the one where you convince your boyfriend to try that stupid tiktok trend - eating sushi off his bicep - only for the sushi not to be the rawest thing caught on camera that night.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
genre: established relationship au, porn with plot, smut, fluff (mdni!)
word count: 8,089
warnings/tags: 18+, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie!, multiple orgasms (like... three), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, recording/filming (the phone is basically a third character), food play (sushi on nipples, sushi on biceps, sushi everywhere), oral sex (f. and m. receiving), breast play (he fucks her tits and it's messy), clit stimulation (so much blowing on it, rubbing, tonguing), fingering, grinding and dry humping, squirting (she literally gushes everywhere), cum play (eating sushi mixed with cum, sucking her own fluids off him), hair pulling/fisting, lip biting, hickies/marking, second person pov, rich miami aesthetic, tiktok trends gone wrong (or right), that lip ring doing damage, "i fucking love you" ending, soft aftercare
a/n: I was in the process of writing chapter 3 for my jungkook series "purple tears I cry," and a certain sushi scene made me think of this that I just had to write a whole separate oneshot smut for it. this is genuinely nasty, please read at your own risk! hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of it... don't forget to reblog <3
The Miami humidity clings to your skin the moment you step out of the Uber, but the restaurant's AC hits like a wall of relief, crisp and expensive-smelling, all yuzu and polished wood and money. Nobu. Of course he chose Nobu. You catch your reflection in the dark glass doors, your teal dress catching the neon glow from the street, the silk clinging to the curve of your hips in a way that makes Jungkook's hand tighten at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who you belong to tonight.
Your hair is up, mostly, a messy twist that took you forty minutes to make look effortless, two strands curling against your collarbones like they have a mind of their own. Your skin glows, sun-kissed and dewy, and you feel his eyes on you, always on you, as the hostess leads you to the corner booth. You make sure to sway your hips a little more than necessary because you know he's watching, know his gaze is fixed on the way the silk shifts over your ass.
He's wearing a white button-up - one that should look innocent, corporate, boring, except he's left the first five buttons undone, and the fabric gapes open to reveal the hard plane of his chest, the ink that spills over his shoulder and disappears beneath the cotton. His lip ring catches the low light when he smiles at you, silver glinting against his mouth, and something low in your stomach tightens because you know exactly how that metal feels against your throat, your breastbone, the inside of your thigh. You know how it feels when he drags it down your stomach, when he looks up at you with those dark eyes while he tongues you open.
You slide into the booth and immediately pull out your phone, propping it against your water glass, angling it just so. The red recording light blinks to life. Jungkook raises an eyebrow but says nothing, just settles across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table, his foot hooking around your ankle to pull you closer.
"Documenting the experience?" he asks, his voice low, rough, the kind of voice that makes you think of hotel sheets and sweat and the way he sounds when he's inside you.
"Memories," you say, but your eyes drop to his mouth, to the silver ring there, and you know he sees it, knows exactly what you're thinking. You adjust the phone slightly, making sure the frame catches both of you, the candlelight, the way his shirt falls open when he leans back.
The server arrives with menus you don't need because you already know what you want, what you always want here. But Jungkook takes his time, asks questions about the omakase, the wine pairings, his voice smooth and deliberate while his shoe slides up your calf beneath the table, pushing the silk of your dress higher, higher, until it brushes the back of your knee and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound.
"Spicy tuna," you manage, your voice breathier than you intended, and Jungkook's eyes darken because he knows, he always knows what he's doing to you.
"Two orders," he says to the server, not looking away from you. "And sake. The good stuff."
The sake arrives in a ceramic flask, and he pours for you, his fingers brushing yours as you take the cup, and you make sure to let your tongue linger on the rim when you drink, watching his jaw tighten, watching his gaze drop to your mouth. You set the cup down and lean forward, the neckline of your dress gaping just enough, and you see his eyes flick down, see his throat work as he swallows.
"You're playing with me," he murmurs, and his shoe presses harder against your leg, insistent.
"Maybe you're playing with me," you counter, and you kick off your heel under the table, let your bare foot find his thigh, slide up, up, until you're pressing against the hard outline of him through his trousers, and he hisses, his hand gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white.
"Careful," he warns, but his hips shift, pressing into your touch, and you smile, sweet and dangerous.
"Or what?"
The spicy tuna arrives like art, ruby-red and glistening, arranged on black slate with edible flowers you won't eat. You take the first piece with your fingers because fuck the chopsticks, and Jungkook's gaze tracks the movement, watches your lips close around the fish, the rice, the wasabi that burns just enough. You moan, deliberately, because you know what it does to him, and his jaw tightens, that muscle jumping beneath the skin, his hand disappearing beneath the table where you know he's adjusting himself.
"Good?" he asks, voice wrecked already, ruined, and you haven't even started.
"So good," you say, and you take another, and another, each time making sure to lick your fingers after, slow, obscene, your eyes locked on his. You can see the flush spreading up his neck, can see the way his chest rises and falls faster than it should, the open shirt showing too much skin, the tattoo peeking out, and you want to trace it with your tongue, want to mess up his hair and ruin his composure right here in this restaurant full of people who think they're being subtle about watching you.
You lean back, your foot still working him beneath the table, and you reach for your phone, checking the angle, making sure it's still recording. You tilt it slightly to catch more of him, the candlelight catching the silver in his lip, the way his eyes look black with want.
"Say hi to the camera," you tease, and he does, his voice rough, his smile sharp and predatory.
"Hi, camera," he says, and then, lower, just for you, "Can't wait to see what you do with this footage later."
You take another piece of tuna and hold it out across the table, an offering, a test. He leans forward, never breaking eye contact, and takes it from your fingers with his teeth, his tongue brushing your fingertips, hot and wet, and you feel it everywhere, feel it between your legs where you're already aching, already soaked through your underwear.
"Jungkook," you breathe, and he catches your wrist, holds it, sucks your fingers into his mouth one by one, cleaning them, his tongue swirling around each digit while the restaurant noise fades to nothing and there's only him, only this, only the wet heat of his mouth and the promise of what comes after.
"You're killing me," he murmurs against your palm, his lips brushing the sensitive skin at your wrist, and you shiver, your foot still pressed against his hard length, feeling him throb even through the fabric.
"Good," you whisper. "Suffer."
You eat slowly, deliberately, drawing out every bite, every sip of sake, every moment of his foot tracing patterns on your calf, his knee pressing between your thighs under the table. You talk about nothing, everything, your voice light while your body screams for him, while you watch the sweat bead at his hairline, watch him shift in his seat, uncomfortable and hard and yours.
By the time you're full, stuffed, the silk of your dress feels tighter across your ribs, and you lean back with a groan, hand on your stomach, your foot finally retreating from his lap. He exhales, shaky, and adjusts himself again, not subtle, not caring who sees, and you love him like this, undone, desperate, ready to drag you out of here and fuck you in the Uber if he has to.
"I can't," you say, patting your stomach. "I'm gonna burst."
Jungkook smirks, that dangerous smirk that means trouble, that means you're in for it the second you get back to the hotel. "Shame. I like watching you eat."
"Pervert."
"Your pervert."
You flag down the server, ask for a takeout box, and Jungkook pays without looking at the check, just slides his card across the table like the amount doesn't matter, because it doesn't, not to him, not to either of you tonight. You pocket your phone, the recording still running, capturing everything, capturing the way he stands and offers you his hand, the way he pulls you against him in the elevator, his mouth at your ear.
"You're going to pay for that," he whispers, and you shiver, feel his hand slide down to grip your ass, squeezing hard.
"Promise?"
The hotel suite is all white and marble and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, dark now, just a black expanse beyond the glass. You kick off your heels, your feet sinking into carpet that probably costs more than your first car, and you collapse onto the sectional, pulling out your phone, scrolling through the footage while he pours himself a drink at the mini bar, his back to you, the white shirt pulling across his shoulders, the tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve.
TikTok. Endless, brainless TikTok to wind down.
A couple on a beach. A dance trend you don't care about. A recipe for something with feta cheese.
Then: a girl, pretty, blonde, sitting cross-legged on a bed in what looks like a generic hotel room. Her boyfriend beside her, shirtless, flexing his bicep. The girl grins at the camera, then at him, and unwraps a sushi roll, places it on the hard curve of his muscle, and leans down to take it with her teeth. The comments are screaming. The views are in the millions.
You stare at the screen.
You stare at the takeout box on the coffee table.
You stare at Jungkook, who's pouring himself a drink, his back to you, the white shirt still open, showing too much skin, the lip ring catching the light when he turns his head.
Enlightenment.
You set your phone down. Stand. Cross the room on bare feet, silent, predatory. He hears you, turns, glass halfway to his lips, and you pluck it from his hand, set it on the marble counter with a clink that sounds like a promise.
"Take your shirt off," you say.
His eyebrow arches, that lip ring catching the light again. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." You reach for the takeout box, open it, the spicy tuna still perfect, still glistening, and you can feel him watching you, confused and curious and already getting hard because he always gets hard when you use that tone, that minx tone, the one that means you're about to ruin him.
He sets the glass down. Undoes the remaining buttons slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. The shirt falls open, then off, and he's bare in front of you, all golden skin and ink and muscle that makes your mouth water. You step closer, close enough to feel the heat coming off him, and you press your palm to his chest, right over his heart, feeling it thud against your hand.
You set your phone down on the marble counter, angling it just so, the red recording light blinking like a heartbeat in the dim room. You want this captured, want the lens to swallow every moment of what comes next, want to watch it later and feel the heat crawl up your neck all over again. Jungkook's eyes flick to the device, understanding dawning dark and dangerous in his gaze, and when he looks back at you, something has shifted. The playful tension from the restaurant has evaporated, replaced by something heavier, hungrier, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.
You lean in, your hair falling forward, those two dark strands brushing his shoulder like silk curtains framing the moment. You don't go for the sushi yet. You press your mouth to his throat first, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to make him groan deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your lips. His hand comes up to tangle in your updo, disheveling it further, fingers tightening in your hair until your scalp sings with the sting of it. You lick the salt from his skin, taste the cologne at his pulse point, the musk of him underneath, and you feel him shudder beneath your mouth, feel the sushi roll shift against your cheek as he breathes ragged and wrecked.
"You're insane," he murmurs, but his voice is already ruined, gravel and velvet, and you smile against his neck, teeth grazing his tendon, feeling his cock twitch against your hip through his trousers.
"Wait until you see what comes after the appetizer," you whisper, and finally, finally, you turn your head and take the sushi between your teeth, your eyes locked on his, watching him watch you, watching the way your lips close around the rice and fish, the way your throat works as you swallow, and the sound he makes is animal, guttural, something torn from deep in his chest that makes your thighs clench together with nothing but air between them.
He moves before you can even taste the wasabi. His hands find your waist and he's lifting you, setting you down on the cool marble counter like you weigh nothing, like you're something to be arranged, positioned, consumed. The stone bites against your bare thighs where your dress rides up, and you gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard into your flesh, cold and burning all at once. He tastes like sake and want and the promise of destruction, and you open for him, let him take, let him plunder your mouth with a desperation that makes your head spin.
"Look at you," he breathes against your jaw, his teeth dragging down your throat, sharp and claiming. "Look at you, playing with fire, recording this, thinking you're in control."
His hands find the thin straps of your teal dress, silk whispering against your skin like a secret. He doesn't rush. He takes his time, sliding the straps down your shoulders with agonizing slowness, his eyes tracking every inch of exposed flesh, his pupils blown wide and black with desire. The silk catches on your nipples for a heartbeat, clinging, teasing, and then it falls, smooth as water, pooling at your waist, and you're bare for him, your breasts heavy and full, nipples tight and aching in the cool hotel air, no barrier between his gaze and your skin.
He stares. The silence stretches, thick and electric, and you feel beautiful, powerful, laid out like a feast on this marble altar. His throat works, his hand coming up to cup you, weigh you, his thumb dragging across your nipple so slowly you whimper, arching into his touch.
"No bra," he observes, his voice rough, almost reverent. "You were planning this. Walking around that restaurant with nothing under this dress, teasing me, letting me wonder."
"I wanted you to wonder," you admit, your voice breathless, broken. "I wanted you to think about it all night."
"Evil," he murmurs, and then he's bending his head, his mouth closing over your nipple, hot and wet and devastating, and you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he sucks, as his tongue circles and flicks and drives you mindless. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same worship, the same relentless attention, and you're squirming on the counter, your hips rolling, seeking friction, seeking him.
He pulls back with a wet sound that makes you blush even as you moan for more. His eyes are dark, predatory, the playful boyfriend from the restaurant gone, replaced by something that looks at you like you're prey, like you're his to ruin.
"Bed," he commands, his voice leaving no room for negotiation, no room for anything but obedience. "Now. On your back."
You slide off the counter, your legs shaky, the silk of your dress catching on your hips as you move. You cross to the bed, each step feeling like you're walking through honey, through heat, your body thrumming with anticipation. You climb onto the white sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin, and you lie back, your breasts falling to the sides, heavy and aching, your hair spilling across the pillows in waves.
He follows you, stalking across the room with a predator's grace, all bare chest and ink and the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. He stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over you, devouring you, and then he reaches for your phone still sitting on the counter, brings it with him, sets it on the nightstand angled perfectly to capture everything, the red light blinking like a third heartbeat in the room.
"Keep it recording," he says, not a request but a decree. "I want you to watch this later. I want you to see what you look like when you're being fucked properly."
He undoes his belt with slow, deliberate movements, the leather hissing as he pulls it free, the metal clinking as he drops it to the floor. His trousers follow, and his underwear, and then he's naked, glorious, his cock thick and heavy and curving up toward his stomach, the tip already wet with arousal, the veins along the shaft prominent and pulsing. You can't help but stare, can't help but lick your lips at the sight of him, at the thought of taking him inside you, anywhere, everywhere.
He climbs onto the bed, crawling up your body like a storm rolling in, all dark intent and coiled power. He doesn't touch you where you want him most, not yet. Instead, he straddles your chest, his knees settling on either side of your ribs, his hands bracing on the headboard above you, caging you in, trapping you beneath him. You can smell him, musk and sweat and something uniquely Jungkook, can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the weight of him hovering above you.
"Look at you," he breathes, his hand coming down to grip himself, to stroke once, twice, the sight obscene and mesmerizing. "Look at these perfect tits. Do you know how many times I've thought about this? About fucking them? About painting you with my cum?"
You whimper, arching up, and he takes that as invitation, as permission. He leans forward, guiding himself down, the hot, heavy weight of his cock settling into the valley between your breasts, skin against skin, velvet over steel. He groans, long and low, his head falling back, the column of his throat working as he begins to move.
He starts slow, rocking his hips, sliding himself through your cleavage, the friction making him hiss, making his abs tighten and flex with each thrust. You press your breasts together, creating a tighter channel for him, and he groans your name like a prayer, like a curse, his pace quickening, his hips snapping faster, harder. The head of his cock peeks out from between your breasts with each forward thrust, glistening and flushed, and you crane your neck, wanting to taste, wanting to lick the salt from his skin, but he pulls back just enough to deny you, a wicked smile playing at his lips.
"Greedy," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm, his control fraying at the edges. "So fucking greedy for it. You want this? Want me to cum all over you? Mark you?"
"Yes," you gasp, your own arousal spiraling tight and hot between your legs, the sight of him using you, losing himself in your body, driving you wild. "Yes, please, Jungkook, please-"
He breaks. His hips stutter, his hand gripping the headboard so tight his knuckles go white, and he comes with a shout that sounds torn from his soul, thick ropes of cum spilling across your chest, your throat, marking you, claiming you in the most primal way. He keeps thrusting through it, milking himself, his cock twitching against your skin, until he's spent, until he's trembling above you, his chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his inked shoulders.
The silence that follows is broken only by your ragged breathing, by the wet sounds of him still sliding against your cum-slicked skin. He looks down at you, at the mess he's made of you, and his eyes flash with something dark and satisfied, something possessive.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his hand coming down to smear the evidence of his pleasure across your breasts, your nipples, making you glisten with him. "So fucking beautiful."
He reaches over to the takeout box still sitting on the counter, forgotten until now, and retrieves another piece of spicy tuna, the fish still cool, still perfect. He brings it to your chest, and you watch, breathless, as he places it carefully on top of your nipple, the sushi resting there like an offering, like sacrilege.
He bends his head, his eyes locked on yours, and takes the sushi between his teeth, his tongue dragging across your nipple as he does, hot and wet and filthy, sucking the fish and your flesh together, the combination of sensations making you cry out, making your back arch off the bed. He chews slowly, savoring, his hand coming up to palm your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple, spreading his own release across your skin in obscene patterns.
When he swallows, he surges up, his mouth crashing against yours with a ferocity that steals your breath, his tongue thrusting deep, sharing the taste of tuna and salt and him, his teeth catching your lower lip, the metal of his piercing dragging against your sensitive flesh. He kisses you like he's starving, like he wants to consume you whole, like the camera isn't even there, like the world has narrowed down to just this, just you, just the wet heat of his mouth and the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.
"Mine," he growls against your lips, the word vibrating through your chest, through your bones. "Say it."
"Yours," you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging crescents into his inked skin. "I'm yours, Jungkook, I'm-"
He cuts you off with another kiss, deeper, harder, his hand sliding down your body, beneath the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist, finding where you're wet and aching and ready, and you know this is only the beginning, know that the night is long and the camera is still rolling and he's nowhere near finished with you.
He pulls back from the kiss with a wet, filthy sound that echoes in the quiet room, his eyes dark and glittering with intent. His hand is still between your legs, his fingers spreading your wetness in slow, teasing circles, and you arch into his touch, desperate, needy, your hips rolling to chase more friction.
"Give me the phone," he commands, his voice rough as gravel, as velvet, as something dangerous wrapped in silk.
You reach for it with trembling fingers, the device still warm from where it sat recording, and you hand it to him, your breath catching as he takes it, as he adjusts the angle, as he points the lens down at you like he's directing a film where you're the only star.
"Look at you," he murmurs, the camera capturing everything, capturing the flush spreading down your chest, the way your breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath, the sheen of sweat and his release still glistening on your skin. "Look at this fucking body. Do you see what I see? Do you see how perfect you are?"
He shifts back on his knees, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and he hooks his fingers in the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist. He pulls slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fabric sliding down your hips, your thighs, leaving you completely bare, completely exposed to the lens, to his gaze, to the hungry darkness in his eyes.
"Spread your legs," he orders, and you do, your knees falling open, your thighs trembling as the cool hotel air hits your heated core. You feel exposed, vulnerable, the camera recording every inch of you, the way your pussy glistens with arousal, swollen and pink and aching for him. He zooms in, the lens close enough to capture the details, the way you pulse with need, the way your thighs are already shaking with anticipation.
"Beautiful," he breathes, the word almost reverent, almost profane. "Look at this pretty pussy. So wet for me. So fucking ready."
He sets the phone down on the mattress, angled up at you both, the red light blinking steady and watchful. But then he's reaching for your hand, pulling you up, placing the device in your trembling grip.
"Hold it," he instructs, his voice dropping lower, filthier, his eyes locked on yours with a command that brooks no argument. "Record me. Don't you dare stop filming, understand? I want you to capture every second of this. I want you to watch later and see exactly what you do to me."
You nod, your throat too tight to speak, and you angle the camera down, your fingers shaking as you focus the lens on him, on where he's settling between your thighs like he belongs there, like he's coming home.
He looks up at you through his lashes, that silver lip ring catching the light, and he knows, he always knows what that piece of metal does to you. He runs his tongue over it slowly, deliberately, letting you watch the way it moves, the way it glints, and your breath hitches because you can feel it already, can imagine the cool metal against your overheated flesh.
"You like this?" he asks, his voice a purr, a promise, a threat. "You like watching me? Like knowing I'm about to wreck you with this mouth?"
"Yes," you whimper, the camera trembling in your grip as you hold it steady, as you capture every moment.
He starts at your knee, his mouth hovering, his breath hot against your skin. He blows, a gentle stream of air that makes you gasp, makes your leg jerk in his grip. He holds you steady, his fingers digging into your thigh, and he drags his lips up, up, not touching, just breathing, just letting you feel the ghost of him, the promise of him.
He reaches the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he pauses, his eyes flicking up to the camera, to you, holding your gaze as he blows again, right there, right where you're throbbing, where you're aching, where you're dripping for him.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking, the camera shaking in your hand. "Please, Jungkook, please touch me-"
"Shh," he soothes, his breath washing over your clit, hot and cool and devastating. "I've got you. Be patient, pretty girl. Be good."
He blows again, directly on your clit this time, the sensation shocking, electric, making you cry out, your hips bucking off the mattress. He holds you down with one hand on your stomach, pinning you, controlling you, and he leans closer, closer, until you can feel his breath fluttering against your most sensitive flesh, until you're trembling, until you're sobbing with need.
"Look at the camera," he commands, his voice vibrating against your thigh. "Don't look at me. Look at the lens. Show them how pretty you are when you're desperate."
You force your eyes up, staring into the small black circle of the phone's camera, your vision blurred with tears, your mouth open, your chest heaving. You look wrecked, you know you do, you can see your reflection in the dark screen, can see the way your hair is tangled and wild, the way your lips are swollen and red, the way your body is flushed pink with arousal.
"Good girl," he praises, and then he finally, finally, touches you.
His tongue drags through your folds in one long, slow stroke, hot and wet and perfect, and you scream, the sound tearing from your throat, your hips bucking against his mouth. He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and he does it again, and again, lapping at you like he's starving, like he wants to taste every drop of your arousal, like he could spend hours here, drowning in you.
He focuses on your clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue, then the tip, then flicking it, relentless, merciless, driving you higher and higher until you're panting, until you're chanting his name like a prayer, like a curse, until your thighs are trembling on either side of his head.
