes.

Namjoon's fingers trail over your belly, his eyes following the path his fingers take. He steps even closer, his body pressed up against yours. His hand moves up, over the swell of your breasts, fingers grazing over your skin. His touch is tantalizing, barely there, and it's driving you crazy.

"Let's dive in baby," he murmured. ''Come on.''

Your heart is pounding in your chest, your skin burning from the intensity of his touch. You nod, unable to form words, and let him lead you to the pool. The cool water feels good against your overheated skin as you step into the pool, the water reaching your waist. Namjoon follows suit, the water splashing around you.

''Cold?'' he murmured.

You shiver, the sudden drop in temperature a shock to your overheated skin.

"Yeah, a little." You reply, your voice trembling slightly.

Namjoon smirks, stepping closer to you. He places his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him.

"You'll warm up, don't worry." He murmured, his hands sliding over your back, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your breasts press against his chest, your skin sliding against his.

His arms wrap around you, holding you close. His hands slide up your back, his fingertips gliding over your spine and leaving goosebumps in their wake. His fingers find the strings of your bikini.

His fingers deftly untie the strings, the top of your bikini falling away and leaving your breasts exposed to him.

Your nipples harden in the cool air, your breath hitching in your chest. He cups your breasts in his hands, squeezing them.

A moan escapes your lips as he cups your breasts, his hands rough but gentle. His fingers teasingly graze your nipples, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. They pebble under his touch, your nipples stiffening.

“God, you’re perfect.” He murmured, his fingers continuing to tease your nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

Your legs spread instinctively, making room for him as he places himself between your thighs. His hands slide down your thighs, squeezing your flesh. He grabs your bikini bottom, pulling it to the side.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, your hands gripping his arms for support. His fingers pinch your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He lifts you up. You sit down on the edge of the pool.

"Spit on my hand baby." he murmured.

You nod, reaching down and collecting saliva in your mouth. You then spit into his waiting hand, your face flushing red at the dirty act. He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Good girl." He murmured, his hand moving down to his shorts.

His fingers grip the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down just enough to free his cock. There's already a bead of precum forming at the tip, and he uses your spit to slide his hand up and down his length. He lets out a low groan, his eyes locking with yours.

He keeps his eyes on you, his hand working himself. The sight is mesmerizing, his cock hard and thick in his hand. He lets out a low groan.

"You make me so hard." He murmured, his hand tightening around the base of his cock.

You can only watch, your mouth dry, mesmerized by the sight of him. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your legs spreading wider. You're so close, you can almost feel how hard he is, how hot and hard he is for you.

You reach out, your hand grazing over his cock. He lets out a groan, his head falling back at the slightest touch.

“God….” he moaned. "Need you."

His grip on his cock tightens, his breaths coming in quick pants. His eyes lock on yours, dark with desire. "Get in the pool."

You swallow hard, your throat dry. You nod, getting up from the edge of the pool. You step into the water, the cool liquid embracing your body.

Namjoon follows close behind, his hands immediately finding your waist. He pulls you to the shallow side of the pool, pressing your back against the edge. The roughness against your skin makes you shiver.

Without a word, he pulls you up, wrapping your legs around him. He holds you up against the edge, his hands gripping your ass.

"Hold on." He murmured.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your grip tight. He hikes you up higher, aligning his cock with your entrance. And then, with one swift thrust, he slides into you.

Your head falls back against the edge of the pool, a gasp falling from your lips. He fills you up completely

He lifts his head up, his eyes dark with desire. He takes your mouth in a passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth. He swallows your moans, his hands moving to the back of your head to hold you in place. His hip snaps up, hitting that spot deep inside you.

Your back arches, your thighs clenching around him. You claw at his back, the pleasure coursing through you almost overwhelming. It’s intense. You pull away from his mouth, your breaths coming in short pants. He doesn’t stop his movements, his pace relentless.

“Too good." You gasp out.

He lets out a guttural groan, your words sending shivers down his spine.

“Yeah? You like that? Like how I’m filling you up?” he murmured.

Your nod, unable to form words as he continues to move inside of you. He’s hitting that spot each time, the sensation too much and not enough at the same time. His pace is relentless

"Yeah, god, want you.. all of you…. god, more." You gasp out, the words just a jumble of moans and pleads.

“Yeah baby?” He murmured, his grip on your hips almost bruising.

"You want more?” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust. “Is this not enough for you?” He asks, his tone low and rough. “Or do you want me to give you everything I’ve got?"

His words go straight to your core, his grip, and the roughness of his tone sending shivers down your spine. Your nails dig into his back, trying to hold on.

"Everything," you beg. "Everything, please."

He lets out a deep growl, his movements growing more urgent. He pushes deeper, harder, the pressure building up inside of you. It’s too much, too much, but not enough.

He leans forward, his head dropping to your ear.

“You want everything, huh?” he murmured. “Turn around."

You nod, your body too weak to do anything else. You turn around, your hands gripping the edge of the pool. Namjoon doesn’t waste any time. He grabs your hips, pulling you back towards him.

Without any warning, he slams into you from behind. You let out a strangled cry, your fingers scrabbling for purchase against the edge of the pool. He sets a ruthless pace, his hands holding you in place.

His hips slam into yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the pool.

Your body is completely at his mercy, the pleasure too intense to process. His grip is bruising on your hips, holding you in place. And yet, you want more. You push back on him, desperate for more.

“You wanted everything,” he murmured. “You’re getting it.”

His words are like a switch, turning you into a wanton mess under him.

He leans over you, his chest pressed against your back. His hands slide up your waist, trailing up your body to your breasts. He cups them in his hands, squeezing them roughly.

“You like that, huh?” He murmured, his fingers pinching hard on your nipples. “Like how I’m using you.”

You can only moaned in response, the roughness of the edge of the pool against your chest adding another layer of sensation. The water splashes around you, the sound echoing in the room. You can feel him everywhere, inside you, behind you, all over you.

It’s too much and you’re going to lose it soon

“Oh god, I’’m gonna- ah-“ you cry out.

His hand shoots up, grabbing your jaw and turning your head to the side. His mouth crashes into yours, his tongue invading your mouth. Your hands come up, grasping at his hair as he kisses you.

His tongue muffles your moans, but they were just replaced by the sound of the water sloshing around you as he continues to pound into your from behind. It fills the silence, his hips pushing against your ass, his skin sliding your skin..

You pull away from his mouth gasping for air, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen.

“Not yet.” He murmured, his hands tight around your waist.

His pace is brutal, his hips slams into yours with a force that sends waves of pleasure through you. He’s gripping you like his life depends on it and you feel like you’re going to break. But you wanted this.

"You asked for this, didn’t you? You wanted me to give you everything." He murmured, his voice low and rough in your ear.

You nod, unable to form any words.You feel him thicken inside you, his pace picking up even more. He’s close, you can tell by the way he’s panting in your ear. And yet he doesn’t stop.

“Open your mouth baby.” He murmured, and you clench around him at his words.

You part your lips, opening your mouth obediently. His fingers slide into your mouth, filling it up. You suck on them, your tongue swirling around them as if it was his cock. You moan around his fingers, your tongue swirling around them. It’s filthy. It’s dirty.

"God," he growled, his fingers still in your mouth. "You need your mouth full don’t you? You need something to keep you full."

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, you feel him slide a third finger into your mouth, filling your mouth even further.

You moaned around his fingers, the sounds coming out muffled and obscene. You could feel your clit twitch and throb at his words. You needed him everywhere, you needed more. You tried to push back against him, your body crying out for more, for release.

“God, you’re so loud.” He groaned. “You’re going to get us caugh. Do you want someone to watch you again? huh?"

His hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up, forcing you to look ahead. And there, in the far corner of the room, was a mirror.

You could see everything. You couldn’t look away. You could see the way you were bent over, your back arched and your ass up in the air. You could see his hips slamming into you from behind, the way his cock was covered in your juices.

You could see his face, dark and almost feral as he stares back at the mirror, his eyes fixed on yours face. Your face burned with humiliation and it only turned you on even more to see yourself like this.

“Seeing this turns you on, doesn’t it?” He murmured in your ear. "seeing yourself like this." Your hands scratched at the edge of the pool, your mind going blank as the pressure built up inside you.

His fingers pull out of your mouth, leaving you panting and gasping for air. His hands settle on your hips again, his grip tight as he pounds into you from behind. You could feel his balls slapping against your clit, the sensation driving you insane.

”God I’m close,” he groaned, his pace becoming even more unforgiving. His fingers dig into your hips, his hands holding you in place. You could feel him grow even harder inside you, the pressure almost too much to bear.

“Me too,” you managed to gasp out, your voice wrecked.

"You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you, huh? Take every last drop." He murmured, his pace becoming even more relentless. "God, fill you up so pretty. " he murmured, his grip on you tightening. "Come with me."

And with that, you’re tipped over the edge. A loud moan tears through your throat as your orgasm hits you, your body trembling and clenching around him.

He lets out a low groan, his fingers digging even deeper as he follows close behind. His hips still as he fills you up. His hand clenches around your jaw, “You’re so good to me, baby." He murmured. A shiver ran through your body as his words sunk in, your skin on fire from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through you.

You collapse boneless on top of the edge of the pool, you panting for air. Namjoon slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty and drained. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. His chest is resting on your back, his breaths coming in short pants against your skin. No one says anything for several moments. The only sounds in the room were the soft slapping of the water, as it splashes around you, and the sound of your uneven breaths.

Then, finally, Namjoon lets out a low groan and straightens up. You feel his hands on your waist, turning you around to face him. You look up at him, and finds him looking down at you with a small smile on his face. His hair is messy, sticking to his forehead in damp clumps. His cheeks are tinged red, his lips red and slightly swollen. He looked absolutely wrecked. You’ve probably looked worse.

He reaches one hand out, pushing your hair out of your face. His hand cups your chin, tilting your face up. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You okay, angel?" He murmured, his hands running up and down your arms. You nod, unable to form words still. He smiles at you, his other hand reaching down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Told you you'd warm up." He murmured, his grin turning smug. He reaches down, lifting you up bridal style. You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling too boneless to protest.

“You’re terrible, that was so dirty.” You groaned, burying your face into his neck. Your legs still felt week, your legs still shaking around his waist.

He laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Just the way you like it, baby.” He murmured. He steps out of the pool, his arms still holding you up. The cool nighttime air hits your heated skin, causing goosebumps to pepper your skin. Namjoon lets out a low whistle at the sight of your naked body.

He carries you over to a nearby bench, sitting you down gently. He kneels down between your thighs, his hands running up and down your legs, chasing away the cold.

“You good? Need an ice pack for that perfect ass?” he murmured jokingly.

You laugh, shaking your head. "God no." You murmur, still feeling too boneless to move.

Namjoon chuckles, his hands still running up and down your legs, warming you up. He stands up, picking up your discarded bikini top from the ground. He hands it to you, a small smirk on his face.

You groan, reaching out to take the bikini from him. You put it back on, struggling a bit to hook it back together. Namjoon watches you with amusement, his eyes lingering on your exposed skin as you fumble with the straps.

He chuckles, his hands sliding up your back to help you put the top on properly. His fingers graze your back as he hooks up the straps, sending goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“You’re so cute, it’s almost painful.” He murmured, reaching out to help you when you struggled with the strap, his fingers grazing your skin.

You stick your tongue out at him, trying to hide the fact that you were secretly preening at his words.

“Fuck off.” You huffed.

“So rude.” He murmured.

You roll your eyes, trying to act nonchalant. “You love me.” You murmur, your breath hitching in your chest as his fingers trail over your skin. He chuckles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Damn right I do.” He murmured against your skin.

Something about the way he said it, the possessiveness in his tone, has your stomach doing flips. You try to shake off the feeling as Namjoon sits down next to you on the bench.

“Come here.” He murmured, reaching out to pull you onto his lap. "Hug me."

You let out a small 'oomph' as he pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips. You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his neck like usual.

Namjoon lets out a satisfied hum, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. The two of you sit there in comfortable silence, his fingers running up and down your back, tracing your spine.

After a few moments, Namjoon speaks up. “I hope we didn’t traumatize anyone.” He murmured. His tone is light, a hint of humor underlying his words.

You let out a small chuckle, lifting your head from his neck to look at him. "You know we did." You joked.

Namjoon lets out a low chuckle. "I love you, angel." He murmured, his hands running up and down your back.

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. "I love you too." You murmur against his skin. His hands slide up your back, reaching up to play with the hair at the nape of your neck.

He lets out a soft sigh, his arms tightening around you. You feel his nose nuzzle into your shoulder, his face buried into the crook of your neck.

“I wanna just stay like this forever.” He murmured.

"You'd get sick of me." You murmured, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

Namjoon shakes his head, his hands sliding up to cup your face. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes soft.

"No, I wouldn’t." He murmured, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. "Never."

You feel your heart flutter at his words, your stomach doing flips. His gaze is unwavering, his eyes searching your face, as if he's trying to commit every feature to memory.

You take in his face too, tracing the outline of his jaw with your fingers. "Never?" You murmur, your voice soft and vulnerable.

Namjoon's hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you in place. His other hand remains on your cheek; his thumb strokes your bottom lip. "Never." He says, his voice firm, certain. He leans in, his lips hovering close to yours. "Not in a million years."

[levionlyyours]

Well Earned

☆ Summary: After a grueling day of training, Levi decides you've earned a reward—and he's determined to make sure you enjoy it.

☆ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Female Reader

☆ Genre/Tags: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Smut

☆ Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected piv, light praise kink, creampie

☆ Word Count: 1.2k

☆ Requested by @myfreespirit23 | Drabble game #1 #6 Do you think they heard us? Maybe we should give it a second round. Louder this time, just to be sure. #45 You've been good today, so spread your legs so I can fuck you with my tongue.

☆ AO3 Link

[ I could not find the original artist. If anyone knows who the OC is, please tell me so I can credit them properly! ]

Today was brutal: six hours of vertical maneuvering equipment drills, followed by three hours of hand-to-hand combat training that left your knuckles raw and your legs trembling.

Levi stares at you from across the mess hall. He hasn’t touched you all day—which isn’t abnormal, since he likes to keep a professional distance during the day, even though he shares your bed at night. The Scouts know, because how could they not? They see the way you interact everyday, the subtle shift in his gaze when you enter a room, how his orders to you carry an undercurrent of protectiveness that he extends to no one else. You’ve seen Hange smirk more than once when Levi had wordlessly refilled your water canteen before his own.

Now, he pushes the door open to his private quarters. Here, he’s yours, and you are his. Ranks dissolve. You become one.

“Strip,” he says, locking the door. His eyes have already begun their slow descent down your body. “You’re filthy.”

You peel away the sweat-stained uniform, watching as he does the same. He hangs his jacket, but his eyes never leave you. When you stand before him in nothing but the candlelight, skin flushed and marked with the day’s bruises, his expression softens.

“Come here,” he murmurs. You cross the small space between you, your breath hitching as his hands frame your waist. His thumbs trace the bones of your hips protruding against your skin, mapping the damage of the day. “You pushed too hard on the southern ridge today.”

“It’s fine,” you whisper. You don’t know what it is, but being this close to him after hours of forced separation—the captain barking orders across the training grounds while you drilled until your lungs burned—ignites a liquid heat low in your belly.

“It’s not fine,” he counters. He walks you backward until your knees hit the edge of his bed. The mattress is firm beneath you as you sink down. Levi follows, kneeling between your legs. His hands slide up your thighs, parting them. “But you performed well. Better than well.”

His breath ghosts against your inner thigh. You shift slightly, your fingers gripping his bedspread. The anticipation inside you coils tight, sharpening your senses until you can hear your heartbeat.

“You’ve been good today,” he says as he presses your knees wider, exposing you completely to his gaze. Those grey eyes, usually so cold and assessing in the field, burn now. “So spread your legs so I can fuck you with my tongue.”

You obey, the words sending a shockwave through you. You let your thighs fall open completely. Levi doesn’t hesitate—he never does, not when he’s dead set on a decision. He leans in, his mouth finding your cunt. 

His tongue traces your folds, intent on drawing out every possible response. He licks you slowly, then swirls upward to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves, circling, then retreating and diving to your sex again. 

“Levi,” you gasp. Your hips tilt toward his mouth involuntarily. One of his hands slides up to grip your hip, holding you steady.

Control. He always needs to control. Even here, even with his mouth on you and your taste on his lips, he’s your captain—demanding your surrender. And you give it, willingly, completely. Your head falls back against the mattress as he increases the pressure, tongue flicking in rapid strokes that have your hands flying to his hair, tangling in the dark strands.

He doesn’t rush. He builds your pleasure layer by layer. He brings two fingers up to press against your entrance, teasing before sliding deep. He pumps and curls in a rhythm that matches the working of his mouth. The dual sensation shatters you. All you can feel is the wet heat of his tongue, the stretch of his fingers, and the coil tightening in your lower abdomen.

Your release builds like a tide. When you cum, it crashes through you with such a force that your back bows off the bed, a cry tearing from your throat that you barely recognize as your own. Levi doesn’t relent, prolonging the spasms with gentle licks until you’re trembling and pushing at his shoulders with weak hands.

He rises then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sight of him—kneeling between your legs, face flushed, lips swollen and glistening—sends a wave of heat through your already-spent body. You watch breathlessly as he sheds the remainder of his clothing.

“Turn over,” he commands. “Hands on the headboard.”

Your muscles protest, but you obey, crawling to the middle of the bed and pushing to your knees, gripping the wooden slats of the headboard. You feel completely exposed. You feel the mattress shift as he moves behind you, his hands gripping your hips.

He enters you in one smooth thrust, filling you so completely that your breath catches. Your forehead drops against your knuckles. The stretch burns perfectly, a sweet ache that has you pushing back against him, desperate for more. Levi groans, a low sound that vibrates through his chest. For a moment, he stills, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed against your shoulder blade.

This. This is what he needs after today—this surrender to intimacy and rapture.

Then he moves, and all coherent thoughts disappear. He sets a fast rhythm, each thrust pushing you forward against the headboard. He’s relentless, angling his hips to strike that deep, perfect spot inside you with every stroke. His hands are rough on your waist, pulling you back onto him with force that will surely leave bruises come morning.

“Fuck,” he grits out. “You feel—so—”

You push back to meet him, your knuckles blanched against the wood. Your exhaustion from today has transformed into something more primal. A need to be claimed. Marked. Owned by a man who commands soldiers but trembles when he’s inside you.

Levi’s hand snakes around your hip, finding the swollen nub of your clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles. You sob his rank and name in broken alternation—“Captain, Levi, please”—until the world whites out. 

Your second climax rips through you violently. Your inner walls clamp down around him. He curses, his rhythm faltering. Three more deep thrusts and he buries himself all the way, his body pulling taut as he paints your inner walls. His teeth find the space where your neck and shoulder meet to muffle his own raw cry.

Silence crashes down, broken only by the sound of your mutual ragged breathing. He falls forward, his weight pressing you into the mattress for a moment before he shifts. He withdraws carefully and pulls you down with him. You lie against his chest, trembling, listening to the slowing thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

Levi’s fingers trace idle patterns along your spine. Then he tilts his head, his ear cocked toward the wall that separates his quarters from the general shared quarters corridor. A wicked smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you think they heard us?” he asks. His hand slides down to grip your ass. “Maybe we should give it a second round. Louder this time, just to be sure.”

You laugh, the sound muffled against his collarbone. You wonder if they did hear. And perhaps, if they did, you wonder if they know that their immaculate, terrifying captain is currently tangled in the sheets with you, planning to wreck you all over again.

MASTERLIST ♡ JOIN THE TAGLIST ♡ AO3 ♡ WATTPAD ♡ KO-FI

tags: @saccharinefool @bunbun6casp @levkuna @strangeeaglepost @how-interesting-wow @d1leviglazer @y44washere4somereason @nickibunny23 @slaytherinthoughts @levishart @gloomyveil @levislolita @nerdskillz @elegantmakercoffee @444anya @miaszt @daisyy-lev @naxymoon @caliope13 @wh0r3f0rchoso @starfallenlevi @altpsyche @tea-rae @ssomethingalieen @starryscara @starlighttitan @leviholics @angelbearknyyy

divider by: sweetmelodygraphics

[jiminsafairy]

☆ your paradise — yoongi ☆

☆ pairing : husband!yoongi x pregnantWife!reader

☆ summary: your babymoon brings out a surprisingly possessive side of your husband 

☆ tags: smut, fluff? ,married couple au, pregnant reader, jealous!yoongi

☆ warnings: pregnant sex, semi-public sex, exhibitionism if you squint ?, oral (f and m receiving), tit play, nipple play, blowjob, cum swallowing, cum eating, unprotected sex, body worship, light degradation cause he calls her a slut sorry

☆ wc: 5.4k

☆ yoru’s notes: based off this request!

The whole idea of going on a babymoon was Yoongi's. He started talking about it when you were around sixteen weeks, insisting the two of you needed to get away and just relax before the baby came.

You picked Jeju because it was close enough to avoid a long flight, but still felt like a proper vacation. Now that you were almost entering your third trimester and starting to feel absolutely worn out, you couldn't think of anything you wanted more than a few quiet days alone with him.

He holds the door open and shifts to the side, giving you space to climb out. Placing your hand over the top of your belly as you watch your husband walk to the back of the taxi that brought you from the airport, watching the driver unload your luggage from the trunk. 

After slipping the man a generous tip, the driver thanks Yoongi before driving off.

“Ready?” Yoongi asks, grabbing the handles of the suitcases.

You nod, walking beside him through the doors of the lobby, silently thanking whoever decided to keep the air conditioning on full blast. 

The receptionist greets you. You hand over your IDs, and while Yoongi handles the rest of the check-in, your attention drifts to the tiger lilies and white hydrangeas arrangements displayed around the lobby. 

A few minutes later, the receptionist gives you two key cards and explains how to get to your room. Yoongi thanks her before reaching for the cards.

After a quick ride up the elevator, you make your way down the hallway until you stop outside your room. He taps the key card against the lock before pushing the door open. 

The room is even nicer than it looked online. A king-size bed sits in the middle of the room, with a small desk tucked neatly into one corner. Your gaze drifts from the bed to the balcony, curious about the view. 

"Well?" Yoongi asks behind you. "Do you like it?"

You grin. "Are you kidding?" you say, already making your way toward the balcony. "It's amazing." 

Yoongi sets the bags down and stretches his arms. He can't help but smile at your excitement. "What do you want to do first?" 

Sliding the door open, you step out. “Mmh, we could go down there,” you say, signaling the pool down below, turning your head back to look at him. “Go to the pool. Lay in the sun for a bit, maybe go for a swim.”

Yoongi joins you, slipping his arms around your waist. His hands spread across your belly, rubbing it, and you melt against him.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Another kiss lands behind your ear before he eases you around to face him.  “Come on, go change.” He gives your ass a playful slap, making you squeal as he nudges you toward the room. 

On the mattress, the suitcases are already laid out wide open. You could kiss Yoongi for not leaving them on the floor, knowing how much you would struggle to bend over and reach anything with your belly right now. 

You grab your toiletry bag first before reaching into the side pocket for your bikini. It's a cute set, bright pink with tiny white polka dots. The triangle top matches a pair of bottoms that tie into little bows at your hips. 

Inside the bathroom, you pull your hair into a ponytail before smoothing sunscreen over your face. 

Quickly sliding off your clothes, you reach for the bikini top. You slip the strings over your neck before reaching behind your back to tie it in place. It fit perfectly the last time you tried it on, but when you look down, you realize just how much your breasts have grown since then. 

“Oh, shit,” you mutter, staring at yourself in the mirror.

The fabric barely holds your tits, leaving most of your chest entirely exposed to the point where you feel like you might as well go topless. Thankfully, the bottoms are a much easier story since you only have to tie the side strings into neat little bows on your hips to make them fit.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you trace the new curves of your body. It still feels strange to see yourself so round and full. Some days the changes leave you feeling strangely disconnected from your own skin, but keeping in mind that your body is transforming to grow a whole new life helps you accept it a bit more. 

Carrying the proof of your and Yoongi's love makes your heart burst with love every single time you think about it.

When you walk back into the bedroom, Yoongi is sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the string of his swim shorts. “I'm ready,” you announce, stepping into his line of sight.

“Perfect,” he says, tugging the strings into a tight knot before looking at you.

“Be honest,” you sigh as you look down at yourself. “I look like a whale, don't I?”

"What? No!" Yoongi steps in, drawing you closer. "You look fucking incredible. Stop talking nonsense." 

Leaning down, his lips graze over yours before his eyes wander lower. His fingertips linger on the little bows at your hips, idly rolling one between his fingers 

“In fact,” he says, his touch sliding down your thigh until he hooks your leg around his hip, “we should get out of this room right now.” 

“Why?” you ask, giving him a cheeky look. 

“Because you look so fucking hot, that if we stay here for one more minute,” he murmurs, leaving a kiss on your neck. “I am going to lock that door,” he continues, his lips sliding up to your jaw, “put you on all fours on that big ass bed,” he adds, rocking his hips forward, “and fuck you right into the mattress until you can’t even think straight. And I know you’ll love every minute of it,” he finishes.

Oh, you definitely would.

“Down, boy. Let’s go get some sun first.” Shifting away, you pull a light cover-up over your skin before making your way toward the door. Your hand is already on the handle when you glance back over your shoulder, a teasing smile playing on your lips.  "You can fuck me later." 

Yoongi chuckles as he follows you outside, tugging at his shorts in a hopeless attempt to disguise the bulge straining against the front.

The pool is less crowded than you expected. You spot two lounge chairs tucked beneath a canvas umbrella and make a beeline for them. After a few minutes, a young man wearing the resort uniform makes his way over from the pool bar, stopping at the foot of your loungers. 

“Welcome to the Paradise Oasis,” he says, handing over the beverage menu. “I’m Jihoon, your server for the afternoon. Can I get you something to drink?” 

He says all of this while keeping his eyes entirely on you, blatantly ignoring Yoongi. 

Your husband clears his throat. “I'll have a whiskey. On the rocks,” he says without even glancing at the menu and he hands it back. Then he looks at you. “What do you want, baby?”

“A virgin mojito, please,” you say, smiling at the waiter.

“A whiskey and a virgin mojito,” your husband repeats.

The guy seems to remember Yoongi exists. “Uh, yes, sir. Right away, sir,” he says, backing away toward the bar.

Once he's gone, you glance over at your husband. Yoongi lets out a quiet huff before lowering his sunglasses over his eyes. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “The nerve on these kids.” 

Not much later the waiter returns, carefully placing the two glasses down on the small table between you. He keeps his look down this time, avoiding any look at you, and quickly bows before disappearing again.

By the time evening rolls around, you both head down to the main restaurant on the first floor for dinner. 

“Is it good?” he asks, watching you take a bite.

You nod happily after swallowing. "Perfect," you say, reaching across to steal one of his grilled vegetables. 

“So, what are we doing tomorrow?” you ask, resting your chin on your hand. Your fingers tap absently against your cheek before your eyes suddenly light up. “Oh, I know what!”

Pulling out your phone, you unlock it to find the clip you were thinking about. “I saw this on YouTube,” you say, holding the screen out to him. The video shows a couple walking along a seaside trail.  “It looks pretty easy, doesn't it?” 

Yoongi leans in for a closer look. He doubts you'll be able to walk more than two kilometers before your feet start to hurt, but he isn't about to be the one to deny you anything, even if it means he has to carry you all the way back to the hotel on his back. He just wants you to be happy on this trip.

Putting his glass down, he smiles. “We can do whatever you want, baby. I'm down for anything. Staying in the room all day sounds pretty good to me, too.” 

You kick his leg lightly under the table, laughing as your face heats up. As tempting as that sounds, there are still plenty of things you want to see while you're here. 

When you get back to the room, you can feel the day catching up with you. Waking up early to catch your flight and traveling to Jeju left you utterly exhausted. Walking over to the bed, you try to get comfortable against the headboard, but it only takes a second to realize something's off. 

“Baby,” you call, trying to shift into a better position. “There aren't enough pillows here. You know I need one under my belly and another between my knees, or I'm never going to sleep tonight.” 

Yoongi looks over at the bed. “There are only two?” He glances around the room before opening the wardrobe, hoping they've stashed a few extras inside. The shelves are empty. 

“This is supposed to be a luxury hotel,” he mutters. “Why the hell are there only two pillows?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, rubbing your bump. “Can you call reception and ask for more?”

“Of course, baby,” he says, walking over to the small desk where the room phone sits. 

It only rings twice before someone picks up. “Front desk, how can I help you tonight?”

“Hello, this is room 939,” Yoongi says politely. “My wife is pregnant and we need some extra pillows to make her comfortable. Can you send up three or four more?”

“Certainly, sir. We will send someone up with those right away.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi says, hanging up the phone.

While you wait, you decide to jump into the shower.

A knock sounds at the door and Yoongi tosses his phone aside and goes to answer it. Standing in the hallway is the same young waiter from the pool with a stack of fresh white pillows balanced in his arms.

“H-hi again, sir,” the waiter stammers. He looks – and sounds – nervous. “I was told to bring these up here for you.”

Before Yoongi has a chance to say anything, the bathroom door clicks open behind him. Changed into your pajamas, you step out of the bathroom with a towel in your hands, rubbing it through your damp hair. 

You’d stubbornly refused to buy actual maternity clothes, choosing instead to squeeze into what you already owned, which in hindsight, was a terrible plan. 

The blue cotton top that once easily covered you is now little more than a poor excuse for a crop top. Stretched so tight it's practically bursting, the fabric clings to your engorged tits like a second skin, doing absolutely nothing to hide the shape of your nipples poking right through it. Somehow, it feels even more revealing than the bikini you'd been wearing earlier. 

The waiter looks over at you as he fumbles with the fluffy white cushions. 

“Well?” Yoongi asks, extending his hand toward him.

“What?” the waiter stammers, trying to look past Yoongi's shoulder. “Oh–yeah. Right.” He nearly drops the pillows before awkwardly passing them over. “Do you... do you need anything else tonight?” 

Yoongi takes the pillows as he glares down at the man. “No, thanks. My wife and I are good. You can leave,” he says, putting a cold emphasis on the word ‘wife’.

The waiter opens his mouth to say something else, but Yoongi shuts the door right in his face, and you hear the click of the lock. He drops the pillows onto the chair.

You stand there with your hands on your hips, your foot tapping against the floor as your eyebrows raise. “Min Yoongi! What was that?”

Yoongi blinks, trying to look innocent. “What was what?”

“That behavior,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I wasn't doing anything,” Yoongi mutters, walking toward the bed.

“Yes, you were,” you say. “Don't even try to gaslight me, mister.”

“The guy has zero boundaries,” he argues, defending himself. “He was doing the exact same thing at the pool, staring at you like he's never seen a woman before. It's entirely out of line and unprofessional if you ask me.” He takes the pillows from the chair and puts them on the bed, murmuring under his breath about resort staff needing better training. 

“Just pee on my feet to mark me next time, will you?” Letting out a frustrated sigh, you turn around and walk straight out onto the balcony.

Resting your hands on the metal railing , you let your eyes wander across the grounds. Down below, the winding paths are illuminated by garden lights as a few resort employees collect towels and straighten up around the pool. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear the waves breaking against the shore.

You don't really understand it. Yoongi is usually very relaxed about everything, so this sudden change feels entirely out of nowhere.

In the past, you had to deal with the insecure, controlling behavior of your exes, so Yoongi’s quiet confidence had always been one of the things you loved the most about him.

A moment later, the door open and Yoongi steps out onto the balcony.

His voice cuts into the quiet of the night. “Look, baby, I–” Yoongi starts. He lets out a long sigh and his shoulders drop “I’m sorry.” 

You don't turn around, keeping your eyes on the trees below. “You were acting weird, Yoongi.”

“I know,” he sighs. He bows his head against the back of your shoulder, both palms coming to rest over your belly.  “I’m really sorry, baby. I don't even know what came over me tonight. It’s just… you look so beautiful carrying our child. The way that guy was staring at you like you were a piece of meat just drove me insane.”

You turn around in his hold, your belly pressing against his stomach as you look up into his eyes. “You’re lucky you're so cute,” you whisper, getting up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss right on his lips. “I forgive you.” 

Yoongi breaks away to press his lips down your jaw, burying his face in your neck, pulling you as close as your belly allows. 

“I love you so much,” Yoongi murmurs against your skin between kisses.

“Me too,” you gasp, gripping the linen of his shirt. 

He steers you around until you're leaning against the cool metal railing. Then he wraps himself around you, his palms spreading over your belly. His mouth drops to your shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your skin. 

“My beautiful wife.” He nudges his hips against you, his cock pushing against your ass. “Do you feel me?” he rasps. “Do you feel what you do to me, baby? 

Heat rushes straight between your legs, your pussy clenching around nothing. You nod.

“What should we do about it, mmh?” Yoongi asks, tracing down your thigh. 

“Baby…”

His thumb hooks into your waistband. “I have a few ideas,” he whispers, slipping beneath the fabric of your shorts and into your underwear. His palm presses against you, thumb rubbing circles over your clit. 

“Yoongi… oh God,” you moan as your hips rock back into his hand. “Here?” 

He keeps touching you, but his eyes lift to check the surroundings. Both sides of the balcony are flanked by tall stone walls, blocking the view from the other rooms. But being on the second floor means that if someone down on the paths or by the pool were to look up, they might see what you two are doing. 

He brings his mouth to your ear. “This place is perfect, you just have to be quiet,” Yoongi grunts, his thumb working over your clit. His other hand disappears beneath your top, wrapping around one breast as his fingers toy with the nipple.

“Can you do that for me, baby?” He tugs your nipple with his fingers, letting breast bounce against his palm when he lets go. “Keep those pretty noises down…” he murmurs, leaving a row of wet kisses along your neck while his thumb continues to circle your clit, “while I make you feel good?” 

You’re already dripping wet. “I–I can... fuck,” you stammer, resting your head against his shoulder. “I can try.” 

“Good girl,” he mutters. His touch leaves your breasts before he reaches for the waistband of your pants, hooking his fingers into the elastic. “Is this okay?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you whisper.

With your approval, he starts pulling them down along with your underwear, and you lift your feet to get out of them.

Kicking the fabric aside, you turn around to face him. You go straight to Yoongi's shirt, fumbling with the buttons in your hurry. He chuckles, making no move to help, far too entertained by the way your tits keep bouncing every time you tug at another button.

As soon as you manage to get him out of the shirt, you slide down his pants, dragging them over his hips until the piece of clothing pools at his feet. You barely have a second to admire your work before he's reaching for your top, stripping it off.

“Mmmh,” he whispers, cupping your bare breasts. “No wonder that guy couldn't stop staring at your tits. So fucking beautiful.” His palms stroke over your skin  “Too bad for him. You're mine.”

Bending his knees slightly, Yoongi lowers his head to take one nipple into his mouth. Your eyes fly shut, gripping his arms when his teeth lightly graze the peak. He draws your nipple deeper into his mouth, and the moan escapes before you can swallow it back. 

Oops.

Yoongi lets the nipple go, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “You need to be quiet, baby,” he murmurs, an amused smile appearing on his lips. “We’re right outside, remember?” 

You huff. As if he isn't the one doing this on purpose.

“I can't help it,” you gasp while you try to focus. “I just – fuck, Yoongi, it feels too good.”

“I know, baby. Just be good and keep it down for now, okay?” His mouth finds your breast again, his lips closing around your nipple as his tongue works over it. You whine softly. “Come on. Be good for me.” His lips linger against your nipple. “Don't make me punish you.”

Well, you won't be the one complaining if he does. Somehow, his so-called punishments always end with you begging him not to stop. 

Your fingers grip his shoulders as he pulls your nipple into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks. “Oh God... mmh, yes. Right there...”

Pregnancy has made your nipples unbelievably sensitive, and your lovely husband discovered just how sensitive they were one night while the two of you were watching a movie. 

His hand had slipped beneath your shirt, coming to rest on your breast almost out of habit. The movie kept playing in the background, but neither of you was paying much attention by the time his thumb started rolling your puffy nipple between his fingers. It didn't take long before you were whining into his neck and soaking your underwear as the orgasm took over you.

Like he can't help himself, his free hand finds your other breast. His thumb rolls over your nipple once again. “Yoongi…,” you whimper. “I want you inside me. Please fuck me.”

Lifting his head, he reluctantly lets the swollen peak slip from his lips, but he can't resist one last scrape of his tongue across the tip. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs, turning you gently by the waist. “Be patient for me, love. Let your husband take care of you.” He guides you forward until you're leaning over the railing, your forearms flat against the metal to support your weight.

After shoving his underwear down, you whine when the thick head of his cock drags up and down your slit, smearing your own juices all over himself. 

“You’re so wet…Bet I could slide right in with no effort, baby.”

He lines the broad tip right against your opening, pushing in just a couple of inches so you can feel how thick he is, but he stops, not going further inside you.

“See? So easy,” he murmurs. “Ah, ah, not yet,” he whispers, holding you still when your hips try to chase him. “I want to eat that pussy first.” 

You swallow a curse as he strokes the tip between your folds instead of pushing back inside. One last pass through your folds, then he's kneeling behind you, both hands settling on your ass before spreading you open. 

It takes everything you've got not to scream when his tongue glides through your folds, but a helpless whimper slips past your lips the moment his mouth closes around your clit.

