do you have any bro’s best friend jk recs? i looked a bit through your acc and couldn’t find any but i apologize in advance if you’ve already posted smth along those lines !!
Brother's BestFriend au ~ Jeon Jungkook
⤷ ゛Chasing Cars by @oddinary4bts — Series | college au, when your brother goes to study abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate ˎˊ˗
⤷ ゛Falling Skies by @fortunexkookie — Series | Best friend's brother + enemies to lovers Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to consider him a friend, but then he went from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it gave you whiplash. ˎˊ˗
⤷ ゛Hold Me Close by @ahundredtimesover — Series | 41.8k, When you're asked to look after your parents' house, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take a trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager, you're still a professional trying not to disappoint her parents and that turns out to be your undoing. ˎˊ˗
⤷ ゛Clandestine by @junghelioseok — Series | Jeon Jungkook is the best friend of the reader's slightly younger brother. He's sexy, charismatic, and definitely knows what he wants. ˎˊ˗
⤷ ゛Milestone by @1kook — One-shot | Part of you is touched that Jungkook really has been there for every milestone in your life. The other part wishes he hadn’t shown up ˎˊ˗
⤷ ゛Brother's Best Friend by @kpopmultistanfanficarchive — One-shot | college au reader shares a college apartment with her brother, consequently also her boyfriend's best friend and they have to keep their secret relationship hidden ˎˊ˗
here are some in my TBR too, you can check out.
‧₊˚🖇️back to jungkook library 𐚁
‧₊˚🖇️back to the library 𐚁
you don't have to apologize dear, i haven't posted it. im sorry you had to search my account and couldn't find it but here it is anyways. happy reading.
↳ Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. Once upon a time, she had called you her sun and him her moon; it was fitting, given the constant push-and-pull between you two. You used to consider him a friend, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.
You often wondered how Jiyeon wasn’t bothered by his behavior. In fact, she often seemed to encourage it. What you failed to see was that she was just trying to show you how he reflected your light. Jiyeon had realized he was in love with you even before he did, but of course she knew. It was a twin thing.
So despite the fighting and teasing, you always found yourself drawn back to him. You knew he was one of two constants in your life: the Jeon twins were - and had always been - your one indisputable truth. You were the sun, Jungkook was the moon, and Jiyeon was the sky holding you both up When she died, it ripped a black hole right through you.
✫ Status: Falling Skies Main Series (Complete); Hoseok Spinoff Fic (Upcoming)
✫ Word Count: 50,055
✫ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Hoseok x OC (Jiyeon), brief Reader x OC, brief Reader x Namjoon, mentioned Reader x Taehyung
✫ Genre: Angst, Hurt & Comfort, Smut, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, (some) Humor, Pining, Jungkook is Whipped,
✫ Rating: 18+ - explicit smut in some chapters
✫ CW and other tags: character death, grief and coping, alcoholism, addiction recovery, suicidal ideation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, masturbation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, mirror sex, face sitting, face fucking, squirting, Dom!Jungkook, body worship, sub!Reader, pining, so much fucking pine it might as well be Christmas, two idiots are bad at feelings, brief violence mention, nurse!Jungkook, nurse!Reader
☼ Chapters ☽
✫ Prologue; One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six;
☼ Spinoff Drabbles ☽
✫ One (Jungkook); Two (Hoseok)
☼ Spinoff Fic ☽
✫ Falling Skies: Where the Chips Fall (Hoseok-centric; coming soon)
Jungkook’s newest obsession with vlogging turns into the two of you making your first sex tape together.
Pairing - jungkook x reader
Genre - 18+ established relationship au, smut MDNI
wc -3.3k
Warnings - filming sex ofc, lotss of kissing, pet names, big d jk, marking, biting, oral f. and m. receiving, dom jk, fingering, breast play, unprotected sex, crying, praises, riding, missionary, cumming on body, rough sex, overstimulation, some filthy cum play, they're jst really cutee ((
a/n - every time I think I’ve already written the most filthiest thing I could, I somehow come up with something even more ridiculous 😔 oh n I also plan to post one more fic by this week hopefully!!
The staff guides you to Jungkook’s room and leaves after opening the door for you. You gently push the door open and step inside to find Jin walking out from the living area. He breaks into a smile greeting you before telling how impatient Jungkook’s been waiting for you all day.
Your excitement dims a little when you realize your surprise clearly isn’t a surprise anymore making him laugh. He explains that Jungkook found out you were coming earlier in the morning from one of the staff.
You end up laughing while Jin leaves dramatically rambling about being fed up of Jungkook's camera. Needless to say that the world has been witnessing Jungkook’s current obsession in real time. For the past week he’s been recording absolutely everything.
Once the door clicks shut, you take off your shoes and sit on the edge of the bed.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens. Jungkook steps out wearing a black tank top and black shorts. His hair is a little damp, water droplets slide down his neck and toned arms.
He holds his camera in his left hand absentmindedly checking the screen.
The moment his eyes land on you, you stand up and practically run to him. Jungkook drops the camera onto the nearby couch and catches you as you jump into his arms wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Fuck baby, I was waiting for so long,” he breathes against your neck inhaling your scent.
“I wanted to surprise you,” you pout lightly. “Jin oppa told me you already knew I was coming today.”
Jungkook lets out a soft laugh and pulls back to look at your face.
“I can still act super surprised if you want."
You roll your eyes and your pout fades as he leans in and kisses you. The kiss quickly turns hungry as his lips move against yours with weeks of built-up longing.
Jungkook moves carrying you in his arms. One hand reaches out to place the camera on the stand in front of the bed, adjusting it quickly until it faces both of you properly.
A giggle slips from you immediately.
“New vlog?”
Jungkook grins against your lips.
"With your cameo.”
You shake your head fondly while he sits down on the edge of the bed with you straddling his lap. His hands slide down to grip your waist as the kiss grows nothing but more messier.
“I missed you so fucking much."
You pull back to reply the same. “I missed you too,” you take his cheeks between your hands before placing so many more of your kisses.
His hands roam around touching you everywhere. sliding down to grip your ass, then moving back up. “Your tour’s going really well,” you try speaking in between. “Everyone’s doing so good.”
Jungkook hums against your mouth, clearly distracted. His lips trail down to your neck sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks. you throw your head back, letting out a breathless moan.
His thumb brushes over your breasts, making you shiver.
and your eyes suddenly drift to the side.
“kook...” you breath out. “your camera..”
Jungkook slides his tongue deep into your mouth before pulling back to speak against it.
“What about it?”
Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You both know exactly what’s happening. although you trust Jungkook with your entire soul, the idea of being recorded like this makes nervousness and arousal swirl together inside you.
“You want me to stop it?”
His fingers remain under your top as he waits for your answer.
You bite your lower lip with a little hesitation, but the heat in his eyes and the way your body is aching for him takes over and you slowly shake your head. Jungkook’s smirk is pure sin as he bites your earlobe.
“Good girl."
His hands pull you down harder against his growing erection. mouth crashing back onto yours. you kiss him back just as desperately, your hands sliding up to grip his biceps, feeling his new muscles flex under your fingers.
You start grinding slowly on him. the thin fabric of your pants rubs against him and you can feel everything.
You know he isn’t wearing anything underneath because you can feel the outline of his cock rubbing perfectly against your clit through your clothes.
“fuck... I missed you,” Jungkook’s words come out husky against your lips. “missed you so fucking much, baby.”
wet sounds fill the room as your tongues slide together. his palm is hot against your waist. the other squeezes your ass harder, encouraging you to grind down on his cock.
Jungkook pulls back to tug your top up. You lift your arms for him and he yanks it off. His eyes drop to your chest and his dick twitches at the sight of you wearing his new design.
He curses deeply as his eyes darken the more he takes you in. “You planning to kill me, princess?”
Your breathless laugh quickly turns into a surprised gasp as Jungkook flips you over—caging you in with his arms like you're his prey.
His mouth finds your neck much rougher this time. marking across all over your throat and collarbones.
You squeak with a small laugh when he bites a little too roughly on your shoulder.
“Koo—!” you gasp, half-laughing, half-moaning.
Jungkook chuckles against your skin but doesn’t stop. He soothes the bite with his tongue while his hands slide up to squeeze over your covered breasts.
“You look so fucking good in my design,” he speaks with dripping need. “But I want it off soon.”
He palms your pussy roughly through your pants, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit. The pressure makes you jerk against him.
“jungkoo—” your voice already breaks.
He hums in satisfaction while kissing down your body. His lips trail open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, tongue dipping into your belly button before moving even lower. His fingers hook into the waistband of your pants and tug them down.
“Look at this mess,” he eyes the large wet patch soaking through your panties. He leans down to press a torturous kiss right over your aching pussy.
“Tell me how much you missed me, baby.”
You whimper desperately. “so much, kook... please… I missed you so much.”
Just as the words leave your mouth, Jungkook rips your panties down your legs before diving in immediately like a starved man.
The first long lick from your entrance to your clit makes you moan loudly. his tongue laps at your soaked folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. The metal of his piercing adds a delicious sensation sending shockwaves through your body with every flick.
Jungkook eats you like he’s addicted. pushing in his tongue inside you. your thighs shake around his head as his deep groans vibrate against your core.
your eyes suddenly drift to the side and rush of embarrassment hits you but this time it only makes you wetter.
you almost whine at the loss of his mouth when Jungkook pulls back with lips and chin glistening with your arousal.
He returns back with his camera, placing it in your hands and adjusting it so the lens faces him between your spread legs.
“Hold it steady for me,” he instructs you before settling back.
your hands tremble slightly as you grip the camera. your pussy clenches visibly under his gaze.
Jungkook smirks at your nervousness before diving back in. his mouth latches onto your pussy again with a new vigour.
He circles his tongue over your swollen clit slowly while he looks straight into the camera lens. and you make the mistake of looking down at the filthy scene. the sight only makes your pussy gush fresh slick onto his tongue.
You moan loudly, struggling to keep the camera steady. The pleasure is too intense as your arms start shaking.
Jungkook pulls back slightly before growling at you, “I told you to hold it steady, baby. I need good footage of me eating this pretty pussy.”
He slaps your thigh lightly as a teasing punishment before pushing two thick fingers inside you, curling instantly against your g-spot while his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit.
A few tears slip down your eyes.
“Kook— ahh— I can’t— fuck!”
“Yes you can,” he chuckles darkly against your fold.
As his fingers pump faster, your thighs tremble violently around his head. you’re barely able to keep the camera focused on him with the pleasure making your vision blur. your back arches sharply off the bed, pussy clenching hard around his fingers. Jungkook groans in satisfaction completely lost in your taste.
He laps at every drop of your release drinking you down greedily.
You try to close your legs.
“koo— too much—”
Jungkook lets out an almost angry groan against your pussy and forcefully spreads your legs wider. his mouth continues making sure he gets every last drop.
Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure as broken moans keep spilling from your lips. Only when your body starts twitching hard does Jungkook finally pull back.
He places one last tender kiss on your sensitive clit before lifting his head.
He rises onto his knees between your spread legs and tugs his black tank top off before wiping his chin with it and tossing aside. You try focusing your teary eyes on him.
Jungkook takes the camera from your shaky hands and places it on the bed for a moment. He leans down to kiss you deeply.
“You good, baby?” he asks softly against your lips.
You hum weakly in response. your hands roam over his bare torso, feeling the hard ridges of his abs.
“You’ve gained more muscles…” you whisper out.
Jungkook hums darkly and you feel him flexing his body under your touch.
“You like it?” his eyes locks on yours.
You bite your lip and lean up to biting his jaw in response. “so much..”
Jungkook chuckles as his hands work to remove your bra leaving you completely bare for him. Jungkook’s hands are back on the camera as he sits on his heels between your legs and angles the lens towards your flushed face.
“Is this good, my love?”
You suddenly feel extremely exposed under the camera’s gaze. Your cheeks heat up instantly. You give him a weak nod unable to speak properly.
Jungkook’s expression softens with pure fondness while his eyes stay dark on you.
“You’re really shy about the camera, huh?”
He reaches out with his free hand and gently strokes your flushed cheek with his thumb then drags it to press against your bottom lip, slightly pulling it down.
“So cute,” he murmurs almost to himself.
Jungkook can't resist but place some loving pecks on your cheeks making you both giggle.
“Say hi to my vlog, baby,” he teases.
You whine shyly, trying to turn your face away. Jungkook breathes out a laugh before cupping one of your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh before his fingers find your already hardened nipple. He rolls it between his thumb and forefinger.
Your eyes flutter shut instinctively, teeth sinking into your lower lip to trap the moan threatening to spill out.
“Don’t hide those pretty eyes from me.”
You eyes lift to meet his intense stare, the moment you do—he brings his hand to his mouth spitting onto his fingers letting a generous amount of saliva coat them before returning his hand to your chest. He spreads the slickness over both buds, coating and tugging them between his wet fingers making your back arch off the bed.
Your legs squirm restlessly beneath him, thighs pressing together as fresh heat floods your core.
His eyes flick down between your legs, watching the way your pussy glistens under the light.
“You like how I ruin you, don’t you?” he rasps with dark satisfaction.
His thumb eventually leaves your nipple and slides up to your mouth. He presses the pad of it against your lips.
You part your lips as he pushes his thumb inside and immediately start sucking on it—swirling your tongue around the digit like you would his cock.
“So fucking greedy for me,” Jungkook hisses.
The sight of you sucking so eagerly on his thumb while your nipples are shiny and swollen from his spit has his cock throbbing painfully in his sweats.
Your eyes drift down his body to his bulge straining against his shorts.
with a needy whimper, you pull him down by his broad shoulders onto the bed. He lets out a surprised chuckle and you climb over him kissing down his body. Your lips press against his warm skin. You trail wet kisses over his chest, paying extra attention to the beautiful tattoos decorating his skin.
Your tongue traces the lines of his ink, tasting the faint salt of his sweat.
God, you wish you could mark him the way he marks you — leave dark hickeys and bite marks all over his perfect body for everyone to see. but for now, you make up for it by worshipping him with your mouth, determined to make him feel as good as he made you.
Jungkook’s free hand comes to rest in your hair as you move further down.
finally, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his shorts and tug them down impatiently. His cock springs free, slapping against his toned stomach. The pink tip glistens with precum.
You wrap your lips around the leaking head and suck, too impatient to tease him. Jungkook curses sharply. Your favourite musky taste of him explodes on your tongue and you moan louder around his cock.
You take him deeper right away, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head, working the top half of his length with eager sounds.
Jungkook’s head falls back for a second, momentarily forgetting about the camera in his hand. But he quickly recovers, lifting it again and angling it perfectly to capture the sinful sight of his beautiful girlfriend sucking his cock so greedily.
“shit, baby.. look at you,” he groans. “always fucking hungry for my cock.”
His praises only makes you take him deeper until he hits the back of your throat.
Jungkook’s hand tightens in your hair guiding you as he pushes your head down a little more. The pressure makes you gag around him.
“that’s it.. fuck — just like that,” his abs clenching as he watches you through the camera. “my good girl. looking so pretty crying on my cock.”
He starts to thrust up gently, fucking into your warm mouth.
your tears mix with the spit dripping from your chin onto his balls but you don’t stop — you can’t. You want all of him.
Jungkook’s cock twitches in your mouth, the veins pulsing against your tongue. you can feel him getting dangerously close.
but he pulls your head back firmly. a thick string of spit connects your swollen lips to the shiny head of his cock as you gasp for air.
“I need to feel you, baby.. get up here.”
You don’t need to be told twice. while he quickly reaches over and places the camera on the nightstand beside the bed, angling it perfectly to capture both of you, you're already climbing over him.
Your hand wraps around his spit-slick cock, stroking him once before you sink on him. you both moan in unison. Jungkook hisses through gritted teeth biting onto your shoulder.
you whimper, feeling every thick inch stretch you open. He’s so big — always so fucking big that it burns in the most delicious way.
Impatience and pure need take over as you start bouncing on his cock with a desperate rhythm. The slick smack of your soaked pussy taking his cock over and over fills the room.
He pulls you down harder against him, pressing your chests together until your bodies are completely stuck — skin against sweaty skin, your hard nipples rubbing against his chest.
“Give me a kiss.”
You lean in messily, crashing your mouth onto his. moans spill into each other’s mouths. Jungkook thrusts up hard from below, meeting your bounces with powerful strokes that make you cry out into the kiss.
He fucks you like that, reaching you so deep while you ride him like you’re starved for his cock.
Jungkook’s hands slide down to grip your ass, spreading your cheeks as he helps you bounce harder.
He bites into your bottom lip.
“My beautiful baby.. keep riding my cock, princess.”
You clench hard around him, a loud broken moan ripping from your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes through you. The way he’s stretching you and filling you so perfectly just makes your mind go hazy.
Jungkook growls at the feeling and he flips you over with ease. your back hits the mattress before your boyfriend intertwines your fingers and resumes with his rough thrusts.
Your legs wrap weakly around his narrow waist trying to pull him even deeper.
“This pussy is made for me. You are made for me... only for me.”
Your heels dig into his back as he fucks you straight into oblivion.
Jungkook swallows every single moan that spills from your lips. His tongue dominating yours while he rails you into the mattress.
“Tell me, baby,” he demands hotly. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You, Kook—” you sob. “Only for you... only yours—”
“That’s right.”
Your nails dig desperately into the back of his hands. His free hand slides between your bodies finding your swollen clit.
Your eyes roll back as you fall apart again. Your pussy throbs with creamy arousal gushing around his length with a broken scream of his name.
His thrusts become more erratic as he chases his high.
Jungkook blindly reaches for the camera with one hand angling it down at your stomach.
“Fuck.. look at that." He presses his free hand over the bulge in your lower belly feeling his own cock moving inside you. “So pretty, baby. so fucking pretty with my cock inside you.”
He records himself sliding in and out of you slowly glistening with your arousal.
The overstimulation makes you whimper and squirm heavily underneath him. only then does he finally pull out of you.
He kneels between your spread thighs, wrapping his hand around his cock. He strokes himself roughly eyes locked on your fucked-out face.
with a husky groan thick ropes of his warm cum shoot across your stomach and tits — painting your skin in sticky white.
You barely have time to process the filthy sight while Jungkook films himself dragging the swollen head of his cock through his own release, spreading it messily over your skin.
He rubs his cum into your nipple and across your belly — dipping the tip of his cock between your sensitive folds to smear some over your clit.
You watch him with hazy eyes and a heaving chest.
Sometimes you forget just how nasty your boyfriend can really be.
“Such a pretty canvas." Jungkook finally looks up at you through the camera lens with a wild smirk.
jungkook x you (femreader) | 3.3k words
summary – spotting jungkook’s weight session in your home gym. harmless, right?
rating – 18+ (sex, course language)
a//n – this one is by far my favourite.
masterlist
The soft, distant thrum of music playing was the only sound travelling through your otherwise peaceful home. You had set yourself up for a quiet afternoon with a glass of iced tea, catching up on work that you’d missed while travelling to a couple of tour dates, watching your boyfriend do his thing. Jungkook always gave you the VIP treatment, making sure your time away from your life was worth it and of course it was. But nothing could beat having him back at home in Seoul, lazily enjoying the time you had alone together.
Just as you settled into the couch, an almost finished lemon popsicle in hand and your laptop steadied on your lap, you heard your name being called from the other end of the house. The voice echoing through the hallway belonged to Jungkook and there was a part of you that wanted to pretend like you hadn't heard him, feeling way too comfy and in the zone to get up again if it wasn’t important.
That was until you heard your name again, a little louder this time and you knew that you couldn’t ignore him. Your man was persistent and even though you loved your time with him during the break and over the off-season, it did become apparent that when he was home, he always wanted you close by to talk to. Like he was trying to make up for lost time but he forgot that even though he had time off, your work life continued much to your dismay.
But you were both working on finding the right balance.
"Where are you?" You shouted back and pulled yourself out of your spot on the couch, on a mission to track down your needy but ridiculously cute boyfriend.
You followed the music, figuring that he must’ve been in the home gym he’d set up a couple of winters ago. A Leon Thomas album was playing through the sound system, echoing off the mirrors that lined the otherwise blank walls. It was a messy sight as you walked in – yoga mats that you’d left behind sprawled out on the ground while Jungkook sat hunched over, scrolling on his phone with his legs hanging over each side of the bench press that was sitting in the middle of the naturally lit room.
He was quick to notice your presence in the doorway and chucked his phone onto one of the many towels neatly folded up on the shelf behind him.
"Could you spot me, please? Because I nearly killed myself with this weight."
You swear you were listening but you couldn’t help but take a second to drink in his appearance, suddenly feeling a hot flush wash over your chest. He was sans shirt, tattoos on full display and glistening with sweat, which would’ve been enough to fuel your desires but the tight short shorts and the hair sticking to his forehead was what really got the endorphins running. And as much as you could’ve stared at him for the rest of your days, the last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to notice how flustered you were by his appearance.
"If that thing is going to fall on your face, there's no way my twig arms are going to stop it," You scoffed, eyeing at the weights behind his head with concern.
"You just have to push it off me so it doesn't crush my chest," He shrugged with a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, far too nonchalantly for your liking.
"Oh right – just casually save my boyfriend from being crushed to death. Cool…" You sarcastically retorted while Jungkook wiped his hands on his shorts and scooted underneath the bar, back squeaking as it stuck to the faux leather.
"Just come and stand behind my head, honey," He sweetly directed and you sighed softly, knowing that he was going to keep lifting the stupid thing anyway and you would much rather be there if anything did happen.
So you shuffled around to where he’d settled himself on the bench, feet and shoulders with the part, ready to save the day if you needed to. Well, kind of ready because the view from where you were standing was not only magnificent but wildly distracting.
“That’s it, baby,” He whispered with the smallest of smirks tickling his lips.
Jungkook’s strong hands gripped the bar and lifted it carefully off the stand, flickering his eyes to each side and making sure they were securely off before bringing it down towards his tensed chest. The grunts that left his throat as the muscles and veins in his arms bulged under his taut skin sounded exactly like the noises he was breathing in your ear last night as he fucked you into the next dimension, the sound immediately transporting you back to the way his hands felt on your skin.
His tight chest puffed out in time with his sharp hips that bucked off the bench with each rep and the groans leaving his lips were making it difficult to keep an eye on the job, even though a part of you wondered whether this was all a ploy to get you in here and see this glorified soft core in session. Knowing Jungkook, it was almost definitely the latter.
"Okay two more," He huffed out, lifting the bar up and down a couple more times, concentration stitched into his sticky forehead.
The grunts got louder the closer he was to finishing the set, again casting your mind back to your night between the sheets, before he slowly pushed it up towards the stand and let your fingers hook around the bar, just in case it slipped out of his slick hands. Because every part of his body was perspiring – his biceps, thighs, neck, chest, the bridge of his nose that was achingly close to your core was glistening and so were you, from doing absolutely nothing. Dripping.
Jungkook sat up with a groan and took a couple of deep breaths, blood pumping through his veins as you watched the muscles on his rippling back contract, “You’re soaked – let me grab you a towel.”
This was your chance to try and shake the daze you were in. It was pathetic the way he wound you up without even knowing, hypnotising you with something as innocent as a workout. Maybe it was because you had been blissfully enjoying each other’s touch the second he dropped his luggage in the doorway, jumping into bed and hardly leaving it ever since.
Or because he was the sexiest creature you’d ever seen and seeing him gleaming with sweat and groaning like an animal was a massive turn on for you. Either way you were soaking after his performance, desperate to have those sounds breathing down your neck as soon as humanely possible.
He graciously took the towel you were offering with a wicked smile, wiping his flushed face and roughly drying his dark hair before spinning around 90 degrees on the bench, gazing up at you with the same smile but now with that devious sparkle in his eye that always had you hook, line and sinker.
"Thank yoooou."
It rolled off his tongue too perfectly, almost in sing-song, and you couldn’t control the eye roll, knowing how much he loved teasing you. He also loved how quickly he could get you naked when he put on that mischievous smirk, his charm always leaving you spellbound.
"Any time," You sang in reply, attempting to leave the room before you combusted on sight but you were stopped by a fistful of fingers grasping the hem of your black cotton shorts.
Jungkook gently pulled you back, a hole already burnt into the material from his eyes zeroing in on your curves. He loved every inch of you, worshipped the air you breathed and pinched himself daily that you’d stuck around with his crazy stupid schedule and maniacal whims. God, he adored you and ached at how effortlessly beautiful you looked in your matching crop top and tracksuit pants, waltzing around the home you had created together.
And he couldn’t hide the way he felt when you looked around, bottom lip clamped loosely between his front teeth, chewing the inside of his cheek and admiring how fucking lucky he was to have such a beautiful creature in his grasp. Heaven sent.
"You look very cute today."
He was smitten; holding your hips in place as you slung your arms around his shoulders. His hands subconsciously trailed down to the back of your thighs and teased the thin hem on your shorts, fingertips melting into the skin like butter as he watched your gorgeously bright eyes narrow.
"I'm not wearing a bra just for you," You flirted, nudging closer to his chest and needing more than just the heat from his hands on your skin.
"I can see that," He hummed matter-of-factly as he gazed over the sheer top that had been driving him crazy all day, adoring the way your nipples hardened at his stare before pressing a peck to the bottom of your sternum.
Jungkook continued trailing soft kisses across your stomach as you brought your hands to his tousled hair, trawling your fingertips through the damp locks and massaging his scalp. A soft, barely audible whimper slipped from his lips as he tilted his head back and caught your eyes, succumbing to the drowsiness and closing them for a quiet moment.
"That feels so nice."
He practically whispered before opening his eyes and pulling you closer with his hands that were now hidden under your loose top, fingertips following the arch of your spine as you leaned down and captured his soft lips. He tasted salty, tongue deliciously warm as you explored his mouth with your own. You loved the way he inhaled you and swallowed the moans he was causing. The intimacy you shared with him never ceased to make you weak in the knees, putty in his hands.
"I wanna watch you fuck me in this mirror."
Your words were muttered against his pursed lips and Jungkook’s eyes were wider than a flying saucer when you pulled back ever so slightly, noses bumping together from how close you still were. He huffed out a soft laugh as you nodded towards the mirrors lining the walls around you both, eyeing your reflection beside him.
"Really?" He asked incredulously, a humorous expression ascending onto his blushing cheeks as you returned the raised brow, confused by his question.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" You scoffed, the deadpan look never faltering from your face and causing his goofy smile to fall; finally realising you were being serious.
"Well... no you don't but... Do you want me to do you against the mirror or on here?" Jungkook asked frowning down at the bench before bouncing up and down on it to make sure it was sturdy enough for your spontaneous demand.
"I don't really care," You almost moaned, smoothing your hands across his strong chest and over his tense shoulders, leaning down and pressing your lips to his damp neck again, "I just need you."
"I don't wanna risk breaking this because it was the last one at the shop so I guess we could do it against the mirrors…”
The consideration in his voice caused your brows to furrow in disappointment and your hands to drop from his shoulders as you stood up straight, looking down at your boyfriend with a frown. It was unlike Jungkook to not be jumping for joy at your suggestion, but although he was impulsive and spontaneous, he was also pragmatic. The duality of the man still surprises you.
"Jeez, don't get too excited about it."
The sarcasm was dripping from your tone as Jungkook shook his head fervently, quickly reaching out to pull you back. All he could think about daily was making love to you in different places in the house and shockingly, the home gym hadn’t been ticked off the list but god, he wanted to. He was already twitching thinking about it, the tightness of his shorts already cutting off circulation to his legs.
"No, no. Baby, look at you – I am so excited but you caught me off guard and I was just trying to think… what’s the word? Logically… Logistically…”
"It’s logistically but Kook – you called me in here and made me watch you gyrating and making sex noises, and then you told me I look cute and now you're caught off guard that I want to have sex with you?... Are you okay?" You joked, pressing the back of your hand against Jungkook’s sticky forehead, pretending to check if he had a temperature or if he even had a pulse at all.
He laughed, borderline giggled and shook his head, "Well, when you say it like that, it makes sense. I just didn't think you'd get turned on over that."
You couldn't help but laugh in his face at his assumption, "You're shirtless and sweaty and wearing shorts that are so tight that I can see your dick... There's no way you didn't think this would get me going."
You wagged your finger up and down his body and Jungkook simply shrugged, hardening by the second, "It didn't even cross my mind but if it's making you feel like that then let's fucking go!"
He slapped his hands down on his lap and immediately reached for the drawstring on your pants. “These are definitely coming off…” He murmured, eyes narrowed in concentration as he slid them down your legs.
"I promise if we break the bench, I will personally call every single shop in Seoul and replace it.”
You stepped out of the cotton material around your ankles, grasping Kooks’ shoulders for balance as he tugged on his own shorts; finally liberating himself of the constriction caused by his own unadulterated arousal. He had no self control when it came to you.
"Jeez, you are horny," He teased as you climbed on top of him; his tactile hands guiding your knees to each side of his thighs with a devilish grin.
He was in his element with you on top of him; he had the perfect view of his girl and could feel how ready you were for him when you rested on his thigh, your slickness cool against his soft skin. He loved how dialled in you were to his touch, every little wince or mumble making his heart pound harder in his chest – blood rushing to his dick every time you whispered in his ear.
But he knew that you knew how much he craved having you like this so of course he teased you in spirited retaliation, like any man desperately in love does to the one he adores the most.
“You know that if you ever need to get some inspiration, you can always come in and watch me work out, baby. You like it, huh?”
"I do and I intend to enjoy this so shut up."
Now he was really hard, worked up beyond his limits.
As a distraction from his edge, he went back to what he did best – kissing you. You were both as pent up as each other, embarrassingly desperate for two people who had been going at it all weekend but you couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t until the firm grip on your hips tightened even more that you finally felt how enthusiastic he was about fucking you in his gym.
"You taste like lemons," Jungkook mumbled as your tongues collided.
You couldn’t mask the smirk on your lips as he kissed you again, reaching down and massaging him over his boxer briefs. You pulled away slightly from the kiss, ghosting his swollen lips as you softly stroked him in your hand.
"I bet if you'd seen me eating that lemon popsicle, you would've felt the same way as I did watching you lift these stupid weights," and Jungkook chuckled at your annoyingly accurate theory, his warm breath fanning over your face before seizing your lips again. God, he loved kissing you.
"I probably wouldn’t have lasted, let's be honest," He whispered back with a knowing smile, completely unashamed to be enamoured by the woman slowly stoking him, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure surging through his body.
“Maybe next time, sweetheart.”
Kook simply smiled, eyes barely open as he watched your bodies connecting in the most intimate way, tongue quickly swiping across his bottom lip in preparation for your kiss. As you gripped him tight in your hand and bottomed out on his achingly hard cock, you pressed your lips to his own, forced to swallow the loud moan falling from your lips.
You whimpered before a sharp inhale caused Jungkooks’ eyes to shoot up to your closed ones, searching your face for any pain.
"You good?" He asked softly but swiftly with his hands firmly placed on the outside of your thighs, gently holding you in place until you gave him the okay to move his hips.
"So good," You breathed, tilting your neck back and arching your spine to change the angle a little, feeling that sweet spot deep inside you being brushed ever so gently, “You feel amazing right there.”
Once you both hit that toe curling, achingly good rhythm that you had perfected together, Kook rested his chin on your shoulder and watched how mind-numbingly hot you looked riding him in the mirror, his big tattooed hands firmly grabbing your ass and spreading you out like a meal he was desperate to devour.
"My god..." He growled as you looked down and followed his eye line, biting your puffy bottom lip when you realised he was watching himself disappear inside you, every inch taken care of. And you too, were groaning at the sight.
“You look gorgeous riding my cock, baby.”
"We look so sexy," You were quick to correct, breathless from both the sight of Jungkook’s large, veiny hands leaving prints on your backside and his relentlessness to have you losing your goddamned mind on his dick.
Both had you twisted in knots, the pit in your stomach tightening with every thrust and all you could do was thank whoever had invented weight training because boy, were you reaping the benefits now. Sex in your home gym – tick.
+ + +
“Soooo,” Jungkook drawled, a smug smile lacing every syllable.
The workout afternoon delight that had you and Jungkook panting and sending echoed moans through an otherwise silent house had required a change in location after one too many “deadlifts”. Maybe the bench press wasn’t up to the challenge but you took the risk, knowing the consequences and it was an accident, of course, one waiting to happen according to the man brushing his warm fingertips down your spine; the unspoken promise you made hanging in the thick air.
“When are you going to replace my bench press, huh?”
A grumble fell from your lips at his leading question, head buried in a pillow and still coming down from the high that had sent your mind, body and spirit into orbit. Your tired eyes caught his glimmering with humour, tickled that you were now responsible for buying him a new bench, in Seoul no less.
“But my Korean is so bad…”
Jungkooks’ soft laugh sifted through your ears, his giggle showing his hand and now you knew that this was his plan all along. He was the reason it broke, not you. He was the one who insisted on fucking you faster, harder, deeper until your legs were shaking and he had the neighbours downstairs questioning whether there was an earthquake warning for the city. He had you on all fours, rocking back on his dick like your life depended on it, loosening you and apparently every screw on the frame below. Screaming out for mercy.
And now he had the audacity to look at you with those mischievous doe eyes that had gotten you both in trouble more times than you could count, thrilled that you would have to fumble your way through a phone call for him. So instead of picking up your phone, you pulled Kook down into a deep kiss, distracting your sweet boyfriend until he was a moaning mess again.
The broken bench press was a problem for another day.
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(complete; 670,676 words)
➝ Police officer!Jungkook x Childhood Friend Single Mom OC
Getting into a bar fight is the least surprising part of Isabella’s return home. She sure doesn’t expect to run into her childhood friend turned high school enemy, now not just surprisingly a law-abiding citizen but a police officer. Things seem to be going great for him, but Isabella is struggling with more than a bar fight. A single mom with a sick grandmother, an alcoholic mother, an abusive ex, and a short fuse herself, matters are not helped that Jungkook seems to be everywhere. All the time. Especially every time Isabella messes up. Can she really believe him when he says he just wants to help?
Read on AO3 | Read Chapter 1 on Tumblr
See ao3 tags for content warnings
⟹ Footnotes & Afterthoughts
➝ Ongoing collection of one shots related to Amended, may focus on side characters/pairings
Read all on AO3 | Read on Tumblr:
- JK & Isabella are ready for a baby
- They learn the sex of their baby
- Hallowen Night: Zombie Parents Edition
- An Afternoon with Namjoon & Sylvie
- Wisdom (Teeth) Lost
- Taehyung & Kristin: Friends
- Pregnancy Announcement #1
- A Domestic Morning
- JK & Lily: Ready to Roll
- Welcome to the World, Kai
- The Milk Murders
- Baby Depot
- Suds & Sprinklers
^ Right now these are in order written, not chronological order but once I get another couple written I'll put together a chronolical order list if you'd prefer to read that way
⤷one-shot!! in which.... jungkook shows up every Friday for six months to ask your father for permission to marry you, and gets rejected every time. Still, he returns each week with flowers, pastries, and stubborn determination. Meanwhile, you have no idea your boyfriend has been secretly trying to “apply” for the role of your husband behind your back.
I'm gonna marry her anyway (Magic!-Rude)
pairing: 전정국 x fem!reader
Genre: romance | slice of life | comedy | fluff | bittersweet
warnings: jk is down baddd, he's SOO in love, jk's a bit delusional tho, peak romance trope btw, he loves to pamper y/n, he would do everything all again without question, crying, happy tears, respectfully he wont give up, Jungkook is the sweetest
word count: 7.2k
Every Friday at Four
If someone asked you to describe your boyfriend, you would probably say something annoyingly sweet.
Kind. Talented. Loyal.
The sort of person who remembers the name of the stray cat that lives behind your apartment building, not only he remembers it but buys extra cat food and leaves it out in little dishes. The sort of person who buys two of everything because he knows you'll steal half of his anyway, and he'd rather plan for the theft than risk you going without. The sort of person who texts "Did you eat?" at 2 PM and then again at 6 PM and then again at 9 PM, and actually waits for an answer each time, and sends follow-up questions if you take too long, "What did you eat?" and "Was it good?"
What you would not say is: "My boyfriend spends his Friday afternoons getting rejected by my father."
Mostly because you don't know what's happening, and sweet Jungkook intends to keep it that way.
The first time he drives to your parents' house, he almost turns the car around.
Three times… scratch that…actually, four.
The fourth time is especially embarrassing because he has already parked. The engine is off. The keys are in his hand. He's committed, and yet his hand keeps drifting toward the ignition like it has its own agenda, like it wants to go home.
He sits behind the steering wheel, staring at your childhood home. The house itself isn't scary. It's just a house with white walls that need repainting. A small garden where your mother has beautiful flowers. A blue mailbox that has your last name on it with faded stickers that are peeling at the edges. Normal things.
Unfortunately, your father lives inside, and your father is terrifying. Not in a dramatic movie way, he doesn't threaten people or is part of the mafia, and he definitely doesn't own weapons or has a scar across his face.
It’s the fact that he looks at people the way professors look at exam papers, as if he's found three mistakes in the first paragraph and is debating whether he should continue reading or just fail you now and save him some time.
Jungkook swallows. His palms are sweating against the steering wheel. This is ridiculous… What if your father hates him? What if he laughs? What if he says no?
Then you'll ask again.
He grabs the box of pastries from the passenger seat and gets out before his courage disappears completely.
The door opens, and your father appears. For a moment, nobody says anything. The silence stretches and Jungkook becomes suddenly, painfully aware of every part of his body. He bows politely. The low and respectful kind of bow that says I come in peace, I mean no harm, please don't destroy me.
The silence grows longer, and our dear Jungkook begins wondering if people can die from awkwardness. If that's a medical condition, and if he should have written a will. Your father stares, Jungkook bows a little deeper. His back protesting.
Finally, your father speaks. "Did my daughter send you?"
"No, sir." Jungkook's voice comes out steady.
A pause. Your father's eyes narrow slightly, scanning him like he's reading a label. "Did something happen to her?"
"No, sir."
"Then why are you here?"
Jungkook suddenly forgets every sentence he prepared during the drive. All those carefully constructed arguments inside his overthinker mind, all those practiced phrases…gone, evaporated.
Wonderful
He manages a nervous smile. It feels crooked on his face, too big, too desperate. "I wanted to talk to you."
Your father doesn't move. "About?"
For a fleeting second, Jungkook considers pretending he came to discuss the weather. The weather is safe, but unfortunately for him, that would make even less sense than his actual reason, and also, he's pretty sure your father can smell lies the way other people smell smoke.
"Sir, I love your daughter."
Your father blinks a few times. "Oh."
Jungkook nods. Encouraged. Maybe this is going well. Maybe the hard part is over. Maybe…it is not going well.
"That's unfortunate," your father says, and steps aside to let him in.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Five minutes later, they're sitting at the kitchen table.
Jungkook has never seen such an intimidating kitchen before. Everything is clean and organized. He is afraid to touch anything. Your father places a cup of tea in front of him. The gesture is kind, but the expression on your father's face is not kind. Not in a malicious way, it’s the expression of someone who has watched young men come and go from this exact house, who has learned that most of them are not worth the time it takes to memorize their names. Jungkook suddenly understands where you inherited your stubbornness from.