"So fucking loud," he murmurs against you, the words muffled, filthy. "Let them hear you. Let the whole fucking hotel hear what I'm doing to you."
He pulls back just enough to speak, his chin glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark and wild. "Keep recording. Don't you dare stop."
You nod frantically, your hand cramping around the phone, but you hold it steady, you keep the lens focused on him, on where he's watching you with predatory intensity.
He slides one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He adds a second finger, stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars.
"More," you gasp, your head falling back, but he clicks his tongue, sharp and reprimanding.
"Eyes on the camera," he reminds you, his voice stern, commanding. "Look at me through the lens. Show me that pretty face."
You force your head up, your neck trembling with the effort, and you stare into the camera, your eyes wide and glassy, your mouth open as you pant. He adds a third finger, the stretch burning so perfectly you sob, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, and he starts rubbing your clit with his other hand, circling it in tight, relentless patterns while his fingers work inside you, while he crooks them to hit that spot, that perfect spot, over and over and over.
"You're taking three fingers so well," he praises, his voice dripping with filth, with pride. "Look at you, stuffed full, dripping down my hand. You love this, don't you? Love being watched, love being used, love being my little porn star."
"Yes," you cry out, the camera shaking as your orgasm builds, coiling tight and hot in your belly. "Yes, yes, Jungkook, please, I'm gonna-"
"Not yet," he cuts you off, his fingers stilling, his hand pulling away from your clit, leaving you hovering on the edge, desperate and whining. "Not until I say. Keep holding that camera. Keep recording. I want to see your face when you cum all over my tongue."
He dives back in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking you with wet heat while his thumb presses hard against your clit, rubbing in furious circles. The dual sensation is too much, overwhelming, devastating, and you're screaming now, loud and unrestrained, your voice raw as you chant his name, as you beg, as you plead for release.
"Jungkook, please, please, I can't, I need to-"
"Cum," he commands, the word vibrating against your core. "Cum for me now. Let me taste it. Let me drink you down."
He sucks your clit into his mouth, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard against the sensitive bud, and you break. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, like a storm, like something violent and beautiful and earth-shattering. Your back arches off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head, your hand spasming around the phone as you cry out, loud and broken and his, completely his.
He doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing out your pleasure until you're shaking, until you're sobbing, until you're pushing at his shoulders because it's too much, too sensitive, too everything.
He finally pulls back with a wet, obscene sound, his chin dripping with your release, his eyes dark and satisfied and wild. He looks at the camera, looks directly into the lens where you're still recording, still capturing every filthy moment, and he licks his lips, slow and deliberate, savoring your taste.
"Delicious," he murmurs, the word dripping with innuendo, with promise. "My favorite meal."
He crawls up your body, his skin hot against yours, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes like you, like him, like everything dirty and perfect and yours. The camera is still recording, still capturing, still blinking its red light in the dark room, and you know, you know this is a night you'll be watching back for years, a night that will never stop making you blush, making you ache, making you want.
"Good girl," he whispers against your lips, his hand tangling in your hair, his body heavy and warm above you. "You did so well. You held it the whole time."
He takes the phone from your trembling grip, checks the recording, a smug, satisfied smile playing at his lips. "Perfect angle. Look at you, pretty thing. Look how beautiful you are when you cum."
He shows you the screen, and you watch yourself, watch your face contort with pleasure, watch your body arch and shake, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck even as you feel yourself getting wet again, already wanting more, already wanting everything he has to give.
He pulls you up, his hands rough at your waist, flipping you until you're straddling him, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands braced on his inked chest. The sweat-slick slide of your skin against his is electric, devastating, and you can feel him hard and thick beneath you, pressing against your thigh, leaving wet trails of pre-cum against your skin.
"Come here," he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling you down until your mouths crash together, teeth clicking, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate dance. He tastes like you, like sake, like the lingering spice of tuna and salt and sex, and you moan into his mouth, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding your soaked core against his rigid length.
"Fuck," he breathes against your lips, his hips bucking up to meet you, the friction making you both gasp. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good."
You reach for the takeout box still within arm's reach, your fingers trembling as you unwrap another piece of spicy tuna, the fish cool and glistening in the dim light. You break the kiss, sitting back on your heels, and his eyes track your movements, dark and questioning, until you lean forward and place the sushi directly on his nipple, the pink flesh peeking through the dark ink of his chest tattoo.
"Christ," he hisses, his head falling back against the pillows, his throat working as you bend down, your hair creating a curtain around you both.
You take the sushi between your teeth first, biting down, the flavor bursting across your tongue, but then you keep going, your mouth closing over his nipple, sucking hard, laving it with your tongue, the combination of cool fish and hot skin making him arch off the bed, his hand flying to your head, gripping tight.
"Oh fuck," he groans, long and low, the sound vibrating through his chest into your mouth. "Oh fuck, baby, fuck-"
You suck harder, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and he cries out, his hips jerking up, his cock sliding through your folds, bumping against your clit with each thrust of his hips. You release his nipple with a wet pop, looking up at him through your lashes, your lips swollen and glistening.
"You like that?" you purr, your voice dripping with filth, with power. "Like me eating off you? Like being my plate, my meal?"
"Yes," he pants, his eyes blown wide, his chest heaving. "Fuck yes, anything, everything-"
You start grinding in earnest, rolling your hips, sliding your soaked pussy along the length of his cock without letting him inside, teasing, torturing, your clit dragging against his rigid shaft with every movement. The friction is delicious, maddening, and you're both moaning, the sounds filling the room, raw and unfiltered.
"Oh fuck, baby," he chants, his hands gripping your waist, your hips, guiding your movements, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Oh fuck, just like that, just like that-"
You lean down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your mouth at his ear. "Feel how wet I am?" you whisper, your voice a dirty secret. "Feel how much I need you? I've been dripping for you all night, Jungkook. All fucking night."
"Shit," he groans, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm. "Shit, you're gonna make me cum like this, make me-"
He reaches for the phone, his hand trembling as he angles it up at you, capturing the way you move above him, the way your body undulates like a wave, like something primal and ancient and devastatingly beautiful.
"Look at this," he murmurs, his voice wrecked, his eyes flicking between the screen and your face. "Look at you, grinding on me like a little slut, so desperate for it. You want this cock, baby? Want me to fill you up?"
"Yes," you whine, your movements becoming erratic, desperate. "Please, please, I need it, need you inside-"
He drops the phone to the mattress, the camera still recording, still capturing everything, and he grips your hips hard, lifting you, positioning you above him. You reach between your bodies, your hand wrapping around his thick length, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch, your head falling back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you, fills you, completes you.
"Fuck," you gasp, your hands braced on his chest, your nails digging crescents into his skin. "Oh fuck, Jungkook, you're so big, so-"
"Move," he commands, his voice guttural, his hands guiding your hips. "Ride me, baby. Show me how good you are."
You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him drag against your walls, hitting places that make your vision blur. He keeps one hand on your hip, guiding you, controlling the pace, while the other reaches for your breast, palming the heavy weight, his thumb dragging across your nipple.
"The sushi wasn't the rawest thing tonight," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours, dark and possessive. "This is. You and me, like this, nothing between us. Just raw, filthy fucking."
You moan, your movements speeding up, your hips snapping down harder, taking him deeper, until he's hitting your cervix with each thrust, the stretch bordering on pain but feeling so perfect you can't stop. He grabs the phone again, angling it up at you, capturing your face contorted with pleasure, your breasts bouncing with each movement, the place where your bodies join, wet and obscene.
"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice reverent and filthy all at once. "Look at you, taking me so well. My perfect girl."
He flips you suddenly, his strength shocking, his movements fluid and predatory. You're on your back before you can process the shift, him settling between your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, his hands bracing on either side of your head.
"Recording," he commands, pressing the phone into your trembling hand. "Don't stop. I want you to see this. Want you to watch later and see exactly how I fuck you."
You hold it up, the lens focused on where your bodies meet, and he pulls out slowly, agonizingly slowly, until just the tip remains inside you, glistening with your combined arousal. He hovers there, teasing, and you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.
"Quiet," he orders, his voice sharp. "Be quiet and listen. Listen to how wet you are for me."
He thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound is obscene, wet and filthy, your arousal squelching around him, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your hand shaking as you hold the camera steady, capturing the way he pulls out and thrusts back in, over and over, the rhythm building, the sounds growing louder, wetter, more desperate.
He pulls out completely, his cock slapping against your stomach, wet and heavy, and he drags the head through your folds, bumping against your clit, circling it, teasing it with short, sharp jabs that make you cry out despite your best efforts to stay quiet.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking. "Please, Jungkook, please fuck me, please-"
He lines himself up and thrusts back in, but this time he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't tease. He starts pounding into you, hard and fast and merciless, his hips snapping forward with a force that moves you up the bed, your head hitting the headboard with each thrust. He's fucking you like he hates you, like he loves you, like he wants to crawl inside your skin and never leave.
"Scream," he commands, his voice ragged, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who you belong to. "Let me hear you. Let the fucking city hear what I'm doing to you."
You scream. You can't help it, the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming, building and coiling tight in your belly, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. He's recording your face, the camera capturing your mouth open in a silent scream, your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your temples into your hair.
"That's it," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he chases his own release. "That's it, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock, let me feel you-"
You break. Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and beautiful, your pussy clamping down on him, milking him, and he groans, long and loud, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless. But as you come, as your body convulses around him, something else happens, something wet and shocking, and you're squirting, actually squirting, your release gushing out around his cock, mixing with his cum, creating a mess of fluids that soaks the sheets, his thighs, drips down your ass.
"Holy shit," he breathes, his eyes wide and wild, the camera still recording, capturing the obscene flood of liquid, the way it glistens on his skin, the way your body continues to shake and convulse. "Holy fucking shit, baby, look at you, look at this-"
He pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, dripping with your combined release, and he holds it up, angling the camera to capture the mess, the way his cum mixed with your arousal drips from his shaft, thick and white and obscene.
"Suck it," he commands, his voice rough, his hand tangling in your hair. "Suck your cum off my cock. Clean me up, kitten."
You scramble down, your body still trembling from aftershocks, and you take him into your mouth, tasting yourself, tasting him, the mixture salty and musky and filthy. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head, and he groans, his hand tightening in your hair.
"Fuck, yes," he pants. "My balls, kitten, suck my balls."
You pull back, your hand wrapping around his shaft, and you duck down, taking one testicle into your mouth, then the other, rolling them on your tongue, sucking gently while your hand works his length. He pulls your hair, guiding you, his hips bucking slightly, and then you pull back, kitten licking him, small, teasing laps at the head of his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes, innocent and filthy all at once.
"Perfect kitten," he breathes, his voice wrecked, his eyes dark with renewed desire. "My perfect little kitten. Look at you, so eager, so good for me."
He starts fucking into your mouth, his hand guiding your head, his hips snapping forward, pushing his cock deep into your throat, and you relax, let him use you, let him take what he needs. He's relentless, his stamina shocking, and you can feel him swelling, feel him getting close again.
"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice strained. "Gonna cum again, baby, gonna-"
He thrusts deep and holds there, his cock pulsing, and he spills down your throat, hot and thick, more than you thought possible, more than should be human. You swallow, your throat working, your eyes watering, and when he finally pulls out, spent and trembling, you collapse back onto the pillows, laughing, the sound breathless and beautiful and disbelieving.
"I can't believe you had all that cum inside you," you marvel, your voice hoarse, your lips swollen and glistening. "That was... that was the third time?"
He collapses beside you, his chest heaving, his skin flushed and sweaty and marked by your nails, your teeth, your possession. He pulls you into his arms, his hand cradling your head against his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering, feel the rumble of his laughter.
"For you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your hair. "Only for you, pretty girl. You drain me completely. You ruin me."
The phone is still recording somewhere on the bed, still capturing the aftermath, the sweat-slick mess of your bodies, the way you curl into each other like survivors of some beautiful storm. But for now, you just breathe, just exist in this moment of shattered, perfect aftermath, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest, his hand stroking lazy circles on your back.
He doesn't ask. He just moves, shifting off the bed with a grace that seems impossible for someone who just spent himself three times over. You hear water running in the bathroom, the sound of a cloth being wrung out, and then he's back, kneeling between your thighs with a warm, wet towel in his hand.
He cleans you slowly, carefully, his touch reverent where it had been ruthless before. He wipes away the mess of your combined release, the sweat, the evidence of everything you did together, and his eyes follow the path of the cloth with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. He presses kisses to your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach, each one soft and lingering, worshipping you in a different language than the one he used when he was inside you.
When he's finished, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls up your body, his weight settling over you again, but different now, protective, cocooning. He finds your mouth, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that tastes like salt and love and exhaustion. He bites your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, pulling slightly until you whimper, and then he releases you with a laugh, low and warm and vibrating against your skin.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw like he's memorizing you, like he's trying to commit every inch to memory. "You're so fucking beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?"
You smile, your hand coming up to tangle in his hair, still damp with sweat. "Show me," you whisper back.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his eyes dark and endless and full of something that makes your breath catch. He cups your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing over your swollen lips, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, stripped bare, nothing but truth.
"I fucking love you," he says. "I love you so much it scares me."
The words hang in the air between you, heavy and real and perfect, and you pull him down, kiss him deep and slow, pouring everything you can't say into the movement of your lips against his.
The camera is still recording somewhere, still blinking its red light in the dark, but neither of you reach for it. Some moments are just for you. Just for this. Just for the two of you, tangled in white sheets in a Miami hotel room, sweating and spent and in love, the rawest thing either of you have ever known.
im curious, as a person who writes amazing jungkook angst fics , im assuming you have your own favourite fics too (from diff authors ofc) , would u mind spilling it? 👻 lol! u dont have to answer if u dont want to~
+ ps im asking bcs your writing is very immaculate and mature ALSO very interesting plots . so im curious about your fics reads 😮💨
hi anon 🫶 if you’re an amazing angst fic writer then i need you to send me your works hello??
i’m usually ridiculously picky when it comes to angst, but a few fics that immediately come to mind are:
• amended by foxymoxy on ao3
• neighbour blunder on ao3, the author goes by awrkive on tumblr
• scattered stars by @taegularities on tumblr
oooooh, and • the love prognosis by awrkive deserves an honorary mention because that fic single handedly helped me romanticize my internship at the hospital lololol
the most recent angst fic i‘ve read was the wife trap on tumblr by @wintrbears and i genuinely fear i do not possess the vocabulary necessary to describe the psychological devastation that fic inflicted upon me. it ripped my heart out, stomped on it repeatedly then handed it back to me. truly top tier, absolutely catastrophic reading experience, could kiss the writer’s beautiful brain and hands.
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 🫶💋
The loud bass pulses through the sidewalk before you even reach the entrance—a black metal door. The club sits in a neighborhood that looks like it’s been forgotten on maps, or one people are too afraid to step foot in.
The pavement, covered with cigarette butts, old oil stains, and torn flyers, makes it feel like a ghost town. A few people stand outside the building, chatting and smoking. Old vehicles—only a handful, easy to count—are parked in the distance, looking almost abandoned under the dim streetlights.
With each step closer, the music’s beat grows heavier and lower, like your own heartbeat. There’s no reason to be scared—just cautious—as you sneak a glance at a bald, muscular man who looks intoxicated and ready to chew someone’s head off.
This is no fancy club. There are no velvet ropes, no long lines, no excitement lingering in the air. At least, not for you.
If it weren’t for a twist of events, you would never come here voluntarily. Your outfit says otherwise, though.
You stand close to your friends, practically glued to their sides, as the man who looks like a straight-up junkie moves toward the club’s door. Oh, he’s the bouncer.
As he eyes all of you with empty orbs, part of you wishes he would turn you away and not let you enter this place. Your wish isn’t fulfilled. The bouncer gives Mario a curt nod, and that’s all it takes for your friend to lead the way.
As soon as the door opens, the music becomes sharper and clearer. There’s only a small space before it leads downstairs to the basement. This place is everything a mother would tell you to avoid.
Good thing you don’t have one.
Neon lights grow more visible with each step, covering the floor in flickering electric pink, acid green, and colors you don’t even get to notice as they shift too quickly. As you make it down to the main room, your mouth drops—and so does your heart.
The place is packed, so much so that it makes you question if it’s really that good. The exterior alone—the entire neighborhood—is just not it. How does Mario even know a place like this? How does he even know this part of town?
You make a mental note to question him later, because he sure as hell didn’t mention any of it. All he said was that the booze is cheap and the place is fine. If leaving means paying more for the few shots you’re about to have, so be it.
From the looks of it, everyone else is on board and follows him.
The air is thick with a mixture of scents you can’t even name. There’s a distinct smell of cigarettes, weed, and perfume—the rest, you’d rather not identify. By the time you’re out of here, you’ll reek of this place and probably have to burn the nice dress you’re wearing.
Mario promised he was only dropping something off, so this should be quick— in and out. It should be quick enough for you to grab a drink and hopefully head somewhere else.
El leans closer, her shoulder bumping into yours as she tries to be heard over the pounding music. Her voice still barely cuts through it.
“What is this place?”
You follow her gaze—and that’s when you see it.
Ahead of you, past the blur of bodies and neon light, there’s a ring. Not the kind you’d expect. Not clean, not professional. A fence cages it in completely, metal bars rising high enough to make it feel less like a sport and more like containment. Like whatever goes in there isn’t supposed to get out.
It looks barbaric. Primal. Like it was built for animals.
And the people gathered around it—too many, too eager—aren’t just passing by. They’re waiting.
You swallow, leaning in so El can hear you.
“It looks like a nightmare.”
El lets out a short breath that might be a laugh, might be something else. She tilts her head, eyes scanning the ring with something closer to curiosity than concern.
“I’ve been to worse.”
For once, you don’t question her.
El’s always been the one to drift into places like this without hesitation, coming back with stories she tells like they’re nothing—like they didn’t happen. You used to think she exaggerated.
Now, standing here, you’re not so sure.
The crowd shifts, tightening around the fence as if pulled by the same invisible string. Someone shoves past you, the smell of sweat and smoke clinging to them. Another voice shouts something you can’t make out, swallowed whole by the bass.
You glance around for Mario, but he’s already a few steps ahead, carving a path like he belongs here.
That doesn’t sit right.
Your fingers curl slightly at your sides, the fabric of your dress suddenly feeling too thin, too out of place in a room like this. The air presses in, thick and suffocating, buzzing with anticipation.
Whatever is about to happen in that ring—
You’re not sure you want to see it.
But the crowd isn’t leaving.
And neither are you.
Mario weaves through the crowd like he’s done it a hundred times, barely checking if you and El are still behind him. You push through shoulders and elbows, the press of bodies tightening the closer you get to the fenced ring.
He finally stops, gesturing toward a narrow stretch of space wedged between a rusted railing and a couple already arguing over something you can’t hear.
“Here.”
Seats is a generous word. It’s more like a claimed patch of ground—third row, if you had to guess. Not close enough to touch the fence, but close enough that whatever happens in there won’t be easy to ignore.
You glance toward the ring again.
Up close, it’s worse.
The ground inside looks… wrong. Like it’s been scraped clean over and over again. The surface is uneven, rough in places—but there are faint traces that didn’t quite disappear. Darker patches. Stains that the dim, flickering lights can’t fully hide.
Your stomach tightens.
Mario claps his hands once, like he’s wrapping something up. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Your head snaps toward him. “What do you mean stay here? What the hell is this place?”
He sighs, but it’s not sharp or annoyed—more like he just doesn’t have the energy for this right now. His eyes flick briefly toward the ring, then back to you.
“I’ll get you your drinks,” he says, already half-turning away. “What d’you want?”
You hesitate, glancing around again—the crowd, the fence, the floor inside the ring.
“I’m not sure I want to drink anything from this place.”
El snorts beside you, loud enough to earn a glance from someone nearby.
Mario rolls his eyes. “God, you’re such a snob.”
You scoff immediately. “I’m not—”
“We’ll have vodka,” El cuts in, waving a hand like she’s sealing the deal.
Mario nods once, like that settles everything, and disappears back into the crowd before you can argue further.
For a second, it’s just you and El, the noise, the heat—
And then the music cuts.
Just like that.
A sharp hum of feedback cuts through the silence, and a man’s voice follows, loud and grating through the speakers.
“Alright, alright—eyes up!”
You look toward the ring.
The man holding the microphone steps into the light, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you should take him seriously. He looks like he’s somewhere in his forties, head completely shaved, his clothes hanging off him like they don’t belong to him—too big, too worn, sleeves slipping past his wrists. The kind of outfit that looks like it was pulled from one of those street donation bins, the ones meant for charity but always picked through before anything gets there.
He has that same look, too.
Like the kind of guy you’d cross the street to avoid.
But here—here, he owns the room.
“Welcome, you animals!” he shouts, grinning wide enough to show crooked teeth. “You came hungry tonight, yeah?”
A laugh almost slips out of you.
It’s not even that funny—but something about the way he says it, like he means it, like he’s not talking to the crowd but about them, hits in a strange way. Humor, sharp and dry, cuts through the unease curling in your stomach.
Because you already have a feeling what that ring is for.
And somehow, that makes it worse.
The reaction is instant.
The crowd erupts—loud, aggressive, overwhelming. It slams into you from all sides, so intense it makes you flinch. It’s not just cheering. It’s something rougher. Hungrier.
You hadn’t realized how many men were packed into this place until now. Your stomach twists.
The man laughs into the mic, feeding off it. “That’s what I like to hear!”
He paces along the edge of the fenced ring, dragging the moment out before throwing one arm toward the entrance on the opposite side.
“Let’s not waste time. Get ready for your first fighter of the night—give it up for…” he pauses, milking it, “…Blue Viper!”
The name hits, and the crowd roars again.
A man steps into the ring.
He’s lean, all sharp lines and defined muscle, abs catching the harsh lights as he moves. Royal blue shorts hang low on his hips, matching gloves already strapped tight around his hands. He lifts his arms the second he steps inside, like he’s already won, soaking in the noise like it belongs to him.