“Oh god, Yoon–fuck, please, I–”

You're dripping, soaking his mouth and chin as he laps up your wetness.“You taste so good, baby. So sweet,” Yoongi murmurs against your skin. “Such a good pregnant cunt you have. I want more of this. Let me feel how wet you are.” 

“I'm gonna…” Your hips helplessly twitch against his face as the climax sweeps through your body.

“That's it, baby, give it to me,” Yoongi grunts against your soaking folds, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you open as he licks you clean. “Fuck... there you go.” 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he pushes himself to his feet before reaching for your hips, drawing you back against him until your ass presses right against his thighs.  He lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes inside, filling you inch by inch.

“Now,” he murmurs, “is this what you wanted?” He kisses your shoulder. “Move, Yoon. Please.”

Being out here in the open, where anyone down by the pool or walking the paths could look up and catch you like this, should make you freeze with fear. You don't even know what is happening to you right now, but instead of panicking, the danger of getting caught just makes you shameless. And wetter. 

Yoongi notices too, groaning as your body gets even slicker, making him slide inside you with almost ridiculous ease. “What’s that, baby?” You can hear the smile in his voice when he murmurs against your neck. “You like this, right? Fucking you out here where anyone can catch us?”

You had never thought of yourself as someone who would get turned on by the risk of being seen, yet here you are.

“I know you do,” Yoongi grunts. “I can feel you tightening around me”.  He keeps pushing his hips into yours. 

“You looked so hot coming out of the shower,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your shoulder, reaching around to pinch your nipples. You let out a weak whimper. 

“I should have fucked you right in front of that guy. Made him watch me put my cock inside you.” He continues to play with them, his fingers pinching and twisting the tight buds until you cry into the night. “Show that imbecile who you belong to, baby,” he growls. His thrusts turn harder. “Would you have shown him, hm? Let him see exactly how beautiful you look when you take me?”

Just minutes ago, he looked ready to beat the waiter to a pulp. Now he's talking about fucking you right in front of him. You really don't know what's gotten into either of you tonight. You swallow. “Yes, Yoongi... God, yes.”

“Who do you belong to, baby?” he demands. 

“I’m yours,” you gasp, tilting your head back to find his lips. “You know I'm yours. Only yours.”

“Tell me who bred this pussy,” His thumb rolls over your nipple again,  “Who fucked a baby into you, mmh? Say it.”

“You,” you sob. “You did, Yoon.” 

A grin spreads across his face. Fuck, he loves hearing you say that. 

“That’s my girl.” Straightening his posture, he grabs your hips, pistoning harder and faster into your heat. “Now cum for me. Squeeze me. Let me feel that pregnant cunt around my cock.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think I can, Yoongi...”

“You can. You’ll cum for me, baby.”

A sound echoes in the night when he slaps your ass, a scream tearing from the back of your throat. Looking down, you watch a couple stop on the path below , both of them looking around, trying to figure out where the noise came from.

“Shh, baby,” Yoongi whispers, his hand clamping flat over your mouth to swallow your cries. “Or would you like them to see, hm?” Yoongi whispers. “To see how your bred pussy takes my cock? Mmm? You're so filthy, baby.”

Trapped beneath his hand, every sound you make is reduced to a muffled whimper. “Keep making noises like that, and I’ll have to shove my cock down your throat just to shut you up.” He pants, reaching up to pinch your nipple. Your inner muscles squeeze tightly around him as you climax. His head buries in your neck. “Fuck, you're milking my cock so good.” 

Slowly, he drags his length out of your wetness. “Wait here,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the back of your neck before he finally pulls back.

Looking over your shoulder, you almost laugh as you watch him hurry into the bedroom, fully naked. He comes back seconds later with a thick white towel in his hands, carefully dropping it onto the floor and helping you get down onto your knees.

Yoongi's eyes wander slowly over you, pausing on the curve of your belly before drifting to your engorged tits, your puffy nipples. Eventually, they find your face again. Flushed cheeks, damp hair sticking to your skin, and that smile. The prettiest smile in the world, if you ask him. 

God, you've never looked more beautiful. 

“I don't know how the fuck you can ever look in a mirror and tell yourself you look ugly,” he murmurs. His fingers hook under your chin, tilting your face up. “Look at what you do to me.” He gestures down to his hard length to prove his point. “You’re fucking stunning, pretty. Absolutely perfect.”

His thumb swipes over your bottom lip before he slips two fingers right into your mouth, coating them in your saliva. “But baby… you couldn't keep quiet out there, could you? You just had to let the whole place hear you.”

He slips his hand from your mouth and wraps it around his cock, holding it right in front of your face. “Open,” he commands.

You stare straight up into his eyes, slowly sliding your tongue out to give him a dirty look. His grip tightens around himself as he guides the tip forward, giving it a light slap against your tongue. 

“Mm...” He does it again. You look up at him before closing your lips around the tip, your tongue tracing a lazy circle around it. “So eager.” 

You keep your lips wrapped around the head, sucking gently while your tongue glides beneath it.

"Greedy little thing," Yoongi groans. "Can't wait to have your mouth full of my cock, can you? C'mon, relax your jaw for me." 

Breathing through your nose, you let him ease another inch into your mouth. Brushing your hair back, he gathers it loosely at the nape of your neck.  “Mm, that's it,” he pants. “Just like that, pretty girl. Keep going.” 

Yoongi's chest rises and falls as he looks down at you. Fuck. Every part of him wants to grab you by the hair and fuck your mouth until he fills you with his cum, but he manages to hold back, pausing to check on you first. 

“You okay, baby?” he asks. “Not too much?”

You blink up at him, humming softly around his cock to let him know you're perfectly fine. “That's my girl,” he murmurs, dragging his knuckles down your cheek. “I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, baby. Tap my thigh if it's too much, okay?”

Bracing against his legs, you let him begin pushing slowly in and out of your mouth. Your lips stretch around his thickness as he grips your hair to guide your head. 

“Fuck, yes,” Yoongi pants, watching you hollow your cheeks to take him even deeper. “Right there, baby. Fuck, you look so hot,” he gasps, staring down at the way your mouth closes around him, “shit. Too good.” 

He starts pushing deeper, his thrusts getting harsher as he slides down your throat. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you keep looking up at him, your fingers squeezing his thigh. You could tap if you wanted to, but you don't.

Knowing he's right on the edge, he pulls out before things get to be too much for you. His palm closes around his cock, slick with your saliva, as he begins stroking himself. 

“I’m close, baby,” Yoongi pants, his strokes getting faster and shorter as his thumb puts pressure right on the sensitive tip. “So close.”

You let your hands drag up from his thighs, bringing them to your own chest to pinch and roll your nipples between your fingers while you look straight up at him. “Will you cum for me, Yoongi? Please? I've been so good for you, right?”

He laughs, pumping his cock faster as he watches your fingers grip your nipples. “You're such a needy little slut, aren't you? So desperate for my cum.”

You want his cum on your tongue. Want to see him break and lose what little control he has left in him. You’re ready to do absolutely anything to make him cum. Even though you just reached your climax, you can feel your arousal dripping down your legs. You really are a slut. 

His slut. 

“Yes,” you whimper, tilting your head back to stare directly at his twitching length. “I’m your slut.” 

“Squeeze your tits for me. Pinch your nipples, baby. Be good and show me how you play with them.”

You play right along, squeezing your tits together, staring up at him as you offer your tongue out again, your fingers twisting your nipples until a quiet whine slips from your lips. His hips buck. Still stroking himself, he brings the tip of his cock in front of your open mouth.

“Fuck–baby,” Yoongi gasps. “Shit. Shit!”

The first spurt lands right on your tongue. The next lands across your chest, slowly running down your skin. 

He keeps stroking himself until there's nothing left. Standing over you, his attention focuses on your mouth, your tongue still holding his cum. “Swallow.” 

You don't break eye contact with him as you gulp it down, and then you open your mouth again, sticking your tongue out to show him it's totally clean. “Good girl.” 

He pulls you up from the floor, looking down at the mess on your breasts and chuckles. “I think you’ll need another shower.”

“And whose fault is that?” you say, nudging him lightly.

He grins, his look still fixed on your chest. Leaning in, he drags his tongue slowly over your left breast, licking up a stripe of his own cum before swallowing. Then he looks up at you with a smirk. “Let me help you wash it off.”

m.list ☆ yoongi m.list ☆ join my taglist

taglist @bammbi-jeon127 @kookdollia @felxvrs @fkingl0ser  @hoofymalone @09zpzkeonnss @bravelyvaliantreservoir @hoemeprazole @j0cgr0c @kissintae @coletaehyung @eyesforjungkook @m4aimm @mar-lo-pap @dinosaurshapedcloud-blog @joonie1213 @maxi-love-jeon @seeyouinheaveen @justreadingficsdontmindme @sftlrmin @audreyny @thvsgirll @gizaspicebag @bjoriis @libra04 @bustaken @celliez 

[97dollz]

( 𝓘𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘 ) 𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ˖Ი𐑼⋆ nsfw +++ mdni. no matter how embarrassing your deepest desires might be, your lovely boyfriend will always gladly let you take a seat in your fantasy... even if it means letting you ride his abs right there on the couch.

sitting on the edge of the sofa, you couldn't help but stare at your lap. your fingers tangled nervously in the hem of your shirt, your breathing just a little too shallow, and of course, HOSEOK noticed.

he was currently sprawled next to you, completely shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of loose black shorts because he was allowed to do whatever he wanted in his own home. but looking at the sculpted planes of his chest, the sharp line of his collarbones, the effortless way he exuded warmth, is when it suddenly hit you. how did i actually manage to bag someone like him? what did it even mean that jung hoseok, a global superstar and literal sunshine personified, was your boyfriend?

"baby," he murmured, his deep voice pulling you out of your trance. he leaned closer, his warm breath fanning over your cheek as you pointedly avoided his eyes. "you’re playing with your hands. you only do that when you have something on your mind. you know you can share anything and everything with me, right?"

"it's nothing, hobi," you whispered, face heating up.

"your heart is beating like crazy, though." he let out a low chuckle, reaching out to gently capture your wrists to stop your fidgeting, "tell you what... if you don't tell me in the next three seconds, i'm going to have to tickle it out of you. one... two..."

"i want to try something new!" you blurted out, the words rushing out in a desperate gasp. "i..." you squeezed your eyes shut, your cheeks burning. "i want to ride your abs."

hoseok froze, and his slightly shocked face was priceless. he took a step back mentally, blinking once, then twice. the man looked down at his own toned stomach, then back up at your red-hot face. slowly, a lazy and incredibly smug smirk spread across his lips.

“oh… oh, okay. we’re doing that tonight.”

without another word, he slid backward on the couch, spreading his long arms across the back of the cushions like a king settling onto his throne. his eyes tracked your every move as you hesitantly crawled onto his lap, sliding forward, lowering your soaked pussy directly onto his carved stomach.

you let out a soft gasp at the contact, your thighs trembling as you begin to grind. it was slow, the heat of your wet folds rubbing directly against the defined ridges of his abdomen. your boyfriend let out a low grunt, flexing beneath you, as the sudden pressure made a whimper tear from your throat.

"princess... you’re so wet i can hear it."

you groaned, your head rolling back. through your half-closed eyes, you watched the way your own slick was beginning to coat his golden skin, shining under the dim living room lights. his thick cock was throbbing just inches below you, but his abs were driving you absolutely insane.

"you’re getting off on my fucking stomach right now," hoseok rasped, his hand coming up to grip your hip, guiding your rhythm. "that’s the hottest shit i’ve ever seen."

"h-hobi..." you whined his name, closing your eyes tight as you rolled your hips up and down, the sensation of his flexing muscles pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“keep going, baby,” his thumb caressing your hip bone. “don’t stop until you come. wanna feel that pretty pussy cum make a mess all over me.”

with a broken cry and completely undone by his voice. he watched you with a proud gaze, squeezing your hip as you shuddered, your walls tightening, and when you cum, he doesn't move. just watches before he grabs your wrist and pulls you forward. as you collapsed against his chest, panting and trembling, hoseok wrapped his arms securely around your waist, pulling you close.

"my girl’s got a thing for abs, huh?"

hiding your face in the crook of his neck, a tiny whine slips past your lips as the reality of what you'd just done hits you like a hurricane. you are so incredibly down for this man, so weak for the way he praised you and loved every part of you.

" you did so well, yeah?" hoseok felt you tremble against him. his hands slid down from your hips to grip your thighs, lifting you just enough to align you with the bludge straining against his shorts. "now let's give you the real reward."

© 97DOLLZ do not copy, repost or modify my work.

saw him on d1 munich, and this man completely bias wrecked me (and not him having the audacity to do the hip thrust move right in front of my face), so i had to write something !

taglist ( dm or comment to be added ) ⋆ @strhwa @way2jellyous @tinyfixon @thatonelocalbookworm @kookied

[pennyellee]

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲

title: remedy (elixir filler/bonus scene) pairings: mafia hoseok, yandere!hoseok x f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s beta read: lovely @chaoticpuff17

summary: Desperate for air, you bargain for his brownstone, believing a smaller cage might be easier to survive, while Hoseok hears only one thing: you want a world where no one else can reach you but him. 

warnings: MDNI! 18+ / obsessive/possessive love, controlling behaviour disguised as care, emotional manipulation, toxic devotion, power imbalance, early pregnancy symptoms, morning sickness/vomiting, references to past alcohol abuse and medication changes, reproductive coercion implied, birth control tampering mentioned, transactional intimacy, explicit sexual content, rough sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, doggy style, creampie, possessive pillowtalk, breeding/claiming undertones, etc.

❝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔❞ 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐑

It wakes you before the light does. Not a very pleasant feeling. A feeling you haven’t felt for a long while. At least since you put out everything Yoongi said you should. You lost some weight in the process, and the puffiness you sported is long gone. Only bones remain. 

Hoseok hates it. He doesn’t say it outright, but you see it—in the way his eyes linger a second too long, in the way his hand always finds your waist now, like he’s measuring what’s missing.

He’s forcing you to eat more regularly now. To heal your body. The truth is, this might be the healthiest you’ve ever been, but it isn’t so long since you stopped drinking. It terrifies you beyond repair. The thought alone makes something twist low in your stomach.

And that’s when it hits again.

Harder this time.

A sharp, rolling nausea that pulls you fully out of bed before you can even process it. Your breath hitches as your hand flies to your mouth, the sensation rising too fast, too sudden to ignore.

“No—”

You barely make it to your feet.

The room spins slightly as you rush out, your bare feet hitting the cold floor, each step uneven as your body betrays you. Your stomach clenches again, violently, and you grab the wall for support.

The bathroom door slams open, and you drop to your knees just in time.

It comes up in harsh waves, your body folding in on itself as you grip the edge of the toilet, knuckles whitening. Your throat burns, your eyes sting, and the force of it leaves you breathless between each heave.

It’s not like before.

Not like the mornings after drinking.

Your stomach continues to twist even when there’s nothing left, your body still trying to expel something that isn’t there. A broken rhythm of breath and tension leaves you trembling, your forehead nearly resting against the cool porcelain.

“…what the fuck…” Your voice is barely there. How Larkie went through morning’s nausea without complaining is just a mystery to you.

“You fucking did this to me.” You mutter, absolutely displeased with emptying your guts to the toilet before seven am. You know he’s been standing in the doorway of the bathroom. After so many years, you just learned how to sense him when he’s near. 

“You seemed to like it when I was hitting it from behind.”

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲 is now available on patreon for fairies club subscribers or single purchase.

until we meet again my fairies, love, p.

[gukcnt]

QUIETLY YOURS ★ JJK [ TEASER ]

your uni boyfriend jungkook has been missing you after weeks of being apart, both of you busy with classes and exams. through late night texts, he finally admits just how much he needs you. one thing leads to another and before you know it, you're sneaking into his dorm room... and he needs to be inside your pussy even if his roommate sleeps only a few feet away.

PAIRING ﹕ bf!jungkook x gf!f.reader

GENRE ﹕ established relationship au, smut, fluff, angst

WARNINGS ﹕ 18+, explicit smut, yearning and sexual fantasies, sexting, sharing nudes, mutual maturation while on a phone call, multiple orgasms, reader grinds on the edge of the table, cock fisting and stroking, spit kink, dirty talk and praise kink, she sneaks into his dorm at night, they struggle to stay quiet, risky/semi-public sex, makeout and hickies, oral sex (f. receiving), so much teasing, clit play, breast and nipple play, fingering, pussy eating, cum play, edging and overstimulation, oral sex (m. receiving), blowjob, he's so sensitive, multiple positions, scratching and biting, creampie, slow and rough sex, cum stuffing and cockwarming, they almost get caught, sweet loving aftercare, more tags to be added...

WC ﹕ 15k+ ( estimated )

NOTE ﹕ enjoy this little teaser of the oneshot i'm currently working on sweet loves! i'm hoping to post it soon <3

TAGLIST ﹕ OPEN .ᐟ

❪ MASTERLIST | READ ON WATTPAD ❫

“shh baby…”

jungkook's roommate was asleep just a few feet away on the other bed but your boyfriend clearly didn't care.

his body pressed tight on you under the thin blanket, his weight deliciously heavy.

“gotta stay quiet yeah?”

he whispered hotly against your ear before placing a soft kiss against it.

“kookie…” you breathed.

you bite your bottom lip hard as his hand found your soaked panties, fingers finding your swollen pussy folds and the amount of arousal you were producing for him.

he groans at the feel of it and how your clit throbs right against his thumb.

“you're so wet already, you like this huh? risking it with him right there.”

you nodded, heart pounding.

the fear of getting caught any moment only seemed to heighten the moment and make you even hornier.

it made you feel naughty and shameless but you ached for him so much.

your lips part wantonly when he pushes your panties aside, his middle finger traced the shape of your slit, swiping against your clit in a way that makes your entire back arch.

you buried your face in the pillow to muffle your moan.

“mmph!”

he has teased you so much in the earlier texts and the masturbation has left you so sensitive.

it felt like you could cum any moment even before he touched you properly.

the pleasure of building quick and sharp

you pulled him close, fisting the back of his hair, his tongue traces the seam of your lip which you parted willingly until both your tongues intertwined in a sloppy hot makeout.

the tip of his finger penetrated you along with the sex motions of his tongue.

he swallowed the cute little noises escaping you while he panted.

he growled when with one slippery impatient rock of your hips, you took his long finger all the way inside.

“yesss.”

you let out a cry louder than you intended, from the relief of having some part of him inside you.

“sweet girl you need to be—”

jungkook's rushed voice got cut off for a second, a sudden creak made you both freeze, wide lustful eyes locked onto each other.

you heard the noise of sheets rustling, followed by a sleepy voice.

“….the hell was that?”

© GUKCNT — all rights reserved. | divider by @/chulastar7

[babystarcandyrecs]

✨hair pulling✨

✨jimin✨

🌷exposure (jimin x reader) by @dreamyjoons

🌷feeling myself (jimin x reader) by @hoseokhasmyheartxx

🌷freaky positions (jimin x reader) by @jiminsafairy

✨jungkook✨

🌷mr and mrs (jungkook x reader) by @jenyluv

🌷see you like that (jungkook x reader) by @littlemisskookie

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ back to the smut library ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ back to the m.masterlist ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[pickyour-poison]

GHOST FACE | JEON JUNGKOOK

Pairing : idol bf jungkook x gf reader

Summary: All you wanted was to try a Ghostface trend but forgot that Jeon Jungkook never does anything halfway.

Word count : 3k ( almost ig)

warnings: :This is a consensual roleplay story with themes, chase & hide kink, mask kink and pretend predator/prey dynamics, scary & eerie Jungkook, mean & menacing dirty talk, heavy degradation, rough sex on the floor, choking, spitting, creampie, messy oral (face-fucking), squirting and morally questionable dirty talk during the scene. Reader is extremely into it trust me and nothing is without consent, later bombarded you guys with soft aftercare, fluff and loving Jungkook

A/N : Don't. Just don't come at me asking about my sense of morality because I'm done. I'm counting my days at this point. Inspo 🙀

Enjoy!!!────۶ৎ────────۶ৎ────────۶ৎ────────۶ৎ────

You were sprawled across the bed..facing your husband's feet and hugging one of his legs while mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Yet another video popped up of girls screaming and running around while their men chased them wearing nothing but a Ghostface mask.

To be honest...you'd been kind of intrigued by the trend ever since it started blowing up.

Lowering your phone..you glanced at your boyfriend. He was lying comfortably beside you one hand tucked behind his head and your leg draped across his torso while he scrolled through his own phone. Probably reblogging something or posting another Instagram story that would give army mini heart attacks.

"Gguk," you called...your eyes shining with mischief.  "Mmh?" he hummed without looking up..still scrolling.

You suddenly sat up..making him fumble and nearly drop his phone. "I have an idea."

"You couldn't be any less subtle about it, baby?" he laughed shaking his head..sitting up as well.

"Don't laugh first." You shoved your phone right in front of his face. He leaned back slightly before squinting at the screen..watching the video.

"We should try this trend, baby. Remember those Ghostface masks we bought last to last year for Halloween? I think We still have them."

"The Ghostface thing?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together as he replayed the clip.

You nodded eagerly."Yeah. You know... the mask... chasing and... well... you know."

You awkwardly gestured with your hands getting flustered...trying to explain.

A teasing smirk slowly spread across his face. "So... you're saying you want me to chase you then fuck you? "

You snatched your phone back almost instantly and smacked the back of his head. "Yah! Don't say it like that."

"...But yes."

Your cheeks were already warming.

The thing about Jungkook was that he was just as weird as you. He'd happily entertain almost any ridiculous idea if it sounded exciting enough..especially if it made you smile. That didn't mean he wasn't soft. If anything...it was one of the things you loved most about him. He could go from being an absolute menace to the gentlest person you'd ever known in a heartbeat.

He laughed and pulled you closer by the waist and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.."Yeah...its hot" he murmured with a grin. "I can see why people are into it. Let's do it."

You immediately slipped off the bed..standing there in nothing but one of his oversized T-shirts.

"Okay... when do we start?" you asked..folding your arms across your chest..pretending the idea itself wasn't already making you wet.

Jungkook stood up too..suddenly looking much more serious than before. "Go hide somewhere, baby," he said. "Give me a few minutes." His unexpectedly committed expression made you burst into laughter. "You're taking this way too seriously."

"You asked for the full experience." He raised his eyebrows as if slipping into the character right away.

Still giggling but now a little nervou....you opened the dresser drawer and grabbed the old Ghostface mask and tossed it toward him.

"Call my name when you're done?." You said while walking out of the room and he nodded while catching the mask effortlessly.

The door clicked shut behind you.

_

You disappeared into the bathroom near the kitchen and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your heartbeat was already racing.

You checked the time on your phone, then shut it off. You fixed your hair and splashed cold water on your face and took a deep breath before stepping back into the hallway.

The apartment was quiet. Most lights were off and only the dim red light strips Jungkook had installed the ones he said looked better in his lives cast a low and eerie glow. Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.

You walked forward slowly. “Babe?” No answer.

The apartment felt unsettling quiet..making your throat go dry. As you looked around your phone suddenly rang...the sound making you jump.

"Unknown number"

You answered the call with shaky fingers. Only heavy breathing came through the other side, “Hello?” you said, still No answer, “Hello? Who’s this?” you tried again then his voice came through low and rough. “Shouldn’t have answered the call, dove.” He breathed heavily into the phone.

Your stomach flipped. “B-baby, what—?” You laughed, scared shitless. “What’s with the number??”

“Tsk tsk.”

“Who-who are you?” You played along catching his subtle warning.

“Have patience, darling. Maybe turn around and see me yourself?” He said it calmly and instantly disconnected the call. You spun arounsd but no one was there you're heart was pounding loudly by now abd then you turned back to your original position and there he was...standing near the balcony.

You shrieked. “God!”

You stumbled back a few steps. He was wearing nothing but his jeans...his toned abs on full display...hand tattoos glowing under the red lights and that Ghostface mask… it made you cunt throb because you're boyfriend looked so damn unreal.

“You’re so obedient, my love,” the masked man said...walking slowly toward you like he had all the time in the world. “Following my orders like a good fucking girl.”

“Who-how? Who are you?” you asked...fully committed to the act even though you were very terrified. “You should keep your windows locked, dove. Anyone could come inside.” He tsked, mocking you.

Before you could answer him he said, “Run…”

“Gguk, come on-” he cut you off mid sentence,“Run.” His voice was calm this time..a pause and he continued, “If I catch you… I kill you.” he started walking towards you with larger steps now.

You shrieked and bolted...your bare feet slapped against the wooden floor as you sprinted into the living room...almost slipping while dodging around the couch. Heavy footsteps came after you.

As if he already knew you weren’t getting away..

You didn’t dare look back. You could hear his breathing through the mask..slightly muffled but very real...another slow footstep..then another..yhen suddenly… nothing...his footsteps stopped.

You kept running anyway...ducking behind the kitchen counter. Your chest rose and fell hard. You strained to hear any sound but there was just Silence.

Only the soft sound refrigerator humming and your own frantic heartbeat could be heard. “…Babe?” you whispered...trying not to laugh at how scared you sounded.

No answer came so you peeked around the corner....it was empty.

So you got up and checked the guest room but it was also empty. The bathroom and the balcony was empty too so you called him out.

“Jungkook?”

The apartment suddenly felt much bigger than it actually was because every shadow looked wrong and every doorway felt like someone was standing just out of sight.

You slowly walked back into the hallway, hugging your own arms. “This isn’t funny anymore…”

You took another step. The floor creaked beneath your feet...You froze.

“…Baby?”

Silence....

“Okay… I give up.”

Just as you let out a nervous laugh and turned toward the bedroom......Someone was standing in the doorway...Perfectly still as if waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on you.

You didn’t even know how long he’d been there...but his head slowly tilted to one side and not a word he said but those hollow black eyes locked onto you.

A scream tore out of your throat and stumbled backward on instinct before turning to run again.

The moment you moved…He moved too..and this time his arm snapped around your waist strongly...yanking you back hard against his bare...burning-hot chest.

You shrieked so loudly that you were sure tomorrow someone will definitely make a complaint about it.

The cold mask pressed against the side of your neck and you felt his hot breath through the fabric as he growled low.

"Got you. "

His voice came out as a lowand distorted growl through the Ghostface mask and before you could even breathe...Jungkook spun you around and shoved you down onto the hardwood floor. Your knees hit first..then your palms...the cold wood made you gasp. He was on you instantly...heavy and terrifying. The mask hovered right behind your ear as he pinned your chest down with one hand between your shoulder blades...forcing your ass up.

“Too much?” he rasped, already yanking the oversized t-shirt up over your hips. “Tap my bicep twice and I’ll stop.” You nodded frantically against the floor.

He laughed darkly the sound sending chills down your spine...,“But that’s useless, isn’t it, dove?” He shoved two thick fingers into your soaked pussy without warning...curling them viciously. “I’m going to fuck you too dumb to even remember how to tap.”

You cried out..already drooling on the floor as he finger-fucked you hard and fast...the wet and obscene squelching sounds filling the room. He added a third finger...stretching you open while his thumb rubbed rough circles on your clit.

“Say it,” he growled..pumping faster. “Tell me why your windows were unlocked.”

You sobbed...hips jerking back against his hand..,“B-because… I wanted you to come in…”

“Louder, darling.” he cut you off... “I wanted you to creep in and ruin me!” you cried..tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Good girl.” He pulled his fingers out with a filthy wet sound and slapped your pussy once...making you jolt. Then he freed his thick and heavy cock and slammed into you in one brutal thrust

You screamed...nails scratching against the hardwood as he started pounding you mercilessly on the floor.

Every deep stroke made your tits drag against the wood...your cheek pressed to the cold surface while the Ghostface mask stayed locked in place above you.

“Does your boyfriend know?” he taunted...voice menacing through the mask as he railed you..,“Does he know his sweet little girlfriend is on the floor getting fucked stupid by a stranger’s cock?”

“N-no-ahh!” you sobbed...pleasure ripping through you so hard your vision blurred. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back...forcing you to arch deeper.

“Say it. Tell me what a filthy little dove you are.”

“I’m a filth-!” you wailed, drooling and crying as he destroyed your pussy. “I’m getting fucked stupid on someone else’s dick!”

“That’s right.” His hips snapped harder...the sound of skin slapping skin loud and wet...,“Making such a fucking mess on the floor like a desperate little dove. Look at you dripping everywhere baby.”

He suddenly pulled out...leaving you clenching around nothing.

You whined pathetically until he sat back against the bed frame and dragged you forward by the hair,“Open your mouth.”

The mask loomed over you as he pushed his cock past your lips and straight into your throat. You gagged hard...tears pouring down your face while he fucked your mouth with deep and controlled thrusts.

“Eyes up,” he ordered and you looked up at the terrifying white mask...choking and moaning around his thick length. Spit dripped down your chin onto your chest and the floor.

“Messy fucking girl,” he groaned...voice distorted. “Crying on my cock while your boyfriend is somewhere out there. Does he know you love being used like this?”

You shook your head weakly...sobbing around his cock. He pulled out suddenly...strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening length.

“Beg for it.” jungkook said, “Please… please fuck me,” you cried, voice hoarse and broken. “Please just ruin-me-”

He flipped you onto your back on the cold floor..spread your legs wide and slammed back inside your dripping cunt. The new angle made you scream...back arching as he pounded you mercilessly. His hand wrapped around your throat not squeezing hard...just holding you in place while the mask stared down at your tear-streaked and ruined face.

“Gonna cum all over a stranger’s cock, aren’t you?” he snarled. “Say it.”

“I’m gonna cum-I’m cumming-!” you sobbed...body convulsing violently as your orgasm crashed through you.

You squirted messily all over his cock and the floor...shaking and crying from the intensity.

Jungkook growled deep in his chest and buried himself into you deep...flooding your pussy with thick..hot cum. He stayed deep inside you..grinding slowly...letting you milk every last drop while you twitched and whimpered beneath him

._

You lay trembling and ruined on the cold hardwood floor...thighs shaking..tears still slipping down your flushed cheeks. Your pussy throbbed and leaking a messy mix of both your releases onto the wood beneath you. You could barely think straight..mind fuzzy...body buzzing.

The Ghostface mask hovered above you for a few more seconds… then Jungkook finally reached up and pulled it off.

His face was flushed..hair messy and damp with sweat and eyes soft and full of love the moment they met yours. The terrifying ghost face was gone replacing with your boyfriend now.

“Baby…” he breathed, voice hoarse but incredibly gentle.

He tossed the mask aside and immediately gathered you into his arms...lifting you off the messy floor and onto the bed like you weighed nothing. He pulled you against his chest...wrapping you up completely in his warm and strong embrace. His skin was hot and slightly sticky...heart still racing under your cheek.

“You okay, my love?” he whispered..pressing soft kisses to your forehead...your wet cheeks and uour swollen lips. His fingers stroked slow...soothing circles up and down your spine. “Was it too much baby? Be honest..im sorry if it was.”

You shook your head weakly...still sniffling and trembling in his arms. “It was… so much. Scary… but so good. I loved it.”

He let out a relieved chuckle and held you tighter....one hand gently brushing your messy hair out of your face. “You were so perfect, baby. So fucking good for me.” He kissed the top of your head again and again...rocking you gently. “My strong, brave girl.”

You curled deeper into his chest....feeling safe and small in his arms after everything he’d just done to you. He reached down and gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, then kissed where they had been.

“I made such a mess on the floor,” you mumbled shylyand embarrassed now that the heat had faded.

Jungkook laughed softly...the sound warm and fond. “I’ll clean it later..don't think about it. ” He pulled the blanket over both of you and tucked you closer and his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip. “You were crying so pretty… taking everything I gave you like my perfect little dove.”

You blushed hard and hid your face in his neck. He smiled and kept kissing you...soft andbloving kisses everywhere he could reach.

After a few quiet minutes...he tilted your chin up so you could see his eyes.

“We should do this shit way more often,” he murmured...voice low and sincere. “Maybe next time I’ll chase you with the lights completely off… or tie you up first so you really can’t run.” He smirked...but his eyes stayed soft with a hint of mischief. “Only if you want to baby, of course.”

You shivered at the promise but nodded...feeling warm and loved in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered...pressing one last gentle kiss to your lips. “So much. You did amazing, baby.”

He held you like that for a long time...stroking your hair and rubbing your back...whispering sweet praises until your breathing evened out and lulled you into a warm...safe haze in his arms.

────۶ৎ────────۶ৎ────────۶ৎ────────۶ৎ────

[a-nyx-7]

SALTY KISSES | PARK JIMIN

Out on a honeymoon with your newly wedded husband, wearing a revealing bikini wasn't a good idea.

Pairing : husband! Jimin x wife! Reader

Genre: newlyweds, romance, too much blushing, breast play, smut, honeymoon au.

ONESHOT.

(make sure to read the author note below!)

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection for the thousandth time. Your lips felt completely dry, a telltale sign of the nerves kicking in. The black two-piece bikini you were wearing left very little to the imagination, putting your skin and curves completely on display.

You hadn't actually planned on buying something this revealing, but your sister had practically forced you into it. Something about seducing your husband.

Seducing Jimin? The same man you had only met four months ago when your parents set you up on that first awkward date? The two of you had been married for just two weeks now, and here you were on your honeymoon.

The plan was supposed to be simple. You meant to grab the pouch with the modest one-piece from your suitcase, but in your rush, you grabbed the wrong one. Now, you were far too shy to walk back out there exposed just to look for a change of clothes.

Looking down, you flushed. Your chest was practically spilling out, and the bottoms left your backside entirely on display. Squeezing your eyes shut in a wave of nervousness, you finally called out through the closed door.

"Jimin?"

"Yes?" he answered almost instantly. "Are you coming out yet?" His voice was gentle, standard for him.

Jimin was a total gentleman. He was soft-spoken, yet he had a way of flirting that could make your toes curl. You both were still firmly in the friendship phase, taking slow, careful steps to get closer to each other.

"Yes. It's just... um, can you maybe wait outside on the balcony for a bit? I'll be out soon," you said, your voice hesitating over the words.

"Why?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his tone.

"I'm just feeling a little..."

"Sick?" His voice shifted, laced with sudden concern, and you could hear the rustle of sheets as he stood up from the bed.

"No, no! I'm just... shy," you murmured, your voice growing timid and small. You nervously fiddled with the door handle, your heart racing.

"Shy...?" he repeated after a brief pause. You could almost hear the soft smile in his voice. "It's just me. Are you shy because you're wearing a... bikini?"

You leaned your forehead against the cool wood of the door, nodding anxiously even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"Hey, it's just me, okay? You know I won't touch you if you're not ready," his voice softened, drifting through the wood of the door.

"It's not about that..." you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"Please... I want to see you," he pleaded softly.

Your eyes widened at the vulnerability in his request. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly turned the lock and clicked the door open. Jimin was standing right in front of you. As the door swung wide, his eyes went wide, taking in the view as he realized exactly what you were wearing.

"Fuck," he breathed out, the word slipping past his lips in a low, involuntary whisper.

Any trace of his usual restraint vanished as he shamelessly checked you out. His gaze dropped, completely fixed on the soft swell of your chest spilling over the top of the black fabric, slowly tracing the sharp curve of your waist and hips.

Realizing he was staring, he quickly snapped his eyes back up to yours, though his expression remained dark and intense.

"Sorry... you look beautiful," he murmured, his voice rougher than usual.

You could feel your face burning, a deep flush spreading down to your neck. Nodding timidly, you managed to squeak out, "Thank you. Let's go?"

He nodded, stepping back slightly to gesture for you to walk first. Your knees felt completely weak, nearly giving out beneath you as you stepped past him. Every nerve in your body was on fire; even without looking back, you could feel the absolute heat of his intense stare burning into your back, tracing the line of your waist and the exposed curve of your hips with every step you took.

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the sand, but all you could feel was the intense heat of Jimin’s gaze still tracking your every move. You walked side by side along the shoreline, the cool ocean water occasionally lapping at your ankles, providing a much-needed distraction from the thick tension between you.

For a few minutes, you tried to focus on the scenery, making quiet, shy small talk. But every step you took felt hyper-coordinated. With the minimal support of the bikini, your boobs shifted and bounced subtly with every movement, a fact you were acutely aware of and one Jimin definitely hadn't missed. His eyes kept darting downward, his throat bobbing every time he swallowed.

"We should probably put on some more sunscreen," you murmured, stopping near a quieter stretch of the sand.

"Yeah. Good idea," Jimin replied, his voice a little strained. He reached into the beach bag, but before he could offer to help, you took the bottle from his hand.

Setting the bottle down, you took a step forward and bent over to rub the cream onto your feet and calves. The motion was completely innocent on your part, but the effect was immediate.

As you leaned forward, the skimpy black bikini bottoms stretched tight, completely exposing the smooth, rounded curve of your ass.

A sharp, audible gasp left Jimin’s throat.

Startled by the sound, you quickly glanced back over your shoulder. Jimin was standing entirely frozen, his eyes wide and completely locked onto you. The polite, gentle husband from an hour ago was nowhere to be seen; his gaze was dark, heavy, and undisguisedly fixated on the view you were inadvertently giving him.

"Jimin?" you squeaked, your cheeks instantly burning hot as you realized exactly what he was looking at.

He didn't answer right away. He just stared, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried and failed to regain his usual control.