"So," your father says.
"So," Jungkook echoes, and he immediately hates himself for echoing. He's not a parrot. He's a grown man. He has tattoos. He pays taxes, and he should be able to handle a conversation without turning into a robot.
"You love my daughter."
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
Why? Because you're funny, because you laugh with your entire body, throwing your head back, because you cry during movies and then deny it, because you pretend not to like affection and attention and then complain when he stops giving it, which is confusing and annoying and completely endearing, because loving you happened so naturally he didn't notice it until he was already too deep in love with you.
He clears his throat. All of this is too much to say to your father. "She's amazing," Jungkook says.
Your father's face remains unreadable. "That's your argument?"
Jungkook panics. His brain, which had just started working again, shuts down completely. "No, sir."
"Good."
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
An hour later, Jungkook has somehow been interviewed more thoroughly than a job applicant for a position that requires government clearance.
Career plans. Finances. Future goals. Emergency savings. Apartment size. Life insurance. Retirement planning. Your father asks about his parents, his siblings, his thoughts on home ownership versus renting, his opinion on private schools versus public schools for hypothetical future children that Jungkook is definitely not ready to discuss but finds himself discussing anyway because when your father asks a question, answering feels mandatory.
At one point, your father asks what kind of husband he intends to be. Jungkook answers honestly. It's the only answer he has, the only one he's sure of. "The best one I can."
Something shifts in your father's expression, only for a second. Maybe it was approval…or pity…or maybe even indigestion. Who knows…Then comes the final question and the most important one.
The reason Jungkook is here, sweating through his nice shirt
His heartbeat speeds up. He sits straighter, tries to look like the kind of man who deserves what he's about to ask for.
"Sir."
Your father waits. He knows what's coming. Jungkook can see it in the set of his shoulders and the slight tilt of his head.
"I want to marry her."
Your father folds his hands and looks directly at him.
And says:
"No."
Like he was declining extra napkins. Like Jungkook had offered him a flyer for a kebab place he wasn't interested in. Like this whole hour meant absolutely nothing.
Jungkook stares. Surely there's more, surely there's a ‘but’ or an ‘unless’ or a ‘however’ waiting in the air, ready to step on stage and save this moment from being exactly what it sounds like.
There isn't.
Your father takes another sip of tea.
Jungkook blinks. His mouth feels dry. His ears are ringing. "Sir?"
"No."
"I understand, but—"
"No."
"Can I ask why?"
Your father nods. "You can."
Jungkook waits. Your father waits too.
Nothing happens.
"...Why?"
"Because I said no."
Jungkook nearly laughs. Not because it's funny, but because otherwise he might cry, and he's pretty sure crying in your father's kitchen would be the final nail in a coffin that's already been nailed shut, buried, and had a parking lot built over it.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
The drive home feels longer. His pride aches took, his heart too…everything aches, actually, in a way that makes him wonder if this is what adulthood feels like. He should probably be upset, and angry, and embarrassed that he poured his heart out to a man who responded with a single syllable.
But Jungkook finds himself smiling, a small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth while he waits at a red light because beneath the frustration is something unexpected.
Your father didn't laugh or mock him or send him out, and he didn’t tell Jungkook to find someone else’s daughter to love and cherish. He didn't say Jungkook wasn't good enough, wasn't successful enough, wasn't worthy. He just said 'no', and then he said it again, and then he kept saying it until Jungkook ran out of questions. He smiles because for two whole hours, he listened.
And Jungkook overthinks about it… a man doesn't spend two hours questioning someone he doesn't care about. A father doesn't interrogate a future son-in-law candidate unless the answer matters… unless the person sitting across from him is a real possibility.
‘No’ wasn't the end.
Jungkook glances at the road ahead, next Friday isn't far away. Five days, six hours, maybe less if he leaves work early. He can survive five days. He can survive anything if there's a chance at the end of it.
That evening, you're both sprawled across his couch, casually stealing fries from his plate. Your own plate sits untouched, still full, but you keep reaching for his anyway. Not because they're any different, just because they're his. This is the thing that you always do, and Jungkook loves it; it’s predictable and is exactly what he wants to come home to, exactly what he's fighting for.
Jungkook watches you. You glance up, caught, a fry halfway to your mouth.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Suspicious. Very suspicious. You narrow your eyes, and he sees your father in you for just a moment.
"What are you smiling about?"
He shakes his head. He can't tell you. Not yet. Not until he has something real to offer, something earned, something that proves he's serious. "Nothing."
You throw a fry at him. It bounces off his forehead and lands in his lap. You look proud, as if you've accomplished something significant, and your boyfriend laughs. Suddenly, the rejection doesn't feel so heavy anymore, because at the end of the day, every difficult conversation leads back to this. To you, to the future he's trying to build, one Friday at a time.
Jungkook picks up another fry. You steal that one too, quick as a cat, and he lets you. He doesn't even try to stop you. He watches you eat it, watches you chew, and for now, he lets you.
After all, he has bigger battles waiting for him next Friday. And the Friday after that. And however many it takes until your father finally says yes.
Now, 6 Months later
You are folding laundry when your phone buzzes against the coffee table, skittering like an insect that can't decide where to die. It's a text from him.
jk: Still at work, might be late for dinner, don't wait up
You smile because, of course, he is. He's always at work, or the gym, or somewhere building his body while you eat instant noodles in sweatpants that have a hole in the left thigh. (no shame)
What you don't know is that your boyfriend is not at work. Your boyfriend is currently sitting in his car in front of your parents' house. He's been here before. Many times. 6 months of Fridays, to be exact, which is 24 Fridays, which is 24 times he's climbed out of this same car with his heart hammering against his ribs.
Jungkook checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looks good. He looks great, actually, black sweater, hair styled in that particular way that took him 45 and 3 YouTube tutorials. He looks like a man who deserves a ‘yes.’ He looks like a man who is about to get another 'no', but hope, as they say, is a stupid and beautiful thing that dies slowly.
"Okay," he whispers to himself. "Okay. This time."
He reaches into the backseat for the flowers, peonies this week, because last week your mother mentioned she liked them and Jungkook remembered. He bought pastries again from that French place across town that requires a reservation three days in advance. Your father sees him coming up the walk through the living room window, and he doesn't move.
"Who is it, dear?" your mother calls from the kitchen.
"Nobody," your father says, which is technically true because, as far as he's concerned, Jungkook hasn't earned the right to be somebody yet.
"Nobody" rings the doorbell. Your father counts to ten before he stands. He opens the door.
"Sir," Jungkook says.
"Jungkook," your father says, like he's surprised, like he hasn't been watching the car sit in the driveway for fifteen minutes. "Again?"
"Yes, sir. If you have a moment."
"I suppose I have a moment."
This is their ritual. Your father steps aside to let him in, and Jungkook enters your childhood home. He can smell your mother's cooking from the kitchen. Something with garlic. His stomach growls, which is embarrassing, but your father pretends not to notice because even he has limits to his cruelty.
"Flowers," Jungkook says, holding them out. "For Mrs. … he clears his throat…for your wife."
"She'll appreciate them."
"And these are from Maison Blanc. The almond croissants you mentioned."
"You remembered."
"I remember everything, sir."
This is the part where your father should feel bad. This is the part where a normal person would see the earnestness in this young man's face. Your father is not having any of it. "Sit," he says. "I'll make tea once again."
They sit in the living room. The couch is old, and Jungkook sinks into it the way he always does, while your father sits in his armchair. The tea is green and bitter. Jungkook hates green tea, but he drinks it anyway.
"So," your father says.
"Sir," Jungkook begins, and he sets down his cup because his hands are shaking again and he doesn't want to spill on the carpet. "I know I've asked before. Many times. But I'm here to ask again."
"Mhm."
"I love your daughter. I have loved her for…" He pauses, does the math "…two years, four months, and sixteen days. Not that I'm counting. I mean, I am counting. I have a calendar. That sounds creepy. It's not creepy. It's —"
"Jungkook."
"Yes, sir?"
"Deep breath, son."
Jungkook takes a deep breath. Your father watches him.
"Sir, may I have your blessing to marry your daughter?" The question hangs in the air between them.
Your father takes a sip of tea. He thinks about you, his daughter, his only child, the person who once cried for three hours because her goldfish died and then forgot about it by dinner time. He thinks about the way you looked at Jungkook the first time you brought him home, like he was made of magic and promises. He thinks about the way Jungkook looks at you, like you are the only thing in the world that matters, like he would burn down every building between here and the sea if you asked him to.
He thinks, good.
Then he says: "No."
Jungkook nods. He expected this, but something in his chest still sinks, still curls up small and wounded. 25 rejections. 25 times he's asked.
"Can I ask again why, sir?"
"Because," your father says, and he leans forward, and Jungkook recognizes this posture. This is the posture of a man about to deliver a lesson. "You still flinch when I say no."
"I … what?"
"You flinch. Your shoulders go up, your eyes go down. You look like a dog that's been kicked." Your father's voice is not unkind, but it is firm. It is the voice of a man who has spent thirty years teaching high school English and knows exactly how to make a point land. "If you want to marry my daughter, you need to be able to hear 'no' without breaking. You need to be able to hear 'no' and keep standing anyway."
Jungkook stares at him. "You want me to… you're testing me??"
"I'm teaching you," your father corrects. "There's a difference."
"How long?"
"Until you stop flinching."
"And if I never stop flinching?"
Your father smiles. "Then you're not the man I thought you were, and my daughter deserves better."
They sit in silence. From the kitchen, your mother's voice rises in a question about dinner, and your father calls back that they'll be a while.
"You can go," your father says. "Unless you want to stay. Daeun made enough for three."
Jungkook should go. He knows he should go. He's supposed to meet you in two hours, and he needs to shower, and he needs to practice his smile so you won't know that he's been here again, that he's been rejected again, but the smell of garlic is making him dizzy with hunger, and your father's face has softened in a way it never has before, and something in Jungkook makes him stay.
"I'd like to stay," he says. "If that's okay."
Your father nods. "Set the table, then. You know where the plates are."
He does. He knows where everything is. He's been here enough times to have memorized the layout of your childhood home. He knows your father takes his coffee black and your mother hums when she cooks. He knows these things because he loves you, and loving you means loving where you came from, even when where you came from keeps telling him no.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
You just got out of the shower when he texts again.
jk: “omw saved you some dumplings. It was a coworker's bday today.”
Y/n doesn’t question anything. You don't know about the tea, or the conversation, or the way your father's eyes went soft when Jungkook finally laughed at one of his jokes. You have no idea that somewhere in your childhood home, there's a drawer where your father keeps the cards Jungkook has brought. And you definitely have no idea that your father talks about Jungkook to his friends, calls him "that persistent kid" with something like pride in his voice. You don't know that your boyfriend is learning how to be the kind of man who doesn't flinch. You don't know that his heart that's been broken so many times and still beats hopeful.
He thinks about you. He thinks about the way you look when you first wake up, he thinks about the way you laugh, he thinks about getting down on one knee and offering you everything he has, which is not much, which is everything. Because many months ago, he made a promise to himself that he would do this right, that he would have your father's blessing.
You text him
You: hurry up, I'm hungry, and the TV show just started!! <3
Three socks and a suspicion
You are standing in front of your open sock drawer when you realize something is wrong with your boyfriend. Not wrong-wrong, not cheating-wrong or lying-wrong or has-a-secret-family-in-a-whole-different-country-wrong.
Jungkook has been... off.
Not distant, if anything, he's been more present than usual, texting more, calling for no reason, showing up at your apartment with food he claims is "leftover from the guys" but is clearly freshly bought because since when does Namjoon eat salmon with lemon dill sauce? Since when does anyone in that dorm eat vegetables that aren't covered in cheese? (again, no shame)
You hold up three socks. None of them match.
"You're thinking loudly," Jungkook says from your bed, where he's sprawled on his stomach, scrolling through his phone. He always knows when you're thinking. It's one of his most annoying qualities as a boyfriend.
"I'm not thinking," you lie.
"Your forehead does this thing." He finally looks up, and his eyes… those big, dark eyes that you fell into like a well you never wanted to climb out of… crinkle at the corners. "It wrinkles. Right here."
"Maybe I'm just getting old."
"You're 23."
"24 in three months."
"Ancient," he agrees, solemn as a funeral. "Should I buy you a cane? Or maybe one of those chairs that lifts you up?"
"Jeon Jungkook."
"Yes, my elderly girlfriend?"
You giggle and throw a sock at him. "You've been weird lately," you say.
"Weird how?" he asks, and his voice is casual, perfectly casual, too casual.
"I don't know. Distracted. Happy distracted. Like you're not telling me something."
Something flickers across his face. Something that looks almost like panic, or maybe hope, or maybe a little bit of both.
"Maybe I am," he says, and then he smiles and pats the space on the bed next to him. "Come here. I'll tell you, angel."
You go because you've always been weak when it comes to him. After all, he could ask you to follow him into a burning building, and you'd follow. The bed dips under your weight.
"Tell me," you say.
"I can't."
"Jungkook."
"I literally can't. It's not my secret to tell…But I promise it's a good secret. The best secret, and when you find out." He stops and swallows… "when you find out, I hope you'll say yes."
Your heart does something complicated in your chest, a backflip, a small, confused seizure. "Say yes to what?"
"Everything," he whispers.
You should push. You know you should push, but he's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world, and you forget how to form words. You forget your own name. You lean in to kiss him because that's the only thing your brain will allow, you kiss him and he kisses you back.
Your mother knows.
She's known since week three, when she came home early from her book club and found Jungkook washing dishes in their kitchen while your father dried. They were arguing about baseball, and your father was laughing. She stood in the doorway and watched them.
"Mrs. Y/L/N" Jungkook had stuttered when he saw her, dropping a plate back into the sink with a splash that soaked his shirt. "I can explain."
"Can you?" she'd asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Not really. No. I'm sorry."
She'd looked at your father, who was doing a terrible job of looking innocent. Your father, who had told Jungkook ‘no’ 13 times at that time, showed no signs of stopping.
"How long?" she'd asked your father.
"13 weeks," he'd said, like he was proud of it. Like this was an accomplishment.
"And how many more?"
"We'll see."
Your mother had sighed then, it's the sigh of a woman who has been married to this man for 22 years and has learned that some battles are not worth fighting. She'd picked up a towel, started drying the plate that Jungkook had abandoned, and said: "He likes the almond croissants from Maison Blanc. But the chocolate ones are better."
Jungkook had stared at her. "You're not... mad?"
"Oh, I'm furious," she'd said, and smiled. "But I'm also hungry, and you two have clearly been eating without me, so you're taking me to dinner. Somewhere expensive."
That was week 13.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Now it's week 27, and your mother has become Jungkook's accomplice. She texts him recipes your father likes. She has, on two occasions, lied to you about where Jungkook is on Friday afternoons, which makes her feel slightly guilty, but she's never seen your father have this much fun. Not at your graduation, not at your sister's wedding, not when he finally beat his brother at golf after 15 years of losing. This ridiculous ritual of weekly interrogation is the most fun he's had in decades.
"He's coming today," your father says now, not looking up from his newspaper. It's Friday. It's 3:30. He checked the clock four times in the last hour.
"I know," your mother says.
"He's bringing those almond things."
"You love almond things."
"I tolerate them," he corrects.
She sits down across from him. "You know you're going to ahve to say ‘yes’ eventually."
"Do I?"
"Yes. Because, despite your best efforts, you like him. You like him more than you liked Minji's husband, and you liked Minji's husband enough to cry at their wedding."
Your father sniffs. "I had allergies."
"You had feelings." She reaches across the table and touches his hand. "When are you going to tell her?"
"Who?"
"Your daughter. The person this actually concerns."
Your father is quiet for a long moment. Outside, Jungkook's car pulls up, and your father straightens his shoulders and puts on his mask of indifference to become the man who says ‘no.’
"When he stops flinching," your father says. "Or when she figures it out. Whichever comes first."
"And if she never figures it out?"
Your father smiles. It's a small, complicated smile, the smile of a man who has spent his life teaching other people lessons they didn't know they needed to learn. "Then she's not as smart as I raised her to be," he says, "and Jungkook will have to keep coming forever."
The doorbell rings. Your mother gets up to answer it, leaving your father to his newspaper and his anticipation and his strange, stubborn hope.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Jungkook is not flinching today.
He's thought about it all week, actually, ever since your father said those words like a challenge.
He's practiced in the mirror. He's practiced in the shower. He's practiced saying ‘no’ to himself, which felt ridiculous but also necessary.
He stands on your parents' porch with lilies-of-the-valley in one hand and chocolate croissants in the other. He switched because he suspects your father is tired of pretending to like almonds.
I will not flinch, he thinks.
Your mother opens the door. "Chocolate," she says, looking at the box. "Smart boy."
"I have it on good authority that almonds are overrated."
"Your authority is correct. Come in. He's in his usual spot."
The living room is the same as always. The couch is waiting to swallow him. The armchair is waiting to judge him. Your father is waiting to break his heart, gently.
"Sir," Jungkook says. He doesn't sit. Not yet.
"Jungkook." Your father folds his newspaper. "You're early."
"I couldn't wait."
"Eager to be rejected?"
"Eager to try."
They sit. The tea is prepared, black today, not green, which Jungkook takes as a good sign, or maybe just as your mother intervening on his behalf. The chocolate croissants are placed on a plate.
"So," your father says.
"Sir," Jungkook says, and he sets down his cup, and he looks your father directly in the eyes, and he does not look away. "May I have your blessing to marry your daughter?"
Your father opens his mouth to say ‘no.’
Jungkook does not flinch or move, and your father notices. Your father notices, and something shifts in his expression like seeing a student finally understand the lesson.
"No," your father says.
Jungkook does not flinch.
"Okay," Jungkook says. "I'll ask again next week."
Your father leans forward. "Why?"
"Because I love her. Because I want to do this right. Because… because you saying ‘no’ doesn't change what I want. It just changes how long I have to wait."
Your father is very still. From the kitchen, your mother is listening, holding her breath, ready to intervene if necessary.
"And if I never say yes?" your father asks. "If I keep saying ‘no’ until you're old and gray and she's moved on to someone else?"
"Then I'll keep coming," Jungkook says, and he means it. "I'll keep coming because this isn't about you. It's about her. And she deserves someone who doesn't give up just because it's hard."
Your father looks at him for a long time. "You're not flinching," your father says quietly.
"No, sir. I'm not."
Your father sits back. He picks up his tea. He drinks it, slowly, thoughtfully, like he's tasting something new. "The chocolate croissants are better," he says finally. “Do you think I’m being cruel to you?”
"No, I understand you’re being careful."
"Do you?"
"I have a sister," Jungkook says. "She's younger, if someone wanted to marry her, I'd want them to work for it. I'd want to know if they were serious." He pauses, chooses his words carefully. "I don't think you're cruel, sir. I think you're scared. And I think that's okay. Because I'm scared too."
Your father laughs. It's a short, surprised sound, like a cough that turned into something better. "You're scared? Of what?"
"Of not being enough. Of messing up. Of all of it…marriage, forever, being someone's whole world. What if I'm bad at it? What if I hurt her? What if I try my best and my best isn't good enough?"
Jungkook realizes he's said too much, but your father doesn't attack. He just nods, slowly, like he's hearing an answer to a question he didn't know he was asking.
"So that's why you flinched," your father says. "Not because of me. Because of the fear."
"Yes, sir."
"And now?"
Jungkook thinks about the fear, which is still there; it will always be there, he knows that now. He thinks about the future, which is uncertain, which is terrifying, which is beautiful because it contains you.
"Now I'm scared," he says, "but I'm here anyway."
"Next week," your father says. "Bring the almond croissants. I changed my mind. I like them better."
"Yes, sir."
"And Jungkook?"
"Yes?"
Your father turns around and smiles, "Stop calling me sir. My name is Seojun."
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
You are eating a salad when Jungkook finally shows up, two hours late.
"Sorry," he says, dropping onto your couch with the boneless grace of a man who has been through something and survived. "A meeting ran long."
"Liar," you say, but you're smiling because he's here. He's always here, because even when he's keeping secrets, he's keeping them with such obvious love that you can't really be mad.
"Am I?"
"You're wearing a hoodie. You don't wear a hoodie to meetings."
He looks down at himself, surprised, like he hadn't noticed. "Huh. Guess I'm caught."
"Guess you are. Where were you, really?"
"I was," he says slowly, "learning how to be brave."
"Jungkook…”
"And I think," he continues, "that I'm almost there, almost ready., my love." He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers are warm. "Soon," he promises. "Soon you'll know everything.”
"Okay," you say. "But if this secret is bad, if you're secretly a criminal or you have a twin, I'm going to be mad."
He pulls you close, rests his chin on your head, and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. "I love you," he says, like it's a promise, like it's a prayer, like it's the only true thing in the world.
"I love you too," you say..
The Blessing
You are standing in the middle of your apartment holding a spoon when the world changes. Your mother calls, and her voice, when you answer, sounds strange.
"You need to come home," she says. "This Friday. Four o'clock."
"Mom, I have work-"
"Four o'clock," she repeats, "And honey? Don't tell Jungkook."
"Mom...?," you say slowly, "what's going on...?"
But she already hung up.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Jungkook knows something is different. He's known since Tuesday, when your mother texted him with instructions for this Friday that were more specific than usual.
Daeun: Wear the blue shirt, and bring the small box, not the big one. She's suspicious enough already.
He's been carrying the small box for four months. It lives in his gym bag, wrapped in an old T-shirt, tucked between his protein powder and his backup headphones. He's taken it to work, to the convenience store at 2 am, when you wanted ice cream. He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. The blue shirt, your favorite.
Today feels different. Today feels like the last time, one way or another. He drives across town with the box in his pocket and his heart in his throat. He doesn't know you're already there. He doesn't know that your mother finally broke, finally told you everything, finally couldn't stand keeping the secret for one more day. He doesn't know that you're sitting in your childhood bedroom right now, listening to your mother's rushed explanation to you, “Every Friday, for 6 months, he…” with your hands shaking and your eyes filling with tears that you can't quite name.
Are you angry? You should be angry. He kept a secret. A big one. A secret that involved your father and pastries and some kind of ongoing test that you apparently needed to pass without knowing you were taking it. But underneath the anger is something else that feels like being chosen, over and over again.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask your mother, and your voice sounds small, like a child's.
"Because he asked us not to. Because he wanted to do it right. And because your father was having too much fun to stop."
"He's been rejecting him? For 6 months?"
"29 times," your mother says. "This will be 30."
"That's…" you stop, because you don't know what that is. Cruel? Romantic? "Where are they?"
"Living room…waiting."
You stand up. Your legs feel unsteady, and you walk to the door, opening it and hear:
"You're late," your father says.
"Traffic," Jungkook replies, and his voice is steady.
You walk slowly and silently down the hall. You can see them through the doorway. Your father in his armchair, the throne, Jungkook on the couch.
"So," your father says. "This is 30."
"Yes, sir."
"You know what I'm going to say."
"I think so," Jungkook says. "But I'd like to hear it anyway."
"You stopped flinching," your father says. "Week 26. Do you remember?"
"I remember."
"I thought that would be it. I thought I'd say ‘yes’ then, and we'd be done with this." Your father leans forward. "But then I realized… flinching was just the first test. The easy one. The real test is what you do after."
Jungkook is very still. "And?"
"And you've shown up," your father says. "29 times. Through my bad moods and my stupid questions and that week where I made you help me clean the garage because I wanted to see if you'd complain."
"I didn't complain, sir."
"Yes, that's right."
You are holding your breath. You realize this only when your lungs start to hurt, when the edges of your vision go blurry. You let it out, slow and silent, and you watch your father's face.
"Jungkook," your father says.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do you love my daughter?"
"More than anything."
"Will you keep loving her? When is she difficult? When she's tired? When she's been your wife for 20, and the newness has worn off, and you're left with just, with her ordinary flaws?"
Jungkook doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Will you keep showing up?"
"Every day," Jungkook says, and his voice breaks slightly, but he doesn't flinch. He doesn't look away. "Every Friday. Every Tuesday. Every day that ends in Y, I'll keep showing up until you believe me, and then I'll keep showing up so you don't forget."
"Jungkook," your father says.
"Yes, sir?"
"My name is Seojun."
"I know, sir. I mean — I know, Seojun."
Your father stands up. He walks to Jungkook, who stands too, automatic, respectful, ready for whatever comes next. He puts his hand on Jungkook's shoulder.
"Yes," your father says.
Jungkook's face crumples for a blink…the relief, the exhaustion, the pure happiness of finally being enough.
"Seojun," your father corrects, but he's smiling. "And you're welcome. Now…" he steps back, clears his throat "…you have a question to ask, don't you? Might want to get to it. She's standing right behind you."
Jungkook turns.
You are crying. You didn't realize you were crying, but your face is wet, and your hands are shaking, and you can't seem to make your mouth form words. You look at him. at your boyfriend, at this stubborn, persistent man who loved you enough to endure 29 rejections just for the chance to propose properly.
"You…" you start, and your voice breaks. "You idiot. You absolute…why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to- " he starts, and then stops, because you're walking toward him, and then you're in his arms.
"I would have said yes," you mumble into his shoulder. "Week one. I would have said yes."
"I know," he says.
"Ask me," you say.
"What?"
"Ask me. You came here thirty times to ask him, now ask me."
Jungkook's hands are shaking. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the small box. It's worn from being carried, from being hidden.
He gets down on one knee. Your mother appears in the doorway, raising the phone to record this, to capture it, to prove that it really happened.
"Okay," Jungkook says, and he's crying now too; you realize the tears tracking down his face in the most undignified, most beautiful way. "Okay. I've been practicing this. In the car. In the shower. In my head, about a thousand times." He opens the box. The ring is simple, exactly right, exactly you. "I love you. I've loved you for two years and four months and thirty days. Your father told me I wasn't ready. But I think- I hope- I'm ready now. Will you…" He stops, swallows, starts again, " …will you marry me? Will you let me keep showing up? Will you be my family, officially?"
You look at him. You look at your father, who is wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and pretending he's not. You look at your mother, who is crying, who has been waiting for this for weeks when she first saw Jungkook washing dishes in her kitchen.
You look at Jungkook.
"Yes," you say. "Yes, you idiot. Yes, I'll marry you. Yes to all of it. Yes, forever."
He puts the ring on your finger. He stands up, and he kisses you.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
Later, after the crying and the laughing and your father insisting on opening the good wine that he's been saving for something important, you sit on the porch with Jungkook, your hand in his, the ring catching the light.
"30 Fridays," you say. "You came here 30 times."
"29 rejections," he confirms. "One yes."
"Was it worth it?"
He looks at you. He looks at you like he looked at you the first time, like he'll look at you when you're old and gray and arguing about whose turn it is to take out the trash.
"Every single one," he says. "I'd do 30 more. 300. However many it will take."
You lean your head on his shoulder.
Inside, your father is telling your mother that he knew Jungkook would make it, that he never doubted, that he was just testing him to be sure. Your mother is rolling her eyes and pouring more wine and smiling in a way that says she knows exactly what really happened. That her husband has already accepted your boyfriend somewhere around week twelve, and has been pretending otherwise ever since.
But that's their story.
This is yours.
The future is waiting.
It's going to be exhausting and beautiful and completely worth it.
→ friendswithbenefits!au with Snowboarder!JK and figure skater!reader during the Olympicssss!
→ 11.1k | part 2 (coming soon!)
A/n: I know that winter olympics is exclusive to winter sports and vice versa with summer, but let’s ignore that for the sake of the fic ;) (ie. mentions of gymnasts)
also this was meant to be a oneshot, but after getting somewhere around 18k…i decided to split into 2 parts! sorry, but hope you guys enjoy what I already have! :D not heavily edited sry but enjoyoyyyyoyyoy
“How fucking hard is it for the boys to seriously not sound like a bunch of monkeys at 3am in the damn morning?!” You grouch, stomping out of the restroom to Irene.
She’s already dressed in her gym outfit, and tying her shoes. “God, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “I think they’ve made a bet or something to see who can make it the longest after bottomless drinking.” Stretching, she groans, “They were up even up til 5am I think, after you fell asleep.”
You roll your eyes, slipping off your robe and pulling on a tight spandex pair of leggings and sports bra. You grab your water bottle and join your teammate as you walk down the hall of the rooming area and into the gym. “It would be nice for once to try and get a normal week of life before the games start. By the way, are we doing cardio today?”
Irene nods, tying her hair up high. “Start off with 60 minutes running and then help me stretch? We’ll go practice on the rink later after lunch.”
everyone knows you as the good girl/nerd. except you’re so fucking tired of that image. (and you’re also very… horny.) so when you decide to be bold and finally go after hoseok — things don’t really go as planned. instead, you end up tangled in a fake relationship with his best friend/campus favorite fuckboy: jeon jungkook.
:: genre/tropes/au :: smau + written , fake dating / fake relationship , slow burn , strangers to friends (a little bit of frenemies?¿) to fuckbuddies to lovers
:: warnings :: no love triangle, university au, frat boys/frat parties, alcohol consumption, judgy!oc - oc is lowk mean, jungkook who’s full of himself, mutual pining, bad decisions, jealousy, eventual written smut, silly ahh fic.
──────────────────────────── ───────
index:
𑣲 teaser [written]
𑣲 ch: 01 been on my worst [smau]
𑣲 ch: 02 don't need no savior [written]
𑣲 ch: 03 way outta line [smau]
𑣲 ch: 04 kinda like the way i feel [ lwritten]
𑣲 ch: 05 don’t give a fuck [smau]
𑣲 ch: 06 i’ll be there in five [smau]
𑣲 ch: 07 talk too much [written]
𑣲 ch: 08 show each other [smau]
𑣲 ch: 09 other ways to catch you up [smau]
𑣲 ch: 10 on the phone [smau]
𑣲 ch: 11 can you keep it secret? [smau]
𑣲 ch: 12 this time i know [smau]
𑣲 ch: 13 i’ll stay with you [written]
𑣲 ch: 14 just promise you won't [smau]
𑣲 ch: 15 no pics, no postin’ us [smau]
𑣲 ch: 16 just in my nature [written]
𑣲 ch: 17 to be a littlе troublemaker [smau]
𑣲 ch: 18 so wrong but so right [smau]
𑣲 ch: 19 you really likе the way i [smau]
𑣲 ch: 20 when we kiss [written]
𑣲 ch: 21 you reminisce [smau]
𑣲 ch: 22 this ain’t the last time [written]
𑣲 ch: 23 just stay by my side [smau]
𑣲 ch: 24 this ain’t no game [written]
𑣲 ch: 25 won’t play with you [smau]
⤷ch: 25.5 (extra) girl talk [written]
𑣲 ch: 26 you won’t say nothin’ [smau]
𑣲 ch: 27 don’t you be actin’ like that [smau]
𑣲 ch: 28 postin’ us [written]
𑣲 ch: 29 this love just ain’t disposable [smau]
𑣲 ch: 30 just take what’s yours, don’t run from it [written] the end.
★ snow and ice (a,f,s) | by @hayjeon
⤷ a friends w benefits au featuring snowboarder! jk and figure skater! reader during the Olympics! this was an amazing read. the tension, the jealousy, the pressure as participants in the olympics was soo well written. made me reread at least thrice.
★ in the dark ft. jimin (f,s) | by @jksangelic
⤷ wild sex with two of your hot best friends while stuck in a car in the middle of nowhere on Halloween night?? where do I sign up.
★ beneath his love (a,f,s) | by @ctrlsht
⤷ this fic had me hooked from start to finish 😭 what starts off feeling like a sweet romance slowly turns into something so much darker and more unsettling. the way jungkook's controlling/yandere tendencies were so subtly mentioned in the beginning of the fic and slowly progressed into full-blown emotional manipulation truly shows how well written this story is. i haven't been this invested in a yandere fic in a long time. the tension had me on edge the entire time, and i kept wanting to know just how far things would go. definitely one of those stories that stays in your head long after you've finished reading.
★ handle with care (f,s) | by @dreamersparacosm
⤷ the plot of this one is straight out of a porn movie but I have to agree. blue collar dick is infact a lifestyle. (esp if jungkook owns said blue collar dick) I need someone to fix my sink and rearrange my soul.
★ play you like a game, boy. (a,f,s) | by @lilliankoo
⤷ "he's mean to everyone but worships the ground you walk on" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I NEED A MAN LIKE THAT WHERE DO I FIND HIM PLSPLSPSLPL
★ one night only (f,s) | by @mei-mei-fics
⤷ this fic was absolutely unhinged in the best way 😭 i came for jimin and stayed for the insane chemistry between all three characters. the dynamic between jimin and jungkook was so well balanced, and the tension just kept escalating with each word. definitely not for the faint of heart, but if you love filthy, intense, and completely addictive reads, this one delivers.
— Pairing biker! bad boy! jeon jungkook x studious! reader
― In which a hardworking student breaks things off with her reckless boyfriend jeon jungkook after one dangerous night too many. Brokenhearted but completely determined, Jungkook sets out to prove he can change his entire life to fit into her future—one day of the week at a time.
― opposites attract | college au | academic stress | character growth | massive devotion | mild angst to pure fluff | protective jungkook | seven vibes! As she asked😉| wc: 2,000? words
gif cr: goldenfishhhh on Instagram
— this is a request from this anon. I actually wrote this story quite a while ago. You requested it back on May 24th, and somehow it took me forever just to settle on a divider and a GIF, which honestly don’t even match the vibe of the fic. I don’t know why, but seeing you here today made me want to thank you properly. It felt important to mention you too.🤍
…
The neon sign of the twenty-four-hour university library made a low, steady buzzing sound. It matched the deep tiredness that was settling into your bones. It was almost midnight on a Tuesday. Your wooden desk was completely covered. You had highlighted textbooks, empty paper cups from cheap coffee, and stacks of flashcards that you had carefully sorted by color.
For you, university was not a place to pass the time or try to find yourself. It was a lifeline. Your family was dealing with major financial struggles back home, and that thought was a heavy, constant weight on your shoulders. You carried their hopes and their worries in every high grade you earned. You had a very strict plan for your life. You had to graduate at the top of your class, secure a stable, high-paying corporate job, and finally give your parents the comfortable life they deserved. There was absolutely no room for mistakes. And there was definitely no room for Jeon Jungkook.
Naturally, that was the exact moment he decided to pull out the plastic chair directly across from you and sit down.
He did not look like he belonged in a quiet library. He looked like an interruption in human form. He wore a heavy black leather jacket even though the night air was mild. He had a small silver hoop piercing his bottom lip, and his face carried a look of complete, unbothered confidence. Jungkook came from a world where money was never an issue. He grew up with a thick safety net, where making a mistake did not cost you your future. He did not think about tomorrow because he never had to. He was the classic definition of a bad boy. He lived his life looking for the next rush of adrenaline, always doing risky things and never taking life seriously.
"You are going to burn a hole right through that paper if you stare at it any harder," Jungkook whispered. His voice was a low, teasing rumble that broke the heavy silence of the study room.
You kept your eyes fixed on your notes, refusing to look up. "Some of us actually have to study to stay in school, Jungkook. Please go mess around somewhere else."
"I am studying," he said. He leaned his upper body forward, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. His dark eyes locked onto your face, completely focused. "I am studying you. You have been stuck on page forty-four for twenty minutes. Your coffee is completely cold, and you are biting your bottom lip again. See? I pay very close attention."
You finally raised your head and let out a sharp, frustrated breath. "We are too different, Jungkook. I don't have time for whatever game you are trying to play. I need a real future. You don't even care about what happens tomorrow."
"Then let me care about what happens to you today," he answered smoothly. A small, reckless smile showed on his lips.
It had taken him months to get you to this point. He spent months showing up at your favorite coffee shops, walking a few steps behind you as you walked home from late-night study sessions, and doing ridiculous things just to make you laugh when you looked like you were about to collapse from stress. He was persistent, he did not give up, and he was incredibly charming. Even though every single voice in your head told you that he was a dangerous distraction you could not afford, your walls eventually broke down. You fell for him. You agreed to date him, truly hoping that his chaotic world could find a calm center inside your quiet one.
But you were wrong.
Dating Jungkook was like trying to hold a thunderstorm in your bare hands. For the first few months, it was exciting. He loved you with a fierce, deep intensity that made your heart race. But his lifestyle never actually changed. He still raced his fast motorcycle down wet highways in the middle of the night. He still got into senseless, angry fights with rival groups just for the thrill of winning. He lived entirely in the present moment, completely blind to the worry he caused.
The final breaking point happened on a dark, rainy Friday night. You were supposed to meet him for dinner after a massive, high-stakes internship interview. It was the kind of interview that could decide your entire career. Instead of a happy celebratory dinner, you spent the night sitting in a cold, sterile hospital waiting room. Your hands shook as you waited for the doctor to finish stitching up his bruised and bleeding knuckles after a street race turned into a massive fight.
When he finally walked out of the treatment room, he had a white bandage stuck across his cheekbone. He had a small, guilty smile on his face, and something inside you just snapped.
"It was just a misunderstanding, honey," he muttered, reaching his hand out toward you. "I'm fine. Look at me, I'm okay."
"No, Jungkook, you are not okay," you whispered. Tears blurred your vision as you took a step back, moving completely out of his reach. "And I cannot do this anymore. I am trying to build a stable life, and you are treating your life like a game. I cannot carry the weight of my family’s entire future and the constant terror that you are going to get yourself killed. It is too much for me. We are done."
The smile completely vanished from his face. It was replaced by a sudden, sharp look of fear. He begged you, he pleaded, and he tried to grab your hands, but you turned around and walked out into the cold rain alone. You left him standing there, completely heartbroken, in the middle of the long hospital hallway.
Monday: let me hold you under the rain
It turned out that breaking up with Jungkook did not mean he was out of your life. In fact, it only made him more stubborn. He was not going to let you go without a fight. He was completely determined to prove to you that he could change, that he could be the dependable partner you needed. He decided he was going to spend every single day of the week showing you exactly that.
On Monday morning, a heavy downpour of rain flooded the university campus pathways. You stood under the concrete roof of the main campus building, holding your laptop bag tightly against your chest. You were trying to build up the courage to run through the thick sheet of rain so you wouldn't be late for your morning lecture.
Suddenly, the heavy rain stopped hitting the ground directly in front of you. You looked up and saw a massive, bright yellow umbrella shielding you from the storm. Holding the handle was Jungkook.
He looked incredibly tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, but his gaze was completely steady. He was soaked from the shoulders down. He had clearly been standing out in the open storm just waiting for you to walk out.
"What are you doing here, Jungkook?" you asked. Your voice sounded tight as you tried to ignore the fast beating of your heart.
"Making sure you don't get wet," he said softly. He held the umbrella completely over your head, completely ignoring the rain that was soaking his own leather jacket. "I know you have your major economic presentation today. If you get soaked, you will be uncomfortable, and you won't do your best. I cannot let anything mess up your future. Not even the weather."
"Jungkook, you really don't have to do this. We broke up."