It probably does.
“What the fuck,” you mumble under your breath.
Beside you, El swallows, eyes fixed on the ring.
“How does Mario even know about this place?” you add, quieter now, like saying it too loud might make it worse.
But there’s no time to think. The man with the mic raises his hand again, the crowd slowly settling—not quiet, never quiet, just waiting.
“And his opponent…” he continues, voice dropping just enough to build it back up, “—ah, this one doesn’t need much of an introduction.”
A ripple moves through the crowd. You feel it before you understand it.
“He’s your favorite,” the man grins. “Your undefeated—your JK!”
For a split second, your brain doesn’t catch up.
And then—
The crowd explodes. Louder than before. Wilder. People shouting, pushing forward, fists hitting the fence.
The fence door screeches as it’s pulled open.
And then he steps in.
JK.
The noise swells instantly, people pressing closer, shouting his name like it means something—like he means something. But he doesn’t even acknowledge it. Not a glance, not a flicker. His focus is locked straight ahead.
On his opponent.
He moves like he already knows how this ends.
Every step is controlled, deliberate. His body shifts under the harsh lights, all muscle and definition—abs tight, arms flexing with even the smallest movement. There’s no wasted motion in him. No nerves. Just quiet, coiled readiness.
His opponent tries to hold his ground, but you catch it—the slight tension in his stance, the way his shoulders tighten under JK’s stare.
Like he already feels it.
Up close, you catch more of him. A sharp jawline, clean and defined, his expression unreadable. When he turns slightly, the line of his back comes into view—lean, strong, every muscle moving under his skin like it’s carved there.
You hate to admit it.
But—yeah. He’s hot.
And apparently, you’re not the only one who noticed.
You glance at El, and—
Right. Of course.
She’s staring at him like she just found religion, eyes practically sparkling.
“Holy fuck,” she breathes. “Suddenly I like being here.”
You snort, shaking your head, even though your own attention has definitely sharpened.
Still…
Your gaze drifts back to the ring, to the fence, to the crowd pressing in like this is the only thing that matters. You’re not sure you like this.
Because it’s obvious now. This isn’t just some weird club attraction. This is underground fighting—illegal, brutal, the kind of thing people don’t talk about in daylight.
And somehow, Mario brought you here.
Of all places.
Your brows pull together slightly as you scan the crowd again, unease settling back in.
Mario has always had… questionable connections. The kind you and El never really asked about, choosing instead to ignore whatever didn’t fit into your version of him.
Mario slips back beside you like he never left, pressing a cold glass into your hand. “What’d I miss?” he asks, far too casually.
You turn to him immediately, irritation rising. “What the hell is this, Mario? What are we doing here—and how did you think this was a good idea?”
He exhales, already looking like he doesn’t want to deal with this conversation, but you don’t let up.
“Seriously. This place—this isn’t normal.”
El doesn’t even glance at him. Her attention is locked on the ring, eyes sharp with interest, like she’s already decided this is worth watching. You, on the other hand, can’t stop thinking about the cage, the crowd, the way everyone seemed to be waiting for something violent to happen.
“What is this place?” you ask again, quieter now, but no less firm.
Before he can answer, a sharp bell rings out, cutting through the noise and pulling every ounce of attention back to the ring.
The fight starts instantly. The other guy lunges first, throwing a punch that should land—but JK shifts just enough for it to miss, his movement so subtle it almost looks lazy. Another swing follows, then another, each one missing by inches as JK slips past them with controlled precision, like he’s already mapped out every move before it happens.
You don’t even realize your grip on the glass has tightened until your fingers start to ache. There’s something hypnotic about the way he moves—smooth, efficient, completely unbothered. He doesn’t rush or panic, doesn’t even try to overpower. He just watches, waits, and lets the other guy wear himself down.
For a moment, it almost feels intentional, like he’s letting him try.
Taunting him.
The thought settles just as the other man commits to another strike, stepping in harder this time, putting everything behind it—and that’s when JK finally moves forward. His fist connects cleanly, the impact sharp enough to echo even through the roar of the crowd, sending the man stumbling back until his body slams into the fence with a harsh metallic rattle.
The reaction around you is immediate and overwhelming, the crowd exploding with noise that makes your brows pull together as it crashes into you from all sides. But your focus stays on the ring, on the thin line of blood already slipping from the man’s nose, stark against his skin.
Your stomach twists, but not enough to make you look away.
Without thinking, you lift the drink Mario handed you and down it in one go, ignoring the burn, the taste, the suffocating thickness of the air. Your eyes stay locked on the fight, tracking every movement, every shift.
And somewhere in the middle of it, you realize your attention isn’t just caught—
it’s hooked.
The fight doesn’t slow down—it shifts entirely in JK’s favor.
Once the other man hits the ground, something in JK changes. Whatever restraint he had disappears as he follows him down without hesitation, delivering punch after punch with the same controlled force. Each hit lands with a dull, sickening impact, the sound carrying even through the roar of the crowd.
The man barely manages to get his arms up, but it doesn’t do much. Blood spreads quickly—across his face, down his chest, soaking into the already worn surface beneath him. Those faint stains you noticed earlier are no longer subtle. They’re fresh now, darker, undeniable.
JK’s gloves are black, thick. The color hides most of the blood, swallowing it instead of putting it on display, but not entirely. A darker sheen clings to them, catching under the harsh lights every time his fists rise and fall.
Your stomach tightens as the noise around you grows louder, more aggressive, feeding into every hit instead of pulling back from it. It starts to feel like too much—too close, too real, too far past the point where someone should have stepped in already.
“Mario,” you say, leaning toward him, your voice strained as you try to be heard over the chaos. “Is there—do they have a restroom or something?”
He doesn’t answer right away, his attention still fixed on the ring, jaw set like he’s invested in how this ends. For a second, you think he didn’t even hear you, but then he glances over, quick and distracted. “Yeah. Down the hall, to the left.”
You nod, already shifting your weight as you turn to El. “Come with me.”
She doesn’t move. She doesn’t even look at you. Her eyes stay locked on the ring, her expression sharper than before, completely absorbed in what’s happening. It catches you off guard, enough that you pause for a second, staring at her like you don’t quite recognize this version of her.
“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath, but she doesn’t react, and it leaves you standing there alone with the noise pressing back in.
Because the fight wasn’t bad at first—it was controlled, almost impressive in a way you didn’t expect—but this is different. This is something else entirely.
Your gaze drifts back to the ring despite yourself, catching the way the man on the ground jerks under another hit, a broken grunt slipping from him as he tries to move, to shield himself, to do anything at all. No one steps in. No one even looks like they’re thinking about it.
A cold thought settles in as you watch.
You hope this isn’t one of those fights—the kind that doesn’t end until someone doesn’t get back up—because the way that man looks right now, barely moving, barely holding on, makes it hard not to think he’s already getting close.
Before you can see anything else, you’ve had enough.
You don’t care how dodgy this place looks anymore—only that you need a second to breathe. The thought crosses your mind, sharp and unwelcome, that walking out alone probably isn’t the smartest idea. A single woman slipping away from a crowd like this doesn’t exactly scream safe. Still, you push it aside, stand up, and follow the direction Mario gave you.
The further you move from the ring, the more the place reveals itself—and none of it is reassuring. The air is thick with alcohol and weed, clinging to the walls, to your skin, to the back of your throat. The dim lighting doesn’t help, casting everything in a dull, grimy glow that makes even the hallway feel like somewhere you shouldn’t be.
You tug your dress down instinctively, suddenly too aware of how short it is, how out of place you feel. The red lipstick you put on earlier now seems like a mistake. If only you had known where you were coming.
The restroom is worse.
One look inside is enough. The smell hits first, then the stained tiles, the flickering light, the general state of neglect that makes your stomach turn. You don’t even consider using it. Instead, you step up to the sink, eyes lifting to the mirror.
You look… composed.
More than you expected, at least. Even with the frown that’s probably been stuck on your face since you walked in, you don’t look shaken. Not on the outside.
You turn on the tap, rinsing your hands out of habit more than anything, the faint taste of vodka still lingering on your tongue. Somewhere in the distance, even from down the hall, you can still hear it—the cheers, muffled but persistent, like a reminder that whatever is happening in that ring hasn’t slowed down.
You don’t want to be here.
But you also don’t want to be left out.
The thought pushes you into motion again. You dry your hands quickly and head back out, picking up your pace as you move down the hallway, unease settling deeper with every step. The walls are lined with old posters, most of them ripped or peeling, leaving behind only fragments—faces without names, events long gone, nothing fully readable.
It only adds to the feeling that you shouldn’t be here.
You’re halfway down when it happens.
You nearly stop in your tracks.
He’s there.
The man from the ring—the one who was just getting beaten—walking toward you like nothing happened. Up close, it’s worse. Blood still clings to him, smeared across his face and chest, his steps uneven, his body barely holding itself together.
And behind him—
The man with the microphone follows, saying something you can’t quite catch.
Your attention snaps forward again.
Because coming straight toward you—
JK.
He’s already out of the ring, moving fast, like the fight meant nothing. The gloves are gone, replaced by white wraps around his hands, slightly darkened in places. His hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, his skin glistening under the dim lights as he closes the distance without slowing down.
For a second, you freeze.
Then instinct kicks in and you step aside quickly, pressing yourself against the wall just as he passes. He doesn’t even look at you. Doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t acknowledge you at all.
It’s like you’re not even there.
Like if you hadn’t moved—
He would’ve walked straight through you.
Your thoughts barely have time to settle before they’re cut off.
“El—?”
She rushes into view, nearly colliding with you, her expression completely different from the one she had just minutes ago. Whatever excitement she had is gone, replaced with something far more overwhelmed, almost frantic.
“I need the bathroom,” she blurts out, slightly breathless. “Like, right now. I had—shit—I had like three shots in five minutes.”
You blink at her, still catching up. “Where’s Mario?”
El glances back over her shoulder, like she expects him to magically appear behind her. “He said he needed to go too. Just disappeared into the crowd.”
You frown immediately.
Of course he did.
You bite back the first thing that comes to mind, irritation flaring as you glance past her, half-expecting to spot him somewhere down the hall. Nothing. Just the muffled noise from the main room and people moving around like nothing just happened.
Great.
You’ll definitely have to curse him out later—for leaving you alone earlier, even if the whole crowd had still been focused on the fight. At least then, everyone’s attention had been locked on the ring. Now? The fight is over, the tension is shifting, and you don’t even know how to guess who won.
Worse, El could’ve gotten lost in that mess.
Or someone could’ve—
You cut the thought off as your attention sharpens.
Because you can feel it now.
The looks.
They weren’t as obvious before, not when everyone had been too distracted, but now that the focus has broken, it’s different. There aren’t many women here—you’ve noticed that much—and the way some of the men look at you now makes your stomach twist. Lingering stares. Slow, knowing grins that feel far too comfortable.
You scoff under your breath, disgust curling in your chest as you turn back to El.
“The bathroom’s a nightmare,” you warn her. “Like, seriously not usable.”
El groans, clutching her stomach slightly. “I don’t care. My bladder is about to explode.”
Yeah. No arguing with that.
You nod, stepping aside to let her move past you. “Fine. Go. I’ll stay right outside.”
She doesn’t hesitate, already pushing the door open.
You stay put in the hallway, crossing your arms loosely as you position yourself near the wall, trying to look like you belong there more than you feel like you do. The noise from the main room is still there, dulled now, but enough to remind you you’re not completely alone.
Still—
You really hope no one tries to talk to you.
You don’t have to wait long before something shifts again.
Footsteps echo down the hall, heavier this time, more purposeful. A guy comes into view—blonde, maybe mid-twenties, wearing an oversized shirt that hangs loose over a pair of worn jeans. There’s nothing particularly threatening about him at first glance, but the way he carries himself makes people move.
“Get lost,” he says, voice flat, like he’s said it a hundred times before.
The men lingering too close—too interested—pause. You hadn’t even fully clocked how near they were getting until now. One of them mutters something under his breath, low and irritated, but before anything can escalate, a woman slips up beside them. She leans in, whispers something quick into one of their ears.
The reaction is immediate.
Their expressions shift, something greedy lighting up in their eyes, and just like that, they back off, leaving without another glance.
You feel your stomach turn.
Disgust settles in deep as you press your lips together, forcing yourself not to react more visibly. Whatever she said—it worked too easily.
You take a few steps further down the hall, needing the distance, the space. Behind you, the noise from the main room is starting to die down, the chaos thinning out into something more controlled. It sounds like they’re clearing people out, or at least resetting the space for whatever comes next.
That thought alone makes your skin crawl.
Ahead of you, the blonde guy reaches a door—one you hadn’t paid much attention to before—and pushes it open without hesitation.
And for a split second, you see inside.
It’s a medium-sized room, dim but cleaner than the rest of this place, like it serves a different purpose. Your brain barely has time to process the layout before something—someone—snags your attention completely.
Mario.
Standing there like he belongs.
Your breath catches, surprise hitting first, sharp and immediate. So much for the bathroom. He didn’t even come this way—the toilets are further down, you know that now.
But the shock doesn’t stop there.
Because sitting in one of the chairs—
JK.
Up close, under better light, he looks just as composed as he did in the ring, even now. Someone—a young guy, too young if you’re being honest—is crouched in front of him, carefully unwrapping the white tape from his hands. The fabric is stained in places, and as it comes loose, you catch glimpses of reddened skin underneath.
The kid works quickly, like he knows what he’s doing, like this is routine.
Of course it is.
Nothing about this place is legal. Nothing about it is normal.
Your eyes flick back to Mario, disbelief settling in heavier now. He lied. Not even well—just enough to get away from you and El without questions.
Before you can take in anything else, the door swings shut.
You’re left staring at it, mouth slightly open, like your brain hasn’t caught up to what you just saw.
Mario. In there. With him.
“El?”
She comes back a second later, pushing the bathroom door open with a relieved sigh. “Ready?”
You turn to her, still half-stunned. “I—there’s a room down here. Mario’s in it. And… the guy who was in the ring is in there too.”
El freezes. “What?”
“And some kid—like, actually a kid—is cleaning him up. I don’t even—” You shake your head, trying to piece it together. “This is weird.”
El blinks a few times, processing, then shrugs slightly. “Maybe Mario just knows people here?”
You stare at her. “That doesn’t make it less weird.”
She hesitates, glancing between you and the closed door. “So… what are we doing? Waiting?”
You frown, something in you snapping into place. You’re done waiting. Done being brushed off, lied to, dragged somewhere without knowing why.
Without another word, you step forward and push the door open.
The reaction is immediate.
Conversation cuts off mid-sentence. Every head in the room turns toward you, like you just walked into something you weren’t supposed to see.
Mario looks the worst out of all of them—caught, completely unprepared. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out.
Your gaze shifts past him.
JK is still sitting, his hands half-unwrapped, the young guy working on them pausing mid-motion. For a second, he doesn’t even acknowledge you. His eyes stay lowered, focused on his hands—
Then he looks up.
Your eyes meet, just briefly. Long enough for something to register—sharp, assessing. His gaze drags over you, slow and deliberate, before his expression tightens slightly, like he’s already decided you don’t belong here.
“And what are you doing here?” the blonde man asks, voice flat, almost tired, like this is an inconvenience.
El hovers just behind your shoulder, peeking in, her eyes going wide the second they land on JK. “Fuck,” she whispers, not nearly as quiet as she probably thinks.
You don’t react to her.
Your attention is locked on Mario now. “I should be asking you that.”
He winces slightly, like he expected that, but still doesn’t have a good answer.
The men in the room don’t miss the tension, the way your eyes narrow, the way Mario shifts under it. Something clicks between them, unspoken.
The blonde man exhales sharply, already over it. “Listen, you have no place being here.” His gaze flicks to Mario. “Take your bitches out of here.”
“Excuse me?” you scoff immediately, offense flaring hot and fast. The word hits wrong—too casual, too familiar, like it’s something he says often.
He doesn’t even react. If anything, he looks bored, like he’s seen this exact reaction a hundred times before.
Maybe he has.
“Look, just—give us a minute,” Mario cuts in quickly, stepping forward like he’s trying to manage damage control. “I’ll come out and explain, okay?”
“And wait out there? With all the junkies?” you shoot back, anger creeping in sharper now. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
Your patience is gone.
Before Mario can respond, movement pulls your attention again.
JK stands.
The shift in the room is subtle, but it’s there. He rolls his shoulders once, flexing his hands slightly as the young guy quickly gathers the bloodied wraps and cotton, tossing them aside.
“Take this outside,” JK says, voice low and steady, carrying easily through the room.
It’s not loud, but it doesn’t need to be. It lands heavy anyway.
He doesn’t look at anyone again.
Just walks past, disappearing through another door without a second thought.
Silence lingers for a second after he’s gone.
Then the blonde man steps forward slightly, already done with this entire situation. “I’ll be in touch,” he says curtly, though it’s clearly meant for Mario. His gaze flicks back to you and El, sharp, unimpressed. “Out.”
He gestures toward the door, not even pretending to be polite about it.
It’s not an offer.
It’s an order.
You let out a sharp scoff, already drawing breath to snap back at the blonde man—because who the hell does he think he is—but El is faster. Her hand wraps around your wrist, fingers tightening in warning, and at the same time Mario steps in, grabbing your shoulders and steering you back.
“Hey—” you start, but he’s already pushing you out.
The door shuts behind you with a dull thud.
You turn on him immediately.
“What the actual fuck, Mario?”
He exhales, dragging a hand over his face. “Not here.”
“Oh, not—” you scoff, ready to go off, but he’s already moving, heading down the hall like he expects you to follow.
You do. Of course you do.
El stays close, unusually quiet now, her earlier excitement completely gone. The hallway feels different on the way back—emptier, colder somehow. By the time you reach the main area, it’s almost unrecognizable. The crowd is gone, replaced by only a few people cleaning up like nothing ever happened. Trash is being swept, bottles collected, and in one corner, you catch a glimpse of a stack of cash being counted and shoved into a duffle bag.
That’s enough.
You don’t say anything as you follow Mario out, but the second the cold air hits your skin, it’s like everything snaps back into focus. You step forward quickly, grabbing his forearm and forcing him to stop.
“Speak,” you demand.
He looks at you—not angry, not defensive. Just… tired. Defeated, almost.
“Not here, please,” he says quietly. “Let’s just go back to my place.”
Your eyes narrow immediately. The way he glances around, quick and subtle, doesn’t help.
Alarms go off in your head.
You don’t agree, not really—but you don’t argue either. Not yet.
The car ride is silent. Tense. The kind of silence that presses in on you, heavy with everything that hasn’t been said. El sits beside you, staring out the window, unusually still, like she’s replaying everything in her head. You don’t interrupt. You’re doing the same.
By the time you reach Mario’s building, the quiet hasn’t lifted.
It follows you all the way into his apartment.
The door closes behind you, and just like that, the outside world is gone—but the tension stays, thick in the air, waiting.
Mario moves first, like he needs something to do with his hands. “Tea? Or—something?” he offers, already heading toward the kitchen.
Anything to stall.
You don’t answer right away. You just watch him, arms crossed, expression unmoving. Eventually, you nod once, more out of impatience than acceptance, and take a seat on the couch beside El. She sinks into it quietly, still not saying much, her usual energy replaced with something more withdrawn.
Mario brings the cups over a few minutes later, setting them down carefully in front of you both. You don’t thank him. You don’t even look at the tea.
You just look at him.
He takes the chair opposite you, exhaling slowly before running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think it would escalate like that.”
You cut him off immediately. “What did you think, Mario? That we’d just be okay watching that?” Your voice sharpens. “Did you genuinely think we’d enjoy an illegal fight?”
He blinks, caught off guard for a second. “How do you even know it’s illegal?”
You stare at him, almost incredulous. “Are you serious? Nothing about that place screams legal.”
He doesn’t argue.
So you keep going.
“I thought we were going to a club,” you say, your frustration spilling over now. “And then you change plans last minute, and suddenly we’re standing next to a cage, watching a guy get nearly beaten to death?”
The words hang heavy between you.
Mario exhales again, slower this time, and there’s something in his expression that finally cracks—guilt, maybe. Regret.
“I’m sorry,” he says, quieter now. “I really am. I just… I had to deal with something, and one of my friends was there. I thought it’d just be a fight. I thought you two might—” he hesitates, then shrugs weakly, “—I don’t know. Enjoy it. You like boxing, right?”
That lands badly.
Because whatever that was—wasn’t just boxing.
You lean back slightly, exhaling through your nose, but the tension doesn’t leave your body. If anything, it settles deeper.
“Why do you even hang around people like that?” you ask, your tone quieter now but no less pointed.
Mario winces a little at that, like he expected it. “I’m sorry,” he says again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really am. I won’t bring you there again. Hell, I probably won’t even go back myself. It was a stupid idea.”
You study him for a second, trying to decide if you believe that.
Then you sigh, some of the edge in you softening, just a little. “I didn’t feel safe there,” you admit. “And it’s a good thing nothing happened to us.”
Your fingers curl slightly around the warm cup, grounding yourself before you add, “What even is that place?”
Mario hesitates, like he’s choosing how honest to be. “It’s… yeah, it’s illegal,” he finally says. “But it’s one of the fastest ways to make money. People go there to bet. Not just that—they go because they like the fights. They want to see something real.”
You let out a quiet scoff. “We clearly have very different ideas of what a good fight is.”
He nods, accepting that. “Listen—it’s usually not like that. It gets stopped before it goes too far. Yeah, some guys don’t look great after, but tonight… tonight was intense. I didn’t know JK was gonna be the one fighting. Usually it’s more… controlled.”
You blink at him, stunned. “Oh my god. How many times have you been there?”
“Not that many,” he says quickly, holding up a hand. “Seriously. But I know it’s not usually like this. There had to be a change of plans when JK showed up. That’s why it was so packed. I should’ve known. I should’ve just left with you the second I realized.”