Jimin blinked, forcing his eyes up to meet yours as he swallowed hard, desperately trying to pull his composure back together. He cleared his throat, a faint, rare blush creeping onto his own neck.

"Sorry," he muttered, giving a small, breathy laugh at his own lack of control. He reached down, gently taking the sunscreen bottle from your hand. "Come on, let's head over there. It’s less crowded there."

He pointed toward a secluded cove further down the shore, where the large rock formations blocked the view from the main resort area.

As you walked beside him, the initial paralyzing shyness began to melt into a softer, nervous excitement. The warmth of the sun and the steady rhythm of the waves helped ease the tension, even if you were still acutely aware of how close his shoulder was to yours.

When you finally waded into the turquoise water, the cool splash was a welcome relief. Jimin dived in first, his dark hair slicked back as he surfaced with a bright, breathtaking smile that instantly made your heart skip.

"The water is perfect," he called out, holding his hands out toward you. "Come on."

You stepped deeper until the small waves lapped at your waist. A sudden, larger wave rolled in, catching you off guard, and you gasped, instinctively reaching out.

Jimin’s hands caught your waist instantly, anchoring you against him. The sensation of his bare skin against yours sent a jolt straight to your chest. For a second, you both froze, completely breathless, staring at each other. Your chest was pressed lightly against his torso, and the sheer closeness made your lips go dry all over again.

Seeing your wide eyes, Jimin gave a soft, reassuring chuckle to break the spell. He playfully splashed a handful of water at your shoulder. "Gotcha."

"Hey!" you laughed, your timidness fading as you splashed him right back.

Within minutes, the lingering awkwardness dissolved into pure, bubbly fun. You ended up playing like kids, splashing and dodging each other, the beach echoing with your shared laughter.

Yet, the underlying awareness never truly left. Every time Jimin caught you to keep you from falling, or every time your legs brushed together under the water, a quiet thrill ran through you.

Eventually, you both settled down, floating lazily near each other where the water met your shoulders.

"You know," Jimin said softly, his eyes fixed on you as he kicked his legs gently to stay afloat, "on our first date, I was actually so nervous I almost spilled my coffee right on my lap."

You let out a genuine laugh, leaning back into the water. "Really? You looked so calm and collected. I was the one sweating through my dress."

"No way," he smiled, moving just a fraction closer so your shoulders touched. "I was terrified. You were so quiet, I thought you hated me."

"I was just intimidated by how handsome you were," you confessed, the admission slipping out before you could stop it.

Jimin’s smile softened into something incredibly warm and tender. He reached out under the water, his fingers gently brushing against your hand before firmly intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Well," he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before locking back onto your eyes, "I'm really glad we're here now.”

Catching the sudden shift in his gaze, your breath hitched. Jimin was no longer looking at the ocean or listening to the gentle crash of the waves; his eyes were completely anchored to your lips. A fierce, involuntary blush burned across your cheeks, making you look down into the water to hide your face.

Before you could pull back, Jimin took a slow step closer. Under the cover of the turquoise water, his large hand slid smoothly around your waist, his fingers pressing into your bare skin. The sudden, warm contact sent a shiver straight up your spine.

"Y/n..." he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he began to lean in.

But before his lips could reach yours, a rogue, cresting wave surged up from behind you. It caught you both completely off guard, knocking you off balance. With a shared gasp, you both tumbled backward into the rolling swell.

The water swallowed you for a split second before you both broke the surface, coughing and instantly bursting into breathless, pure laughter.

The romantic tension shattered into something utterly delightful and chaotic. Because of the force of the wave, you had landed directly on top of him, your legs tangled with his beneath the surface and your front pressed flat against his chest.

As you both scrambled to find your footing on the shifting sand, Jimin's hands instinctively reached up to steady you. In the blurry, wet scramble, his palm accidentally grazed right across the sensitive, exposed curve of your chest.

The touch was brief, but electric.

Your laughter cut off into a soft gasp, and your face turned an even deeper shade of crimson.

Looking down, you caught the exact moment Jimin realized where his hand had landed. His eyes widened, a sudden rush of heat overtaking his features as he quickly shifted his grip to your hips to anchor you.

Seeking any kind of stability, your hands flew up, your fingers tightly gripping his slick, muscular shoulders for support. The water swirled around your waists, holding you close as you hovered directly over him, both of you completely breathless, blushing, and entirely aware of the racing hearts beating against each other.

Jimin’s grip on your hips tightened just a fraction, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles against your bare skin. He didn't move immediately. Instead, he held your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours, silently asking for the permission you both knew he wouldn't take without a sign.

You let out a soft, shaky breath, your fingers tightening slightly on his wet shoulders as you leaned down just a hair closer. It was all the answer he needed.

Jimin tilted his head, closing the remaining distance between you. When his lips finally met yours, the contact was incredibly soft, a gentle, lingering caress that made your eyelids flutter shut. The kiss tasted of the ocean, cool, crisp, and distinctly salty but the heat radiating between you completely canceled out the chill of the water.

Slowly, the gentleness shifted into something deeper. Jimin’s breath hitched against your mouth as he parted his lips, his tongue sliding forward to meet yours in a slow, rhythmic mold.

A quiet whine escaped the back of your throat, completely swallowed by the depth of the kiss.

His hands moved languidly up from your hips, his palms warming your skin as he pulled you even tighter against his chest, anchoring your bodies together beneath the rolling waves.

Every stroke of his lips was deliberate, sweet yet laced with a fierce, underlying hunger that left you completely breathless, utterly lost in the taste of him.

He reached up, his fingers tangling into the wet strands at the back of your head. He tilted his head slightly, gaining deeper access to your mouth, and a quiet moan slipped from your lips.

His palm held your nape securely, his thumb massaging the sensitive skin of your neck while the soothing, cold ocean water lapped against your heated skin.

"Jimin..." you gasped out against his lips, a sudden wave of self-consciousness hitting you.

Your eyes flew open, darting around the open expanse of the beach. Breaking the kiss with a soft sigh, Jimin followed your gaze and looked around.

A few resort guests were scattered further down the shore, some playing in the distant surf, others lounging on the sand. Even though they weren't paying attention to the secluded cove, the reality of being out in the open made your heart race for a completely different reason.

You took a tentative step back, the cool air hitting your wet skin. Your face was a deep, crimson red, and you could still vividly feel the phantom touch of his lips on yours, a dizzying contrast of warm and cold, tasting like sweet cherries and sea salt.

Seeing your flustered reaction, Jimin’s intense expression completely melted away. He broke into his signature, heart-melting smile, the one where his eyes crinkled completely shut into tiny crescents and his cheeks puffed up, round and soft. The dangerous, breathtaking man from a moment ago vanished, leaving behind the sweet, gentle husband who adored making you blush.

"I wanna sit," you murmured, pointing toward the dry sand.

Jimin nodded, his expression softening. "Go on. I'll take a few laps and then come join you."

He took your hand, his grip warm and steady as he helped you navigate the shifting, wavy water back to the shore. You made your way over to the lounge chairs, settling down under the shade of the umbrella and spreading a plush towel over your lap.

As you got settled, Jimin’s eyes darted slowly around your drenched body, taking you in one last time before heading back out.

The cold ocean water had left you looking incredibly alluring. The thin bikini top did little to hide how the chill had affected your skin, making your nipples prominent against the dark fabric, and clear water droplets rolled slowly down your inner thighs.

Jimin gave a curt nod, clearing his throat as he turned around to head back into the surf to burn off some of his lingering energy.

Your eyes stayed glued to your husband as he waded deeper into the ocean. There was no denying he had an incredible body. From your vantage point, you had a clear view of the elegant moon tattoos trailing down his spine, a detail you absolutely loved.

As he dived under and resurfaced, he pushed his drenched, wavy hair back, completely revealing his forehead. The water droplets glistened against his highly defined abs as he cut through the waves. Your lips parted slightly as you watched him swim; you couldn't even attempt to lie to yourself, your husband was breathtakingly hot.

Jimin was fully aware of your eyes tracking his every move. Internally, a smug smirk played on his lips as he cut through the water, though he was doing everything in his power to keep his composure intact.

The sheer, tight cling of his drenched swim shorts made his lack of control completely obvious to anyone looking, but he played it off seamlessly, deliberately running a hand through his wet hair to push it back and show off his forehead just for your benefit.

When he finally finished his laps, he waded out of the surf. He caught the exact moment your eyes widened and you scrambled to pick up a nearby magazine, burying your face in the pages to pretend you hadn't just been ogling him. A knowing smirk spread across his face.

He walked over to your lounge chair, the water dripping off his chest as he hovered over you with a low chuckle. Reaching down, he gently took the magazine from your hands and flipped it right side up.

"You were reading it upside down, princess," he murmured, his voice low and breathy.

Your eyes went completely wide. The sheer embarrassment of the silly mistake, combined with the sudden, effortless way he dropped that nickname in such a sultry tone, made your toes curl inside the sand.

Desperate to hide your burning red cheeks, you cleared your throat and quickly stood up, your eyes wandering anywhere but at his bare chest.

"Want me to dry your hair?" Jimin asked softly. He reached down and took the towel from your lap, his cold, wet fingers intentionally brushing against the warm skin of your inner thighs in the process, sending a fresh jolt of electricity straight through you.

You nodded slowly, unable to find your voice as he stepped closer.

Jimin stood right behind you, his tall frame blocking out the warmth of the sun and casting a shadow over your skin. He gently draped the plush towel over your wet hair, using both hands to rub the fabric in slow, soothing circles.

The rhythmic movement should have been relaxing, but the proximity only sent your pulse into overdrive. Every time he shifted his weight, you could feel the heat radiating from his bare chest against your shoulder blades.

As he worked the towel down the length of your hair, his hands naturally moved lower. His knuckles deliberately brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck, his cold fingers sending goosebumps rippling across your arms. You let out a soft, shaky breath, your hands catching the edge of the lounge chair for support.

"Am I hurting you?" he whispered, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

"No," you squeaked out, your voice barely audible over the sound of the crashing waves. "It... it feels good."

Jimin let out a low, satisfied hum that vibrated straight through your chest. The gentle rubbing transitioned into something much more deliberate. He gathered your damp hair to one side, completely exposing the bare skin of your shoulder and back.

With painstaking slowness, his hands traced the towel down your spine, the softness of your skin contrasted by the smooth, firm pressure of his palms.

With every pass, his thumbs would deliberately slide just an inch too far, grazing the outer curve of your waist and the exposed skin just above the string of your bikini top. You shivered, your stomach fluttering as you instinctively leaned back, just a fraction, into his touch.

Jimin noticed. He stopped moving the towel, leaving his large, warm hands resting firmly on your hips. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the crook of your neck as he inhaled deeply, completely intoxicated by the scent of salt and your skin.

"You're driving me crazy, Y/n," he growled softly against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling your backside flush against the hard planes of his stomach.

The sun was slowly setting, casting a deep, golden glow across the secluded cove. Your eyes closed involuntarily, a soft sigh escaping your lips at the soothing, agonizingly slow touch of his fingers against your spine. As his hand traveled higher, his fingertips brushed against the knot of your bikini top. Your breath completely stuttered when he twisted the string slightly, teasing the edge of the tie without opening it yet.

Jimin glanced over your shoulder, checking the surroundings one last time. A few people were still visible on the far side of the shore, but your spot was mostly hidden from view, tucked safely behind the towering rock formations.

"Y/n..." he murmured against your skin.

Instead of standing behind you, he shifted, sitting down on the edge of the chair right behind you. His lips immediately crashed against your jaw, planting a trail of warm, demanding kisses that made your head tilt back. Unable to resist the pull, you shifted, turning your body around to face him completely on the wide lounge chair.

You let him kiss your jaw, your hands flying up to grip his broad, damp shoulders for support. The sheer proximity made your body heat up all over again, a wave of intense shyness mixing with the electric current running through your veins as you pressed closer into his chest.

You tilted your head back, offering him full, unhindered access to your neck. Jimin didn't hesitate, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin of your throat, sending a fierce tingle straight down your spine.

Driven by pure instinct, you pressed your body even closer to his. As you shifted, his dark eyes darted down to your chest, where the golden glow of the setting sun caught the soft, exposed curve of your boobs.

"Can I touch?" he whispered, his voice rough and laced with desire against your jaw.

You gave a slow, hesitant nod, your throat too tight with nerves to actually voice the words.

"Words, princess," he murmured, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a gentle, demanding tug that made your breath hitch.

"Yes," you whispered, the word finally slipping out.

He let out a low, satisfied hum against your skin. "Beautiful."

His lips reluctantly left yours as he shifted back just an inch, creating space so he could look at you. His gaze slowly traced the exposed curves of your chest, following the path of the water droplets dripping lazily down your cleavage.

Your nipples ache to be held, hardening prominently under his intense scrutiny.

"Jimin..." You let out a soft, breathless moan, suddenly feeling so incredibly exposed under his eyes.

He wasn't even touching you yet, but the sheer hunger in his stare was so intoxicatingly hot it made your entire body melt.

He hooked his hands securely under your knees and lifted you into his arms, making you let out a soft gasp at the sudden shift in gravity. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, holding on tight for support as he adjusted his grip.

Kneeling down with you still cradled against his chest, he gently lowered you onto the rough, dry sand. Your body jerked slightly at the sudden, grainy texture against your bare skin. The sand instantly stuck to the dampness of your back, the contrast of the warm ground and the cool ocean water creating a rush of sensation.

Before you could fully process it, he gently turned you over onto your stomach, his movements deliberate. Reaching for the tie of your bikini top, his fingers pulled the strings, loosening the knot just enough to give him full access. His breath hitched as he saw the golden sand dusting the curve of your back.

With his index finger, he began to slowly draw lazy, winding patterns across your skin, tracing a path down your spine. The tickling, electric sensation from his finger sent a shiver straight through you, making your hips instinctively lift off the sand, silently craving more of his touch.

"J-Jimin..." You squirmed beneath his gaze, the friction of the sand and the heat of his body driving you crazy. He was far too good at teasing you, and the anticipation was becoming unbearable.

"Hmm?" he murmured, a low, rumbling sound in his chest.

"Please."

"Please what, princess?" he asked, a soft, wicked edge to his voice as he intentionally prolonged the moment.

Before you could answer, he gently turned you over onto your back, his hands moving to the loosened strings of your bikini top and sliding the fabric away completely. The cool ocean air hit your bare skin, and your breath completely left you as his eyes shamelessly locked onto your chest.

"Jimin," you whispered shyly, your hands instinctively reaching out to hold onto his broad biceps for anchor.

"You are so beautiful," he breathed, his voice thick with genuine awe.

Feeling incredibly exposed under the fading golden light, your hands began to crawl up to cover yourself, but he gently caught your wrists, pinning them softly to the sand beside your head. "Don't," he murmured, his gaze heavy and dark. "I want to see you. All of you."

"What if someone comes..." Your voice was small, a quiet blend of overwhelming shyness and mounting need.

"No one is here. Look, the rocks completely cover us," he assured you, tilting his head slightly to indicate the massive boulders framing your private alcove.

The beach around you was entirely empty now, silent save for the rhythmic, heavy crash of the waves against the shore.

Reassuring you with a soft, warm smile, he released one of your wrists. His large hand moved slowly, deliberately, until his palm wrapped completely around your left boob. You gulped, your heart hammering against your ribs as you felt just how perfectly his hand fit around you.

"J-Jimin..."

"They are so... soft. So perfect," he muttered, his voice dropping to a rough whisper that made your legs tremble in the sand. Hearing him speak so openly and uninhibitedly sent a whole new rush of heat through your veins.

He rolled the soft weight in his hand, slowly squeezing and massaging the sensitive skin. Your free hand flew up to grip his shoulder tightly as his grip tightened, the sudden, intense pressure sending a wave of sharp pleasure straight to your core. Your head fell back into the sand, your eyes rolling shut as the sheer sensation took over.

"It... it feels so good..." you managed to gasp out, the words broken.

Spurred on by your reaction, Jimin shifted his attention to your right boob, his hand cupping and massaging the heavy boobs. His eyes never once left your face. He watched the exact moment your mouth parted, catching every breathy gasp and the way your brow furrowed when the sensation became too intense.

Knowing the friction of his damp palm might be pushing you just past the edge of comfort, he adjusted instantly. The moment he saw the slight tension in your face, he slowed his movements down, shifting from the deep massage to slow, heavy, rhythmically torturous squeezes that left you utterly helpless beneath him.

You whined in response, secretly loving how he was taking control, playing with you as if you belonged completely to him. Your eyes closed tightly as you embraced the sheer warmth and weight of his touch. Beneath the sand, you pressed your thighs tightly together, acutely aware of how the fabric of your bikini bottoms was already growing slick and damp with your arousal.

"Hmm?" He stared down at your squirming body, his smile turning soft yet incredibly wicked. "Loving it? They’ve been teasing me since this morning, princess. Just dying for my attention. It’s about time I give it to them, right?"

You could only whine back in response, unable to form actual words.

"Whining like a kid," he teased, clicking his tongue softly. But the playful tone vanished instantly when his long fingers suddenly flicked right over your perky, sensitive nipple.

A sharp gasp escaped your mouth, your hips instinctively lifting off the sand in a desperate arch.

"So responsive," he murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, satisfied register.

Before you could catch your breath, he flicked your nipple again, a little harder this time. Your eyes flew wide open as a sharp, electric jolt shot straight through your upper body, but the faint sting was immediately swallowed by an intense, rolling wave of pleasure. He repeated the motion a few more times, deliberately building the agonizing rhythm until your chest was flushed pink.

"Jimin!" you gasped out, your fingers digging frantically into his shoulders as he suddenly gathered both your boobs back together, using his thumbs to firmly pinch your tight nipples. The incredible rush of sensation shot like lightning straight down to your core, making you ache between your thighs.

He smirked, watching the exact moment the pleasure wrecked you, his own eyes twinkling with an undeniable, heavy need. "So fucking responsive, baby. I love it."

"Jimin... please..." you whined, practically begging now. You wanted the heat of his mouth, wanting him to flick his tongue over your aching nipples or just cover your skin in kisses—anything to break the torturous anticipation. You just needed more.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on the small bowl of fresh plums you had brought out earlier to snack on. Reaching over, he picked up one of the dark, ripe fruits, making your brows furrow in pure confusion.

"Jimin?" you murmured softly.

His eyes remained intensely fixed on yours as he brought the plum to his mouth and took a slow, deliberate bite. Your lips parted, your mouth going completely dry as the rich, glossy juice of the fruit burst forth, coating his lips.

Drawn in by the sight, you slowly sat up, leaning closer until you could taste the sweetness directly from his mouth. You lapped eagerly over his full bottom lip, your core dripping with heat as the sweet flavor flooded your senses.

Jimin let out a low, pleased smile. He took another bite of the plum and simply waited. Like a needy puppy, you leaned right back in, lapping over his bottom lip again, tasting the faint, sharp sourness of the fruit skin right off his lips.

Suddenly, he brought the half-eaten fruit lower, positioning it right above your chest. With a slow press of his fingers, he squeezed the plum directly over your cleavage. His eyes grew incredibly dark, entirely consumed by desire as he watched the dark, glossy juices trickle slowly down the center of your chest.

You froze in absolute anticipation, your breath catching in your throat as you waited to see what his next move would be.

He shamelessly watched the path of the sticky droplets as they rolled down the warm skin of your boobs. Slowly leaning his heavy frame down, he darted his warm, rough tongue over your cleavage, catching the juice before it could run any further.

You let out a small, trembling gasp as the sheer hotness of his body pressed entirely against you, his wet tongue licking firmly down your cleavage line. Driven by the intense sensation, your hands flew up to the back of his neck, your fingers slowly massaging the heated skin to pull him even closer against you.

He hummed in pleasure as the perfect balance of the sour and sweet fruit hit his tongue. Breaking the contact for a brief second, he smiled sheepishly and reached back into the bowl for another ripe plum, gently pressing it against your lips to make you take a bite.

Before you could even finish tasting the burst of juice, he leaned down to trap your lips once more, eagerly sucking the sweetness from your tongue. Your mouth parted wide under his command as he shoved his tongue deep into your mouth, tasting you with a fierce hunger, as if you were a rare, sweet fruit he had never encountered before.

Slowly, his kisses turned heavier. He dragged his wet tongue down from your lips, tracing your sharp jawline before licking a path down the heated skin of your neck, biting the sensitive skin gently. His lips trailed back down to your cleavage, leaving a path of firm, wet strokes punctuated by sharp, teasing bites here and there. The combination of the cool ocean breeze and the searing heat of his mouth made you shiver, your voice cracking as you moaned his name like a fever.

He hummed against your skin in complete satisfaction. Looking up, his dark eyes locked straight onto yours as he darted his tongue out, pressing it right against your aching, tight nipple. Your eyes immediately rolled back into your head, your hips buckling upward off the sand in a desperate arch.

He twirled his tongue directly over the peak, slowly circling the perimeter with his wetness before flicking it over and over in a relentless, agonizing rhythm. You could feel your stomach fluttering wildly, a deep, heavy throb settling right into your clit.

With agonizing slowness, he shifted his attention, giving the exact same kittenish, torturous licks to your other nipple.

Your eyes flew shut as the sharp, sudden sting of his teeth sunk firmly into the peak. "Ahh! Jimin!" you cried out, instinctively burying your burning face into the crook of his broad shoulder to muffle the shameless noises escaping you.

He didn't stop, nibbling at the tight bud with his teeth before slowly sucking it back into his mouth to soothe the sharp ache. "J-Jimin... mhmm—"

A loud, breathless gasp broke past your lips as he suddenly used his fingers to flick and pinch your free nipple while his mouth remained entirely wrapped around the other, sucking and kissing it fiercely. Giving both of your boobs the exact same maddening attention, he licked and sucked, pinched and flicked, leaving you utterly helpless.

He squeezed the soft flesh together to feel the plush weight, letting them bounce beneath his hands before continuing his relentless assault. Down below, you were literally dripping. The fabric of your bikini bottoms was completely soaked through with your arousal, leaking heavily from the intense breast play alone.

"Mhmm..." Every desperate noise you made caused your cheeks to flare with a deeper, crimson redness. Jimin was unapologetically harsh against your nipples now, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, he pulled his mouth back, pressing the soft mounds together to admire his handiwork. Your cleavage line glistened beautifully under the final rays of the sun, covered in his saliva and light bite marks. Smirking in absolute satisfaction, he rolled the soft weight in his palms a few more times, watching your eyes close tightly in a silent plea for more as sinful, broken sounds escaped your parted lips.

"My... ah-ahhh, j-jimin!" You were incredibly red, your skin burning with a fierce blush. You could feel the wetness leaking straight out of you like a dam breaking.

He leaned back down close to your chest, pressing his warm, open mouth against your skin to lick over the marks again and again. He paused, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "I can smell your arousal, baby."

You let out a broken moan at his words, completely undone by how easily he read your body. He knew exactly what he was doing—he knew the intense stimulation had just made you cum right there on the sand, leaving your entire body trembling with a desperate, mounting need for more.

Letting out a hum of utter pleasure, he finally slowed his pace, pressing the side of his face flat against your chest and closing his eyes.

Jimin shifted to lay directly next to you on the sand, his face still pressed securely against the side of your boob while his lips softly sucked around your nipple like a contented, possessive boy. Your eyes closed in pure, exhausted pleasure, your fingers lazily tangling into his wet, dark hair while your thighs remained tightly pressed together, rubbing against each other to chase the lingering, pulsing waves of your release.

The two of you lay tangled in each other's arms on the quiet shore with soft gasps escaping your mouth whenever he sucked way too hard or bit. It felt good and surreal.

[ Main Masterlist ]

A/n : I am supposed to be writing 'Bad reputation' series rn but here I am writing oneshots ^^

I have few more steamy one shots planned! Should I make a list out of it? Or post randomly like this? YOU GUYS BETTER BE READY FOR ALL THE ONESHOTS!!

Also, should I make a permanent taglist?

I wanna know your opinions! Make sure to interact!! I would love to know what my readers want!

[97dollz]

( 𝓑𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ) 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ˖Ი𐑼⋆ sfw +++ suggestive. you try to trick your boyfriend into restarting his entire push-up routine for a few extra kisses, but he decides to ditch the workout entirely to pin you to the floor and claim his reward.

it started because your boyfriend was complaining about needing to get a quick workout in before the shower. and you, being the incredibly helpful girlfriend you are, casually suggested you could provide some bonus motivation.

now, you were lying flat on your back on his plush rug, and JUNGKOOK was positioned directly over you in a perfect plank. but the real challenge wasn't the workout; it was the rule you’d established. every single rep required him to drop all the way down and steal a kiss from your lips before pushing himself back up.

"twenty," you murmured, his lips pressing firmly against yours before he pushed back up.

"twenty-one," another sweet, but quick kiss landed on your mouth.

jungkook was a beast by the time you reached ninety. it was a very hard achievement, while holding himself back from completely ravaging you was taking a toll. his breathing was hot against your cheeks. his veins were popping beautifully along his forearms, and you could see the defined stretch of his chest muscles under his tight tee every time he lowered himself down. you had been leisurely gazing up and down at him the entire time, thoroughly enjoying the view.

"ninety-eight," your voice a soft hum as his lips pressed firmly against yours, before he pushed up again. his biceps were trembling slightly, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"ninety-nine," his mouth lingering a little longer this time, pulling back and holding himself in a plank as he waited for the final count. instead, you sighed, your bottom lip jutting out into a fake pout. you looked up at him through your lashes, tilting your head innocently. "hmm... seems like we're one short of a hundred."

jungkook raised a pierced brow in confusion, his chest rising and falling heavily. gazing down at you, and he did not like that look. it meant trouble.

"what do you mean one short?" he panted, completely wrecked from the exertion. "i just did ninety-nine. the next one is a hundred."

you hummed, tracing a finger up the ink on his forearm in a very teasing manner, "you know the rules, baby. if it's not a full set, you have to start all over."

jungkook chuckled, his head dropping for a second before he looked back at you. the audacity of his pretty girlfriend doing this to him. he was exhausted, and you were sitting there playing mind games.

"oh, really?" he whispered, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

suddenly, his arms gave out on purpose. he didn't drop hard, but he let his entire heavy and warm body collapse directly on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. he groaned loudly, pinning you to the rug with his full weight, his nose nuzzling into your skin.

"kook! you're heavy, get off!" you giggled, tossing your head back as his fluffy hair tickled your chin.

"never," his hands coming down to grip your waist tightly to prevent you from squirming so much. "you want a restart, baby? fine. but we're doing it my way."

propping himself up on his elbows to look down at you, trapping you beneath him, because you are not running away until his motivation to do better goes away, or if he decides he is done playing games.

"rep number one," and before you could even count yourself, his lips crashed into yours, completely abandoning the workout for something much, much better.

© 97DOLLZ do not copy, repost or modify my work.

happy birthday @kookied, ily <3

taglist ( dm or comment to be added ) ⋆ @strhwa @way2jellyous @tinyfixon @thatonelocalbookworm @kookied @chwrrybby

[leviismybby]

"You like pissing me off don't you?" Levi's voice rings, he was mad and all because of you. How many times did he tell you to stay professional during briefings? Probably a thousand and then some more times, did you listen? Of course not. Just like during today's meeting, your hand was teasing him under the table, at one point even squeezing his crotch. Your touches weren't the problem but his self control was. The self control he lost as soon as you two were alone, so here you are, knees pushed up to your chest, hands tied above your head with his cravat, Levi's cock hitting your spot repeatedly. You've cum twice now but only when he let you. "Look at you...all fucked out. What's with the whining huh?" He grabs your neck, pulling out of you completely before slamming back into you, your heat making his head tilt slightly. "Fuck...so fucking wet." You moan something along his name, you can't make your words out as your eyes roll back and his cock keeps pounding your pussy. The noise in the room is messy and wet, your moans echoing combining with his grunts, he is right, it is exactly what you wanted.

Levi grits his teeth when your walls squeeze around him, he was close, so close to filling you up how you deserved. He squeezes your neck before kissing you passionately, swallowing all of those sounds he loved to hear from your lips. His other hand lets go of the back of your knee to play with your breast, your legs wrap around him tightly. He pulls back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips. "Fucking shit....I am gonna fill you so good...fuck.." He mumbles, his forehead pressing against yours, you want to touch him so bad but you can't, not that you mind, he was fucking you just like you loved it, raw, rough and messy. After a few more rough thrusts of his hips, Levi stops moving and takes your hips, coming inside of you, really letting you feel every last drop of his seed, watching as you arch under him. He gently massages the skin of your hips after, kissing the side of your marked neck. "No more teasing me during meetings, am I understood?" Levi's voice is raspy, he means it. You nod but if this is the result you'll get for playing with him during meetings, you might just do it again.

[luvismenu]

【　𝗪𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗢𝗢 𝗗𝗔𝗠𝗡 𝗡𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗬 】　

𝗷𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 :: 𝗼𝗻𝗲-𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁 :: 𝗺𝗱𝗻𝗶 ! 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

Your boyfriend is extremely needy tonight. And you’re busy with a long gaming session, focused and locked in for what feels like forever… until Jungkook’s patience finally snaps.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: needy boyfriend!jungkook x gamer-gf!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT. pwp tbh, heavy tit worship (he’s obsessed), motorboating your tits, jk on his knees for you, sloppy toppy fr (oral sex), tongue fucking, pussy whipped jk, spitting, unprotected sex/creampie, soft couple banter, established relationship.

𝗹𝘂𝘃𝗶’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: this is lowk just me practicing how to write some more.. nasty ? smut , just a quick lil something lmao 🗣️ // also, shoutout to my pookie @cupidsbling for inspiring me to write this! mwa ♡

𝘁𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.8k

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You were deep in a Marvel Rivals match with your headset on, fingers flying across the keyboard. The glow of your monitor lit up your face in the dimly lit room, the only bright light present was coming from the RGB lights on your setup. You were wearing one of your boyfriend’s oversized black hoodies and nothing underneath — your usual gaming uniform when you didn’t feel like putting on real clothes.

Your boyfriend: Jungkook on the other hand — had been quiet for the last twenty minutes, sprawled on your bed behind you, supposedly watching you play. But you could feel his eyes on you the entire time.

A soft sigh escaped him.

“Baby…” he mumbled.

“Not now, Kook. I’m in the middle of a match,” you said without looking back, focused on the screen.

Another sigh.

Then you hear the sound of him getting up.

You felt him before you saw him — his warm hands resting on your shoulders from behind as he leaned onto the back of your gaming chair. His chin settled on your shoulder, breath tickling your neck.

“You’ve been playing for hours,” he whispered, his voice low and needy. “I miss you.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. “I’m almost done with this game, babe.”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he moved and dropped to his knees in front of your gaming chair, wheeling you back slightly so he could fit between your spread legs under the desk.

His hands slid under the hem of your hoodie, exposing your bare pussy, his palms settling warm against your stomach.

“Jungkook…”

“Please,” he murmured, leaning in to press soft kisses along your stomach as he spoke against your skin, voice soft and pouty. “Give me your attention… just a little. I’ve been so good and patient.”

You exhaled shakily as his hands moved higher, sliding up to cup your bare breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and they hardened instantly under his touch.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, sounding completely in awe.

Even though the hoodie stayed on, the way he pushed the fabric up just enough to expose your chest to his hands and mouth made everything feel filthy and intimate. His large hands kneaded your tits slowly, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh like they were the only thing keeping him alive right now. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, pinching lightly, then soothing with gentle circles until you were squirming in the chair.

Your pussy was already exposed and dripping, the cool air of the room brushing against your wet folds as he knelt between your spread legs.

You tried to keep your eyes on the screen, fingers still hovering over the keyboard, but your focus was slipping fast. The match felt distant now, nothing compared to the heat of his hands on you.

Jungkook leaned in closer, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, slow and teasing. His lips were warm and soft, leaving faint wet marks on your skin as he moved higher, dangerously close to where you were already aching for him. You shifted your hips forward slightly, silently hoping he’d finally put his mouth on you, but he didn’t. He just kept kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, like he wanted to drive you crazy on purpose.

“Jungkook…” you breathed, voice shaky.

He hummed against your thigh but stayed right there, teasing, before finally moving upward again. He pushed the bottom of your hoodie higher with both hands, then ducked his head completely underneath the fabric.

The world went darker, warmer, and suddenly all you could feel was him.

His face was buried in your chest now, hoodie tented over his head as he worshipped your tits with single-minded devotion. He pressed his face between them, inhaling deeply like your scent was his favorite drug, then he started kissing and licking everywhere he could reach.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, voice muffled under the hoodie. “I love your tits so much… they’re so soft, and so warm.”

He took one breast into one of his hands, pushing it up so he could wrap his lips around your nipple. He sucked slowly at first, savoring it, tongue swirling around the stiff peak before sucking harder. The wet heat of his mouth made your back arch, pushing more of your chest into his face.

He moaned loudly against you, the sound vibrating through your whole body. While he sucked on one nipple like he was trying to pull pleasure straight from it, his other hand kneaded your free breast, squeezing and bouncing it gently in his palm. His thumb kept flicking over the nipple, keeping it hard and aching.

You lost all focus on the game. The keyboard clicks slowed to nothing. Your character probably died minutes ago and you didn’t care. All that existed was Jungkook’s mouth and hands devouring your tits under the hoodie.

He switched sides, giving the other nipple the same filthy treatment — long, slow sucks that made obscene slurping sounds, followed by quick flicks of his tongue. He pushed both breasts together, burying his face between them again, licking and kissing the soft valley while his hands continued squeezing and playing with them.

“Love how they feel in my hands.. in my mouth,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and desperate. “So full… so pretty when they bounce like this.”

He motorboated them gently, the soft jiggle making him groan in pure bliss. Then he was sucking marks into the undersides, leaving little bruises that only he would see later. His tongue traced every curve, licking broad stripes across your skin before returning to your nipples to suck them deep into his mouth again.

The hoodie trapped his heat and breath against you, making everything hotter, wetter, more intense. Spit coated your tits, dripping down your stomach as he got sloppier, completely lost in his obsession.

He kept talking between kisses and sucks, voice wrecked.

“Could stay here forever… just sucking on these pretty tits. They’re so sensitive for me… look how hard your nipples get when I play with them.”

He pinched both nipples at the same time, rolling them between his fingers while his tongue flicked rapidly over one. You moaned loudly, thighs trembling around him, one hand gripping the edge of the desk while the other pushed his head deeper under the hoodie.

He loved it. He moaned even louder, sucking harder, kneading your breasts with both hands like he couldn’t get enough of their weight and softness.

You finally reached up with a trembling hand and closed the game entirely, not even bothering to save or exit properly. The screen went dark, but you barely noticed.

“Fuck, Kook… that feels so good,” you moaned softly, your voice shaky with pleasure. “Please don’t stop...”

Jungkook didn’t stop. If anything, knowing he finally had your full attention made him more eager. He kept his head buried under your hoodie, face pressed against your chest as he continued his relentless worship — sucking, licking, squeezing, kissing every inch of your tits like they were the center of his universe.

“God, yes… just like that,” you whispered, fingers tightening in his hair. “You’re so good, babe.”

Jungkook stayed completely buried beneath your hoodie, his face pressed eagerly into the soft warmth of your tits. The thick material trapped his hot breath and the wet sounds of his mouth, turning the space into something intimate and filthy. He moaned loudly as he sucked one nipple deep into his mouth again, the vibration shooting straight down to your core. His hands never stopped moving — kneading, squeezing, pushing your breasts together so he could lavish attention on both at once.

He was obsessed. Completely, shamelessly obsessed.

You were breathing hard, hips shifting restlessly in the chair. The ache between your legs was growing unbearable, but Jungkook took his time, drawing it out. He licked broad, slow stripes across your breasts, then returned to sucking your nipples with filthy, wet sounds that echoed under the hoodie.

Minutes blurred together as he worshipped you.

“So fucking pretty,” he whispered, almost reverently. “My favorite thing in the world.”

Jungkook finally pulled his head out from under the hoodie, his hair a complete mess, cheeks flushed dark, and lips shiny and swollen from how long he’d been worshipping your tits. He looked up at you with those big, soft doe eyes, still dazed and hungry. You couldn’t help but smile at how gone he was for you.

You tugged at the hoodie gently. “Off,” you murmured.

He sat back on his heels between your legs and helped you pull the oversized black fabric over your head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor. Now fully naked in the gaming chair, you reached for him, pulling him into a deep, messy kiss.

He tasted like you — warm, slightly sweet from all the time he’d spent with his mouth on your body.

When you pulled back, he was grinning.

“Now do I have your attention, baby?” he asked, his voice teasing but eyes still dark with want.

You laughed softly, cupping his face with both hands. “Yes, you have my full attention, you needy idiot.”

He grinned wider, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. Still on his knees between your spread legs, Jungkook didn’t move from his position under the desk. His hands now stayed on your thighs, thumbs stroking the soft skin as he looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes.

Without a word, he leaned in closer, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs again. But this time he didn’t tease for long. His hands moved up, gently spreading your pussy lips with his thumbs, exposing your wet, swollen folds completely to the cool air of the room.

You whimpered at the feeling, already so sensitive from all the earlier stimulation. Jungkook’s eyes were locked on your pussy, mesmerized.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “So fucking wet for me already,”

Jungkook leaned in slowly, his warm breath fanning over your exposed pussy. He stuck his tongue out, flat and wide, and pressed it against your slick folds. The first long, slow lick from your entrance all the way up to your clit made you shudder hard, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

He moaned deeply the moment he tasted you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. “Fuck…” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut like he was in heaven. He licked again, even slower this time, dragging his tongue through your wetness with his mouth wide open, devouring every drop.