"You broke up with me," he corrected you gently. He started walking at the exact same pace as you as you reluctantly began moving toward your classroom. "I never agreed to stop loving you. I am going to show you that I can be someone you can rely on. Just let me walk you to class."
Tuesday: The Lunch Box
On Tuesday, you hid yourself in the deepest, quietest corner of the top floor of the library. You were determined to block out the rest of the world. You had not slept well at all. The image of Jungkook’s sad, wet face from the day before kept keeping you awake.
When you reached deep into your backpack to look for a pink highlighter, your fingers brushed against something cold and unfamiliar. You pulled out a neat, beautifully wrapped package. Taped to the top of it was a small piece of paper with his sharp handwriting:
I know you always skip lunch when you are stressed out about exams. Please eat this. I promise I did not cook it myself, so it is actually safe to eat. Don't forget to take a deep breath. — JK
Inside the package was a beautiful, high-quality lunch box filled with your favorite healthy foods. Right next to it was a perfectly cold bottle of sweet iced coffee. You quickly looked around the quiet library room, your eyes searching between the long rows of books. Far away, right near the exit door, you caught a quick glimpse of a familiar dark jacket. He wasn't interrupting your study time. He wasn't being loud, and he wasn't causing a scene. He was just looking out for you from a distance, making sure you were taking care of your body while you chased your big dreams.
Wednesday: The Megaphone
By Wednesday, Jungkook’s non-stop efforts were the main thing people were talking about on campus. He was using an energy that was loud, romantic, and completely devoted. He was acting like a man who would fight for you seven days a week without taking a single break.
You walked out of your afternoon seminar into the bright, open central courtyard. You immediately noticed a huge crowd of students gathered near the stone fountain. In the absolute center of the crowd stood Jungkook, and he was holding a loud plastic megaphone.
Your eyes went wide. "Oh, absolutely not," you muttered to yourself, quickly turning around to walk the other way.
"Attention everyone!" Jungkook’s loud voice boomed through the megaphone, echoing off the brick walls. He sounded like he was laughing, but he was completely serious. "Especially the incredibly smart, beautiful student in the blue cardigan who is currently trying to run away from me right now!"
The entire crowd turned around. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked right onto you. You froze in place, your cheeks turning a bright, burning red.
"I just wanted to stand here and publicly state that I have been a complete fool!" Jungkook shouted. He stepped right up onto the wet edge of the stone fountain, completely ignoring the fact that everyone was staring at him. "I spent a long time thinking that life was just about the next thrill. But I found the only thing that actually matters, and she is currently studying herself to death for her finals! I messed up bad, I did dangerous things, and I scared her. But I am changing! I am taking my life seriously now! I signed up for night business classes! I am tracking my own money! I am going to prove to her that I can be the man who stands right by her side when she makes it to the top!"
The crowd of students started cheering and clapping. You covered your face with both of your hands, laughing even though you tried hard not to. He was being ridiculous, loud, and completely dramatic—but for the first time in your life, his energy wasn't dangerous. It was directed entirely at making you smile.
Thursday: The Sacrifice
Thursday was the day you realized just how deep his changes were actually going. You were walking past the university security office on your way to drop off a form at the main administrative building. Through the open window, you saw Jungkook standing inside, speaking directly with one of the main university directors.
You stopped behind a large brick pillar, staying out of sight, and listened to what they were saying.
"Are you completely sure about this decision, Mr. Jeon?" the director asked. He was looking down at a stack of legal documents on his desk. "Your family’s private foundation usually gives these specific funds for student parties and recreational activities. Moving them over to the academic scholarship fund means you won't be able to host the big annual spring festival car show this year."
Jungkook did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. "I am completely sure. The car show is just a bunch of guys racing fast cars and wasting a lot of money. The scholarship fund helps students who actually need financial support just to finish their college degrees. It helps people who work incredibly hard every single day to make their families proud. That is a much better use of my family's money."
The director nodded his head, looking very impressed, and reached out to shake Jungkook's hand.
As the director walked out of the room, you stepped out from behind the brick pillar. Your throat felt tight with sudden emotion. Jungkook turned around and noticed you standing there. His eyes went wide with surprise. He immediately reached his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, looking very nervous.
"You gave up the spring car show?" you asked softly, walking closer to him. "I know how much you loved that track. You talked about it all the time."
Jungkook gave you a soft, completely genuine smile. He took a step toward you, but he kept a respectful amount of space between your bodies. "I used to love it because I didn't have anything real to care about in my life. But I have been listening to you. I have been paying attention to how hard you work. I cannot fix all the financial problems in the world, but if I can use my family's money to make sure people like you don't have to suffer so much just to get an education... then giving it up is easy. I want to care about the things that matter to you."
Friday: The Shadow
On Friday night, the world decided to test how strong your boundaries really were. You were walking back to your small, off-campus apartment very late. You had just finished a grueling, three-hour group project session. The old streetlights on your usual walking route were flickering, casting long, creepy shadows across the dark pavement.
You heard the heavy, rhythmic sound of footsteps behind you before you actually saw anyone. A group of three rowdy, drunk men from the nearby bar district were walking close behind you. They started calling out crude comments, directing them at your back. Your heart started hammering wildly against your ribs. Your walking pace got much faster as you reached deep into your pocket for your phone, your fingers shaking badly.
Before you could even unlock the screen to call for help, a familiar, sleek black motorcycle came roaring around the dark corner. Its bright front headlight cut right through the darkness. The heavy bike skidded to a sharp, loud halt right between your body and the three men.
Jungkook swung his long leg off the seat, pulling his black helmet off his head in one smooth motion. His face looked incredibly serious and protective. There was a cold, hard look in his dark eyes that made the three drunk men stop dead in their tracks. He did not yell at them. He did not raise his fists, and he did not start a reckless fight like he used to do.
Instead, he stood firmly like a solid wall in front of you. His voice was low, steady, and dangerously calm. "I strongly suggest you turn around and walk the other way right now."
Seeing the complete, unwavering strength in the way he stood, the three men mumbled something angry under their breaths. They quickly turned around and walked down a side street, disappearing into the dark.
Jungkook immediately turned around to face you. His entire face and body softened in a split second. His hands came up, hovering just a couple of inches away from your shoulders, wanting to touch you but making sure it was okay first. "Are you alright? Did they touch you at all? Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay," you whispered. Your voice was shaking, and the fear was finally starting to leave your body. "You... you didn't hit them."
Jungkook shook his head, a gentle smile breaking through his worried expression. "I promised you that I was completely done with senseless danger. I am not that guy anymore. I am here to protect your life, not to make you worry about mine. Please let me give you a ride home. I brought an extra helmet with me. I will drive as slow as you want me to."
Saturday: The Rooftop
By Saturday evening, the incredible weight of his devotion had completely melted the icy wall you had built around your heart. He had shown up for you every single day of the week. He was changing his entire life, completely shifting his goals just to prove to you that he was listening, that he cared, and that he loved you enough to grow up.
He asked you to meet him on the flat rooftop of his apartment building in the evening. When you pushed the heavy metal door open and walked out, there were no fast sports cars, no loud music, and no dangerous stunts. There was just a simple checkered blanket spread out on the concrete under the stars, a small telescope on a tripod, and a single acoustic guitar resting on the ground.
Jungkook was sitting on the middle of the blanket, looking up at the clear night sky. When he saw you walk out, his entire face lit up with that bright, boyish smile that had always made your chest feel warm.
"You actually came," he said, quickly standing up to his feet.
"I did," you replied, walking across the roof and sitting down on the soft edge of the blanket. "What is all of this, Jungkook?"
He sat down right beside you, his knee lightly brushing against yours. He plucked a single loose string on the guitar, making a clear sound. "No big crowds of students, no loud megaphones, no heavy rain. Just me. I wanted to show you the real future that I am planning for myself. I applied for an entry-level job at my father's corporate firm this afternoon. It is a boring office job, forty hours a week. I am going to learn how to manage a real business from the bottom up. I want to build something stable."
He turned his body to look directly at you. His dark eyes were full of absolute honesty and vulnerability. "I used to live for the thrill of the moment because I thought the future was just an empty, boring space. But now I know that the future is only worth something if you are standing in it with me. I don't want an easy, empty life anymore if it means a life without you. I want to work hard. I want to make you proud of me."
You felt a warm tear slip down your cheek. The realization finally hit you completely. He wasn't just playing a game to get you back for a week. He had fundamentally changed his entire path. He was rewriting his own identity because he loved you that deeply.
Sunday: The Promise
On Sunday evening, you stood on the small balcony of your apartment, looking out over the thousands of twinkling lights of the city. The seven days of the week had come and gone. With every passing hour, Jungkook had proven to you that his love was not a temporary phase—it was a solid anchor.
A soft, hesitant knock sounded at your front door.
When you pulled the door open, Jungkook was standing there on the welcome mat. He wasn't wearing his old leather jacket anymore. He was wearing a simple, clean, structured jacket. He looked incredibly handsome, calm, and grounded. He did not say a single word. He just looked into your eyes, waiting for your final decision, leaving his entire heart completely exposed to you.
You did not make him wait a single second longer. You took a big step forward, closing the small distance between your bodies, and threw your arms tightly around his neck.
Jungkook let out a shaky, ragged breath. His strong arms instantly wrapped around your waist, lifting you slightly off your feet. He pulled you so close against his chest that you could feel the fast, joyful thumping of his heart against your own. He buried his face deep into the crook of your neck, holding onto your body as if you were the only real, solid thing left in the entire universe.
"Does this mean I am finally allowed to be your boyfriend again?" he whispered. His voice sounded thick with emotion as he pulled his head back just enough to look into your eyes.
"It means you are a complete idiot," you laughed softly. Tears of happiness were in your eyes as you cupped his warm jaw with your hands, your thumb gently tracing the line of his cheekbone. "A loud, dramatic, stubborn, incredible idiot who somehow managed to completely change my mind."
"I told you I would," Jungkook said. His signature, confident grin finally returned to his face, bright and beautiful. "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Seven days a week. Every hour, every single minute, every second. I love you, and I am never going to stop showing you that for the rest of our lives."
You smiled against his lips, leaning up on your tiptoes as his mouth met yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. It was a real promise of a long future that you would build together—a future that was safe, financially stable, and beautifully alive.
when the stoic and devastatingly handsome sir jeon jungkook is appointed as your personal knight, sworn to guard your royal highness with a will forged from steel, you quickly discover that his greatest strength may also be his most infuriating trait, he is utterly immune to you. no matter how tightly you lace your corset, he remains the perfect knight, eyes respectfully averted, jaw set like stone. but while sir jungkook may be a man of steel, you are a princess accustomed to getting what you want, and with every sinful intention of discovering whether even the realm’s most loyal knight could be brought to his knees for you.
⎯⎯ pairing: knight jungkook x princess y/n
warnings: erotica, forbidden medieval fantasy au, porn with plot, age gap, yearning, size difference, oral fixation (f.), unprotected sex, the princess is very horny, cold,dom!knight, bigdick!knight, breeding, pregnancy trope, war brutality, motherhood, subtle angst
word count: 20.5k
The great hall of the royal palace echoed with the murmurs of the assembled court. The King sat upon his throne, his stern gaze sweeping over the line of elite knights who had come to compete for the highest honor in the realm, becoming the personal protector of his only daughter, the princess, you.
The position was coveted for many reasons, but none more obvious than the princess herself.
Beauty had always been your burden as much as your blessing. Tales of it traveled farther than merchants and faster than ravens, crossing borders until even distant courts spoke your name with a mixture of admiration and longing. Princes penned verses in your honor without ever meeting you. Even seasoned knights, men hardened by war and duty, often found themselves disarmed by nothing more than a smile.
With your coronation fast approaching, the kingdom stood on the brink of celebration. It would be the grandest event seen in decades, drawing princes, dignitaries from every corner of the continent. Some would arrive seeking alliances. Most would arrive seeking you.
The prospect amused you more than it excited you.
“Protecting my daughter is not merely a matter of strength,” your father’s voice boomed through the hall. “It demands unyielding discipline and absolute loyalty. You will each face three trials. The princess herself will accompany you, so that you may prove your worth in her presence.”
Your eyes swept slowly across the line of knights standing before the throne, a faint mask of boredom kissing your beautiful face, certain that none of them would truly be able to handle you.
For years, entertaining yourself at the expense of knights had become something of a pastime. A lingering touch against a gauntleted hand, a mere whispered compliment that left disciplined warriors suddenly forgetting their own names. Watching them struggle to maintain their composure was endlessly amusing.
You had notoriously toyed with men like this, living wildly beneath the weight of your royal title, and your father knew this better than anyone. That was precisely why he had designed these trials.
He wasn’t simply looking for the strongest sword arm. He wanted a knight with sharp intellect and the rare ability to withstand your constant attempts to live life on your terms rather than as a perfectly mannered princess.
A small, intrigued smile played on your lips when the first few knights stepped forward. They were impressive in brute force, but you could already tell they would crumble the moment you decided to play.
Then he stepped forward.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Even fully armored, with only his dark, piercing eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet, once his unflinching gaze met yours for a brief second, a strange spark ignited low in your belly. You tilted your head, studying those dark eyes with growing interest.
The first trial took place that very evening in the smaller banquet hall. Only a select few courtiers were present. You sat at the high table beside your father, sipping from a jeweled goblet.
Unknown to the competing knights, the King had arranged for one of the wine pitchers to be laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Harmless, but potent enough to leave the princess disoriented and vulnerable. Only the King, a few trusted advisors, and the princess herself knew of the plan.
The knights had been given only one instruction: protect the princess. No further details.
As the evening progressed, the effects of the draught began to take hold. Your thoughts grew pleasantly hazy, movements slower. The jeweled goblet nearly slipped from your grasp once before you caught it. A second time, you laughed at something that had not been particularly funny.
Several knights noticed. Some were too busy trying to appear vigilant, eyes constantly scanning the room for imaginary assassins.
A few noticed your condition and drew dangerously close. One insisted on helping you stand despite the fact that you had not asked for assistance. Another rested a hand against your lower back almost inappropriately while guiding you through the room. One knight even smiled when he realized how heavily you leaned upon him after stumbling.
The courtiers watched everything. So did the King.
You were beginning to feel genuinely annoyed when a tall figure stepped silently between you and yet another overeager knight.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Unlike the others, he had not hovered around you all evening. He had remained where a royal protector belonged, close enough to intervene, distant enough to respect your space.
Dark eyes studied your face through the narrow opening of his helmet. “The princess has had enough wine,” he declared.
The knight beside you scoffed. “She seems perfectly fin—”
“She does not.”
You watched surprise flicker across the other knight’s face.
Sir Jungkook’s hand briefly closed around your forearm as you swayed, steadying you before immediately letting go the moment your balance returned.
Within moments he had summoned two ladies-in-waiting to accompany you back to your chambers. When another knight offered to carry you himself, Sir Jungkook declined on your behalf before you could even answer.
“Her reputation is as important as her safety.”
For the first time all evening, genuine curiosity stirred within you.
Most men saw opportunity when they looked at you. Some saw beauty, a few saw a future crown. Yet somehow, Sir Jeon Jungkook seemed to see only his duty.
As the ladies guided you toward the doorway, you glanced back over your shoulder.
“How noble of you, Sir Jungkook,” you teased, voice softened by the draught. “Are you always so resistant to temptation?”
His gaze never wavered. “My duty is to protect Your Highness.”
For reasons you could not quite explain, that response lingered in your thoughts far longer than any flirtatious remark ever had.
The final trial was, by all appearances, the simplest.
After weeks of staged attacks, hidden tests, the remaining candidates expected one final demonstration of skill. Some anticipated a duel. Others believed they would be sent to defend the princess from another fabricated threat. Instead, the King announced that the last trial would consist of a single week of personal duty beside the princess. No further explanation was offered.
The knights were disappointed.
You, however, knew exactly what your father was doing.
The trial was not designed to test strength or intelligence. It was designed to test restraint.
Most of the candidates failed within days. Some became overly eager whenever you requested their company.
Others ignored palace protocol the moment you suggested bending the rules. One knight allowed you to wander through the city market without informing the royal guard because he was too eager to please you. Another accepted an invitation to share wine in one of the palace balconies despite knowing perfectly well how improper it appeared. Every failure was carefully observed and quietly recorded.
Only one knight remained infuriatingly impossible.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
The more you watched him, the more determined you became to discover his weakness. Surely he had one. Everyone did.
At first, your attempts were harmless. During walks through the palace gardens, you lingered beside him instead of remaining ahead as protocol dictated. During meals, you directed most of your conversation toward him. More than once, you deliberately brushed your fingers against the steel of his gauntlet while speaking. Other knights would have turned crimson. Some would have stumbled over their own words.
Sir Jungkook merely stepped aside and continued his duties as though nothing had happened.
Perhaps it was the way every other knight had spent the past weeks attempting to impress you, the King, or the court.
Where others sought favor, he sought only to fulfill his duty. And thus, when the day of the final judgment arrived, the outcome surprised absolutely no one.
Your father rose slowly from his seat.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook,” he declared, voice echoing through the hall. “You have successfully completed all trials. You have shown not only strength and intellect, but the rare ability to anticipate danger and resist… temptation.” His gaze flicked briefly to you. “From this day forward, you are hereby appointed as the princess’s personal royal knight and protector. Guard her with your life. And may the gods help you.”
A murmur rippled through the court.
You turned toward Sir Jeon Jungkook, stepping just close enough that your crimson gown brushed his armor.
“Welcome to my service, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered so only he could hear. “I do hope you’re prepared. Resisting me may prove to be your greatest trial yet.”
His dark eyes held yours with unshakable strength. “I was under the impression I had already passed that one, Your Highness.”
—
Having Sir Jeon Jungkook follow you around all day wasn’t ideal.
It had not even been three months since his appointment as your royal knight, yet his constant, silent presence had already begun to grate on your nerves. He was always a towering shadow in dark armor, never more than a few steps behind. What annoyed you most was his utter lack of reaction.
No matter how boldly you flirted, no matter how you tightened your corset in front of him until your breasts nearly spilled over, no matter how many times you “accidentally” brushed against him, he remained perfectly composed.
What bothered you most of all was that you still had no idea what he looked like. Only those dark, intense eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet. The rest of him remained hidden behind steel, a constant, frustrating mystery.
The journey to the neighboring kingdom for the grand alliance celebration had been long and stifling. You rode in the royal ornate covered carriage borne by four strong horses and guarded on all sides. The extravagant gown you wore was beautiful but suffocating, the tight corset pressing against your ribs and making every breath feel like a struggle. Boredom weighed on you like lead.
Your dearest friend, Lady Isolde rode beside you in her own litter. She was to be wed in a month, and the two of you had spent the journey giggling like girls again, whispering behind silk curtains.
“He’s so tall,” Isolde teased, peeking through the gap toward where Sir Jeon Jungkook rode steadily beside your litter. “And those eyes… I wonder what the rest of him looks like under all that steel. Do you think he’s handsome, or just another brute?”
You laughed softly, though your gaze lingered on the narrow slit of Jungkook’s helmet, where those dark, intense eyes remained fixed forward.
“As if,” you replied, laced with mock boredom. “He’s far too proper. I could tighten my corset until my breasts nearly spill, and he wouldn’t even glance.”
Isolde giggled. “You should try. For science.”
Sir Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward the litter for the briefest second before returning forward. You smirked. Annoyed as you were by his constant, unflinching presence… you were also undeniably intrigued.
That night, after the feasting and music had died down and the royal party made camp near the forest’s edge, you slipped away, desperate for even a moment of peace, and determined to test just how far his restraint could stretch.
The air had grown chilly, carrying the faint bite of early autumn as you made your way to the forbidden stretch of the deep bend where the river water ran swift and dangerously deep. No one was permitted here after dark, especially not the princess.
You knew he would follow.
The heavy footsteps of armor soon echoed behind you on the rocky bank.
“Your Highness,” Sir Jungkook’s deep voice rang out, firm. “This area is strictly prohibited at night. The currents are treacherous and the water is far too cold. We must return to the palace at once.”
You barely looked at him. Your eyes were fastened upon the vast expanse of the river, moonlight dancing across its dark surface like scattered diamonds. You wanted nothing more than to feel the cool waves kissing your bare skin, to swim freely under the moon with no eyes judging you in, except his.
A small, unusually kind smile touched your lips as you turned toward him.
“Why don’t you join me, Sir Jungkook?” you asked softly, your voice carrying on the gentle night breeze. “Just for a little while. The water looks so peaceful tonight.”
Sir Jungkook stood like a statue in his dark armor. “Your Highness… that would be highly improper,” he replied, voice low. “I am here to protect you, not to… bathe with you.”
You let out a soft, melodic laugh and began walking toward the river’s edge, the hem of your gown brushing the grass.
“Well, I suppose then…” you bit your lip, your fingers moving to the laces of your gown with aching slowness. “I shall swim, and you will stand guard like the loyal knight you are.”
You could feel his intense eyes watching through the narrow slit of his helmet as you loosened the ties. The rich fabric slid from your shoulders like liquid silk, pooling at your feet.
Completely bare under the moonlight, you wore nothing beneath. Your skin glowed luminous and your full breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples already stiff from the cold night air. The curve of your waist flared into soft hips, and the smooth, delicate skin between your thighs was on full display.
Sir Jungkook immediately turned his head sharply away, staring fixedly into the dark trees.
“Your Highness!” His voice was strained. “This is highly inappropriate. I cannot allow—”
“You don’t have to allow anything,” you cut him off, dripping with defiance. “You’re not permitted to touch me while I’m bare. So you’ll just have to stand there.”
You waded into the river with a soft gasp. The icy water bit into your skin, but the thrill of rebellion pushed you forward. You swam out deeper, the cold making your body hypersensitive.
You glanced back at the bank. Sir Jungkook stood like a statue, head turned away, refusing to look at your naked form even once. His armored fists were clenched tightly at his sides.
A thrill of satisfaction ran through you.
You felt exhilarated. Free. And wickedly aware that the most disciplined man in the kingdom was standing on the bank, fighting not to look at you.
“Are you really going to stand there all night, Sir Jungkook? The water feels wonderful… and I’m all alone out here.” You swam further out, the cold water caressing every inch of your bare skin. A soft, content sigh escaped your lips.
It would be a plain lie if you said you weren’t at least a little relieved that he had followed you. The deep bend was no joke. its treacherous currents and deadly depth were feared even by The King. Yet here you were, aching to tear down the walls of the knight who refused to bend to your charms.
You floated lazily on your back, letting the moonlight kiss your bare skin. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you took your chance.
Once a subtle current tugged at your legs, you gasped dramatically, flailing your arms and letting out a soft, helpless cry. “Oh—!”
You fought back a giggle, pretending to be a damsel in distress, knowing the current wasn’t strong enough to truly endanger you. You wanted to see if you could finally crack his composure.
But the gods had other plans.
Without warning, a far more treacherous undercurrent slammed into you like a living beast. It dragged you under violently, twisting your body, filling your mouth and nose with icy water. Real panic surged through you as you lost your breath and sight in the black depths.
“Jungkook!” you screamed, the sound barely coherent as water rushed into your lungs. This time, it was no act.
Sir Jeon Jungkook did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He plunged into the river fully armored, cutting through the violent current with powerful strokes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking your naked body against his steel chest as he fought the river with raw, expert strength. You clung to him desperately, coughing and gasping as he dragged you back to the rocky bank.
The moment he pulled you ashore, his helmet caught on a low hanging branch and was ripped clean off.
You lay on the grass, gasping for air, when your eyes finally focused on the man hovering above you.
And you forgot how to breathe.
Sir Jeon Jungkook was devastatingly, unfairly handsome.
Wet raven black hair clung to his forehead and sharp, sculpted cheekbones. Water droplets traced the strong line of his jaw and dripped from sensual lips. His dark eyes, now fully exposed, were intense and beautiful, framed by long lashes and thick brows. A faint scar graced his left eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise perfect masculine beauty.
Before you could speak, he swiftly grabbed his crimson cloak and draped it over your naked body, covering you completely with careful reverence. His gaze remained locked strictly on your face, never once drifting to your exposed skin.
“Are you okay, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rough with concern. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he noticed the way you were staring at his now-bare face.
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The combination of the dangerous current, the shock of nearly drowning, and the overwhelming sight of your knight’s true face left you dizzy and speechless.
Your vision blurred. You passed out in his arms.
Sir Jungkook pulled you closer against his armored chest, one large hand gently brushed your wet hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you like a warrior carrying his lady, your head resting against his broad shoulder, body wrapped securely in his cloak, legs draped over his arm as he carried you back to his mare.
He mounted carefully, keeping you nestled safely against him as the horse began the journey back to the palace through secret paths.
You woke briefly as he laid you down on the thick rug before the hearth in your royal chambers. The fire was already roaring. You were still wrapped in his cloak, beneath it only a thin silk bandeau now clung to your body, the delicate material barely containing your breasts, pressing them together in a deep, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each shaky breath.
You trembled from the cold and the lingering shock of the river.
Sir Jeon Jungkook remained kneeling by the fire, his movements precise as he stoked the flames. Water dripped from his raven hair onto his armoured shoulders. Then he rose to his full, imposing height, towering, broad shouldered.
Without a word, he reached for his helmet, which rested upon a nearby oak chest, clearly intending to conceal his face once more.
“No,” you whispered, your voice soft yet commanding as you pushed yourself up on one elbow. “Do not put it back on.”
The knight paused, gloved hand hovering above the helm. His dark eyes met yours, intense and conflicted.
“Your Highness… it is not fitting for me to stand before you unveiled,” he said, his voice carrying the formal cadence of a sworn knight. “I must maintain the dignity of my position.”
You sat up fully, the cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin and the edge of the silk bandeau. Despite the cold still clinging to your bones, warmth bloomed low in your belly as you gazed upon his face, truly beheld it for the first time.
“Come closer,” You rose to your knees on the rug, the cloak parting further as you reached for him. “Let me see you properly.”
He hesitated, every line of his powerful frame taut with restraint. Yet he obeyed, lowering himself once more to kneel before you. Even on his knees, he remained nearly at your eye level, so tall and broad was he.
You lifted a delicate hand and brushed your fingers through his damp raven locks, pushing them back from his forehead. A contented sigh escaped your lips.
“You are far too pleasing to look upon, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered, almost in awe. “I had wondered what lay beneath that steel. Never did I imagine such a face.”
Sir Jungkook remained perfectly still on his knees before you. His hands rested tensely on his armoured thighs as he fought to keep his gaze fixed on your face and not the way your breasts strained against the thin silk bandeau.
“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he replied, voice low. “But I am your knight. Nothing more. Please allow me to restore my helmet.”
You shook your head slowly, refusing to let him hide again. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers still buried in his damp raven hair.
A new, overwhelming wave of admiration and obsession washed over you. This man... this mature, hardened, breathtakingly handsome knight was kneeling before you like a devotee. The realization sent a fresh rush of heat between your thighs.
“You’re older than me, aren’t you?” you murmured softly, continuing to caress his hair with gentle strokes. “Hardened by battles and years I haven’t yet seen.”
You wondered how many more scars he carried beneath that heavy armor hidden across his broad chest, his strong back.
“I am twenty eight, Your Highness,” he answered quietly, his deep voice carrying that disciplined tone you were growing addicted to.
“Tell me something personal,” you said, your voice turning playful yet curious. Your fingers trailed from his hair down to trace his cheekbone once more. “Have you ever been with a woman, Sir Jeon? Truly been with one?”
His jaw tightened visibly. The question crossed every boundary a knight was sworn to respect.
“Your Highness… such questions are not appropriate for me to answer,” he replied. You leaned in even closer, still stroking his hair tenderly, your breath brushing against his skin.
“But I want to know,” you whispered. “Have you ever touched a woman the way a man touches a lover? Ever kissed one?”
Jungkook’s breathing grew slightly heavier. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours with iron discipline, though you could clearly see the storm brewing behind them.
“I have not, Your Highness,” he finally answered, voice low and honest. “My duty has always come first.”
A thrill ran through you at his confession. You let your fingers drift lower, brushing along his sharp jawline. “And if a woman wanted you… desperately?” your voice dropped to a near whisper. “If she wanted your mouth between her thighs… your tongue tasting her, would you deny her?”
The impure question hung heavy in the air between you. You shocked even yourself with how boldly it slipped out, but the vivid image, his devastatingly handsome face trapped between your legs, mouth glistening with your arousal made the heat bloom even more slick between your thighs.
Sir Jungkook’s hands clenched tighter on his armored thighs. A faint flush colored the tips of his ears and neck, but he remained on his knees.
“Your Highness,” he said, reverently, “I am sworn to protect you. Not to… indulge in such thoughts.”
You smiled softly. Then you leaned back on the bed, letting the crimson cloak fall open completely. The thin silk bandeau was the only thing left covering you, and even that felt too much now.
“Then I command you,” You looked down at him, this powerful knight on his knees before you, and felt a rush of pure need. “I want your mouth on me, Jungkook. Right now.”
“Your Highness, I—”
“Touch me,” you breathed, cutting him off. “Please, Jungkook…”
You reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to your chest. Slowly, you pressed his large palm over the thin silk bandeau, letting him feel the soft, heavy weight of your breast. Your nipple was already painfully hard beneath the fabric.
Sir Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arm flexing under the armor as he fought against every instinct.
You didn’t stop there, dragging his hand lower, sliding it down your stomach until his fingers rested between your thighs. You were soaked. your petals slick and hot against his gloved fingers.
“Feel how damp you make me,” you whispered, voice shaking with need.
Sir Jungkook let out a low, strained groan. His dark eyes were fixed on your face, but you could see the violent war happening behind them.
The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on — the princess, the future queen, was laid out before him in nothing but a flimsy silk bandeau, legs spread, pressing his hand against her dripping cunt.
“Your Highness…” he rasped, albeit desperate. “This is beyond forbidden. You are royalty. I am sworn—”
“I don’t care,” you whimpered, grinding slowly against his gloved fingers. “I need you. I’ve never felt this way before. Touch me now, my knight. Please.”
His hand trembled. For a long moment, he simply rested there, feeling your wetness soak through the leather of his glove. Then, with a broken exhale that sounded like surrender, his fingers moved.
He stroked along your soaked folds, parting the delicate petals of your most secret flower. And what a flower it was... a lush, glistening rosebud blooming only for him. Your outer lips were soft and swollen with need, flushed deep, delicate like the first blush of dawn.
As he gently spread you open, the inner petals revealed themselves: silky, and impossibly tender, layered like the finest rose in full bloom after a summer rain. At the center lay your sweetest nectar, dripping and honeyed, flowing abundantly from your aching entrance.
The knight didn’t know what came over him, but your pulsing heat and slick, puckering folds had him utterly entranced. His breathing grew ragged. You could see the way his throat worked, the way his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He was drooling.
“May I lick you, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with barely contained hunger. “Please… allow me to taste you.”
The desperate plea from such a disciplined man sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you.
“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your thighs wider for him, your voice trembling with raw need. “Use your mouth on me, Jungkook. Lick your princess until she cannot think.”
The moment the words left your lips, something in him broke. Sir Jungkook leaned in and dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly up your soaked slit. The first full taste of you pulled a deep, guttural groan from his chest. You were intoxicatingly sweet and dripping with arousal. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every slick fold as if he were drinking the finest wine in the kingdom.
You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as overwhelming pleasure flooded your body. The sensation was brand new, so intense it made your legs twitch violently.
“Oh... Jungkook!” you moaned, fingers digging into his raven hair.
The knight’s tongue circled your swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth, then plunged inside your tight heat, ravishing you with slow, deep strokes. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth eagerly eating you echoed through the chamber, obscene, and shameless.
The most beautiful woman he had ever known, the future queen, was thrashing beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head, soft whimpers and loud moans spilling from her pretty lips.
Your hips rolled desperately against his face, coating his tongue, lips, and chin with your sweet release. Sir Jungkook drank every drop you gave him, groaning against your cunt as his own cock strained painfully against his armor.
He had never tasted anything so addictive.
You were already twitching, gasping, legs trembling so hard they threatened to close around his head. The pleasure was too much, too new, too overwhelming for your body.
Suddenly, Sir Jungkook pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your juices. His dark eyes looked up at you, breathing ragged.
“Should I continue, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with lust and devotion. “Tell me… do you want more?”
You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, pussy throbbing, dripping onto the mattress beneath you.
“Please don’t stop,” you whimpered desperately. “Keep licking me... please...”
The knight obeyed instantly. He buried his face back between your thighs and attacked your clit with relentless strokes of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard on your swollen pearl.
The pleasure hit you like a storm.
Your entire body seized up. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you gushed on his tongue. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, vision blurring at the edges.
You nearly passed out from the sheer intensity of it. body twitching, chest heaving, soft cries still falling from your lips as the pleasure refused to let go.
Sir Jungkook stayed between your thighs through every tremor, drinking down every last drop of your release like a man who had finally found salvation.
When your body finally went limp, trembling and oversensitive, he gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling back, his handsome face flushed and glistening with your arousal.
You could barely speak, still catching your breath as you stared at the sight of your proud, disciplined knight with your release shining on his lips.
—
“The Princess requires her knight’s escort to the eastern tower for stargazing.”
The message was innocent enough on paper. But the court had begun to notice how often you summoned Sir Jeon Jungkook for these private “duties.” Some whispered that the Princess trusted no one else. Others envied the knight who had earned such unwavering favor from the realm’s greatest beauty.
They had no idea what really happened once the tower door was bolted.
In the eastern tower under the stars, you would push Sir Jungkook against the cold stone wall and demand his mouth on you again. He always hesitated at first, “Your Highness, we mustn’t…” but the moment you looked at him with those wide, needy eyes and whispered “Please, Jungkook… I ache for you,” his resolve crumbled.
He would drop to his knees in full armor, push your skirts up to your waist, and bury his face between your thighs. The sounds he made while devouring you were filthy and desperately loud. wet slurps and deep groans as he drank every drop of your arousal. You quickly learned to muffle your loud moans against your own arm or his shoulder, thighs shaking violently around his head as he brought you to shattering orgasm after orgasm.
He never asked for anything in return at first. But one night, after he had made you come so hard you saw stars, you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you freed his thick, aching cock from his breeches.
You had never seen the knight fully bare, but you had tasted him.
You took him into your mouth with clumsy but eager hunger, sucking and licking until he was groaning your name like a prayer, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head. When he spilled down your throat, you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.
The tension between you only grew hotter, more forbidden.
You began creating excuses just to be close to him.
You “accidentally” wandered into dangerous parts of the forest during hunts. You “lost” your way in the palace corridors at night. You deliberately teased foreign dignitaries until they grew too bold, all so Sir Jungkook would have to step in, pull you protectively against his armored chest, and hold you there while scolding you with his low voice.
Each time, you nestled your head against his chest plate, breathing in his scent, feeling safe in a way you had never felt with anyone else.
One quiet afternoon in the royal rose gardens, while the other knights kept their distance. The summer blooms were at their peak, rows upon rows of crimson roses spilling over marble trellises in a riot of color and fragrance. Courtiers often compared them to you. You had heard the comparison so many times throughout your life that it had long since lost all meaning.
Your attention was elsewhere when Sir Jungkook paused beside a rose bush heavy with crimson blooms. Reaching out, he selected a single flower and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before approaching.
“A gift?” you asked.
“If Your Highness would accept it.”
The answer surprised a smile from you.
He stepped forward and tucked the rose behind your ear. His gloved fingers lingered only for a second before withdrawing, but even that brief touch seemed to affect him more than he wished to admit.
When you looked up, his gaze was fixed upon the flower. “Beautiful things are dangerous,” he said quietly.
You laughed. “I believe roses are dangerous for everyone except gardeners.”
His expression didn’t change.
“I wasn’t speaking about the rose.”
Your heart fluttered so violently you had to look away. it was becoming impossible to deny how deeply you were falling for him.
The kisses grew sloppier, more desperate with every stolen moment.
In the abandoned library, your knight would press you against the bookshelves, helmet removed, and kiss you like he was drowning, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might vanish. You kissed him back just as hungrily, tugging at his hair, moaning softly into his mouth while your hand palmed the hard bulge in his breeches.
Your hunger for him was insatiable. You ached for his presence constantly. The court noticed how you lit up when he entered a room, how you instinctively moved closer to him during gatherings. They saw devotion, they saw trust.
They never saw the way you both held each other’s eyes like lovers who knew their time was stolen.
The relationship was utterly forbidden. Your father would banish him, or worse, if he ever discovered the truth. But neither of you could stop. Something real was blossoming between you.
The knight admired your wild, rebellious spirit. You admired his quiet strength and unwavering honor. In the darkness, you were no longer just princess and knight. You were becoming each other’s secret salvation. And it was only a matter of time before the tension finally snapped.
—
The Coronation.
The kingdom was in full celebration. Banners of the finest gold flew from every tower. The greatest event in decades had arrived, your coronation as Queen.
Princes from across the realms had come in droves, each more eager than the last to win your hand and the throne beside you. They brought lavish gifts, performed in grand tournaments, and showered you with compliments. The entire court watched with bated breath, waiting for you to choose.
You sat upon the raised dais in a breathtaking gown of white, looking every bit the ethereal queen-to-be. But your eyes kept drifting to the tall, armored figure standing silently behind your throne, Sir Jeon Jungkook.
He had become even more composed in public, yet you could feel the storm raging beneath his helmet. Especially when you decided to play your cruel little game.
Prince Min of Veina leaned close during the feast, whispering sweet nothings about your beauty. You laughed brightly, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers linger, leaning in just enough for your neckline to offer him a generous view of your breasts.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Sir Jungkook’s gloved hand tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.
Another prince, a golden haired lord from the eastern isles, offered you a rose during the garden promenade. You accepted it with a coy smile, twirling it between your fingers while glancing toward your knight.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned behind the helmet. You could feel his jealousy like a living thing, hot and barely contained.
That night, after the feasting and dancing, you summoned him to the eastern tower under the usual pretense.
The moment the door closed, he was on you.
The knight pinned you against the cold stone wall. The single rose you’d been idly twirling between your fingers, a gift from one of the many princes, fell forgotten to the floor.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned with something almost feral.
“You will be wed off soon?” he growled dangerously, breath hot against your ear.
You looked up at him, heart racing. Your long, wavy hair had finally been let down after the long day, cascading over your shoulders and hips like dark silk. The tight corset of your white coronation gown was already loosened, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.
“What do you think about Prince Min?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “I think he’s quite lovely. So charming. He even said he would worship me every night once we’re wed.”
Sir Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it crack. The jealousy that had been simmering all day threatening to explode.
“Doesn’t it drive you mad, Sir Jeon?” You leaned in closer, letting your breasts brush against his armored chest. “Knowing your princess, the one you’ve been secretly devouring every night, is wanted by so many powerful men? That they all dream of putting a ring on my finger and taking me to their beds?”
“It is exquisite torture, Your Highness,” he growled, eyes burning. “Watching them look at you like they have any right to you. Knowing I’m the only one who’s ever tasted you, the only one who’s ever made you scream.”