You shake your head slightly, still trying to process. “Who even is he?”
Mario shrugs. “Just a guy that got popular there. He fights well—really well—and people like watching him. That’s why it gets so crowded when he’s around.”
Your stomach turns at that. “People enjoy watching him beat someone nearly to death?”
“There’s a lot of money involved,” Mario replies, his tone quieter now. “And for some of those guys… it’s easier to earn money that way. One good fight can get you more than a regular job.”
You frown, not convinced. “I don’t get it. I mean, boxing isn’t a bad thing—but when it’s legal. What we saw? There’s a reason that’s not allowed.”
Mario exhales, leaning back in his chair. “The world’s a lot rougher than you think. That place—it’s just one of those corners where people make money however they can.”
You don’t respond to that. Not really.
Instead, you shift your focus, needing something else. “Did you at least deal with your friend? The one you said you had to meet?”
“Yeah,” he nods quickly. “Yeah, that’s done.” He pauses, then adds again, “And I’m sorry. Really. I won’t drag you into something like that again.”
You study him for a moment, then let out a small breath, deciding not to push it further. “Let’s just… hope we’ll laugh about this in twenty years.”
El makes a small sound beside you—half a scoff, half a sip of her tea—and you glance at her.
“Why are you so quiet?” you ask.
She shrugs, staring into her cup for a second before looking up. “I mean… yeah, it was weird. And I definitely wouldn’t go there alone.” She pauses, then adds, almost reluctantly, “But it was kind of interesting to see.”
You drop your head back slightly. “Oh my god.”
El rolls her eyes, but there’s a faint smile there now. “I’m not saying I want to go back. I don’t. I’d rather we stay far away from that place.” She nudges your arm lightly. “Next time, though? We’re going to an actual club. A good one. We finally convince you to go out, and this is where we end up?”
You huff out a laugh despite yourself, some of the tension finally easing. “Fine. You pick the next place, and I’ll consider going.”
“That’s a yes,” she says immediately.
“It’s a maybe,” you correct, but you’re smiling now.
The night winds down after that, the heaviness of it lingering but not as sharp. You stay over at Mario’s place like usual—nothing new there. You and El take the bed, while he crashes on the couch without complaint.
It should feel normal.
Familiar.
But as you lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, sleep doesn’t come easily.
Because every time you close your eyes, you see it again.
The ring. The blood. The crowd.
And him.
Those dark, steady eyes that barely looked at you—yet somehow linger anyway, slipping into your dreams as the night stretches on, replaying everything like a broken movie you can’t quite turn off.
Life moves on.
Or at least, it pretends to.
In the days after that night, everything slowly slips back into place. You fall into your usual routine—meeting El for junk food runs, sitting in dimly lit bars, catching up on the kind of small, meaningless things that make life feel normal again. Work, gossip, random complaints. The kind of conversations that don’t carry weight.
And for a while, neither does that night.
It starts to feel distant. Unreal, even. Like something you watched in a movie rather than something you actually stood in the middle of. You avoid that part of town completely, not even entertaining the idea of going near it. The building, the people, the noise—it all becomes something you push to the back of your mind.
Still, sometimes it creeps in.
A thought here and there. A question you don’t really want answered. How many people got hurt that night? How often does that happen?
You learn not to follow those thoughts too far.
The first week is the worst. Your dreams are restless, filled with flashes of the ring, the sound of fists hitting skin, the roar of the crowd. It’s like your brain is trying to process something it only ever expected to see on a screen, not up close, not real.
But after a couple of weeks, even that fades.
It becomes just a faint memory.
Something that happened.
Something you don’t talk about.
Life moves on. Or at least, it tries to.
In the days after that night, everything slowly slips back into place. You fall into your usual routine—meeting El for junk food runs, sitting in dimly lit bars, catching up on the kind of small, meaningless things that make life feel normal again. Work, gossip, random complaints. The kind of conversations that don’t carry weight.
And for a while, neither does that night.
It starts to feel distant. Unreal, even. Like something you watched in a movie rather than something you actually stood in the middle of. You avoid that part of town completely, not even entertaining the idea of going near it. The building, the people, the noise—it all becomes something you push to the back of your mind.
Still, sometimes it creeps in. A thought here and there. A question you don’t really want answered. How many people got hurt that night? How often does that happen?
You learn not to follow those thoughts too far.
The first week is the worst. Your dreams are restless, filled with flashes of the ring, the sound of fists hitting skin, the roar of the crowd. It’s like your brain is trying to process something it only ever expected to see on a screen, not up close, not real.
But after a couple of weeks, even that fades.
It becomes just a faint memory. Something that happened. Something you don’t talk about.
Lately, you’ve been seeing El more often. Mario’s been busy, which isn’t unusual. He’s always had something going on, mostly revolving around cars. Buying them, fixing them, flipping them. Old ones, newer ones—it doesn’t really matter. He calls it an investment, says the money always comes back if you know what you’re doing.
And apparently, he does.
Between the cars and whatever connections he’s built over time, he’s become the guy people call when something breaks. You’ve done it yourself. The last time your car had an issue, he fixed it in a day and saved you from dealing with overpriced repair shops and all their nonsense. He’s reliable like that.
Just not always honest.
Tonight, it’s just you and El at one of your usual bars, tucked into a booth that’s a little too worn but familiar enough to feel comfortable. You didn’t feel like drinking, so you’ve been sticking to soda while she’s had a couple of shots.
It reminds you of a phase you’ve already gone through—back when you were younger, figuring out your limits. These days, you don’t really care for it.
El, though, seems off.
At first, you assume it’s her ex. She spent way too long getting over him, and for a moment you wonder if she slipped back into that. But then she checks her phone again. And again. And again.
You watch her for a while before finally speaking up. “Okay, something’s up.”
She barely looks at you. “Nothing’s up.”
“You’ve checked your phone like ten times in five minutes.”
“I’m just waiting for a message.”
“From who?”
She shrugs too quickly. “No one important.”
You don’t buy it, but you don’t push right away. The feeling lingers, though, settling in your chest.
Something’s not right.
By the time the waitress tells you they’re closing, it’s already close to ten. You both gather your things and step outside, the cooler air a relief after the stuffy bar. You start telling her something about work—some pointless drama—but she barely reacts, her attention drifting back to her phone.
Then she checks it again.
You stop mid-sentence and look at her. “Okay, you have one minute. Tell me what’s going on, or I’m dropping you off and going home.”
She laughs nervously, scratching her cheek. “Don’t be mad.”
You roll your eyes. “Just say it.”
“I know where Mario is.”
You blink. “Okay? He’s probably working.”
She exhales, muttering, “He’s gonna kill me for this.”
“El.”
“Okay—he went back there.”
You frown. “Back where?”
Her voice lowers. “The ring.”
You stare at her, still trying to process it, the memory of that place snapping back into focus like it never really left.
“What do you mean, the ring?”
“He’s there. Right now.”
You let out a slow breath, disbelief settling in. Of course he is. After everything he said. After promising he wouldn’t go back.
“Unbelievable.”
El shifts slightly, her grip tightening around her phone. “The thing is… he was supposed to text me. And he hasn’t. It’s been, like, four hours.” She glances at the screen again, like it might suddenly light up. “He promised he would.”
You frown. “Wait—did you know he was going there?”
She hesitates, then nods, a little ashamed. “Yeah. He told me.” She quickly adds, “And he made me promise not to tell you.”
You scoff. “Of course he did. He didn’t want to hear my ‘smart remarks’ again. He probably thinks I’m his mom at this point, pestering him.”
“That’s not it,” El says, shaking her head. “He knows you worry about him. We both do. And honestly? You have a reason to.” She exhales, then continues, “I only agreed because he said he’d text me the whole time. Just so I’d know he’s okay.”
You cross your arms. “And?”
“The last message I got was around seven,” she says, her voice tightening. “He said he was going in.”
You glance at the time. It’s way past that now.
“What was he even doing there?” you ask.
El shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. He just said he had some business to take care of. That it’d be quick.” She lets out a quiet, uneasy breath. “Clearly it’s not.”
Silence settles between you for a moment, heavier this time.
“I don’t want to panic,” she adds, her voice quieter now, “but after what we saw there… the kind of people that were around…” She swallows. “I’m scared something happened to him.”
That lands.
Because yeah—Mario’s not small. He’s got height, some lean muscle, enough to handle himself in most situations.
But that place?
That’s not most situations.
He’s still your friend.
And something about all of this doesn’t sit right.
El looks at you, worry written all over her face. “What are we gonna do?”
You sigh, already knowing the answer.
“What else?” you mutter. “We have to go back and find him.”
Her expression tightens. “What if he’s not there?”
“Then we hope he made it there and someone saw him,” you reply, already turning and heading toward your car. “And we figure it out from there.”
You don’t give yourself time to second-guess it.
El hurries after you, sliding into the passenger seat as you start the engine. For a brief second, you just sit there, hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual.
You had hoped you’d never go back.
But just like that—that hope is gone.
You park a little further down the street, not wanting to pull up right in front like last time. The engine dies, and for a moment neither of you moves. The place hasn’t changed at all. The street still feels wrong—too quiet, too empty, like it’s been deliberately erased from everything around it. You glance at El, and she looks just as uneasy as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you mutter, pushing the door open.
You both walk toward the entrance, slower this time, more cautious. When you reach the door, El tries to push it open, but it doesn’t budge. Locked. She turns to you, brows knitting together. “What now?”
Before you can answer, the door creaks open from the inside. The same bouncer steps into view, and for a second you don’t recognize him. Then it clicks—the same sharp, heavy-lidded eyes, the same detached, almost stoned expression. It feels like no time has passed. His gaze drags over both of you, slow and deliberate, lingering a little too long on your bare legs, and you instantly regret dressing up for the bar tonight.
“You’re late,” he says, voice rough. “Let people in an hour ago.”
You don’t bother arguing. You reach into your purse, pull out a bill, and press it against his chest. He catches it easily, glancing down before tucking it away. A smirk pulls at his mouth. “Would’ve preferred you in my arms,” he mutters. You grimace, not even hiding your disgust this time, while El’s grip tightens around your hand as the door opens wider and you both slip inside.
The moment you step down the stairs, the noise hits—loud, heavy, suffocating. The smell follows right after. Sweat, weed, alcohol. It’s exactly how you remember it, maybe worse. The main area is completely packed, even more than last time, bodies pressed together so tightly it feels impossible to move. You barely even glance toward the ring. That’s not why you’re here.
“Room,” you remind El, leaning closer so she can hear you.
She nods quickly, already following your lead as you both start pushing through the crowd, weaving between people with purpose. You keep your focus forward, mentally retracing the path from last time. The stairs. The hallway. That door. That’s where you last saw Mario, and right now, that’s the only place that matters.
“El—this way,” you say, tugging her slightly as you manage to break away from the tightest part of the crowd and angle toward the stairs. There are still people gathered there, but it’s easier to move, easier to breathe. “We check the room first. If he’s not there, we’ll figure something else out.”
The microphone cuts in, sharp and loud, but you don’t stop. The announcer’s voice blends into the background as you keep moving, slipping past another group, already stepping toward the hallway. You’re close now, close enough that you can almost see the door in your mind.
“…and tonight,” the voice drawls.
You ignore it.
“First time in the ring—”
Still moving.
“—and bold enough to throw down a challenge—”
You’re already turning, already heading for the hallway.
“—challenging JK himself—”
The crowd reacts loudly, but it barely registers. You’re focused on getting there, on finding him before anything else can go wrong.
“And let’s hear it for—”
You don’t slow down.
“Maaaario.”
El stops so abruptly it almost throws you into her back, your steps catching at the last second as the name echoes through the space. For a moment it doesn’t register—not fully. It stretches out in the air, swallowed and amplified by the crowd’s reaction, like your brain refuses to connect it to anything real.
Then it hits.
Your body goes still as your mind catches up, the realization crashing in all at once. Around you, the crowd erupts, louder than before, excitement surging like this is exactly what they came for. El doesn’t move in front of you, her posture rigid, and your hand tightens slightly where you’re still holding onto her.
Neither of you says anything.
Because you both heard it.
And suddenly, finding Mario doesn’t feel like a question anymore.
It feels like a problem.
The countdown starts somewhere above the noise, the announcer stretching each number out like he’s feeding the crowd. It barely registers at first, your mind still stuck on the name you just heard, but then the final number hits and everything erupts at once. Before you can even think, the fight begins.
You and El move at the same time without saying a word. There’s no hesitation now, just urgency as you push into the crowd, forcing your way through bodies that don’t want to move. Shoulders slam into you, someone curses, another shoves you aside, but no one really stops you. They’re too focused on the ring, too caught up in the fight to care about anything else. The noise is overwhelming—yells, cheers, fists hitting metal—and it makes your chest tighten because you can’t see anything. Not knowing what’s happening somehow feels worse than seeing it.
El takes the lead, using her strength to pry a path open, her grip tight around your wrist as she drags you forward. You stumble after her, trying to keep up as she forces space where there isn’t any. It feels endless, like you’re stuck in a wall of bodies that won’t break, but eventually it does. You reach the ring, not close enough to touch it comfortably, but close enough to see.
And what you see makes your breath catch.
Mario is on the ground, one hand pressed to his face as blood spills from his nose. He looks disoriented, struggling to steady himself, and for a second it doesn’t even register as a fight. It looks like damage, like something that’s already gone too far. Your fingers slip through the fence without you thinking, gripping the cold metal as your eyes dart to his opponent.
JK is circling him.
Not rushing, not pressing—just waiting. There’s something unsettling about the way he moves, controlled and calm, like he already knows exactly how this ends. He lets Mario struggle, lets him try to get up, almost like he’s giving him space on purpose. Like he’s drawing it out.
Your stomach twists as you try to make sense of it. Can’t he just stop it? Can Mario tap out? Are there even rules here?
You don’t know.
“Oh my god,” El whispers beside you, her voice tight with fear.
“Come on,” you say under your breath, gripping the fence harder. “Get up. Get up.”
There’s no way he can hear you through the chaos, and yet somehow he moves. Mario pushes himself up, unsteady, barely holding his balance as he spits blood onto the ground. The sight makes your stomach churn, but he lifts his hands again, trying to reset, trying to fight.
He throws the first punch, driven more by instinct than skill. It’s messy, desperate, lacking control, but it’s something. JK avoids it easily, shifting just enough for it to miss. Another swing follows, then another, each one missing by inches as JK moves around him like it’s nothing. There’s no panic in him, no rush. Just patience.
Then he strikes.
It’s quick. Sharp. Clean.
The first hit snaps Mario’s head to the side, the second lands before he can recover, and the third sends him stumbling backward. JK doesn’t overextend, doesn’t waste movement—every punch is calculated, deliberate, landing exactly where it needs to. Mario tries to hold his ground, but it’s obvious now. He’s outmatched.
One more hit lands, harder than the rest, and it drops him.
You gasp, the sound tearing out of you before you can stop it as Mario hits the ground again. His face is already swelling, one eye starting to close, blood spreading across his skin in a way that makes your chest tighten painfully.
“Mario!” you shout, panic rising fast. “Get up!”
El is yelling too now, her voice breaking as she calls his name, the two of you pressed against the fence, desperate, urging him to move, to stay conscious, to do anything. The fear settles deep in your chest because what if he doesn’t get up this time? What if this doesn’t stop?
Mario shifts slightly, barely lifting his head, and then his gaze turns. Not toward JK, not toward the crowd—but toward you.
People cheer.
The sight of his face makes something in you twist. Swollen, bloodied, barely recognizable, and still he finds you in the chaos. Your breath hitches as you realize he sees you here.
JK notices.
It’s subtle at first, just a shift in his focus, the way his eyes narrow as he follows Mario’s line of sight. And then he looks at you. Really looks, his gaze locking onto yours in a way that feels too direct, too aware.
For a second, everything feels still.
Then he moves.
He crouches beside Mario, and your stomach drops as his hand shoots out, fingers tangling into Mario’s hair. The grip is tight, controlling, forcing his head up despite the lack of resistance. Mario barely reacts, his body too weak to fight back, and panic spikes in your chest.
JK doesn’t look away from you. His dark hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, his skin barely marked compared to Mario’s. Like this fight hasn’t cost him anything.
And then he smirks.
Your chest tightens as his grip tightens with it, lifting Mario’s head just enough—
Before slamming it back down against the ground.
The sound is sickening.
It cuts through everything.
Mario goes limp.
And for a second, you don’t breathe, don’t move, don’t think. You just stare, because something in you knows that whatever line there was before, it’s gone now.
The sound crashes back all at once, loud and overwhelming, like nothing just happened. Like what you just saw is entertainment, nothing more. JK steps back, the win clearly his, and the fence is already being opened for him as if it was expected. Of course it was. He walks out without a glance back, already moving on while the crowd feeds off the aftermath.
You don’t.
You can’t.
Two men enter the ring almost immediately, grabbing Mario under his arms and hauling him up. His body hangs between them, limp, unresponsive, his head lolling slightly with the movement. The sight knocks the air out of your lungs.
You force yourself to move.
Your throat tightens as you swallow hard, shaking yourself out of the daze as you grab El’s arm. “Come on,” you manage, your voice barely steady, your eyes locked on Mario as they carry him away.
You follow them.
They move fast, cutting through a path that clears easier for them than it ever did for you. When you and El catch up, one of the men glances back, clearly annoyed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. El’s panicked whispers don’t help.
“Oh my god… Mario, we’re here. You’re gonna be okay—”
“Hey,” one of the men snaps. “You can’t—”
“He’s our friend,” you cut in quickly, your voice sharper than you expect. “We’re staying. Where are you taking him?”
They don’t look like they want to deal with you. Not now. Not with this. The two of them exchange a look, something silent passing between them before one sighs, clearly deciding it’s not worth the argument.
“He’s getting treated,” he says shortly, already turning away.
You don’t ask by whom. You just follow.
The hallway feels tighter this time, the noise from the main area fading behind you as they lead you into one of the rooms. It’s smaller than you expected, cramped and worn, with dented lockers lining one wall and a narrow bed in the center that looks like it once belonged in a hospital.
They set Mario down without much care. His body barely reacts, his head rolling slightly to the side, and something in your chest twists painfully at how still he is.
You and El move immediately, stopping just short of touching him, both of you hovering, afraid of making it worse.
The door opens again.
A young man steps in, probably in his early twenties, maybe a bit older, his build lean but steady. He’s dressed simply—dark shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows—and there’s a certain efficiency in the way he moves, like he’s done this too many times to think about it. His hair is slightly messy, falling into his eyes as he pulls on a pair of gloves, his expression focused rather than concerned.
“What do we have this time?” he asks, glancing over Mario with quick, practiced eyes.
“Probably a broken nose. Maybe more,” one of the men replies.
The young man exhales quietly, stepping closer to the bed as he tilts Mario’s head slightly, inspecting the damage without hesitation. “Yeah,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Another one who thought he could last longer than he actually could.”
Mario gets treated like you and El aren’t even there.
The young man moves around him with quiet efficiency, cleaning the blood, checking his nose, pressing gauze where it’s needed. The two men who carried him in linger for a moment before stepping aside, talking in low voices, completely unfazed. It’s like this is routine. Like people getting carried in half-conscious isn’t anything out of the ordinary.
You can’t stand still.
You start pacing the small room, your steps short and sharp, your arms crossed tight over your chest as your thoughts spiral. No matter how hard you try to focus on Mario, your mind keeps dragging you back to the ring—to that moment. The way JK looked at you. The way he made sure you saw it. That last hit.
The way Mario just… stopped.
Your jaw tightens.
Even when Mario lets out a low groan, shifting slightly on the bed, it doesn’t pull you out of it. El is at his side immediately, her voice soft but urgent as she leans closer. “Mario? Hey—can you hear me?” He mumbles something incoherent, his words slurred, barely forming, and El glances up, worry etched all over her face. “Doesn’t he need a hospital?”
The young man doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. “If he goes to a hospital, questions get asked,” he says flatly. “Police get involved.”
“Maybe they should,” you cut in sharply, stopping your pacing to look at him. “Maybe that would finally shut this place down.”
That gets his attention.
He shoots you a look, sharp and unimpressed. “Hate to break it to you,” he says, tone edged with something colder now, “but your friend would be the one in trouble. This is illegal. He signed up for it.”
You don’t care.
You don’t care what he says, what excuses they have, what twisted logic they follow in this place.
Your anger is already too far gone.
“Where is he?” you ask suddenly.
The room stills for a second.
“Who?” one of the men asks.
You look at him like it should be obvious. “JK.”
They exchange a glance, something unreadable passing between them. “Why?” the other one mutters.
You don’t answer that.
You just look at El. “Stay here. Keep an eye on him.”
She blinks at you, clearly trying to figure out what you’re about to do. “Wait—”
But you’re already moving.
You leave before she can stop you, before anyone can question you further, your steps quick and determined as you head back down the hall. You don’t even know if he’s still there, if he went back to that room or somewhere else entirely, but you don’t stop to think about it.
You’re too angry to think.
You reach the door and push it open hard.
Empty.
The room looks exactly the same as before—the couch, the chair, the faint trace of something cleaner in the air compared to the rest of the place—but he’s not there. You step further in, scanning it anyway, like he might suddenly appear.
“Where the hell—”
The door opens behind you.
You turn immediately.
JK stands there.
He doesn’t look surprised to see someone in the room. If anything, he looks mildly annoyed, like you’re an inconvenience he didn’t feel like dealing with tonight. His hair is wet, strands sticking to his forehead, steam still curling faintly from the doorway behind him—bathroom, you realize. He’s changed, now wearing a pair of dark cotton shorts, a towel in his hands that he uses once before tossing it aside onto the couch like it doesn’t matter.
Like nothing matters.
He doesn’t even acknowledge you.