His tongue was hot and soft, sliding through your folds like he was trying to taste every inch of you. He licked broad, messy strokes — from your dripping hole up to your swollen clit, then back down again. He did it over and over, savoring you, moaning loudly into your pussy like he couldn’t get enough.

You were shaking, one hand gripping the arm of the chair, the other tangled in his hair as he ate you out with pure hunger. His tongue working messily, licking and lapping at your folds like a man starved. He spread you wider with his thumbs, holding your pussy lips open so he could bury his tongue deeper, thrusting it inside you in slow, deep strokes.

The wet, filthy sounds filled the room — loud slurping, his constant moaning, the slick glide of his tongue against your soaked cunt. He was completely lost in it, eyes half-closed, cheeks flushed as he devoured you.

Then he sucked gently on your folds, then moved up to circle your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. His tongue flicked rapidly against the sensitive bud while two fingers rubbed your pussy in slow motion.

You were a mess, moaning and whimpering, hips grinding against his face. He just kept going, tongue devouring everything — licking, sucking, tongue-fucking you with slow thrusts.

He was so pussy whipped, completely addicted to the taste of you, moaning and groaning like eating your pussy is the best thing in the world.

He pulls back slightly, lips shiny and swollen, a thin string of your arousal connecting his mouth to your pussy. His eyes are dark and hazy as he looks at your dripping cunt.

With his index and middle finger, he spreads your pussy lips wide again, holding you completely open. He leans in and spits directly onto your swollen clit, the warm saliva landing right on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You gasp sharply at the feeling.

Jungkook groans at the sight, then uses two fingers to rub his spit into your clit in slow, firm circles. He rubs it really good — pressing down just enough, moving in tight, deliberate circles that make your thighs tremble.

“look at that pussy,” he murmurs, voice thick. “So messy and pretty.”

He keeps rubbing, spreading his spit and your slick all over your clit, occasionally dipping his fingers down to gather more wetness before returning to that perfect rhythm on your swollen bud.

“Mmph— kook—”

You are whimpering, hips twitching uncontrollably as he plays with you, completely focused on making your pussy even wetter for him.

Your breathing gets heavier, thighs starting to shake more and more. The pressure builds fast, that familiar heat coiling tight in your belly as you get closer and closer.

“Kook… I’m getting close,” you moan, voice shaky.

But Jungkook suddenly slows down, pulling his fingers away and pressing soft, teasing kisses on your inner thighs instead. He looks up at you with a small, wicked smile, eyes gleaming.

“Not yet,” he whispers.

You whine in frustration, hips chasing his fingers, but he just chuckles softly and leans in again, licking one slow, torturous stripe up your slit.

And without another word, he scooped you up from the chair like you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. You clung to him as he carried you the short distance to the bed, dropping you gently onto the mattress before crawling over you.

He quickly took off his clothes, his body settled perfectly between your spread legs, cock hard and heavy against your inner thigh. You ran your hands down his back, pulling him closer as he leaned down to kiss you again.

“You always do this,” you complained half heartedly between kisses, even as you tilted your hips up to grind against him. “I’m trying to climb ranks and you just attack my tits until I can’t even remember what game I’m playing.”

Jungkook chuckled against your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin as he lined himself up at your entrance. “Can you blame me?” he murmured, voice low and affectionate. “You look so fucking hot when you’re focused, especially when you're wearing only my clothes. It’s impossible to resist.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, both of you moaning at the stretch. When he bottomed out, he stayed there for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

“Besides,” he continued, starting to move with slow, deep thrusts, “you always end up liking it. You get so wet for me every time I distract you.”

You gasped, legs wrapping tighter around his waist as he fucked you steadily. “That’s not the point,” you breathed, nails digging lightly into his back. “One day I need to actually finish a full match without you turning me into a mess.”

He grinned down at you, hips snapping a little harder. “Mmm, but then I wouldn’t get to fuck you like this right in the middle of your gaming session.” He leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your moans. “And we both know you secretly love when I can’t keep my hands off you.”

You laughed breathlessly, pulling him closer. “You’re the worst.”

He grins again, thrusting deeper, grinding against that perfect spot inside you with every roll of his hips. The conversation faded into soft moans and whispered praises as the pleasure built. He fucked you with that perfect mix of deep and steady, making sure you felt every inch, every drag against your walls.

“Love you,” he whispered against your lips, voice tender even as his pace picked up. “Love how you let me distract you. Love how wet and tight you get for me every single time.”

“Love you too,” you moaned, meeting his thrusts. “Even when you’re being a needy, horny, distraction.”

He chuckled, burying his face in your neck as he fucked you harder, the bed creaking under you. His hand slid between your bodies to rub your clit in circles, pushing you closer to the edge.

You came first, clenching around his cock with a broken cry, thighs shaking around his waist. Jungkook followed right after, groaning your name as he spilled deep inside you, hips stuttering through his release.

After, he collapsed on top of you, both of you sweaty and breathing hard. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing lazy kisses there while you ran your fingers through his damp hair.

“See?” he mumbled sleepily, voice satisfied. “Much better than grinding out that match.”

You laughed, hugging him tighter. “Shut up.”

════════════════════════════════════

[merakoo]

──── 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸 ⧽ TWENTY-FIVE

𓄲  Jungkook got off the phone, sat back in his seat and finished his cigarette. Then he had another one. He felt oddly at peace given what he'd just found out. In fact, he thinks this might be his biggest moment of clarity yet. 

전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw dilf!jungkook single dad jungkook nanny!reader 1980s au slowburn fluff angst (eventual) explicit content age gap (jungkook is 30, reader is 20) oc!cassian/oc!rayne (jk's children) warnings for chapter 25: implied sex smoking pregnancy giving birth (I may be over-tagging right now) death & grief substance abuse hints at violence very brief noncon kissing depression this one touches slightly on starvation/not eating due to grief

⧽ word count ⋮ 20.6k average reading time ⋮ 1 hour and 30 minutes

── [ ✉️ ] Hey. Hello. Right so, I severely underestimated just how long this chapter was going to be, hence my absence. Also, life has been taking its toll on me. I've lost my ID and credit card, gotten it back, made horrible phone calls to people that drain me. I'm still trying to figure a lot of the situation out and it's just exhausting. On top of that, this is such a heavy chapter. So much happens in this one, sometimes it didn't even feel like I was writing HW (you'll understand soon). You'll also notice that I go into detail about certain things more than others, this is a strategic move on my part. If I went in depth about every single thing that happens here, this would be 50k. I'll be explaining this more in the note at the end of the chapter. Anyway, this has by far been my favorite chapter to write, but also the hardest. So fucking much happens, you ladies truly are not ready. I hope you'll enjoy this, I've proofread to the best of my abilities but please have grace if you find grammatical errors/repetition/spelling mistakes etc.. I am only human I fear. Feedback in the comments/reblogs and asks are much appreciated <3

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chapter 25 — "Jeon Jungkook"

June 23rd, 1977

The floor thumps in rhythm with the heavy bass blasting from the stereo, cranked up to the highest volume setting. Even the mattress seemed to be moving along to the song, sending vibrations through his body as he sprawls out across the bed. He stares up at the ceiling idly, watching the cloud of smoke as it curls around itself, some of it catching in the afternoon sun. 

Jungkook liked to start his days like this — seeing as he woke up around noon — with blaring noise to cancel out reality for a moment. He can barely hear his own thoughts even if he tried to focus on them, much less the fervent pounding of his mother's fist to the door — pure bliss. 

Posters are slapped to his walls, the house's original yellow peeking out where his poor tapestry didn't cover. Majority of them are bands, AC/DC, Judas Priest, mostly Black Sabbath though. There are a few cut-outs from porn magazines, women with their tits pressed together, arched to his liking. Jungkook would jerk off to them whenever he was bored or simply horny — which was his default state for the most part. 

His sanctuary is brief today, the banging on his bedroom door managing to overpower even the shrill of the singer's raspy voice. He hadn't heard her stomp up the stairs, but he imagined his mother to be muttering her displeasure all the way up the thirteen steps — a number that irked him. 

"Turn it down!" comes her aggravated yell. Any other mortal might've missed it due to the sheer velocity of his music preferences. But Jungkook was well versed in listening for his parents' every breath in order to avoid them whenever he snuck out. 

"Jungkook!" She's got her knickers in a twist today it seems, usually she would give up after the initial shout. "Unlock your door this instant!" The command is followed by the rattling of the handle as his mother yanks on it roughly. 

To that he simply rolls his eyes, reaching one hand up to rub at his temple where a headache had began to build. He sinks a little further into the mattress, hoping that the next track would deafen whatever scolding she was about to deliver. For a moment he's almost inclined to believe it did. She had gone silent in the hallway, perhaps she'd given up and returned downstairs. That would have been the best of worlds. 

"Are you smoking in there?!" 

But of course not. His gaze drifts to the cigarette caged within his index and middle finger, and he rolls it between them leisurely. "No!" he calls back. 

The smell had probably seeped under the crack of his door which she pounded on, pungent enough for her to catch — not that he gave a shit. "Get out here right now!" his mother remains persistent, "Your father needs your help in the kitchen!" 

Jungkook groans, his head tipping back onto the pillow with a thud, "I'm busy!" 

He could feel her anger, radiating off of her in hot waves as she stands just beyond his door. Had he not been smart enough to lock it, she would have probably roughed him up by now. The thought makes the corner of his lip twitch as he brings the cigarette between them for another drag. 

"Don't make me ground you a second time this month!" Her threat doesn't make him flinch, they never did, but it does make him frown. 

"You can't ground me, I'm nineteen." 

"Nineteen or not—" her voice rises loud enough to overpower the opening instrumental of Paranoid, "You still live under my roof and you do as I say!" 

Jungkook snorts, his head lifting off the cushion it had been resting on. "Suck my fat cock!" he hollers back before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. 

The pounding to his door starts sounding more and more like a madman beating a drum. "Don't you dare use such language with me!" oh she was livid, "Get out here right now before I have your father dismantle this door himself!" 

She wouldn't actually have him do that, Jungkook knows it just as well as she does. With the cigarette shoved between his lips, he pulls on his thick leather boots, insistent on wearing them despite the heat. Then he heads over to the window, undoing the latch and shoving it open as he climbs out. 

It's quite the trek but Jungkook has made this journey enough times to be at ease as he hangs off the ledge of the windowsill, knuckles whitening as he holds on. To his left is a downspout, close enough for him to hook one leg around it. There's a brief second where he's at risk of falling as he lets go, always is, but he catches himself on the pipe and slides down without much trouble. 

The grass bends under his weight and he takes a couple of steps back. With one final glance toward the house and a satisfied drag from his cigarette, he makes for the street — intent on finding entertainment elsewhere whilst his mother continues to yell at the 8-track playing in his bedroom. 

Jungkook enters the filled town square with little plan. The sun sits high in the sky, making the outdoor cafes attractive to the general public. He couldn't care less for them. The thought of bumping elbows with the person on the table next to his own makes him scrunch his nose in disgust. Instead he lets his attention flicker over to the fountain that sits in the center of the plaza. 

An old statute of a woman stands carved in the middle, water sprouting from her open palms before falling into the basin. It's not terribly crowded and he heads over to claim a spot on the stone ledge. Its cool enough to combat the summer heat, the artificial rain skimming along his back comfortably. 

He surveys the area briefly, noting the a group of kids hovering by a display window, two men playing chess on a nearby bench and a handful of mother's chatting loudly as they pushed their strollers back and forth. Jungkook found studying people to be far more pleasant than actually engaging in any real conversation with them. 

Slipping a hand into his jean pocket, he fishes out the pack of cigarettes he always kept on standby. He tilts his head down, fringe falling across his forehead and the world around him goes dark as he lights the embers and takes a long drag. 

"Mind if I bum one?" 

He hadn't noticed her approach, the sound of her footsteps easily drowned out by the commotion around them. But there she stands. With dark brown curls that fall down her shoulders, a white flannel tucked into her navy jeans and a vintage-looking bag slung over one arm, fingers curled around its thick leather strap. 

Jungkook glances left, then right, making sure that she was actually addressing him and not the homeless-looking man a couple of feet away. She nods to the pack, still resting in his palm with an expectant but friendly smile. 

He springs into action right away, "Uh, sure." Shoving his own cigarette between his lips, he fumbles to pluck a second one from the box. The lighter comes next and she accepts both with a grateful hum. 

His next swallow goes down with strained effort as he watches her put a flame to it and inhaling. Jungkook hadn't pegged someone like her for a smoker, but he finds himself completely entranced by the way her mouth wraps around the cigarette. He doesn't even realize she's returning the lighter until its back in his palm, and he stares at it dumbfoundedly. 

"Can I?" she then asks as she gestures toward the open slot beside him. 

He mods, scooting over to give her room as she takes a seat. His own cigarette sits forgotten between his lips as he steals a peek at her through the corner of his eye. She tips her head back, long and dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks when she savors another puff. 

"Long day?" he finds himself asking, finally regaining that of his composure. Usually he hates small talk, but something about her makes him open up for it anyway. 

She grins, "Yeah. Something like that. You?" 

Jungkook scoffs. His day had started less than two hours ago — but sure, his mother's nagging had put a dampen on his mood. He busies himself with a long drag, letting the ash slip down his throat like some reverse chimney. When he turns his attention back to her, he finds her free hand extended. 

"What's your name?" she asks when their fingers lace together in a simple greeting. 

"Jungkook," he says, taking a moment to study the intricate swirls of polish on her nails. 

She tries his name out for herself, tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth in approval, like he'd just passed some unknown test of hers.

"I'm Yelena." 

Their gazes meet and whatever pathetic answer had waited on his tongue vanishes as he loses himself in the way her brown eyes glimmer under the hot afternoon sun. She withdraws her hand all too soon, lifting it to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she brings the cigarette back to her lips. "Nice to meet you, Jungkook." 

Yelena — or, Yelena Louise Emerson, as her full name was, not that it mattered of course — was a lot more decent than the girls from his high school years. She spoke with grace he hadn't known before, the words coming effortlessly even as she discusses the most mundane topics, and Jungkook finds himself clinging onto each sentence. 

After finishing their cigarettes he proposes a walk which she happily agrees to. They cover every inch of the city side by side, moving at a leisure pace and stopping to peer at trees, park benches and other nonsensical stuff. He learns that she's two years his junior, her eighteenth birthday coming up in September, two weeks after his twentieth. 

She had graduated only a month prior and was going into fashion school this fall. "What about you?" Yelena asks when they cross the bridge going over the canal. Jungkook's steps falter, his twitching hands finding purchase in the pockets of his loose jeans. He hadn't thought much of what he wanted to if he was being honest — university never enticed him, hell, he barely made it through senior year. 

He shrugs, "I don't know. Don't got no plan." Right now he was leeching off his parents, had been for the past two years without shame. A job felt like a sadistic play of torture and he had no intentions of acquiring one in the near future. 

"Really?" Yelena has stopped too, she was now leaning against the railing, arms folded across her chest. "I figured you were in a garage band or something." 

Jungkook frowns, "What?"

But she simply raises him a brow, shooting him a pointed look and he glances down to his attire. The crease on his forehead deepens as he studies the ill-fitted t-shirt, which he regrets not washing as he stands before her. He lingers on the print across his torso, "What's wrong with Black Sabbath?" 

Yelena laughs, the sound echoing off the bridge they stand on and Jungkook blinks in surprise. "Not that," she gestures toward him in his entirety, "You got the look." Cocking her head to the side, she thoughtfully adds, "I like it." 

The tips of his ears burn pink at that and Jungkook quickly clears his throat as he squints toward the scorching sun. He can feel her gaze on him even as he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge it. Part of him wishes she would look away, the other longs for her undivided attention.

"Are you wearing makeup?" 

Her sudden question catches him off guard and he sends her a puzzled look. Yelena points to her own eyes and Jungkook reaches a finger up to caress one of his lids. "Oh," he muses, "Yeah, I guess." The black charcoal he wore was part of his everyday appearance, sometimes he even slept in the smudged eyeliner — it was a bitch to wash off anyway. Though Jungkook had never considered it makeup. This was just who he was. 

Yelena nods, cracking a small smile as the afternoon sun illuminates her dark curls, "Looks cool." 

After their first rendezvous they agreed to meet up again. Nothing crazy, another walk around town, coffee at the local cafes, a shared lunch, stuff like that. It wasn't much but suddenly Jungkook had more a reason to roll out of bed each day. He even made an effort to brush his teeth in the morning and changing into clothes that hadn't been decaying on his floor for the past week. 

His parents caught on rather quickly. Suppose it might've had something to do with the fact that he was skidding down the stairs at an adequate 10am instead of 2pm. "Going somewhere?" his father had asked as he peered up from behind the day's paper. 

Jungkook came to a halt in front of the hallway mirror, shoving a hand through his wild hair once, then twice. "Nope," he'd clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Just headin' on a walk." Whether they bought the cheap excuse or not was of no difference to him, he'd left through the front door before either of them had time to process his response. 

On their fourth get-together, Yelena had pointed to his eyebrow. "Did it hurt?" she asks, curiosity lacing her words. They were sat criss-cross on top of the plaid blanket she'd brought from home, shaded by the large oak tree they huddled under. 

"Nah," Jungkook shrugged, one of his fingers toying idly with the spiky end of his piercing. "I'm thinkin' of getting more." He liked to pride himself on having quite the pain tolerance, a needle going through his brow hadn't been much of a fuss, nor the patchwork of tattoos he'd started on his right forearm. 

The park was oddly quiet on that Saturday morning, with only a few birds chirping in the distance and the gentle breeze that brushes through their hair. "I think lip piercings are cool," Yelena muses, her eyes lingering on his mouth as she said the words. 

Jungkook felt his throat go dry and he hoped she didn't notice that he fought to swallow. "Yeah?" he cleared his throat, "They're alright." He'd tired to play it off, but his nonchalance only lasted him so far — and the very next week the needle had sliced his bottom lip, a silver ring now hugging it. 

The more time they spent together the more he learned about her — for Yelena came with a lot of surprises. She knew how to sew, crochet and knit, in fact each piece in her wardrobe she had designed and made herself. It became clear when taking a closer look at the personalized flair of her shirt, the added flowers to her jeans or the headband she had crafted from her mother's old dress. 

Her dream was to open her own clothing store in the future, though she said that fashion school was a decent start in said direction. Jungkook agreed, he said that she was no doubt talented, she was bound to be a success — which was more than what could be said about him. 

His infatuation with Yelena grew for each minute spent in her presence. And soon enough he was working up the courage to ask her on an actual date with him. It had been meek attempt. The words tumbled clumsily from his tongue and he had said them with a slight stutter, pathetic really. And yet — she'd said yes. 

So he took her to the movies, bought her a soft drink and popcorn. Then he watched her through the corner of his eye as the film played on the big screen before them. He noted the way her lips would twitch whenever she found a line particularly amusing, the rapid flutter of her lashes as she blinked the tears away during emotional scenes. 

Under the dimmed lights of the movie theater Jungkook had kissed her for the first time. A shy peck at first, testing the waters. But then she had kissed him back — slipped him tongue right there over their shared popcorn — and holy shit, Jungkook knew he was a goner. 

Summer came to an end all too quickly. And though Jungkook's routines included minimal change with the turn of season, things would not stay the same between him and Yelena. For all of July and August they had been basking in their own simple sanctuary. Passing a cigarette back and forth on his bed, listening to his 8-track together or going on long walks by the canal. 

Yelena would be busy most of the time from here on out. School was robbing him of her warm presence and giddy laughter. A selfish part of him wanted to ask of her to give it up and just stay with him as they were — he almost did. But this was her dream, and what was she to do with him? Sleep until noon and smoke cigarettes whilst leeching off her parents? No, Yelena was better than him. 

Jungkook knew that if he wanted to keep her in his life, he would have to make a change. His mother had raised him a brow when he brought up the idea of getting a job. Though she seemed happy that he was finally pulling himself together and making an effort. 

"Does this have something to do with the girl you've been seeing?" she asks over the breakfast table that morning. 

Jungkook snorts, "No." Blatantly ignoring the fact that his face was beet red as he shoved more eggs into his mouth and chewed quickly. But it had everything to do with her — as all things did recently. 

He managed to get a position at the local gas station. The hours were long and the tasks were boring. Each second spent there killed him and he nearly quit a handful of times. The thought of Yelena kept him going. She'd told him during one of their dates that she wanted to move out of her parents house, and he was hellbent on making it a reality for her. 

It took four months of hard work. Four months of resetting pumps and mopping floors as he busted his ass trying to save up. In that time he grew balls enough to ask her to be his girlfriend, like, officially. Jungkook had never had a girlfriend before, most of them were just brief one night stands and flirtatious banter. So he was determined to do things right with Yelena. 

From bringing her flowers each time they saw each other to splurging what was left of his paycheck on jewelry for her. She would always tell him that there was no need for materialistic things like that, but Jungkook didn't know how else to express his feelings, which led him to getting her even more stuff. 

But by the four month mark there was enough money in his account to pay off the first month's rent on a small, one-bedroom apartment. Jungkook had never felt more proud of himself as he handed her the spare keys, "It's ours now." 

The place wasn't luxurious by any means. Water pumped slowly, it took long for the shower to even heat up, but Yelena was happy, and that was what mattered. 

Living together wasn't bad at all. Of course they got on each other's nerves from time to time, it was inevitable. Suppose Jungkook did play his music a little too loud at times, but she would litter fabric and thread throughout the flat — making him curse loudly whenever he pricked himself on a hidden needle. 

Every moment, both good and bad, is what made those first months so special. It was where Jungkook truly fell in love with Yelena — it was also when he first had the guts to tell her that he did. 

A year passed as they spent both Christmas and New Year's together. That apartment saw everything. From them enjoying the first snow, to watching the birds as they returned in spring, to laying on the hard, wooden floors together as the summer rays spilled through the dirty windows. 

This was his happy place. 

Sunday afternoons were Jungkook's least favorite part of the week. It meant that the short weekend with Yelena was coming to an end. She would return to school come Monday morning, and he would have to haul his ass back to the gas station for another ten hour shift. 

The sheets are pooled around his waist, his glistening chest rising and falling slowly as he peers up at the ceiling. Sex usually took his mind off the gloomy reality that prowled the outskirts of his thoughts. The aftermath of his orgasm still lingers in his stomach and legs, they feel heavy where he sprawls out across the mattress. Today the voices are louder than the euphoric high of busting a nut. 

Yelena sits against the headboard beside him, her dark curls cascading down her shoulders in that post-intimacy way he loved so much. The cigarette hangs loose between her fingers, her gaze fixed ahead when she brings it up for another long drag. He could watch her for hours without ever growing tired, finding something new to obsess over each time — and if he didn't, then he would simply go back to her eyes, her eyes were everything. 

When she notices his lingering stare, she tilts her head with a lopsided grin. "What is it?" she muses around the cigarette, cocking a brow his way.

Jungkook sighs, a long, heavy sigh that had been sitting between his ribs for a while now. "Thinkin'…" 

She huffs, her serene expression doing little to mimic the conflicting feelings inside of him. "Uh-oh, that's never a good thing," Yelena drawls and he resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead muttering a quiet 'shut the fuck up' as he inhales. 

Silence falls over their small bedroom and by the time Jungkook finally speaks again, she's already finished the cigarette and put it out on the tray atop the bedside table. "Just— This," he gestures to the pale walls, the uneven floorboards and their rumpled sheets, "It's not enough." 

Yelena says nothing, but her lack of response only fuels him on. He peers up at her from where he lays, her brown irises reflecting in the afternoon sun, lips slightly parted in a question she has yet to ask. 

"I'm going to give you a good life," Jungkook states. 

She frowns, still slightly dazed from the moment they'd shared but conscious enough to pick up on what he was saying. "You already have," she turns to lay beside him, cheek propped up on her palm. 

Jungkook shakes his head, "Not good enough." The paycheck he received from slaving away at the gas station covered rent and then some. It was hardly a lavish life, and he knew that the small flat was eating away at Yelena, even if she never voiced it out loud. 

His arm hooks around her naked waist, pulling a squeal from her as he tugs her closer. Then he rolls on top of her, elbows bent as his lips brush hers. "I want to give you a real house," he murmurs between lazy kisses, "A big one." 

Yelena giggles beneath him, her hands finding their way to the back of his neck. "With white picket fences?" she wonders, there's a playful edge to the way she says it — but Jungkook is being dead serious. 

"Yes," he presses another kiss to her lips, "Sparkling chandeliers, a fireplace in the living room." He trails his affection to her jaw, tasting the sweat that still clings to her skin, "A large dining table, our own master bedroom…" His mouth finds her neck, breath ghosting over the marks he'd previously left. 

The idea blooms in his mind with each passing beat of his heart and he becomes surer of himself. "Would you like that?" He leans back enough to meet her gaze, and fuck, if she wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes upon. 

Yelena smiles, wide enough for her face to crinkle and her teeth to be put on display. "Yeah," she whispers, "I'd love that." 

It took him less than a second to join their lips together in a kiss full of hope. For a brief moment, he allows himself to believe that he could do more — be better — for her. Tomorrow seems far away, the floors that need to be mopped and the pumps he'll be resetting would not be his future, that much he's sure of. 

Jungkook wasn't a man of many talents. He'd tried to get into music once, begged his father to buy him an electric guitar only to quit after two weeks when he'd accidently snapped one of its strings. Painting was fun, for about three hours, until the color ended up bleeding through the canvas and he was left a frustrated mess. Then there had been chess, soccer, basketball, hell, he'd even tried gardening only for the plants to die under his care. 

One thing Jungkook did possess some know-how for — was tech. Nothing of the extreme sort. He would fix the antenna on the TV at home whenever it started acting up, re-wire the landline to better the sound quality for his mother, he'd even built in a custom speaker into his 8-track to enjoy even louder music. 

He figured that if there was one thing he might've had at least half a shot at, then it would be this. Long nights were spent sketching new models for the already advancing technology. Yelena had whined when he picked apart their landline a third time that week — though Jungkook insisted that he needed to figure out exactly how each part connected. 

It was a tedious process, crumpled papers littering the bedroom as he sat with a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, frantically trying to come up with improvements. And after a month of hard labor he thought he'd gotten a decent grasp on it. He consulted Yelena about some of his ideas, she said they were bound to be a success! 

Feeling rather confident after his girlfriend's praise, Jungkook had built up the courage to pitch said ideas to a few investors. He'd borrowed a suit from his father, combed his unruly hair back, even wiped the charcoal off his eyes. 

When walking across the marbled floor with the dress pants digging into his thighs and the cufflinks snug around his wrists, Jungkook felt like an imposter. He knew little about the corporate world and as he eyed the others in the lobby, he noticed their straightened postures and refined edges, nothing like that of his lazy slouch. 

No one spoke, which suited Jungkook just fine and he got comfortable on one of the unoccupied couches. There he tried to mimic their stance, though ultimately gave up and let his shoulders sag again. 

He lets his eyes wander across the rather futuristic interior. The grey walls were textured to replicate that of stone. Three spheres hung from the high ceiling, their shiny surfaces reflecting him where he sat cross-legged on the low, orange seat. They cost a fortune no doubt, as the rest of the place did. 

To his left there was greenery, a large ficus tree. He reached out to trap one of its leaves between his index and middle finger, only to be disappointed when he found that it was plastic. Turning his attention back to his hands, he instead gets to thinking about his next tattoo, he'd like something on his knuckles. 

A clock ticks slowly in the distance, interfering his thoughts and soon Jungkook finds himself counting each second in small groups of ten. Ten seconds here, ten seconds there. Six of those made a minute — a dozen made two. Three dozen of them later, the door across the room slid open. 

Out came a bitter-looking woman in a pencil skirt. She struts forward, heels clacking against the marble tiles, demanding everyone's attention as she comes to a halt before the cluster of sofas. Then she clears her throat loudly with a 'hmpf' sound, adjusting the clipboard in her hand as she pushes the glasses higher on her nose. 

"Gentlemen," her voice is short and clipped, and she seems to hold no one in regard when she speaks. "How fortunate that you're all here," it came out sarcastically, "You'll have five minutes in there each — don't whine for more time." A scribbling noise follows as she jots something down on the clipboard, drawing a harsh line across it before her eyes turn to peer out over the candidates. 

"Mr. Jeon, welcome inside first." 

The room beyond the door was much darker than the lobby. With only a small overhead light bulb to illuminate the spot he stood under. To his right there was a chalkboard intended for his use, Jungkook hesitated as he eyed it. Across from him was a long table, holding five men in suits. They looked to be in their fifties, possibly early sixties. 

Their conversation was a hushed murmur as they sipped on their coffee and aimlessly flipped through papers. No one seems to have noticed his arrival and if they had, they simply paid him no mind. The clock sounds somewhere behind him, a reminder that time was dire and Jungkook took a small step forward. 

"Hello—" he cringes at how unsure he sounds, "My name is Jungkook. I'm here to…" 

Neither of the men had paused to as much as glance in his direction, all of them occupied with whatever matter was being discussed over their morning coffee. He studies them for a long while, gaze narrowing as he follows the movement of their lips, a muscle in his jaw ticking each time they flick their tongues against the roof of their mouths — their skin pulling taut whenever they grinned to show off yellow-stained teeth. 

The mugs and papers on the table rattle when Jungkook slams his briefcase down on it, effectively drawing all eyes to himself. Not one of them had seen him storm up to where they sat, not one of them seems to have expected it either. He bites back a sneer, shoving the thoughts aside as he clears his throat. 

"Ah, who do we have here?" The man who sits in the middle finally acknowledges him as he leans back in his seat. He looks to be the oldest of the bunch, the mustache above his top lip had begun graying slightly. His dull eyes scan Jungkook up and down with little care as he twists a ballpoint pen between his fingers. 

Jungkook straightens up, towering over them all where he stands — it hardly provided any comfort. "Jeon Jungkook, sir." The formality tastes foul but he forces it out anyway. 

The man nods, glancing toward the briefcase unenthusiastically. "And what do you have for us today?" He sounds bored already, not a great start. The others have yet to speak but at least they were no longer ignoring his presence. 

There's a moment where he hesitates, fingers curling around the handle of the briefcase he'd so carelessly thrown onto the table. The metal latches come undone as Jungkook opens the case, turning it around to show the contents inside. 

All five men lean forward, brows furrowing across their foreheads. "What is the meaning of this?" The one to the left asks as he lifts his gaze. 

Jungkook gestures to the ordinary looking landline he'd brought along with him, then to the wires and copper hardware laying beside it. "It goes inside your telephone, sir." He forces a small smile that doesn't feel at all genuine, "It's a built in sound monitor, meaning you'll get a variety of ring tones other than the standard one." 

He'd tried it out for himself back home. Rather than the obnoxious shrill that most people had become so accustomed to, it now gave a pleasant, synth-like signal whenever a call was received. He presses the button labeled 'zero' twice and a simple melody begins playing. It fills the space between them all for a full minute, and Jungkook gauges their reactions closely — which was damn near impossible as they remained carefully neutral. 

When it comes to an end he swallows, one finger still hovering above the button without pushing down.

The man who'd originally made the inquiry lets out a sharp breath that comes across as half a laugh, and not a kind one. The rest send each other pointed glances, their attention returning to the piece of hardware and telephone inside the suitcase. He did not know if they liked it or not but he'd already wasted more than half his time by showing it off, so he continues briskly, trying not to let their scrutinizing glances bother him. 

"Replacing the ringer current with this installment provides five different sounds which can be altered to your liking. The copper line attaches just as the traditional one would with 90 volts but I believe that it's possible to tweak the quality of—" 

"Listen kid," the man in the middle stretched in his seat. The ballpoint pen dropped slightly between his fingers before he picked it up again. "Getting to pick a song you fancy is cute and all, I mean, what you showed was nice. But there's no money in it." He strokes his mustache, pretending to think it over once more though he hadn't as much as peeked at the mechanism a second time. 

His brows twitch and Jungkook rolls his shoulders as he bites back a snide comment. "There could be. If it was marketed right then surely—" 

"Marketing," the man sighs, "Costs money." He reaches forward to close the briefcase once more. "And I suppose you've thought of how to work around that?"

To that Jungkook can only shake his head. He'd been so caught up developing the new feature that the thought of launching it to the public hadn't crossed his mind. But how hard could it be — just print it on a few posters to garner interest, no? 

The man, however, seems far from impressed. "Advertising it would cost more than its worth," he says, "As would mass production. No one is going out of their way to spend money on a giddy ringtone, especially not with the current state of our economy." 

He taps the blunt end of his pen against the briefcase, "You've got bright ideas kid. But it won't make business." Nudging the case back toward Jungkook, he stifles a yawn. "Don't waste your time on aesthetics and do something useful instead, will you?" The other men huff under their breaths, amused smirks playing on their lips, some of them even commenting on the 'silly' melody. 

Jungkook forces the objection down his throat when the door behind him opens, signaling that his time was up. He says nothing when snatching the briefcase back, sealing it up and turning on his heel to leave. 

Yelena hadn't commented on his slumped shoulders or prolonged silence when he returned home. She simply kissed his cheek and told him that he'd have more luck next time. Ironic, Jungkook thought but held his tongue. 

He sat on the edge of the bed for a long while that night, the copper wires and software he'd spent a month carefully crafting resting in his palms. It looks pathetic. He thumbs the corner of the hardware idly, scoffing to himself before curling his fingers around it. 

"Aesthetics," he mutters to himself before hurling it against the wall. 

Jungkook spends the next couple of weeks picking up more shifts at the gas station. He monitors pumps, deals with drunks by the register who try to bargain for their fuel, restocks shelves and scrubs floors. Each day weighs on him harder than the last. And whenever he wasn't working he was moping in the apartment, chugging beer like it was water. 

Christmas comes and goes, the new year begins and soon spring was in full bloom. He thinks that he might just be promoted to manager at the station if he keeps this up. His parents surely thought him a failure — he knew that he was — even so, they said nothing. Perhaps they were happy enough that he was at least attempting to make a living for himself and Yelena. 

Yelena. 

Jungkook thinks she might be the only thing that gets him through the long hours behind the counter. Whenever the sky seems particularly dull or the thought of resigning becomes too tempting, he always imagines coming home to her. To find her on the couch, sketching new costume designs and chatting away eagerly about the new fabrics they had gotten in for the month. 

Her studies were important to her — her path in life was set straight. Sometimes Jungkook felt as though he was merely following wherever the tides took her as he scrambled to keep up. The idea doesn't bother him as much as it should, before her there had been no reason to do anything but smoke his days away. 

Within Yelena he found his purpose. 

That's why his heart had dropped to his knees when he found her curled into a ball on the bathroom floor that one late evening in March. He'd returned home from another long and dreary shift monitoring pumps and sorting shelves, calling out for his girlfriend when stepping through the front door — only to be met with silence. 

Yelena would always greet him with a kiss on the cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck, adding on to the long list as to why Jungkook knew he wanted to marry her one day. But that night — the flat had been silent. 

Jungkook kicked off his shoes and ventured through the living room. "Baby?" he calls, half-expecting her to launch herself at him from whatever corner she'd been hiding in. Instead the one response he gets are the muffled sobs coming from the bathroom down the hall. 

He moves without thinking, bursting through the door with enough force to have it slam against the wall. "Baby!" He's prepared himself for the worst, at least so he tells himself. But seeing her like this — with her arms hugging her knees to her chest, choking on her own tears as she buries her face against the fabric of her pants — it breaks something in him. 

Gaze scanning the area frantically for the culprit of whatever had upset her, he comes to a stop when he catches sight of the pregnancy test sitting on the counter. Jungkook wasn't a complete moron, the red circle conveyed the exact reason for his girlfriend's distress and he sank to his knees beside her, joining her on the tiled floor. 

"I don't know what to do…" She manages to croak when he pulls her to his chest. Yelena's voice was always so bright and full of confidence. Now it sounds small. She trembles against him, fingers clutching weakly at his shirt as she continues to ramble incoherently, "I-I mean, I'm still in school and I can't just— We can't just…" 

Jungkook is only half listening to what she says. His thoughts have already wandered into territory which they had never before explored. He imagines what this would mean for the two of them, a child, something of their own. The thought of becoming a father terrified him, fuck, he was a terrible role model. Barely took care of himself, how on earth was he supposed to set his own kid straight? 

And yet, he can't deny the way his heart flutters when he sees the look in Yelena's eyes, glossed over with tears — though he weren't so sure they were sad anymore. "I love her terribly already," she admits in a quiet whisper. Jungkook's brain short circuits and he tilts her head back with a puzzled frown. 

"Her?" 

Yelena nods, the corner of her lip twitching into the ghost of that stupid smile he adored so much. "Just a gut feeling," she murmurs with a shrug. 

A gut feeling… Jungkook considers her words, his fingers stroking the line of her jaw carefully. A baby girl. Their baby girl. His entire being shifts in a new direction and he swallows to try and combat his suddenly dry throat. "What do you want to do?" He quietly asks, keeping his tone as neutral as he can, though the hesitation betrays his hope. 

She draws in a long breath, blinking slowly before moving her eyes up to meet his, "I want to keep her." 