His raw honesty sent a sharp thrill through you. You bit your lip, loving the way jealousy sharpened his features, making his dark eyes appear even more intense. He was possessive and barely holding himself back. And you wanted to push him further.
You stepped away from the wall with a teasing smile, walking over to the tall, gilded mirror that stood near the fireplace. The white gown still clung to your body, hair cascading in long, wild waves down your back. You picked up a silver brush and began slowly running it through it, watching him in the reflection.
Sir Jungkook followed you like a shadow, stopping just behind you. His tall, powerful frame loomed in the mirror, twice your size, radiating heat and restrained fury.
“Does that bother you, my knight?” A teasing smile played on your lips. “Knowing that soon I might have to let another man—”
You didn’t get to finish. Sir Jungkook’s large hand closed around your wrist, stopping the brush mid stroke. He plucked it from your fingers and set it down with a deliberate clack. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling your back flush against his armored chest.
Your breath hitched. The playful boldness you’d been wielding all night vanished in an instant.
“Enough,” he growled low against your ear, “You’ve teased me enough tonight, Your Highness.”
His dark eyes burned into yours through the mirror. The intensity there made your knees weak. This wasn’t the restrained, obedient knight anymore. This was a man who had finally reached his limit.
He reached around you and slowly began unlacing the rest of your corset. The white gown loosened further, slipping down your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as he tugged it lower, exposing your full breasts to the cool air and the warm firelight. Your nipples were hard, flushed, and sensitive.
Sir Jungkook’s hand cupped one breast possessively, squeezing it as his thumb brushed over the stiff peak. You gasped, arching into his touch.
“Look at yourself,” he ordered quietly, voice rough. “Look how beautiful you are. How perfect. And yet you let them think they could ever have this.”
He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you whimpered. His other hand slid down, gathering the fabric of your gown and pulling it up to your waist, fully exposing your bare cunt in the mirror.
Your face bloomed bright red as you instinctively tried to close your legs, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the sight of yourself so lewdly displayed, flushed and completely bare in the golden firelight.
But Sir Jungkook wouldn’t allow it. His large hand gripped your thigh firmly, spreading you open again as he pressed his body harder against your back.
“Don’t hide,” His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, intense and commanding. “Look how filthy and wet you are for me.”
You shivered, unable to tear your eyes away from the reflection. The contrast was obscene, your ethereal white gown bunched around your waist, breasts exposed and heaving, legs spread wide while his armored body loomed behind you like a dark, possessive shadow.
Sir Jungkook’s hand returned between your thighs. Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, parting them slowly so you could see everything in the mirror. You whimpered at the sight, embarrassed yet unbearably aroused.
“So beautiful,” he breathed as he circled your swollen clit with his fingertip. “This is what belongs to me. Not to any prince. Not to anyone else.”
He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began ravishing you with slow, deliberate strokes that made wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet tower.
You tried to close your legs again, overwhelmed, but he held them open with ease, his grip firm and unyielding.
“Watch,” he ordered softly, voice dark with lust. “Watch how easily I can make my princess fall apart.”
Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your cheeks were flushed deep crimson, lips parted in shameless moans, breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.
The pleasure built fast and merciless. Your legs started shaking, thighs trembling violently as you fought to stay upright.
Sir Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firm circles on your swollen clit.
You came hard with a broken cry, arousal gushing down his wrist and dripping onto the stone floor beneath you. Your head fell back against his armored shoulder, body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through right after.
The knight dragged his arousal coated fingers from your pulsing heat and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while his dark eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. The obscene sight made you whimper, legs pressing together instinctively. This time, he allowed it.
You pulled away from him shyly, legs unsteady as you walked toward the wide couch near the fireplace. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover your bare breasts, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.
Sir Jungkook approached you ever so slowly. His heart was pounding. you could see it in the rise and fall of his broad chest. The way your flushed cheeks and shy posture made you look so adorable only made his desire burn hotter.
He stopped in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. Without a word, he gently uncrossed your arms, exposing your breasts again. You tried to cover them once more, but he caught your wrists softly.
“You’re too beautiful to hide, my love.” he murmured, voice low.
He leaned down and took one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. You gasped sharply, hands flying to his shoulders as overwhelming sensitivity shot through you.
“Jungkook... it’s too much...” you whimpered, lightly pushing at his shoulders, cheeks burning with shyness.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and affection. “You’re so sensitive here,” he whispered, almost in awe. He flicked his tongue over your nipple again, watching your reaction closely. “So angelic when you tremble like this.”
He sucked harder, alternating between your breasts, licking and biting softly until you were a whimpering mess, pushing at him weakly while your body arched into his mouth.
You grew frustrated at the unfairness, nearly naked while he was still fully armored. With a small, determined huff, you pushed him back slightly and began tugging at the straps of his armor.
“It is not fair,” you muttered, cheeks still flushed. “You get to see all of me, but I still haven’t seen you.”
The knight let you undress him, helping you remove piece after piece until he stood completely bare before you for the first time.
Your breath caught.
He was magnificent. Broad shoulders, powerfully sculpted chest marked with old scars, some long and faded, others newer. A few dark tattoos adorned his left pectoral and ribs. His abdomen was ridged with muscle, leading down to narrow hips. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and already hard.
You stepped closer, running your hands over his bare chest, tracing every scar with reverent fingers, exploring the strong lines of his back, more scars mapping his battles. He stood perfectly still, letting you admire him, though his breathing had grown heavier.
“You are… so manly, my knight,” you breathed, barely coherent, as your hands returned to his chest, sliding down the hard ridges of his abdomen. “So big… so perfect.”
The room had grown hotter, heavier. The air between you felt charged with months of suppressed longing. Your breaths mingled as you stared into each other’s eyes... yours wide with awe and desire, his dark with barely restrained hunger.
Sir Jungkook’s control finally snapped. He lifted you and laid you down on the wide couch near the fireplace, pinning your exploring hands above your head with one large hand, holding them there firmly before his body hovered over yours, powerful and imposing, thick cock resting heavy against your inner thigh.
“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.
You did, heart hammering.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.
You squirmed beneath him, aching and desperate. “Take me,” you pleaded, trembling. “Please, Jungkook… give it to me. I need you inside me.”
Sir Jungkook let out a low groan at your words. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. He was big, almost intimidatingly so. You felt the stretch even before he pushed in.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Your Highness,” he whispered, voice strained with worry and barely contained lust. His dark eyes searched yours, torn between desire and restraint. “You’re so tight...”
You trembled beneath him, legs parted wide around his hips. “Please,” you begged softly, cupping his face. “Don’t hold back. I need you. All of you.”
The knight exhaled shakily and began to push inside.
The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply as the thick head of his cock breached you, slowly forcing your walls open. Inch by thick inch, he sank deeper, filling you in a way you had never experienced before. It burned sweetly, bordering on too much, making your nails dig into his shoulders.
“Ah... Jungkook…” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming fullness.
He paused halfway, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, rough. “I’ll stop. I swear it.”
But you shook your head, wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I need you deeper… please.”
With a low groan, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The fullness was devastating. You felt so stretched, so completely claimed, that for a moment you could barely breathe.
Sir Jungkook stayed still, letting you adjust, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks.
“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice filled with awe and lust. “Such a good girl for me.”
When the burn finally melted into aching pleasure, you rolled your hips experimentally.
“Move,” you whispered. “Please… ruin me.”
That was all it took.
Sir Jungkook’s control snapped completely. He pulled back and thrust into you hard, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Jealousy and months of pent up desire fueled every powerful stroke. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt filled the tower, mixing with your loud, broken moans.
He was a knight sworn to protect the crown, now utterly ruining the very sovereign he had pledged his life to shield.
“Mine,” Sir Jungkook growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a dark mark. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”
He ravished you relentlessly, claiming you, marking you. His mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into your breasts, biting your collarbone, licking the tears from your cheeks. He pinned your wrists above your head again, hips snapping against yours with raw need.
You came hard the first time, screaming his name as your walls clenched violently around his thick length. But he didn’t stop. He took you through it, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, on the wide couch.
First, he worshipped.
The knight dropped to his knees behind you, his large hands spreading your cheeks reverently. He leaned in and pressed slow, open mouthed kisses along the curve of your royal backside, lingering presses of his lips that made your breath hitch. He kissed lower, then lower still, until his tongue dragged hot and wet over your soaked folds from behind.
“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot and heavy. “So divine. And yet I am going to ruin every sacred inch of you.”
Then the worship turned into ruin.
He rose, gripping your hips with white knuckled force, and thrust into you from behind in one deep, devastating stroke. You cried out sharply at the stretch, the thick length of his cock forcing your walls open, filling you so completely it stole your breath.
You sobbed in pleasure, fingers clawing at the cushions as he drove into you relentlessly. The power he exerted over you was intoxicating. this hardened warrior, dominating you utterly while still worshipping every tremble of your body.
“You belong to me,” he rasped, ruining you with slow, devastating strokes now. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Only yours, Jungkook... ahh!”
By the third round, you were a sobbing, whimpering mess, tears streaming down your face from overwhelming pleasure, body covered in his marks, cunt swollen and dripping with your combined release.
He took you in every way he could: against the wall, bent over the couch, riding him as he sat on the edge of the seat, then finally on your back again with your legs over his shoulders as he drove impossibly deep.
All night long, the tower echoed with your moans, his deep groans, the obscene wet sounds of your bodies joining. He claimed you utterly and completely devoted.
When he finally came for the last time, buried deep inside you, he held you tight, spilling pulse after pulse of hot seed into your womb, filling you until you felt impossibly full, claimed from the inside out.
Sir Jeon Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every word.
“You command the entire kingdom, my lady,” he whispered reverently, “but here in this hidden place… you are mine to ruin.”
You could only tremble in his arms, utterly spent, legs wrapped around his waist, heart pounding wildly as the fire crackled beside you.
The weight of what you had just done, and what it meant for both of you settled uncomfortably in the air. But in that moment, wrapped in his powerful arms, marked and filled by your knight, nothing else in the kingdom mattered.
The days that followed were a delicate illusion of peace.
It was late morning when you found yourself in the secluded royal bathing pool fed by a gentle river, surrounded by floating lily pads and white blossoms that drifted lazily on the current. The water was warm, scented with rose and lavender oils poured in by your maids. Sunlight filtered through the overhanging willow branches, casting soft, dappled light across the surface.
You leaned back against the smooth stone edge, your long dark hair floating around you like ink in water. Your body still carried the secret marks of the previous night, faint bruises on your hips, love bites hidden beneath the waterline, and a persistent, delicious ache between your thighs that reminded you with every shift who had claimed you so thoroughly.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and old, wise Selyse moved around you carefully. They had raised you since you were a babe, more mothers than servants. They knew you better than anyone.
Elara poured another stream of warm water over your shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush that still lingered on your cheeks.
“You are glowing again this morning, my lady,” she said lightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “One might think the moon itself had kissed your skin.”
Verra, younger and bolder, laughed softly as she massaged oil into your scalp. “Or perhaps a certain tall, dark eyed knight has been keeping you… well attended.”
You felt your face heat, but you couldn’t stop the small, secret smile that curved your lips.
Selyse, the eldest, clicked her tongue but her eyes were soft with affection. “Hush, you two. Our princess has always been radiant. Though…” she tilted her head, studying you, “there is a new light in her eyes these days. And a certain weariness in her step that speaks of long nights.”
You bit your lip, sinking a little lower into the water as lily pads brushed against your skin.
“It is nothing,” you murmured, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.
“Nothing?” Vera teased, wading closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially.
“We have seen you grow from a wild little girl into this breathtaking woman. We know your heart. And we know it does not belong to any of those puffed up princes parading through the halls.”
You reached out, squeezing Elara’s hand, then Verra’s, your voice dropping to a shy, trembling whisper.
“It is true,” you confessed, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. “I have given myself to Sir Jeon. Body and heart. He is the only man I have ever wanted. The only one who has ever touched me.”
For a heartbeat, silence fell over the bathing pool. Then came the gasps.
Elara’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. Verra let out a delighted little squeak, nearly dropping the oil vial. Even old Selyse, usually so composed, looked momentarily stunned before her face broke into a warm, knowing smile.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” Elara breathed, scandalized, thrilled. “You wicked little thing! With your own knight? Right under the King’s nose?”
Verra giggled uncontrollably, splashing water playfully in your direction. “And here we thought you were simply fond of him! All those late night ‘stargazing’ trips… you minx! Was he gentle? Was he… big?”
“Verra!” Selyse scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She turned to you with motherly affection. “Though I must admit, we have suspected for some time. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching… that man is utterly gone for you, my lady.”
You buried your face in your hands, mortified but unable to stop the shy, giddy smile spreading across your lips. Your gaze drifted across the river to where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard a respectful distance away, half hidden among the willow trees.
Even from here, you could feel the weight of his stare. He stood tall and imposing in his armor, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with a quiet, burning intensity that always made your stomach flutter.
You bit your lip, still flushed from both the warm water and the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body claiming you so thoroughly the night before.
“He is… everything,” you whispered dreamily, more to yourself than the maids. “Strong. Honorable. And when we are alone… he worships me like I am his entire world.”
Verra let out another delighted laugh. “As he should! Our princess deserves nothing less. Though if the King ever finds out…”
Selyse gently squeezed your shoulder, her voice softening with both love and concern.
“Then we will protect your secret as fiercely as we have protected you all these years,” she said. “You deserve to love who you love, my dear. Crown or no crown.”
You looked back at Sir Jungkook again. He hadn’t moved from his post among the willow trees, tall and steadfast in his armor, but your heart ached with a sharp mix of fear and wonder.
If The King ever discovered the truth, he would not spare your knight. Sir Jungkook would be banished, or worse. And you… you would be married off immediately to seal the wound.
The thought disturbed you deeply.
You turned back to the water, forcing a smile for your maids, but the warmth of the bath could no longer chase away the chill settling in your chest.
—
The rumors had begun to spread like fire through the palace corridors.
A lesser knight claimed he had seen “suspicious movement” near the eastern tower. One of the visiting princes mentioned, with a sly smile, that the Princess seemed unusually attached to her personal guard. Nothing concrete, nor proven. But the whispers were growing louder.
Your maids noticed your distraction immediately. During your morning dressing, Verra fastened the laces of your gown with unusually tight pulls, her voice urgent.
“My lady… you must be more careful,” she whispered. “Some of the king’s men have been asking questions about Sir Jeon. They say he spends too many nights away from the barracks. And one of Prince Min’s retainers swears he saw a tall figure slipping into your wing after midnight.”
Elara’s hands paused on your hair. “The knight is being cautious now. He avoids being seen with you as much. But you… you still look at him like he hung the moon. It is only a matter of time before the King hears something he cannot ignore.”
Selyse placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her eyes full of love and worry. “You are playing with fire, sweet girl. And fire does not care how much you love it.”
Your heart clenched with fear. You hadn’t seen your knight alone in a week. He had been deliberately distant, protecting you both by keeping his distance. The absence gnawed at you like hunger.
That night, you sent for him under the pretense of needing extra security for a private walk in the inner courtyard.
The moment the hidden door to your chambers closed behind him, you were on him.
You pushed Sir Jungkook against the wall, frustration and fear pouring out of you in a desperate kiss. Your hands fisted in his tunic, tugging him closer.
“Where have you been?” you demanded between kisses, voice shaking. “I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought my father had already—”
“I’m here,” he whispered against your lips, rough with emotion. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you. “I’m right here, my love.”
But then he pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours. His dark eyes were filled with pain.
“I cannot stay,” he said quietly. The words hit you like a blow. “Your father has ordered me to lead a company to the western borders. There have been reports of raiders. He says it is to prove my devotion to protecting the realm… and you. He also made it clear I can no longer linger so closely around you. The rumors are growing too loud.”
You stared at him, heart shattering.
“No,” you whispered, then louder, “No. You cannot leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”
Tears stung your eyes as the hurt poured out.
“After our first night, you pulled away. You kept your distance like I was poison. And now you’re leaving entirely? What if something happens to you out there? What if I lose you forever? I can’t take it, Jungkook. I won’t survive it.”
Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the straps of his armor with desperate, angry fingers.
“I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about the borders. I only care about you.”
Piece by piece, you stripped him. The armor fell to the floor with heavy clangs until he stood completely bare before you, broad chest, scarred skin, powerful frame looking every bit of the warrior he was. You shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.
Sir Jungkook’s hands moved instinctively to the laces of your corset, trying to free you fully, but you slapped his hand away, tears already glistening in your eyes.
But the knight was patient. He sat up slowly, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, and gently cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness.
“My love,” he whispered, voice soothing, “Let me worship you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”
He leaned in and captured one of your sensitive breasts in his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue swirled around your stiff nipple, drawing a shaky moan from you. He moved to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and licking until your back arched and fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, this time from overwhelming sensation and emotion.
Holding you close, then gently but firmly, Sir Jungkook leaned back, gripping your hips and guiding you upward. In one rapid motion, he pulled you over his face, settling you directly onto his waiting mouth. Your soaked folds pressed flush against his lips and tongue, your thighs framing his head as he looked up at you with pure hunger.
“Use me,” he growled against your dripping folds, the vibration sending sparks through your core. “Pleasure yourself on my tongue love. I want to drown in you.”
You hesitated for half a second, still shy and nervous, cheeks burning hot even as your body screamed for more. But the frantic ache between your legs won out. You lowered yourself more fully, your slick cunt sliding over his mouth, his nose buried against your clit. He groaned loudly, the sound muffled and obscene as he immediately speared his tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking at your juices like a man starved.
You started moving almost desperately, grinding down with frantic little rocks of your hips. Shyness still flickered in your chest, making you whimper and bite your lip, but the pleasure overrode everything. Your hands braced on the headboard as wet, filthy sounds filled the room, the slick slide of your cunt over his tongue, his eager slurping and moaning, the way he sucked your swollen clit between his lips and flicked it mercilessly.
“Oh gods...” you gasped. Your thighs trembled around his head as you grew bolder, grinding harder, smearing your arousal all over his face. He gripped your cheeks, spreading them, holding you down so you could use him exactly how you needed. His tongue ravished in and out of your dripping hole, then flattened to lap broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, devouring every drop.
But it wasn’t enough.
You lifted off his face with a wet pop, strings of your arousal connecting you to his glistening mouth. His eyes were dark, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. Before he could speak, you slid down his body impatiently.
You straddled his hips, wrapped your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, and sank down onto him in one frantic motion.
The stretch made you cry out, but you didn’t stop. You rode him hard, bouncing on his length with frantic, emotional need, your breasts bouncing heavily with every harsh drop of your hips.
“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed, riding him faster, tears falling onto his chest. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t lose you. Not after this. Not after you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”
He thrust up to meet you, matching your desperate rhythm, his strong hands gripping your hips to guide you deeper.
“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice breaking with the same pain. “But I must. Your father commands it. I have to prove my loyalty… so I can stay by your side.”
You leaned down, kissing him messily through your tears, riding him like you could keep him here forever if you just moved fast enough.
“Then stay inside me,” you begged, voice cracking. “Fill me up. So deep that a part of you stays with me even when you’re gone. I want to carry you with me when they try to take you away.”
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply. His hands tightened on your hips as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath his powerful body.
He made love to you then, with deep, devastating strokes that reached the very core of you. His mouth never left your skin, sucking marks into your neck, whispering promises between every thrust.
“You are mine,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling deeply. “I will come back to you. I will fill you again and again until you swell with our future.”
You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging desperately as another orgasm built inside you. When it finally crashed over you, you sobbed his name, walls pulsing tightly around his thick cock.
Sir Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a low, guttural groan. He came hard, flooding your womb with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your souls together.
Even after, he stayed buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to your damp forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.
“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, small and broken. “I love you too much.”
Sir Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “I know, my love,” he murmured. “And that is why I must return to you. No matter what.”
The weeks following Sir Jungkook’s departure had stretched into an endless gray fog.
You moved through your royal duties like a ghost wearing a crown. You sat through council meetings with a straight spine and a hollow smile, listening to nobles bicker about alliances, trade routes while your mind wandered back to your knight’s strong arms. Every night since, your bed felt too large, too cold. You would press your face into the pillow he had once used and fight the ache in your chest.
You missed him with a desperation that bordered on madness.
This morning was no different. You had barely kept your breakfast down before the maids helped you into a heavy velvet gown the color of deep wine for yet another assembly with potential suitors. The princes and lords from neighboring kingdoms were growing impatient. Your coronation was only a month away, and the pressure to choose a consort was mounting like a noose around your throat.
By midday, the nausea returned with a vengeance. You barely made it through the formal greetings before excusing yourself to the private solar, hand pressed to your mouth.
Elara followed quickly with a basin. You retched violently into it, eyes watering.
“Your Highness…” she whispered, rubbing gentle circles on your back.
“I’m fine,” you rasped, waving her away. “Just… something I ate.”
But it wasn’t.
Later that evening, after the day’s obligations were finally over, Vera and Selyse insisted on the usual massage to ease the tension in your shoulders. They helped you out of your gown until you lay on the wide cushioned table in nothing but a thin silk shift.
The moment Selyse’s skilled hands moved over your breasts, the older maid froze.
Verra, who was working on your legs, also stilled.
“…Your Highness,” Selyse said carefully, “Your breasts… they are fuller. Tender, yes?”
Your breath hitched. You had noticed it days ago but had tried to ignore the swelling, the sensitivity. The way even the softest fabric sometimes made you wince.
Verra’s hands gently pressed against your lower belly, not quite a touch, more an assessment. “And the sickness every morning… the fatigue… the way you’ve been crying in your chambers…”
Your eyes filled with tears. You turned your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking.
Selyse knelt beside the table, taking your hand gently. “My lady… are you with a child?”
You didn’t answer at first. Then a broken sob escaped you.
“I think so,” you whispered. “I… I don’t know for certain, but the timing…” Your voice cracked. “It would be his. Sir Jungkook’s.”
Both maids exchanged a heavy glance. This changed everything.
Verra spoke softly, “My lady... with your coronation approaching. The lords are already circling like vultures, pushing their sons at you. If this comes out before you choose a prince…”
“I know,” you said, voice muffled. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I know what it means. But I can’t… I can’t just marry one of them. Not when I’m carrying the child of the only man I’ve ever loved.”
You sat up slowly, clutching the silk shift to your chest, arms wrapped protectively around your still flat stomach.
“My dear knight...” you sniffled. “He is out there fighting gods-know-what, and I’m here pretending to be the perfect princess while my body betrays our secret.”
Selyse brushed a strand of hair from your face with motherly tenderness. “We can hide it a little longer, Highness. Looser gowns. Ginger tea for the sickness. But you must decide soon what path you will take. The child… it will not stay hidden forever.”
You nodded, but your heart was breaking all over again. The thought of choosing one of those cold, ambitious princes while carrying Sir Jungkook’s child made you feel ill all over again.
Selyse pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice firm with loyalty. “We pray he returns soon, my lady. And until then, we will guard you and this little one with our lives.”
—
The weeks blurred into months as winter settled over the kingdom like a heavy white shroud. Snow blanketed the towers and gardens, turning the world soft and silent, yet inside your chest, the storm only grew louder.
Sir Jeon Jungkook had not returned.
Your belly had swelled noticeably now, a gentle but undeniable curve that marked the life growing within you. With the help of Elara, Verra, and Selyse, you hid it beneath layers of loose, flowing gowns and heavy cloaks lined with fur.
The rich fabrics concealed the truth for now, but you could no longer ignore the way your body changed, the tender fullness of your breasts, the occasional flutter of movement beneath your skin, and the constant, bone deep exhaustion.
You had begun excusing yourself from the suitors’ assemblies more frequently, claiming headaches or matters of state. But the King, grew increasingly impatient.
In the grand throne room one frost laced afternoon, he fixed you with a stern gaze as snow fell outside the tall windows. “You cannot delay any longer, daughter,” he spoke, heavy with royal command. “Prince Min of Viena is a strong candidate. The coronation is weeks away. You must choose a consort soon. The realm needs stability.”
You bowed your head, hands clasped tightly over your hidden belly beneath the voluminous velvet. “Yes, Father,” you murmured, the lie tasting like ash. Inside, your heart screamed for the only man you wanted.
Every few days, with your maids’ help, you sent letters. Verra would sneak them to a trusted rider, sealed with your private wax. You poured your soul onto the parchment; how much you missed him, the way your body was changing, the secret you carried, your love that only deepened with every passing day. Yet no responses ever came. The silence gnawed at you, feeding nightmares of him lying wounded on some distant battlefield or worse.
The worry became unbearable.
One bitter winter morning, wrapped in a thick hooded cloak that concealed your swollen middle, you slipped away from the castle with only Elara and Selyse accompanying you. The three of you rode through the snow dusted forest to a modest stone cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom, the home where Sir Jungkook had grown up.
When the door opened, an older woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her dark hair stood before you. Sir Jungkook’s mother. She froze at the sight of the princess on her doorstep, her hand flying to her chest.
“Your Highness…?” she whispered, stunned. “Surely I do not deserve to be blessed with your presence at my humble door. Please, come inside before the cold takes you.”
She ushered you, Elara, and Selyse quickly into the warm cottage, the scent of pinewood and baking bread wrapping around you like an embrace. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as she helped you remove your snow dusted cloak. Only when you were seated by the fire did her gaze drop to the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath the loose gown.
You took a steadying breath, your hands resting protectively over your rounded stomach.
“I carry his child,” you said softly, trembling with emotion. “Your son’s. Sir Jungkook’s. He does not know yet… he has not returned, and I… I needed to feel close to him somehow.”
Jungkook’s mother, Maera, stood completely still for a long moment, her eyes wide with shock. Then her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Oh… gods above,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “A grandchild…? From my Jungkook?” Fresh tears flowed freely as she dropped to her knees in front of you, taking your hands in hers with deep reverence. “My lady… my princess. You honor me beyond words. You honor my son. To think that you, a royal daughter, would carry his child… I am stunned. Truly stunned. And so deeply moved.”
She pressed her forehead to your knuckles, weeping quietly with pure joy and emotion. When she lifted her head again, her eyes shone with fierce affection.
“You are already family to me,” she whispered. “Come here, sweet child.” She rose and pulled you into a warm embrace, cradling you gently as if you were made of glass. “You must be so frightened, carrying this secret alone while he is away. But you are not alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.”
You felt safe in her arms, the weight on your heart easing just a little as winter wind howled softly outside the cottage walls.
After composing herself, Maera wiped her tears and fetched a small wooden chest from a shelf. She sat beside you, opening it with trembling hands.
“Look,” she said tenderly, pulling out several treasured items. She showed you a faded sketch of a chubby baby with dark, serious eyes —Sir Jungkook as an infant. Another portrait showed him as a sturdy little boy of four, holding a wooden sword with determination. There was even a lock of his soft baby hair tied with a ribbon.
“He was always so intense, even as a babe,” she said with a watery laugh. “Strong and quiet… but when he smiled, the whole world lit up. Just like I imagine your little one will.”
You traced the portraits with gentle fingers, tears slipping down your own cheeks. Seeing these glimpses of him as a child made your love for the knight swell even deeper. You could so clearly picture your baby with his eyes, his strength, his rare smile. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and longing.
Maera kept one hand over yours, cherishing you openly. “Thank you for coming to me,” she murmured. “For trusting me with this precious news. We will wait for him together, my daughter. And when he returns, he will be the happiest man alive.”
The two of you sat by the fire for a long while — his mother and the mother of his child, talking softly as snow continued to fall outside, bound by love for the same man.
The days after your visit to Maera’s cottage only deepened the ache in your soul. Winter grew harsher, and so did your impatience. Every morning you woke with your hands on your swelling belly, feeling the strong kicks of his child, and the longing became unbearable.
One evening in the royal chambers, you fell to your knees before the King, tears streaming down your face. “Father, please… I beg you. Bring Sir Jungkook back. I need him. I cannot do this without him.”
The King frowned, confused by your desperation. “Daughter, he is leading my forces on the border. The realm needs him there. Why this sudden insistence on one knight?”
You could not tell him the truth. “I just… need him,” you whispered brokenly. “Please.”
He did not relent. The pressure to choose a suitor only intensified.
And then the sickness took hold.
Your body ached constantly. deep soreness in your back, hips, and breasts that made every movement painful. The baby’s kicks, once a comfort, now left you breathless. You grew feverish and weak.
Elara, Verra, and Selyse rarely left your side, forcing herbal teas and bitter medicines down your throat while piling warm blankets over you. For nearly a week you were bedridden, barely able to leave your chambers, hidden away from the court under the excuse of a winter chill.
One cold, silent night, as snow tapped gently against the window panes, you drifted in and out of a fevered haze. The herbs made the world soft and blurry around the edges.
You thought it was a dream when the heavy door to your chambers opened with a quiet creak and a tall, familiar figure stepped inside, shedding his snow dusted cloak. The firelight caught on his sharp jawline and those intense dark eyes.
Strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you carefully as he climbed into your grand bed. A warm, calloused hand gently cradled your swollen belly. You felt the press of soft, reverent lips against the curve of your stomach.
“My love…” The knight’s deep voice whispered against your skin, rough with emotion. “I’m here. I finally came back to you.”
“Jungkook…?” you murmured drowsily, eyelids heavy, unsure if this was real or another cruel dream born of longing and medicine.
“It’s me,” he breathed, pulling your body flush against his solid chest. He was real. warm, solid, smelling of snow, leather, and the faint scent of campfires. “I’ve been aching for you every single day. Your touch, your voice… it kept me alive out there.”
His large hand stroked slow, soothing circles over your rounded belly, feeling the baby shift and kick beneath his palm. He lowered his head, pressing his lips directly to the taut skin.
You let out a tired, broken sound. “You left me… You promised you’d come back sooner. Look at me… I’m so sore, so heavy with your child, and you weren’t here…”
Sir Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound warm against your skin, even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, my princess. I deserve your scolding. I’m deeply sorry.” He kissed your belly again and again, soft open mouthed presses wherever he could reach. Then he trailed his lips higher, attaching his mouth gently to the swollen, aching curve of your breasts, sucking lightly and kissing away the soreness with such care that you whimpered in relief.
His hands never stopped moving, massaging the deep ache in your lower back, cupping and gently holding your heavy breasts to ease their weight, stroking your hips and thighs. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly as if afraid you might vanish.
“You are unreal, my love.” he murmured, voice hoarse with awe as he looked at you. “Your glow… it’s deeper now. The way pregnancy has changed you… you’re beyond anything I could have imagined. You shine like starlight. Carrying our child has only made you more radiant, more mine.”
You clung to him weakly, drowsy but desperate for his touch. “The baby… it kicks so much. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl… but it feels like you. Strong and stubborn.”
Jungkook smiled against your temple, one hand still resting warmly over your belly. “This child is the product of our love. A piece of both of us. I already love them more than life.” He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring months of aching into it. “Every battle, every cold night, I thought only of coming home to you like this… holding you, feeling our baby move, worshipping the body that’s creating our future.”
He continued kissing every place that ached... the sides of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the inside of your wrist, his mouth soft and devoted. You melted into him, the pain easing under his gentle care as he held you close.
“Stay…” you whispered tiredly, already slipping back into sleep.
“I’m here right now,” he promised, lips brushing your ear. “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you both.”
When morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, you woke slowly, body still aching but strangely comforted.
The bed beside you was cold. No warmth lingered. No cloak on the chair. No scent of him on the pillows. Only the faint memory of strong hands, whispered words to your belly, and soft kisses remained.
You touched your swollen stomach, feeling another firm kick, and tears filled your eyes.
Was it a dream? A fevered hallucination woven from medicine, longing, and love? Or had Sir Jungkook truly returned to you in the dead of night… only to disappear again before dawn?
The herbs and medicines your maids prepared worked their magic. The fever finally broke, the deep soreness in your body eased into a manageable ache, and the constant nausea faded. Though you were still tired, your strength slowly returned. Your belly continued to grow rounder and heavier, the baby’s kicks becoming more insistent and lively.
One quiet winter evening, when the moon hung full over the snow covered palace, your maids turned your chambers into a secret sanctuary.
Accompanied by Sir Jungkook’s mother, they had worked together in absolute secrecy. No one outside your trusted circle knew. They had decorated the large private solar adjacent to your bedroom with soft candlelight, evergreen boughs, and winter white roses. Warm furs and silk pillows were arranged in a luxurious nest near the hearth. Incense of myrrh filled the air, and a small table held gifts wrapped in fine cloth.
They helped you into a loose, flowing gown of the softest ivory silk that draped beautifully over your swollen belly, leaving your shoulders bare. When you stepped into the room, all four women bowed their heads in reverence.
Selyse took your hand and guided you to the center of the soft pillows. “Tonight we celebrate you, my lady. And the precious life you carry. No one else will know of this blessing. It is ours alone.”
They treated you with deep adoration, as though you were sacred.
Elara gently massaged your feet with warm scented oil while Maera brushed your hair until it shone. Verra offered you sweet honeyed fruits and warm spiced milk, foods meant to nourish both you and the baby. Selyse laid her hands lightly on your rounded belly and spoke soft blessings for a safe birth and a strong child.
Selyse, ever wise, placed a small crown of dried herbs and winter berries on your head. “You are the vessel of love and life,” she murmured. “Even in these uncertain times, you bloom. We honor you as our princess… and as the mother of Sir Jungkook’s heir.”
You felt tears prick your eyes as they presented their secret gifts: tiny embroidered blankets, a soft knitted cap in deep green, a small silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a symbol of motherhood.
Vera leaned her cheek against your belly for a moment, grinning when the baby kicked in response. “He or she is strong already. Just like their father.”
You placed both hands over your swollen stomach, feeling another firm flutter. The warmth of their love and the secret celebration soothed the constant ache of missing your knight.
“Thank you,” you whispered, “All of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Elara kissed your temple. “We will keep you and this little one safe until Sir Jungkook returns. And he will return.”
The warmth of the secret celebration lingered on your skin as you returned to your chambers that night. The maids had just helped you out of the ivory silk gown when a royal messenger knocked urgently.
“The King demands your presence immediately, Your Highness. In his private study.”
You had no time to prepare. Still glowing from the love and blessings of your maids, you wrapped yourself in a heavy velvet robe that concealed your very swollen belly and followed the messenger.
The moment you entered the study, the atmosphere turned icy. Your father stood behind his desk, several of your letters spread before him.
“Daughter,” he spoke, controlled. “I have given you time to come to me yourself. I know you have been sending letters to the front lines. To Sir Jungkook, specifically.” He turned to face you, his expression stern but not yet furious. “I know of your… admiration for him. Speak truthfully now. What is this attachment?”
Your throat tightened. This was the moment. With your belly heavy with his child and your heart aching, you could no longer hide everything.
“Father…” you began, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “It is more than admiration. I love him. Sir Jungkook is the only man I want.” Your hands instinctively moved to cradle your stomach. “And I… I am carrying his child.”
Silence crashed over the room.
The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed sharply as his gaze dropped to the unmistakable swell beneath your gown. His face darkened with shock, then rage.
“You what?” he hissed. “A knight’s bastard? While I have been parading princes before you? While the entire realm waits for you to secure the throne with a proper alliance?”
“Father, please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. “It is his. Our love is real. If you would only let him return, we could—”
The King’s face twisted with fury. “You dare speak such filth to me? A royal princess swollen with a common knight’s bastard?”
You rebelled, voice shaking but defiant. “It is not filth. It is love. I will not marry Prince Min. I will not let you use me as a pawn for alliances while I carry the man I love’s child.”
“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table, making you flinch. “I have been patient with your childish infatuation, but this is treason against your bloodline. You will do as you are told! Your fate is sealed. You will marry Prince Min before the month ends.”
Later that same night, before your maids could even calm you, you found your most trusted rider in the stables. With tears streaming down your face and snow falling around you, you whispered your final message: “Tell him… tell Sir Jungkook that I will wait for him. No matter how long it takes. My heart is his alone. I will wait.”
The rider bowed and galloped into the night. No response ever came.
The next weeks were a nightmare.
Prince Min visited often, his eyes raking over your body with open lust and infatuation. He complimented your “ethereal glow”, clearly aroused by your pregnant form, but his arrogance disgusted you. He spoke openly of claiming the throne through you, of bedding you the moment you were his. You hated him with every fiber of your being.
You fought your father harder than ever, refusing to attend meetings with Prince Min, screaming that you would rather die than marry him. But the King had reached his limit.
One brutal afternoon, he summoned you again and placed a bloodied cloak and a forged letter before you.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook is dead,” he said flatly. “He fell in battle two weeks ago. This is proof.”
The world shattered.
You collapsed to the floor, a guttural sob tearing from your throat. The baby inside you kicked as if sensing your pain. From that moment, you broke completely.
You refused to eat. You barely slept. You stopped speaking, even to Elara, Verra, and Selyse who begged you through tears to think of the child. You lay in bed for days, staring at nothing, your once radiant glow fading into pale exhaustion. Your maids feared for both your life and the baby’s.
Despite how numb you had become, when your maids gently suggested taking you to Maera’s quiet home on the edge of the forest, you agreed without protest. You were taken there in secret under the cover of night.
Maera, a strong but grieving woman with the same dark eyes as her son, took you in without question. She cared for you with quiet hands and even quieter words. You didn’t speak much to her either, but you accepted her care wholeheartedly. After all, she was mourning the loss of her son, and you were mourning the loss of your lover and the father of your child.
The King, despite his fury, still sent guards to watch over you from a distance. You were still royalty, still carrying what he believed might be his grandchild. But you could only think of the protection you once had... the strongest, safest pair of arms that had ever wrapped around you.
You mourned deeply. But you couldn’t be completely selfish with a baby on the way, restless and eager to come into the world.
The labor came on a stormy night.
The pains started suddenly and violently. Maera and your maids worked frantically around you as you screamed and cried, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. The King himself had ridden out in secret when he heard you had gone into labor, standing outside the cottage with a face pale with rare fear.
He didn’t know how to comfort you. He only knew one thing, his daughter was calling for her knight in her delirium.
Even though he viewed the child as the product of a sinful affair, something in him softened at the sound of your broken sobs. He could not lose you.
Inside the cottage, you gave birth to a baby girl.
She was small, chubby, with a shock of raven hair and big, dark eyes that looked exactly like her father’s. The moment the midwife placed her on your chest, fresh tears streamed down your face.
“She looks like him…” you whispered, hoarse and broken. “My little love… she has his eyes.”
You held her close, sobbing softly as the pain and grief mixed with a fragile, overwhelming love. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop crying. You believed Sir Jungkook was dead. The thought that your daughter would never know her father tore you apart.
Maera wept beside you, gently stroking your hair. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Just like her mother.”
Outside, the King stood in the rain, waiting.
When the door finally opened and the midwife stepped out, he demanded to know if you and the child were alive. Upon hearing they both were, something in his hardened heart shifted.
He turned to his captain without a word and gave the order.
“Send riders to the western borders at once. Bring Sir Jeon Jungkook back. Tell him… his princess has need of him.”