That’s what sets you off.
Before you can think, you’re already moving toward him, anger taking over completely as you shove both hands against his chest. The contact is solid—his skin still warm from the shower, heat lingering under your palms, his muscles hard and unyielding beneath your push. It’s like trying to move a wall.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snap, your voice sharp with fury. “You could’ve killed him!”
He barely moves.
Not even a step back.
Just stands there, looking down at you as if you’re something mildly irritating, one brow lifting slightly as your hair falls out of place from the force of your movement.
“You done?” he asks.
The words hit harder than they should.
You freeze for half a second, caught off guard—not just by how close he is, not just by hearing his voice directed at you for the first time, but by how little he seems to care.
“Not entirely,” you snap back, your anger flaring again as you move to shove him once more.
This time, he catches your wrist.
Effortlessly.
His grip is firm, stopping you mid-motion like it’s nothing, like you weren’t even a challenge to begin with.
“You’re a piece of shit,” you tell him, your voice tight.
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, slow and unimpressed. “And yet,” he replies coolly, tilting his head slightly as his grip doesn’t loosen, “your friend stepped into the ring with me anyway.”
“Let me go,” you snap, yanking against him.
For a second, he just watches you, completely unimpressed, like this is nothing new to him.
Then he lets go.
Abruptly.
You stumble back a step as he pushes you away, not rough enough to hurt, but enough to put distance between you, like he’s brushing something off.
“Careful,” he says, voice low, almost amused, “you’re gonna hurt yourself before you even get close to hurting me.”
The arrogance in his tone only makes your blood boil more.
“You’re an arrogant prick,” you snap without hesitation, your voice sharp enough to cut through whatever calm he’s pretending to have. “Do you feel good about it? Almost killing people for a bunch of money?”
Something shifts.
It’s subtle, but it’s there. The smirk fades just enough, his eyes darkening as he looks at you, really looks this time.
“Out,” he says.
You don’t move.
You don’t even consider it.
“You’re in no position to tell me what to do,” you fire back immediately. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t explain. Doesn’t justify himself.
That only makes it worse.
You step closer again, closing the distance, your finger lifting as you point it toward his chest. “You don’t get to act like this is normal. Like you’re not the problem here.”
His hand moves before you can react.
Fast.
Your wrist is caught again, but this time there’s no patience behind it. No casual ease. Just control.
“You’re pushing it,” he says, voice low, edged with warning.
“Good,” you snap, trying to yank your hand free. “Maybe someone should—”
He doesn’t let you finish.
In one swift movement, he turns you, your back hitting the wall with a dull thud before you can process what just happened. Your breath catches as he pins your arms behind you, one hand locking both of your wrists in place, the other braced near your shoulder, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
The shift is instant.
You’re not in control anymore.
Your heart jumps, adrenaline spiking as you struggle against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s stronger, faster, and far too used to this kind of contact.
He leans in slightly, just enough for you to feel the heat still radiating off his skin.
“You talk a lot,” he mutters, his grip tightening just enough to keep you from trying anything else, “for someone who has no idea what she just walked into.”
His hand still holds your wrists behind your back, and now his other arm shifts slightly, boxing you in. The heat from his body hasn’t faded yet, his skin still warm under the dim light, his breath just brushing near your ear without quite touching.
Your pulse spikes despite yourself.
“Yeah?” you manage, your voice tighter than you’d like. “What did I walk into?”
There’s a beat.
Short.
Deliberate.
Then—
“A place you don’t belong,” he says quietly, voice low and steady, right by your ear.
No hesitation. No explanation.
Just fact.
His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you he’s still in control.
“And a fight you can’t win.”
He lets go of you.
The shift is sudden enough that you almost stumble forward before catching yourself. You turn on him immediately, your chest rising and falling too fast, your pulse still racing from the proximity, from the grip, from everything. For a second, you just stare at him, trying to steady yourself, trying to hold onto the anger that brought you here in the first place.
“Leave,” he says.
Just like that. Flat. Dismissive.
You blink at him, still catching your breath. You don’t even know what you expected coming here—an apology, a reaction, something—but all you got was this. Him. Unbothered. Untouched. Like what happened in that ring meant nothing.
You open your mouth, but before you can say anything—
The door swings open.
A blonde woman steps in, her energy shifting the moment she notices you. The grin she walked in with disappears almost instantly, her eyes flicking between you and him, lingering a second too long on the fact that he’s still shirtless.
The air changes.
“Who’s this?” she asks, her tone edged, curious but already leaning toward annoyed.
Jungkook doesn’t rush to answer. He doesn’t even look at her right away. Instead, he grabs an oversized shirt, pulling it over his head like this conversation doesn’t concern him in the slightest.
“She’s leaving,” he says, like that’s enough.
You let out a sharp scoff. “The hell I am.”
That gets a reaction.
Not from her.
From him.
It’s subtle—just the corner of his mouth pulling into something that almost resembles a grin, like he finds you more entertaining than anything else. It’s not warm. Not kind.
Provocative.
The blonde woman shifts her weight, clearly irritated now, her gaze narrowing slightly as she looks at you again. “I think you heard him.”
You don’t move.
Not an inch.
“I heard him,” you reply coolly. “I just don’t care.”
Her annoyance sharpens, visible now, but Jungkook doesn’t step in. Doesn’t correct you. Doesn’t repeat himself. If anything, he looks more interested now, watching the tension build like it’s something worth his time.
The woman steps further into the room, and now that you actually look at her, it’s obvious. The red dress clings to her body, cut far too short to be anything but intentional, the fabric hugging her curves like she walked in here knowing exactly what she came for.
Not the fight.
Him.
You almost snort at the realization.
She barely spares you another glance before her attention shifts fully to Jungkook, like you’ve already been dismissed. “You were incredible tonight,” she says, her tone smoothing out into something softer, almost impressed. “I was here. Watched the whole thing.”
Jungkook doesn’t react the way she expects.
He doesn’t even look at her.
“Good,” he says simply, already reaching for a bag that looks like his, slinging it over his shoulder like the conversation means nothing.
The woman doesn’t seem discouraged.
If anything, she leans into it.
She steps closer, her movements slow, deliberate, like she’s used to getting attention this way. And maybe she is. But this time, there’s something else in it too—something sharper. When she shifts closer to him, her gaze flicks to you for just a second.
Oh.
There it is.
She sees you as a problem.
A threat.
The realization makes something in you click—and instead of being bothered, you grin.
Actually grin.
You shake your head lightly, almost amused now as you look between them.
Her hand brushes lightly against his arm, her voice dropping as she says something under her breath, something meant just for him.
JK finally looks at her.
Not interested. Not even tempted.
“Not tonight,” he says flatly, pulling his arm away without hesitation. There’s no softness in it, no apology. Just a quiet finality that lands harder than anything else.
It’s enough.
Her expression tightens, the confidence slipping just slightly as she straightens, clearly not satisfied with the answer. For a second, it looks like she might push it, but she doesn’t. Instead, she exhales sharply, shooting you one last look before turning on her heel and walking out.
The door closes behind her.
Silence settles for a beat.
Then his attention shifts.
Back to you.
And this time, there’s no amusement left in it.
Just irritation.
“You’re still here,” he says, like it’s a problem that hasn’t fixed itself yet.
You let out a sharp breath, disbelief mixing with the anger that never really left.
“I can’t believe you,” you say, your voice tight, almost shaking. “You just walk out of there like it’s nothing. Like it didn’t even happen.”
He doesn’t respond.
That only makes it worse.
“Mario is in there,” you continue, stepping closer again, your frustration building all over again. “Barely conscious, coming in and out of it—and you’re just… here. Moving on. Like this is normal.”
Your eyes flick briefly to the door, then back to him.
“And what, now it’s back to this?” you add, your tone sharper. “Girls lining up because you won? Like that’s all this is to you?”
His expression barely shifts.
If anything, it hardens.
He doesn’t react the way you expect.
No apology. No defense.
Instead, he reaches into his bag, pulls out a thick fold of cash, and before you can even register it, he grabs your hand and forces it open, pressing the money into your palm.
“Enough?” he asks, tone flat. “Or you gonna keep talking?”
You stare down at it for half a second, disbelief hitting first, then anger flooding right after.
You’re about to throw it straight back at him—
But he speaks again.
“Give it to him,” he adds, nodding slightly toward the door. “Call it… a consolation prize.”
There’s a pause, just enough for it to land.
Then, quieter, with that same careless edge, “For getting dropped that fast.”
Your fingers tighten around the money without you meaning to, your jaw clenching as the insult settles heavy in the air.
Before you can react—
He moves.
It’s quick. Too quick.
His hand comes up, and his thumb brushes over the corner of your lips, slow enough to feel deliberate, wiping at something you didn’t even realize was there. The touch is brief, but it lands heavier than it should, heat lingering where his skin just was.
You freeze.
Not because you want to.
Because you didn’t expect it.
He pulls his hand back, glancing at his thumb like he’s checking the faint smear of red before letting out a quiet, almost amused breath.
“Fix yourself,” he says, voice low, edged with something mocking. “Wouldn’t want you going back to your guy looking like that.”
His eyes flick back up to yours, that same faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Lipstick’s smudged, Red.”
And just like that, he’s done. He grabs his bag, throws it over his shoulder, and walks past you without another glance, like the conversation never mattered to him in the first place, like you never mattered enough to leave an impression. The bag shifts as he moves, heavy, the faint rustle unmistakable—you don’t even need to look twice to know it’s stuffed with cash. Easy money. Hard-earned in all the wrong ways. He carries it like it’s nothing.
The door shuts behind him with a quiet click, and the shift is immediate—the room falling into a stillness that feels almost unnatural after everything that just happened.
The silence presses in, heavy and unfamiliar. The faint trace of his cologne lingers in the air—something sharp, clean, expensive—cutting through the stale mix of sweat and smoke that clings to everything else in this place. It doesn’t belong here. It doesn’t fit the cracked walls, the worn furniture, the quiet evidence of violence that lingers in every corner. And somehow, neither does he, even though he clearly owns it.
You don’t move right away. Your hand is still loosely curled around the cash he forced into your palm, your other lifting without you realizing it, fingers hovering near your lips where his thumb had brushed just moments ago. The sensation is gone, but not really. It lingers in your head, in the way your body reacts before your mind can catch up, and that alone is enough to make your jaw tighten.
Your heartbeat hasn’t slowed. If anything, it’s worse now—faster than it was before you even walked in here, louder in your ears, harder to ignore. You swallow, forcing your hand to drop, grounding yourself, dragging your focus back to something real. Back to why you came here in the first place.
Because whatever that was, whatever just passed between you and him, it doesn’t matter.
Mario is still down the hall, hurt, barely conscious, and this place hasn’t changed just because you stepped into one room and out of another. It’s still exactly what you thought it was—a place where violence is entertainment, where people walk in and don’t always walk out the same, and where no one stops to care what happens once the fight is over.
a/n: okay so this happened in the last 24 hours, don't ask me how I still can't believe this story happened lmaooo but I have had so many story ideas in my head and I genuinely missed writing, just something for fun, something fresh. I also wanted to do boxer jk for the longest time!! hope you guys enjoyed the surprise and I can't see what you think of this ♡
Summary: There are two boys but only one girl, leaving Jungkook hopelessly in love with someone he can never have, and doesn't want to have, because that would mean taking you away from the person he loves most. Then suddenly there’s only one boy and one girl, but it's the wrong one.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Jungkook’s Twin x Reader, (Slight) Jungkook x Jennie
Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. I’M SERIOUS. major character death, intense grief, depression, suicidal ideation, vehicular accident, dead body, injuries, medical jargon, self-harm (not by definition — he gives himself a cut for appearances), hospital, nurses, doctors, fear, anxiety, panic attack, crying, funeral, mention of burial, planning funeral arrangements, mention of morgue, funeral home, casket, headstone, obituary, unrequited love, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drinking, bars, business jargon, mentions of wealth, jealousy, secrets, wedding, high school and college, exams, work, public speaking, insecurity, lying, manipulating, betrayal, violation, misogyny 😔, twins, trading places, tricking people, drunkenness, rudeness, depressive inner monologue, yearning, dub-con (I’m not sure if this counts — she consents to the acts but is unaware of his real identity), kissing, touching, titty fondling, cuddling, and that’s all!
Author's Note: guys I don’t know what demon possessed me when I wrote this but I worry I might be a sadist. this shit is SO sad and so dark. I really caution you to read all the warnings if there are topics which can easily trigger you. you might need therapy after this one, lord knows Jungkook needs some. and a lot of it!! he does not make good decisions in this fic and I don’t condone any of his actions. he’s the definition of morally ambiguous so hopefully you all vibe with that. also I know nothing about science or physics so if there are any inaccuracies, mind ya business lmao. I personally love this story despite it being so heavy, because it’s got so much heart, and I hope you all will too. ILY :)
-> The Wife Trap Masterpost
Jungkook and Jaehyun trade places often, which is coincidentally how Jungkook ends up meeting you for the first time.
Junior year of high school’s been a slog so far. Between his parents pressuring him to keep his grades up so he’ll be accepted to a nice university and assimilating with the teenage social scene, he’s mentally drained. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to further his education or hang out with his peers, but he’s got plenty of other interests besides those two.
He wants to draw and paint more, listen to new music, or even practice photography. None of which can happen if he’s stuck in his room studying all night.
Hence the main reason he and his identical twin brother sometimes pull switcheroos on their teachers and classmates.
This time around it’s because Jungkook has a chemistry exam tomorrow worth a quarter of his grade. While he personally excels at the liberal arts, STEM classes are a whole different story. Jaehyun, on the other hand, can’t recall historical facts to save his life, but doesn’t even flinch at balancing atoms.
Knowing this, Jungkook politely knocks on his brother’s door just before sundown. Jaehyun immediately grants him entry and after peeking his head inside, Jungkook finds Jaehyun sitting at his desk with a notebook and his laptop laid out before him.
“Hey,” Jaehyun greets him while setting his pen down.
“I need a favor,” Jungkook matter-of-factly declares as he flops onto his brother’s bed.
Jaehyun chuckles at his twin’s familiar antics before spinning around to face him.
“Like what?”
“Chemistry exam. Twenty-five percent of my grade. I’ll do your chores for a week.”
There’s no need for further explanation because the two boys understand each other without words. Jungkook probably could’ve just held up a chemistry book and waited for Jaehyun to give him a thumbs up or down to achieve the same result.
Jaehyun purses his lips and leans back in his desk chair to ponder the quid pro quo, but it’s pretty rare for either of them to deny one another. He’s more likely debating on whether or not it’s a fair deal.
“No need for chores. I have a better idea,” Jaehyun poses.
“Oh? Pray tell.”
Jaehyun chuckles and to Jungkook’s surprise, a blush appears on his brother’s cheeks.
“So, there’s this girl…”
“No shit!”
Jungkook shoots up from the bed with a boisterous, eager laugh while his twin throws his hands up to stop him from overreacting.
“Aish, it’s not like that.” Despite Jaehyun’s protests, Jungkook remains on his feet to await more details. “She’s just, like, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and we talk all the time because we’re lab partners, but I have no idea if she likes me back.”
“And?” Jungkook excitedly elongates the syllable. “What do you want me to do?”
“Well, if we swap places tomorrow, maybe you could give me an unbiased opinion. You know, see how she acts with you and report back whether or not you think she feels the same.”
Jungkook’s eyes light up at the notion of being an undercover wingman. Plus, he gets what he wants without having to do twice the housework for a week.
“Oh, you’re on.”
Jaehyun can’t resist affectionately rolling his eyes at his brother’s enthusiasm.
It only makes sense considering Jaehyun’s always chosen school over any sort of love life. To be fair, Jungkook hasn’t had much luck with the ladies himself, but at least he tries instead of keeping his nose in the books.
All Jungkook wants is for Jaehyun to find someone who’ll love him just as much as he does. Despite only being eleven minutes younger, Jungkook looks up to his twin more than anyone else in the world. He knows the sentiment is shared; that Jaehyun wholeheartedly admires all the traits Jungkook possesses which he himself does not. Nevertheless, Jungkook views Jaehyun as his better half and if he can lead someone else towards the same belief, he will.
“Just grab some clothes for me and lay them on the bed, will you? I’ll do the same once I’m done with this,” Jaehyun requests as Jungkook strolls out of the room.
“Got it!”
The following morning, Jungkook spends a couple extra minutes styling his hair away from his forehead to appear more like his twin. Jaehyun does the same, only the opposite, by applying some gel so his bangs fall down nicely at his browbone.
When the two meet outside their respective bedrooms, they both chuckle at the uncanny resemblance to the other’s signature style. Although Jungkook does tsk at his brother upon surveying his outfit.
“Nuh uh.” He faces Jaehyun to fix the collar of his leather jacket, popping it up how he normally wears it. “There we go.”
Jaehyun rolls his eyes.
“Well, if we’re being picky.” To return the favor, Jaehyun undoes the top two buttons of Jungkook’s polo so it looks more casual. “I may be a nerd, but I’m not that bad.”
“If you say so,” Jungkook teases, prompting Jaehyun to nudge his shoulder while the former giggles.
They head downstairs together and follow their usual routine of grabbing their book bags and wishing their folks farewell. Neither of their parents register the switch as the four of them circle each other in the kitchen before scurrying off in separate directions to leave for work and school.
Their mom, who works from home as an interior designer, catches Jaehyun’s attention at the last second with a call of his name.
“Jae, sweetie, you have an appointment this afternoon. Remember?”
Jaehyun peers around the corner with a doting grin.
“I know, mom. Thank you.”
The only issue is Jaehyun doesn’t look like himself, and when she notices his appearance, she blanches.
“What — huh?”
“Bye!”
Jungkook smacks his twin’s chest once he returns to his side; a hint of a laugh still on his lips.
“You doofus. You’re gonna give the poor woman a heart attack.”
“I forgot, I forgot,” Jaehyun defends himself.
Once they make it to Jaehyun’s car, which is the vehicle they’re driving this month because they always switch off for fairnesses sake, Jungkook hops in the driver’s side to maintain their ruse.
A Jeep is Jungkook’s choice of ride and the car he was gifted by his parents for their sixteenth birthday, whereas Jaehyun drives a Mercedes given to him for the same occasion. Even though Jungkook enjoys being high off the road when he drives, he certainly doesn’t mind cruising around in his twin’s sleek sports car every so often.
Their family is more than well-off, on behalf of their dad being the founder and CEO of a fortune five hundred company in the center of Seoul. Jungkook has no interest in joining the conglomerate after college, whereas Jaehyun’s already preparing to be their father’s successor.
Thankfully, their dad doesn’t mind that Jungkook wants something different for himself and neither of their parents ever push them towards a certain career path. As long as they both receive a good education and find jobs to keep themselves off the street, they’re satisfied.
“So, what’s your girl’s name?”
“She’s not my girl,” Jaehyun corrects him, although there’s a pink hue splattered all over his cheeks. “But her name’s Y/N.”
“Cute,” Jungkook notes with a smirk.
“You have no idea.”
Jaehyun’s right, per usual, because when Jungkook steps foot in the biology classroom later that day and spots a girl sitting precisely where his brother said she would be, his eyes blow wide and he clenches his jaw to prevent his mouth from dropping open.
You aren’t just cute. No, cute is how he would describe Jiwoo from second period or Yoona on the cheerleading squad. You’re goddamn ethereal.
Your hair is falling down your back in pretty waves, although the front pieces are tucked behind your ear. Your pink, plump lips are wrapped around the end of your pencil as you focus on whatever you’re reading. You’re wearing an oversized sweater and loose-fitting jeans which, despite seemingly being for comfort, make you look like a model straight out of a magazine.
Jungkook and Jaehyun have never shared the same taste in women. It’s just another topic they happen to fall on opposite sides of the spectrum about. So him finding you so attractive is completely unexpected. Yet here he is, paralyzed in the doorway like he’s never seen a woman before in his life.
He manages to snap out of the trance quickly, but not before a couple classmates shoot him confused glances from across the room. After maneuvering around the labyrinth of chairs and backpacks between him and Jaehyun’s desk, he slugs his bag off his shoulder and sits down beside you.
You don’t look up, which is to be expected when this is an ordinary occurrence for you. Plus, you’re busy scribbling in your notebook after finishing the page you were reading. Once you’re done, you place your pencil down and blow air out of your mouth before shaking your hair loose from behind your ear and flicking the short pieces aside.
“You must be Jungkook,” you nonchalantly profess.
Jungkook’s brow scrunches.
“Sorry?”
A smile graces your lips as you finally look in his direction.
“Jaehyun doesn’t have a scar on his cheek.”
When you gesture to the small mark on Jungkook’s left cheekbone, he lifts his own hand to trace the indentation. No one’s ever been able to distinguish them by that before, not even their parents. Even though Jungkook’s had the scar since first grade after he and Jaehyun fought over who got to use the computer first.
“There’s no way you noticed something so small that fast,” Jungkook accuses.
You shrug following a short, prideful giggle.
“Maybe I’m just a genius.”
Or you have a big fat crush on my brother.
“You must be Y/N, then.”
It’s your turn in the hot seat and you face Jungkook directly so you can interrogate him.
“And how do you know that?”
Jungkook mirrors how you shrugged your shoulders a moment ago.
“Because Jae told me his lab partner’s super smart and the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Obviously you’re smart if you clocked our scheme so fast and… well.”
He gestures to you with both hands, causing a bright pink blush to overtake your cheeks.
“He really said that?” You ask in a higher pitch with a massive smile on your face.
“Does that surprise you?”
“Not… exactly. It’s just that Jae’s so smart and sweet. Not to mention considerate, funny, stupidly handsome —”
“You think I’m handsome?”
“That’s not what I…”
Your voice trails off when you look over to find a shit-eating grin staring back.
“Gotcha,” he cheers while pointing to his head. “Same face.”