Jungkook tries to ignore the fireworks going off inside of him as he leans in to let his nose brush against hers. "Then we will," he does not know where the sudden surge of confidence had come from, but he seizes the moment and presses his lips to hers in a tender kiss. 

Her doubt becomes evident in the way she slowly reciprocates the gesture, he knew her well enough to practically be able to hear the thoughts swirling inside her head. 

When they pull back he lets his forehead rest against hers, finding her gaze through heavy lids. "I'll figure it out. The money, the house, everything." His knuckles brush her cheek, the promise lingering between them, and Jungkook prays that he can make good on it. 

Yelena nods, allowing him to pull her in for another kiss, his next words a mere breath on her tongue: 

"I'll make it work." 

Yelena was fast asleep by the time Jungkook pulled his hoodie on that night. The moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating her figure under the covers as she rests quietly. He tucks the blanket over her shoulders, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead in a wordless goodbye. 

He pads soundlessly across the floor, stopping once he reaches the threshold to their bedroom. Allowing himself one final glance at her peaceful face with the promise he'd made weighing heavy on his heart — Jungkook then slips out of their apartment without hesitation. 

The streets are vacant after midnight and he makes his way down the pavement slowly. He has no real plan, wandering aimlessly past closed shops and empty benches. His hands rest within the front pocket of the large hoodie, March is unforgiving and cold, he should've brought a jacket, he thinks. But he doesn't turn back around, he can't, not until he's figured out what to do. 

Maybe he could pick up a second job? Then again, he was already spending each waking second at the gas station. He would have to sacrifice sleep all together if he wanted to save up enough to move Yelena out of that shitty flat. 

He comes to a halt under one of the streetlights, fingers slipping into the front pocket of his jeans to curl around the lighter he always kept on him. Tongue darting out to wet his dry lips, his other hand fishes out the pack of cigarettes. He plucks one out, flicks the lighter once, casting a flame which he shields with his palm. 

But he never lights it. 

His mind strays by the pregnancy test, still sitting on the bathroom counter, the one that had changed the trajectory of his life just a couple of hours ago. Jungkook could be a father a year from now — responsible for a life beyond his own. He twirls the cigarette between two fingers with a frown. Then he tosses the entire pack into the nearest bin and keeps walking. 

He's made it a couple of blocks when the first droplet lands on his cheek, the next one on the tip of his nose. The rain picks up the longer he walks, turning from a soft patter to a steady fall. It soaks through his clothes and he pulls the hood over his head to little avail. 

The pavement turns shiny, reflecting the street lights in blurry patches. Water splatters beneath the soles of his shoes as he trudges forward, disobeying the wind's harsh tugs as it tries to pull him back. 

He rounds a corner a while later, coming face to face with a tall building he recognizes with contempt. Its big windows, illuminated entrance sign, the men in suits, their frowns and sneers, their rejection that still wounds his pride to acknowledge. He stands there for a long moment, studying the large empire with a scrutinizing glare. 

One day, he thinks to himself. One day he'll prove those self righteous assholes wrong. "Fuckin' aesthetics my ass," he spits before turning away. 

Jungkook is soaked from head to toe when he reaches the next big street crossing. The lights are blaring red but not a single car has passed him since he set out over an hour ago. He keeps his feet on the white lines when he makes his way across, counting them under his breath. 

"One, two, three… Seven, eight, nine…" He frowns when reaching the last one, stomping his left foot against it once to make up for the road's lack of decency by ending on an uneven number. He mulls over this for a couple of seconds as he makes his way onto the sidewalk, and it's not until he finally lifts his gaze that he sees it. 

It's right there — squeezed between the laundromat and the bakery. Its empty display window and worn door calling to him like a siren would her sailor. 

He steps forward, halting by the large window where he's greeted with his own sullen reflection. Jungkook looks like shit but does not dwell on it, no, his attention is captured by the crooked sign stuck to the inside of the glass. He reads it once, twice, just to be sure: "FOR RENT." 

At first he shrugs the idea off. He couldn't afford to gamble like that, hell, he barely made enough at the gas station to cover his and Yelena's expenses, much less something like this. Yet his feet refuse to move, keeping him rooted to the spot as he squints against the harsh rain. 

The space was small but it would surely do. There was a counter to the left, another door which looked like it lead into a storage room of sorts. He could put up shelves on his own, maybe— No. He shakes his head but his eyes are already going over the number attached to the sign, memorizing the sequence without meaning to. 

There's a phone booth down the street and despite the late hour he heads for it, cutting the distance in less than ten long strides. He seeks refuge from the rain, wet fingers slipping against the buttons as he dials for the only person he could think to reach for in the moment. 

The line rings for a full minute and he's forced to listen to the static noise as he presses the handset to his ear. His teeth have torn the flesh of his bottom lip apart by the time the call connects and a familiar voice fills the small space he stands in. 

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" His words are groggy with sleep and a pang of guilt twists in Jungkook's chest at the chiding tone that was used. 

"Father I—" he turns to the empty display window and swallows, "I need a favor." 

Jungkook feels a strange sense of pride as he twists the keys in the lock a week later and steps inside his store for the first time. With the help of his parents he'd been able to place a down payment on the first three months' rent and while the space could use some sprucing up — it would get the job done. 

He spends his evenings off work cleaning the place, dusting off empty shelves and mopping floors — something he'd gotten very good at might he add. Yelena came to lend a hand, her artistic skills coming in clutch where his lacked. She helped him print a makeshift sign which they hung in the display window and that very next Monday he was proudly able to open the doors to 'Jeon Electronics Repair and Part Distributions.' 

"You sure about this?" Yelena had asked as she watched him get dressed that morning. She'd personally tailored his clothes for him, sewing on a logo they had come up with together onto the chest part. 

Jungkook nodded, combing his hair back with extra care as he peered at himself in the mirror. "As sure as I'll ever be," he'd said. And even though his palms were clammy with sweat and his heart racing in his chest — he knew that it was the truth. 

The shop opened early that morning, when the streets were littered with people all rushing to their 9-5. Jungkook watches as they pass by through the large window, busying himself with rearranging the TVs and landlines which he'd decorated the shelves with. 

He checks the time, 8:17 am. Seventeen minutes. His fingers tap against the counter when he retakes his place behind it, waiting anxiously for his first customer. By noon the store had been void of people, save for himself. Yelena brought him lunch on her break from class. When she asked how things were going he'd lied. 

The first few days were rough, horrible even. The hours went by without a single interruption and Jungkook grew all the more restless as time progressed. He'd managed to negotiate his hours at the gas station to weekends and nights — which wasn't ideal but he knew that he couldn't afford to give up the treacherous job just yet. 

Stubborn as he was, he returned Monday through Friday during that first week, flipping the open sign with more force for each day. He saw less and less of Yelena, only managing a brief thirty minutes during dinner time before he had to leave for his shift. 

She never pointed out the bags under his eyes, or the fact that he had yet to mention any sort of success within his new career path. But Jungkook knew that she was thinking long and hard about him at night, he would find her tossing and turning in bed whenever he returned home at dawn, managing a quick nap before setting out to work again. 

By Wednesday during his second week, time began to blur. His lack of proper sleep was quickly catching up and the ringing silence of his small shop easily lulled him into slumber, leaving him to doze off by the counter more than often. Had he been better rested, he might've heard the door chime that afternoon. Instead, the voice of an older woman is what brings him back to life. 

"Excuse me—" 

The light tap to his shoulder jolts him awake, his head snapping up from where it had been lolling against his folded arms. With bleary eyes he squints against the harsh light, blinking rapidly as the lady before him floats into vision. The sun behind her reflects off her back, casting a halo around her frame, making her look just like like the saint he'd been waiting for all along. 

Jungkook clears his throat, straightening up despite the protests of his aching limbs. "Uh— Yes, hello." He rubs a sheepish hand across the nape of his neck. 

His first customer was a woman in her late forties. With short, black hair in a bob, clad in a long, navy coat that reaches to her knees. Her freshly painted bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, eyes flitting around the shop. "I saw the sign and…" she hesitates, "Do you think you could take a look at this for me?" 

It's then he notices the landline she clutches tightly in both hands. He blinks once, mentally slapping himself to make sure that she was real, that this was actually happening. "Yeah— Sure, no problem." He's quick to slip back into the service role he'd developed during his shifts at the gas station as he retrieves the black box from her. 

"What seems to be the problem?" he asks when turning the telephone over in his palms. 

The lady hums and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Well, it keeps cutting in and out whenever I make calls. My husband tried to mend it but I have a feeling he's just made it worse…" 

Jungkook nods, all too familiar with his father trying to get the TV at home to work by smacking the entire thing a couple of times before getting frustrated. He pinches the cord between two fingers, "It could be a faulty handset, or perhaps a damaged patch cable." 

His diagnosis is followed by silence and when he glances up he finds the woman regarding him with a puzzled frown. "It's an easy fix," he says, the corner of his mouth tugging into a lopsided grin. 

"Really?" she wonders, hope striking her features, "You don't think I'll need to purchase a new one?" 

He shakes his head confidently, "Not at all. I'll need an hour or so if that's okay." Leaning over the counter, he points to the window, "There's a cafe just across the street if you'd like to wait around nearby." 

The lady sighs in relief, some of tension ebbing away from her stiff posture as she nods. "Okay, I'll do that." She bids him farewell and Jungkook listens for the sound of her departure before turning to the landline in front of him. 

With no proper education on things like this, he figured he would just have to work with the knowledge he already had. He'd messed with the cords to the handset at home a handful of times and after spending over a month picking stuff like this apart to peer inside, he felt he had a good grasp on things. 

The world outside keeps moving, people pass by the display window as they talk eagerly among themselves, the sun moving lower across the sky. But the air inside his workshop remains peaceful, the reigning silence interrupted only by the sounds of him screwing the handset apart to locate the issue. 

Just as he presumed, one of the wires had nearly burnt through. Replacing it would erase the problem again. He heads over to the small storage unit where he kept the spares he'd bought with what was left of the money his father lent him. 

When ruffling through the box of copper, however, his attention catches on the same hardware he'd developed a couple of weeks back. The rejection he'd faced by the investors still makes him frown, their words tasting bitter in his mouth. Aesthetics. Cute. He pinches the wire he'll be needing, turning back to the door which he'd come through just a minute ago. 

But before he can walk out of the room, he pauses. He throws a glance over his shoulder, jaw clenching as he battles himself. His free hand closes into a fist before releasing again and Jungkook exhales a sharp breath. Without stopping to question his next course of action, he grabs the hardware and heads out to patch up the phone waiting on the counter. 

The lady returns just as they agreed upon an hour later. She pauses when she finds that her landline looked no different than it had when she dropped it off. "Is it.." pointing toward it with a subtle frown, "Is it fixed?" 

Jungkook gives a tilt of his chin, "Should be good as new. Why don't you try calling someone?" 

She hesitates for a second before picking up the handset and bringing it to her ear. Her polished nail moves across the buttons as she dials a number familiar to her, letting it ring for a while before it connects. "Hello— Hi honey," she pauses, "Oh no. I'm at the workshop, the guy here just got it fixed for us." 

Whilst listening to, who Jungkook presumes to be her husband, on the other end, she sends him a small smile which he returns — oddly enough. People had never been his thing, but seeing the sweet lady's face light up at the prospect of her beloved telephone working again — a result of his work — does something to him.

"No it's not cutting out at all, it's wonderful! Yes I'll let you know when I'm home— are you working late? Ah okay." 

She finishes the call with a shy tilt of her lips. "Thank you," she says, already reaching for her purse in order to pay when Jungkook suddenly remembers himself. 

"Oh, right!" he stops her halfway, "I've added something for you." Reaching for the box, he presses the button displaying the 'zero' with two quick taps. Shortly after, a soft tune begins to play. It fills the small shop, the synth a lot more pleasant than the regular high-pitched shrill the landlines would make. 

"It's a custom ring tone," he explains, "The hardware has five different tracks installed, you alter between them by pressing this button twice, a little tedious but it gets the job done." He swallows as he lifts his gaze to meet hers, anxiously awaiting her verdict. If she hated it then he was bound to be out of business by the end of the day. 

But the woman seems strangely enamored by this new revelation. "Really?" she tries the feature for herself, "And I can change them myself?"

Jungkook nods, "Yeah, anyone can do it." 

She hums a soft 'Ah, I see' leaning forward to inspect this new addition closer. The tune comes to a gentle end, leaving the two of them in silence once more. "Do I have to pay extra for this?" she wonders as her brows knit together. 

"No, no," Jungkook blurts when scratching the top of his head, "I added it without consulting you first so it's free of charge." 

The lady smiles, "This is amazing actually." She tries another of the tracks he'd installed, a look of amusement on her face, "I've never seen anything quite like it." 

She takes her leave shortly after and Jungkook exhales a breath as he slumps back against the counter. He counts the bills she left him — $20 — it wasn't enough for a house with white picket fences, but it was surely a start. 

Jungkook was rather surprised to find a short, chubby man waiting by the front of his workshop when he arrived at 7:50 am that very next morning. He was peering through the display window, thick brows furrowed deeply across his forehead. When he noticed Jungkook in the reflection he turned to him. His round face lit up, "Hello there," he says, greeting the other with a firm handshake. 

Glancing down at their joint hands, Jungkook blinks in surprise. "Hello…" he nods, "Can I uh help you?" Part of him wants to let the man know that the shop wasn't actually open yet, as though the big fat 'CLOSED' sign that hung on the door wasn't evidence enough. Though this was merely his second customer, turning him away would be bad for business, he thinks. 

The man nods, "Yes actually—" he cuts himself off as he reaches inside the bag he'd been carrying, fishing out a telephone box of the same model Jungkook had repaired just a day ago. "A colleague of mine told me that his wife had been here yesterday. He mentioned that she had a new set of ringtones installed. He explained them to be quite pleasant and you see the regular one makes my head ache terribly." Waving a dismissive hand to nothing in particular, he then turns to peer up at Jungkook with hopeful eyes, "Say— How much do you charge for the feature?" 

That week Jungkook had kept the store open Saturday through Sunday as well, pulling in more customers due to the unconventional hours. He'd made over $200 in the span of four days which was enough to boost his confidence and keep him going into the next week.

The door chime went off more times than he could count, people were spilling in from the streets faster than he was able to keep up. Most of them came in for simple repairs, a few through recommendations from friends and colleagues who had paid for his services before. 

His days were spent behind the counter, quick trips back and forth to the storage unit as he picked apart everything from landlines to heavy TVs that people somehow managed to haul all the way to his store. Often he would tweak the existing hardware, complimenting it with new, smarter and quicker features. 

"You adjust the volume with this one," Jungkook explained to the frowning man in front of him. 

He was turning a small remote control in his hands, accompanied by two simple buttons. "I can do it from the couch?" the man quires behind his bushy mustache. There was quiet hesitation lacing his question, like he thought the idea too good to be true. 

But Jungkook simply took the liberty of showing the man himself. He plugged the TV in, flicking on the first channel he came across before upping the volume with the simple remote control. "As long as you remain within range of the antenna it'll be fine," he explains when lowering the blaring sound effects of the cartoons playing. 

The man's furrowed brows had raised high enough on his head for Jungkook to get a good look at his eyes for the first time. "Indeed, this is extraordinary," he mused when taking the controller, testing the adjustments for himself. Before leaving he had shook Jungkook's hand with both of his, tipping him generously for his work. 

When the three month lease was up he'd made enough money to rent the place on his own. His job at the gas station was abandoned in favor of tending to his workshop — which was growing rapidly. Word spread quickly and all the more customers turned up on his doorstep, everyone eager to purchase the new installments he exclusively provided. 

As time passed Yelena grew all the more pregnant. She had put her studies on hold and was helping out around the shop as often as she could — even when Jungkook was breathing down her neck about giving it a rest and thinking about herself and the baby. 

"I've got it covered," he would say as they ate lunch together behind the counter, "You should be taking it easy." His gaze dropped to the round swell of her stomach, fingers reaching out to brush absently over the bump before pressing his palm flat against it. 

"I'm fine," she insisted, "Besides, I feel useless just sitting around at home all day." 

Jungkook hums, setting his unfinished chicken wrap down before sinking to his knees before her. Above him, Yelena protests, but he's hearing none of it. "Hey kid," his breath hovers above the fabric of her shirt, the material stretched thin to accommodate the life growing beneath. "Tell your mom to quit bein' so stubborn," he mumbles against the curve of her belly, "She's giving us both a headache." 

"Jungkook! Get up!" she hisses, "Customers could walk in and—" 

"Shh, shh," he hushes her with a press of his lips to the center of her stomach. "You hear that? There she goes again, always worrying about something." The scoff she emits only makes him smile and he nuzzles against her, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent of her perfume like a man starved. 

"Daddy's got everything covered, needn't to worry about a thing." 

"Geez, you're spoiling her already," she says, though there was no bite to her words. 

Jungkook hums, "Can't help it. She'll be my princess, I intend to treat her as such." 

"Princess, huh? What does that make me?" 

He grins, tilting his head back enough to peer up at her through his lashes, "My queen, of course." Fingers lacing with hers, he brings her hand to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss to her knuckles with reverent care, "Whom I intend to worship until my days on this earth are over." 

Yelena giggles at that, the curly ends of her hair bouncing as she shakes her head. "You're fucking ridiculous you know that?" 

"Yeah," he agrees with another press of his lips, "Ridiculously in love." 

Then came the day that would change his life forever. 

On a dark and dreary December night, just as the first snow had fallen — a faint cry had pierced the air inside the hospital room. 

Jungkook was kneeling by Yelena's side, her hand squeezed tightly in his as she fought through the pain with agonized yells. Each sound cut through his chest likes knifes, panic settling deep within his gut at the sight of the woman he loved, suffering like this. 

"It's okay, I'm here baby—" his voice is barely heard over her gasps and Jungkook feels truly helpless as he brushes a strand of her from her sheen forehead. "You're doing so good," he tries to soothe her but Yelena isn't listening. 

"Almost there," one of the nurses sat between her legs says. Her calm demeanor only throws him off further, how could she just smile when his girlfriend was in excruciating pain? "One more push," she encourages. 

Yelena's next scream has him resting his forehead against her shoulders, eyes screwing shut as he prays for her suffering to come to an end. He feels her body tense up against him, the blunt ends of her nails tearing through his skin as she clings to him. Jungkook lets her, his free hand keeping a white-knuckled grip on the bed sheets as he listens to her whimpers. 

Then it all stops. 

The room goes silent and Yelena's fingers go slack in his hold. He doesn't dare open his eyes, doesn't even dare lift himself up as he swallows thickly. But his ears betray him, the second that first unmistakable cry reaches him, he locks up. 

"Congratulations," the nurse's cheerful tone is barely audible, "You have a beautiful daughter." 

Jungkook's head whips in her direction, his gaze falling on the red, squirming human in her arms. She's covered in blood which the assistant nurse quickly wipes from her face before wrapping her up in blue cloth. He feels his throat dry up, all the color draining from his face as he fixates on the tiny life. 

"Do you want to hold her?" 

"W-What?" he croaks, blinking as he peers up at the nurse who'd walked over to where he sits on the floor. "Me? I don't know—" But he's already on his feet, hands awkwardly outstretched, not knowing what the hell to do with them. 

The nurse, however, doesn't hesitate as she places the small bundle in his arms. The moment he gets to hold her for the first time he feels his knees buckle. His first thought was that she was tiny, barely the size of his forearm. The second was how utterly beautiful she looks. 

Her face is scrunched up, her cries now silent as she wriggles around in his embrace. One of her arms had managed to slip free from the blanket and Jungkook's first instinct is to reach out. Her hand meets his index finger, warm to the touch as she clings to something she cannot yet see. 

"She's…" he trails off, unable to finish whatever sentence may have waited on his tongue. Instead, he brings her closer, letting that same little hand reach for his jaw, then his cheek. His vision blurs with tears that he does nothing to hide, allowing them to fall silently. 

For all that Jungkook was — he suddenly felt lost. The only thing he knew for certain was that she was his. His to love and his to protect. 

Yelena shifts slightly on the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh that has him turning to her in an instant. "Are you okay?" he reaches for her, a trembling hand finding hers as he tries to take back control over the emotions swirling within him.

She nods, a content smile playing on her lips. "Never been better," she says, her tired eyes flickering to their daughter. The nurse steps back in, gently moving the squirming baby over to Yelena, adjusting her against her mother's chest. Yelena embraces her like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Jungkook feels his heart grow double its size in his chest. 

He's back on his knees in a flash, crowding them both on the bed as he hovers as close as he can. "She looks like you," he murmurs, not knowing where he was finding the words for his mind was a mess by this point. 

Yelena chuckles, "You can tell already?" 

"Yes," he breathes. Just then, she finally opens her eyes, not a lot, a few careful blinks against the harsh and sterile overhead lights. But in them he sees the exact same warmth that had made him fall in love with her mother in the first place, "she's got your eyes." 

Their daughter makes a small noise, wriggling slightly before settling again, and Jungkook tracks each movement with microscopic precision, refusing to miss as much as a beat. 

"Do you have any names in mind?" the assistant nurse asks. 

Jungkook frowns, him and Yelena had discussed a few back and forth — none of them really sticking. Though there was one that stood out. She thought it was pretty, a name fit for a princess. He thought it reminded him of morning rain, when the world was still quiet and gentle. 

Yelena gives him a small nod and Jungkook turns to the nurse, unable to keep the smile from his lips. 

"Rayne." 

Taking care of a kid was a lot harder than it looked. It came with no instruction manual and was a lot more hands-on than he could have ever imagined. The first couple of weeks back home with Rayne were filled with sleepless nights. Him and Yelena would take turns rolling out of bed to go soothe their crying daughter.

"Baby," Yelena groaned as she tucked her face into the crook of his neck, "It's your night." And Jungkook would heave a sigh, nodding as he forced himself up and over to the little crib they had placed by the foot of their bed. 

Sometimes it would take minutes for her to fall back asleep, others he could spend a full hour rocking her back and forth, walking laps around the small flat and running his fingers through his hair. "Shh, just— Hush," he'd whisper to his crying girl, not that it ever helped — in fact it only seemed to make her cry louder. 

But when she wasn't ruining his chances of sleep, Rayne was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Jungkook found himself by her crib whenever work wasn't keeping him away. He talked to her, let her wrap her tiny hand around his finger. Most of all he loved the way she smelled — loved burying his nose in what little hair sat atop her head and simply breathe in. Yelena would laugh and call him silly, Jungkook never minded. 

He'd never thought of himself as a family man. But seeing the two of them together made him realize that he couldn't possibly wish for another outcome. Yelena was a perfect mother, and though she knew just as little about this as him, she took on her role with confidence. 

Each time he caught sight of her on the couch, with Rayne in her arms as she spoke to her so lovingly — his heart stumbled over its next beat. The world as he knew it had changed, now his daughter and the woman of his dreams were the only two that mattered. 

It didn't take long for Jungkook to realize that their current apartment was far too small for them. This wasn't a home fit for a growing family, least of all for Rayne. He wanted her to grow up someplace better. Where she could learn to take her first steps, say her first words and safely play with all the toys he intended to buy for her. 

His business, however, was taking off in tandem with his daughter's teeth growing in. The small little workshop had been upgraded to a larger one and he'd even been able to to afford his first two hires. Having extra hand around the place meant more customers, and more customers meant more money. By the time Rayne was six months old — Jungkook had scraped together enough to put down a deposit on a house he'd been eyeing for a while. 

"Can I open them yet?" Yelena had asked whilst being blindly led down the street. 

"Not yet," he mused, fighting off a stupid grin as they came to a halt before the gate. He savored the moment a second longer, then he let his hands drop to his sides, "Now." 

Taking a step to the side so to better read her expression, he watched as Yelena's gaze fell on their new home for the first time. It was a large, three-story house with bright walls and big windows that allowed for the sun to spill inside. 

Jungkook had been fantasizing about owning a property in this neighborhood ever since they first got their old apartment. And after much hard work, he'd finally made it possible. 

"Oh my—" Yelena presses a hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes even though she had yet to step inside. Her attention drops to the gate they stand by, fingers brushing the railing. "A white picket fence," she murmurs, glancing toward where it looped around the entire front yard. Nothing else came out of her mouth, rendered speechless by the same house they'd dreamed of together. 

"Wait until you see the kitchen," Jungkook grinned, already grabbing her by the hand as he led her up the graveled path to the porch. 

They settled in immediately and got to decorating the space. Yelena had always possessed more of an artistic touch than him, and he was happy to let her take the wheel as she ordered furniture and picked out tapestry. The same big chandeliers they had discussed back then were hung up in every room, sparkling in the morning rays. 

Jungkook knew that this would be his forever home. This would be the place where he and Yelena grew old together, where he would wake up by her side decades from now, still kissing her cheek and basking in a love that never died. 

For a long while things stayed that way. 

Yelena finished school and went on to open her own clothing store, with the help of Jungkook, who now considered himself a businessman. He himself, had been able to rent an entire floor in one of those ridiculously large skyscraper buildings — his office. Yelena had been there on opening day, insisting on cutting a red ribbon to make it official. He went along with it because he found her endearing. 

There was no longer a need to worry about money, about rent or whatever the future might hold. He simply devoted his days to the mother of his child, spending each second soaking up all the love he felt but never knew quite how to put into words. Suppose that's why his proposal had them both giggling over each other's sentences. 

Jungkook had known that he wanted to marry Yelena for nearly four years. Though he'd held off until the time was right — until he could proudly ask for her hand and promise her his life. 

He took her to dinner, to one of the local restaurants downtown, where they used to go back when everything was still new. Then they went on a walk under the moon, gazing up at the stars as she rambled on about the different constellations. They promenaded until they reached a familiar plaza. 

Yelena didn't recognize the fountain at first, too busy counting the lights above but when she did, she froze in her tracks. "Oh my god—" she said as she rushed up to the ledge, leaning over to dip her hand in the water, "Baby, this is where we met!" 

He watched her quietly, admiring the way her hair fall down her shoulders, the easy smile on her lips and the sound of her laughter. Then he got down on one knee, his heart thundering in his chest as he waited for her to turn back around. She did so with a frown, as though she was about to ask why he wasn't saying anything, only to gasp when she understood why. 

Jungkook had never been good with all that sappy shit. Long speeches professing his undying love were not his thing, still, he tried his best for her. He marveled at her beauty, her kindness, how grateful he was to have such a woman be the mother of his child — how is only wish now was to be able to call her his wife. 

They got married three months later. It was a big wedding, almost as extravagant as her. Each decoration was tailored to her style, the flowers, the table cloths, the archway where they stood as they took their vows. He spent hours pacing before the ceremony, practicing his speech over and over. His hair was not the wild and unruly mess it had been but a neatly combed through part of dark locks. He'd even taken out his piercings, they no longer felt like a part of him — this Jungkook was a brand new one — a married man. 

His mother cried, his father too, Jungkook cried as well, but no one shed more tears than Yelena as she said, "I do." 

Leaving Rayne with their parents, they took off on a long honeymoon consisting of endless beaches and late sunsets under palm trees. There he made love to her every single day, worshiping each limb until his kisses were littered all across her skin. He thought he couldn't be happier, but was quickly proven wrong shortly after returning home as Yelena told him that she was pregnant again. 

Jungkook was going to have a son. 

A tiny copy of himself running around their large estate. Someone he could teach how to be a man — as much as he know how to at least. And Cassian was perfect, utterly so. 

"Let me take a picture of you!" His mother said as they all gathered in their living room. They had returned home with Cassian only two days prior, but his parents were eager to see their second grandchild. Jungkook had tried to talk her out of it but there was no changing her mind. 

Yelena guided him down into an armchair, placing the tiny baby in one of his arms as she took her spot beside him. Rayne climbed into his lap cuddling up against his chest as she clutched at his shirt. 

"Well you'll have to smile a little, son," his father coaxed, pulling a laugh from his wife who rested her hand on his shoulder. 

At that, Jungkook did actually smile, he probably looked like an idiot. Not that it mattered. Nothing but this mattered — his family. He peered down at Cassian who wriggled in his embrace, feeling his lips pull into a grin so wide it almost hurt. 

His mother snapped the picture a second later, cooing at how adorable they looked. Jungkook knew he would treasure this moment forever. 

Life had this strange way of turning everything upside down when you least expect for it to. It was funny, how such an unsuspecting sunrise could lead to such a grim sunset. 

The day had started off just as normal, with him kissing Yelena goodbye on the front porch. She would be working from home while they waited for new fabrics at the store, which meant the house would be hers and the children's until that evening. Leaving his family was always the hardest part of his morning, and his kids had not made it any easier on him. 

Rayne clung to him a little tighter, her tiny arms wrapping around his leg as she sighed a quiet farewell. He'd bent down to embrace her properly, pressing his lips to her temple before straightening up and doing the same to Cassian who was held in his mother's arms. Then he had gotten in his car without as much as a clue of what was to come. 

It had been a slow morning for Jungkook as he sorted through paperwork by his desk, longing to return home. The ticking of the clock was all that could be heard for the hours leading up to lunch, save for the rustle of folders and papers as he rearranged things without actually taking a proper look. 

The call came early that afternoon. Jungkook had had half a mind to ignore it at first, not feeling like dealing with anymore investors at the moment. But something had told him to pick it up, be it the weird twist in his gut or the headache building subtly behind his eyes. So he'd reached for the handset despite his better judgment, bringing it to his ear and exhaling a deep breath. 

"Mr. Jeon?" 

It hadn't been an investor. 

"I'm calling from Amity Hospital regarding your mother and father in law. It would be best if you could get here as soon as possible." 

Jungkook did not know Mr. and Mrs. Emerson all that well. He had met them only a handful of times, the last being for Cassian's third birthday in June — that was three months ago. They were quite reserved people, even around their own grandchildren, though Jungkook knew they meant a great deal to Yelena, and her to them. 

He also knew that by the time the hospital had called to inform him about the accident — she must've already been there. So he rushed to his feet, whatever means he'd had of getting any work done disregarded in favor of his hurting wife. 

The drive was only twenty minutes, yet it felt like he sat behind the wheel for an hour, swerving through traffic and stepping on the gas a little harder than necessary. But once he made it inside and spotted Yelena on the floor by a few ambulance workers, he knew he'd been too late. 

She was all trembling limbs and shaky sobs in his arms when he finally reached her. The doctors had advised against seeing the bodies. "They do not look like your parents anymore," one of them said, the truck which hit their car had made sure of that. But she wouldn't listen, not even to Jungkook as he tried to reason with her. 

They stayed in the morgue for over an hour, her wails echoing off the sterile walls and flickering lights as she cried her heart out in front of the people who'd raised her. The children were at his parents house, safely hidden away from the anguish their mother was going through. Jungkook never left her side, but even then, there was nothing he could do to lessen the ache. 

Mr. and Mrs. Emerson died at only fifty-two and fifty-five. 

Yelena did not eat for three days. She barely left their bed and when she did, it was to make a quick trip to the bathroom before burrowing herself under the covers again. Day and night passed without much meaning for her and the endless sleep she succumbed to. The children's stay at his parents turned from a simple overnight one to almost an entire week. 

Jungkook hadn't been to the office at all. There was no space in his mind for work. He sat by the edge of their shared bed for hours, gently stroking her limp arm up and down. She would never acknowledge him, never respond to his whispered pleas and the calling of her name. 

By day four he spoonfed her soup. He gave it to her in small, manageable bites which she took without heaving as much as a breath. Yelena was always particular about her appearance, but right now she looks nothing like the woman he knows. Her hair is a wild nest atop her head, her clothes wrinkled and plastered to her body, lips chapped and dry. 

She doesn't try to stop him when he lifts her into his arms and Jungkook says nothing as he carries her toward the bathroom. Her body is boneless against his chest, her legs and arms dangling uselessly with each step he takes. 

The children would be returning home this afternoon. He could not keep them from their mother any longer — but he could spare them of witnessing her like this. 

He sits her down on the closed toilet lid. Then he undresses her carefully. The fabric smells but it barely registers, no, he's far too focused on the sickeningly pale hue to her face, the line of her collarbone that had become far too prominent after only a few days of starvation. 

Yelena doesn't shy away from being stripped bare, the only sign that she was even feeling anything but sorrow, was the shiver that ripples through her as the cold air nips at her skin. 

He runs a bath for her, filling the tub with warm water that he hopes will soothe her weak body and ease her plagued mind. Rolling his sleeves to his elbows, he transfers her gently. The goosebumps fade from her naked arms and chest, it fills him with momentary relief — though it vanishes when he sees the look on her face.

Jungkook has never lost someone close to him. Doesn't know what it feels like to grieve the people who gave you life. What he does know is that it will pass, with time. He just needs to be there for her, care for her when she's unable to care for herself. He could do that, he would do that. 

The sponge is lathered with soap and he squeezes it out into the water before bringing it to her shoulder. She flinches at the touch, only for a moment, but the small reaction was the first he'd gotten out of her in days now. He continues to wash her, making sure to get every inch of her body. 

Yelena sits quietly in the tub, the water around her is still except for the soft ripple whenever he dipped the sponge in it. He moves across her chest, over and between her breasts, down her stomach, thighs, calves and feet. She would always squirm whenever he kissed the inside of her knee, saying that it tickled. Today she doesn't even react. 

He rubs shampoo into her frizzy hair, massaging her scalp gently, the same way he would when she'd had a long day at work. It takes him nearly twenty minutes to untangle each lock, careful not to tug on the ends too hard and cause her pain. 

Once he pulls the drain and empties the tub she still hasn't moved as much as an inch. Wordlessly he lifts her back into his arms, grabbing a towel on his way before heading back into their bedroom. 

It feels like dressing up a doll when he pulls her favorite shirt over her head, tucking her arms through the sleeves and pulling it down her torso. He picks out things she would wear around the house — familiar pieces that he knows the children will recognize. 

Then he pulls her into his lap, brushing through her damp hair slowly as he speaks to her. He rambles on about whatever comes to mind, their children, work, the new sofa he was planning on purchasing. Multiple kisses are placed to the nape of her neck, her shoulder, the top of her head. 

Once he's finished she looks better. Not good, but no longer the corpse he'd found in his bed this morning. His thumb brushes over the hollow of her cheek, the shadows under her eyes — he doesn't know how to hide those. 

Jungkook tries to smile when he opens the door for his parents and children half an hour later. Both Cassian and Rayne are flinging themselves into his arms, and he hugs them back harder than he ever had. His mother offers to stay, he can tell that she means well, that she's only concerned. Still, he shakes his head and says that it's fine. The last thing Yelena needs is to be reminded of what she'd lost. 

"Can we go see mother now?" Rayne asks against his shoulder. He hesitates, prolonging the inevitable would only make matters worse. So he takes them upstairs, to where he'd left Yelena on the bed. 

She's sitting in the same spot where he'd dressed her, long hair almost dry by now. Her gaze is fixed to the far wall, the slow blinks and steady breaths she takes are the only sign of life within her. 

Rayne approaches first, hopping up onto the mattress beside her mother. "Hi mom," she says when placing a small hand on her knee, "Are you feeling better now?" An innocent question really. The kids knew what had happened, at least, as well as his own mother and father had been able to explain the concept of death to them. 

Yelena barely reacts to the gentle pat, but her eyes shift over to her daughter — it's enough to make Rayne smile. "It's okay," she says, "Your mom and dad are with the angels and the angels are nice." 

She receives no answer but doesn't seem deterred by at as she wraps her arms around her mother's waist, burying her face against her side. Yelena's lifeless eyes track the movement, but she never attempts to reciprocate the hug. 

A small tug to his sleeve makes Jungkook turn toward Cassian who had shifted to stand slightly behind him. He wears a deep frown, making him look almost frightened. His gaze flickers over to the bed and he makes a pitiful sound at the back of his throat, "Mommy is scary." 

His words were quiet enough for only Jungkook to hear, but they still cut deep. He crouches down, coming eye level with his son who stood no more than three feet tall. Reaching a hand up to stroke his dark hair back, he says, "Mommy is feeling a little sad right now. Sad people don't always look the same as happy ones, but that's still your mom. You don't have to be scared of her."

Cassian nods, a tiny tilt of his chin as he glances toward his mother and Rayne on the bed. He did not seem convinced by Jungkook's words but he did bring himself over to give her a small hug. 

Yelena did not return his embrace either, still sitting stiff as a statue on the edge of the mattress as she gazed at her children with emptiness. 

The following weeks were difficult. Jungkook tried to juggle everything at once. From taking the children back and forth to day care, getting through his busy work days and making time to tend to Yelena who was slowly getting out of bed on her own in the mornings. He spent less and less time in the office, one of the spare rooms had been converted into a makeshift study where he was able to focus for a few hours at a time. 

By the one month mark things were starting to look up. Yelena spoke again, and even though her voice lacked its previous charisma, she was no longer sitting in silence. She would ask about the kids' day, if she felt up to it she would even read them bedtime stories. 

"I can cook tonight," she said when coming downstairs to find Jungkook in the kitchen. He never considered himself a great chef, but the past couple of weeks forced him into learning a bunch of new recipes as he tried to make something his wife would eat with a little more joy. 

"You don't have to," he assured her, arm sliding around her waist as he pulled her to his chest — a small semblance of normalcy amidst everything. "Rest, I'll take care of it," he murmurs when pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She shook her head, "I want to." 