It would take time. The borders were far, and the roads were muddy from the storms. A week, perhaps a month.
In the quiet warmth of the cottage, you held your newborn daughter against your chest, wrapped in soft linen.
You rocked her gently as she fussed against your breast, nursing hungrily. Your maids and Maera moved around you, bringing broth, fresh cloths, and ever soft words. But you barely spoke. The grief had hollowed you out.
“I wish you could meet your father,” you whispered to the baby one quiet night, voice cracking. Tears slipped down your cheeks as she latched on again. “He would have held you so carefully. He would have loved you more than anything in this world. He would have protected us both…”
Maera sat beside you, her own eyes red from mourning. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would have been so proud,” she said softly. “Of both of you.”
You could only nod, throat too tight to speak. The emptiness inside you felt endless. Every time the baby cried, every time she looked up at you with those familiar dark eyes, the pain returned like a fresh wound.
The King demanded your return to the palace, as you were still royalty, still bound to your father’s will despite carrying a child out of wedlock. He wrote letter after letter insisting you resume your duties and prepare for the inevitable marriage to Prince Min. You refused to answer most of them.
Your maids tried their best to comfort you, but even they could not reach the depths of your sorrow. The only light in your world was your daughter. Tiny, perfect, with Jungkook’s dark eyes and a tuft of raven hair. You held her constantly, whispering stories about her father, singing lullabies with a voice that often broke halfway through.
You mourned him deeply. The King had not even granted him a proper funeral. No rites. No chance to say goodbye. Just a bloodied cloak and a cold declaration.
One quiet evening, Maera left the cottage to fetch groceries from the nearby village. Your maids had been called back to the palace on the King’s orders, duties they could not refuse. For the first time in weeks, it was just you and your baby in the small, warm cottage.
You sat by the window, cradling her in your arms. She cooed softly, tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you gently rocked her. For a few precious minutes, you allowed yourself to smile a real, soft smile as you played with her little hands and kissed her forehead.
“My baby,” you whispered, “The loveliest babe. Don’t tell the queens and princesses, I think they’d be terribly jealous.”
The baby blinked up at you. “Oh, yes,” you continued solemnly. “Especially of those cheeks.”
You leaned back in the chair as exhaustion eventually won over you, your eyes growing heavy. With your daughter nestled safely against your chest, sleep claimed you quickly.
When you woke, the cottage was awfully quiet.
Your arms were empty.
Panic slammed into you like a physical blow. You shot upright, heart hammering wildly as you looked around the room.
The baby was gone.
“No… no, no, no...” you gasped, stumbling to your feet, voice rising into a broken sob. “Where is my baby?!”
You searched frantically, under the blankets, behind the chairs, near the hearth, terror clawing at your throat. Your mind spun with nightmarish possibilities. Had someone taken her? Had the King sent men to steal her away?
Then you saw him.
A tall figure standing near the doorway, cradling your daughter gently in his strong arms. She was sleeping peacefully against his chest, tiny fist curled into his tunic.
Your knees buckled.
It was Sir Jungkook.
He looked exhausted, travel worn, mud on his boots, shadows under his eyes, but he was alive. Real. His dark eyes met yours, filled with unbearable love and pain.
You stared at him, trembling violently, refusing to believe what you were seeing.
“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, this isn’t real. You’re dead. They told me you were dead. This is another dream. You always come in my dreams and then you leave me again—”
Your voice cracked into a sob as you backed away, hands clutching your chest.
“You left me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You left me and our child. I mourned you. I almost died mourning you. Please… don’t do this to me again. I can’t take another dream. I can’t wake up to find you gone again.”
Sir Jungkook’s face crumpled with anguish. He took one careful step forward, still cradling your daughter like the most precious thing in the world.
“My love,” he said hoarsely, voice breaking. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. Your father… he lied. He sent me away to the borders to keep me from you. But I came back the moment he allowed it. I rode without stopping.”
You shook your head harder, tears falling faster, refusing to believe it even as your heart screamed at you to run to him.
“You’re dead,” you repeated, voice small and shattered. “You have to be dead… because if you’re not, then you let me believe it. You never answered my letters. Not one. I wrote to you every single day, pouring my heart out, begging you to come back to me, to our child… and you never...”
Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as the pain twisted deeper.
“You were in on it, weren’t you?” you whispered, voice breaking. “You let my father tell me you were gone. You left me here to rot in grief while I carried your child alone. How could you?”
The knight’s face crumpled with agony. He took a step forward, but you flinched, and he stopped immediately, hands trembling at his sides.
Before he could speak, your daughter stirred in his arms. As if sensing the suffocating tension in the room, she let out a sharp, hungry cry, her little lips puckering, tiny fists waving.
You moved without thinking, reaching for her. Sir Jungkook gently handed her over, his hands lingering for a moment as if afraid to let go. You turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and loosening your dress to feed her. The baby latched on eagerly, her cries softening into small, contented sounds.
The knight stood there, watching you in silence. He looked lost, this battle-hardened soldier, returned from war, now completely unsure how to comfort the woman he loved. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in the middle of the room, head bowed.
“I wrote to you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every chance I had. Your father… he made sure none of my letters reached you. He wanted you to believe I was gone. I fought every day to come back to you. I almost died trying to get word to you.”
You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes on your daughter, tears falling silently onto her soft hair.
“I mourned you like a widow,” you whispered, voice thick with pain. “I almost died. And now you’re here… acting like you didn’t abandon me when I needed you most.”
The words cut awfully deep. Sir Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, but he stayed on his knees, silent and respectful, giving you the space your wounded heart demanded.
Your daughter stirred in your arms, letting out a small, distressed whimper as if she could sense the storm raging between her parents. You rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her soft raven hair.
“Shh, my sweet one,” you cooed softly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”
Sir Jungkook’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, to touch you, to hold both of you, but he remained still, jaw clenched tight. He was no longer in full armor, only a worn tunic and breeches, his appearance shambled from the long ride, fresh bruises blooming across his knuckles and jaw.
You turned away from him, focusing on the small tasks that had become your life in the cottage. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the roof like a relentless drum.
You moved about the space, stirring the pot of stew over the fire, folding fresh linens, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from breaking completely.
Hours passed in heavy silence. When your daughter finally grew fussy again, you nursed her by the hearth until her little eyes fluttered shut. You laid her gently in the wooden cradle Maera had prepared, stroking her cheek one last time before covering her with a soft blanket.
Only then did you notice movement near the door.
Sir Jungkook was standing there, cloak in hand, quietly preparing to leave.
Something inside you fractured. You stepped toward him, voice cracking. “You’re leaving again?”
He turned slowly, eyes filled with torment. “I was only going to check the perimeter. The rain is heavy, and I… I didn’t want to burden you further.”
You stared at him, this warrior who had survived hell just to return to you, and the dam finally broke.
“Come here,” you whispered.
He obeyed without hesitation.
You led him to your bed and with trembling hands, you began removing his tunic, revealing the damage the war had left behind.
New bruises painted his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Fresh scars, still healing, cut across his chest and abdomen. He looked harder, a man who had walked through fire and barely returned.
Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to stay steady. You turned away briefly, gathering clean linen strips, salve, and a bowl of warm water. When you returned, the knight stood perfectly still, letting you see all of him, the bruises, the brutal evidence of everything he had endured just to return to you.
You began tending to him in silence, your hands gentle as you cleaned a particularly nasty cut along his side. But the more you looked, the more the dam inside you cracked.
“What have they done to you, Jungkook?” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you carefully wrapped a bandage around his ribs. “You’re… you’re covered in pain. All of this… just to come back to me?”
He stood motionless, letting you care for him, but his dark eyes never left your face.
“I would go through it a thousand times more,” he said softly, “if it meant coming back to you and our daughter.”
You shook your head, fresh tears falling as you pressed a bandage over another wound. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I can’t bear thinking of you suffering like this. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, and now you’re here… broken because of me.”
Sir Jungkook slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you, even though you were still trying to tend to him. The powerful knight, the man who had survived war, knelt before you like the loyal protector he had always been.
“Your Highness,” he murmured, head slightly bowed, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I wasn’t here when you carried our child. I wasn’t here when you gave birth. I wasn’t here when they told you I was gone. Forgive me.”
You dropped the bandages and pulled him into your arms, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, clinging to you like a man who had almost lost everything.
A broken sob tore from his throat.
Your knight, your warrior, the strongest person you had ever known, cried against your chest like a child. Deep, shuddering sobs that shook his powerful frame as his arms tightened around you.
“I thought I lost you,” he choked out, voice muffled against your skin. “Every night on the border, I prayed I would make it back to you. To both of you.”
You held him tighter, fingers threading through his raven hair, your own tears falling onto his head.
“You’re here now,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re here. You came back to us. That’s all that matters.”
For a long time, the only sounds in the cottage were the rain outside, the crackling fire, and the quiet, heartbroken sobs of a knight who had finally returned to his princess.
—
The rain had not eased by the middle of the night. It hammered against the thatched roof like an impatient army. You had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms on the narrow bed, your daughter nestled safely in her cradle beside you. For the first time in months, your sleep was deep and dreamless.
A sharp knock on the cottage door shattered the peace.
Sir Jungkook was awake in an instant. He slipped from the bed silently, pulling on his tunic and reaching for the sword he had left by the door. His body was still tense from war, every muscle ready for threat.
“Stay here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I will see who it is.”
But you already knew.
A cold certainty settled in your chest. You rose, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, and followed him despite his warning. Your daughter stirred but remained asleep.
Sir Jungkook opened the door, sword half drawn, rain pouring behind the figure standing outside.
It was the King.
Your father stood in the downpour, cloak heavy with water, face pale and drawn. Guards waited at a respectful distance, torches flickering weakly in the storm. His eyes moved past your knight and landed on you.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then the King stepped inside without invitation, water dripping onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened when it fell on you — his only daughter, still pale from childbirth, carrying the weight of grief and motherhood.
“My child,” he said, voice rough. “You must return to the palace. You are still royalty. Still my blood. You do not belong in a cottage like this.”
You stood straighter, even as exhaustion and lingering pain made your body ache.
“I belong where I choose,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “And I will not return without Sir Jeon. He is my knight. He is the father of my daughter. He stays with me.”
The King’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jungkook, who stood tall and silent beside you, sword now lowered but ready.
“I know what you are to each other,” the King said heavily. “I have known for some time. Prince Min is a fool and a coward, but his bloodline is strong. The alliance—”
“I will not marry him,” you cut in, voice steady despite the tears gathering in your eyes. “I will return to the palace. I will perform my duties as princess, as future queen. I will be the ruler this kingdom needs. But only if Sir Jungkook remains at my side. As my knight. As the man I have chosen. As the only man with any right to me.”
The King looked at you for a long time. He saw the woman you had become, not just his rebellious daughter, but a figure of quiet strength. The people in the surrounding villages spoke of you with reverence. They told stories of the princess who helped common women, shared food during hard winters, who listened to their troubles as if they mattered as much as any noble’s.
The King exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Sir Jeon will return with you. He will remain your personal knight. But this… affair… must remain hidden from the court. For now.”
You nodded once, relief flooding through you.
The King’s gaze drifted to the cradle where your daughter slept. He had not yet seen her. You had kept her away from him, protecting her with every fiber of your being.
He took one hesitant step toward the cradle, then stopped, as if afraid.
The King’s shoulders sagged. For the first time in years, he looked truly old.
“Bring her home,” he said quietly. “Both of you. We will find a way.”
When the heavy door of the cottage finally closed behind your father, you let out a huge, shaky sigh. The weight of the conversation pressed on your chest like a stone. You turned and walked to the cradle, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She stirred but settled quickly against your chest.
Sir Jungkook followed silently behind you, his presence warm.
“I would not trust him,” you whispered, voice laced with bitterness. “My father lied. He did all of this, told me you were dead, kept us apart, made me believe I had lost you forever. How can I believe a single word he says now?”
Jungkook stepped closer. He gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head as you held your daughter.
“Petal,” he murmured softly, the old endearment slipping out like a balm. “Your father is a hard man, but he is not as cold as he pretends to be. He sent for me the moment he learned you had gone into labor. He could have kept me away forever. But he didn’t.”
You turned slightly in his arms, eyes wide with disbelief.
The knight continued, low and calm.
“There was one night… when you were still heavy with our child and very sick. I rode through a storm to reach you. Your father allowed it. He let me see you. I held you while you slept, fevered and restless. I whispered to you. I kissed your forehead and promised I would return. But I had to leave before dawn. He made me swear not to wake you. He said it would only make the pain worse when I had to go back to the borders.”
You stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up again.
“That night… it was real?” you whispered. “I thought it was a dream. I thought I imagined your arms around me.”
“It was real,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was there. And I have regretted leaving you every single day since.”
You turned fully toward him, still cradling your daughter. The baby had woken and was fussing softly. You loosened your dress and began to feed her.
Sir Jungkook watched the two of you with such open love and longing that it made your chest ache.
“She has your eyes,” you said softly, brushing a finger over your daughter’s cheek. “So dark and beautiful. Just like yours.”
Sir Jungkook’s expression softened further. He reached out, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand.
“And she is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. “I hope she grows to be as strong as her. As kind. As full of fire and love.”
For a while, the only sounds were the soft suckling of your daughter and the rain pattering against the roof. Sir Jungkook stayed close, one arm around your waist, the other lightly resting near the baby.
Eventually, after your daughter had fallen asleep again, you made the decision.
“We will return to the palace,” you said quietly. “Together. As a family. I will not hide anymore.”
The next morning, after tender farewells to Maera, who hugged you both tightly and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead with tears in her eyes, you left the cottage.
—
Three Months Later,
The palace had transformed around you.
After your return, the finest healers in the realm were summoned, learned men and women versed in herbs and ancient remedies. They tended to you with the utmost care, restoring the strength you had lost in grief and childbirth. Slowly, the hollow exhaustion faded. Color returned to your cheeks. Your body healed, and with it, your spirit bloomed once more.
You were treated not merely as royalty, but as something sacred. The people whispered that the Princess had returned more radiant than before, as if the earth itself had blessed her.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and Selyse, were beyond ecstatic to have you back. They fussed over you constantly, brushing your long hair until it shone, dressing you in the finest silks, and whispering prayers of gratitude for your safe return.
The kingdom now knew the truth: the child was Sir Jeon Jungkook’s. The scandal had spread like wildfire, but instead of outrage, most of the people embraced it. They saw their princess glowing, and fiercely protected.
Prince Min had tried to slander you upon his return, calling you impure, unfit, a disgrace for bearing a knight’s child out of wedlock. Sir Jungkook had nearly killed him in the great hall before the King’s guards pulled him back. Prince Min was expelled from the kingdom that very day, the alliance shattered. No one mourned his departure.
It was a warm evening when you returned to the royal bathing pool, surrounded by floating lily pads and fragrant white blossoms. The water shimmered under the sunlight as your maids helped you undress. Your daughter, now three months old and full of life, babbled happily in Elara’s arms, reaching for you with chubby little hands.
“Come here, my sweet,” you cooed, taking her into the warm water with you. She immediately nestled against your bare chest, tiny fingers grasping at your long, wavy hair as you gently rocked her. She was a needy little thing, always wanting her mother’s warmth, her scent, her voice.
Verra smiled as she poured scented oil over your shoulders. “She adores you, my lady. Look at those big, bejeweled eyes.”
You glanced toward the far bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, as always. He was no longer forced to hide. He remained your personal knight, ever watchful and devoted. His gaze met yours across the water, soft with love and quiet pride. He had become even more protective since your return, rarely leaving your side unless duty demanded it.
The King had grown strangely silent on the matter of your relationship. Seeing you flourish and beloved by the people, had turned him into something of a coward when it came to opposing you.
He doted on his granddaughter in private, though he still struggled to fully accept the circumstances. Yet he no longer pushed for any other marriage. He had seen what happened when he tried to separate you from your knight.
Bit by bit, your beauty had deepened into something almost otherworldly, skin luminous, eyes bright with life, a gentle fullness to your figure from motherhood that only made you more captivating. You moved through the palace performing your duties with grace while still finding time to help the common women who came to the gates seeking aid. You had become more than a princess.
At night, when the palace slept, Sir Jungkook was yours completely.
He would slip into your chambers, shed his armor, and worship you with slow hands and mouth. He made love to you like a man who had walked through hell and returned only for this. You clung to him every night, whispering how much you loved him, how you had chosen him long before the crown ever mattered.
Your daughter babbled softly, pulling at your long hair again with her tiny fist, drawing a soft, delighted laugh from you.
“Oh, my little one,” you cooed, gently untangling her fingers from your waves before pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “You are going to pull Mama’s hair right off if you keep that up, aren’t you? Such a strong little flower.”
She giggled in your arms, reaching up to pat your face with her small, uncoordinated hand, her big dark eyes, exact replicas of her father’s, sparkling with pure joy. The resemblance was almost startling even at such a young age. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
Elara sighed dreamily as she poured warm water over your shoulders. “Look at her, my lady. She is perfection. She already has the whole palace wrapped around her tiny finger.”
Verra nodded, gently massaging oil into your hair. “And you, my princess. You glow like the sun itself these days. Motherhood suits you more than any crown ever could.”
Selyse, ever the wise one, glanced toward the bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, fully armored but with his helmet removed today. A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips.
“And that one over there… he can’t take his eyes off the two of you. Look at him, standing there like a lovesick fool in steel. Our fierce knight, brought to his knees by a baby and her mother.”
The knight’s ears turned faintly red, but he didn’t deny it. His gaze remained soft, locked on you and your daughter with quiet awe and devotion.
Later that evening, in the royal rose gardens where he had once walked beside you as your new knight, Sir Jungkook carried your daughter in his arms.
He was still in full armor, crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but he held her with such careful gentleness it made your heart melt. The baby was dressed in the softest cream colored gown embroidered with tiny golden flowers, a little bonnet tied under her chin. She looked like a living doll against his armored chest.
She reached up with both hands, grabbing at the edge of his armor, babbling excitedly as she tried to pull herself closer to his face. When he leaned down, she patted his cheek with a wet, sloppy kiss.
Sir Jungkook’s entire expression softened into something almost boyish. He smiled, genuine and devastatingly handsome.
“My little love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
You walked beside them, heart full as you watched your daughter play with the buckles on his armor. Every time he lowered his head to let her see his face, she lit up. But when he playfully put his helmet back on for a moment to tease her, she immediately fussed, letting out a small, indignant cry and reaching for him with both arms.
“No helmet,” you laughed softly. “She hates it. She wants to see her father’s face.”
Sir Jungkook removed it immediately, tucking it under one arm while cradling her with the other. He leaned down so she could press her tiny palms against his cheeks and give him another sloppy kiss on the jaw.
The maids watching from a distance cooed and teased him lightly.
“Look at that,” Verra whispered loudly enough for him to hear. “Who would have thought the man who survived the western borders would be brought down by tiny hands and gummy smiles?”
Later that night, the heavy oak door to your royal chambers was barred, only the soft glow of candles and the low fire in the hearth illuminated the room.
You stood before the tall mirror, slowly changing into your nightgown. The fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your body. Your gaze caught on the beautiful ring on your finger, the one Sir Jungkook had slipped onto your hand in secret weeks ago, a quiet promise between the two of you. You turned it gently, a small, private smile touching your lips.
Your daughter lay nestled against your bare chest, warm and content, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of your loosened gown. She babbled softly, her big dark eyes full of adoration for her mother.
Sir Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, fully armored except for his helmet, watching the two of you with quiet awe. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every healed scar and the lingering shadows of war that still clung to him.
You gently laid your daughter in her ornate cradle, pressing one last kiss to her forehead as she drifted into sleep. Then you returned to the mirror, picking up the silver brush to run it through your long, wavy hair.
Sir Jungkook followed without a word. He stopped behind you, his large hands resting lightly on your waist. Slowly, he leaned down and began pressing soft kisses along your bare arms, from shoulder to wrist, as you continued brushing your hair.
You giggled softly, cheeks flushing with that familiar shyness even after all this time.
“Jungkook…” you murmured, breathy. “You ought to distract me.”
“Good,” he whispered against your skin, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “I have missed you all day. I need my darling.”
He dropped to his knees behind you with a quiet clink of armor, bowing his head in his familiar, devoted way. You turned to face him, running your fingers through his raven hair, then tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scars that remained on his face.
You saddened for a moment, remembering the brutality he had endured.
But he looked up at you with such pure worship that it took your breath away. To him, you were more than a princess. you were his salvation, the very source of life that had healed him.
You pulled him closer, and he rose, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you to the grand bed.
The knight laid you down gently, then began to worship you with slow, reverent hands. He unlaced your nightgown with painstaking care, peeling the silk away until you were bare before him. His mouth found your breasts immediately, sucking softly on one sensitive nipple, then the other, drinking the sweet milk that flowed for him with deep, grateful groans.
You moaned softly, fingers threading through his hair as he fed from you, his tongue swirling, lips sealed tight around your peak. He drank like a man who had been starving for you, savoring every drop as if it were the very essence of life itself.
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply against your breast, the sound vibrating through your chest as he drank almost desperately. His large hand cradled the soft weight of your breast, squeezing gently to draw more from you while his other hand stroked your side with reverent tenderness.
“So sweet,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and worshipful. “You give me life, my petal. You heal what war tried to break.”
You whimpered, arching into his mouth, overwhelmed by the intimate, sacred act, fresh heat blooming between your thighs.
When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with dark, adoring eyes.
“You are my salvation,” he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts before moving lower. “The mother of my child. The light that brought me home.”
When he finally moved lower, he spread your thighs with firm hands and settled between them. He looked up at you once, eyes dark with devotion, before lowering his mouth to your core.
He worshipped your flower, seeking nectar with slow, deep licks that made your back arch, followed by gentle suction on your swollen clit. His tongue delved inside you, tasting every inch, groaning at your sweetness as if it were the most sacred thing he had ever known.
You whimpered and moaned, hips rolling against his handsome face as pleasure built in waves. He was relentless yet tender, bringing you to the edge again and again before letting you tip over.
When you finally begged for him, voice trembling with need, Sir Jungkook rose above you like a knight before his altar.
He did not rush. Instead, he sat back on his heels, dark eyes drinking in every inch of your bare, flushed body with such raw hunger that it made your skin burn. You felt vulnerable and impossibly desired under that gaze. A shy, breathless giggle escaped your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.
Sir Jungkook reached out with one large, calloused hand and traced a single finger slowly down your body, from the delicate line of your throat, between your heaving breasts, over the soft curve of your belly, and down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch ever so feather light, yet it left fire in its wake.
“You are a goddess made flesh,” he whispered, voice hoarse with awe. “And I am but a mortal who has been granted the honor of kneeling at your feet.”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead to your thigh in a gesture of pure worship, eyes closed, breath warm against your skin as if he were praying to the only deity he had ever believed in.
Then he moved over you, settling between your spread thighs. His thick cock pressed against your entrance, hot and heavy. He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed inside, inch by thick, stretching inch, filling you so completely that your mouth fell open in a silent cry.
You dug your nails into his back as he began to move, first slow and loving, then harder, deeper, claiming you with every thrust.
“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, hips snapping forward. “I love you more than life itself.”
When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes. Jungkook followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a low, broken groan, filling you with pulse after pulse of his release.
In the quiet that followed, with the knight’s arms still wrapped around you and the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, it was strangely easy to remember the day he had first knelt before the throne.
The impenetrable knight clad in steel, sworn to protect a princess draped in silk. and protect you he would, as though it had been carved into the marrow of every breath he would draw, for eternity.
editing thid in a few hours. thankyou so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very much appreciated mwah love you all 🫶💋
as your boyfriend hungrily makes the most passionate love to you, you soon come to the realisation that it's his trouble-making twin brother instead – the 'bad boy' who intrigues you more than anything, the one who often corrupts your thoughts – the man who secretly obsesses over you.
genre – secret pining au, angst, fluff, smut.
pairing – bf's twin brother jungkook x fem reader.
warnings – oc's boyfriend is a dick, cheating, jk is secretly obsessed with oc and a little pervy, explicit language, mentions of intimacy between oc and her boyfriend, a lot of smut between oc and jk (will add specific details in the chapter)
note – had 1k words of this in my drafts for over a year, but after reading and OBSESSING over @wintrbears The wife Trap, I've been extremely motivated finish it up hehe. (thank you for beautiful story and some inspiration, queen!!!)
lmk if anyone wants to be tagged. will post this lil oneshot next month!!
You and Jungkook are a pair made in hell heaven — you're both stupidly obsessed, crazy and extremely desperate for one another. Being broken up for five months does not stop the both of you from being in each other's lives — whether it's spending quality time, sabotaging each other's dates or even making love...
genre – crazy exes au, SMUT, fluff, rom-com¿
pairing – ex boyfriend jungkook x female reader.
warnings – gulp, I'm walking on thin ice so I'm going to mention a few. y/n and jk are crazy (in a kinda cute way), they're EXTREMELY obsessed with each other, they're both very possessive and jealous (jk is more), oral (both receiving), fingering, titty worship, multiple os, a lot of cracking. (more will be mentioned).
note – just posting my wips to motivate myself to work on them faster lol. lmk if you wanna be tagged in this one, pookies🩷
— In which a stupid high school bet turns into full psychological warfare. He thinks he can break the campus ice queen in three weeks to win a motorcycle, but she already knows his secret. What starts as mutual hatred and brutal, toxic insults quickly explodes into a dangerous physical addiction where neither is willing to back down, leading all the way to a devastating public revenge on graduation night.
— academic rivals to enemies with benefits | hate-love dynamic | high school seniors to college | toxic relationship | brutal banter | rough sex | mutual obsession | incredibly toxic and manipulative behaviors, | rude/mean dynamics|consensual but aggressive enemies-to-lovers. Reader discretion is highly advised. | word count: 11k
This for berry @mikrokookiex u better read it this time 🤍
"You're breathing my air, Jungkook. Move."
Jungkook didn't even blink. He leaned his lower back against the sleek marble kitchen counter of the crowded beach house, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. A slow, incredibly annoying smirk spread across his face as his dark eyes locked onto yours. He took a deliberate, slow sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact.
"The kitchen belongs to whoever gets here first," he said, his voice a low, gravelly scratch that usually made girls at Westbridge High lose their minds. To you, it just sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "Besides, there’s plenty of space. You’re just annoyed because my presence is throwing off your aesthetic."
You let out a cold, humorless laugh, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him. The bass from the living room speakers vibrated through the floorboards, but the space between the two of you felt dead silent, thick with pure malice. You were wearing your favorite black dress—the one that made you look like an untouchable queen—and you used every bit of your height to look down your nose at him.
"Your presence throws off my mood, which is worse," you snapped, your voice dripping with sweet poison. "And trust me, Jeon, your aesthetic is entirely salvageable if you just put a bag over your head. Now, get out of my way before I accidentally spill this red wine all over your ridiculously expensive, try-hard jacket."
Jungkook’s smirk didn't fade, but his eyes darkened. He loved this. He lived for it. Everyone else in the graduating class walked on eggshells around him because he was wealthy, insanely attractive, and possessed a ruthless streak that could ruin a person's social life with a single rumor. But you? You were the ice queen of the senior hall. You didn't walk on eggshells; you crushed them under your designer heels.
"Try it," he dared softly, leaning down just an inch so his face was level with yours. "Spill it. See what happens."
"Is that a threat?"
"It’s a promise, sweetheart."
You held his gaze for three agonizing seconds, the air between you practically sparking with fire, before you forcefully shoved past his shoulder, making sure to hit him hard enough to make him stumble back against the counter. You didn't look back as you walked out into the humid night air, but you could practically feel his eyes burning a hole in your spine.
Ten minutes later, you were standing on the darkened back balcony, away from the sweaty bodies and the blinding strobe lights of the end-of-term party. You needed a second to breathe without looking at Jeon Jungkook’s stupid, perfect face.
You leaned against the wooden railing, looking out at the dark ocean waves. You took a deep breath, letting the cool wind calm the irritation bubbling in your chest.
Then, you heard voices right below you.
"There is no way in hell, man. She’ll castrate you before you even get her phone number."
It was Mingyu’s voice, loud and slightly drunk, coming from the shadows of the patio directly beneath the balcony.
"I’m serious," another voice chimed in. Yugyeom. "She’s not a girl, she’s a black widow. She literally ruined Seojun’s life last semester because he breathed too loudly next to her in AP Lit. You can’t tame that."
You froze, your fingers gripping the wooden railing tightly. You quietly leaned over the edge, peer-reading through the darkness. There, sitting on the outdoor lounge chairs with red solo cups in their hands, were Jungkook’s closest boys.
And standing right in the middle of them, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his silver lighter, was Jungkook himself. The small orange flame illuminated his sharp jawline and the arrogant tilt of his head.
"I don't need to tame her," Jungkook said, his voice chillingly calm as he blew a cloud of smoke into the night air. "I just need her to fall for me. There's a difference."
"A bet's a bet, Jeon," Mingyu laughed, slapping his knee. "One month. If you can get her to actually date you—like, hold your hand in the hallway, look at you like she doesn't want to murder you, and admit she’s yours—we buy you that vintage motorcycle you've been drooling over. But when she rejects you and shatters your tiny little ego into a million pieces, you hand over the keys to your car."
You felt the blood in your veins turn to absolute ice. A bet. They were turning you into a game.
You waited, holding your breath, wanting to hear exactly what the bastard would say.
Jungkook let out a low, cocky chuckle. He took another drag of his cigarette, looking up toward the sky, completely unaware that you were looking right down at him.
"A month is too long," Jungkook said, his tone full of disgusting confidence. "Give me three weeks. By graduation night, she’ll be begging me to be her boyfriend. The ice queen is going to melt, boys. Watch me."
Up on the balcony, your shock instantly melted away, replaced by a roaring, burning wave of fury. Your jaw clenched so hard it ached. How dare he? How dare he think he could play you like one of his stupid little video games? He thought he was the ultimate predator at Westbridge High. He thought everyone played by his rules.
A dangerous, slow smile crept onto your lips. The anger in your chest crystallized into something sharp, cold, and beautiful.
Oh, Jeon Jungkook, you thought, watching him laugh with his friends below. You just picked the wrong girl to mess with.
You weren't going to expose him. That would be too easy, too boring. No, you were going to play along. You were going to let him think he was winning. You would let him pull out every single one of his smooth, pathetic, charming tricks, and right when he thought he had you in the palm of his hand... you were going to destroy him. You would make him fall so hard his head would spin, and then you would break his heart in front of the entire school.
The game was on.
The next Monday morning, the school hallway was a chaotic mess of seniors counting down the days to graduation. Lockers were slamming, people were laughing, and the energy was high.
You walked through the front doors, your hair perfectly styled, your chin held high. People naturally moved out of your way, knowing better than to cross your path before you had your morning iced coffee. You reached your locker, spinning the lock with practiced ease.
"Good morning, sunshine."
A heavy weight leaned against the locker right next to yours. You didn't even have to look up to know who it was. The scent of expensive cologne and mint gave him away instantly.
Jungkook was leaning against the metal door, dressed in a black leather jacket, his dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. He gave you a look that he probably thought was irresistible. It was his signature "I’m trouble, but you want me" look.
You slowly closed your locker door, turning your body to face him. Usually, you would have told him to drop dead within two seconds. But today, you had a script to play.
You let your eyes travel down his body, slowly, deliberately, making sure he noticed your inspection. Then, you looked back up, your expression completely blank, almost bored.
"You're in my light, Jungkook," you said smoothly, keeping your voice even.
"I am the light, babe," he replied, flashing a grin that showed off his sharp canine teeth. He stepped a bit closer, invading your personal space. He reached out, his fingers hovering just an inch away from a strand of your hair, before he gently tucked it behind your ear. His touch was warm, but it made your skin crawl with competitive adrenaline. "You looked beautiful at the party on Saturday, by the way. Even when you were trying to murder me with your eyes."
Um, so Phase One of his plan has begun, you thought. The cheesy compliments.
Instead of slapping his hand away like you normally would, you stayed perfectly still. You tilted your head, a tiny, almost unnoticeable smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It was a bait smile. A dangerous one.
"Are you hitting on me, Jeon?" you asked, your voice dropping to a softer, almost teasing whisper. "Because if you are, it’s a bit pathetic. I thought you had better game than that."
Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He had clearly expected you to snap at him, to yell, or to walk away. The fact that you were standing your ground and talking back with a soft tone caught him completely off guard. Your reaction wasn't in his playbook.
His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, his eyes narrowing with newfound interest.
"Maybe I am," he murmured, leaning his head down, his voice dropping into that dangerous, intimate register. "Maybe I’ve realized that the mean girls are much more interesting than the nice ones."
"Is that so?" You stepped even closer to him, so close that his chest almost brushed against yours. You could see the slight flare of his nostrils as his breath hitched. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your expression a perfect mix of mockery and temptation. "Well, let me give you a piece of advice, Jungkook. I don't do 'interesting.' And I definitely don't do boys who try too hard."
Before he could respond, you patted his chest twice with your hand—right over his heart, feeling the steady, rapid beat against your palm—and walked past him toward your first class.
Jungkook stayed frozen by the lockers for a moment, watching your retreating figure. He ran a hand through his hair, a genuine, frustrated laugh escaping his lips. His heart was actually beating faster, and it pissed him off.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. This wasn't going to be a simple walk in the park. She wasn't just mean—she was smart.
By the time lunch rolled around, the entire cafeteria was buzzing. You sat at your usual table near the large glass windows, surrounded by the top tier of the school's social ladder. You weren't really listening to whatever drama your friend was talking about; your eyes were fixed on the entrance.
Right on cue, Jungkook entered with his boys. He looked around the crowded room until his eyes found yours.
Instead of looking away, you held his gaze. You picked up your strawberry, taking a slow, deliberate bite while looking directly at him.
Jungkook’s stride slowed down. His friends noticed, looking between him and your table. Jungkook murmured something to Mingyu, broke away from his group, and walked straight toward your table. The entire cafeteria seemed to grow quieter, dozens of heads turning to watch the collision of the school’s two most dangerous seniors.
He stopped right at the edge of your table, placing both hands on the surface, leaning forward.
"We’re going out tonight," he said. It wasn't a question. It was a command.
Your friends gasped softly, staring at him like he had lost his mind. Nobody spoke to you like that.
You wiped your mouth with a napkin, entirely unbothered. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs. "Excuse me? Did I miss a chapter where I suddenly care about what you want?"
"Seven o'clock. I’ll pick you up," Jungkook continued, ignoring your bite. His eyes were intensely focused, a challenging glint in them. "Unless, of course, the ice queen is too scared to spend two hours alone with me."
Ah. Reverse psychology. How incredibly basic.
You let out a soft sigh, looking at him like he was a mildly amusing puppy. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to get you alone so he could charm you, make his move, and secure the bet. And you wanted to get him alone so you could start breaking his sanity.
"Scared of you?" you asked softly, loud enough for your friends to hear. You stood up, picking up your tray. You leaned across the table, your face just inches from his, mirroring his posture. The energy between you was so sharp the people sitting next to you looked uncomfortable. "Keep dreaming, Jeon. I'll give you two hours. But let’s make one thing clear: if you bore me, I’m leaving you on the side of the road."
Jungkook’s eyes flared with a mix of triumph and something hotter, something greedier. "Deal."
"Seven o'clock," you whispered, giving him a cold, gorgeous smile that didn't reach your eyes. "Don't be late. I hate waiting."
As you walked away to trash your lunch tray, you felt a massive rush of adrenaline. He thought he had just won the first round. He thought he had successfully baited you into a date. He had absolutely no idea that he had just walked right into a trap of his own making.
The hunter thought he was tracking a deer, but he had just poked a sleeping lion.
The black sports car pulled up to your curb at exactly 6:59 PM.
You watched from your second-story bedroom window as the sleek engine purred to a halt. Jungkook didn’t get out to open your door. He just sat there, the headlights cutting through the twilight, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He wanted to see if you’d make him wait.
You let out a slow, amused breath, checking your reflection one last time. You wore a tight, cropped white top, baggy low-rise cargo pants, and sharp designer boots. It was casual, effortless, and screamed I didn’t try at all for you.
You walked out of the house at exactly 7:10 PM.
When you pulled open the passenger door and slid into the leather seat, the scent of his expensive, smoky cologne hit you instantly. The interior of the car was immaculate, glowing with faint blue ambient lights.
Jungkook was leaning back, one wrist resting lazily on top of the steering wheel. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes scanning your outfit with a slow, calculating gaze. A familiar, mocking smirk played on his lips.
"Ten minutes late," he said, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered. "Trying to make a statement, sweetheart?"
"I was busy forgetting you were coming," you replied instantly, your tone dripping with sweet, careless malice. You pulled down the sun visor to check your lip gloss in the mirror, not even giving him a real glance. "Be glad I showed up at all. Drive."
Jungkook let out a low, dry chuckle. He shifted the car into drive, the tires screeching slightly as he pulled away from the curb with a bit too much speed. He was trying to intimidate you with his driving. Typical.
"You look like you’re going to a streetwear photoshoot, not a date," he remarked, his dark eyes flicking to you before focusing back on the road.
"That’s because this isn't a date," you said smoothly, snapping the sun visor back up. You crossed your arms, leaning back comfortably. "This is an audition. And so far, your conversation is getting a failing grade. Where are you taking me, Jeon? If it’s some tacky diner, I’m jumping out at the next red light."
"Relax," he murmured, his smirk widening. "I have taste. Unlike your exes."
"Bold of you to assume anyone compares to you in the tacky department," you shot back, looking out the window. "Your leather jacket looks like it was stolen from a middle-aged biker."
Jungkook’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white. You saw the faint twitch in his jaw. Score one for me, you thought, a surge of vicious satisfaction rushing through your veins. He hated his style being questioned. He prided himself on looking flawless.
"Keep talking," Jungkook muttered, his voice dropping into a lower, rougher register that vibrated through the quiet car. "We’ll see if you keep that same energy in twenty minutes."
Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up to an exclusive, high-end rooftop arcade and lounge overlooking the city skyline. It was the kind of place that required a heavy membership fee, glowing with neon purple lights and filled with vintage game cabinets, private booths, and a sleek bar. It was empty tonight—he had clearly rented out the entire terrace.
"Impressive," you said, stepping out of the car and looking around the neon-lit space. You turned to him, putting a hand on your hip. "Did you use your daddy’s credit card for this, or did you actually have to use two brain cells to make a phone call?"
Jungkook closed his car door with a loud thud, walking over to stand right in front of you. The neon purple light caught the sharp angles of his face, making him look dangerously handsome. He was tall, his broad shoulders completely blocking your view of the city behind him. He stepped so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.
"I use my own money," he said softly, leaning down just enough so his breath brushed against your ear. The sudden proximity made your pulse jump, but you refused to move back a single inch. "And I don't need a script to deal with a girl like you. Pick a game. Let's see if your skills match your mouth."
"Oh, they exceed it," you whispered back, looking directly into his dark, intense eyes. The physical tension between you was so heavy it felt like a physical weight, pressing against your chest. You were both practically vibrating with the urge to tear each other down. "Name the stakes, Jeon."