As you roll your eyes and chuckle, Jungkook swears his heart starts pounding faster inside his ribcage. He would do anything to make you do it again; hear you laugh at his jokes or pretend to be annoyed when he teases you.
“Anyway,” you redirect the conversation. “What’s with the switcheroo?”
“I have a chem exam today and Jaehyun got the brain cell in the divorce.”
You cackle so loud you have to cover your mouth with your hand to avoid getting in trouble with the teacher. Meanwhile, the pride Jungkook feels for prompting such a reaction almost makes him burst right out of his skin.
Despite your best efforts, the teacher shoots you both a warning glare before beginning his lecture. You and Jungkook attempt to quiet your laughter and focus, but there are still some residual giggles by the time your teacher starts.
After about twenty minutes, the teacher releases everyone to continue working on your current research project, but since your actual partner is somewhere across the school, you and Jungkook just chit chat until the end of class.
“So, considering how highly you spoke about my brother, I imagine you like him back?”
His words must pique your interest because you stop writing in your planner and glance up with cartoonishly wide eyes.
“Back?” You parrot. “As in…”
“Oh, yeah. Jae’s down bad.”
Your blush from earlier returns with a vengeance and you even cover your mouth with your sweater cuffs to hide the broad smile you’re sporting.
It gives Jungkook goddamn cuteness aggression and he has to refrain from kicking his feet underneath the desk.
This situation is uniquely strange for Jungkook. Because on one hand, there’s nothing more important to him than Jaehyun’s happiness, and you’re both clearly smitten. Yet in the opposing corner lies his heart that’s suddenly beating to a new rhythm; one that sounds suspiciously similar to the syllables of your name.
He can’t deny how badly he wants you for himself, but he would never make a move unless Jaehyun told him it was alright. If he can’t have you, he supposes the next best thing is for his brother to be the one who does.
“I had my suspicions, but I just… I didn’t wanna get my hopes up. You know?”
Your cheeks are still a dull pink and you have lovesick stars in your eyes as you talk about your crush.
“I get it,” Jungkook replies. “But you don’t have anything to worry about. You two are on the same page.”
“Is he planning on asking me out?”
“He better be. If he doesn’t, I will.” His sudden candor causes your eyes to widen again until Jungkook raises his hands in surrender. “I’m kidding.”
I’m not.
You sigh in relief upon hearing his rebuttal and Jungkook refuses to admit how much his heart shatters.
“Well, if he asks, you’re more than welcome to assure him I’ll say yes,” you state.
Jungkook genuinely smiles at that.
The thought of Jaehyun finding someone who makes him happy and will keep him laughing is enough to soothe any ache Jungkook may feel because of you.
“Duly noted.”
“So, Jungkook —”
“Kook,” he corrects you.
“Huh?”
The man in question chuckles.
“Everyone calls me Kook.”
You tilt your head like that’s a foreign concept before disagreeably clicking your tongue.
“That just won’t do. I don’t wanna call you what everyone else does. I should get a special nickname,” you explain.
“You don’t say?”
The two of you share another laugh while you tap your pencil against your notebook in thought.
“What about Kookie?”
“Kookie?” Jungkook shakes his head, but it’s mostly to hide the smile and accompanying blush creeping in. “What am I? Willy Wonka?”
“Oh, c’mon. It’s cute!”
It is cute, and therein lies the problem.
Nevertheless, Jungkook purses his lips as he ponders a fitting response.
“Fine, but I want one for you.” You shrug and show him your palms as though to yield the nicknaming power. “How about…” After aimlessly gazing around the room, Jungkook’s eyes soon land on a doodle in your planner of a sweet treat that feels just right. “What about Cupcake?”
“Cupcake?”
“Mmhm. Cupcake,” he repeats while motioning at you before doing the same for himself. “And Kookie.”
You giggle at his suggestion, but nod your head in agreement a moment later.
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Kookie.”
With a charming smile, Jungkook extends his hand towards you.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Cupcake.”
When you two melodramatically shake on it, Jungkook doesn’t think about the long term consequences. He has no idea how this single conversation will alter the course of his life forever.
Because Jaehyun does ask you out about a week later, forcing Jungkook to witness you two fall in love and remain utterly devoted to each other for years to come.
Including standing beside his parents when Jaehyun proposes at your college graduation. You’re a year younger than them, so his twin’s had time to save for a beautiful diamond ring using the paycheck he receives from their father’s company.
You obviously accept, but not before screaming your head off and nearly tackling your poor boyfriend, now fiancé, to the ground. Jaehyun catches you by the waist before you’re able to take him down and Jungkook doesn’t believe he’s ever seen his brother so happy as he spins you around a couple times before kissing you senseless.
“I love you,” Jaehyun whispers once your lips part while your foreheads remain pressed together.
Despite it being the thousandth time you’ve heard the proclamation, you still beam brighter than the sun.
“I love you, Jeon Jaehyun.”
“Enough to marry me, huh?”
An infectious giggle fills the air between your faces and makes Jungkook’s heart constrict where it lies dormant in his chest. He even instinctively looks away when you clamp Jaehyun’s head between your hands to emphasize your response.
“Enough to marry the shit out of you!”
It sucks because it’s not like Jungkook isn’t happy for you two. Quite the contrary. He couldn't be more ecstatic about his favorite people finding their dream come true. But he also can’t help the debilitating, insistent ache he feels inside.
He never meant to fall in love with you and for a while after you met he hoped his feelings would fade into oblivion. Months went by, then years, but rather than disappearing, his devotion to you only grew stronger until it became a part of his very soul. Something so innate he believes it must transcend this world and bleed into the next. His love for Jaehyun is the same; just as deep and even more integral to his being.
Which is why it doesn’t matter how much he adores you. You and Jaehyun are perfect for each other, and more importantly, you make one another irrevocably happy. Jungkook would sooner die before he took any part in destroying that.
He doesn’t want you for himself despite his feelings, but that doesn’t make reality any less painful.
His attention is yanked from the reverie by his brother’s joyous holler and he refocuses on the present just in time for Jaehyun to throw his arms around him.
“Fucking nailed it,” Jaehyun cheers while giving Jungkook an excited, brotherly pat on his shoulder.
“‘Course, you did.” Jungkook returns the affection by resting his chin on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Congratulations, bro. I’m glad you didn’t choke.”
Jaehyun scoffs and steps back to reclaim your hand.
“I never choke,” he argues.
“Um, there was the time you were so nervous about asking me to prom you put the jumbo letters in the wrong order,” you counter. “But I had a wonderful time at ‘rpom’ with you, baby.”
Your fiancé rolls his eyes at the memory, but there’s a huge grin on his face when he bends down to kiss your cheek.
“Congratulations to you, too, Cupcake,” Jungkook interjects. “You scored yourself the second best looking, second funniest, and second most lovable man around.”
“Gosh, I wonder who could possibly be the first?”
Jungkook sarcastically shrugs with his hands up, but your sweet laugh shatters the act when you lean in to hug him with your free arm.
“Seriously, though, I couldn’t be happier for you.”
“Thanks, Kookie.” After unwrapping yourself from the embrace, you rest your weight on Jaehyun next to you and he naturally wraps his other arm around your waist. “So, should I start calling you big brother now or…”
The aggressive grimace that contorts Jungkook’s face causes both you and Jaehyun to relentlessly cackle.
“Fuck, no. Never. I beg you.”
Despite genuinely feeling like he might throw up at the thought of you ever referring to him as that, he joins in the laughter once his expression of disgust fades.
You and Jaehyun wait almost a full three years to wed so you’re both at least twenty five. Meaning it’s been just over a decade since you first started dating; longer than some marriages even last.
The years following your engagement have been easier for Jungkook to stomach compared to when you were all in school. You two live together now just a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment and the three of you hang out fairly often.
One would think it would make the situation worse, but spending more time with you as a couple actually lessens the weight. It gives him a chance to witness the people he cares about most at their happiest, and even though he still yearns for you in ways he shouldn’t, seeing you smile or hearing you laugh is enough.
On the morning of your wedding, in which Jungkook has the honor of being the best man, things are a little hectic. Jaehyun’s an objectively intelligent, organized, and calm person, but whenever he’s nervous those traits fly right out the window.
Hence why Jungkook’s on his way to your bridal suite across the venue to ask you where Jaehyun’s cufflinks are. His twin swears he put them in the same bag as his suit, but they’re nowhere to be found. The men tried calling you first, but your phone must be tucked away on silent because it repeatedly went to voicemail.
Jungkook knocks first before creaking the door open and calling your name. He peeks his head in to ensure no one’s getting dressed and once he deems the coast clear, he steps inside and lets the door shut behind him.
You stroll out from a separate room soon after his arrival, but before Jungkook has a chance to talk, you shriek and jump behind a floor length mirror.
“What the fuck, Jae! You can’t see me before the ceremony!”
“Relax, it’s just me! It’s Jungkook!”
After a long pause, you peer out from around the furniture to confirm his identity. When you find he isn’t wearing what your groom should be, you sigh in relief and step further into the room.
“Jesus, Kookie, don’t scare me like that,” you scold him. “You trying to give me a heart attack on my wedding day?”
Jungkook doesn’t respond right away, or more like he can’t. Seeing you in your wedding dress with your hair beautifully styled and makeup done to highlight all your best features stuns him into complete silence. He didn’t even realize it was possible for you to look any more gorgeous than you normally do, but by god, have you proven him wrong.
You notice his lack of communication rather quickly and give him a once over to discern the possible reason. Unfortunately for Jungkook, it’s glaringly obvious why he’s standing as still as a statue with his mouth half open.
“What? Cat got your tongue?”
You’re being playful, but Jungkook’s far too awestruck to volley your banter.
“No,” he whispers. “Just the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”
The compliment brings a warm smile to your face, but you still shake your head in disagreement while strutting across the room to him.
“You’re only saying that because you haven’t met yours yet.”
He wants to argue, but he can’t explain why that isn’t true without revealing his deepest, darkest secret.
You force him back to reality when your fingers graze his lapel, causing him to shoot you an inquisitive look.
“Your bowtie’s crooked,” you answer his silent question as you adjust the fabric.
“Thanks, Cupcake.”
There’s an earth-shatteringly gorgeous smile on your lips that gives Jungkook actual heart palpitations, especially with you standing so close. He even holds his breath so you don’t hear how wildly the muscle is thumping.
“What are you doing here, anyway?”
Once you finally step back, Jungkook inhales for what feels like the first time in minutes.
“Jae can’t find his cufflinks.”
You affectionately roll your eyes.
“Of course, he can’t,” you chuckle. “That man would be lost without me.”
“Yes, he would,” Jungkook agrees. “He knows it, too.”
“He better.” The two of you share a laugh before you leave his side to find your phone where you have a list of today’s necessities and their respective locations. “The inner breast pocket of his suit coat,” you read out loud from your notes.
“Seriously? I could’ve sworn we checked there.”
“And I know you both well enough to know you definitely didn’t.”
It’s Jungkook’s turn for an eye roll as he grabs the doorknob.
“Well, thank you. I promise I’ll have him in tip-top shape in time for the ceremony,” he assures you.
“Wait,” you request before scurrying back over. Upon reaching him again, you throw your arms around his neck and rise to your tiptoes for a heartfelt embrace. Jungkook’s brain momentarily short circuits despite this being a regular occurrence, but he eventually recovers and returns the affection by enveloping your waist. “I love you so much, Kookie. I can’t wait to finally be family.”
It takes all his willpower to hold back the tears encroaching on his waterline. They’re predominantly on behalf of his deep platonic love for you as opposed to his unrequited feelings. No matter what his heart wants, you’re one of his best friends and someone he can’t imagine living without. It isn’t just because of your connection to him through Jaehyun, either, but the bond you two have built over the last decade.
“I love you, too, Cupcake. Always and forever.” Ironically, once you part, you’re the one with watery eyes that you have to carefully dry. “Hey, hey, no tears. You’ll ruin your makeup.”
“I know,” you sniffle. “I’m just really happy.”
Jungkook smiles.
“Me, too.”
He returns to the groom’s suite after wishing you farewell and of course, you’re spot on. Jaehyun’s lost cufflinks were on his body the entire time, causing Jungkook to lovingly tease his brother as he finishes the final touches to his ensemble.
The two of them are currently standing side by side in front of the mirror and Jaehyun’s spent the last five minutes fiddling with pieces of his suit that are already perfect. Jungkook chuckles at the familiar behavior before clasping him on the shoulder.
“Jae, I don’t understand why you’re nervous when you’re marrying the love of your life.”
Jaehyun shakes his head while slowly releasing the air from his lungs.
“I just want today to be perfect. She deserves nothing less than that.”
Jungkook clicks his tongue.
“But Y/N’s gonna think it’s perfect simply because she’s marrying you. Don’t you know that?”
His assurance causes Jaehyun to smile and sigh in relief.
“You’re right,” he concedes. “I guess the problem is being a boyfriend and fiancé is one thing, but being a husband is another entirely.” He glances down to tug on his sleeve. “I have to take care of her, you know? I never wanna let her down or leave her wanting for anything.”
Only someone as magnanimous as Jaehyun, who’s never disappointed you even once in a whole decade, would worry like this moments before walking down the aisle.
“She loves you. You love her. You two have a long life together ahead of you. Both of you are bound to get upset or wish things were different every once in a while, but none of that matters as long as the love is still there,” Jungkook asserts.
Jaehyun’s smile returns prior to him glancing up to meet Jungkook’s gaze through the mirror.
“I thought I was supposed to be the wise one?”
Jungkook shrugs along with a lighthearted chuckle.
“Someone’s gotta pick up the slack whenever your usual characteristics go on leave.”
The twins share another laugh, but then Jaehyun clears his throat and turns to face his brother.
“You make a good point, about picking up my slack,” Jaehyun notes. “Will you promise me something?”
“Yeah, always.”
Jaehyun’s teeth sink into his bottom lip.
“Promise to look after Y/N for me. If, I don’t know, for whatever reason I’m not able to anymore.”
“Jae —”
“Just promise me, Kook.”
Jungkook knows how much this means to his brother, even if he can’t ever envision a world where you two aren’t together.
“Of course, I will,” he responds assuredly. “I promise.”
It’s obvious a weight lifts off Jaehyun’s shoulders and he immediately pulls Jungkook in for a hug to convey his gratitude. After stepping back, the groom appears much more at ease and even claps his hands together while turning towards the door.
“Okay! You got the rings?”
“Yup.”
“Time to get hitched, then.”
Contrary to moments ago, the pair exit the room lighthearted and laughing as they make their way to the main hall.
The ceremony is beautiful. Perfect, even, just as Jaehyun hoped. From the moment the doors open to reveal you and your dad, to Jaehyun blubbering like a baby throughout your entire walk down the aisle, to the heartfelt, sentimental vows you and him share, up until your groom dramatically dips you across his body for your first kiss as husband and wife.
There isn’t a dry in the room and Jungkook’s heart nearly explodes with love for you both. Seeing you two so joyful and knowing you’ll always have each other is all he needs to die without a single regret.
Cocktail hour, plenty of photos, and a grand entrance into the reception follow soon after and in the middle of all the guests enjoying their meal, the DJ hands Jungkook a microphone for his best man speech.
He’s rewritten the damn thing at least a hundred times, including a version that went something like, “Fuck it. I’m in love with the bride. I don’t know what to do about it. Have a good evening.”
The final product doesn’t contain any of those words except the last four, but even without a confession, he’s unbearably nervous.
“Good evening, everyone,” he announces from his place at the end of the head table. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I’m Jaehyun’s identical twin brother, Jungkook. Being a twin has its pros and cons, as does everything, but no other twin has the perks that I do by having Jaehyun as a brother. Jae is the most kind, considerate, loving, and genuine person I’ve ever met. He’s the best brother in the world and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’ll be the best husband, too. We’ve done everything together up until now, so marriage is the first adventure he’s going on without me. But I know I have nothing to worry about because the person he’s venturing into it with is the best of the best. Ironically, I first met Y/N while pretending to be Jaehyun. I’ve never told her this before, but while Jae’s end of the deal was to take a test for me, I was running reconnaissance on her. Jae had a big, fat crush on Y/N, but he didn’t know if his feelings were reciprocated, so he asked me to go undercover and report back. Our carefully laid plan was immediately thwarted, though, because Y/N clocked that I wasn’t Jae only seconds after I sat down. I knew then that she was going to be around for a long time, and more importantly, that my brother’s heart would always be safe in her hands.” Jungkook takes a deep breath before his final paragraph. “I adore you guys more than I’ll ever be able to properly explain and I couldn’t be happier that you two will have each other for a lifetime to come. I wish you nothing but everlasting love, health, and good fortune. And I love you both so very much.”
Once he concludes his speech, everyone loudly applauds for a job well done, but Jungkook’s focus is solely on your and Jaehyun’s reactions. Except when his eyes land on the center of the long table, only you’re sitting there.
An explanation arrives soon enough when his twin forces him into a bone-crushing embrace. Jungkook laughs while happily returning the affection as tightly as he can.
“Do you have any fucking idea how much I love you?” Jaehyun asks through a sniffle.
“Of course, I do,” Jungkook sighs. “About half as much as I love you.”
When the two break apart, the sound of heels rapidly clicking along the floor steals their attention. Before they can process what’s happening, you barrel right into them with a gleeful cheer.
“I didn’t wanna feel left out,” you explain where your head rests between their own. Both men chuckle at your antics prior to you stepping back to face them. “That was perfect, Kookie. Thank you.”
Jungkook bashfully shrugs.
“It was nothing, Cupcake. Just another Tuesday for me, public speaker extraordinaire.”
“Aish, can you believe he’s drunk already? He thinks it’s Tuesday!” Jaehyun turns towards you to joke.
You giggle and glance at your husband with the entire galaxy in your eyes. As always, Jaehyun’s sporting a matching expression and it’s only once Jungkook clears his throat that you two snap out of the daze and join him in returning to the head table.
Jungkook passes the microphone to his brother, who’s set to deliver the next speech. It isn’t necessarily common for the groom to talk at the reception, but his father did so in order to honor their mother at their wedding and he urged Jaehyun to do the same.
“Hello,” Jaehyun cheers from where he’s standing next to your chair. “I’d like to take this time to thank everyone for being here to celebrate our marriage with us. Y/N and I are overjoyed to be surrounded by you all on our special day and we’re frankly overwhelmed by the vast amount of love we’ve received.” Like it’s second nature, he reaches for you and you automatically lace your fingers together. “I also want to spend a moment talking about my beautiful wife sitting here beside me.” Even though he’s technically giving a speech to the whole room, he pivots so he’s staring directly into your eyes. “Y/N, I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since the day we met when I was only sixteen years old. And to this day I still can’t believe you feel the same. You’re radiant, spellbinding, and magnificent, and I’m nothing but a humble admirer. But what’s truly wonderful about you as a partner is that you don’t view me in that light. You see right through me; all my faults and failures, but also my strengths and virtues. And you love me regardless of all of them. So I consider myself the luckiest man alive because I’ll never deserve someone as warm, caring, and compassionate as you are. It’s been ten years since we became a couple and I’ve yet to even come close. But I promise to keep trying, baby, because that’s what you deserve. I’ve loved you for an entire decade and I’ll continue to do so for a thousand more, even though I know the universe isn’t gracious enough to give us that much time together. But with the time we do have, I plan to cherish and worship you every single second of every single day. Thank you for choosing me ten years ago and even more importantly, for choosing me today. I love you so much, my bride.”
You and Jaehyun haven’t broken eye contact once throughout his whole speech, but yours are shimmering and flooded with tears which are slowly cascading down your pink cheeks.
“J — Jae,” you cry, at a complete loss for words.
Jaehyun doesn’t verbally respond. He just lifts your intertwined hands up to his lips for a kiss before resting them against his cheek.
Following his lead, you forgo trying to produce sound and tug him into his seat by the hand before grabbing his face so you can kiss the daylights out of him. He squeaks and giggles at the abrupt movements, but it soon becomes a content hum as you ardently slot your mouths together as if you’re the only ones in the room.
Your foreheads remain together even once you part as a pair of gleaming smiles appear.
“I didn’t prepare anything to say back,” you complain as your voice cracks.
Jaehyun shakes his head.
“You don’t need to.”
“I love you so fucking much.”
He chuckles and steals another quick smooch.
Everyone else’s been clapping since the moment Jaehyun stopped talking, but you two stay in your own little world until he kisses the tip of your nose and pulls back.
Jungkook’s always known Jaehyun to have a way with words, and he’s spoken about his unconditional love for you at least a million times over the years, but even he’s taken aback by his twin’s profound candor.
It’s a blaring reminder why Jaehyun’s the one sitting beside you today. His brother’s an amazing person, and only someone as noble as him should have the honor of calling himself your husband.
The remainder of the evening all goes according to plan and everyone seems to be having a great time. Even Jungkook, because despite his heart slowly withering and dying in his chest, he always enjoys spending time and goofing around with you and Jaehyun.
A couple hours into the reception, he feels a tug on his arm while he’s standing at the bar and upon turning around, he finds you eagerly pulling him towards the dance floor.
“C’mon. You owe me a dance, big brother.”
“Yuck,” Jungkook overdramatically shouts, but he still allows you to lead him away.
An early 2000s ballad is playing that Jungkook faintly recognizes as you place one hand on his shoulder and he steals your other so you can sway chest to chest to the beat of the music. Neither of you speak for about a minute or so, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable or awkward. Nothing ever is with you two.
“Is tonight everything you were hoping for?” Jungkook asks you.
When you glance up to meet his eyes, your effervescent smile reveals the answer before you verbalize it.
“It’s a dream come true,” you proclaim. “I’ve never been happier in my whole life.”
Jungkook can’t resist mirroring your grin.
“I’m really glad, Cupcake.”
“I mean, it was basically impossible for today to be anything but the best day ever.” Before you continue, Jungkook drops his hand from the small of your back so he can twirl you around. “I’m surrounded by all my favorite people in the world. I can’t ask for anything more than that.”