Slowly they found their way back to what had once been. The road was never straight, there were still days where all she wanted to do was lay in bed, still nights where she cried into the crook of his neck as he held her through the pain. But it was worth every rare smile and every soft chuckle under her breath when he said something stupid. 

She went back to work not long after — only for a few hours at first, then a full week, then another. Jungkook thought that this was their turning point, the future was looking bright again. But he quickly found that the reason for her newfound happiness hadn't come from his continuos support and efforts, at least not entirely. 

It started small at first, like all things dangerous do. He noticed the empty bottle in the bathroom cabinet, on a shelf too high for Rayne and Cassian to reach. "For the headaches," Yelena told him with a shrug. 

Jungkook knew it to be a lie, and yet, he didn't try to stop her. He believed that if it took away the darkness — then perhaps it was okay. It was just pain killers after all. But one bottle every two weeks quickly spiraled into one every couple of days. And the darkness she was chasing away was replaced with something much more grave. 

"Honey!" 

Yelena's voice alerted him from down the hall and Jungkook glanced up from the papers on his desk just in time to see her stepping through the door to his study. "Yes, my love?" he asked, already setting his work aside as he straightened up in his seat. 

She said nothing at first, regarding him with calculating eyes before frowning. "Have you seen my meds? I could've sworn I placed them on the top shelf in the—" 

"I threw them out." 

His response makes her tense, shoulders drawing up as her gaze snaps to him. "What?" she huffs, a hint of disbelief creeping into the word. She didn't believe him, that much was clear. Jungkook had never went against her wishes, he was always there at her every beck and call, he would never do anything to upset her, surely it had to be a misunderstanding. 

But Jungkook isn't backing down. He swallows when pushing himself to his feet, rounding the table separating them as he comes to a halt in front of her. "I said, I threw them out."

The crease between her brows deepens and she folds her arms across her chest. "Why would you do that? You know I need those for my headaches."

He can feel the muscles in his jaw clenching at the excuse. "It's getting out of hand, you and I both know it." 

Yelena actually looked taken aback by the sudden confrontation. It was unlike him to ever say or do something like that. But her initial shock is quickly replaced with something much more bitter. "I told you, I need them for my headaches," she continues to push the same narrative as before, jabbing an accusing finger to his chest, "You don't get to decide when I stop." 

If she'd been able to hide the tremor to her bottom lip, perhaps Jungkook would've let her storm out again. But he caught it, just like he did everything with Yelena. His fingers curled around her wrist and he tugged her to his chest in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm sorry," he'd whispered against the top of her head, "I just want you to be okay." 

She started crying then. Her tears were becoming all the more common but they still hurt him just as deep each and time. "I do too," she admitted against his shoulder, and for a second time, Jungkook had let himself believe that things were about to change for the better. 

Yelena stopped taking the pain medication but she never seemed to get better. There was always a grayish hue to her skin, the bags under her eyes didn't ease up and though she slept through the night for the most part, he knew that something was wrong. 

The children would jump into her lap — just as they always did — only for her to startle and scold them. Small, unnecessary things would bother her. The ticking of a clock, the crackle of their fireplace, even the sound of pages in a book being flipped. "Will you stop that!" she'd suddenly shout, and Jungkook would glance up from whatever he was doing with a frown. She always apologized on her next shaky exhale, but it didn't erase what had happened. 

He raided the bathroom cabinet, the bedside drawer, the closet — all in search of anything that could point to her strange behavior. Of course, he had his suspicions, it was impossible not to. He just didn't want to believe them, and without solid evidence they could not exist, until suddenly — they had. 

Jungkook knows that she probably hadn't expected him to still be in bed by the time she returned from her shower that Tuesday morning. But he had taken to working from home more than often as of late, to keep an eye on her, even though he'd never admit that out loud. 

So when she walked in, clad in only a towel, she hadn't thought to cover herself. "Morning," she'd chirped as she ran her fingers through her hair, pausing only when her husband's silence grew dreary. By the time she noticed where his gaze lingered, the damage had already been done. 

She tried to hide her arm, tucking it to her chest as she averted her gaze, "Baby I'm—" 

"Show me your arm." Jungkook shot out of bed without waiting for her to finish her sentence. His fingers close around her forearm as he pries it from her torso. Yelena protests, she yells for him to let go but he can't hear her, can't see her. All that exists are the puncture marks on her skin, the purple bruises that form around them, the evidence he'd been looking for without ever thinking he'd find. 

"What have you done?" His voice cracks on the last syllable, the brief anger slipping away just as quickly as it had come, replaced with dread, so much dread. 

Tears are streaming down her face but she says nothing as her arm goes lax in his hand. She cries silently for a minute and Jungkook doesn't take his eyes off the marks in the crease of her elbow, he doesn't touch them either — the thought makes him sick. 

Finally, she croaks out a quiet, "I had no other choice." 

"There's always a choice!" 

He doesn't mean to snap at her but he can't help himself. The fear is morphing into anger and Jungkook has no idea how to put a lid on it. "You can't just—" he barely registers the fact that he's crying too, the same salty tears sliding across his cheeks in messy streaks. 

Swallowing, he shakes his head, "Where are you getting this shit?" 

Yelena refuses to return his gaze and he knows that he will not get a response out of her. He glances down to where he's still gripping her arm, the way his fingers have sunk into her skin with such force that he wondered why she hadn't winced yet. He jerks his hand away, terrified of the emotions that were washing over him.

The words that wait on his tongue are not kind, so he shoves them back down his throat and heaves a breath. Then he turns away from her, focusing on the bed they'd been sleeping peacefully on just an hour prior. 

"Cover up," he says, "I don't want the children seeing that." 

Addiction was an infestation. What had started so small — so seemingly innocent — grew into a hungry monster. Yelena's addiction was tearing them all apart from the inside and out. It had festered itself to the walls, bleeding through the carpets and tainting their furniture with its poison. 

She looked like shit, perhaps even worse than she had the first few days after her parents death. It had been three weeks since she last went into work. Jungkook had been forced to maintain the employees salaries, trying to keep her business afloat as well as his own and the rest of his life. 

They talked less and less — and whenever they did it was brief. Yelena was in a foul mood almost every single day, and she took it out on those around her. 

He could no longer keep the children in the dark, least of all Rayne, who'd always been so perceptive for her age. She would peek around corners, listen in to conversations that should never have reached her ears. The worst part was that she didn't even have to try — Jungkook and her mother argued loud enough for the entire neighborhood to be shook on some days. 

"You're being selfish!" 

Yelena shot him a glare, "You have no idea what I'm going through!" Dinner was long forgotten about on the stove, the rice burnt to the pan, and the spatula used to stir it with, clutched in his wife's hand as she waves it aimlessly. 

"No. But I know what you're putting our children through, all your fucking shit is dragging them down with you!" He rarely cursed these days, but the conversations between him and the woman he loves were pulling out sides of him he thought to be only a distant memory. 

She pauses at that, spatula raised mid swing, like she'd actually meant to hit him. "I'm trying, okay? I'm—" shaking her head, she lowers her arm again. "You just keep pushing me. I need this shit to stay well. Can't you see what it fucking does to me when I don't have it?" 

Jungkook scoffs, "So that's it? Getting high is how you're going to deal with your family from now on?" He learned that Yelena had never actually processed the loss of her parents, never actually grieved them. Instead she'd turned to something that would take away the pain — not realizing it would steal everything else as well. 

"Why?!" she flings the spatula onto the counter, it slides across the marble top before falling to the floor with a clatter. Her eyes are livid with rage and confusion, "Why can't you just let me do this? Why do you have to take away the only thing that makes it better?" 

That stings, perhaps more than if she had actually struck him. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat. Right. The drugs were her salvation. Not her children. Not him. But the substance which she abused and tormented her body and mind with. Something inside of him snaps, and he surges forward as he grabs her shoulders with trembling hands. 

"Because I don't want to bury my own wife before she's even thirty!" He spits the words in her face, the horror of the very possible reality dawning on him in that exact moment. Yelena must come to the same realization for she's gone mute in front of him, barely fighting his tight grip on her. 

Then all of a sudden, there's a small creak in the distance — a floorboard being stepped on too heavy. Jungkook's head whips in the direction of the kitchen doorway just in time to see Rayne's shadow slipping away again. Her footsteps are quick and light when they climb the stairs, the click of her bedroom door echoes throughout the now silent house. He feels his heart drop. 

When Cassian asked if his mommy was dying — Jungkook hadn't known what to reply. It was right after his fourth birthday, which they had celebrated at home, with his own parents joining them. Yelena came downstairs when it was time to blow out the candles, though she never indulged in the cake Jungkook's mother had baked. And when they finished eating she returned back to their bedroom. 

For someone so young, it was hard to understand just what was happening. Part of him is relieved that his son has yet to know the full extent of what his mother was going through. The other scrambles to fill in the gaps for him. 

"Is she sick?" Cassian had asked when Jungkook tucked him into bed that night. 

He placed the covers all the way up to his chin, "Yes, she is."

The small boy frowned, tiny fingers fiddling with a lock of his hair — the same dark curls his mother had. "Go to hospital?" he then wonders, to which Jungkook shakes his head. 

"Your mom has a sickness that medicine can't cure." 

Cassian lies silently for a little while, the soft lamp of his bedside table basking him in yellow warmth. His eyes — big and round — finds his father's, "Can you?" 

Jungkook hesitates, his brows pinching together as he exhales through his nose. "I can try." 

He kissed his forehead and arranged the covers over him one last time, promising his son that he would do his best, even if it meant losing himself along the way. 

He'd tried to get Yelena into rehab, a place with people who understood her struggles and were going through the same thing. Only for a month, he told her, just to see if she could get help. But she wouldn't have it. And as an adult, she couldn't be admitted unless she chose so herself. He kept trying for another two weeks before abandoning the idea entirely. 

Summer of 86' was horrible, worse was September. Yelena was far too gone to even remember his birthday, Jungkook didn't feel like celebrating anyway. Though he did bring her a scarf for hers — hoping that the soft fabric would spark something inside of her. 

She barely glanced at it. 

For every day that passed Jungkook watched as his wife slowly deteriorated. He'd found a stash under the bed — full of the shit she'd inject herself with. He threw it away without batting an eye. When Yelena caught on she had walked out the door, and didn't return until the following evening — he never knew where she went and he never asked. He knows that he's better off in the dark. 

She was never happy, but she wasn't always sad. There was a small gray area where she'd actually initiate conversation like a normal person, where she'd seek out the children without Jungkook having to force her — on those days Jungkook was always filled with the embarrassment of hope. 

It never lasted and he realized how stupid he must be to cling on to something that had already been lost. 

He was watching her die. Each morning he would wake, not knowing if she was going to rise with him. At some point it became too much, and he began to sleep in the guest bedroom. She never commented on it, he figured she might not have cared at all. 

Sometimes he would stare into her eyes, the same beautiful brown eyes that he'd fallen in love with all those years ago by the water fountain — he doesn't recognize them anymore. And perhaps he's naive for clinging to the memory of what had once been, stupid to think that there might be a way for them to return to the way things were before — even though he knows they won't. 

Rayne and Cassian stopped asking for their mother eventually. They ate whatever food Jungkook cooked them, got ready for bed with his help and were tucked in and kissed goodnight by him as well. The room down the hall — their bedroom — remained silent, but everyone knew who lingered on the other side of the door. 

What had done him in in the end had not been her death — for Yelena was still alive — but the world she had built wasn't. September month was coming to an end, and just like he had for nearly a year now, Jungkook was rolling out the pay to those who still kept her clothing store up and running. 

Only, the checks were rejected again. Strange. There should be enough money within the business to keep it standing for another couple of years without his wife's guidance. Still, he had contacted the bank himself, just to make sure. "No sir," the man on the phone told him, "There are no finances left. We sent out a notice last month, has Mrs. Jeon not received it?" 

Jungkook didn't let him finish and he did not respond to the inquiry as he slammed the handset down hard enough to rattle the entire box. He leaned back in his seat, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes as he realized where that money had went. Then he did something he hadn't done in years. 

To his right, in the bottom drawer of the desk, was a pack he'd kept just in case. He never had any reason to reach for it, even when the sleepless nights and arguments with Yelena reached their peak. Today he finds that it's his only reprieve. So he picks up a cigarette and lights it. 

The smoke went down his throat like an old friend and Jungkook wondered why he hadn't caved sooner. He exhales, letting the cloud dissipate as he ponders his next move. There's this one thought that eats away at him. Call it paranoia but he can't seem to shake it. 

Shoving the cigarette between his lips, he makes another call, this one to the bank which held all of their funds. He remains calm when the lady on the other end of the line tells him that all accounts were intact — all but the one he'd set up for the children's future studies. He would add to it each month, making sure both Cassian and Rayne were set to enroll in whichever university they pleased when the time came. But that one had been emptied. Not taken from — but stripped bare of every last dime. 

He shared access to the fund with Yelena, and it didn't take a genius to figure out where she had placed the money that was promised to their children. 

Jungkook got off the phone, sat back in his seat and finished his cigarette. Then he had another one. He felt oddly at peace given what he'd just found out. In fact, he thinks this might be his biggest moment of clarity yet. 

Once he's finished his second smoke he files the clothing store for bankruptcy and walked out of the study. 

He finds Yelena in their bedroom, half passed out on top of the covers — just like usual. She doesn't look up when the door clicks shut behind him, not even when he comes to stand by the edge of the mattress, looming over her with eerie stillness. 

"You need to leave." 

Jungkook is surprised by how leveled he sounds when he says the words he never thought would leave his lips. She finally cracks a bloodshot eye open, brows furrowing together as she peers up at him. "What?" she huffs. 

But he's done. The children were at daycare and school, the house was empty and no one would hear his next statement, no one but her. "You need to leave. I don't want you here anymore." 

Yelena pushes herself up onto her elbows, "What are you talking about?" 

"The money." 

Her face pales, which shouldn't have been possible given how sick she already looked. "I know what you've done," he continues, "And if this is the path you've chosen for yourself then I can't stop you." He swallows, fingers curling into a loose fist by his side, "You've ruined my life. But I won't let you ruin our children's too." 

He prides himself on how calm he's able to remain, even as Yelena's expression flickers between at least ten different ones in the span of thirty seconds. After an entire minute she finally moves — right toward him. 

Jungkook barely has any time to react before her arms wrap around his neck, her open mouth finding his in a kiss that feels nothing but loving. "Baby," she sighs against his lips, "We can fix this." Her small pecks move to his jaw as she drags her tongue along his skin — it makes him sick. 

His hands clutch at her shirt as he hauls her off of him again. "What the fuck are you doing—?" he spits, the composure he'd built in his study vanishing in an instant as Yelena fights his grip in order to attach herself to him again. 

Tears drip down her cheeks, "Please, baby. I'll get better I promise. I love you, I love you so much." 

He tries to block the sound of her voice out, tries to not let those empty and hollow make belief words get to him. This wasn't his wife. The matted hair, the dull eyes and the dark circles beneath them. This wasn't his Yelena, he knows that now. 

"Leave." 

It takes everything in him to not bring her back in his arms, to pretend that everything was alright, just for today. But he keeps his chin high, even pointing toward the bedroom door as he fights the tremble in his hand. She follows his finger, the tears drying up instantly as reality settles in. 

"Fine," she snaps. Turning on her heel, she heads for the closet as she begin ripping clothes out — clothes she hasn't worn in months. She shoves them into a bag, grabbing along whatever necessities she found laying around. Bottles are scattered on top of the dresser, most of them are empty but she still rummages through the mess in search of something that holds what she wants. 

Jungkook watches it all with his heart shrinking in his chest. A small, naive and pathetic part of him had thought — hoped — that she would choose her children over this. That she would choose him, just like he had chosen her everyday for the past year. 

But Yelena is not looking back, her mind was made up. If she could not have both then she would settle for the poison. 

She walks through the door without telling him goodbye, her shoulder brushing past his with enough force to have him stumble on his feet. He peers down to the floor, clenching his jaw shut as he bites back the pleas waiting on his tongue. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Please stay." 

"You're right, we can fix this." 

The same lies he'd been letting her spoonfeed him for months now. He couldn't take it anymore. But listening to the heavy thuds of her descending the stairs angrily, the sound of shoes being yanked on with a stomp, or the front door as it slammed shut hard enough to loosen it off its hinges — it broke him. 

Jungkook stands in the middle of their bedroom in silence, gaze lingering on the mattress where she'd been laying not long ago. His knees hit the floor solemnly and he stares down at his empty palms. 

Then he cries. 

The house felt empty in the absence of Yelena, and Jungkook had a hard time figuring out if that was a good or a bad thing. He found himself listening for her more than often, each creak of a floorboard and every tap of the wind against the glass has him turning in its direction, only to be disappointed again. 

For the first week or so, the children stayed with his parents. Jungkook couldn't bear the thought of seeing anyone right now, least of all his own kids, who he would have to explain the situation to at some point. His mother said she didn't mind — she even had his old bedroom rearranged into a spare one for them. 

He hadn't heard from Yelena since she slammed the front door all those days ago. Those days turned into weeks, and as he filed the divorce papers two months later, he came to understand that he never would hear from her again. He did not have to fight her for custody, she didn't even turn up. 

During the time that followed, Jungkook moved on autopilot. Things he used to take joy in became just another chore on his list. He'd built his life around Yelena, his business, this house, their children — everything was branded in her name, one way or the other. So it was easier to just stop feeling all together. 

The more distance he managed to place between himself and the things that were destroying him, the more control he would get. Jungkook started following a strict schedule. If he numbered his days by the hour, then he would never have space to stop and think about the things that haunted him. 

He would get up at five, take a cold shower and have coffee. Crowd his brain with work inside his study. Then he would wake his children — get them ready for the day before dropping them off at school and daycare — then he drove himself to work until it was time to pick them up again. 

But even his children reminded him of what he'd lost within their mother. Jungkook hates himself for the way he looks at them, with such little warmth that he wonders if perhaps he'd made the wrong choice after all. 

Cassian was thankfully too young to understand. He would cry for his mother, Jungkook would call his own — and she would come over to comfort the young boy. If things were particularly rough both children would spend a couple of days at their grandparents, no one questioned why. 

Rayne was difficult. She lingered in his peripheral vision, watching him whenever she thought he wasn't looking. It annoyed him just as much as it pained him. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to see him like this, pathetically drowning in his own misery. He wants to apologize for the arguments she witnessed, wants to say something about Yelena to soother her — yet he does none of that. 

Because Jungkook was truly just a miserable piece of shit. 

So he doubles down on the strict schedule. Keeping both himself and the children busy so that he wouldn't have to address the things still left unsaid. He tries to keep up a front, especially around his eldest who always had her eyes on him — but he would slip up ever so often. 

Whenever he was lost in thought he would end up setting the table for four. And it wasn't until Rayne quietly pointed it out that he'd blink twice, sighing under his breath before grabbing the extra plate and returning it to the kitchen. Other times he forgot to cook and pack their lunch, Yelena usually did that. Rayne would be there to remind him again. 

After nearly eight months of struggling through the new routine, the house had settled into something akin to peace. It wasn't real, not even close — in fact it was more like play pretend. And though it was fragile, it was still better than things had ever been when their mother was still around. 

Jungkook went back to working his usual ten hours — returning to the office was a lot harder than he'd thought. No one had missed the ugly fall out between him and his wife. If his nearly year-long absence wasn't enough proof, then the missing ring on his finger surely got their gears turning. 

He did his best to ignore them for the most part. His employees knew better than to come to him with their concerns, lest they wanted to keep their job. Still, a few here and there came up to let him know how sorry they were. The rumors of his ex-wife's substance abuse were not new, but they'd resurfaced as Jungkook made his appearance after some time away. 

Things settled down a couple of days later, mostly because he kept glaring at whoever dared glance in his direction for longer than a heartbeat. Once the initial wave had passed, Jungkook actually found solace in spending time at the office. While the place was still tainted with the essence of Yelena, it was nowhere near as bad as the state of his home. 

In order to spend more time behind his desk, he began to ponder on a solution regarding his children. He was hardly a present figure in their life at the moment, so he thought that introducing someone else to watch over them while he buried himself beneath paperwork, wasn't such a bad idea. 

The first advertisement that expressed his need for a nanny went up that following afternoon. Jungkook wasn't picky. All he needed was someone who could follow the schedule his children had become accustomed to, preferably a decent cook but he didn't bother adding the detail. 

And no high school graduates. Yelena would've called him ridiculous, but Jungkook doesn't care. He remembers far too well the kind of person he'd been barely a decade ago, a nuisance to his parents and whoever crossed paths with him. It was the last kind of influence he'd want near his own children. 

He had very little luck in the beginning. Most of them were women in their mid twenties, though some had been even older and in need of another income — not that it ever mattered when they all went out the same way. No one managed to stick to the routines for longer than a day or so. Some of them even made comments on his children's "abnormal behavior" to which Jungkook fired them accordingly. 

Getting new candidates wasn't the issue — he offered enough by the hour to attract new applications every other day. No, the real issue was getting them to actually stay. 

So when the sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the house on that October morning, Jungkook had went downstairs just as usual. The children didn't even bother peeking out of their rooms anymore, they were used to meeting new faces by this point. 

He opened the door just like he always would, careful not to let his prejudice show in front of the newest hire. You were unlike the others. Not as put-together, he noticed the worn out edges of your coat, the poor state of your shoes, it almost made him raise a brow, though he caught himself just in time. Strangely enough, you reminded him of someone he'd known long ago. 

Then you opened your mouth to speak and his heart stuttered in his chest. "Hello, I'm here for the—," Your voice… God, Jungkook hadn't heard a voice so bright in ages.

He inhaled, cutting you off mid sentence. "You're the nanny," he says, and you nod, seemingly unbothered by his lack of manners. It makes him frown. Perhaps you'd actually make it through your first week. 

If you, or anyone you know, is struggling with addiction don't hesitate to reach out for help. Emergency Numbers (UK, U.S, South Africa, New Zealand, Philippines, Ireland, Australia, Canada & India). More Emergency Numbers. No battle is meant to be fought alone, you matter <3

── [ ✉️ ] God, hello. This is going to be a long one, don't even know if anyone will be reading this but I must get my thoughts out nonetheless. This chapter was so important for me to write. Not only does it provide answers to a lot of the questions we've had throughout the story, but it is especially important for Jungkook's character. I'm sure you noticed that I focused more on some parts than others. I focused mainly on the things that altered Jungkook's character in a way that's relevant to the story (such as him getting rejected by the investors, slowly building his career, the tone shift in him as a person throughout the entire chapter). He is the centrepoint for this chapter and while Yelena is important, how he perceives things and how they make him feel was my main goal with this. If I managed to do this correctly, then you will understand how Jungkook came to be the person he is present time. This was all about getting close and vulnerable with him in a way we never have before, I really hope that shows. The chapter also touched on a lot of triggering topics, I've tried to portray them with as much respect as I can whilst still indulging for the sake of the story to feel immersive and gripping. Okay, I'll surely ramble if you ladies come to me in my inbox with thoughts/feelings. I hope that not too many tears were shed, I'll give you a hug and lend a tissue if they were. I love you all so so much, please stay safe and take care of yourselves <3

© All rights reserved @merakoo 2026.

[femme11fatale]

L U C K Y

summary | One Madrid evening with Jeon Jungkook...  pairing | idolboyfriend!jungkook x f!reader elements | shirtless Jungkook; Madrid evenings; Arirang tour; soft; established relationship  word count | 2.7k author's note | Going back to the delicious shirtless JK in Madrid for this short one, I finally found the energy for editing so here we are. Seeing him in those photos was such an inspiration —wasn’t he hot AF— and I loved the idea of this summer evening vibe. As ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked, and I hope you enjoy this one!  •𓂃𝜗𝜚 bts masterlists ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ ) ( ❛ bts taglist ❜ ) ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃 jungkook masterlists | p a r t • o n e | p a r t • t w o

By the time you get back to the apartment, Madrid is still holding onto the day's heat.

It lingers in the stone stairwell, in the brass handrail touched by a hundred hands, and in the rented apartment itself despite every window being thrown open. The ceiling fan pushes the air around more out of politeness than effectiveness, a necessity now that the AC had decided to stall since yesterday. 

Jungkook drops his key onto the little ceramic dish by the door and disappears down the hallway without a word. You toe your sandals off. There's a faint ringing in your ears from the earlier soundcheck. Not unpleasant, but just the residue of bass vibrating through your ribs for the better part of an afternoon.

A minute later, you hear the bathroom tap running. You occupy yourself with some mindless channel flicking and an ice lolly. The heat in Europe was incredible. 

"Hey, baby?” Jungkook calls from inside a short while after. “Can you grab me a towel please?"

You pull one from the rack outside the bathroom before nudging the door open with your shoulder. He takes it with a distracted thanks, already rubbing it through his hair.

"One more down,” you say. “You survived the heat." 

"Barely."

"You looked pretty alive out there."

"Trust me, I wasn't by the end,” he laughs quietly, drying at the back of his neck. "This sun is something else."

You think about the stadium, rows upon rows of empty seats waiting to be filled tomorrow, and the white stage reflecting every bit of afternoon light. The crew darting around with clipboards while Jungkook wandered across the platform in black cargo pants and absolutely nothing else, lifting bottles of water from coolers, chatting with the dancers, gesturing to the enthusiastic crowd gathered around the platforms, stretching between songs as though sixty thousand plus people weren't about to lose their minds over rehearsal footage.

He hadn't seemed aware of it, or maybe he'd simply learned there was no point thinking about it. It was hot, so he had opted not to wear a shirt. End of story.

He emerges from the bathroom still towelling his hair. You catch sight of him the moment he walks into the room, and your breath hitches before you can pretend it doesn't. He’s shirtless, fresh from the shower, droplets of water still tracing lazy paths down his skin. His dark hair is slightly damp, falling across his forehead in a way that makes him look effortlessly handsome. Every movement is relaxed, almost unaware of the effect he has on you.

Your eyes wander before you can stop them.

His shoulders are broad, his arms toned from countless hours of training, and the definition across his chest and stomach catches the light with every step he takes. It's not just that he's fit, it's the quiet confidence he carries without trying. The tattoos winding down his arm only make him more captivating, each one feeling like another piece of the man you've come to know.

You smile to yourself because he's still the same person who laughs so cutely at his own jokes, steals bites from your plate, and reaches for your hand protectively without thinking.

He notices you staring and a slow, teasing grin spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "What?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

You shake your head, trying to play it off, but your flushing cheeks betray you. "Nothing."

He raises an eyebrow, taking another step closer until he's standing right in front of you, treating your nose to the woodsy scent of his shampoo mixing with the scent of him. "Nothing?" he repeats, clearly unconvinced.

You can't help but laugh. "Stop it."

"You don’t want that really," he says with a smug little smile. “I can tell.”

He's right of course. 

You roll your eyes, but your gaze drifts back to him anyway. Not because he's topless, or because anyone would agree he's incredibly attractive, but because he's your boyfriend, the person who can make your heart race with nothing more than a doe-eyed smile.

You reach out, resting a hand lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He immediately covers your hand with his own, his expression softening into something tender and affectionate. For a moment, the teasing disappears. It's just the two of you, standing close enough that everything else fades into the background.

You smile up at him, still wondering how you had gotten lucky enough to call him yours. And then you notice it, his skin slightly pink across the tops of his shoulders. You frown. "You might have caught just a bit too much sun."

"Hm?"

"Turn around,” you instruct, making twirling motions with your hand. 

He does without asking why. You disappear into your overnight bag and find the bottle of aloe gel some sixth sense had insisted on packing.

"You packed that?"

"I've met you."

Jungkook huffs, almost childlike. "You make me sound so predictable."

He could be so endearing, but you force yourself to remain resolute. He already got away with too much with those big, round eyes that widen at you so innocently. "You wore sunscreen on your face and nowhere else,” you chide softly. “Didn’t you see the ferocity of that huge, bright thing in the sky?”

He chuckles sheepishly. "Uh... I thought about it, but the staff didn’t bring it up, so I guess I forgot about it. Sorry."

You tut mildly. "Thinking about something isn't the same thing as doing it, Koo,” you say. “You can’t rely on the staff for every little thing. They’re dealing with seven of you all at once you know. Sunscreen isn’t optional, it’s a necessity.”

He huffs a laugh. "I know, I know,” he says. “I got it.”

He earns a side eye for that. 

“But I did have a jacket,” he protests, unable to let it drop. 

“Fat lot of good that did,” you quip. “You might as well have gone without for all the protection that gave you.”

You squeeze cool gel into your palm. Jungkook flinches the second it touches his shoulders. "That's freezing!” he complains, pulling back and scrunching up his face. 

"I'll remember to heat it for you over an open flame next time,” you retort unsympathetically. 

He does look super cute though. 

"I’d appreciate it,” he plays along, equally unfazed. 

"Koo—," you warn seriously. “You’ll burn if I don’t do this, and whose fault will that be?”

"Okay, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice softer now. “I’ll keep still. Go on.”

He stands there while you spread the gel carefully across the tops of his shoulders, over the place where the straps of a backpack would sit if he'd been carrying one. He smells faintly of clean soap now, underneath the salt left from the afternoon.

"You missed a bit,” he grins. 

"You say that very confidently,” you smile back sweetly. “—For someone who forgets to put on sunscreen in over ninety degrees.”

He nods solemnly, accepting the verdict. “Yeah…”

You laugh. He’s adorable when he actually loses out to you, his pierced lips pouting alluringly. You wonder for the millionth time if he knew just how sexy he was. 

"There,” you announce, rubbing in the last of the lotion into him. “All done.”

Jungkook rolls one shoulder experimentally. "That’s better."

"You'll thank me tomorrow."

He wanders into the kitchen while you screw the lid back onto the bottle. You hear the fridge open then close, then open again. 

"What are you looking for?" you ask curiously, sauntering towards the sounds. No day was complete without Jungkook having at least five different fridge raids at various points. It bordered on comical sometimes. 

"I don't know yet."

"That’s helpful."

"I'll know when I see it."

You find Jungkook staring into the shelves with complete concentration, one hand braced against the fridge door, his muscular arm on show. You resist the urge to go over and run your hand along it. 

"You've got fruit,” he announces. 

"Yes, you know how much I love my fruit,” you reply. 

"And iced tea."

"Mmhmm."

"Water."

"Are you going to give me a full inventory of the fridge, Koo?”

He considers this a moment before finally responding. "Not exactly. I'm just trying to decide,” he states. “But I haven’t reached a conclusion yet.”

You lean against the doorway, watching him in fascination. "I think rehearsals have melted your brain."

"They definitely melted something,” he mutters, eventually emerging holding a peach. "The winner."

"Strong choice."

"I've been thinking about it since lunch."

"You've been thinking about peaches for four hours?" you echo in disbelief. 

Jungkook shrugs. "You know what it’s like when I want something. I commit."

He rinses it under the tap before taking a bite. Juice immediately runs down his thumb, and you contemplate rushing over and sucking it off his skin. Instead, you efficiently tear off and hold out a paper towel to him. 

He takes it without looking. "Thanks."

"You would've wiped that on your trousers."

He laughs. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

You shoot him a look. 

The sun has begun slipping lower by the time you carry two glasses of chilled water out onto the balcony. Compared to the fast-paced bustle of the day, things seem different now, far less hurried and tranquil. People are appearing at café tables that had sat empty through the hottest part of the afternoon, the light summer evening breeze welcoming as music crackles from an apartment across the street.

Jungkook settles into the chair opposite yours but then seems to decide that chairs aren’t for him. Deftly, he slides onto the tiled floor instead, back against the wall, one knee bent as he messes his hair boyishly with one inked hand. You swallow, heat rising in you. Why did he have the ability to make everything look so illegally, sizzling hot. 

"You know," he says after a while, "I think I like this city most around now."

A couple walks slowly below, sharing a paper bag of cherries, and someone whistles for a dog. “I think I know what you mean,” you agree, looking over at him. 

He looks so pensive and there’s a calmness that stretches over his handsome features that are painted golden by the last rays of the setting sun. He looks stunning. 

You sigh. "You don't get evenings like this at home very often.” 

"No."

He watches a flock of birds wheel between rooftops. "I forget people can just be sometimes."

You smile into your glass. “Sometimes.”

“I was thinking—,” he begins. 

“Oh no,” you interject quicky. “Anytime you start a sentence with that, I somehow end up on trips that involve multiple shopping bags."

"I bought one cookbook."

"You bought four."

"There were recipes!” he exclaims. “I needed them.”

"They were in Spanish, Koo."

"I like a challenge,” he grins, tipping his head back against the wall.

"I knew there was a reason that I needed to pack an extra suitcase,” you state. 

"Did I ever tell you how brilliant you are?”

You shake your head. "I just had a feeling."

The breeze catches his hair, which is drying fast. Without the stage lights, in-ear monitors and microphones, Jungkook looks younger somehow, carefree. Less like the person the stadium had watched this afternoon and more like the one who insists on buying chocolate bars because they’re ‘so yummy’. 

You reach over to brush away a tiny feather that sits on his shoulder. It must have drifted onto him without either of you noticing.

He glances up. "What was it?"

"You were under attack,” you say, holding the feather up between two fingers.

He grins like a little bunny and your heart flutters. "My bodyguard."

“Of course,” you say, blowing him an air kiss and watching as he blushes. "You know you walked across an entire stadium barefoot today?”

"The floor was clean."

"You also stole three electrolyte drinks."

He pulls a face. "I don't think 'stole' is fair."

“They were Seokjin’s! Can’t you just own it?” you say. “I saw you. So did Jimin. He’s just too nice to say anything.”

“Alright, I may have borrowed one or two. I was thirsty and mine were warm.”

You laugh hard enough that your water almost spills. “Borrowed?” you guffaw. “Where do you come up with this stuff?” 

"I’ve been waiting to hear you laugh all day,” he says softly, throwing you entirely.

"Were you?" you ask, surprised. 

“Yeah, I was,” he replies. “I know it’s not easy being dragged around in all this.”

“As long as I’m with you, I’ll be fine,” you tell him, suddenly sober. 

He reaches out, almost absent-mindedly, and hooks two fingers around your wrist. Your chair is too far away, and you slide down onto the floor beside him instead, nestling in automatically towards his body. Neither of you says anything, listening to the sounds of a guitar that drifts in and out with the breeze as a church bell marks the hour. 

Jungkook turns to you. "I'm glad you came,” he says gently. “I know that sounds obvious and probably corny.”

You blink. "No, it doesn't."

"I just—" He searches for the right words. "Some places are nicer when someone else remembers them too."

You look out across the city glowing amber in the last of the sun. "I'll remember."

His thumb brushes lightly against your skin, causing a delicious shiver to run up your spine. Then he leans in and his lips meet yours for a moment, warm and tender and full of love. "Tomorrow's going to be loud," he murmurs. "I'm borrowing five quiet minutes now."

You smile. "I think you've had more than five."

Jungkook glances at the fading sky. "You're right,” he concedes. “But I might need another five.”

You laugh softly. "Greedy."

"Maybe a little."

“Hey, Koo—” you whisper, your hand travelling across the expanse of his lean, muscular torso, loving the smooth heated feel of his skin beneath your fingertips. He’s so fine. “You know everyone’s gonna be going crazy, right?”

He chuckles lightly. “Probably,” he says. “It still takes some getting used to.”

“It’ll be worse this time,” you tell him. “You were shirtless.”

He stills for a beat, gathering you closer and placing a kiss at your crown. “Does it bother you?”

You shake your head. “No, not really,” you reply. “I know what it is you do.”

“Really?” He sounds slightly disappointed and you look up at him questioningly. “What?” he says defensively. “Can’t I be a bit gutted my girl isn’t jealous about other people staring at my body?”

You smile. “But it’s me who gets to touch it, Koo, right?” you say knowingly, your hand going lower to caress over his bare abdomen. “—Every. Single. Night.”

He grins back. “And day,” he adds huskily. 

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth this time, softer than before. Then your forehead, and then your temple. Each kiss is slow and unhurried, like he's collecting moments instead of spending them. 

Meanwhile, the sun dips lower and shadows stretch across the skyline as you rest your head against his shoulder. His arm settles naturally around your waist, words becoming unnecessary as the evening folds around the two of you. 

“I mean it, Y/N,” Jungkook says, voice laden with sincerity. “I am glad you came. There’s nobody else I want beside me more.”

You feel so fully content as Madrid slowly trades sunlight for the first glow of its streetlamps, the warmth of Jungkook’s body beside you as you feel his kisses on your brow. 

“I love you,” he whispers by your ear. “Home, here, anywhere and always.”

You look into his eyes and smile. “Same.”

thanks for reading ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

[ggukiebar]

gun play | j.jk

pairing: police officer jungkook x thief reader

word count: 16.9k

genre: dark smut

summary: trying to steal the gold necklace around his neck, you didn’t realize that the man you were stealing from was a high-ranking police officer.

warnings: officer jungkook x thief reader, explicit sexual content, dead dove, cnc/dub-con, gun play, belt choking, usage of handcuffs, primal play, free use/rape, public sex, heavy degradation, manhandling, daddy, dom jk, clit rubbing, spitting, mock sympathy, condescending dirty talk, cum eating, pussy eating, blow job, usage whore & slut, praising, multiple orgasms, manipulation, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, cum eating penetrative sex, creampie.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

"Let's check out the beer house tonight." Hanni said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "I heard it's packed with rich people on Fridays."