Jungkook walked over to a vintage racing simulator—two leather seats with steering wheels and massive screens side by side. He patted the top of one seat.
"Three rounds. Corner drifting allowed," he said, his eyes flashing with a competitive fire. "If I win, you have to let me hold your hand on the walk back to the car. In public."
Your mind immediately flashed to the bet. Ah, he’s trying to secure his first milestone for his friends. Holding hands in public was step one.
You let out a soft, mocking laugh, stepping up to the machine. "And when I win?"
"If you win, you can ask for whatever you want."
"When I win," you corrected him sharply, sliding into the leather racing seat, "you are going to carry my shopping bags across the entire school courtyard tomorrow during lunch. Like a good little assistant."
Jungkook’s eyes flared with pure, undiluted irritation at the thought of his reputation being ruined like that. He sat down in the seat next to yours, his long legs barely fitting under the machine. "Deal. Prepare to cry, sweetheart."
The game started. The countdown flashed on the screen: 3... 2... 1... GO.
For the next ten minutes, the arcade was filled with the aggressive clicking of buttons and the screeching of digital tires. You weren't just good; you were ruthless. Every time Jungkook tried to pass your digital car, you deliberately rammed your vehicle into his, forcing him into the wall.
"Are you serious right now?" Jungkook growled, violently spinning his steering wheel to recover from a crash you caused. "That's dirty playing!"
"There are no rules in war, Jeon," you mocked, your eyes glued to the screen as you took a sharp turn, keeping the lead. "Cry louder. It helps me focus."
He let out a frustrated, breathless sound, his focus intensifying. His face was dead serious, his veins popping slightly on his forearms as he gripped the wheel. By the final lap of the third round, your cars were neck and neck. The finish line was right there.
In a split-second move, Jungkook smoothly drifted around the final corner, clipping the back of your car just enough to spin you out, and crossed the finish line a fraction of a second before you.
The screen flashed: PLAYER 1 WINS.
Jungkook threw his hands up, a loud, triumphant laugh bursting from his chest. He looked over at you, his face glowing with pure, arrogant victory. "Yes! Look at that! Who's the assistant now?"
You sat back in your seat, your jaw clenched, staring at the screen in genuine frustration. You hated losing more than anything. You slowly turned your head to look at him, your expression dark and murderous.
"You got lucky," you snapped, stepping out of the seat.
"A win is a win," Jungkook said, stepping out of his seat too. He blocked your path before you could walk away, his chest almost touching yours. He was breathing a bit heavily from the intensity of the game, a smug, unbearable grin plastered across his face. He extended his right hand toward you, his fingers open. "Pay up. Hand."
You stared at his hand like it was covered in garbage. "We are in an empty arcade, Jungkook. There's no one around to see it."
"I don't care," he murmured, his voice suddenly losing its playful edge, becoming deep and heavy. He took a half-step closer, completely invading your space. The smell of his cologne, the neon lights, and the absolute silence of the rooftop made the atmosphere suffocatingly tense. "A deal's a deal. Give me your hand."
You looked up at him, your breath catching for a brief second at the sheer intensity in his gaze. He wasn't just playing a game anymore; he wanted to break your resistance.
Slowly, deliberately, you lifted your hand. But instead of placing your palm in his, you forcefully grabbed his wrist, twisting it slightly so he was forced to step closer, his chest pressing right against yours. You looked up at him with a cold, fierce smile.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Jeon," you whispered, your voice a soft, dangerous hiss against his lips. You were so close you could see the dark golden flecks in his eyes. "You won a video game. You didn't win me. You want to hold my hand? Earn it."
You let go of his wrist with a harsh flick, pushing past his shoulder.
Jungkook stood frozen by the game machines, his heart thudding violently against his ribs. He looked down at his wrist where your fingers had just been, his skin burning from the contact. The bitchy, confident attitude you had wasn't pushing him away—it was pulling him in like a black hole. He was supposed to be making you fall, but every time you looked at him like he was nothing, it made him want to conquer her even more.
By the time he drove you back to your house, the moon was high in the sky. The drive back had been filled with more biting banter, neither of you willing to let the other have the last word.
He pulled up to your curb, idling the engine.
You unbuckled your seatbelt, turning to him with a bored expression. "Well, that was mildly amusing. You get a C-minus for effort."
"C-minus?" Jungkook repeated, leaning his head back against his seat, turning to look at you with a dry smile. "I literally rented out a whole rooftop for you."
"And you lost your temper over a racing game," you replied smoothly, opening the passenger door. "Goodnight, Jeon. Try not to dream about me too much. I know it’s hard."
Before he could respond with another sarcastic comment, you slid out of the car and shut the door behind you.
You walked up your front steps, feeling his eyes tracking your every move through the tinted glass of his car. You didn't look back until you reached the front door. When you finally turned around, you saw the taillights of his sports car disappear down the street.
You walked into your quiet house, leaning your back against the closed front door. Your heart was beating remarkably fast, the adrenaline from the night still rushing through your veins.
"Three weeks," you whispered to the empty hallway, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across your lips. "Let's see who breaks first, Jungkook."
The next morning, the Westbridge High courtyard was drenched in bright, humid sunlight. It was lunch hour, the peak time for social positioning. You sat at your usual concrete table beneath the shade of a massive oak tree, sipping an iced matcha latte. Your friends were gossiping about graduation dresses, but your eyes were tracking a specific group across the courtyard.
Jungkook was leaning against a brick wall, surrounded by Mingyu, Yugyeom, and a few varsity guys. He was laughing, his head tilted back, looking every bit the untouchable, arrogant king of the senior class.
Then, his dark eyes scanned the crowd and locked onto yours.
You didn’t blink. You slowly lifted your latte, taking a sip while giving him a cold, challenge-filled look. Jungkook’s laugh faded into a smirk. He murmured something to Mingyu, broke away from the group, and began walking across the grass toward you. Every head at your table went silent.
He stopped right beside your seat, towering over you, casting a long shadow. He was wearing a fitted white tee that showed off the sharp lines of his shoulders, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets.
"You left your lip gloss in my passenger seat last night," he said, his voice loud enough for the neighboring tables to hear. A collective, quiet gasp rippled through the girls around you. He pulled the small, sleek tube from his pocket and twirled it between his fingers. "Come get it."
Yeah?. A public power move, you thought, your blood instantly humming with competitive fire. He wanted everyone to know you were in his car last night. He wanted to score points for the bet.
You slowly stood up, smoothing down your short plaid skirt. You didn't look flustered at all. Instead, you took a step closer to him, closing the distance until you were dangerously deep in his personal space. The scent of his smoky cologne hit your senses, thick and intoxicating.
"You could have just thrown it away, Jeon," you murmured, your voice a smooth, careless purr as you reached out. Instead of grabbing the lip gloss, your fingers brushed deliberately over the warm skin of his knuckles, sliding the tube out of his grip. "But I guess you just needed an excuse to talk to me today. Pathetic."
Jungkook’s eyes darkened instantly, his jaw clenching at your public insult. "Watch your mouth," he muttered, leaning down so his lips were inches from yours, his tone dropping into a rough, private whisper. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy yourself last night."
"I’ve had more exciting dental appointments," you shot back, giving him a sweet, vicious smile. You tapped the lip gloss against his chest—right over his heart—before turning on your heel and walking away toward the empty library building, knowing exactly what his bruised ego would force him to do.
You walked deep into the back stacks of the school library, past the rows of old reference books where nobody ever came during lunch. It was dimly lit, silent, and smelling of old paper and dust.
A second later, the heavy wooden door of the aisle clicked shut.
You turned around just as Jungkook stepped into the tight space between the bookshelves. His face was a mask of pure, frustrated irritation. He looked dominant, dangerous, and completely done with your games.
"What the hell is your problem?" he growled, stepping forward until he crowded you back against the cold metal bookshelf. He slammed his hand against the shelf right next to your head, trapping you. "You play nice in the car, and then you try to humiliate me in front of the entire school?"
"I don't play nice anywhere, Jungkook," you hissed, your hands coming up to press firmly against his broad chest, keeping him from crushing you. The physical contact sent a sudden, heavy jolt of lightning straight down your spine. The tension between you two was no longer just a verbal match—it was a ticking time bomb. "You wanted to play with the ice queen. Don't complain when you get burned."
"You think you're so untouchable," he muttered, his eyes dropping to your lips, his breathing turning ragged and heavy. The anger in his eyes was rapidly melting into lust. He hated how much he wanted you. He hated that your attitude was driving him completely insane. "You think I can't break you?"
"I know you can't," you whispered back, teasing him, your heart hammering violently against your ribs as you felt the hard, hot planes of his chest beneath your palms.
Jungkook let out a low, feral growl. He didn't think. He just reacted.
His hand moved from the bookshelf to the back of your neck, his fingers tangled firmly into your hair as he violently pulled your face up and crashed his lips against yours.
The kiss wasn't sweet. It was a collision of teeth, friction, and pure malice. It was rude, dominant, and desperately hot. You let out a breathless gasp against his mouth, and Jungkook took the opportunity to force his tongue inside, tasting you deeply, claiming your mouth with a possessive, aggressive hunger that made your knees instantly go weak.
You didn't push him away. Your bad-bitch exterior crumbled into pure, ravenous desire. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until there was absolutely no space left between your bodies. You bit his lower lip hard enough to make him let out a dark, muffled groan into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening until it was almost bruising.
He lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back hard against the metal bookshelf. Books rattled behind you, but neither of you cared. Your legs naturally wrapped around his waist, pulling his heat right against your core. The friction through your clothes was unbearable, a sharp, electric ache building rapidly between your thighs.
"You're a brat," Jungkook panted against your lips, his mouth leaving yours to trail a path of burning, wet kisses down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck. He bit down gently on the soft skin right above your collarbone, making you arch your back with a quiet, breathless moan that echoed in the silent library.
His large, calloused hand slid underneath your short plaid skirt, his warm palm tracing up the bare skin of your thigh. You shivered, your fingers clutching tightly into the fabric of his white shirt as his hand moved higher, his fingers slipping underneath the lace edge of your panties.
When his fingers made contact with your wet, swollen center, you let out a sharp, choked gasp against his ear. You were completely soaked for him, your body betraying every single cold word you had ever spoken to his face.
"Look at you," Jungkook whispered, his voice a deep, rough growl of pure satisfaction as he slid one long finger inside you, testing how tight and wet you were. He began to stroke you, a slow, torturous rhythm that had your head rolling back against the bookshelf. "So mean to everyone out there, but you're dripping wet for me in the dark. Say my name."
"Shut up," you gasped, your hips helplessly rolling against his hand, begging for more pressure. "Just... shut up and move."
Jungkook let out a dark chuckle, his ego completely fed by your desperation. He added a second finger, shifting his thumb to rub heavily against your sensitive nub. The sudden, intense friction sent a blinding wave of pleasure straight through your core. You clamped your teeth onto his shoulder to muffle your scream as your body violently spasmed, your walls tightening aggressively around his fingers as you rode a fierce, shattering climax.
He held you tightly, absorbing the tremors of your body, his own breathing heavy and uneven as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.
A few minutes later, the bells for the next class rang through the hallways, shattering the heavy, silent atmosphere of the library.
The reality of what just happened crashed back into the room.
Jungkook slowly let your legs slide down to the floor. His white shirt was wrinkled, his dark hairs messy, and his lips were swollen and red from your teeth. He looked down at you, his eyes still dark with lingering lust, but that familiar, arrogant smirk was already trying to crawl back onto his face. He thought he had won. He thought he had broken the ice queen.
You smoothed down your skirt, your heart still racing, but your expression instantly hardened into a mask of pure, icy indifference. You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, looking at him like he was nothing more than an annoying inconvenience.
"Not bad, Jeon," you said, your voice remarkably steady, cold, and entirely unbothered. You adjusted your collar, looking him up and down with a bored gaze. "Next time, try to be a little quicker. I have a class to get to."
Jungkook’s smirk completely vanished. His eyes widened in absolute disbelief. He had just given you a shattering orgasm against a bookshelf, and you were treating it like a mediocre homework assignment.
"Are you kidding me right now?" he muttered, his voice laced with pure irritation as you picked up your backpack from the floor. "That's all you have to say?"
"What do you want, a trophy?" you shot back smoothly, walking past him toward the aisle exit. You stopped at the edge, looking back over your shoulder with a dangerous, beautiful smile. "See you around, assistant."
You walked out of the library, leaving him standing alone in the shadows, his knuckles white with anger and his body still aching with unfulfilled tension. He was supposed to be the predator, but as he watched you walk away completely unfazed, a terrifying thought hit his mind.
He wasn't winning this game at all. He was drowning in it.
…
The days leading up to graduation were a psychological warfare.
You didn’t soften. If anything, the library incident made you twice as vicious. Every time Jungkook tried to look at you with that smug, possessive *I’ve-seen-you-undone* glint in his eyes, you cut him down with a single, freezing glance. You made it clear that what happened in the dark stayed in the dark, and in the bright, judgmental lights of Westbridge High, he was still just an arrogant target.
And it was driving him absolutely insane.
"You're late with the senior committee notes, Jeon," you said coldly, slamming a heavy leather folder onto his desk during study hall. The room was mostly empty, just a few students scattered in the back rows.
Jungkook was slouched in his chair, a black snapback turned backward on his head, spinning a silver pen between his fingers. He didn't look at the folder. He just leaned back, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a heavy, intense irritation.
"I'll finish them when I feel like it," he muttered, his voice a rough, disrespectful drawl. "Stop breathing down my neck. Unless you miss the view from the library stacks."
You leaned forward, resting both palms on his desk, bringing your face inches from his. The air between you instantly turned to pure friction, thick with a toxic mix of hatred and unyielding attraction.
"Don't flatter yourself," you whispered, your voice a sharp, dangerous blade. "That was just a charity case. I wanted to see if the campus playboy actually had any talent. Turns out, you’re just loud."
Jungkook’s silver pen snapped down onto the desk with a loud crack. He stood up abruptly, his towering frame immediately crowding you, his chest almost brushing yours. The heat radiating off him was suffocating.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he hissed, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. "You act like you're better than everyone else, but you're just a mean, selfish brat who likes to play with fire."
"And you're a cocky, insecure little boy who thinks a leather jacket and a sports car make him a man," you shot back, your eyes flashing with pure malice. "I hate everything about you, Jungkook. Your voice, your face, your pathetic little ego."
"Good," he growled, his hand suddenly shooting out to grip your chin, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline, forcing you to look up at him. His touch was rough, possessive, and entirely devoid of gentleness. "Because I absolutely loathe you. I hate how you look at me. I hate how you talk to me."
"Then let go," you breathed, your heart hammering a frantic, violent rhythm against your ribs as his gaze dropped to your mouth.
"No," he whispered, his grip tightening just a fraction. "Not until you admit you're thinking about me every single night."
Before you could respond with another biting insult, he yanked you out of the classroom and straight into the narrow, dimly lit janitor's closet across the hall, slamming the door shut and locking it with a sharp click.
The darkness of the closet was absolute, smelling of citrus cleaner and industrial bleach, but the only thing you could focus on was the heavy, ragged sound of Jungkook’s breathing.
He didn't waste time talking. He shoved you back against the concrete wall, his heavy body pinning you in place. His hands grabbed your wrists, pinning them high above your head against the cold wall.
"Let go of me, you savage," you hissed, kicking his shin with your designer boot.
"Make me," he growled back, entirely unbothered by the pain. He leaned his full weight into you, his hard, muscular thighs flattening your legs against the wall. The physical contrast was staggering—his sheer brute strength completely overpowering your fierce resistance.
He dropped his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your expensive perfume like a drug. He bit the sensitive skin right under your ear, hard enough to elicit a sharp, angry gasp from your throat.
"I hate how much I want to ruin you," Jungkook panted against your skin, his mouth moving aggressively down to your collarbone. "I want to tear that pretty, arrogant smile right off your face."
"Try it," you challenged, your voice breathless but still laced with pure defiance. "You don't have the nerve."
Jungkook let go of your wrists, but before you could strike him, his hands were tearing at the buttons of your silk blouse, popping two of them off completely. He shoved the fabric away, his large, rough hands mapping the bare skin of your waist, squeezing your flesh with a bruising, desperate hunger.
He unzipped your skirt in one violent motion, letting it drop to your ankles. You reached for him, your fingers clawing at the fabric of his black t-shirt, tearing it upward until your bare breasts pressed against his warm, tensed chest. The sensation was electric, a blinding rush of pure, raw need that erased every ounce of logic from your brain. You hated him, you despised his very existence, but your body was screaming for him to take you.
Jungkook groaned, a dark, primal sound, as his hand slid down between your thighs, ripping your lace panties to the side. He didn't bother with foreplay this time. He didn't care about being gentle. He grabbed your hips, lifting you slightly off the ground.
With one heavy, aggressive thrust, he drove himself completely inside you.
You let out a loud, choked scream, your fingers digging so deep into his shoulder blades that your nails nearly broke the skin. He was so thick, so impossibly hot, stretching you to your absolute limit.
"Fuck," Jungkook swore loudly, his head rolling back as your tight, wet walls clamped around him like a vice. He didn't wait for you to adjust. He began to move inside you with a brutal, relentless rhythm, his hips pounding against yours with a primitive, angry force.
Every thrust rattled your bones against your wall. It was a battle of dominance, a physical manifestation of the war raging in your heads. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, arching your back, meeting every hard, deep stroke with an aggressive tilt of your own hips.
"You're mine," Jungkook muttered darkly, his lips finding yours again, smothering your breathless moans with a deep, invasive kiss. His tongue copied the brutal rhythm of his hips, dominating your mouth while he stretched you inside out. "Say it. Say you're mine."
"Never," you gasped against his lips, tears of pure, overwhelming pleasure pricking the corners of your eyes as the friction hit a fever pitch. "You... you don't own me, Jeon!"
"We'll see about that," he growled, his pace turning fast, frantic, and incredibly deep. He hit a specific, sensitive spot inside you, and your vision went completely white.
A violent, shattering climax ripped through your entire body, your internal muscles spasming aggressively around him. The sheer intensity of your release pushed Jungkook over the edge. With two last, deep, desperate thrusts, he buried himself as far inside you as possible, letting out a roar as he spent himself deep inside your warmth.
For a long time, the only sound in the closet was the heavy, synchronized thudding of your hearts and the ragged gasps of your breathing. Jungkook stayed buried inside you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his large hands still gripping your waist like he was terrified you'd disappear if he let go.
There was a strange, heavy silence between you now. It wasn't just physical satisfaction; it was the terrifying realization that this wasn't just a game anymore. The hatred was still there, but it had morphed into something deeper, something permanent. You didn't just want to destroy him; you wanted to keep him. And he didn't just want to win a bet; he was completely obsessed with you.
Slowly, Jungkook pulled out of you, the sudden loss of his heat making you shiver.
He stepped back, adjusting his clothes in the dim light. He looked at you, his eyes completely dark, lacking his usual arrogant spark. For a second, he looked almost exposed.
You picked up your skirt, pulling it up and stepping into your boots. Your blouse was missing buttons, but you tied the ends together in a tight, effortless knot, hiding the marks he had left on your chest. You smoothed your hair back, your bad-bitch mask locking right back into place with practiced ease.
"We're even now," you said coldly, your voice cutting through the quiet room like a knife.
Jungkook paused, his hand on the doorknob. He turned his head, his brow furrowing in irritation. "Even? You think this is a scoreboard?"
"Everything with you is a scoreboard, Jungkook," you said smoothly, stepping past him to look out the small crack of the door to ensure the hallway was clear. "Tomorrow is graduation night. Enjoy your final day of thinking you're the king of Westbridge High."
Before he could ask what you meant, you slipped out of the closet and disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone in the dark.
Jungkook leaned his head against the door, a frustrated, self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips. His hands were still shaking. He was supposed to make her fall in three weeks to win a motorcycle. But as he looked at the empty space where you had just been, the brutal truth finally hit him.
He didn't give a damn about the motorcycle. He was completely, utterly ruined for anyone else.
…
The Westbridge High graduation gala was a massive, glittering sea of black ties, expensive silk dresses, and fake smiles. It was held in the grand ballroom of the city’s finest luxury hotel. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a bright, blinding light over the hundreds of seniors celebrating the end of an era. Everyone was laughing, taking photos, and drinking champagne, pretending they were all best friends.
But for you, the real event hadn't even begun. This night wasn't about celebrating a graduation. It was about executing a perfect, ruthless plan.
You stood near the massive chocolate fountain, slowly smoothing down the front of your dress. You had chosen an emerald green silk gown that fit your body like a second skin. It had a dangerously high slit up the left leg, showing off your sharp designer heels every time you took a step. Your hair fell down your back in perfect, glossy waves, and your lips were painted a sharp, bloody red. You looked absolutely stunning, like an untouchable queen—and a lethal weapon.
"You look like you're about to murder someone," your friend whispered, nudging your shoulder as she looked at your intense expression.
"Just taking out the trash," you replied smoothly. Your voice was calm, sweet, and entirely empty of warmth.
Your eyes scanned the crowded ballroom, moving past the dancing couples and the crying groups of friends, until they finally landed on the VIP lounge area in the back corner.
Jungkook was there. He was looking effortlessly handsome in a tailored black suit that made his broad shoulders look even wider. His white collared shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top, giving him that careless, arrogant bad-boy look he loved so much. His dark hair was styled perfectly, falling slightly into his eyes. Mingyu and Yugyeom were crowding around him, laughing loudly, drinking from crystal glasses, and slapping his back. They kept checking the silver watches on their wrists.
The three-week deadline was up tonight. The game was reaching its final seconds.
You watched from across the room as Yugyeom reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a sleek, heavy silver set of keys. It was the key to the vintage motorcycle Jungkook had been drooling over for months. Yugyeom handed them over with a smirk, shaking Jungkook’s hand.
Jungkook took the keys, his fingers wrapping around the silver metal. But he didn't look happy. He didn't look like a guy who had just won a massive bet. Instead, his face looked exhausted, his jaw tightly clenched as his dark eyes restlessly scanned the massive ballroom. He was looking for someone. He was looking for you.
When his eyes finally locked onto your emerald dress, he stopped breathing for a fraction of a second. The arrogant smirk on his face completely died.
You didn't look away. You held his intense gaze across the crowded room, slowly lifting your glass of champagne in a mocking, silent toast. A dangerous, beautiful smile spread across your red lips. Then, you turned on your heel, the silk of your dress whispering against your skin, and walked toward the large glass doors leading out to the grand outdoor terrace. You knew exactly what he would do. He was too proud, too angry, and too obsessed to stay inside. He would follow you like a dog on a leash.
The outdoor terrace was completely empty, cooled by the midnight breeze coming off the city streets below. The loud, pounding bass of the ballroom music became a distant hum behind the thick glass doors. The air out here was fresh, smelling of wet concrete and night air. You walked over to the edge, leaning your hands against the cold marble balustrade, looking out at the million blinking lights of the city skyline.
A few seconds later, the heavy glass doors slid open with a soft hiss, and then closed again.
Heavy, confident footsteps echoed on the stone floor behind you. You didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. The sharp scent of his expensive, smoky cologne cut through the midnight air, wrapping around your senses. Jungkook stopped just a foot away from you, his presence immediately making the wide-open terrace feel suffocatingly small. His breathing was heavy, a chaotic mix of frustration, anger, and a deep, lingering desire radiating off his body.
"You've been avoiding me all night," Jungkook said. His voice was a low, rough growl that vibrated through the quiet air. He stepped closer, crowding your space, his large shadow completely falling over you. "Are you finally ready to admit defeat? The game is over tonight, sweetheart. Graduation is happening, and you're still standing next to me."
You let out a soft, melodic laugh. It was a cold, cruel sound that cut right through his confidence. You slowly turned around, resting your lower back against the marble railing, crossing your arms over your chest. You looked up at his handsome face, entirely unbothered, your expression full of brutal amusement.
"You're right, Jungkook. The game is over tonight," you said smoothly, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Did you enjoy your little victory lap with the boys inside? Did Yugyeom give you the shiny new keys to your motorcycle?"
Jungkook completely froze. The smug, arrogant look on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a rare flash of genuine, pale shock. His eyes widened, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. "What did you just say?"
"Oh, come on, Jeon. Did you really think you were that smart?" You took a slow step forward, closing the distance between you until the emerald silk of your gown was almost brushing against the dark fabric of his expensive suit. You looked up into his dark eyes through your eyelashes, your smile dripping with sweet, lethal poison. "I heard every single word of your pathetic little conversation on the beach house balcony three weeks ago. I knew about the motorcycle. I knew about the three-week deadline. I knew exactly what the ice queen was supposed to do."
Jungkook’s breath hitched loudly in his throat. For the first time since you had known him, he looked completely defenseless, his chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven movements. The terrifying realization was washing over him, painting his pale skin with panic. "You... you knew the whole time? From the very first day?"
"The entire time," you whispered, mocking him with your calm tone. "Every single word. Every cheesy compliment at the lockers, every stupid little date, every touch... I was playing along, Jungkook. You thought you were the predator at Westbridge High? You thought you were tracking a deer? You were my entertainment. I let you think you were winning because it was amusing to watch you try so hard. I let you touch me because I wanted to see how desperate and pathetic you would get. And look at you now."
You let your eyes travel down his suit, then back up to his face with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"You didn't win me, Jungkook. You didn't break the ice queen," you said, each word hitting him like a physical blow. "You ruined your own sanity for a piece of metal. I let you into my space because I wanted to destroy you. I loathe you, Jungkook. I always have, and I always will. You mean absolutely nothing to me."
Jungkook’s face contorted into an expression of pure, burning fury, mixed with something agonizingly raw, something that looked almost like heartbreak. His eyes turned incredibly dark, wild with a toxic mix of hatred and obsession. He couldn't handle it. His massive ego had just been shattered into a million pieces by the only girl he had ever actually cared about conquering.
With a low, angry sound, his hands shot out, his fingers locking tightly around your upper arms. He yanked you forward with a violent pull, crashing your body hard against his chest. The physical impact made you gasp, your hands automatically pressing against his lapels to keep yourself from suffocating under his weight.
"So it was all a lie?" Jungkook hissed, his face dropping down until his lips were inches from yours, his hot breath fanning across your skin. His grip on your arms was so tight it was going to leave bruises, but he didn't care. He was completely out of his mind with rage. "Everything we did? In the library stacks? In the janitor's closet? You're telling me you felt absolutely nothing when I was inside you?"
"I felt physical attraction, obviously. You're not bad to look at, Jeon," you shot back instantly, your voice remaining steady and cold, refusing to let him see the frantic, terrified pounding of your heart against your ribs. "But love? Affection? Connection? Don't be pathetic. It was just a game. And I won."
Jungkook let out a dark, broken laugh that sounded more like a sob of pure anger. He looked at you like he wanted to tear you apart, but at the same time, he looked like he wanted to swallow you whole. The physical tension between your bodies was heavy, thick, and completely suffocating, vibrating with an dangerous mix of revenge and a dark obsession that neither of you could kill.
"You think you won?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a terrifying, deep register that sent a shiver straight down your spine. He leaned down, his eyes burning into your soul with a promise of absolute destruction. "You think you can just walk away from this, put your little mask back on, and pretend I didn't ruin you for anyone else? You hate me? Good. Keep hating me, you beautiful, selfish brat. Because I'm going to make sure I'm the only thing you think about, the only name you scream, for the rest of your pathetic life."
Before you could open your mouth to scream another biting insult, he slammed his lips against yours.
The kiss was brutal, toxic, and utterly filled with a desperate need for revenge. There was absolutely no gentleness in it. He tasted like expensive liquor, mint, and pure desperation. He used his tongue to aggressively force his way inside your mouth, dominating you, punishing you for every single cold word you had just spoken to his face.
Your hands gripped the fabric of his suit jacket tightly, your fingers curling into the material as you tried to fight his weight, but your body was betraying you once again. The raw, violent chemistry between you two was too strong, too addictive.
You bit his lower lip hard, tasting the metallic tang of iron as blood broke on his skin, but Jungkook only groaned darkly into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening until he lifted your feet slightly off the stone floor, driving himself deeper into the kiss. It was a silent, desperate declaration that he would never let you go, even if it destroyed you both.
With a harsh, breathless gasp, you finally found the strength to forcefully shove his chest, tearing your lips away from his. You were both panting heavily, your chest heaving, your perfect red lipstick smeared across your mouth and his jaw. You looked at him with absolute, unyielding coldness, your eyes like two chips of ice in the moonlight.
"We are done, Jungkook," you said, your voice remarkably steady as you reached down to smooth the silk of your green gown, hiding the shaking of your hands. "Enjoy your motorcycle. You paid a very high price for it."
You turned around, not giving him another second of your time, and walked back toward the glass doors. You didn't look back as you slid the door open and stepped back into the warm, brightly lit ballroom, leaving Jeon Jungkook standing alone in the darkness of the terrace, his hands trembling and his chest heaving with a fury he couldn't escape.
An hour later, the graduation gala was finally winding down. The music had stopped, and the entire senior class was gathering in the massive, marble-floored lobby of the hotel, waiting for the final graduation announcements and saying their final goodbyes.
Suddenly, a loud, synchronized chorus of pings echoed through the entire lobby.
Almost every single student reached into their pockets, pulling out their phones as a mass text notification flashed on their screens. A mass message had just been sent to the entire Westbridge High student database from an untraceable, anonymous number.
You slowly pulled your phone from your small designer clutch, a vicious, deeply satisfied smile spreading across your lips as you looked down at the screen.
It was an audio file. Specifically, it was the crystal-clear, undeniable recording of Jungkook, Mingyu, and Yugyeom from three weeks ago at the beach house party.
The loud, arrogant voice of Jungkook echoed through hundreds of pairs of headphones and speakers across the lobby: "A month is too long. Give me three weeks. By graduation night, she’ll be begging me to be her boyfriend. The ice queen is going to melt, boys. Watch me."
The entire lobby went dead, terrifyingly silent. The laughter stopped. The crying stopped. Hundreds of heads slowly, deliberately turned to look at the entrance of the lobby, where Jungkook was standing with his hands in his pockets.
The whispers started instantly—sharp, judgmental, and mocking. In a matter of mere seconds, Jungkook’s carefully built, untouchable reputation as the flawless, dominant king of the school was utterly shattered. He wasn't the cool, mysterious bad boy anymore. He was exposed to the entire world as a tacky, desperate loser who used girls as playground bets to win a motorcycle.
Mingyu and Yugyeom looked panicked, their faces turning completely red as people started staring at them with disgust. But Jungkook didn't even reach for his phone. He didn't have to. He already knew exactly what it was.
He slowly turned his head, his dark, intense eyes moving across the crowded lobby, cutting through the sea of whispering students until they found yours. He knew exactly who did it. He knew this was your final, devastating stroke of revenge. You had let him believe he was winning, let him take his prize, and then you had publicly executed his social standing in front of everyone he knew.
You didn't hide. You stood directly under the massive, bright crystal chandelier in the center of the lobby, your green silk dress glowing under the light. You looked right back at him, your chin held high, a cold, triumphant smile plastered on your face. You had won. You had destroyed him.
But as Jungkook continued to stare at you across the silent room, his expression didn't change to shame. He didn't look defeated. He didn't look embarrassed.
Instead, a slow, incredibly dangerous, and terrifying smirk began to creep onto his bloody lips. His dark eyes flared with a new kind of hunger, a dark, promises-filled fire that made your blood run cold. He wasn't broken by your revenge. He was challenged. Your public betrayal hadn't pushed him away; it had only fueled the toxic fire inside him, turning his competitive bet into a permanent, deeply dangerous obsession.
This wasn't an ending. This was a brutal declaration of war.
You both knew that high school was officially over tonight. You both knew that college started in exactly two months. And most importantly, you both knew that you had both been accepted into the exact same elite university city campus. As you stared at each other across the ruined remnants of your high school social ladder, a chilling, addictive thrill rushed through your veins.
The high school game was finally finished, but the real, toxic war was about to begin. And neither of you had any intention of losing.
The heavy mahogany doors of the luxury hotel ballroom slammed shut behind you, cutting off the suffocating noise of the crowd. You stepped into the dim, deserted corridor that led to the private executive suites. The adrenaline that had carried you through the public exposure in the lobby was beginning to morph into something heavier, a thick, throbbing ache between your thighs and a wild, racing pulse that refused to slow down.
Before you could take another step, a hand clamped onto your wrist like a steel shackle.
You were violently yanked backward, your back hitting the plush wallpapered wall of the corridor with a soft thud. A massive, looming body immediately crowded you, cutting off all light and escape. The familiar, intoxicating scent of tobacco, dark whiskey, and expensive cedarwood flooded your senses.
Jungkook.
His jacket was gone, his white button-down shirt wrinkled and torn open at the collar, showing the frantic, heavy rise and fall of his chest. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. The muscle in his jaw was twitching violently, his teeth grinding together so hard you could hear it in the silence of the hallway. But beneath the rage, his eyes were wide, dark, and completely consumed by a terrifying, dangerous addiction.
He didn't look at you like he hated you. He looked at you like you were his oxygen, and you had just cut off the supply.
"You absolute bitch," he breathed, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a violent shiver down your spine. He leaned his face down, his nose almost brushing against yours, his hot, ragged breath hitting your lips. "You leaked it. You had the tape the entire time and you played me like a fucking fool."
You didn't flinch. You tilted your chin up, your emerald green dress shifting against his legs, your eyes wide and burning with your own defensive malice. "I told you, Jeon. You're a child playing a man's game. Did you think I was going to let you walk away with your pathetic little pride intact? I ruined you. Look at you. You’re nothing but a joke to the entire school now."
"You think I care about them?" Jungkook roared, his voice cracking with a sudden, raw vulnerability that shocked you. He slammed both palms against the wall on either side of your head, the sound echoing loudly in the narrow hallway. He was shaking. The untouchable, arrogant Jeon Jungkook was physically trembling with rage and desperation right in front of you. "You think I give a single fuck about a motorcycle or those idiots in the lobby? I was a fool because I thought I was the one pulling the strings. I was a fool because I actually believed you were letting your guard down for me."
He took a deep, ragged breath, his eyes dropping to your lips, dark and wild with an intense, agonizing craving.
"I’m addicted to you," he whispered, the admission sounding like a curse, torn directly from his throat. "I hate you so much it makes my blood burn, but I can't look at anyone else. I can't touch anyone else. You did this to me. You planned this whole thing to break my ego, and all it did was make me want to tear you to pieces."
A cruel, mocking smile spread across your red lips, though your heart was hammering so hard against your ribs it felt painful. "Then tear me to pieces, Jungkook. But you’ll still be the loser of this game."
Jungkook let out a feral, frustrated sound, completely pushed past his limit. He grabbed the front of your silk dress, his fingers bunching the green material tightly as he violently pulled you up against his body. He didn't ask. He didn't tease. He just conquered.
His mouth crashed down onto yours with a primitive, angry force that knocked the air straight out of your lungs.
The kiss was a war zone. It was rude, mean, and hundred times more vicious than anything you had shared in the dark corners of the school. He bit your lip hard, drawing blood instantly, his tongue forcing its way past your teeth to claim your mouth with a possessive, toxic hunger. You groaned against his mouth, the metallic taste of blood making your head spin, your hands shooting up to grip his hair, pulling him closer even as you tried to fight him off. You hated him. You truly, deeply despised his arrogance, but your body was completely screaming for his touch, melting against his hard chest with a desperate, heavy heat.
Jungkook didn't stop. He was completely out of his mind, driven by a chaotic mix of revenge, anger, and pure lust. He slid his large hand down the high slit of your dress, his rough palm scraping against the bare skin of your thigh. He gripped your hip tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave marks, and lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist.
He pinned you against the wall with his hips, the hard, rigid length of him pressing directly against your soaked center through the layers of fabric. You let out a sharp, breathless gasp against his lips, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he began to grind his hips against yours in a heavy, torturous rhythm.
"You think you won because you exposed me?" Jungkook panted, tearing his mouth away from yours to bite down on the sensitive skin of your neck, his voice a dark, rough growl against your skin. "Look at you. You're begging for me. You're dripping wet for the guy you claim to loathe. We're both going to hell, sweetheart, and I'm dragging you down with me."
"Shut up," you hissed, your head rolling back against the wall as his mouth moved lower, his teeth grazing your collarbone. "Just... shut up and finish it."
"No," he whispered dangerously, his fingers sliding underneath the lace of your panties, finding your swollen, slick nub and rubbing it with a cruel, agonizingly slow pressure that made your vision instantly blur. You arched your back, a loud, helpless moan escaping your lips. Jungkook looked up at you, his dark eyes wide and filled with a sick, triumphant satisfaction. "I'm not going to make it easy for you. You want to hate me? Then hate me while I do this to you."
He added another finger, pushing deep inside your tight, wet heat, driving a frantic, breathless pace that had your body violently trembling in his arms. The physical tension between you was so high, so incredibly thick with malice and pure attraction, that every single touch felt like an explosion. You locked your arms around his neck, pulling his head back down to yours, drowning his arrogant smirk in another desperate, bruising kiss as your hips helplessly rolled against his hand, chasing the friction.
With one final, heavy press of his thumb against your center, your body completely fractured. A violent, shattering climax ripped through you, your internal walls clamping aggressively around his fingers as you let out a muffled scream into his shoulder.
Jungkook held you tightly against the wall, absorbing the frantic tremors of your body, his own breathing heavy, ragged, and completely broken. He didn't let you slide down. He kept you pinned there, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes looking down into your dazed, exhausted face.
The silence that followed was suffocating. There was no softness. There was no sweet afterglow. The air was still thick with an overwhelming sense of rivalry and revenge. You had exposed his secret, and he had exposed your desperation.
You slowly let your leg drop back to the floor, your hands releasing his shirt. You smoothed down your ruined dress, your expression instantly hardening back into that cold, untouchable mask of pure, unbothered malice. You wiped the blood from your lip with the back of your hand, looking at him like he was nothing more than dirt under your designer heels.
"Are you done throwing your tantrum, Jeon?" you said smoothly, your voice remarkably steady, cutting through the quiet hallway like ice. "Because I have a ride waiting."
Jungkook’s eyes darkened to a terrifying shade of black. The anger rushed right back into his face, his jaw clenching so hard a vein popped on his temple. He looked at you, his chest heaving, completely infuriated that even after this, you could still look at him with so much disrespect. He was a fool, he was an addict, and he was completely, utterly ruined by you.
"This changes nothing," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous threat as he stepped back, his hands curling into tight fists. "You think you can just walk away and leave me like this? You think you can go to college in two months and pretend I don't exist?"
"I don't think, Jungkook. I know," you replied coldly, adjusting the strap of your dress as you turned away from him. "Enjoy your broken reputation. You earned every bit of it."
You began walking down the long corridor, the sharp click of your heels echoing against the walls, your head held high. You didn't look back. You didn't dare to.