“Let’s see… your mom, dad, Jae, best friend, cousin —”
“You.”
Your interruption isn’t necessarily surprising, but it still mentally stops Jungkook in his tracks, and he has to fight to hide all the emotions swimming in his irises.
“I don’t know if I’m worthy of such an honor.”
“Of course, you are,” you argue. “You’ve never been just Jae’s brother to me. You know that, don’t you?” Jungkook softly nods. “You’re… my Kookie.”
The idea of being your anything lights Jungkook’s heart on fire.
“Now that is my greatest honor,” Jungkook sincerely declares.
You two exchange matching smiles at the same time the first song ends and fades into the next.
“Sweetheart, I’m over here!” Jaehyun calls from across the room, causing you and Jungkook to turn in his direction. Your groom’s sporting a playful grin while posing with his hands on his hips. “Did you get us mixed up again?”
Without missing a beat, you theatrically gasp and clap your hand over your mouth before looking between him and Jungkook.
“Dammit, not again!” You stomp your foot like a child and cross your arms over your chest. “You would think after a decade I’d be better at this.”
Jaehyun clicks his tongue a couple times along with a disappointed head shake.
“What am I gonna do with you, huh?”
His gag comes to an end when he simply can’t resist sending you an affectionate smile that turns his eyes into crescents and paints his ears red.
You look at Jungkook to ask if it’s alright to conclude your dance so soon, but he’s already nodding towards his brother to give you permission.
“You sure?”
“‘Course. Go celebrate with your husband,” he tells you.
“Well, thank you for the dance.” As you’re strolling away, you turn around to continue speaking. “You know, most of my bridesmaids are single.” Jungkook’s eyes almost roll out of his skull. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.”
He watches you collide with Jaehyun, who immediately grabs your waist to lift you a few inches off the ground while you both squeal in excitement.
In truth, Jungkook could use a good fuck right about now. He’s sure one of the single women here tonight would be more than willing to go home with him or at the very least sneak off to the bathroom, but he just can’t bring himself to try.
Back in college, after accepting his feelings for you were here to stay, he threw himself into the bed of any woman who would pull the sheets back for him. He used sex as an outlet for all his pent up emotions.
It didn’t work. Even when he was balls deep in someone else, all he could think about and picture was you. To his benefit, he still tried time and time again. His body count reached triple digits before he finally came to the conclusion he needs healthier coping skills.
He still uses sex to let off steam every now and then, but it isn’t always because of you anymore. Life just gets stressful sometimes and they don’t call it a release for no reason.
Jungkook’s smarter about his hook ups these days. Rather than fucking to forget you, he hits it from the back while shoving the woman’s face into his pillows so he can pretend she is you. He knows it isn’t right, and that he should probably see a damn therapist, but it helps.
Ironically, and maybe disturbingly, thinking about you and Jaehyun having sex eases his mind a little. Because what you and his twin look like in the bedroom is exactly what he and you would look like, down to the last DNA molecule.
It might seem contradictory to others, but his heart’s a convoluted, fucked up labyrinth.
The last time he sees you and Jaehyun that evening is right before last call. You two are sitting at the head table with your knees touching as you giggle over a shared slice of cake.
Jaehyun spots Jungkook from across the room, where he’s strolling away from the uncle he’s been reminiscing with for the last twenty minutes or so.
“Kook!” He calls with a wave.
Jungkook quickly changes directions to greet you both and upon reaching the table, he pulls a chair out to sit opposite you.
“What’s up, Mr. and Mrs?”
“Night’s almost over. Wanted to make sure you had fun,” Jaehyun states before taking another bite.
“You kidding?” Jungkook scoffs. “I got to watch my twin brother marry the greatest girl in the world. It was the best day ever.”
Sentiments aren’t usually Jungkook’s forte. Even his speech earlier was tough to utter out loud. Him and Jaehyun never vocalize their love for each other because they don’t need words to communicate. So, although it couldn’t be more true, it tastes foreign rolling off his tongue.
“Okay, but besides that,” you interject. “Did you like the cake?”
You point to the dessert with your fork while playfully raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it was great. Why?”
“Because I made it,” you proudly chirp.
Jungkook gawks.
“You made your own wedding cake? Isn’t that against the rules or something?”
When his comment makes you laugh, Jungkook does his best to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
“Well, I’m the best baker I know! Plus it gave me something to focus on besides my nerves right before the wedding.”
If there’s one thing Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re absolutely the best baker. You have been since he met you a decade ago, hence where the inspiring sketch for his nickname for you comes from. Every recipe you create features a little doodle of that particular treat.
You have a business degree, just like him and Jaehyun, so one day you can achieve your lifelong dream of owning a bakery. For now, you work from your household kitchen and accept orders from friends, family, or people who find you through social media. Since Jaehyun’s now the youngest executive at their father’s company, his salary’s more than enough to cover all the expenses until you’re ready.
One of Jungkook’s favorite things about visiting your house is the sweet treats always lying around. Not to mention you often use him and Jaehyun as taste testers.
“Well, shit. No wonder it was so fucking delicious,” Jungkook declares.
Jaehyun takes that as a cue to pass him an extra slice and Jungkook gladly accepts, eliciting a proud snicker from you.
Before digging in, Jungkook scoops up a sizable piece and lifts his fork.
“To the Jeons?”
You and Jaehyun both flash blinding smiles in his direction before raising your own forks in the air.
“Jeon Jaehyun, Jeon Jungkook, and Jeon Y/N,” Jaehyun recites. “I sure like the sound of that.”
“Me, too,” you agree while gazing at your husband like he hung the stars in the sky.
The three of you clink your utensils together and eat in perfect sync, prompting a unanimous moan of delight over the taste.
“Fuck, that’s so good,” Jaehyun mumbles with a mouthful of cake.
Jungkook concurs by aggressively nodding his head along with the signature expression you call his “good food face.”
The familiar sight almost makes you choke when you start laughing prior to finishing the bite. You tell him all the time there’s just something about his forehead scrunching up and his eyebrows pinching together like he’s furious that tickles your funny bone. Especially considering it’s the exact opposite emotion of how he’s actually feeling.
“You’re lucky, Jae. You get to eat the best desserts in Seoul free of charge for the rest of your life,” Jungkook tells his brother.
You snort.
“Oh, and I’ll make you pay for them?”
“You never know!” Jungkook has to dodge when you gingerly chuck a napkin at him. “Listen, when you own some big shot bakery in the city you won’t have time to bake for small fry like me.”
“Kookie, I literally bake an extra half dozen of everything I make to account for how many you’ll steal,” you retort.
He smiles so big his eyes disappear, making it impossible to continue arguing his point because his heart’s doing backflips and somersaults. The thought of you doing something specifically for him is enough to heal almost all the scars of his unrequited love.
Almost.
Because five years later as he’s sneaking into a large banquet hall so no one realizes he’s ten minutes late, his heart still skips a beat when he spots you standing alone near the back.
As always, you look utterly showstopping in a shimmery, navy gown with your hair styled up in an elegant ponytail.
You don’t notice him at first because you’re focused on the introduction of your beloved husband for his big speech tonight. Jungkook uses the opportunity to admire you for a moment without any interruptions. You’re not doing anything special or particularly interesting, but your radiant smile and sparkling eyes alone are a better sight than he could ever pay for.
In the midst of his shameless gawking, you turn your head and discover him by the door. Your face lights up with a wide, toothy grin while you enthusiastically wave him over.
Jungkook can’t help but mirror the expression as he swiftly traverses the room to reach you near the long tables of refreshments.
“Hey, Cupcake,” he whispers before paying attention to the stage just in time for Jaehyun to step out from behind the wings.
Your friendly smile totally shifts when Jaehyun appears; becoming what can only be described as the glow of someone still profoundly in love even after fifteen years together.
“Hi, Kookie.”
Despite returning his greeting, you don’t look away from where Jaehyun’s shaking hands with the event organizer and getting comfortable behind the podium.
His brother then clears his throat and flashes the crowd a cordial, humble grin.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he begins. “This is a very new experience for me, so I ask that you hold any hysterical laughter at my expense until the end of the speech.”
A harmonious chuckle rolls through the room and it’s clear the audience is already charmed by Jaehyun.
Jungkook can’t blame them. Ever since his twin took over as CEO following their dad’s retirement four years ago, he’s naturally come into his own and become a shining star of the corporate world. He couldn’t be prouder of Jaehyun and that’s the sole reason he’s attending an event like this.
It’s a fundraiser for a new non-profit organization Jeon Industries is partnering with and even though Jaehyun repeatedly claimed he didn’t need to come to hear his speech, Jungkook wouldn’t miss one of his brother’s achievements for the world, no matter how insignificant.
“Jae was so nervous beforehand he almost walked out of the house with two left shoes,” you lean over to inform Jungkook.
The familiar behavior of his twin whenever he’s nervous produces a knowing, affectionate smile.
“Of course, he did.”
You finally glance over after his reply and even warmly squeeze his bicep.
“Thank you for coming.” Jaehyun’s speech falls to the back of his mind once it ventures into administrative mumbo-jumbo. “He loves to downplay his accomplishments and the more loved ones I shove in his face, the less he’s able to get away with it.”
Jungkook chuckles.
“Anytime.”
After reaching behind him to snag a dessert from the table, he casually pops the pastry into his mouth. Except it ends up tasting so damn delicious he almost moans out loud.
He settles on just a quiet grunt while rolling his eyes and pointing at his mouth so you understand what’s causing such a response. But once he swallows, he faces you to demand an explanation.
“Holy shit. Where did the company get these?”
One corner of your mouth twitches upwards.
“Where do you think?”
Jungkook’s lips instantly form a shocked O as his eyes flicker between you and all the baked goods.
“No!” You respond with a proud, avid nod. “Oh, Cupcake. That’s amazing!”
“The one you tried is my newest recipe.”
“Wait, there’s no way you baked all these in your kitchen. Did you?”
The table is drowning in sweet treats and although you and Jaehyun now live in a rather grand estate, all this would demand no less than an industrial-sized kitchen.
“No, the company rented a space for me,” you explain. “I still had to prepare everything myself, though. It was insane.”
Jungkook’s positively beaming while you talk about the process because baking on a large scale is your dream and he can’t believe it’s finally coming true.
“I’m so fucking proud of you.”
When you meet his gaze again, he notices a light pink blush on your cheeks.
“Thanks, Kookie.”
You both revert your full attention back to Jaehyun as the end of his speech approaches. At least until Jungkook leans over to whisper another comment.
“I should really wear burgundy more often,” he ponders aloud. “Jae looks like a fucking model.”
As if you haven’t been staring at your husband all night long, your eyes slowly rake over his figure before you lick your lips and nod in agreement.
Jaehyun’s sporting a sleek, burgundy suit with a navy dress shirt underneath, presumably to match your dress. He certainly fits the appearance of a CEO from the lavish clothes down to his hair that’s expertly styled without a single strand out of place.
“He got it tailor made.”
“So you’re saying I’ll still look like a schmuck regardless of what color I wear?”
You make a noise that’s a perfect mixture of a huff and a chuckle.
“Kookie, you’re the only dive bar owner I know with a face like that. Give me a break.” Another scoff pushes past your lips. “Schmuck,” you tsk.
He knows his nerves shouldn’t light up like fireworks over you complimenting his features. You’re married to someone with the exact same face, for Christ’s sake. Obviously you find him attractive. It would be slightly concerning if you didn’t.
Alas, no amount of logic can stop his body’s reaction to your comment.
Just then, roaring applause from the conclusion of Jaehyun’s speech diverts his focus as you both join everyone in clapping for him.
“Thank you all,” Jaehyun announces. “I hope that wasn’t too painful.” With his formal speech over and done, he visibly relaxes behind the podium. “I also hope you enjoy the remainder of the evening we have planned for you. Please take some time to mingle and help yourself to the wonderful spread of food and drinks available in the back. I especially recommend trying the delicious desserts made by my beautiful wife, Y/N.”
Your jaw drops at the unexpected shout out, but you quickly force a smile when Jaehyun points at you and half the room turns over their shoulders to look.
“I told him not to mention me,” you sing-song once the crowd’s attention is off you.
Jungkook snickers.
“Cupcake, how long have you known him? Has Jae ever missed an opportunity to brag about you?”
Lo and behold, Jaehyun continues after a moment.
“And if you need somewhere to go after, the best bar in town is only a couple blocks away and owned by my twin brother,” he proclaims. “Say hi, Jungkook!” While you burst into hysterical laughter that you muffle with your palm, Jungkook turns beet red and shoots daggers at his twin, but he still waves to the room so no one notices his ire. “I’m aware it can be confusing. So if you think we’re chatting, but it seems like I have no clue what you’re talking about, it might not be me.”
Thankfully, Jaehyun’s humor pulls everyone’s eyes away so Jungkook can exhale a massive sigh of relief.
You’re still giggling at his expense, but he can’t resist smiling despite wanting to throttle his darling brother. He should’ve known better, just as he told you, since Jaehyun always supports his loved ones regardless of time and place.
By the time your laughter dies down, Jaehyun’s exiting the stage and weaving through the crowd in your direction. He’s stopped by multiple people along his path, but proceeds like a man on a mission by politely excusing himself to all of them.
Once he’s close enough, he jogs over to you while you place your hands on your hips and shake your head.
“That was some stunt you pulled up there,” you teasingly scold him.
Jaehyun ignores your faux indignation with an adoring smile.
“C’mon, baby, you know I can barely go ten minutes without talking about you.”
He effortlessly scoops you up by the waist and your act falls away in an instant as you giggle and rest your forehead on his shoulder, your own arms circling his neck.
“I’m so proud of you, honey,” you whisper while running your fingers through the short hair at his nape.
Jaehyun’s smile grows before he nuzzles his face against your throat to make you laugh again.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart.” Your feet soon return to the ground, but Jaehyun still keeps you in his embrace. “Was it alright?”
“It was perfect, Jae.”
“Yeah? I didn’t talk too fast or anything?”
One of your hands travels from his shoulder to his cheek.
“Not at all. It was the speech to end all speeches.”
Your reassurance, however playful, causes Jaehyun to breathe a sigh of relief.
He steals a quick kiss and lets you go, but you two instinctively lace your fingers together so you’re still connected. You both turn towards Jungkook next, who immediately opens his arms for a congratulatory hug.
“You did great, bro,” Jungkook assures Jaehyun with a pat on the back.
After they part, Jaehyun returns to your side and rests his hand on your lower back.
“Thanks, Kook. I really appreciate you coming out. You didn’t need to.”
“Like I would ever want to miss all this?” Jungkook gestures to the massive crowd of blue and black suits standing around chit chatting. “You know I just adore the corporate world.” Jaehyun laughs at his brother’s signature sarcasm. “In all seriousness, I couldn’t not be here.”
“Well, I hope you stay a while and indulge in all the food. There’s no chance the people here will finish everything.”
“Oh, no worries, I’m about to clean you out of desserts.”
“No, you will not.” You cross your arms over your chest for dramatic effect even though it’s impossible for you to appear intimidating. “I made those for the guests. If you want some, I’ll bake you a separate batch.”
Jungkook melodramatically clutches his heart.
“You would do that? For me?”
You roll your eyes.
“If it keeps you from demolishing my pastries.”
Before you two can prolong your little skit, Jaehyun grabs your attention.
“Are you ready to schmooze with me?” You nod assuredly and he turns to Jungkook next. “Will we see you once we’re done or do you have to dip?”
“Nah, I gotta get to the bar,” he answers. “It’s restock night so I need to do inventory.”
Jaehyun frowns while closing the distance between them for another hug.
“That’s too bad, but thank you again for being here. And please take some food to go. Grab some for Jennie, too.”
“You got it,” Jungkook replies. “We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right? Same time as usual?”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’ll pick you up at your place,” Jaehyun confirms.
Following their farewell, you step forward to hug Jungkook as well.
“Love you. I’ll see you soon,” you tell him, as always.
“Love you, too, Cupcake.”
After you unwind yourself from the embrace, you rejoin Jaehyun who’s already reaching out for you to take his hand. He kisses your knuckles once you're beside him again before you stroll away together to interact with all the guests.
A deep sigh leaves Jungkook’s lungs as he surveys the table of expensive food and beverages. He knows he should listen to his brother and take some with him, especially considering he didn’t eat much earlier because he was too busy ordering new supplies for the bar. Alas, something inside always puts up resistance to the idea of mooching off Jaehyun, or more so his business.
Perhaps it’s silly, but ever since becoming a business owner himself he feels the need to constantly stand on his own two feet. Even when what’s being offered is just some hors d’oeuvres from a fundraiser. Although, Jungkook does steal a couple more desserts before exiting the hall straight into the cold night air.
His motorcycle’s currently in the shop for a tune up, hence why Jaehyun’s picking him up tomorrow for their monthly lunch. So, until further notice, he’s stuck traversing the five long blocks between him and his dive bar, Kookie’s.
Jungkook never really dreamed of running a bar or even owning a business. He only chose to get a business degree in college because it’s the most versatile and he wasn’t sure what he wanted. But after seeing an ad three years ago for a bar going into foreclosure, something just kept nudging him until he finally applied for a loan to purchase the building.
Now it’s practically his baby, and he does everything within his power to make it the best establishment it can be. He adores his staff, loves the location, and even enjoys mingling with regulars whenever he visits during business hours.
The doorbell dings overhead as he strolls in from the street and the patrons surrounding the entrance all glance over to see who’s entering. Upon realizing it’s none other than Jungkook, they begin hollering and cheering while some raise their bottles in his direction.
“Jeon! Didn’t know you were coming in tonight,” a frequent flyer, Felix, declares.
He successfully maintains his composure even though the warm welcome turns the tips of his ears pink.
As he passes by to reach the counter, he pats Felix on the shoulder.
“I own the place, bro.”
“True,” Felix chuckles. “But most nights it’s just Jennie running things.”
Jennie’s the bar manager, and also Jungkook’s best friend besides you and Jaehyun. Ironically, they met on Tinder, but when their only date ended in Jungkook drunkenly wailing about being in love with someone he can never have, Jennie unilaterally decided being just friends was the right approach.
They have hooked up a fair amount of times over the years, though. Usually after a late night at the bar when their decision making skills wane too much to resist, but it never makes anything awkward between them. Jungkook can not only trust Jennie to run his business, but to keep him grounded and lend a shoulder to cry on whenever he needs it.
He strives to do the same in return and seeing as they’ve been friends for close to ten years, he believes he’s doing an okay job.
She’s currently at the register counting cash so she can add some to the bartender’s tip jar. It’s a well-known fact people tip more when there’s already money in there.
Jungkook raps his knuckles against the wood to force her eyes up, which she does with a lighthearted chuckle.
“Whatcha doing here, boss? Thought you had Jaehyun’s event tonight.”
“I did, but I left after his speech,” Jungkook explains.
“I told you I can do inventory myself,” she argues.
The register slams shut before she raises a challenging eyebrow at him. Jungkook decides to play cute; pursing his lips, tilting his head, and leaning his body on the bar.
“Can’t I just miss you?”
“Ha!” Jennie rounds the counter and shoves his shoulder so he stands up straight again. “If you’re here, then you better get to work.”
She tosses him the keys to the office and he stumbles back a bit in an effort to catch them.
Jennie’s objectively gorgeous. Anyone with eyes will come to that conclusion after just a single glance. He’s also certain they’d be great together and could easily make each other happy for the rest of their lives. The only issue is Jungkook can’t bring himself to cross that divide. He cares about her too much to do so when his feelings for you are impermeable.
Even though he’ll never have a chance to be with you, Jennie doesn’t deserve to be anyone’s second choice.
“Damn, Jen, you’re feisty tonight,” he teases.
Her feet are already carrying her in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen behind the bar, but she still tosses a reply over her shoulder.
“You would be too after the night I’ve had.”
Jungkook’s brow scrunches and he immediately forgoes the playful attitude to follow her.
“Hey, wait!” Upon catching up, he gently grabs her elbow to halt her steps. “What does that mean? What happened?”
Jennie’s chewing on her lower lip and Jungkook knows her well enough to understand she doesn’t want to answer, but he’s not about to let up.
“It was this guy. A newbie I’ve never seen before,” she explains. “Let’s just say he didn’t respect me very much as the manager. Or at all.”
“Excuse me?” A flame sparks in Jungkook’s chest. “What did he do? Are you hurt?”
On instinct, the hand on her elbow slides up to her shoulder as his eyes frantically inspect her for injuries.
She’s plenty used to Jungkook being protective. A female manager in the bar scene isn’t exactly common and it can cause issues when drunk, belligerent men are involved. So, she reaches across her body to push his arm off while sending him a reassuring smile.
“He didn’t touch me, Kook,” she clarifies. “Just acted like a complete asshole.” A grateful sigh passes through his lips. “But his card was already on file so I flagged him in the system.”
“Good.” Jungkook sucks in air between his teeth and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s good.”
“Don’t —”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“— apologize.”
“Jen, I’m your boss. Whether you like it or not, it’s my responsibility if you get harassed at work.”
“Yeah, well, whether you like it or not I’m a big girl who can handle herself.” She sighs and crosses her arms. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile.”
That causes him to hesitate because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. She’s right, and they both know it, but nothing will ever stop Jungkook from worrying about someone he cares about.
“It’s not about you being fragile,” he counters. “I would just never forgive myself if something happened to you.” There’s a brief pause before he pivots tactics. “I mean, you’re my best friend. Pardon me for giving a shit.”
Jennie laughs and her tense features soften a little.
“I appreciate it, Kook. You know I do. But some faith in me would be nice.”
Jungkook disagreeably shakes his head.
“I believe in you more than anyone, Jen.”
This is a common debate between them. When Jungkook first opened Kookie’s, he asked Jennie to be the bartender since she’d worked as one in college. But once the bar became something more substantial, he needed help with the administrative tasks as opposed to pouring drinks.