Your brows knitted together. "A beer house?"

A knowing smirk tugged at Hanni's lips. She swept her dark hair into a messy bun before pulling out the chair beside the table, giving the seat a light tap as she gestured for you to sit.

The moment you settled across from her, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned in…There was a familiar gleam in her eyes—the kind that only appeared whenever she had a new scheme brewing. 

"It's one of the most popular beer houses in the city," she explained. "The drinks alone cost more than what we spend on groceries in a week. People who go there don't think twice before throwing money around, which means they're exactly the kind of people we're looking for."

You couldn't help but picture it.

Crowded tables, loud music and half-empty bottles scattered across polished wooden counters. Men laughing far too loudly, their faces flushed from alcohol, expensive watches gleaming beneath the dim lights while thick leather wallets bulged inside the pockets of tailored trousers.

You frowned, unease settling in your chest.

"I'm pretty sure it'll be full of drunk old men, Hanni." you rested your chin against your palm. “Doesn't that sound a little... dangerous?”

Hanni dismissed the concern with a careless wave of her hand.

"They'll be too wasted to notice us," she said with a shrug. "Besides, those are the guys with money. A few missing bills won't even cross their minds."

She leaned even closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal the greatest secret in the world.

"Just give them a sweet smile," she said, the corners of her lips curling into something dangerously playful. "Make them think you've taken an interest in them. Laugh at their terrible jokes, let them believe they're charming..." 

She snapped her fingers between the two of you. "And before they even realize what's happening, you've already walked away with their wallet—or better yet, their credit cards."

A life built on stolen fortunes, calculated manipulation, and carefully crafted deception.

The words no longer sting the way they used to. They've become as familiar as your own name, each one another thread woven into the person you've become. What once filled you with guilt now slips through your fingers as though it was never yours to carry.

Perhaps that's what desperation does.

It doesn't ask you to become someone else. It simply teaches you how to live with the stranger you've become.

Earlier that evening, you and Hanni gathered everything you had stolen throughout the month, laying each piece across the small wooden table between you.

"We only gathered six hundred dollars this month, Y/N... This won't be enough."

A phone, a handful of jewelry, two wallets, and a watch clattered against the worn wood before settling into a messy pile.

"This won't cover this month's rent..." she let out a weary sigh, her manicured nails tapping absentmindedly against the tabletop as she stared at the stolen valuables and the few crumpled bills scattered between them. "And we still have enrollment next month."

Your lips fell into a pout. "But the jewelry I stole is real gold."

You reached for the bracelet, turning it beneath the light. The polished links gleamed against your fingers.

Hanni only sighed again, the exhaustion in her expression deepening.

"It's low-karat gold, Y/N. And there's barely enough of it to be worth anything." she rubbed her temple before glancing at the rest of the pile. "If you manage to steal more next time, maybe we'll actually get something decent for it."

You looked back down at the bracelet, the weight of her words settling heavier than the gold resting in your palm.

You weren't born into wealth…from kindergarten until the day you graduated high school, scholarships carried you through your education. Without them, you doubted you would've made it that far. 

College was different.

Moving out had seemed like the responsible decision at the time. Renting a small apartment near the university was cheaper than spending money on transportation every day between your hometown and campus, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for more than they were already giving. 

So you packed your clothes into two worn-out bags, hugged your mother goodbye, listened to your father's endless reminders to eat properly, and promised them you would be fine.

Your father spent his days baking homemade bread before the sun had fully risen, while your mother worked quietly as a bookkeeper, carefully balancing numbers that never seemed to balance in your own household. Together, they earned just enough to keep food on the table and a roof over your heads.

Needs always came first.

Wants became something you learned to admire from a distance.

Yet, strangely enough, you never felt deprived.

Your home was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knew everybody, but it was always filled with warmth. 

While your classmates spoke about family vacations abroad, arrived at school carrying luxury handbags, and replaced perfectly good shoes simply because a newer pair had been released, you found comfort in simpler things. 

The smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the kitchen before sunrise. The sound of your father humming while kneading dough. Your mother's gentle voice reminding you not to skip breakfast, even when she knew you were running late.

You loved that life.

More importantly, you loved the people who gave it to you.

Which was why, when college came, you couldn't bear the thought of asking them for more. Every dollar they handed you felt heavier than the last, weighted by sacrifices they never spoke about but could never hide. 

You watched your father work longer hours. You noticed your mother's tired eyes after another day spent staring at ledgers and receipts. They never complained…not once—but love has a way of revealing exhaustion long before words ever do.

So you promised yourself that you would become lighter.

You moved out. You searched for part-time jobs. You told yourself that no matter how difficult life became, you would survive without asking your parents to carry you any farther.

You really believed honest work would be enough.

Finding a cheap apartment hadn't been easy, and if there was one stroke of luck you could still thank the universe for, it was meeting Hanni.

You found her through a post looking for a roommate. She needed someone to split the rent, and you needed somewhere you could actually afford. 

The apartment sat only a few minutes away from the university, saving you the transportation costs you had spent countless nights calculating over and over again.

Hanni turned out to be easier to live with than you expected. She wasn't the type to spend recklessly or chase after things she didn't need. Like you, she stretched every dollar until there was nothing left to stretch. 

For the first few months, you lived off your savings.

Each rent payment made the envelope thinner. Each grocery trip reminded you that numbers disappeared far quicker than they were earned. You searched for work every chance you got, walking into cafés, convenience stores, restaurants—any place with a "Now Hiring" sign taped to the window.

When a fast-food restaurant finally hired you as a server, you thought things were finally looking up.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been so relieved. The excitement, however, didn't last very long.

The paycheck barely reached your hands before it already belonged somewhere else. Half disappeared into rent. Another portion went to groceries, transportation, and the endless expenses college quietly demanded. 

Scholarships covered your tuition, but not everything else. There were laboratory fees, books that professors insisted were mandatory, printed materials, projects, uniforms, and countless little payments that no one ever warned you about.

The money came in. It left even faster.

And no matter how carefully you budgeted every cent, by the end of each month, you always found yourself staring at the same conclusion.

It still wasn't enough.

Hanni, however, never seemed to struggle the way you did.

For reasons she never fully explained, she always had money tucked away somewhere. Not enough to live lavishly, but enough to ease the constant pressure that settled on your shoulders every time rent was due. 

Naturally, you asked where all that money came from. Hanni would only shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as though the answer amused her.

"I have a lot of sidelines," she'd say, never bothering to explain any further. 

It was vague enough to end the conversation, yet suspicious enough to keep your curiosity alive.

Eventually, you stopped asking…but you never stopped noticing. 

One afternoon she'd come home carrying the newest phone model, casually placing it on the kitchen counter while she searched the refrigerator for something to eat. 

The following day, it would already be gone. 

Sometimes it was a watch. Other times it was a gold necklace or a designer wallet. The items constantly changed, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared, but you never questioned her. 

It wasn't until the two of you had grown close enough that she finally trusted you with the truth. 

You remembered expecting disgust to settle in your stomach the moment she confessed. Instead, all you felt was curiosity. 

Hanni told her story so casually, as though she were recalling an ordinary childhood memory instead of admitting to a crime.

She learned how to steal when she was still a little girl. Whenever she picked up a toy at a store or tore open a packet of snacks while trailing beside her mother, no one questioned her. People rarely suspected children, and Hanni learned that long before she understood the weight of what she was doing.

What started as childish curiosity slowly became instinct. Instinct became skill, skill became confidence, and confidence eventually became survival. 

By the time she reached adulthood, stealing was no longer something she occasionally did—it was simply how she made a living. 

She wasn't born into comfort either. Her family had struggled just as much as yours, if not more, and perhaps that was why you found it difficult to judge her. 

You knew what it felt like to lie awake at night wondering how another month would pass. 

You knew what desperation looked like because you had seen it reflected in your parents' exhausted smiles, hidden behind reassuring words they never truly meant. Maybe that was why her confession never horrified you.

Desperation has a peculiar way of changing people.

Because somewhere deep inside, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you understood exactly why she had chosen this path.

"You should blend in. Don't wear those ridiculous jackets or black caps." Hanni chuckled, uncapping the marker in her hand before turning to the small whiteboard hanging beside the refrigerator. 

She drew little stick figures and arrows as if she were giving a university lecture instead of teaching you how to commit crimes. There were circles around the words confidence, timing, and exit, each one underlined twice before she tapped the marker against the board. 

It sounded embarrassingly simple…but it wasn’t.

Your first theft had been nothing more than a granola bar from a convenience store, yet your hands had trembled so violently you almost dropped it before reaching the exit. Your heart pounded against your ribs with enough force to convince you everyone around could hear it.

Every customer who glanced in your direction felt like security in disguise, every beep from the cashier sounded like an alarm, and by the time the automatic doors slid open behind you, your palms were slick with sweat around the tiny snack bar you had risked so much to steal.

Hanni, meanwhile…walked out carrying a bottle of wine, two bags of cheetos, and three packs of mini m&m's tucked somewhere beneath her oversized cardigan. She looked utterly unbothered, stopping only to ask whether you wanted to eat at the nearby park before either of you went home. 

You remembered staring at her with your mouth slightly open, unable to understand how someone could steal so much and still have the composure to worry about dinner.

She only laughed. "It gets easier."

You hated how right she was.

Over the following weeks, your trembling hands gradually learned to stay still. You learned that people rarely questioned someone who acted like they belonged. 

Confidence, Hanni often said, was the greatest disguise anyone could wear, and manipulation was nothing more than convincing people to believe the version of you that benefited them most. 

You practiced smiling at strangers. You practiced maintaining eye contact. You practiced walking away without looking back.

Little by little, it became easier to silence the guilt.

Two months later, you could finally say you were improving. Your movements were steadier, your excuses more believable, your lies smoother than they had ever been before. 

Even so, whenever you compared yourself to Hanni, you still felt like an amateur watching a professional at work. She stole with an ease you doubted you would ever possess.

"Hanni, I'm not good at seducing people... you know that." you let out a groan, dropping your forehead onto the table with a dull thud. 

For all the confidence you had slowly learned to fake while stealing, anything involving men was an entirely different story. 

You have no experience.

Your thefts still involved people, but you always kept your distance…especially from men. You waited for moments of carelessness, slipping valuables from unattended bags, distracted shoppers, or pockets left carelessly exposed before disappearing into the crowd.

It was safer that way. The rewards were smaller, perhaps, but it meant you never had to charm, distract, or make someone lower their guard just to steal from them.

After all, you were still an amateur.

Romance had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford. 

While your classmates spent their weekends going on dates or gossiping about their newest crushes, you spent yours calculating expenses and wondering whether instant noodles could count as dinner for the fourth night in a row.

Hanni had pointed it out countless times before.

According to her, manipulating people wasn't always about lying. 

With men, it was about making them believe they had a chance with you. 

The problem was…you had no idea how to do that. 

You didn't know how to flirt, how to bat your eyelashes, or how to laugh at someone's terrible jokes without making it painfully obvious you were pretending. The thought alone made your stomach twist into nervous knots.

Hanni rolled her eyes, dismissing every excuse before you even had the chance to finish making one.

"Oh, stop it." she waved a hand dramatically. "You're very pretty, Y/N. Don't give me that bullshit! Just smile at them…one cute little smile and I guarantee they'll be tripping over themselves to impress you."

You buried your face deeper into your arms."But, Hanni—"

"No buts." she sprang to her feet before you could protest again, practically skipping toward her bedroom. A moment later, she returned with two shopping bags swinging from her hands, the grin on her face growing impossibly wider.

"Besides, I already bought us dresses for tonight." she giggled.

Oh, you were doomed.

"This is so short," you complained, tugging at the hem of the black spaghetti-strap dress for what had to be the tenth time. Every time you managed to pull it down another inch, it simply rode back up the moment you took another step, as though the fabric itself was determined to embarrass you.

Hanni had insisted on doing everything herself. Your hair fell in loose, natural waves over your shoulders, soft enough to hide the nervous rise and fall of your breathing. She had done your makeup too, dusting the slightest touch of glitter across your eyelids that shimmered every time the streetlights caught your face. 

Even before you reached your destination, your feet were already protesting against the thin, strappy heels wrapped around your ankles, each step reminding you that beauty demanded sacrifices you had never volunteered to make.

Hanni glanced at you before letting out an amused laugh. "I can't see your panties from here, so you're fine."

You shot her an unamused look, earning another laugh from her.

Unlike you, Hanni looked completely at ease. 

Her dark green off-the-shoulder dress hugged her figure effortlessly, paired with matching heels that clicked confidently against the pavement. Her hair was swept into a messy updo that somehow looked intentionally elegant rather than rushed, and with the confidence she carried herself, no one would ever guess that the two of you struggled to pay rent every month.

Together, you looked exactly like the kind of girls who had never worried about money a day in their lives.

Which was almost funny.

Because hidden beneath expensive-looking dresses and carefully applied makeup were two women desperately hoping to walk away with someone else's wallet, watch, jewelry—or anything valuable enough to buy another month of survival.

"Okay, let's order a drink first and look around," Hanni said, her voice barely audible beneath the chatter spilling out from inside the beer house as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

You followed closely behind, your heartbeat already beginning to pick up.

You had spent the entire walk convincing yourself that the place would be filled with loud, drunken old men slumped over tables, too intoxicated to notice a missing wallet or an expensive watch. Instead, your expectations dissolved the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim amber lights.

The place was crowded…not just with old men, but with all kinds of people. Groups of friends occupied long wooden tables, raising glasses every time the football match playing on the massive television reached an exciting moment. Couples sat tucked away in quieter corners, talking over bottles of beer, while businessmen who looked as though they had come straight from the office loosened their ties and laughed with colleagues over overflowing pitchers.

Your gaze drifted toward the long wooden bar stretching across one side of the room, shelves behind it neatly lined with bottles you had only ever seen locked behind glass displays. The smell of grilled meat and fried food lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter scent of beer, while a small band adjusted their instruments on the stage, preparing for the night ahead.

You quietly took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter building inside your chest. 

You had been stealing for two months now, yet every new place made you feel like it was your first all over again. The fear of getting caught never truly disappeared—it only learned how to hide beneath your smile.

Hanni walked through the crowd without a hint of hesitation, weaving between tables before claiming two empty seats near the stage. When the server approached, she greeted him with an easy smile, the kind that belonged to someone who had come for nothing more than a quiet drink after a long week.

"Two draft beers, please."

The server nodded before disappearing toward the counter.

Hanni waited until he was out of earshot before her eyes swept across the room once more, lingering only for a second before the corner of her lips slowly lifted.

"I found your table." Hanni raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile.

You pouted, instinctively following her gaze as your eyes wandered across the crowded beer house. Round wooden tables filled nearly every corner, occupied by groups of men laughing over clinking bottles, scattered glasses, and the remnants of another round.

Of course she'd choose men. You had long grown used to Hanni's reasoning.

Men were easier to distract…and according to her, far easier to manipulate than women.

"Which one?" you asked, squinting as you searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Hanni let out a quiet laugh before leaning closer, her perfume briefly overpowering the scent of beer lingering in the air. "The third table near the bar," she whispered, careful not to draw attention. "They look a little older than us. Not too old, though." 

She grinned mischievously. "I'd say they're giving daddy vibes."

You frowned at her. “Ugh, Hanni!”

Slowly, your gaze followed the direction she had subtly pointed, finally landing on the group she had been watching.

There were seven of them gathered around one of the larger tables, completely absorbed in their own conversation. They couldn't have been much older than Hanni had guessed, perhaps somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. 

Dressed in simple shirts, rugged jeans, and jackets carelessly draped over the backs of their chairs, they looked more like friends unwinding after a long week than the wealthy businessmen you had imagined on your walk there.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Yet the longer you watched, the easier it became to notice the details.

A watch that caught the light every time one of them lifted his beer. A phone left face-up beside an overflowing ashtray without a second thought. Car keys, wallets, and cigarette packs lay scattered across the wooden table between bottles of beer and half-finished baskets of bar snacks, abandoned in the comfort of good company.

They laughed loudly, occasionally teasing one another, while wisps of cigarette smoke curled lazily into the air above them. They were so engrossed in their own little world that they never once looked your way.

"What do you think?" Hanni asked, her eyes never leaving the group near the bar."I say you target that table while I take the one near the door."

Your gaze lingered on the men for another moment before dropping to the table between you. Almost as if on cue, the server returned with your drinks, carefully placing two glasses of draft beer in front of you. Tiny bubbles rushed to the surface beneath a thick layer of foam, the chilled glass immediately collecting beads of condensation.

Hanni thanked him with a smile before wrapping her fingers around her glass. She looked... excited. There was always a certain spark in her eyes before a job, one you had grown familiar with over the past two months. 

While your stomach twisted itself into knots, hers seemed to settle. The closer she came to danger, the calmer she became.

Your fingers traced the condensation gathering around your own glass as you quietly stared into the golden beer. The thought of walking up to a table full of strangers, pretending to be interested in one of them, was enough to make your stomach tighten. 

You had spent the last two months learning how to steal, how to lie without stumbling over your words, how to smile convincingly enough for people to lower their guard. 

But flirting? That was something entirely different.

Still...

You glanced down at the dress hugging your figure before absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over your thighs. Hanni had spent her own money buying it for you. She had curled your hair, done your makeup, and patiently convinced you that you looked like you belonged in a place like this. She had done everything she could to make tonight successful.

The least you could do was try.

The numbers flashed through your mind before you could stop them, reminding you how little time you had left before another payment was due. 

You drew in a slow breath before finally looking back at Hanni, offering her a small smile that carried far more determination than confidence.

"Alright," you said with determination. "I promise I'll do my best."

Her face immediately brightened. "That's my girl!"

She lifted her glass toward yours with a grin so wide it was almost contagious.

"Cheers to that, baby."

The soft clink echoed between you, disappearing almost instantly beneath the laughter, music, and the constant hum of conversations filling the beer house.

Easy…smile, flirt and steal.

After a couple of minutes spent nursing your drinks and quietly familiarizing yourselves with the beer house, Hanni caught your eye from across the table. She gave the slightest nod—a silent signal the two of you had long grown accustomed to. 

It was time.

You rose from your seat, smoothing the wrinkles from your dress before letting your fingers comb through your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. Hanni disappeared into the crowd without another word, already making her way toward her own target, while you headed in the opposite direction, forcing yourself to wear the kind of smile she had spent weeks teaching you. Soft enough to seem approachable…confident enough to belong.

The barstool closest to their table sat empty.

You slipped onto it, offering the bartender a polite smile as he passed by before pretending to study the rows of bottles displayed behind the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention never truly left the table behind you.

Your heartbeat steadied, not because you were any less nervous…but because your mind had finally begun doing what Hanni had trained it to do.

Observe.

A few wallets lay carelessly on the wooden table, abandoned without a second thought by men too engrossed in conversation to notice their surroundings. Your fingers twitched ever so slightly.

Tonight, maybe two wallets would be enough. Any more than that would only invite unnecessary attention.

Your gaze lingered for another second before drifting higher, carefully studying each of the men one by one. 

If you were going to approach someone tonight, it couldn't be just anyone. You needed the one who looked the wealthiest, the one whose watch alone could cover next month's rent, whose jewelry might be worth more than everything you and Hanni had managed to steal over the past few months combined.

You couldn't flirt with all of them. So if you were going to take the risk, you might as well choose the wealthiest one.

Your eyes drifted from one man to another, careful not to linger for too long. 

One wore a pair of silver earrings that matched the chain resting against his chest. Another—the one with dimples that appeared every time he laughed—had an elegant silver watch wrapped around his wrist, the polished metal glimmering beneath the warm lights whenever he reached for his beer. The man beside him looked much simpler, dressed in an ordinary black shirt without a single piece of jewelry to catch your attention, and you dismissed him almost immediately.

You kept looking.

Until your gaze landed on a tattooed hand lazily wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, each one different from the next, and just above them rested a watch that looked far too expensive to belong in your world. Your eyes followed the slow movement of his hand as he lifted the bottle to his lips, only to notice the gold chain disappearing beneath the collar of his dark shirt. 

His ear was adorned with several silver earrings, each one catching the amber light whenever he turned toward one of his friends. When he tilted his head back for another sip, the small silver ring through his lower lip glinted just as brightly.

Then your gaze wandered lower…a pair of Porsche keys hung carelessly from the belt loop of his black jeans, swinging gently whenever he shifted in his seat as though they were nothing more than an ordinary keychain.

You quietly looked away before he could catch you staring, your heartbeat quickening as your fingers curled around the wooden counter.

Target locked.

You immediately order a shot of tequila, not to get drunk, but to act drunk.

Hanni had told you that people lowered their guard around someone who seemed tipsy. A little laugh that lingered too long, a gaze that wandered a little too often, movements just clumsy enough to look believable. It made approaching strangers easier.

You thanked the bartender with a polite smile before resting your elbow against the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention drifted back to the table.

His back was mostly facing you, making it difficult to study him without being obvious. Every now and then he'd turn toward one of his friends, giving you a brief glimpse of his side profile before looking away again, and somehow those fleeting seconds were enough for you to notice far more than you intended.

His jaw was clean and sharply defined, catching the amber glow whenever he tipped his head back to drink. A straight nose balanced his features effortlessly, while soft strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, shifting every time he ran a hand through them. Every so often, you caught sight of his dark round eyes, softened by the alcohol he'd been drinking, their usual alertness replaced by a lazy heaviness that made them unexpectedly... pretty.

Your brows knitted together. 

You were supposed to be memorizing his belongings Y/N! Not his face!

The bartender slid your tequila across the counter. You murmured a quiet thank you before lifting the glass to your lips, taking only a small sip. The burn barely had time to settle in your throat before your eyes sneakily wandered back toward the table.

"Huh?"  

His seat was empty!

Your brows furrowed as your eyes searched the group, confusion replacing the confidence you had spent the last several minutes trying so hard to build.

"Looking for me?” a deep chuckle sounded from behind you.

Your eyes widened, you turned so quickly you nearly knocked your drink over.

Even with you sitting down, he towered over you with ease, one side of his body leaning casually against the polished wooden counter. Up close, the details you had only managed to steal glances of moments ago became impossible to ignore—the silver rings decorating his fingers, the tattoos stretching over his right arm, the small hoop piercing his lower lip, and those heavy-lidded eyes now looking directly into yours.

The corner of his mouth curled upward…amused.

As though he'd caught you doing something you weren't supposed to.

"H-Hi!" you greeted, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended as you struggled to hide how badly he had startled you.

What the fuck.

For a split second, every lesson Hanni had drilled into your head disappeared. Your carefully rehearsed smile, your excuses, the confident persona you had spent two months trying to build—they all vanished the moment he caught you off guard.

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

"May I help you?"

Your own brows drew together before you could stop them, your smile faltering for the briefest moment.

"Hm?"

"You kept looking at me." he chuckled, low and amused.

There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as though he'd caught you staring several times already and had simply decided to humor you instead of calling you out for it. 

Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly, your mind scrambling for something—anything…that would keep your act from falling apart before it had even begun.

Trying to save yourself, you immediately gave him a flirty smile.

"Oh..." a soft giggle escaped your lips, "Was I that obvious?"

You tilted your head ever so slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at him through your lashes exactly the way Hanni had told you to. 

When he took a step closer, your breath hitched. 

His thick black boots brushed against the legs of your stool, and with the way he positioned himself, his broad frame nearly shielded you from the rest of the room. It wasn't intentional…or maybe it was—but suddenly the chatter of the beer house seemed much farther away than it had a second ago.

"Uh-huh," he murmured, the single sound barely above a whisper.

The faint scent of mint lingered beneath the beer on his breath, close enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment. Up close, the gold chain resting against his collarbone shimmered softly, layered alongside several silver necklaces that framed the base of his neck. 

Before your courage had the chance to abandon you…you slowly lifted a hand and rested it around the back of his neck, your fingertips grazing the cool metal chains lying against his skin.

"You're cute," you whispered, biting lightly on your lower lip as your fingers idly toyed with one of the necklaces. Every movement had been rehearsed in your head a dozen times before tonight, yet none of them felt natural now that they were happening. You only hoped he couldn't tell.

Fuck, he’s so handsome up close!

His head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his face before his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered far longer than you were prepared for, tracing the exposed skin above your dress before continuing lower. Instinctively, you fought the urge to tug at the hem that had ridden higher on your thighs.

Don't. Fake it until you make it.

"I am?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk. His tongue swept across the silver ring piercing his lower lip before he leaned even closer, his lips hovering just beneath your ear.

"Yeah," you breathed, forcing confidence into your voice despite the frantic beating of your heart. "Want you."

The words felt foreign leaving your mouth. Still, they had the desired effect.

As his attention remained fixed on the spot where your pulse fluttered, your fingers subtly found the clasp hidden beneath the chains around his neck. 

One careful movement...that was all it would take.

You had barely begun to unhook it when his hand closed firmly around your wrist.

Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second, you were certain he'd caught you.

"Let's go to my car."

What?

"H-Huh? I..."

He lifted his head just enough for your eyes to meet his. The lazy amusement from earlier had disappeared, replaced by something darker. 

"I can't fuck you here."

Your eyes widen, fucking was your limit!

Your gaze drifted to the thick gold necklace resting against his chest... the leather wallet tucked carelessly into his pocket... and the sleek black car waiting only a few steps away.

Fuck it.

You followed him in silence, the cool night breeze brushing against your exposed skin and reminding you just how short your dress was. 

Your gaze remained fixed on his broad back as he unlocked the car, your throat tightening around a nervous swallow.

Earlier, when you had walked past Hanni, you had nearly burst into tears at the sight of her giving you an approving nod, silently cheering you on while she remained at her table, busy charming the men around her.

You couldn't back out now. Not after she'd placed this much faith in you.

The parking lot was quiet, a little farther from the beer house…the music fading into the distance. When he turned around, you gathered every ounce of courage you had left and greeted him with the sweetest smile you could muster.

Your mind raced, thoughts crashing into one another until only three remained.

First, find a way to slip the gold chain from around his neck. The wallet would come next, once he finally let his guard down.

Second, you were not going to fuck him. 

It didn't matter how broad his shoulders were, how unfairly handsome he looked, or how pretty his eyes became whenever he smiled.

Your hormones could cry about it later.

Third, whatever happened tonight... for the love of God, do not get caught.

He looked down at you, one brow lifting ever so slightly when he noticed the faint tremble in your legs.

"Get in."

He pulled the backseat door open for you, and you offered him a small, flirty smile before carefully slipping inside. 

The leather seat gave beneath your weight with a quiet creak, and for the briefest moment, you convinced yourself you'd have a second to steady your breathing, to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts before facing him again.

The hope didn't last.

The car shifted as he climbed in after you, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that seemed to swallow the last bit of space inside the cabin. 

Your pulse faltered, the hem of your dress had ridden higher than you'd intended, exposing far more of your thighs than you were comfortable with, the fabric inching dangerously close to revealing the lace of your panties. Every instinct urged you to smooth it back into place, but you stopped yourself.

Focus, Y/N! You need to seduce him!

You had barely opened your mouth, ready to deliver one of the corniest pickup lines Hanni had relentlessly drilled into your head, when his hand suddenly pulled your hair. 

Your lips parted in surprise as he tugged you toward him, leaving no room for hesitation before his lips crashed against yours.

A breathless whimper escaped you, your eyes widening for only a second before they fluttered shut. His fingers tightened around the hair above your nape, angling your head exactly how he wanted it, his kisses deep, hungry, and impatient.

The bitter trace of beer lingered on his tongue, flooding your senses until your thoughts blurred at the edges. Your body yielded without resistance, melting effortlessly against his as he drew you closer, the strength behind the movement making you feel almost weightless in his hold.

For a fleeting moment, you forgot your mission.

His tongue slipped against yours with practiced ease, stealing every coherent thought from your mind before instinct finally caught up. 

You slowly lifted your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the softness of his hair as though simply indulging in the kiss. Then, careful not to rush…they drifted lower, brushing over the warm skin of his nape before gliding toward the necklace resting against his neck.

“Open your mouth wider,” he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak. A string of saliva stretched between your mouths as his other hand slid around your neck…his long, tattooed fingers wrapping firmly around your throat in a possessive grip.

Your eyes widened…one of your hands remained tangled behind his nape, your fingers still toying with the chain around his neck, desperately searching for the tiny clasp hidden beneath his hair. 

Too distracted to obey his request… he suddenly tugged your hair harder.

A startled gasp escaped your lips, and he seized the opportunity—his tongue slipping hot and messy into your parted mouth, kissing you with a hunger that left you no chance to catch your breath.

You barely kissed him back, surrendering to the pace he set as your mind gradually emptied. Somehow, through the dizziness clouding your head, your fingertips continued their quiet search along the cool metal resting against his skin, praying to find the clasp before he noticed.

“Mmph!”

A soft whimper caught in your throat when he bit down harshly on your lower lip. The hand around your neck tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into your throat until your breath hitched, the pressure almost choking you.

“What are you doing?” he groaned, pulling you away from his lips before effortlessly lifting your entire body onto his lap. 

Large hands settled on your hips, guiding your legs to either side of him until you were straddling him completely, your dress riding embarrassingly higher over your thighs in the process.

“Hmm?” you murmured, blinking up at him through hazy eyes, your lips swollen and glistening from his relentless kisses.

He tilted his head, studying you in silence. 

The intensity of his gaze made something tighten inside your chest. Your confidence, already hanging by a thread, began to unravel beneath his eyes alone, and without thinking, your hands abandoned the necklace altogether, drifting back into his hair as though that had been your intention from the very beginning.

“Kiss me back,” he rasped.

A quiet breath of relief nearly escaped your lips. He hadn't noticed.

You offered him the sweetest smile you could manage before leaning in again, your heart pounding so violently you were certain he could feel it through your chest. You kissed him as carefully as you could, trying to mimic the way he'd kissed you only moments ago, parting his lips with hesitant eagerness, hoping it looked natural enough to fool him.

To your surprise, he let you…he didn't take control or deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply let you explore him at your own pace.

Heat crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming beneath your skin as the realization slowly dawned on you. 

He wasn't following your lead. 

“Baby...” he chuckled between kisses, his tattooed hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, holding your face steady with a firm grip. “You're not kissing me properly.”

Embarrassment rushed through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy, your inexperience laid bare after only a few clumsy kisses. 

Determination quickly swallowed the humiliation. 

Before you could think twice, you leaned in again, kissing him with far more urgency than before, desperate to prove that you knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment he finally kissed you back, a breathless whimper nearly escaped you. 

He kissed you effortlessly, guiding the rhythm while you struggled to keep up, your breaths already turning shallow enough that you were certain you looked seconds away from hyperventilating.

Determined not to lose yourself completely, you bit down on his lower lip, earning a low, gravelly groan that vibrated against your mouth. The sound alone made your stomach flutter. Taking advantage of the distraction, your trembling hands drifted back to the chain around his neck, fingertips carefully searching beneath his hair for the tiny clasp.

Your eyes fluttered shut when he sucked on your tongue, warmth rushing across your ears and down your neck so quickly it almost burned. It was your first time being kissed like this—his kisses were shamelessly lewd, all heat and desperation. Saliva glistened between your mouths whenever he pulled away, only to capture your lower lip again with another lingering suck that stole the air from your lungs. 

Before long, the only sounds filling the car were the quiet, wet presses of your mouths and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.

You couldn't tell whether he was simply that good at kissing or if your lack of experience made every touch feel overwhelming. Either way, the way his hand remained wrapped around your jaw, firmly angling your head exactly where he wanted it, sent a shiver running down your spine.

A soft, helpless moan escaped your lips when you felt him spit into your mouth without breaking the kiss. The sensation sent heat unfurling through every inch of your body, your knees threatening to weaken even from where you sat on his lap. 

Your thoughts dissolved into a haze, and before you realized it, the fingers that had been so carefully searching for the clasp of his necklace had gone slack, your mission slipping further out of reach with every slow, lingering pull of his mouth.

“Grind on me.” he groaned.

Your eyes widened, before you could even process his words, both of his hands settled around the curve of your hips, guiding your body into a slow, deliberate roll against his lap.

“W-Wait—” 

His mouth found your neck, scattering soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled across your body as his lips traveled lower, his grip never once leaving your hips as he slowly rocked them back and forth, drawing helpless whimpers from your lips.

Heat rushed to your cheeks the moment you felt the firm outline of his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.

“Roll your hips, baby.” he grunted.

His teeth grazed your neck before his tongue soothed the sting, the cool metal of his lip piercing dragging lightly over your throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut…losing yourself completely as you followed the guidance of his hands, the subtle throbs of his cock impossible to ignore through the layers separating your bodies.

“That’s it,” he praised, looking down at your rolling hips.

“Oh, gosh…” you moaned.

You couldn't comprehend how dirty and lewd this was, grinding against a stranger's cock while convincing yourself that you wouldn't fuck him.

His clothed mushroom tip grazed the apex between your thighs as he guided your hips through another slow rub, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. A wave of warmth unfurled low in your stomach, spreading until it settled heavily between your legs.

Fuck, you were getting so wet.

Your body burned with a growing tension you didn't know how to quiet. The fabric of your panties clung uncomfortably against your cunt. When his hands finally cupped your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress, a shaky breath caught in your throat. 

Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shoulders for balance as he continued to maneuver your body with effortless ease.

“Oh my-”

His lips trailed lower…you sucked in a sharp breath when they reached the swell of your cleavage, your heart stumbling the moment you caught sight of his tongue slipping between the soft curve of your breasts, tasting the narrow valley created by the tight fabric hugging your chest.

“Hmm... so soft,” he murmured.

Before you could even process the praise, he leaned back just enough to gather saliva in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing before he leaned down and let a warm bead of spit fall between your breasts. It slowly trailed down the center of your cleavage, disappearing beneath the neckline of your dress.

A startled gasp escaped you, the shamelessness of it sent another rush of heat coursing through your body.

“Spread my spit, baby.” his voice dropped into a teasing murmur as he brushed a lingering kiss against your cheek. “I want you messy.”

He never stopped guiding your hips, slow, patient rubs against his lap while he watched you expectantly.

You swallowed thickly. It felt as though your body had slipped into a trance, your thoughts muffled beneath the haze he'd wrapped around you. 

Almost absentmindedly, your fingers found the warmth between your breasts, gathering the wetness before slowly spreading his spit across the soft skin of your cleavage, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes following every hesitant movement.

Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the gold chain resting against his collarbone.

The necklace!

For a split second, you wanted to slap yourself. 

You'd become so hopelessly lost in him that you'd nearly forgotten why you were here in the first place.

Trying to keep up the act, you smiled and gathered the warm trace of his spit onto your fingertips before slowly bringing them to your lips. A flicker of nervousness stirred in your chest as you parted your lips, letting your tongue glide languidly over your damp fingers, never once breaking eye contact with him.

His lips parted. “You like it?”

You nodded. “Hmm…”

“Want more?” he cooed, his voice rough with satisfaction. 

Your cheeks heated, a little self-conscious under the way he stared at you before leaning in to kiss you again. You whimpered when he spat into your mouth while kissing you, trying to focus as your hands finally found the chain around his neck. Your fingers worked quickly beneath the curtain of his hair, your heart pounding so violently you feared he would hear it.

Then—the clasp gave. 

Relief crashed over you.

You carefully eased the necklace free, letting the chain slip from your fingers onto the leather seat beside you with a faint clink before your hands returned to brace against his chest. 

Your pulse hammered in your throat, so distracted by stealing the jewelry that you didn't feel his fingers hooking beneath the thin straps of your black dress until they were already sliding down. Cool air kissed your skin a second before you realized the straps had fallen from your shoulders, the dress bunched at your waist, your bra laid bare beneath his dark, hungry stare.

"Ohh—" a moan ripped from your lips when his hands grabbed your tits through the bra, his palms kneading the soft flesh as his fingers pinched and rolled your stiff nipples through the thin lace. 

"So pretty," he praised, his eyes never leaving the swell of your breasts spilling over the cups.

His hand slid behind your back, his fingers flicking the clasp open. Your bra sprang loose, your tits bouncing free, your nipples peaked and aching.

“Keep grinding, baby.” he rasped.

Your hips moved before your brain could catch up, rolling against his lap. His hard cock formed a thick ridge beneath his pants, pressing right against your soaked panties. 

The delicious friction made your cunt leak, slick pooling in the gusset as each slow roll of your hips rubbed your clit across his length until your panties clung to your wet, chubby slit.

“Mhm,” you whined as his mouth locked onto one nipple, his tongue lapping at the bud before sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly while his other hand squeezed your breast, his fingers twisting the neglected nipple until it throbbed.

Wet sounds filled the car—the slurp of his mouth around your nipple and the squelch of your dripping cunt rubbing against his cock through the fabric. 

You forced yourself to look down, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for anything that might help you finish what you had come here to do. Then your thigh brushed against the square outline beneath the fabric of his pants.

His wallet.

You drew in a shaky breath before rolling your hips against him with a little more desperation. A low groan vibrated against your nipple the moment he felt the change in your rhythm, the sound sending another wave of heat through your body. 

A helpless whine slipped from your lips as your own hands wandered over him, trying to appear just as consumed by the moment. Your palms skimmed over his shoulders, down the firm planes of his chest, and lower still, making you swallow hard at the realization of just how toned he felt beneath your touch.