Behind you, Jungkook stood in the middle of the empty hallway, his breathing still ragged, his body still aching with an unfulfilled, toxic desire. He stared at your retreating figure, a slow, deeply twisted, and dangerous smile spreading across his bloody lips. His eyes were wide with a manic, terrifying promise. He hated you with every single fiber of his being, but the thought of ever letting someone else have you made him want to burn the world down.
He didn't want to fix his reputation. He didn't want to win the bet anymore. He just wanted to conquer you, to break your cold pride until you were just as addicted and ruined as he was.
As you reached the exit doors, a sudden, heavy wave of competitive adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your skin tingle. You both knew what was coming in two months. You both knew you were heading to the same city, the same campus, the same elite circle.
This wasn't a fresh start, and it certainly wasn't a peaceful truce. It was a toxic, permanent tether. You were going to spend the next four years trying to destroy each other's lives, driven by a mutual, burning hatred that felt more intense, more consuming, and more violently addictive than any love story could ever be.
The war wasn't over. It had just gotten a thousand times meaner.
You just got dumped. The one behind it? your boyfriend’s best friend Jungkook who’s hated you from day one. You hate him. He hates you. One thing’s for sure: when hate turns into desire, it gets messy, it gets reckless… and yes, hate sex is still sex.
⎯⎯ pairing: Grumpy Jungkook x Mean girl reader
🧷Genre: enemies with benefits
🧷Warnings: 18+ content, heavy angst, yearning, miscommunication, commitment issues, foul language, slut shaming, heavy, uncomfortable themes, uni au, use of y/n, (mdni)!!
🧷wc: 14.8k
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Jimin stared at you for a long moment, his usual teasing smile nowhere to be found.
He leaned back in his chair, the café around you fading into background noise as he processed everything you’d just unloaded on him. Eventually, he let out a low breath and ran a hand through his perfect blonde pompadour.
“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he finally said, shaking his head. “You’ve been living in a fucking soap opera.”
You winced, your knuckles turning white around your ceramic mug. “I know how it sounds out loud. Okay? It’s insane.”
Jimin leaned back, his chair scraping against the tiles. He just stared at you for a long, torturous second.
“No, it’s beautiful prose, really,” he said, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. “Not unhinged at all that you’ve been sleeping with your boyfriend’s best friend for a consecutive calendar year. Not unhinged that it continued after the breakup. And certainly not unhinged that you’ve been running a masterclass in espionage just to introduce him to me as your ‘supposed’ boyfriend.”
He let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “But my favorite part? The piece de résistance? You two supposedly despise each other. Correct?”
“Can you keep your voice down?” you hissed, shooting a panicked glance at the adjacent tables.
Jimin raised an eyebrow, but the sharp edge of his posture softened slightly as he caught the tremor in your hands, the glassy threat of tears in your eyes. Still, he didn’t let you off the hook. “No. You don’t get to hide behind a low volume. Sit with it. You built this circus, own the monkeys.”
He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his perfectly styled blonde hair. “Jesus. I need something significantly stronger than espresso for this,” he muttered, glaring at his cup. You could practically hear the gears in his brain grinding as he tried to untangle the web you’d just dumped in his lap.
When he looked back up, the playfulness was gone, replaced by a sharp, protective look. “And of all the timelines… you choose now to drop this on me?”
“You’re pregnant,” Jimin deadpanned, his eyes going wide as saucepans.
“No! God, no, thank God,” you rushed out, the words tumbling over each other. “I panicked, but my period started. We’re clear.”
Jimin visibly deflated, slumping back against the leather booth with a massive exhale. “Okay. Okay, crisis averted. You’re bleeding. When was the last time you actually saw Jungkook?”
The question caught you entirely off guard, flying straight past your internal filter. “Like… a few days ago?”
Jimin blinked. Then, a slow, insufferable smirk began to crawl across his face as the math clicked in his head. He didn’t even have to say it, the implication that you and Jungkook were intimate anyway hung heavily in the air.
Before he could open his mouth to terrorize you, you slammed your hand on the table. “Do not. Do not make fun of me. I am fighting for my life here, Jimin. Just let me finish.”
Jimin raised his hands in a mocking surrender, though the smirk remained firmly in place. “The floor is yours, counselor. Proceed.”
You took a ragged breath, trying to organize the chaos in your head.
“It’s not just me playing the villain behind Minho’s back. It’s… it’s a disaster of our own making. I met Jungkook before Minho. There was a spark. A massive one. But I panicked, I didn’t want to give Jungkook that kind of leverage over me, knowing he was the only one who could—”
“—The only one who actually knows how to get you off? Got it,” Jimin interrupted smoothly.
You glared at him with the force of a thousand suns. “If you interrupt me one more time, I’m pouring this macchiato on your lap.”
“Alright, alright, cupcake. Weapon dropped,” he said, though his eyes were still dancing with amusement.
“My relationship with Minho was dead on arrival,” you continued, your voice dropping into a quieter, more exhausted register. “It was supposed to be a harmless fling. Two, maybe three months. Somehow it dragged into a year. By month five, we weren’t even kissing anymore. Whatever fire we were trying to kindle was completely out.”
Jimin nodded slowly, his amusement finally fading. “So we’re officially establishing that Minho is a footnote?”
You breathed out, thinking for a second. “I… I don’t really know. No, I don’t like him. I never had feelings for him. He’s just… not the nicest person at times. But... I’m not either, so I can’t be a hypocrite about it.”
You paused, then added quietly, “There was this one time he called me a bitch as a ‘joke’ in front of his friends. Now that I think about it, that’s all there ever was. Minho does things just to impress the people around him. He’s never really been his own person. He doesn’t have a backbone.”
You swallowed, the next part harder to say.
“And now I found out… he got drunk at an afterparty and rambled to a bunch of seniors. Told them I sleep around. Called me a whore.”
Jimin’s entire demeanor shifted. The residual smirk vanished instantly, his features hardening into something icy. “He said what? Are you serious?”
“I wish I wasn’t,” you said, shaking your head. “Really, Jimin, if I’m being honest… it makes me want to hide for the rest of the semester.”
You let out a bitter scoff. “With the way he said it and how people have been treating me lately, even some of my own sorority sisters, you’d think a sex tape of me banging the entire campus came out.”
Jimin looked genuinely pissed, more angry than you’d felt when you first heard it. You gave a weak shrug. Jimin leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Does Jungkook know about this?”
“I’m getting there,” you said. “Lina told me about the rumors—”
“Don’t like her. Sneaky,” Jimin cut in automatically.
You let out a weak, breathless laugh. “Well, she’s basically my only on-campus friend right now, so I’m grading on a curve.”
“Your taste in people is atrocious,” he said flatly, but his eyes softened when he saw the strain on your face. “Sorry. Keep going. What did Jungkook do?”
You took a breath.
“I didn’t even have to tell Jungkook. Turns out he already knew about the rumors.” You laughed bitterly. “He knew. I don’t know for how long, but he was suddenly so distant with me. Nothing like how he was when we were together in my penthouse. He cornered me, demanded I decide right then and there what my real intentions with him were… and I got overwhelmed. I told him I needed time to think. That I didn’t know who I could trust anymore, and I walked away.”
Jimin sat in silence, absorbing the weight of it. The charm, it all melted away, leaving only the fierce, protective friend underneath.
“Let’s look at the chessboard from his perspective,” Jimin said slowly, picking his words carefully. “You’ve been hooking up in secret for months. You let him into your penthouse, a place you don’t let anyone into. You’re comfortable enough to be deeply intimate with him, but the exact second he asks you to put a name on it? To claim him? You pull the emergency brake and demand space.”
He shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping him.
“If I’m him? I feel like a well kept secret. I feel used. Like I’m a great dopamine hit when you’re lonely, but the moment things get heavy, you shut the door in my face.”
You kept your eyes glued to the table, unable to look at him.
“But here’s the part that worries me,” Jimin continued, his voice dropping an octave. “Jungkook isn’t a victim here either. If he’s capable of turning that ice cold, that fast, after everything you’ve shared? That’s a massive red flag. Minho was a generic, predictable asshole. But a guy who can switch from burning hot to absolute zero just to punish you? That kind of whiplash will destroy you.”
He reached across the small table, his fingers gently but firmly wrapping around yours, forcing you to stop tracing the rim of your cup.
“You deserve better than being someone’s emotional convenience. Whether that’s Minho spreading rumors… or Jungkook making you question everything every time he pulls away.”
You felt your throat tighten. Jimin’s eyes were steady on yours.
“So let’s strip away the noise. Do you actually want something real with him? Or are you just terrified of being alone in the wreckage?”
You shifted uncomfortably, pulling your hand back to wipe your cheek. “I don’t think he was trying to punish me. He was just… raw. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have cornered me. He would have just walked away entirely, right?”
Jimin tilted his head, considering.
“That’s another possibility, yeah. He was probably confused. You’re not letting him in as much as he thought you were.” He paused, then gave you a pointed look. “You’re deviating, by the way.”
You only looked at him. Jimin didn’t let up, his stare pinning you to the back of your chair. “You haven’t answered my question. Do you actually want something real with Jungkook?”
The double glass doors of the pavilion clicked shut behind you, cutting off the low hum of the café and the suffocating weight of Jimin’s stare. You hadn’t given him a straight answer. Honestly, you didn’t have one to give.
The café was nestled on the ground floor, a soaring glass complex that housed corporate offices, and luxury residential penthouses on the upper tiers. It was a playground for the city’s elite, which meant it was entirely too familiar.
The problem with a place like this was that you couldn’t move five feet without running into the ghosts of your dad’s reputation. The lifestyle editors, the venture capitalists flowing through the lobby, they all knew your face. More importantly, they knew your father’s name, and they certainly knew your mother’s legacy.
Desperate to escape before someone recognized you and dragged you into a suffocatingly polite conversation...How is your father? Give him our best, darling, we must do dinner soon...you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders and hurried toward the revolving doors, eyes glued to the polished marble floor. You were practically sprinting through the crowd, an invisible clock ticking in your head.
You were so focused on escaping that you didn’t see the shadow crossing your path until it was too late.
Your shoulder collided heavily with someone else’s, the impact jarring enough to make you stumble backward, your purse slipping down your arm.
“Watch where you’re—” the voice started, sharp and irritated, before cutting off instantly.
You steadied yourself, looking up with an apology already on your tongue, only for the words to freeze in your throat. Of all the people in this city, of all the buildings, and of all the catastrophic timing.
...Ira?
She was holding a baby carrier in one hand and a diaper bag in the other, looking equally surprised.
“Well, shit,” she said, breaking into a grin. “Fate’s got jokes today.”
You let out a tired, breathless laugh. “Apparently. What are you doing here?”
“Babysitting gig for some stinking rich couple on the thirtieth floor. They’re out for the night and apparently couldn’t be bothered to deal with their own kid.” She rolled her eyes, shifting the heavy plastic baby carrier to her other hand. “You?”
“Long story,” you said, glancing back toward the café doors as if Jimin might materialize to finish his interrogation. “Mind if I tag along? I could seriously use the distraction.”
Ira’s grin widened, a spark of genuine relief in her eyes. “Please. I was already dreading pulling a twelve hour shift in a ghost town alone.”
The apartment upstairs was exactly what you expected, upper tier and all. Inside the entryway, Ira set the carrier down carefully on a marble bench. The little girl strapped inside, maybe eight months old, blinked up at you with big, glassy, curious eyes.
Ira unbuckled the straps and scooped the kid up, then turned to you with a mischievous glint. “Here. Hold her for a second.”
Before you could protest, you found your arms full of baby. You held her awkwardly, your elbows stiff as you tried to find the balance between crushing her and dropping her. The infant immediately grabbed a fistful of your sweater, her tiny knuckles burying into the fabric.
Ira watched you, leaning against the kitchen island with a smirk. “Still hate babies?”
The question instantly dragged you back to the leather chairs of the tattoo salon, the suffocating weight of the pregnancy scare and the ridiculous conversation that had somehow ended with the two of you bonding over a shared counter.
“Not at all,” you muttered, adjusting your grip so the kid’s head didn’t flop. “Just… highly unpracticed.”
“It’s weird, right? We keep bonding over the topic of infants for some reason,” Ira noted, tossing the diaper bag onto a nearby chair.
“Maybe it’s fate,” she suggested dryly, grinning.
“God, I hope not.”
At the sound of your voice, the baby in your arms widened her eyes. You looked down, and she let out an exasperated, high pitched little sound, the kind of breathless giggle babies make when they haven’t figured out how to express excitement yet.
“So… what brings you here?” Ira asked, setting the baby carrier down and fixing one of its crooked legs.
“I could ask you the same thing,” you said, bouncing the baby gently.
Ira snickered. “Told ya. Babysitting gig.”
You looked between her and the baby. “I didn’t peg you as the private-nanny-to-the-upper-one-percent sort.” you replied, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s because I’m not.” She crossed one leg over the other. “The thing is, I’ve been looking after aida since she was practically born. At this point, I’m more involved in raising her than her actual parents. They’re rich as hell, sure, and they pay my tuition without blinking, but… it’s still fucking sad.”
You glanced down at baby aida in your arms, watching her tiny fingers clutch at your shirt, her thumb tucked into her mouth.
“You know… I was a baby exactly like that once,” you said quietly.
Ira raised an eyebrow. “No shit? Your parents pulled the same stunt?”
“Yeah,” you replied, voice softer.
Ira waited for a second, her expression open, expecting the rest of the story. But you kept your lips pressed together, offering nothing else. You weren’t ready to unpack the baggage of your parents. Not now, and honestly, maybe not ever.
To her credit, Ira didn’t push. She didn’t make the silence awkward or clinical. Instead, she just reached over and gently slid her hands under aida’s arms, lifting the baby out of your stiff lap.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ira said, sincere but light. “But you turned out fine though.”
She lifted the baby up, blowing a loud raspberry into her little stomach. little aida squealed with delight, tiny legs kicking happily.
“So we still have hope for this little one, don’t we?” Ira laughed.
You couldn’t help but smile. When you scrunched your nose playfully at baby aida, she let out another high pitched squeal, reaching for your face. You cooed back at her softly, the sound surprising even you.
For a few minutes, the noise in your head completely stopped. In it’s place remained the rhythmic babbling of an eight month old.
Then you remembered the time. You glanced at your phone, clearing your throat. “I should probably get going in a few—”
“But you just walked in,” Ira cut in, her head tilting as she lowered Aida back onto her lap.
The playful warmth in her expression shifted, replaced by a sudden, razor sharp curiosity.
“And boy,” Ira smirked, her eyes locking onto yours with absolute relish, “do I have a mountain of questions for you.”
You stiffened, your posture going rigid against the couch.
Ira’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the way you’ve instantly frozen up. She leaned forward, lowering her voice just enough to make it lethal.
“So… how’s Jungkook?”
You rolled your eyes, your mood souring instantly at the mention of him. “How would I know?” you muttered, looking away.
Ira watched you carefully, her teasing expression softening just a little. “Ah. So trouble in paradise?”
“There was never a paradise,” you let out a dry, tired laugh. “Just… really good sex and a whole lot of confusion after.”
Ira grinned, unable to stop herself.
“Well, at least the sex was good,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “If you’re gonna get emotionally wrecked by a guy, you might as well get some mind blowing orgasms out of it, right? Silver linings.”
You groaned, covering your face with both hands, but a reluctant laugh slipped out anyway. “Ira.”
“What? I’m just saying. If Jungkook’s the one ruining your peace, at least he’s doing it with good dick. That’s more than most people get.”
You peeked at her through your fingers, cheeks burning. “For one, in order to be emotionally wrecked, I’d have to actually care,” you shot back, struggling to sound casual. “Which I don’t. So no, my peace isn’t ruined.”
Ira gave you a long, unimpressed look. “Right,” she said flatly.
You narrowed your eyes. “Why are you giving me that look?”
“How long are you going to keep lying to yourself, Y/n?”
You looked around the opulent living room in exaggerated shock, throwing your hands up as if searching the crown molding for the sheer audacity she had just dropped so casually into the conversation.
“We’re all girls here anyway,” Ira added, glancing down at baby aida. “Right, Aida?”
The little girl let out a happy gurgle, completely oblivious.
Ira turned back to you, shaking her head. “You know you can be honest with me.”
You sighed, shoulders slumping. She was right. Ira had been nothing but transparent and straightforward with you from the very beginning. Easily the most honest person you’d met in a long time. She didn’t deserve your constant walls and half-truths. So you decided, for once, to be honest.
“I’m not used to this,” you admitted quietly. “I don’t really have proper girl… friends.”
Ira looked at you, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she didn’t dote on it. She simply nodded, like she understood more than you’d said.
“If this makes you feel any better,” she said, pinching baby aida’s tiny nose, “I don’t really have any girl friends either.”
Your eyes widened, nearly popping out of your skull. “No way.”
Ira looked up at your exaggerated expression and burst into giggles. “What’s so surprising about that?”
“Oh, nothing,” you said quickly, still staring at her in disbelief. “Just… you’re easily the coolest person I’ve ever met. So yeah, that’s a little hard to believe.”
Ira’s ears visibly flushed pink. She looked genuinely shocked, almost shy for a second. “You think I’m cool?”
“Yeah,” you said, smiling softly. “And you’re funny. You’re so entirely yourself... everything I wish I could be.”
Ira blinked, clearly caught off guard. “There’s no way because…” She paused, then laughed lightly. “I think you’re the coolest person ever.”
You let out a surprised huff. “You don’t think I’m a spoiled brat? Because trust me, that’s usually the first impression.”
Ira laughed again, warmer this time. “And you’re funny. It’s so exhausting being friends with guys who have the worst sense of humor. Meeting you felt like a breath of actual fresh air.”
She hesitated, then added more shyly, “And mostly, I’m shocked because… you’re beautiful. Like, really beautiful. You’re the president of your sorority, which I think is really cool, and I’ve always loved those designer heels you wear, the louboutins with those red bottoms? They’re epic.”
You stared at her in shock, watching the blush deepen across her ears. Ira, with her razor sharp smoky eyeliner, effortlessly shaggy hair, and edgy tattoos thought you were beautiful Ira? The polished, heel wearing sorority president who felt like her opposite in every way.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say…” you murmured, smiling as you stared at the floor, warmth blooming in your chest.
Baby aida whined softly from her playpen, her big eyes darting between the two of you like she could sense the shift in the air.
“And also,” Ira added, a little more carefully, “you’ve got someone like Jungkook wrapped around your finger, so…”
“Someone like Jungkook?” you asked, genuinely curious.
Suddenly, an odd sadness washed over Ira’s face, something fleeting and heavy you couldn’t quite unpack. She sighed, rolling her eyes as if a thought she wasn’t comfortable with had flashed through her mind.
“Yeah, you know… Jungkook is… Jungkook.” She paused, then added softly, “He’s complicated. Impossible to read.” Ira let out a soft laugh. “He’s hard to explain. Kind of like the sunset, I guess. Some days you barely notice it, and other days you look up and wonder how something could make the whole sky look different. The funny thing is, it was always there. You just weren’t paying attention.”
She almost said something more. Her lips parted like the words were right there, but she stopped herself immediately, clearing her throat.
You didn’t miss it. You’d never described Jungkook that way. To you, he had always been sharp edges and frustration, fire and ice. But the way Ira said it, it almost sounded like she was in love with him. Or had been.
You didn’t push. You didn’t want to make her feel stupid for nearly opening up.
“You know,” you said gently, “I’ve never thought someone like Jungkook could be described in that way.”
Ira laughed, a little too quickly, clearly embarrassed. “Really?”
You nodded, giving her a small, understanding smile. You weren’t going to deviate from the topic or make her feel exposed. You could tell she was already regretting how much had slipped out.
Ira shook her head, changing the subject with forced lightness. “I just don’t get it, you know? What’s keeping you from going after your heart?”
Yeah, I don’t understand either, you almost said out loud. Instead, you pivot the topic entirely, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable.
“You said you liked my heels,” you said, a playful spark returning to your voice. “I have way better ones in my closet.”
Ira’s eyes lit up instantly. “Oh, is it like a walk-in closet? Like in those barbie movies?”
You giggled, the sheer contrast of it warming your heart. The fact that someone as effortlessly cool, tattooed, and alternative as Ira got genuinely excited over Barbie movies was the best thing you’d heard all week.
“It comes close, yeah,” you said, wiggling your brows. “Do you want a pair?”
Ira looked genuinely flattered, almost shy again. “That’s too nice. I couldn’t possibly take one of your signature pairs…”
“No, you absolutely could,” you insisted. “I have a pair of black ones too, if you’d like those better.”
Ira’s eyes sparkled. You chuckled, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to pull her into a hug. You didn’t. you just wiggled your legs instead, smiling.
“You should come over to my penthouse one day and we can raid my closet properly.”
Ira looked at you like you’d just offered her the moon. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
Baby aida squealed suddenly, wiggling her tiny hands and legs with pure delight as though you’d just played the world’s greatest game of peekaboo, even though you hadn’t. The sight made you smile, wide and genuine, and Ira’s grin mirrored yours.
“Awww, little aida,” you cooed softly.
“Of course we’ll take you with us,” Ira added playfully, watching baby aida reach for your finger.
You scooted closer on the couch, gently holding her tiny hand. The little girl’s face lit up even more, completely happy now that your full attention was on her.
When Ira eventually walked you to the door later with baby aida nestled asleep against her shoulder, she paused in the doorway with a soft smile.
“Maybe it truly is fate, you know,” she said warmly. “The fact that the topic of babies brought us closer in the first place. We should just steal aida and raise her together.”
You laughed, pulling your phone out of your bag as you stepped into the hallway. “Maybe we should.”
“Anyway, I have to go,” you added right after, glancing at the time. “I’ve got quite a long night ahead. Sorority formal, last minute rehearsals… all of that.”
Ira nodded, shifting the sleeping baby gently. “Text me if you need anything. And good luck!”
You gave her one last smile before heading toward the elevator, the warmth of the evening lingering as the door clicked shut behind you.
“You’re in an unusually good mood today.”
Lina peered at you suspiciously over the top of her phone as you enthusiastically rearranged the night’s schedule for the first time, instead of your usual routine of swearing under your breath and drowning in an endless sea of paperwork.
“That’s a very diplomatic way of calling me insufferable, Lina.” You didn’t bother looking up, crossing another item off your checklist.
“And you’re awfully distracted today, by the way.” you added, finally glancing at her over the rim of your glasses.
There was still time. Roughly four hours until the formal officially began. The two of you were dressed in sweats, tucked away in the banquet hall while everyone else trickled in and out. Tables were being aligned for what felt like the hundredth time and volunteers hurried around with flower arrangements and boxes of decorations.
“I’m not distracted,” Lina defended. “I’m just texting Minho.”
“So you are distracted,” you noted again, though you visibly faltered at the mention of his name. The memory of what he’d said about you still stung like an open wound.
You’d rather not think about Minho, or the things he’d said.
“Minho and the rest of them are threatening to show up early,” Lina sighed. “Apparently they’re bored and want to come ’help.’”
“Help?” You snorted. “That’s a generous interpretation.”
“They’re mostly planning on distracting us.”
“Us?” You looked at her pointedly. “Do you mean yourself? Because I happen to be doing exactly what my position requires.”
“She’s right.”
You turned to find your professor walking in, straightening the cuffs of his suit jacket.
“Y/n is quite the most dependable student I’ve had in years,” he said. “Takes her responsibilities seriously, holds herself to impossible standards and somehow still manages to make everyone else around her work harder.”
He smiled; an actual smile. Something he rarely ever did. It caught you off guard. Your professor had always insisted on being hard on you. You’d spent the better part of the semester convinced he enjoyed making your life difficult, forever challenging your work and refusing to hand out perfect scores no matter how passionately you argued your case.
Looking back, maybe he’d seen something you hadn’t; your relentless need to be perfect. And maybe he’d been trying to teach you that excellence and perfection weren’t the same thing.
Somewhere along the way, it had worked. At least a little.
“I’m proud of you, Y/n,” he said simply. “Very.”
Heat crept up your neck.
“Everything looks great for tonight, ladies.” He surveyed the hall with an approving nod. “I’ll have to step out for a bit. My mother’s due for her monthly check-up, but I’ll be back once the formal’s in full swing.”
The moment he disappeared, Lina looked at you. “Teacher’s favourite.”
“I prefer dedicated over favourite.”
“You would.”
A couple hours later, after the worst of the setup had been finished and you’d both finally stolen a break, you leaned back in your chair with a sigh.
“So,” you asked, wiping a stray smudge of glitter from your palm. “have you decided what you’re wearing tonight?”
“Yeah. Purple.” Lina tucked her phone away. “You?”
You nodded toward the garment bag hanging neatly from a nearby rack. Lina walked over, unzipping it just enough to inspect the dress inside. “It’s pretty,” she admitted.
Then she tilted her head. “I was just expecting something... shorter.”
You frowned. “Shorter?”
“Well, yeah.” She shrugged. “You usually go for dresses that are a little more...” She gestured vaguely. “Attention grabbing.”
You stared at her. “I don’t know if I’d call them that.”
“Really?” Lina laughed, like the answer was obvious. “I mean, you kind of have a reputation for making an entrance.”
“...A reputation?”
“Not in a bad way,” she rushed to clarify. “You just like being looked at. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
You looked back at the dress hanging in front of you.
Had you?
“Honestly, I thought you’d wear something that showed more leg.” Lina tilted her head. “Though I guess the neckline balances it out.”
You let out a small laugh that sounded strange even to your own ears. You weren’t entirely sure what she meant by that. Or maybe, with the rumors of the past few weeks burning a hole through your reputation, you knew exactly what she meant, and you wished to God you didn’t.
“I just didn’t picture you in something this... classy.”
You blinked. “Classy?”
Lina looked up from the dress. “Yeah.”
“...What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lina frowned, genuinely confused by the question, seemingly oblivious to the knot she’d just tied in your stomach.
She sighed, crossing her arms. “You know what I mean.”
“No, Lina. I don’t.”
Her phone buzzed loudly, breaking the silence. Lina glanced down at the screen and groaned.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?”
“Minho.”
Your stomach twisted. “What did he do now?”
“Him and the boys are here.”
You frowned. “Already?”
“They said they were coming early.” Lina grabbed her phone and stuffed it into her pocket. “Apparently they’re outside and, quote, ’conducting an inspection of the venue.”
She started walking backwards toward the entrance. “If I don’t go get them, they’ll probably start touching things they absolutely should not be touching.”
“You mean exactly the things we spent all day setting up?”
“Precisely.” Lina pointed a finger at you. “And don’t disappear. I want to see you in that dress later.”
You laughed softly. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.”
With that, she spun on her heel and hurried out of the hall, her voice already carrying down the corridor. “Minho! I swear to God, if you’ve touched anything—”
The doors swung shut behind her. The sudden quiet settled over the space like a blanket. You looked down at the garment bag hanging on the rack, fingers tracing the zipper.
You’d bought the dress because you’d seen it, loved it, and thought nothing more of it. Yet somehow, a few careless words had you looking at it differently.
I just didn’t picture you in something this... classy.
You frowned.
Was that truly how people saw you? someone who dressed for spectacle, for the simplest satisfaction of being watched? With a quiet sigh, you slipped the garment bag from it’s hanger and headed for the small changing room. There were still hours before the formal began, and far too much left to do to dwell on a passing comment.
You’d just stepped into the emerald dress, the cool silk settling against your skin, when you heard movement outside the door of soft footsteps, the faint rustle of someone shifting things around in the main area.
“Lina? Is that you?” you called out. “Are you back already?”
No answer.
You hesitated, then cracked the door open just a little, holding the dress to your chest since the zipper was undone down your back.
It wasn’t Lina.
Jungkook stood right outside, frozen mid step as he caught sight of you through the gap. His eyes darkened instantly as they landed on your bare shoulders and the half zipped dress. For a split second, something sharp flashed across his face, like he’d just imagined the worst.
He pushed the door open fully without a word, stepping inside.
You startled, pressing the dress tighter to your chest.
“Jungkook— what are you—”
He didn’t answer. His gaze swept the small changing room quickly, almost like he was checking for someone else. When he found it empty, the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly, but the cold edge in his eyes remained.
“Came to get the professor’s phone,” he said flatly, holding it up like proof. “He left it behind.”
You nodded, suddenly hyper aware of how exposed you felt, hair messy from the long day. You hadn’t spoken to him since that tense moment in the storage room. You hadn’t known what to say then, and you still didn’t.
Finally, you swallowed and turned slightly, showing him your back. “Can you… help me with the zipper?”
Jungkook hesitated for a few seconds. Then he stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of him behind you. His fingers brushed your skin as he took the zipper, pulling it up clinically. The touch was light, nothing like the way he’d touched you before.
When he finished, he didn’t step back right away. You turned to face Jungkook, heart pounding. and god, you missed him. Jungkook was still in his practice gear, mesh shorts and a sweat drenched jersey, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead. He hadn’t even changed into his suit yet. Looking at him, a sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you. You felt entirely exposed standing there in your formal gown, looking like you’d spent hours trying too hard while he just existed.
“Jungkook…” you started, “I...”
He cut you off with a look. Not angry yet cold. He’d already decided how this conversation was going to go.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quietly. “I get it.”
you blinked, hurt flashing across your face. The coldness in his delivery made everything worse.
“So that’s it?” you asked, voice cracking. “You’re just done? After everything?”
Jungkook looked at you with an unreadable, guarded expression that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous. In your head, Ira’s words from earlier echoed mockingly, how she compared him to the sunset. You almost laughed bitterly.
Have we met the same man?
“I don’t want to fight with you,” you admitted quietly, your hands aching to curl into the front of his jersey, to hold onto something solid before he slipped away from you again. “I just…” The confession felt strangely fragile between the two of you, enough to make your voice catch. “I missed you.”
Jungkook regarded you for a long moment. His expression barely shifted, but you knew him well enough to notice the smallest changes; the flicker in his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed to loosen for the briefest second. You almost saw something there, something that appeared dangerously close to relief. Then the wall slammed back down.
“Okay.”
You stared at him, the single word knocking the breath from your lungs. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
A muscle feathered in his jaw, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s all I’ve got for you.”
He slid the phone into his pocket and turned toward the door, his shoulders rigid, as though every step away from you had to be chosen.
Your gaze dropped to the floor. You couldn’t bear to watch him leave again. Not like this. Not without a fight, or the ghost of his touch lingering against your skin. Nothing. He was leaving you with nothing at all.
Just a distance he’d wrapped around himself so completely, you weren’t sure where it ended and he began.
It was remarkably easy for someone like Jungkook to blend into a crowd. Or so he has convinced himself over the course of his college years. Quiet by nature, content to linger at the edge of conversations and contribute only when prompted. Never the one steering the ship. Most people assume he has little to say while others mistake his silence for indifference.
Neither assumption particularly bothers him. That does not, however, mean he goes unnoticed in the way he believes he does.
It’s an unfortunate trait to possess on a night like this.
The annual formal had always struck him as an odd sort of performance. People squeezed into tailored suits, gathered in little circles, drank terrible beer smuggled in beneath blazers, and reminisced over events that had happened mere months ago as though they belonged to another lifetime.
Jungkook has never cared much for being at the centre of any of it. Minho, on the other hand, thrives there.
“It’s actually insane when you think about it,” Jonah says, taking a swig from the beer he’d somehow managed to sneak inside before quickly tucking the bottle away as a professor passes by. “We’ve all managed to get into relationships and out of them in the span of a year.”
A few of the boys laugh. “You forgot one person.”
Jungkook barely registers the elbow digging into his shoulder until Mark grins at him.
“I genuinely don’t know how you do it, kook-ah.”
Jungkook offered a small shrug, eyes drifting across the hall instead of answering. He wasn’t interested in the center of conversation.
Mark shakes his head before turning to Minho. “Was he always like this?”
“Always. Guy came out of the womb acting too good for everybody.” Minho laughs.
“But…” He continued, leaning back in his chair. “I swear there was one girl.”
Mark snaps his fingers. “Oh, yeah. What was her name?”
“The one with the insane eye makeup, and the crazy hair.”
“Ah.” Minho grins. “Ira.”
Jungkook stills. He’s never liked the way Minho speaks about people. There’s always a note of ridicule tucked beneath his words, as though every person is a joke waiting to be told. Ira is no exception.
It has always irritated Jungkook. Though, if he’s being honest with himself, Minho could’ve spoken kindly and he still would’ve found a reason to dislike him.
Some people simply get under your skin. Jungkook thinks he’s spent the last four years discovering just how deeply Minho can burrow beneath his.
“I think he’s still hung up on her, yeah.” Minho finishes with a laugh while Mark reaches over, giving Jungkook’s shoulder a firm pat. “It’s about time you got a girl.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer as his attention drifts elsewhere, gaze moving from face to face lazily from across the hall.
It’s an absent sort of thing at first, something to occupy himself while the conversation carries on without him. He takes in the clusters of students scattered across the hall, the volunteers weaving through the crowd with urgency.
He’d been here for hours now, long enough to change into a suit, exchange the obligatory greetings, endure conversations with the handful of people he could tolerate, and watch the formal slowly come to life around him.
Still, something feels missing.
His gaze circles the room again. He knows what he’s looking for, and he wishes he didn’t.
You had asked for time. He’d given it to you. There had been no argument, no attempt to change your mind. If distance was what you wanted, then distance was what you would have.
He doesn’t mind.
At least, that’s what he tells himself.
He doesn’t mind the quiet that’s settled into his days, or the way his evenings seem to stretch longer. He doesn’t mind the habit he’s picked up of glancing over his shoulder whenever he hears a familiar cadence of footsteps, only to be met with disappointment. He doesn’t mind that his hands still remember the shape of yours, or that some nights he catches himself reaching for his phone before sense gets the better of him.
He doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care that he’s spent the better part of the evening searching every corner of the hall for a glimpse of you.
He doesn’t care that you’ve managed to avoid him. Or perhaps that’s unfair; you’ve been busy.
You’ve spent weeks putting this entire event together. Of course you’d be occupied, you’d have a dozen places to be and a hundred things demanding your attention. Non of which seem to concern him, obviously.
Then he saw you.
From the corner of his eye, half hidden behind one of the tall floral arrangements near the side tables, you were scribbling something on a notepad, twirling a pen between your fingers like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.
Your hair was tied up neatly and out of the way. The style you only did when you were overwhelmed, when your mind was racing too fast and you needed to feel in control.
He remembered that detail clearly. You hated having your hair up most of the time.
You’d complain about it feeling too tight, too restrictive. But during those heated, frantic nights with him, when you were falling apart under his hands and mouth, you’d try to tie it up anyway, desperate for some semblance of composure.
He’d always stopped you, tugging the tie free with a smirk, loving the way you’d whine and push at his hands while your hair spilled down your back. He loved the mess. Loved the way it gave him access to the soft skin of your neck, the slope of your shoulders, the faint flush that would creep across your chest when you were close.
But this was different. You were stressed, and in a way that made you pull yourself together so tightly you looked like you might snap.
His chest ached with a familiar, unwelcome pull.
He wanted to walk over there. Wanted to tug the tie free like he always did, watch your hair tumble down, and pull you somewhere quiet where he could press his mouth to that exact spot on your neck until you stopped thinking about schedules and rumors and everything else.
Instead, he stayed where he was, fingers tightening around his glass until it hurt.
You hadn’t looked at him once tonight. Not really. And he told himself that was fine. That he didn’t care. But his eyes kept finding you anyway.
Unbeknownst to you, you were far too occupied to notice. The evening had somehow slipped out of your hands and into complete pandemonium. One person needed help finding their table assignment, another insisted the music was too loud, someone from catering wanted to know where to set up the desserts, and a professor had stopped you midway through the hall to ask where the guest book had disappeared to.
You answered each question as quickly as it came, pen scratching across the notepad clutched to your chest as you ticked off tasks that had been completed hours ago. It was a nervous habit more than anything else, a need to reassure yourself that every last detail was exactly where it ought to be.
Lina lingered at your side through most of it, occasionally shoving her half finished glass of wine into your hand whenever she caught you standing still for longer than a few seconds. “Drink,” she'd order, only for you to begrudgingly take a sip before another volunteer called your name from across the room.
The formal was running smoothly, almost suspiciously so, a fact that only seemed to agitate you further as the centrepieces looked uneven, the lighting too dim. Someone had moved a chair out of place.
Lina had spent the better part of an hour reminding you that none of those things were actual problems and that the entire evening was functioning solely because of you. You weren’t entirely convinced.
You hadn’t seen Jungkook all night.
A part of you wondered if he’d decided not to come at all. Another wondered if he had and simply hadn’t wanted to find you. You were still upset with him, still nursing the hurt of your last conversation, but there was something equally unsettling about not knowing where you stood with him. The distance you’d asked for had seemed so straightforward at the time. Now, with the hall filling and the evening unfolding exactly as planned, it felt strangely impossible to navigate.
“Y/n.”
You looked up.
“We need Mark,” Lina said. “The microphones need to be checked before the speeches.”
You scanned the room until you spotted the familiar group gathered near the refreshments table. “He’s over there,” you nodded. “Can you get him?”
Lina made her way across the hall, calling out Mark’s name over the music. The conversation amongst the boys halted almost immediately, and you caught more than one sideways glance directed towards Minho before Mark sighed dramatically and excused himself from the group.
Your eyes followed the movement, and then you saw him.
Jungkook stood a little apart from the others, hands tucked neatly into his pockets, dark suit fitting him far too well for your own peace of mind. Your gaze caught on him for a fleeting second before you looked away just as quickly, fixing your attention back onto the checklist in your hands. It would make the evening easier that way.
You didn’t notice the line you’d already crossed off three times.
“Dude,” Jonah lets out a low whistle, “she’s so fucking hot.”
Jungkook doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about.
“Seriously,” Dae laughs, following Jonah’s line of sight. “Minho, how the hell did you let that slip away?”
“I broke up with her,” Minho reminds them, a little too quickly. “In case you idiots forgot.”
There’s an odd sharpness to his voice that catches Jungkook’s attention. Minho watches you from across the hall, fingers tapping idly against the neck of his beer bottle. Jungkook catches something sour there, something bordering on resentment.
“Doesn’t change the fact that she’s still out of your league though,” Jonah says with a grin. A chorus of laughter follows.
“Oh, come on,” someone scoffs. “She’s got half the department wrapped around her finger.”
“And she knows it,” another chimes in. “Acts like she owns the place.”
“She practically does, y’know. Money and all.” Minho mutters.
Jungkook’s jaw tightens.
Across the hall, you’re balancing three conversations at once, notepad tucked against your chest as someone stops you to ask another question. You answer with a kind smile before pointing them in the right direction, only for someone else to catch your attention a second later.
“She’s so fucking bossy.”
“I’d say high maintenance.”
“I’d say a nightmare.”
“Nah,” Jonah grins. “Depends what you’re asking for.”
The group erupts into another round of laughter.
Jungkook says nothing. He’s heard people talk about you before; usually the same handful of observations. Too loud, too opinionated, too intimidating, too pretty for your own good.
None of it sounds remotely like the girl he knows.
The girl who agonises over seating arrangements because she wants everyone to enjoy themselves. The girl who he’s seen apologizing to inanimate objects after accidentally bumping into them.
“She’s got every guy in this place chasing after her anyway,” Dae says. “I doubt she cares.”
“Nah,” Minho replies, taking another sip of his drink. “She just likes the attention.”
Jungkook’s fingers tighten around his own drink as his gaze drifts back to you.
You’re frowning at the checklist in your hands, lips moving silently as you count through something, completely oblivious to the conversation unfolding a few metres away. Lina nudges a glass of wine into your hand. You roll your eyes but take a sip anyway.
He should say something. He should tell them they’re wrong. Tell them that you work harder than anyone in this room, that the formal they’re enjoying exists because you spent weeks making sure every last detail fell into place.
Instead, he stays quiet. Because speaking up would mean knowing too much.
It would mean noticing the little things no one else does. The way you chew on the end of your pen when you’re stressed, the way your smile changes depending on who you’re talking to, the way you always pretend you’re fine long before you actually are.
It would mean admitting that he’s been paying attention. And Jungkook has spent the better part of the evening pretending he hasn’t.
“…Still would, though,” Jonah says.
“What?”
“Date her.”
A few of the boys snicker. Minho scoffs. “Trust me. You wouldn’t want the headache.”
“I just don’t get it, though,” Dae admitted, leaning against the stool with his arms folded across his chest. “Why’d you break up with her in the first place?” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hell, did you cheat on her?”
A laugh escaped Minho. “No.”
“Then what happened?” Dae questioned further. Minho shrugged, as though the answer were obvious. “I just saw the writing on the wall.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I knew she’d eventually break up with me.” Minho takes another sip of his drink. “Figured I’d beat her to it.”
A chorus of disbelief met the statement. “No chance.”
“I’m serious,” Minho insisted. “You know what she’s like. It was only a matter of time.”
Jungkook remained silent, though his attention had long since drifted from the conversation itself. Across the hall, you were moving between tables with a clipboard tucked beneath your arm. the entire evening seemed to orbit around you.
“It got exhausting,” Minho continued. “Dating her, I mean. She was never really there. Physically, sure, but her mind was always somewhere else. Half the time, I’d be talking to her, and she wouldn’t even hear what I’d said.”
Jungkook frowned, knowing that wasn’t true.
If anything, you listened too much. He’d watched you sit through conversations you had no interest in simply because someone else wanted to be heard. He’d watched you let people interrupt you, take more from you than they ever thought to give back.
“She constantly needed reassurance,” Minho said with a shrug. “Needed attention. Needed me. It got to a point where I realised I was carrying the whole relationship.”
The statement was so absurd that Jungkook almost turns to look at him. Almost.
A few of the boys nodded sympathetically.
Jungkook remembered the late night phone calls you’d taken because Minho was having a bad day. The excuses you’d made for him, the patience you’d shown him, the endless benefit of the doubt you’d afforded someone who’d done very little to earn it.
“She sounds like a lot of work,” Jonah laughed.
“She was,” Minho replied easily. “I’m telling you, I got out at the right time. She likes attention too much anyway. She’d have found someone else eventually.”
“Dude.”
Dae’s laughter cut across the conversation.
“Didn’t you call her a whore?”
Minho looked at him, amusement flickering across his face. “What?”
“You heard me.” Dae pointed at him. “I asked you about her once because I thought she was cute, remember? You were drunk out of your mind, and you told me not to bother because she was a whore.”
Jungkook felt something inside him go still.
Rumours that had spread through campus faster than anyone could trace them back to their source. He remembered hearing them for the first time, the way people seemed to have decided who you were without ever bothering to know you.
He had never known where it had started.
Minho laughed. “I might’ve.”
The others laughed with him. And suddenly, everything clicked into place.
Jungkook set his drink down before he realised he was holding it.
“…Kook?”
He didn’t answer.
The music had become too loud, the laughter around him scraping against something raw, and he found that he could no longer stand the sound of it.
Without a word, he turned and walked away.
The boys watched him disappear into the crowd.
“What’s gotten into him?” Jonah asked.
Minho frowned after him before shrugging. “Not a fucking clue.”
By the time the formal began winding down, you felt as though you’d been on your feet for an entire lifetime.
The speeches had gone off without incident, dinner had been served, and the dance floor had finally filled with enough people that you could stop worrying whether anyone was enjoying themselves. Your checklist had long since become irrelevant, every task crossed off and revisited at least twice over, though you still found yourself glancing down at it every so often out of habit.
A half empty glass of wine rested comfortably in your hand.
Somewhere between the stress of organising the event and the relief of seeing it succeed, you’d lost count of how many glasses Lina had passed your way. You weren’t drunk, not really. The room wasn’t spinning, and your thoughts remained pleasantly coherent, but there was a warmth settling beneath your skin that softened the sharp edges of the evening.
You found yourself looking towards the spot where you’d seen Jungkook earlier.
It was empty.
The boys were still gathered together, though a few had drifted off to the dance floor or the refreshments table. Mark was there. Jonah, too.
Jungkook wasn’t.
“Y/n?”
You looked over to find Lina slipping her phone back into her purse.
“Can you help me clear table six?” you asked.
“Mhm. In a second.” Lina’s attention wandered elsewhere. You followed her gaze only to find it landing on the familiar group of boys across the hall yet again, laughter carrying easily over the music as one of them waved her over.
“…Lina.”
“What?”
“Can you not?”
She blinked at you. “Can I not what?”
“Keep disappearing.”
A small laugh escaped her. “Y/n, I’m literally standing right here.”
“You know what I mean.” You adjusted the stack of place cards in your arms, trying to ignore the warmth the wine had settled into your cheeks. “Every five minutes, you wander off to talk to them, and then I’m left running around trying to sort everything out by myself.”
Lina’s expression shifted, amusement giving way to irritation. “I have been helping.”
You looked at her. “…Have you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She cocks a brow at you, clearly not taking any of this seriously.
“It means I’ve spent the entire evening putting out fires while you’ve been socialising.”
“Oh, give me a break.”
“No, seriously. I ask you to do one thing, and somehow you always end up over there.” You point an accusatory finger toward the group of guys.
Lina folded her arms across her chest. “You act like I’m not allowed to talk to my friends.”
“I act like we’re supposed to be doing this together.”
“We are.”
“Lina.”
“You know what your problem is?” Lina cut in.
You frowned. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“You can’t stand it when things aren’t done your way.”
A short, humourless laugh escaped you. “That’s rich.”
“No, it’s true. You take over everything, and then you get upset when nobody helps you.”
“Maybe because nobody does.”
A few nearby students glanced in your direction before quickly pretending they hadn’t heard a thing.
Lina noticed them too. “You know what?” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not doing this with you tonight.”
“Lina...”
“No.” She picked up her clutch from the table beside her. “You clearly don’t need my help anyway.”
You opened your mouth to argue, though you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to say.
Lina didn’t wait to hear it. She turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with your clipboard tucked against your chest and a dull ache settling somewhere beneath your ribs.
Maybe the wine had gotten to you. And maybe you owed her an apology.
The thought lingered for all of three seconds before someone passed by with a tray of drinks. You plucked another glass from it with a muttered thank you and took a generous sip, letting out a slow breath as the warmth spread through you.
The formal was almost over, everything had gone according to plan. Yet you couldn’t understand why it felt like such a disaster.
Perhaps it was the argument with Lina. Perhaps it was the wine settling warmly in your stomach, blurring the edges of what had already been a long evening. Or perhaps it was the fact that somewhere between checking seating arrangements and making sure the microphones worked, Jungkook had disappeared.
His friends were still gathered together, though their numbers had dwindled as the night wore on. Mark was there. Minho too. A few unfamiliar faces lingered nearby.
You were still upset with Jungkook. Still hurt. The last thing you ought to be doing was wondering where he’d gone or whether he’d left entirely.
You took another sip of wine.
“Tough night?”
The voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to find someone standing beside you, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his slacks, a polite smile settled across his face.
“A little,” you admitted with a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“You’ve been carrying this event on your shoulders for the last few hours. I think you’ve earned the right to look exhausted.”
An awkward smile tugged at your lips. “I’m trying very hard not to take that as an insult.”
“I meant it as a compliment.” The man said, taking a casual step closer as though the conversation had already granted him that privilege.
You searched his face, trying to place him, but came up empty. He wasn’t someone you recognised from campus. Tall and broad shouldered, with a freshly buzzed haircut, there was something disarmingly familiar about him despite the fact that you’d never met.
“You’re Hyun’s daughter, aren’t you?” His expression brightened.
The question caught you off guard. “…Yeah.”
“I thought so.” He nodded to himself. “I knew I recognised you.”
You frowned. “Have we met before?”
“Not officially.” He extended a hand. “My father works with yours.”
Recognition flickered across your face. “…Oh.”
A smile spread across his own, as though he’d been waiting for the moment. “Our families have crossed paths a few times. Mostly business dinners, charity galas, that sort of thing.” He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “My father always insisted on dragging me along.”
A genuine laugh escaped you. “That makes two of us.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that.”
There was something surprisingly easy about talking to him. The conversation slipped comfortably from one topic to the next, talking about his father’s company and the endless networking dinners that seemed to consume the lives of people your parents’ age.
“Your dad’s overseas at the moment, right?” he asked.
You nodded. “Work.”
“He always seems to be travelling.”
You smiled. “He likes to pretend he doesn’t.”
Dae laughed. “That explains the work ethic.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“I’m serious,” he said, gesturing vaguely towards the hall around you. “I’ve spent the entire evening watching you run around this place.”
“Oh, don’t remind me.” You glanced around the hall. Volunteers had started collecting empty glasses from abandoned tables, decorations were being adjusted for the inevitable clean up.
“No, really. I’m impressed. Most people would’ve thrown in the towel halfway through the night.”
“Well,” you sighed, “someone had to make sure this didn’t completely fall apart.”
“I suppose.” His gaze lingered on you for a second before he smiled. “Though I think you’re allowed to relax now.”
For the first time all evening, you considered the possibility. Your checklist had disappeared somewhere hours ago, and the world hadn’t ended because of it. The thought was oddly comforting. “…I guess I am.”
“There she is.”
You frowned. “Who?”
“The person who’s actually enjoying herself.”
A quiet laugh escaped you. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”
“I don’t think so.” The confidence in his answer caught you off guard. “You’ve spent the entire evening taking care of everyone else,” he continued, leaning casually against the table beside you. “I’m just saying it’s nice to see someone making sure you get to enjoy a little of it too.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around the stem of your wine glass. The compliment felt awkward, somewhere between sincerity and teasing, and you weren’t entirely sure what to do with it. You looked down at your drink instead, watching the light catch against the dark red liquid.
“…You know,” you admitted after a moment, “I don’t think we’ve actually introduced ourselves.”
The guy laughed. “I was wondering how long it’d take.” He held out a hand. “I’m Dae.”
You accepted it. “Y/n.”
“I know.”
The answer was so matter-of-fact that it made you laugh. “I suppose everyone does tonight.”
“I’d say you’ve made quite the impression.”
“Oh, please.” You groaned, tipping your head back dramatically. “I’m going to spend the next week lying awake thinking about all the things I should’ve done differently.”
Dae only smiled. “I doubt that.”
“And how would you know?”
“Call it a good judge of character.”
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling back.
It was nice. Strangely nice. And yet, somewhere at the back of your mind, a small, persistent thought continued to tug at your attention.
You still hadn’t seen Jungkook. You told yourself not to think about it.
After a few minutes, he gestured down the quieter end of the corridor.
“There’s a small lounge just around the corner. Much calmer. You look like you could use a real break, y’know. I’ll walk with you.”
You didn’t think much of the offer. If anything, the idea of escaping the noise for a few minutes sounded appealing. Dae had been pleasant company so far, easy to talk, and demanded very little from you. A short walk seemed harmless enough.
“There’s still a few things I need to check though.” you said at last.
“Just for a minute,” he coaxed, voice dropping. “No one will miss you for five minutes. Promise.”
You glanced back towards the hall. For the first time all evening, nobody seemed to need anything from you. “...I suppose that’s true.”
“Come on, then.”
You fell into step beside him.
The corridor was noticeably quieter than the ballroom, the noise of the formal fading with every step. You hadn’t realised quite how much wine you’d had until you were away from the lights and the music. A dull ache had settled behind your eyes, and the neat hairdo you’d insisted on wearing all evening suddenly felt far too tight, pulling at your scalp in an unpleasant way.
You reached up absently, rubbing at your temple.
“Let me guess,” Dae said. “One too many victory glasses of wine?”
A soft laugh escaped you. “No. Not really.”
The hallway narrowed as you walked. A small lounge sat at the end, its lights still on, the door left slightly ajar.
Dae gestured towards it. “There.”
You slowed. “It’s empty?”
“Should be.”
Something in your chest gave a small, uncertain tug. You couldn’t quite place why. Perhaps it was the silence after spending hours surrounded by people, or it was the wine making you overthink things.
You lingered where you stood. Dae noticed almost immediately.
“Hey.”
You looked up to find him a little closer than before, concern settling easily across his features. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I just…” A small, embarrassed laugh escaped you as you reached up to rub at your temple. “I think I’m more tired than I realised.”
“I can tell,” Dae said with an amused smile. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”
Your brows knitted together in mock offence. “I am not.”
“No?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?” There was a teasing note to his voice now, light enough to coax another laugh from you. “Because I’m fairly certain I’ve watched you stumble at least twice since we left the hall.”
“That was the floor’s fault,” you argued.
Dae laughed, shaking his head. “I think the wine might disagree.”
Heat crept into your cheeks, though whether from embarrassment or the lingering warmth of the wine, you couldn’t quite tell. “I’m fine,” you insisted.
His smile softened. “I know,” he said quietly. “I just think you’ve spent the entire evening taking care of everyone else. You’re allowed to lean on someone for five minutes.” Dae suggested, nodding towards the lounge. “Get away from the noise.”
Your eyes followed the direction of his hand, settling on the half open door. And then you paused.
The invitation had sounded harmless enough when he’d first mentioned it, but standing here now, with the night finally settling around you, you realised walking into an empty lounge alone with a man you’d only met twenty minutes ago wasn’t exactly your brightest idea.
Dae had been nothing but kind, his family knew yours, and he’d spent the better part of the conversation making you laugh, but there was a small part of you that decided it would be wiser to call it a night.
“Actually…” You smiled apologetically, taking a small step backwards. “I think I should head back.”
Sometime during the conversation, Dae had moved closer without you noticing. Close enough that the step you’d meant to take backwards ended almost immediately, your shoulders brushing against the wall behind you.
His hand came up, resting against the wall just above your head. A low chuckle escaped him. “You’re leaving already?”
You looked up at him, your smile faltering ever so slightly. “I should probably get back,” you repeated. “People might be looking for me.”
His gaze stayed on you for a second before drifting lower, and something about the look made your stomach twist.
“They can wait a minute,” he said easily.
You glanced past his shoulder towards the ballroom. It wasn’t far. You could be back amongst the crowd in less than a minute.
“I really should go,” you insisted, a little more firmly this time.
Dae only smiled. “Come on,” he murmured. “I thought we were getting along.”
Your stomach dropped when you felt his hand settle on your waist. The touch was too heavy for someone you barely knew. You pushed his hand away immediately.
“No. I need to go back.”
You pressed against his chest, trying to create space, but he leaned in closer, his breath brushing the exposed skin of your neck. The hallway felt narrower, the lights dimmer.
“Come on, Y/n,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “You’ve been running around all night looking like that. Don’t tell me you don’t want a little attention.”
Your breath faltered. You didn’t. You hadn’t been asking for attention at any part of the night, and you certainly weren’t asking for it from him. But the frozen look on your face must have seemed like hesitation to Dae, because his hand inched lower, sliding down the slit of your dress, fingers brushing the bare skin of your thigh.
“Get your hands off me, please. Dae.”
You tried not to sound rude. You didn’t want to make a scene.
Dae sighed, disappointed, like you were the one being difficult. He knew if he pushed any further you might scream or cause a problem he didn’t want to deal with. So instead, he tucked his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
You didn’t notice him tilting the screen, angling it right under the slit of your gown, until the sharp, quiet click of the camera shutter echoed in the narrow corridor.
You froze completely, the realization slamming into you a second too late. Your body went rigid, breath caught in your throat as the weight of what he’d just done settled over you.
Before you could react, a calm, low voice sliced through the corridor.
“Dae.”
Jungkook leaned against the wall a few feet away, hands in his pockets, expression deceptively casual. But his eyes were locked on Dae with a sharpness that made the air feel colder.
Dae straightened instantly, slipping the phone back into his pocket with a nervous laugh. “Kook, hey. Just… catching up with Y/n. You know how it is.”
Earlier that evening, Jungkook had left before he said something he’d regret. That, at least, was what he’d told himself as the doors of the venue swung shut behind him. The cool air had done little to settle the irritation simmering beneath his skin, and somewhere along the way, he’d accepted a cigarette from someone he barely knew.
He wasn’t much of a smoker. Not anymore.
Tonight, however, he found himself standing outside with one balanced loosely between his fingers, watching the smoke disappear into the night sky.
His mind refused to let the conversation go.
“Didn’t you call her a whore?”
Then Minho had laughed.
Jungkook frowned, bringing the cigarette to his lips before thinking better of it.
It all made sense now. The rumours. The way you’d looked at him that evening, anger and disappointment tangled together as you accused him of being no different from Minho.
At the time, he’d thought the accusation unfair. Now he wasn’t entirely sure.
Minho, his supposed best friend. The title almost made him scoff.
People assumed they were close because they’d known each other for years, because Minho was loud enough to fill any silence Jungkook left behind. The truth was far less interesting. Jungkook tolerated him. Barely.
Now, he found he disliked him even more.
He thought about your relationship; not the version Minho had painted for everyone else.
The real one.
You’d never demanded constant attention. If anything, you’d even laughed off comments that should’ve upset you and swallowed frustrations that would’ve sent anyone else walking away.
Minho had called you exhausting. Jungkook knew that wasn’t true.
The cigarette had burned almost to the filter. He dropped it onto the pavement, crushing it beneath his shoe.
His thoughts drifted unwillingly to the last conversation the two of you had shared.
“I don’t want to fight with you.”
He remembered the way your voice had caught.
“I just… I missed you.”
He’d answered with a single word. Okay.
Jungkook scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe he’d been too harsh. Maybe he’d hidden behind silence for so long that he’d mistaken it for honesty.
You’d asked him to kiss you that night, he remembered it with agonizing clarity.
Even then, fueled by rage and bruised pride, the request had hit him like a spark to dry tinder. Every time he looked at you now, the memory resurfaced unbidden: the way your lips had parted slightly, soft and inviting, your breath warm against his skin as you whispered the words. He could still taste the ghost of that almost-kiss.
You’d asked for time. He’d responded by putting an entire ocean between the two of you.
A humourless laugh escaped him. He didn’t care: that was what he’d spent weeks telling himself.
He didn’t care that he’d looked for you the moment he walked into the formal. Didn’t care that he’d noticed every time you laughed.
Didn’t care that he’d spent the better part of the evening wondering whether you’d look his way.
His hand slipped into his pocket as his thoughts wandered once again.
Dae, the senior, the one who’d asked about you. The one Minho had lied to. Jungkook frowned. He hadn’t seen him for a while. Neither had he seen you.
He pushed himself away from the wall. Maybe he’d apologise. Maybe he’d finally hear what you had to say. Maybe he’d just make sure you were alright before the night ended. He wasn’t entirely sure.
He made his way back inside. The music grew quieter as he wandered further from the ballroom. Then he turned the corner.
And saw you.
“Kook, hey. Just… catching up with Y/n. You know how it is.”
Jungkook stepped forward, a charming smile spread across his face.
“Yeah,” Jungkook said, his voice entirely pleasant. “I know how it is.” He let out a soft chuckle, though his eyes remained completely dead as he looked at Dae’s pocket.
“Give me the phone.”
Dae laughed again, trying to play it off. “What? It’s nothing, man. Just a quick picture. She looks good tonight, you know?”
Jungkook’s hand shot out, faster than you could track. He ripped the phone from Dae’s grip, deleted the photo with a few taps, then casually tossed the phone over his shoulder. It struck the concrete wall with a loud, violent crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of dead pixels.
Dae’s face twisted with anger. “What the fuck, man? That’s my phone—”
Jungkook grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, hard enough that the impact echoed. His voice dropped to a deadly calm.
“You think you can put your hands on her? Take pictures of her like she’s something you can own?” His grip tightened, knuckles white. “You think because Minho called her a whore, that makes her fair game?”
Dae tried to shove him off, face red. “Oh, come on, Kook,” his voice dropped into a sleazy murmur. “Don’t be like that. We’re on the same team, right? I’m just trying to get a look at the goods.”
Dae took Jungkook’s fueled silence as a sign to continue. “Tell you what, keep your mouth shut about the picture, and we can share her—”
His words weren’t even fully out of his mouth before the air completely left the corridor.
Whatever calculated restraint Jungkook had been holding onto snapped in a microsecond.
He lunged, his hand wrapping around Dae’s throat like a vice, hauling his entire body weight up and slamming him into the concrete wall with a force that echoed like a gunshot down the hallway. The back of Dae’s head cracked against the stone, the sleazy grin instantly jarring loose from his face.
“Say another word,” Jungkook breathed, his voice dropping into a terrifying, guttural register. His knuckles were pure white against Dae’s throat, his chest heaving as a raw rage took over his features. “Say one more fucking word about her.”
Jungkook’s fist connected with Dae’s face. The punch was brutal. With white knuckled force, Dae’s head snapped back. Another hit followed, harder. Then another. Jungkook didn’t stop. Each strike vicious, fueled by something deeper than just this moment.
You slid down the wall, knees giving out, curling into yourself on the floor, head tucked down. The sounds, the dull thuds, Dae’s choked groans, blurred together. You felt numb. Disconnected, like your body had shut down to protect you from processing what was happening.
Jungkook finally stepped back, breathing hard, knuckles split and bloody. Dae slumped against the wall, face bruised and bleeding.
Jungkook turned to you. His expression softened the moment his eyes landed on your curled up form.
“Y/n…” His voice was rough, gentler now. “Are you okay?”
You didn’t answer. Your mind was blank, eyes distant.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he looked back at you, his eyes reflecting a raw, desperate vulnerability. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.
He crouched down slowly, careful not to touch you without permission. “Do you want me to carry you out of here?”
You stayed silent for a long second. Then, with trembling legs, you pushed yourself up on your own. You didn’t look at him. You just started walking down the corridor, arms wrapped around yourself like you were holding your pieces together.
Jungkook followed a few paces behind, silent and watchful, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you like smoke.
The cool night air hit the moment the heavy glass doors swung shut. Behind you, the venue’s lights burned too bright, and the laughter spilling into the street felt grotesquely loud, completely detached from the quiet violence of the hallway you had just left.
You kept walking until the sheer exhaustion of the movement caught up to you. You stopped. A few paces behind, Jungkook stopped too. He had been a silent, watchful shadow the entire time, keeping a careful, agonizing distance.
Turning around, the first thing that caught your eye wasn’t the tension in his jaw, but his hand. The knuckles were split wide open, fresh blood drying in dark, angry streaks across his pale skin. You stared at it, the sight anchoring you to the reality of what had just happened.
He noticed your gaze, instinctively shifting his weight. “…It’s nothing,”
That single word snapped something coiled tight inside you. “Nothing?”
Jungkook’s brows knitted together, a defensive line forming on his forehead. “You punched him,” you said, your voice tight.
“He touched you.”
“I know what he did!” The words tore from your throat loud, echoing in the empty street. You stood there, letting the anger wash over you because it was so much easier than the alternatives. It was easier than thinking about Dae’s hands, easier than remembering how suffocatingly close he’d been, and infinitely easier than admitting, even to yourself, how utterly terrified you had been.
“I know,” you repeated, softer this time, but the edge remained. Jungkook remained silent, his eyes locked on yours.
“You don’t get to do that.” You sniffled.
“What?”
“You don’t get to shut me out,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to control it. “You don’t get to look me in the eye, tell me you’ve got nothing left for me, and then suddenly show up out of nowhere to decide what happens to me.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.” You cut him off, clinging to the fury. It was a shield against the memory of Dae standing over you. “I could’ve handled it myself.”
Jungkook looked away first, his chest rising with a slow breath before he let out a quiet, defeated, “…Okay.”
“Oh, don’t,” you snapped, frustration boiling over. “Don’t do that. That stupid, one-word-answer thing!” Before the thought could fully form, your hand flew down to your foot. You yanked the first heel off and threw it in his general direction.
Jungkook didn’t even flinch; he just blinked as the shoe bounced harmlessly against the pavement near his boots.
Neither of you moved. “You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, already aggressively tearing the second heel off. “I hate you.” The second shoe landed with a dull thud right beside the first.
Jungkook looked down at the pair of discarded shoes, then slowly raised his eyes back to yours. “…You done?”
A sudden, sharp laugh escaped you, but halfway through, the sound cracked, betraying the raw emotion underneath. “I don’t know,” you admitted.
When the silence settled over you again, the anger had burned itself out, leaving only a profound, mutual weariness. Jungkook cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “Do you have a ride home?”
The practical question caught you entirely off guard. “My driver…” You trailed off, pulling out your phone with clumsy, trembling fingers.
The lock screen was cluttered with notifications, but one text message stood out. It was a long, frantic apology from your usual driver; his wife had gone into labor unexpectedly. Another driver had been arranged in his stead, followed by a stark phone number to call when you were ready.
You stared at the unfamiliar digits. Another driver. Another stranger. Your stomach turned at the thought of getting into an enclosed space with a man you didn’t know.
Jungkook waited, watching the play of emotions across your face. “If you don’t…” he began, cutting himself off before the offer sounded too forward. “I can take you home.”
Looking up, you saw him standing exactly where he had been, respecting the boundary, offering no pressure. Your gaze drifted back to the dark screen of your phone. You knew you should call the agency, but the thought felt physically impossible. Your fingers curled around the device until your own knuckles turned white.
“…Okay,” you whispered.
Jungkook nodded once, offering no smugness. He simply turned toward the parking lot, leaving enough space for you to turn back if you changed your mind. You didn’t. You followed him into the dark.
The interior of his car was a sanctuary of quiet. He unlocked the passenger side first, waiting for you to get in before walking around to the driver’s seat. By the time the engine purred to life, you realized you were still clutching your phone like a lifeline, your hand aching from the grip.
Neither of you reached for the radio. Outside the tinted windows, the city blurred past, indifferent to the chaos of your night. Inside, it was just a space where neither of you had to pretend anymore.
You were the one to break the silence. “So.”
Jungkook’s eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, his profile cut sharp against the passing streetlights. “So?”
A humorless laugh escaped your throat. “What changed your mind?”
His brow furrowed slightly, the muscles in his jaw shifting. “About what?”
“You know.” You leaned back, letting your head rest against the cold glass of the window, watching the neon signs smear across the dark pane. “Coming back.”
Jungkook remained quiet, the hum of the engine filling the void.
“I mean,” you continued, your voice dripping with an exaggerated, cutting thoughtfulness, “last I checked, you told me you had nothing left for me. So I was just wondering, did you magically find something else to give?”
“…Y/n.”
“No, seriously.” The wine was talking now, making your tone slip with a reckless ease that sobriety would have choked back. “What did you think was going to happen? What was the master plan?”
Jungkook glanced over briefly, his dark eyes catching the ambient light of the dashboard. “What?”
“Why did you do that?” your voice came out small, a jagged whisper that cracked on the last word. When he didn’t answer, the panic in your chest flared into a defensive, ugly anger. “Jungkook! Why did you do that? What was the plan there? To make it worse? To give everyone on campus something else to talk about?”
Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. “He touched you, Y/n. He had his fucking phone under your—”
“I know what he did!” you snapped, a hot, humiliating tear finally spilling over your lashes. You wiped it away furiously with the back of your hand. “I know. But you throwing punches doesn’t fix it. It just makes it real. It makes us real.”
You let out a short, hysterical breath, staring wildly at the dashboard because looking at his bloodied hands was making your head spin.
“What did you think was going to happen? That you’d play the hero, and we’d just magically morph into some normal, functional couple? Go on dates, hold hands in daylight? meet each other’s parents?”
A short, bitter laugh cut through the air. “Well, not your parents. You barely let me meet your friends.”
“And then what? we’d get married, buy a house with a stupid white fence, and have children we’d inevitably mess up because that’s apparently how these things work.” You let out, masking a deeper, older ache. “My parents did a brilliant job proving that one.”
Slowly, Jungkook turned his head. He just looked exhausted, his dark eyes taking in your trembling frame, your smudged makeup, the way you were practically trying to disappear into the car door.
“You’re doing it again,” he said, his voice dropping into a quiet register that cut right through your panic.
You swallowed hard, your knuckles turning white against your dress. “Doing what?”
“Hiding behind a worst case scenario because you’re terrified.” He didn’t reach for you, he knew better than to touch you right now.
He took a sharp, frustrated breath, his eyes burning into yours. “You’re shaking because for the first time, someone is furious on your behalf, and you don’t know what the fuck to do with that.”
He let out a tired, breathless sigh, his fingers tightening around the gear shift.
“But fine,” he murmured, shifting the car into drive. “Keep running. Let me know when you’re tired of living in the dark.”
You stared at him, waiting for a proper argument. A sharp retort of any sort.
It never came.
Turning back toward the window, you let the silence settle between the two of you, interrupted only by the steady hum of the engine and the occasional wash of headlights against the windshield. Ira’s voice found you in the quiet, echoing in your mind, “Jungkook reminds me of sunsets, I guess.”
You almost smiled at the thought. Sunsets.
Trust Ira to come up with something so gentle.
The comparison hadn’t made much sense to you because Jungkook wasn’t gentle. He was the sharp retort before you’d even finished your sentence, bickering over things neither of you actually cared about. He was stubborn enough to stand his ground even when he knew he was wrong, and somehow equally stubborn when he knew he was right. He wasn’t something that sat quietly at the edge of the day, waiting to be admired.
Jungkook wasn’t a sunset. If anything, he was thunderstorms.
He was sudden and restless, harbouring the infuriating habit of getting underneath your skin like he’d built a home there. The sort of thunderstorm that rolled in and changed the entire atmosphere before you’d realized what was happening. He was the sort that made you slam windows shut, only to find yourself standing by them a few minutes later, watching anyway.
You frowned, staring out at the dark road. Ira had been wrong.
Glancing over at him, you watched as his attention stayed fixed on the road. He looked exactly the same as he always did, and yet, something had shifted. You thought of the hallway earlier, of him trailing a few steps behind you because he’d known you wouldn’t want him close. You thought of him asking if you had a ride instead of deciding for you, saying almost nothing at all.
Your gaze drifted to your lap. Ira had definitely been wrong. You were almost certain of it. Jungkook wasn’t a sunset. But every now and then, remembering what she said, you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d simply caught him at a different hour of the day.
You weren’t ready to finish the thought yet.
“...Jungkook?” You eventually spoke.
“Yeah?”
You looked down at your lap, tracing the seam of your dress just to have something to do with your hands. “I wouldn’t have gone in there,” you said. “With Dae.”
Your voice was almost swallowed by the hum of the car. Jungkook’s grip tightened on the wheel, his knuckles going white for a split second at the mention of Dae, before he loosened them.
“I wasn’t going to.” you added, firmly, because the silence felt too loud.
The admission settled quietly between the two of you, hanging in the dim space of the car like dust motes in a shaft of light. The road stretched out ahead of you, entirely empty at this early hour.
“I know,” he said eventually, his voice quiet.
You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes never left the asphalt ahead. There wasn’t much else to say after that.
Letting out a soft breath, you leaned your head against the cool glass of the window. The entire evening, all the lights, the suffocating tension, already felt strangely distant, as if it had happened to somebody else entirely.
The car began to slow, the momentum shifting gently as Jungkook pulled up to the curb. You glanced up, expecting the familiar wave of relief that usually came with reaching home. Instead, the moment your eyes hit the building, your stomach dropped.
“…Wait,” you breathed, your posture instantly stiffening.
Jungkook looked over briefly, noticing the sudden shift in your energy. Up on the top floor, the penthouse lights were blazing. It wasn’t just a single lamp left on for security; every single window was illuminated. The kitchen, the sitting room, the study, the entire place was glowing against the dark night sky.
You sat up straighter, a cold knot forming in your chest. “…No.”
“What?” Jungkook asked, his brow furrowing as he followed your gaze.
“My dad,” you said, the words rushing out of you in a panicked breath. “He wasn’t supposed to be home tonight.”
“You said he was overseas,” Jungkook countered, his voice calm.
“He was.” With trembling fingers, you grabbed your phone from your bag. The screen lit up to reveal three missed calls and a string of messages you had completely missed. The first text made your heart sink instantly: Flight got moved. Home early. See you tonight.
“Oh, God,” you whispered, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. You had completely forgotten. Your brain had simply run out of room. “Oh, my God. He’s actually home.”
You looked at Jungkook, but this wasn’t the panic of a teenager terrified of getting caught with a boy. It was the sheer, suffocating dread of a mind pushed past it’s absolute limit. Your father could have been the kindest, most understanding man alive, and it wouldn’t have mattered. You were entirely empty. You were exhausted, your head was splitting from the fading alcohol, and you simply did not possess the emotional currency required to engage in a single conversation.
You didn’t want to answer questions about how your night was, and more than anything, you didn’t want anyone looking at you closely enough to see the cracks.
Jungkook, interestingly enough, was the sole exception. He was the only person you didn’t mind sitting beside in total silence, because he didn’t demand anything from you.
“He’s going to ask questions,” you muttered, looking desperately from the brightly lit penthouse to the windshield, as if a solution might materialize on the glass.
“So answer them,” Jungkook said softly.
You turned to stare at him, your chest tight. “I can’t.”
“Y/n...”
“I can’t,” you repeated, rubbing at your temple, trying to soothe the dull throb there. “I don’t … I don’t know what I’d even say to him. Nothing happened.”
Your fingers tightened around your phone until your knuckles turned white, stomach twisting at the thought of unpacking and having to face the post mortem of the night.
“I just don’t want to talk about tonight,” you finished, your voice dropping to a weary whisper. “I can’t handle it.”
“What if you just… drove away?” you suggested quietly, looking out the window.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, “And then what? You’d still have to go inside eventually. And your dad definitely has security cameras out here.”
You shut your eyes, letting out a defeated groan. “He definitely has cameras. He’s already seen the car.”
“He’s already seen the car,” Jungkook echoed quietly. He paused, watching the way your shoulders sagged. “…Y/n, I can leave if that’s what you want. I can drop you at the lobby and pull away.”
You looked back at him. He was leaving the decision entirely up to you.
Turning your gaze back toward the penthouse, you saw a shadow move across one of the high windows. The finality of it settled heavily in your chest.
“…Too late,” you muttered.
Jungkook followed your gaze up to the glass. “…He’s seen us?”
“He’s absolutely seen us.” Neither of you moved for a long moment, the quiet sanctuary of the car cabin holding you both captive for just a few seconds longer. Finally, you reached for the door handle, bracing yourself for the inevitable.
“Well,” you muttered, your voice flat with exhaustion. “This is going to be a mess.”
You stepped out of the car before you could change your mind, the heavy door clicking shut behind you with a definitive thud. You muttered a quiet thanks over your shoulder, not entirely sure if Jungkook heard it through the glass, and forced your feet to move toward the grand entrance of the building.
Every step felt like pulling your feet through wet cement. The elevator ride upstairs seemed to last a small eternity, leaving you trapped with your own reflection in the mirrored walls. You looked exactly how you felt: tired. Strands of hair were escaping the neat style you had thrown up, your mascara was faintly smudged beneath your lower lashes, and a prominent crease had formed in the silk of your dress.
When the elevator finally chimed, you stepped out to find the penthouse door already unlocked.
“…Dad?” you called out tentatively.
The lights inside were warm, the only sound of the quiet hum of the refrigerator, but then a voice carried easily from the sitting room.
“In here.”
You found him exactly where you had expected to. His suit jacket was discarded carelessly over the arm of the sofa, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his reading glasses were perched low on his nose as he thumbed through a stack of legal papers.
He glanced up as you entered, setting the papers down. “There you are.”
Seeing him, looking completely normal and unbothered, caused something tight in your chest to loosen just a fraction. “You’re home early,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.
“My meeting finished ahead of schedule,” he explained, standing up and crossing the room toward you. “I called.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t answer.” He stopped a few feet away, his analytical eyes sweeping over you before softening almost immediately. “You look absolutely exhausted.”
A breathless, tired sigh escaped you. His gaze lingered on you for another second before drifting past your shoulder, toward the windows that overlooked the street below. “…Who drove you home?”
Your stomach dropped. Of course, the security feed by the gate.
You followed his gaze, looking down into the dark courtyard. Sure enough, Jungkook’s car was still parked at the curb, its headlights cutting twin beams into the darkness.
“He’s…” You swallowed hard, trying to find a neutral tone. “A friend.”
“A very patient friend,” your dad countered softly.
You blinked, turning back to him. “…What?”
“He’s still waiting to make sure you’ve safely made it upstairs.” Your father smiled faintly, a look of quiet approval crossing his features. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Aren’t you going to invite the poor boy inside?”
Your head snapped toward him, your exhaustion momentarily replaced by sheer panic. “What?”
“He brought my daughter home safely late at night,” Hyun said, folding his arms over his chest. “The least I can do is thank him properly. It would be impolite not to.”
“Dad, no. He’s probably planning to leave.” you diverged immediately.
“Has he said that?”
“…No.”
“Then we shouldn’t make assumptions,” he said reasonably.
You stared at him, desperately wishing he would read the silent, pleading signals you were trying to send. He just stared back, entirely immune to them. “…Dad.”
“Yes?”
“What if he doesn’t want to come inside?”
“Then he will politely decline,” your dad replied. There was absolutely no arguing with that logic.
Hyun reached over, picking up his discarded suit jacket from the arm of the sofa and shaking it out. “Well? Aren’t you going to invite your friend in?”
You closed your eyes for a brief, agonizing moment, the throbbing behind your temples flaring up. You knew there was no escaping this. Your dad was stubborn, Jungkook was still waiting downstairs, and you were caught entirely in the middle.
Opening your eyes, you let out a defeated breath. “…His name is Jungkook.”
Hyun reached for his jacket, already making his way towards the foyer as though the matter had been settled long before either of you had spoken. “Then aren’t you going to invite Jungkook in?”
note: hello my loves <3 you might be able to tell why this chapter took me a little longer to write. for me, every part of this story has its own essence, and i really struggled to find that with this one, even though i tried my best to work through it. i know it isn’t perfect, and we had to get through some pretty uncomfortable scenes along the way, poor y/n :(
i can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter though because so much was revealed. and how are we feeling about finally getting jungkook’s pov for the very first time?!! <3
ps, im so so very sleepy. looks like im gonna have to re edit a few things and tag a lot of you guys properly in the morning :s