“Ouch,” you whimpered when his teeth suddenly bit into your nipple.

He only chuckled against your skin.

The sting disappeared beneath a lingering kiss before he lifted his head just enough to murmur.

“Slow down, baby. You're gonna make me cum.” 

The teasing words had barely left his lips before his attention shifted back to your breast, his mouth closing around the swollen nipple with harsh, eager suction that made your thighs instinctively tense around him.

Even through the layers of his pants, you could feel how big and hard he was beneath you, the firm outline of his thick cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties with every shallow movement. 

Fuck, focus Y/N.

His wallet had shifted dangerously close to the edge of his pocket, almost slipping free from the constant movement of your bodies.

You rolled your hips against him again…another soft moan escaping your lips as the friction sent a dizzying pulse of pleasure through you. 

“Oh my…” 

For a fleeting second, you almost forgot the wallet, your body threatening to lose the battle your mind was still desperately trying to win.

“Baby…” he groaned harshly.

His hands tightened around your waist, pinning your hips firmly in place before you could move against him again.

Confused, you instinctively tried to move again, but his hand beat you to it. It slipped between your thighs before firmly cupping your pussy over your soaked panties, his palm pressing against your wet cunt as his fingers slowly dragged against the damp fabric. A soft, unmistakable squelch filled the quiet cabin, and your breath caught in your throat.

“I said stay still, fuck.” he whispered, mercilessly squeezing your pussy through the thin fabric until another helpless moan spilled from your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, your mouth falling open as his slow, deliberate touch only made you wetter, the soaked fabric sticking embarrassingly to your folds with every movement of his hand.

A startled gasp escaped you when his free hand suddenly rose to your face, firmly squeezing your cheeks together. 

“Keep your eyes open. Look at what I'm doing to you,” he commanded, his thumb finding your clit through the damp fabric and rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent a violent shiver through your body.

“Oh... gosh,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath. 

Your thoughts were beginning to dissolve all over again until something caught your eye.

His wallet had finally slipped free from his pocket, landing quietly on the leather seat beside him. Relief surged through you, and you almost smiled in triumph, the sight nearly distracting you from your mission's success.

Before you could dwell on it, he hooked a finger beneath the damp gusset of your panties, flipping the fabric aside just enough to expose your slick pussy. His fingertips returned, meeting your bare cunt directly, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact tore another breathless gasp from your lips.

Your eyes rolled back as his long fingers slowly rubbed against your sensitive cunt. The cool metal of his rings grazed your slit with every stroke, sending a sharp shiver through your body and drawing another helpless whimper from your throat.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Enjoying yourself?"

You could only nod, slow and breathless, your chest rising and falling beneath uneven breaths. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your face burning from every filthy thing you had let him do to you.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You like my fingers, baby?"

Before you could answer, his middle finger slowly pressed into your tight, untouched hole.

A broken whimper escaped you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your body instinctively tensed around the unfamiliar stretch. For a fleeting second, your hand nearly came up to push him away, your inexperience heightening every overwhelming sensation. But he caught your face first, his fingers tightening around your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him.

He inhaled softly before hollowing his cheeks, gathering saliva in his mouth, then leaned closer and messily spat between your parted lips.

"Swallow."

You obeyed without hesitation, your throat bobbing as you swallowed, your walls fluttering tightly around his finger at the command.

His hand slipped lower, lifting the hem of your skirt before his gaze settled between your thighs. He watched with quiet fascination as his finger slowly disappeared inside your virgin hole before drawing back out again, only to repeat the motion at an unhurried pace.

"You're so tight, baby." he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your pussy. "When was the last time you fucked?"

The question alone nearly brought tears to your eyes, embarrassment burning through you just as intensely as the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure his touch continued to pull from your body.

“L-Long time ago.” 

As if Y/N! 

He licked his lower lip, a quiet whimper slipping past your lips as the pad of his middle finger reached deeper inside your warm tight hole. His movements remained slow until his fingertip brushed against your spongy spot, the sharp ache of the stretch gradually melting into a pleasure so warm it made your body soften around him.

"Aww, is that why you're so tight, baby?” he whispered.

God, this was so wrong.

“Maybe you need me to stretch your hole again, hmm?" he cooed, lowering his head until his lips wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking gently while his finger continued to work deeper into your tight cunt.

"Y-Yes," you mumbled incoherently, your rational thoughts dissolving as your hips instinctively rolled forward, chasing the slow rhythm of his finger.

The moment he felt you move, his free hand settled firmly around your waist, stilling you with ease. He released your nipple with a soft pop before a quiet chuckle escaped him, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours with unmistakable amusement.

"Patience, baby. I'm still having fun."

A pout tugged at your lips, ready to answer back, but the words never came. His left hand slipped between your thighs instead, slowly parting your folds before drawing back the hood revealing your glistening clit, exposing it completely beneath his dark gaze.

"Wanna suck this clit so bad," he whispered, his gaze fixed between your thighs as your clit pulsed beneath the weight of his stare.

He leaned down and spat over it, a slow trail of saliva slipping down your slit until it met the middle finger buried inside your hole. A helpless whimper caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he spread the saliva over your exposed clit with slow, pressured strokes, every messy rub sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

Both of his hands were devoted to you now. His tattooed fingers continued to work your tight hole with an unhurried rhythm while his other hand circled your swollen clit, spreading your growing wetness together with his saliva. His eyes never left your cunt, watching every tiny twitch, every shiver that rippled through you as though he wanted to memorize your pulsating pussy.

"You wanna cum?" he asked, lifting a brow as he watched your chest rise and fall with uneven breaths. His middle finger emerged coated in a thick ring of your white milky juices before disappearing back inside you, while your legs trembled uncontrollably beneath every slow sweep of his thumb across your swollen clit.

You nodded desperately, “Y-Yes…”

He pursed his lips, studying you for a long moment.

"You sure?"

"P-Please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively rolling in search of more.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" a small smile tugged at his lips, though there wasn't a trace of humor behind it.

Confusion barely had the chance to settle before he slowly inserted a second finger into your cunt.

A loud moan tore from your throat as the sudden stretch stole the air from your lungs. His fingers paused only briefly, allowing your body to adjust before they began to move together, scissoring you open with slow, rhythmic strokes while his other hand never stopped rubbing your clit.

The lingering ache of the stretch gradually melted beneath the mounting pleasure, your body surrendering to it completely. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his hand, your back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your eyes rolled back, your walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers while wave after wave of pleasure left your entire body trembling.

“Well done, baby.” he praised.

Even after the intensity began to ebb, your cunt continued to pulse around him, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks.

Only when your breathing had become nothing more than uneven gasps did he slowly withdraw his fingers from your hole, drawing another helpless whimper from your lips as the sudden emptiness met your lingering sensitivity.

Then he leaned in, his teeth grazed the shell of your ear in a soft bite before his lips brushed against it.

"I’m so proud." he whispered.

As your gaze drifted downward, it caught on the slight opening of his wallet, the sight striking you like a quiet reminder of why you had approached him in the first place.

Your fucking mission.

You bit down hard on your lower lip, gathering what little composure remained before forcing the words past your throat.

"C-Can I drink some water? I'm kinda thirsty," you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs were still trembling from your release, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

You expected him to refuse…Instead, he simply nodded.

"Hmm sure, baby. Let me get it for you."

His tongue swept across his lower lip before he gently tucked a few loose strands of hair away from your flushed cheeks, his touch unexpectedly tender as his eyes lingered on yours.

You swallowed hard, relief flooding through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy.

"I'll wait for you here," you said with a small smile, leaning forward just enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he stood.

His eyes narrowed, smiling a little, but there was something in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

The moment he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him before disappearing into the noisy beer house in search of a bottle of water, you sprang into action. 

You quickly fixed your dress before reaching for the thick gold necklace that had slipped onto the leather seat during everything that had happened between the two of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before darting toward his wallet, still resting exactly where you had dropped it after deliberately sitting on it when you asked for water. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears as your gaze frantically swept across the interior of the car, searching for anything else of value. It didn't take long before your eyes landed on a small, heavy bag tucked beneath the passenger seat. 

Without wasting another second—or even bothering to look more....you snatched it as well, clutching the necklace, the wallet, and the bag tightly against your chest before quietly pushing the car door open.

With shaky, trembling hands, you slipped out of the vehicle and hurried toward the nearest sprawling tree beside the parking lot, its thick trunk shielding you from anyone who might glance in your direction. Only then did you allow yourself to stop, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as you hugged your stolen belongings close, desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart. 

The necklace alone felt expensive in your hands, its weight unmistakable, and you couldn't help but admire the rich gleam of the gold beneath the parking lot lights. 

This has to be high-karat. 

Your eyes practically sparkled at the thought, relief and triumph swelling inside your chest as you silently congratulated yourself. You had actually managed to steal from him without getting fucked... and without getting caught.

Almost.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the thick gold necklace into your pocket, the reassuring weight of it pressing against your thigh. 

Your attention soon drifted to the heavy bag you had grabbed from beneath the seat, curiosity getting the better of you. You crouched beneath the tree and slowly pulled the zipper open, your brows knitting together at the sight of something black and metallic nestled inside. 

Frowning, you reached to get a better look, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

It was a gun. 

What the fuck?

Your hands instantly began to shake. The bag slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the parking lot. 

You stared at it in horror before your gaze darted to the wallet still clutched tightly against your chest, your pulse pounding so violently it made your fingers numb.

"Oh God... this is a bad idea," you whispered to yourself, panic clawing its way up your throat.

For one reckless moment, you considered running back, returning the necklace, the wallet, the bag….everything—and pretending none of this had ever happened. 

Maybe you could leave them inside his car before he noticed. Maybe you could still walk away.

But it was already too late.

If there was one thing Hanni had drilled into your head from the very beginning, it was this: once you stole something, you never gave it back. Going back wasn't bravery—it was stupidity. 

And stupidity was exactly how thieves got caught.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened his wallet, your brows immediately knitting together when an identification card tucked behind a gleaming gold badge came into view. 

Your stomach dropped. This wasn't a wallet at all—it was a badge holder. 

A cold chill crept down your spine as your fingers shakily flipped the leather, your eyes scanning every detail printed across the identification. The words blurred together at first, your racing heart making it impossible to focus, until your gaze landed on the line that mattered most.

CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT

Rank: Captain  | Name: Jeon Jungkook

For a long, terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, your pulse pounding so violently it drowned out every sound around you. 

"F-Fuck! Oh God—fuck!"

The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper as your hands shook so violently you could barely keep hold of the badge holder. 

Your breathing grew shallow, your mind racing through every possible escape, each one ending worse than the last. 

You stared at the polished badge in horror, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest, when the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached your ears.

Panic surged through your body, and you instinctively turned, ready to run for your life, but a firm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could take a single step.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a quiet chuckle from behind you, amusement lacing his voice.

You froze.

Your gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too terrified to look back at him. Cold sweat trickled down your spine as your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

The heavy bag still lay on the ground at your feet. The gold necklace weighed against your pocket. And clutched tightly between your trembling fingers was his badge holder, still opened to the identification that had shattered every ounce of confidence you had only moments ago.

You had been fucking caught.

Not just by any random stranger. 

But by a goddamn police captain.

"I got your water, baby," he said, his voice coated in quiet amusement. You flinched the moment the cold bottle brushed against the back of your thighs, the chill a cruel contrast to the heat of your panic.

"O-Officer, I—"

"You forgot something, didn't you?" he whispered against your ear, his grip never loosening around your wrist. 

The bottle of water lazily traced the length of your trembling thigh, as though he had all the time in the world.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, hot tears gathering until they spilled freely down your cheeks. Every frantic thought crashed into the next, leaving you unable to form a single coherent sentence.

He leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting just below your ear.

"You forgot my wallet, baby." his voice dropped into a slow drawl. "That's my badge holder."

A broken sob caught in your throat. Your future flashed before your eyes in vivid, terrifying fragments. 

You could already see the cold metal of handcuffs locking around your wrists, the flashing red and blue lights, the backseat of a patrol car, a holding cell, your family finding out, your future slipping through your fingers before you had even been given the chance to fight for it. Everything you had worked so hard for, every dream you had stubbornly clung to despite your circumstances, all of it seemed to crumble into pieces in the span of a few unbearable seconds.

You had just thrown your entire life away.

“P-Please, I-’’

"Is my poor baby too dumb, or does that pretty little head of yours just want to get fucked?"

You shook your head frantically, tears spilling faster down your cheeks. "N-No, no, Officer, please... I'm sorry. It was a mistake—"

A startled gasp escaped you when he suddenly spun you around, your back pressing against the rough bark of the tree. Your tear-clouded eyes instantly met his dark ones, the amusement lingering in them only making the panic clawing at your chest grow worse.

He raised a brow, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment.

"Aww, look at you…so scared, baby." he cooed.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Want me to give you a chance?’’ he tilted his head.

Hope bloomed inside your chest so suddenly it almost hurt.

Jungkook took another step forward, his broad frame caging you against the tree until there was nowhere left to run. Your entire body trembled beneath his gaze, your heart pounding so violently you could barely hear yourself think, and you looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, clinging to the smallest possibility that he might actually let you go.

"P-Please, Officer… I-I'm sorry..." you stammered, the words tumbling over one another in your haste. "I-I know it was wrong, a-and that—"

‘’Run.” 

Your lips parted in disbelief.

"W-What?"

He slowly licked his lower lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that carried no warmth whatsoever. Stepping closer until there wasn't even a breath of space left between you, he brushed the pad of his thumb across your trembling lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Run, baby. Run as fast as you can.” his voice dropped into a low murmur, his tone as though he were talking to a child. "And when I catch you, I'm gonna take you to prison. I'll fuck you every day behind those rusty metal bars. I'll use your tight little pussy until your hole is gaping and leaking. Maybe I'll even let my comrades fuck you too. We'll take turns fucking that slutty, manipulative pussy of yours."

Desperation made people do reckless things. 

It silenced reason, drowned out fear, and left nothing behind but the instinct to survive.

You spun around and bolted before your mind had the chance to catch up, your legs carrying you as fast as they could through the dimly lit streets. Instead of following the brighter roads, you veered into the narrow, shadowed alleyways, your panicked thoughts convincing you that the light was far more dangerous than the dark. 

People could help you—but the moment they learned why you were running, they wouldn't see a terrified woman. 

They would see a thief.

A criminal…and they would hand you right back to him.

Your lungs burned, each desperate breath sharper than the last, your feet throbbing against the unforgiving pavement as you forced yourself to keep going. When a tall chain-link fence came into view, fear surged through your exhausted body. You stumbled toward it, your shaking hands already reaching for the metal, frantically searching for a way to climb over it.

You never got the chance.

A powerful hand suddenly seized both of your wrists from behind, wrenching them backward before you could react. A startled cry tore from your throat as your body was dragged away from the fence, only to be slammed against it a heartbeat later.

 “L-Let me go!” you cried.

The rough metal dug painfully into your cheek, your breath knocked from your lungs as he forced your arms higher behind your back. Then you heard it—

A sharp metallic click…cold steel closed around your wrist.

You were handcuffed.

He secured the other cuff around the metal fence, leaving your wrists restrained above your head. The cold steel bit into your skin as you instinctively struggled against it, your cheek pressed harshly against the chain-link, the rough metal scraping your flushed skin every time you tried to pull away. The handcuffs refused to budge, each desperate tug only making them dig in deeper.

"N-No... no, please," you cried, your voice breaking into helpless sobs.

Instead of hurting you, he reached up and gently combed a few loose strands of hair away from your face, the unexpected tenderness making your entire body flinch. His fingers lingered for a moment, idly twirling a lock of your hair around them before giving it a soft tug.

"Shh, it’s okay…" he said in a mocking tone.

"I-I’m sorry, please…I’ll do anything—"

The plea died on your lips when you felt him lower himself behind you.

“Anything, baby?” he whispered.

He settled onto one knee before slowly gathering the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until your damp panties were fully exposed beneath the cool night air. His large hands slid down to your thighs, spreading your legs apart with an effortless firmness that left your body trembling against the restraint. 

Your eyes widened as you pulled uselessly at the handcuffs, your legs instinctively trying to close, but there was nowhere to go. A warm tongue suddenly pressed against the fabric between your thighs, dragging slowly over your sticky panties.

His nose remained buried in your tight hole, drawing in a slow, deep breath as though savoring every scent of you. His tongue dragged languidly along your slit from behind, the damp fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation.

"O-Oh gosh-" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your flushed cheeks as you felt him inhale against your clothed cunt again. His tongue swept over you once more, leaving your panties even wetter than before.

“Let me play with you.” he murmured before diving in.

You bit down hard on your lip, another wave of warmth pooling between your thighs despite yourself. More tears slipped from your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure tangling with the fear coursing through your body.

I am not enjoying this, I am not-

A low groan rumbled behind you as he spread your legs farther apart. His pointed nose brushed against your puckered hole, inhaling deeply. 

You craned your neck to look around, but there was no one in sight. Only the lonely yellow glow of a streetlamp stretched across the empty street, casting long shadows around the two of you.

When he flipped your panties aside, you instinctively tried to close your legs, but a startled gasp escaped your lips as his palm suddenly came down against your inner thigh with a sharp smack, the sting urging your legs back open for him.

“Open up for me, baby. Let me taste your little pussy,” he murmured, giving your thigh another light tap as he silently coaxed you to spread yourself wider.

You were getting wetter, but the thought of someone's tongue directly against your pussy was beyond your virgin imagination.

When you still didn't move, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.

You felt him rise behind you, the warmth of his body disappearing for only a brief moment before the unmistakable click of metal made your breath hitch. Before you even had the chance to turn your head, the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against your temple.

A broken cry caught in your throat, your entire body trembling. 

“W-What-”

"Spread your legs."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation. The barrel pressed more insistently against your temple, and with another shaky sob, your knees slowly fell farther apart.

A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. Only then did he pull the gun away, tucking it back into the holster at the back of his belt before lowering himself between your thighs once more. His hands wrapped around them, holding you open exactly how he wanted, and the moment he buried his face between your legs, a deep groan escaped him.

“Oh, gosh!” you moaned.

You were already leaking, his broad tongue dragged slowly up and down your chubby, swollen folds before slipping between them, teasing your slit as it delved deeper, massaging your inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes that only left you wetter.

“Pretty.” he leaned back and spat onto your cunt, watching the thick strand of saliva mingle with your slick wetness. “Do you regret what you did, baby?”

His fingers hooked beneath your outer lips, spreading them apart just enough to watch his saliva disappear deeper into your cunt. He spat again, his gaze fixed on the way it slipped between your folds, leaving your sensitive inner walls glistening.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned shamelessly, the torture only making you wetter.

“Would you let me do anything I want?” he asked, staring at your fluttering cunt.

You bit your lip, feeling your milky juices drip from every degrading thing he'd been saying to you.

“Yes.” you said in a tiny voice.

He chuckled, “You wanted to be used like this, didn't you?” 

He leaned in, his tongue flattening as he licked from your perineum to your clit in one slow, vulgar stroke, spreading his spit until his own drool began to trail down his chin. 

“You wanted this…you sat on my lap, ground your filthy cunt against my cock, acted like a good little decoy so you could rob me. But your hole's been thanking me the whole time, hasn't it?”

You shut your eyes tightly when you felt him continuously spitting on your cunt, your pussy was getting so wet that you felt it dripping on your inner thighs down to your ankles.

He held your folds apart, leaving you completely exposed for his hungry gaze. Leaning back, he watched the way they trembled and pulsed beneath his eyes before leaning down again, his tongue already darting out to lap up every drop of your juices. Each time he swallowed, he would only spit over you again, coating you until you were slick enough for him to start all over.

Your eyes widened as the muzzle of the gun pressed against your inner thigh, cool, unforgiving steel sending a shiver through your body. It slowly slid higher until it settled against your entrance, the tip quickly growing slick with your wetness.

"O-Officer—"

“Shh, you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? To rape your thief little pussy.” he mocked, his eyes fixed on the way the tip of the gun glistened with your milky juices as he slowly dragged it up and down your chubby slit.

Desperation was a frightening thing. 

It stripped away reason piece by piece until all that remained was the helpless anticipation of whatever came next.

When you didn't answer, too absorbed in the feeling of the foreign gun against your pussy, he pressed it harder against you, drawing a pained whimper from your lips as tears stung your eyes.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you," he said firmly, applying just a little more pressure.

"Y-Yes," you whimpered.

He tilted his head. "Yes, what?"

You bit your lip. "Y-Yes, O-Officer."

He hummed in approval before pulling the gun away. His tongue darted out to taste the tip, sucking your wetness from the cold metal before releasing it with a soft pop.

A low groan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself between your thighs once more, diving back into your exposed pussy with relentless hunger. The obscene sounds of slurping, sucking, and the occasional spit echoed through the place, each one making you feel weaker, more helpless beneath him.

You bit down hard on your lip as you felt your orgasm creeping closer. You tried to hold it back, to keep control, but your body betrayed you. 

Every flick of his tongue, every slow suck, every warm trail of spit sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your pussy convulse beneath his tongue. 

“F-Fuck-” you whimpered.

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms ached against the restraints, and your eyes rolled back as the pulsing sensation deep within you grew stronger with every passing second. You wanted to pull away from his mouth, to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted as he sucked out every last tremor, refusing to let you move even as the overstimulation left your body trembling.

“Mhm, you taste so good, baby,” he whispered, leaning back just enough to pinch your folds together, as though squeezing every last drop of your milky white juices from your pussy before leaning in again to catch it on his tongue.

A helpless whimper escaped your lips. Your legs were on the verge of giving out beneath you, your arms still held captive by the restraints while your pussy throbbed with overwhelming sensitivity. As he rose to his feet, his palm landed against your cunt in a careless slap, making you flinch before he lazily wiped the sheen of your juices from the corner of his mouth.

His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through the strands before tightening into a firm fist. He tugged until your head tipped back, exposing the line of your throat, and his lips brushed against your tear-dampened cheek.

“Wanna steal more, baby?”

His grip twisted tighter, pulling your head back until your neck arched painfully. 

He slowly dragged his tongue along the salty trail of your tears, licking your cheek with slow strokes, savoring the taste of your cries as another quiet hum of approval rumbled in his chest.

You whimpered, your body trembling as you felt the hard outline of his clothed bulge press against the plush of your ass. He slowly ground his erection against you, a low grunt vibrating beneath your ear while his hand kept a firm hold on your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to suck and leave harsh bites along your neck.

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered, grinding his cock more firmly against your bare ass. “My money? My jewelry?”

“O-Officer-”

His fist tightened in your hair, forcing another helpless whimper from your lips as he dragged his tongue along your throat, feeling the way you swallowed hard beneath him. “You wanted all of it, didn't you?”

His teeth sank into your neck once more as his clothed bulge rutted harder against the cleft of your ass, the seam of his pants catching against your skin with every slow roll of his hips. At the same time, his free hand slipped beneath your dress, yanking the fabric higher before grabbing a full handful of your bare ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

"My pretty, pretty thief," he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hips rolled against you with even more force.

He wrenched his pants open just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the heated length slapping against one ass cheek before the other. Pre-cum glistened over the swollen tip as he slowly ground the shaft along the plush curve of your ass, coating your skin with every deliberate roll of his hips.

"Feel that? I'm so hard for you, baby."

A helpless mewl slipped past your lips as you weakly shook your head, your entire body trembling while he continued rubbing against your ass.

“Fuck, you make me so fucking horny.” he grunted.

Your cheeks burned crimson, the same flush spreading across your neck, and another whimper escaped you when he suddenly jerked your head back by the hair. 

"Grind back, baby, or I'll fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You cried harder, your body trembling as you reluctantly began to move your ass against his cock. A deep groan escaped him, his right hand settling firmly on your hip as he looked down, watching the way his hard length slid slowly through the cleft of your ass with every hesitant grind.

He spat over the curve of your ass for added lubrication, and a helpless cry caught in your throat when you felt the warm saliva land against your puckered rim. Despite the humiliation, your pussy only grew wetter.

His tattooed hand suddenly snaked around your waist, trailing lower until it reached your cunt. You gasped as his fingers cupped your pussy before hooking between your folds, spreading your lips apart into a lewd V-shape for him to admire.

“Look down and watch your clit, baby.” he rasped, tilting your head down so your gaze fell between your legs.

“P-Please...” you croaked, your body growing weaker by the second, your pussy aching for more even as the rest of you threatened to give out.

“Wanna be fucked so bad, huh?”

You gasped as his middle finger suddenly pushed between the V-shaped hold of his fingers, slipping inside your tight cunt. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick digit as he slowly worked it deeper.

“Oh! Mhmp!” you screamed.

His cock left your ass, the slick tip dragging slowly down until it notched against your entrance, smearing pre-cum and his spit over your swollen folds.

“Gonna fuck you good, baby…you’ve been a very bad girl.” he yanked your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue traced a slow path from your neck to the shell of your ear. “Need to fuck some sense into you, hmm?’’

“Mhmp!” you whimpered.

“Shh... moan for me, baby. It'll feel good.” his finger pressed deeper one last time, stretching your walls before he slowly withdrew it. The emptiness lasted only a heartbeat before he replaced it with the thick, leaking head of his cock, nudging its way against your entrance.

“Ahhh!” you screamed at the sudden stretch, his thick cock forcing its way into your tight pussy until you could feel every pulsing vein dragging against your walls as he pushed deeper.

He thrust halfway, then stopped, watching your cunt spasm around him, a thin ribbon of milky white release clinging to his shaft like a ring. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he slowly pulled back before driving into you harder, bottoming out in one deep thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass hard enough to make the fence rattle.

“Need to use this cunt every day. Maybe I’ll let my comrades fuck this tight little cunt so they can loosen you up for me, yeah?” he grunted, pushing even deeper until his balls rested snug against your cunt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against the curve of your ass with every shallow grind.

“U-Ugh, p-please...” you screamed, trying to wriggle, but he only answered with a low grunt against your ear. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock completely.

For one fleeting moment, you thought he was finally going to let you go.

But your eyes widened the instant you heard the unmistakable clink of his leather belt being unclasped.

Your eyes widened as you felt him wrap the leather around your neck, fastening it just snug enough for him to tug whenever your cries grew too loud, cutting off your words with every sharp pull.

“Behave, baby.” he chuckled, easing himself inside you once more while keeping a firm grip on the belt for leverage. Every now and then, he gave it another deliberate tug, silencing your screams as his hips continued to drive into you.

The moment his hips began to roll against yours, your eyes fluttered back, pleasure blooming beneath the sting until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. 

“O-Oh, O-Officer!” a shaky sob escaped your lips, born as much from the humiliation as the sensation itself. Your pussy ached for more, clenching helplessly around his thick girth, betraying you with every pulse.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from behind you. His arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he circled his hips into yours, each relentless thrust threatening to lift your body off your feet.

“Is my baby enjoying this?” he whispered, giving the leather another measured yank, just enough to cut your sob short. The strap bit into the flushed skin of your throat as his hips snapped forward again, his balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every forceful thrust.

“This is turning you on, huh?”

You shook your head, but your pussy only grew wetter, your cries slowly dissolving into helpless moans as he continued to fuck you from behind.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered.

“N-No, Officer.” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you gave a slow, trembling shake of your head.

“Yeah? You like getting used?”

He gave the belt another sharp tug, cutting off your whimpers before loosening it just enough to let a broken moan spill from your lips. Then he drove into you even deeper, his mushroom tip grinding against your spongy walls until you could feel your own milky juices coating his shaft.

"Gonna lock you up in a cell, baby… you'll be the precinct's little fucktoy."

The moment his thick head brushed against your g-spot, your entire body spasmed around his cock. A harsh groan tore from his throat as your walls clamped down on him, forcing him to pull out almost immediately. His movements turned urgent, one hand fumbling for the keys clipped to his belt while the other steadied you. Your hazy eyes fluttered shut as you felt the handcuffs finally come undone from your wrists.

You thought he was done.

A weak gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly flipped you over to face him, your exhausted arms falling limply to your sides as he stripped away the rest of your dress. Without a word, he lifted you with effortless strength and pinned you against the cold metal fence before guiding his hard cock back inside you. A broken whimper slipped from your throat at the oversensitivity left behind by your previous orgasm, your body instinctively tensing around him as his mouth found your exposed nipples, sucking them greedily while he chased his own release.

Your body bounced helplessly with every powerful thrust, like a toy being used exactly as he pleased. Your tongue nearly lolled from your parted lips, your mind reduced to nothing but scattered pleasure as his larger frame manhandled yours with ease. Low grunts and strained moans vibrated against your swollen nipples, each sound muffled by the way his mouth refused to leave them.

A rough growl tore from his throat as his climax finally overtook him. You felt the thick warmth of his release spilling deep inside your already used hole, his hips continuing to roll against yours in slow, deep motions, as though determined to push every last drop of his cum even deeper. 

“Fuck, baby,” his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your breast, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the lingering waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Some of it trickled down the insides of your thighs, warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open…your body hanging limply in his grasp.

When he finally set you back on your feet, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. Before you could steady yourself, he was already kneeling between your thighs again, firmly spreading them apart as though he hadn't just reduced them to trembling. 

“W-Wait-” you panicked.

A helpless cry escaped your lips when his mouth found your swollen pussy once more, lapping up the mixture of his release and your milky wetness, slurping every drop with relentless hunger. The overstimulation sent your body reeling, your clit already so unbearably sensitive that the moment his tongue slid upward to wrap around it, your pussy pulsed against his mouth, another orgasm crashing through you before you could stop it.

He looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching every twitch and shudder that overtook your body as you came around his mouth. 

You could see the way his cheeks hollowed with every slow suck on your clit, and somehow the sight of his discarded gun and badge lying carelessly on the floor beside him made the moment feel even dirtier—

A police officer on his knees, devotedly eating out the very thief he had caught.

Only when he was satisfied did he rise to his feet. His hand slipped into your hair, gently tugging you toward him until his lips claimed yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you with greedy desperation. Your eyelids grew heavy, your knees threatening to buckle again, your body barely able to remain upright.

You flinched when you felt his hardened cock brush against your inner thighs even as he continued kissing you, a wave of panic surging through your exhausted body. Your pussy already felt swollen and unbearably sensitive, every nerve still humming from the relentless orgasms he had pulled from you.

As though sensing the fear creeping into your expression, he let out a low chuckle, slowly pulling away from your lips to study your face.

"Aww, is my baby tired?" he cooed, the words dripping with mock honey as he nudged your chin upward. 

You shook your head, your body instinctively yielding to whatever he was going to do next.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he bit down on his lower lip, your quiet submission enough to make his cock throb.

"Kneel for me."

Your knees trembled beneath you as you slowly lowered yourself, a startled gasp escaping your lips the moment the swollen tip dragged a lazy streak of pre-cum across your cheek.

"Open up, baby…daddy's not done." he gathered your hair into one hand with a gentleness that belonged to a lover rather than the man standing before you, tilting your face toward his groin, a smile tugging at his lips that never quite reached the darkness in his eyes.

"Clean up the mess you made, hmm? Open wide for Officer."

The swollen head nudged past your lips, and a mock-pitying sigh slipped from him as your mouth slowly yielded around his cock, your tongue flattening instinctively beneath the weight before a helpless gag caught in your throat.

"There, there," he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair. "Suck nice and slow, pretty girl."

He began to rock his hips into your mouth in slow, shallow thrusts, while his free hand continued to pet your hair with a tenderness so painfully at odds with the degradation spilling from his lips.

"That's it, baby," he praised softly. "Tongue flat, like the dumb, cute slut you are."

He pushed his cock deeper until the swollen mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat, the prominent veins along his shaft dragging against the roof of your mouth with every slow thrust, the upward curve making each movement reach even deeper.

"I can give you everything you want, baby," he whispered, a groan slipping past his lips as his thrusts gradually became sloppier, his grip on your hair tightening with every push. Saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth as you fought the urge to choke, wet, muffled gargles escaping your throat each time he buried himself deeper. Your eyes burned, quickly turning red as tears pooled along your lash line.

He cradled your hair once more, the tenderness of the gesture clashing with the relentless pace of his hips.

"I can provide for you... spoil you with all of my money," he murmured, easing himself forward until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his pelvis. 

He held your face snugly in place for a brief moment before slowly rolling his hips, then gently pulled you back just enough to let you catch your breath, his saliva-slick cock dragging across your flushed cheeks.

"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head as he lazily ground his cock against your swollen cheek.

You nodded eagerly, your tear-filled eyes never leaving his.

He chuckled, giving your cheek a light tap with the head of his cock. "Do you understand me, baby?"

You pouted…your cheeks burning red, your eyes swollen, your lips wet with his precum. 

“Mhm..” 

“Mhm?” he chuckled.

He bit his lower lip as he stared down at you, quietly admiring the mess he'd made. “Cute.” 

Without warning, he yanked your head forward until he was fully seated inside your mouth, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as his balls slapped against your chin with each shallow roll of his hips.

"Gurk—gurk—"

You choked around him, tears immediately spilling down your cheeks, but the only response he gave was a deep groan as he slowly began to fuck your face, each thrust forcing another muffled gargle from your throat.

"Fuck, baby...I'm gonna cum."

He pulled out just enough to lean down and spit onto your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, the loose belt still hanging around your neck, its end dragging through the dirt every time your head was forced forward.

You gagged helplessly around him, your cheeks hollowing as your eyes rolled back, your head rocking back and forth with every relentless thrust while he used your mouth however he pleased. And when you felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts growing rougher and increasingly sloppy, he suddenly pulled free with a low groan. Before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you to your feet, one arm wrapped firmly around your body as he guided his cock against your cunt, his other hand positioning himself before pushing his hard cock back into your tight hole.

“I’m gonna cum inside baby, a reward for being a good little toy for daddy.”

A broken cry escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering the moment he came. Thick, warm spurts filled you one after another while your body trembled from the lingering overstimulation, his hips continuing to jerk and roll against yours as he emptied every last drop inside you.

"These are worth thousands, Y/N! Oh my God."

Hanni's eyes widened in utter disbelief, her gaze sweeping across the worn wooden table as though she couldn't decide which stolen treasure to look at first.

A thick leather wallet, its compartments stuffed with crisp bills. Heavy gold necklaces lay tangled together beside matching rings, each piece gleaming with the unmistakable richness of high-karat gold. A limited-edition watch rested nearby, its polished face catching the kitchen light with every slight movement. And a duffel bag overflowed with expensive perfumes, bottle after bottle worth more than most people's monthly salary.

A slow smile tugged at your lips as your gaze wandered over Jungkook's belongings scattered across the table.

You never told Hanni that you'd gotten caught. 

Instead, you let her believe everything had gone according to plan.

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

He had given you far more than you had ever planned on stealing.

Tucked beneath your bed, hidden inside an old shoebox, were stacks of cash and signed checks worth enough to keep you comfortable for a long while—buying you the time to find a better path for yourself.

You hadn't even told Hanni about them.

Not because you didn't trust her, but because you knew the moment she saw that kind of money, questions would follow. Questions you couldn't answer without admitting where it had come from. So you kept the cash hidden, the checks tucked safely beneath it, and carried the secret alone.

He still hadn't turned you over to the authorities, even though it was painfully obvious he'd known exactly what kind of person you were from the very beginning.

From the moment he'd let you reach for the clasp of his necklace, he'd already known.

No high-ranking police officer—especially not a captain…would've failed to notice what you were trying to do. He had seen through you from the very beginning, long before you'd ever managed to slip a single thing into your hands.

Why did he let you?

You smiled seductively, slipping the watch and wallet beneath your dress before taking another sip of your now-warm beer, your gaze lingering on your target, who was far too drunk to notice the way your attention had never truly been on him.

Perhaps you hadn't changed.

Because here you were, stealing again…chasing the same thrill, the same rush, while somewhere beneath every excuse you made for yourself, another reason quietly waited.

Maybe you wanted to see him again.

You left the crowded club with the stolen watch and wallet hidden beneath your dress, weaving through the lingering crowd until the music faded behind you. The cool night air greeted your flushed skin as you made your way toward the smoking area, where you and Hanni had agreed to meet.

You had been stealing for six months now. 

You managed to steal from a shopping mall, a restaurant, a boutique, and even a high-end store—your usual targets where men were rarely involved.

Tonight, you decided to try flirting again…attempting to seduce someone despite the fact that your only experience had been with him.

Before you could even pull out your phone to text Hanni, someone pushed you against the cold brick wall.

Familiar dark, round eyes stared back at you, the same pierced lips curled around a cigarette as smoke drifted lazily into the night. Tattooed arms caged you in on either side, leaving nowhere for you to go.

Your eyes widened.

Seeing him dressed in the crisp navy uniform of a police captain stole the air from your lungs. 

Gold captain's bars gleamed from the epaulets on his shoulders, while a polished metal badge rested proudly over his chest. His duty belt sat low around his waist, crowded with the familiar weight of handcuffs, a radio, holster, and the rest of the equipment that came with his authority. The neatly pressed fabric, the black tie tucked beneath the collar, the nameplate pinned above his pocket—it all transformed the man you remembered into someone far more intimidating.

Power looked infuriatingly good on him.

Before you could utter a single word, his left hand slipped under your dress. Your breath caught as his fingers found the watch and wallet strapped against your thigh with effortless precision.

“Looks like my baby didn't learn her lesson, hmm?”

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