Jungkook wanted to hire someone externally, but Jennie begged him to give her the job instead. She claimed she knew the place front to back and anyone else wouldn’t be as efficient as her, which he truly couldn’t deny.
He wasn’t hesitant because of a lack of trust in her to run things in his absence, but due to situations like this. Her safety and wellbeing are far more important to him than his business.
Obviously, he eventually relented, and Jennie’s been the manager for over two years now. She does an outstanding job, but Jungkook still hovers and it makes her feel like he doesn’t find her capable enough for the role.
But since they’re best friends above all else, they can argue about the same topic over and over again without any love lost.
“If that’s true, then go home and let me finish the inventory,” she suggests.
The idea causes Jungkook to click his tongue and rest his hands on his hips, but he knows she’ll throttle him if he doesn’t agree.
“Alright. You take care of inventory, but I’ll run the front. Just in case that asshole decides to come back.”
“Deal.” They both relax following the consensus, each of them leaning against one of the steel counters in the kitchen. “So, why did you actually leave your brother’s thing early?”
Jungkook pretends to be clueless by gently shaking his head.
“There wasn't one.”
“Uh huh.”
Although Jennie isn’t aware of Jungkook’s affection for you specifically, she knows something, or someone, in his life leaves him with an unrelenting ache.
“Whatever. Get to work, subordinate.”
Jennie gawks and chucks a dish towel at him that he seamlessly catches and uses to give her a noogie. She shrieks in response while pushing his chest, but Jungkook doesn’t stop until her hair looks like she was electrocuted.
She huffs in frustration while Jungkook merely strolls out of the kitchen with a lingering laugh trailing behind him.
The night concludes without a hitch, which gives Jennie bragging rights about Jungkook having nothing to worry about. She’s still working on the inventory when he locks the door and flips off the neon “OPEN” sign in the window, but she manages to convince him to go home.
“You sure you’ll be alright here alone?” Jungkook asks a couple feet from the door.
“If you ask me that one more time, you won’t be alright,” she threatens with a faux cordial smile.
He knows she means it, so he sighs in defeat and does his signature two-finger salute before turning on his heel to leave.
Less than twelve hours later, Jungkook’s waiting for Jaehyun outside his apartment for their monthly lunch. It’s a tradition they erected soon after college once they both entered the workforce. Unlike school, there’s no guarantee of seeing one another so they grab a meal together at least once a month.
Of course, regardless of their plans, they usually hang out a couple times a week.
Being a twin has a lot of perks, but the biggest one is having a built-in best friend.
When a long black sedan pulls up in front of him, he doesn’t bat an eye since Jaehyun drives a sleek Mercedes just as he always has. But then the back window rolls down to reveal none other than his twin sporting a proud smirk.
“Hop in, broski,” Jaehyun chuckles.
Alternatively, Jungkook’s face drops into an incredulous glare.
“You’re kidding.”
Despite being a CEO, Jaehyun doesn’t really conform to the lifestyle of a filthy rich 30-something. For instance, he allows a driver to bring him from place to place for work purposes, but insists on using his own car for everything else.
“Look, my meeting ran long and I didn’t have time to switch cars.”
“You’re making me look bad, you know. I’m a small business owner. I can’t be seen fraternizing with the enemy,” Jungkook complains.
Jaehyun laughs again with an affectionate head shake.
“I’ll make my driver park around the block. C’mon.”
Jungkook relents following an overdramatic huff, but he still ducks behind a nearby pole to prolong the ruse that they shouldn’t be seen together. After quickly gazing in both directions and putting his hands up in a gun shape, he scurries over to the car before throwing the door open and front-rolling inside as fast as he can.
Meanwhile, poor Jaehyun’s nearly in tears from the hysterical laughter overtaking him.
“You’re such a fucking idiot,” he manages to comment between giggles.
The driver pulls away from the curb while Jaehyun’s busy drying the corners of his eyes and Jungkook’s settling in his seat.
Even though Jaehyun’s been CEO of Jeon Industries for years at this point, Jungkook’s never ridden in the company car. At least not since childhood when they’d occasionally join their parents for an event.
He observes the lush interior with wide, curious eyes while running his hands along the leather and buttons. When he presses down on the one right below the lock, a thick piece of black glass rises from between the two front seats and severs their connection with the driver.
“Damn! Even a partition?” He cheers.
Jaehyun nods and leans back against the corner seat so he can face his brother.
“Hell yeah. I told you being a company man isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook flicks the glass and the sound echoes, telling him it really is as soundproof as they claim. “Huh. So how many times have you and Y/N…”
His hands gesture towards the partition and then the backseat, and Jaehyun immediately understands what’s being asked. He rolls his eyes like it’s a ridiculous question, but Jungkook just sends him a straight-faced, disbelieving look and soon enough Jaehyun smirks because he knows he’s been caught red handed.
“About half a dozen. Give or take,” he answers.
Jungkook snorts.
“Freaks.”
“Yah, you’re the one asking about your brother’s sex life.” The two share a laugh before Jaehyun changes topics. “Did you enjoy the fundraiser?”
“Ehhhhh.”
“Alright, alright,” Jaehyun graciously concedes.
“I mean, you know that’s not my scene. But I loved hearing your speech and Y/N’s desserts were out of this world.”
The mere mention of you pulls an endeared, lovesick sigh out of Jaehyun.
“Weren’t they? She worked so fucking hard and I’m just… in complete awe of her. As always.”
A bright smile naturally spreads across Jungkook’s face. Whenever he hears Jaehyun rave about you he can’t help but feel cheerful. At least if he can’t have you, the best man in the entire world does. Plus, his twin’s happiness means more to him than both his own or anyone else’s.
“She’s going to be a big name baker in no time,” Jungkook predicts.
Jaehyun agreeably nods before a thought causes his head to tick to the side.
“Wait, did you try anything else? You know, the actual food?” Jungkook realizes he’s been discovered and attempts to cover his tracks with a cough, but his brother knows better. “Kook,” he scolds him.
“Listen —”
“No, you listen.” Jaehyun fully turns towards him by bending one knee and resting it on the seat. “I know you don’t jive with this world.” He points around the car for emphasis. “And I know you equate taking anything from it with accepting charity, but that’s bullshit.” Jaehyun inhales to collect his thoughts before continuing. “We’re both business owners, yeah?” Jungkook nods. “Then it doesn’t matter how much profit our respective places make or that I run a corporation and you own a bar. You’ve worked just as hard as I have regardless of the industry you’re in. In fact, you probably worked harder than me to achieve everything you have now. Sure, I paid my dues at the company, but I was always going to take over as CEO after dad retired. You chased a dream; built something from the ground up that’s absolutely thriving. So there's no shame in possibly needing my or anybody’s help, business related or not.”
Obviously, this conversation has nothing to do with food. This is something that’s been building for years because of Jungkook’s refusal to accept anything from Jaehyun, their parents, or anybody else since the moment they graduated from university.
At first, it was because Jungkook felt like he had something to prove. Right after school, Jaehyun joined Jeon Industries while Jungkook floated from one well-meaning job to another. So, he thought he needed to show everyone, or maybe just himself, that he can stand on his own without his family’s wealth.
Purchasing Kookie’s changed his perspective since there was no longer any doubt, self imposed or otherwise, that he could succeed by himself. But Jaehyun was already CEO by then and so his resistance shifted into something more akin to insecurity. Because while he had to take out a sizable loan to kickstart the business, a single paycheck of Jaehyun’s could’ve covered both the building and renovations.
Which he offered to do without an ounce of hesitation when Jungkook originally told him his plan.
Although he knows his brother meant well and he always appreciates Jaehyun’s support, he left the conversation feeling like he would never be enough. It’s not as though Kookie’s will ever bring in even a quarter of the profit Jeon Industries does, and that reignited his determination to prove he doesn’t need anyone but himself.
Jaehyun doesn’t view the situation like Jungkook does and that’s where this grandstand’s coming from. He believes in both Jungkook’s choices and abilities as a businessman more than anyone and finds it ridiculous to compare two polar opposite careers. He also knows if the roles were reversed Jungkook would never shy away from helping him out.
“You just don’t get it, Jae,” he argues.
“But I do, Kook. I understand putting your pride first and I’m not asking you to accept any handouts. I just want you to give yourself some grace, okay?” Jaehyun lays a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’re a goddamn bona fide success story if I’ve ever seen one and leaning on the people around you will never erase that.”
Jungkook sighs while fiddling with his fingers in his lap, but soon enough his lips pull upwards into a smile.
“Thanks, Jae. That means a lot coming from you.”
When he glances up again, Jaehyun’s wearing an identical grin.
“It shouldn’t. I’m just some new money nepo baby,” he counters.
The clever deflection leaves them both laughing as Jaehyun pats Jungkook’s shoulder again before retracting his hand.
Jaehyun’s words resonate with Jungkook despite his prior stubbornness about the topic. He isn’t sure what it is about this specific conversation, but the weight he constantly carries on his shoulders feels a little lighter.
“You know I love you, right?” Jungkook asks.
His twin smiles so wide his eyes become little crescents and Jungkook instantly mirrors the expression.
“Always,” he assures him. “And I love you.”
The two men happily giggle together, but after a moment Jaehyun’s face falls and his eyes grow cartoonishly wide. Jungkook notices the abrupt change right away, causing his eyebrows to kiss with confusion.
“Wha —”
“Kook, get down!”
Everything happens too fast to distinguish the proper order of events. All Jungkook registers is Jaehyun tackling him straight to the floor, an ear-piercing crash and the sound of metal scraping, and an unbelievable amount of pressure surrounding him.
After that it’s just pitch black nothingness.
A blinding, fluorescent light is what returns to Jungkook’s field of vision first. The bright white color overheard forces him to gradually blink his eyes open in order to accommodate the stark difference.
There’s also a steady beep and low hum coming from somewhere in the room, but he’s still too disoriented to make sense of left or right, up and down.
He groans and tries twisting his head, but his neck, and quite frankly, his entire body, feels stiff. When he finally manages to accomplish the task, he notices Jaehyun lying in a bed parallel to his own.
On sheer instinct, his hand stretches out towards his twin.
“Ja —”
“Oh, you’re awake,” someone exclaims.
Jungkook turns to locate the owner of the unfamiliar voice and finds a young nurse standing at the foot of his bed.
“Where am I?”
“You’re at Seoul National Hospital,” she calmly explains. “Do you know why you're here?”
The fleeting, vivid memory of Jaehyun shouting his name flashes across his mind, but there isn’t much else.
“Not really,” he answers.
“You were in a car accident earlier and the paramedics brought you in.”
“Oh.” That certainly tracks with the sounds and sensations he felt before passing out. “What about my —”
“Sir, I apologize, but there’s something else.” Jungkook looks at her expectantly, but she seems too nervous to speak as her fingers cling to the edges of her clipboard. “Your…” She gulps. “Sir, I’m so very sorry to tell you this, but… but your brother didn’t survive the crash.”
For a singular moment in time, Jungkook’s mind, the world, and maybe even the heavens go hauntingly silent.
Then all at once everything becomes total and utter chaos.
Sirens, warning bells, screaming, alarms, whatever torturous noises may exist in this world all blare inside his skull until he believes it’ll explode from the pressure. He can’t think, hear, or see straight and somehow his body feels both weightless and heavier than a skyscraper.
“What… what did you… you just say?” He stutters in fear.
“Sir —”
“No, no. That’s not possible.” An extreme sense of panic is beginning to overtake him to the point he doesn’t even feel like he’s inside his own skin anymore. “That can’t be. He can’t be.”
It isn’t possible because that would mean he’s alone. That his other half, the matching piece of him which makes him whole, the person he shares a soul with… is gone.
How could he ever survive in that condition? He doesn’t even know who he is without his twin.
Nothing is the only answer that comes to mind.
“Sir, just try to stay calm. Why don’t you tell me your name?”
The question completely catches him off guard.
“My name?”
He’s having difficulty breathing and the room seems to be twisting and turning in different directions all around him, but she’s concerned with administrative details?
“Yes, focusing on something will help,” she claims. “Plus, we need to know for identification purposes. You and your brother’s wallets got thrown around during the crash so we haven’t been able to tell you apart.”
A contradicting mixture of confusion and enlightenment breaks through the black cloud hovering above him as he slowly discerns what that means.
So far he’s the only person who knows what happened. His parents, family, and friends have no idea which twin survived. At this very moment, he exists only in a limbo outside the real world where both he and Jaehyun are simultaneously alive and dead.
Once he utters his name, the glass will shatter, and he’ll have to face reality. Not just him, though, but everyone. Which means…
Oh, god. You.
A horrifying vision of you crumbling into a heap on the ground while you scream as loud as your lungs will let you whirls around his mind until it’s all he can imagine. He can picture exactly how your face will contort in agony as salty tears stain your cheeks and suddenly only one notion crosses his mind.
That he would do anything to ensure that never happens.
“Jaehyun,” he whispers without a second thought. “I’m Jaehyun.”
It’s the stupidest, most reckless, and unhinged decision he’s ever made, but he doesn’t have any other choice. Not when he refuses to let his premonition come true. He has to protect you; shield you from the truth so you won’t ever have to feel the emotions he’s experiencing right now.
“Jaehyun,” the nurse repeats. “So, this is Jungkook?”
She gestures to the other bed and Jungkook turns to see his brother for the first time since she told him. He honestly just looks to be sleeping, but after focusing more on Jaehyun’s appearance, he notices the cuts and bruises all over his face and exposed arm.
It almost feels like she’s asking to give him one last chance to correct his original answer; to right the wrong before it’s solidified. But Jungkook doesn’t falter.
“Yes, that’s Jungkook.”
The nurse sighs deeply.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Loss?
No, that doesn’t sound right. The word is far too small to hold the weight of his twin. Then again, no word will ever be enough to describe everything that Jaehyun was.
She offers him a soft smile while stepping closer to his bedside.
“I’ll go notify your family and they’ll contact a funeral home who will escort your brother to the morgue.” Jungkook grimaces at the thought of Jaehyun in such a cold, lifeless place. He doesn’t belong at a morgue. He belongs with him, you, and their parents. He’s meant to be somewhere warm and inviting just like he is. Or was. “You’re medically cleared so once you’re ready, you can join your family outside. You and your brother’s belongings are in those bags there so please take them with you.”
“What are my injuries? I don’t feel anything but sore.”
“That’s normal. You only suffered some minor bruising and superficial cuts,” she announces.
That doesn’t compute with Jungkook and he begins shaking his head like it’ll somehow make sense of what she said.
“How is it possible for me to walk away almost entirely unscathed when Jungkook didn’t even survive the crash?”
The sentence tastes weird coming out of his mouth.
Her face falls and she starts chewing on her lower lip and flipping through the pages on her clipboard like she’s dreading the explanation. Finally, after a couple seconds, she sighs again and offers him a sympathetic look.
“According to the paramedics, when they found you…” She pauses to inhale. “It appears your brother shielded you with his body. Between the floorboard and him covering you, it created a pocket of space that kept you safe from the effects of the crash. If he hadn’t, it’s highly unlikely either of you would’ve survived.”
A harsh, violent sob rips through Jungkook’s chest and causes him to choke. He clasps his hand over his mouth when tears begin to endlessly cascade down his face. His heart feels like it’s being forcibly torn from his body and thrown into an incinerator, leaving behind just a shallow husk that’s drowning in red hot blood from the inside out.
All he can think of is Jaehyun using his final moments to do the thing he always did best; protecting him. He suddenly remembers his brother’s eyes widening upon noticing something over Jungkook’s shoulder and how he didn’t hesitate for a second before springing into action.
Jaehyun is only dead because Jungkook is alive.
But that isn’t right. Jungkook refuses to accept it because Jaehyun’s the one who deserves to live. He has a wife, a massive company where people rely on him, and most of all, a heart full of pure gold.
After a few minutes of crying so hard his throat hurts, he manages to take some deep breaths and slow the constant flow of tears from his eyes.
“So, then,” he sniffles. “Am I the only person to survive?”
“That’s right,” she answers. “Your vehicle was hit by a semi-truck while stopped at a red light. The collision caused your car to roll three times before a telephone pole stopped its momentum. Due to the truck’s high speed, it slammed into a nearby building and the driver was killed on impact. No passersby were hurt, though.”
“Then what killed Jungkook was…”
“Blunt force trauma to the head and internal bleeding.”
He’s thankful he and Jaehyun traded places so often growing up or else this conversation would be close to impossible without tripping up.
“Can I… can I stay here with him before I go?”
“Of course. Take all the time you need,” she assures him. “When you’re ready, your family will be waiting for you right outside the double doors at the end of the hall.”
Jungkook mindlessly nods before thanking her as she turns to leave. Once she’s gone and the door shuts with a soft click, he attempts to sit up for the first time.
His equilibrium is still skewed and an intense wave of vertigo gives him pause for a moment, but he eventually manages to swing his legs over the edge of the mattress and straighten his spine.
His eyes remain fixed on the floor tiles while his mind filters through millions of different thoughts like a jukebox of misery. He starts to wonder if his loved ones know yet and if so, how they reacted. His heart shatters all over again at the idea of his mother and father finding out one of them is gone. They loved him and Jaehyun more than life itself and he can’t even begin to fathom the anguish they’ll be in.
For a fleeting moment, an ugly, twisted thought occurs to him.
Will people be relieved? Not necessarily that he died, but that Jaehyun’s the one who survived.
Will you be relieved?
You have to be, right? When you found out they were in an accident and one of them didn’t make it, you must’ve breathed a sigh of relief after hearing your beloved husband is alive.
He certainly wouldn’t blame you if you did.
What Jungkook doesn’t know is that although he’s correct about his parents, he couldn’t be more wrong about your reaction.
As soon as the nurse uttered the syllables of his name, their poor mother let out a horrific shriek and collapsed into her husband, who was too shocked to do anything but catch her with a face entirely devoid of emotion. Similarly, you screamed bloody murder into your palms before dropping into a chair and pulling your knees to your chest so you could hysterically wail into your jeans.
It never occurred to you to feel even an ounce of relief because it wasn’t about which twin survived; losing either of them was too much to bear.
Back in the hospital room, Jungkook finally lifts his eyes up until they land on Jaehyun. His brother still looks perfectly at peace tucked under the soft, white sheet.
A piece of him wishes he could just remain here forever and convince himself Jaehyun’s only sleeping. In all honesty, he’d rather stay until his twin’s body is nothing but bones than live in the outside world without him.
But he can’t do that because people out there need him. Well, they need Jaehyun. That’s the reason he’s going to live on as him.
His eyes water again as he observes his precious brother lying just ahead of him and soon enough his chest begins shaking from the intensity of his cries.
“You’re such an idiot, Jae,” he croaks. “Why the fuck would you do that? Why would you… why would you save me?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “You have so many people who rely on you. You have Y/N, for Christ’s sake. Why would you protect me when they need you?” His words are coming out muffled due to his forceful sobs, but it doesn’t matter because no one else can hear him. “My life isn’t worth yours, Jae. Not even close.” He methodically swipes at his eyes, but the tears are unrelenting. “You should’ve been the one to survive, not me… never me.” Before Jungkook can even register his body moving, he drops to his knees beside Jaehyun’s bed and grabs his hand. It’s involuntary; like they’re a pair of magnets always meant to attract each other. Jungkook presses his forehead to his twin’s knuckles as he continues to gasp for air. “You. Can’t. Leave. Me.” His vocal chords are rubbed raw and each word escapes between hoarse hiccups. “Please, Jae,” he weeps. “Please, I can’t do this without you. I don’t know how. I’m not… I’m nothing without you. I’m not even a full person.” He switches to resting his cheek against the back of Jaehyun’s hand so he can see his face. “We were supposed to live this life together,” Jungkook whimpers. “It’s meant to be you and me until the end. And… and Y/N. Cheers to the Jeons, remember?” His tears are gradually subsiding, allowing him to finally inhale as his thoughts start to organize themselves. “That’s why I’m doing this. Because you should be here, Jae, and if the universe got it wrong, then I’ll make it right. I’ll let myself die and be the one who gets buried underground, so you can live on through me.” He reaches out to gently push the hair out of Jaehyun’s closed eyes. “I promise to take care of everyone. I’ll look after mom and dad and keep the company running. As for Y/N… I’ll make sure she never feels this. She won’t ever lose you, Jae.” Following a deep sigh, Jungkook rises from his knees and leans over to kiss Jaehyun’s forehead before adjusting his blanket to a more comfortable position. “You won’t be alone for long, okay? I’ll come to the funeral home as soon as I can.” His eyes fill up with tears again, but none fall. “I love you, big brother.”
Jaehyun always teased Jungkook about being eleven minutes older and often claimed he should be respectfully referred to as such. So, he figures he’ll give his twin the satisfaction at least once in this lifetime.
Once his thoughts and emotions settle into just a dull hum in his ears, he takes another deep breath and gets ready to leave. He dresses himself in Jaehyun’s clothes and slips his belongings into his pockets until there’s none left. His next stop is the mirror, where he observes his own appearance for the first time.
Frankly, he looks like hell even without extensive injuries. His face is sullen and devoid of light, his eyes have massive bags under them, and his hair is in knots all over his head. But at least he looks like Jaehyun, and that’s what matters.
It’s a good thing he got a hair cut last week since prior to then the length was about three or four inches longer than his brother’s.
There’s still one thing, though.
Jungkook gasps when he remembers the distinct feature only he possesses while running his fingertips across his cheek. The infamous scar which will no doubt instantly give him away is a major problem. Luckily, the accident itself provides a perfect cover story.
He quickly turns around to rummage through his own possessions for his pocket knife and upon locating it, he grabs an alcohol wipe from a bin of supplies in the room and sterilizes the blade.
Once in front of the mirror again, he cranes his neck so he can see what he’s doing before placing the tip of the knife at the start of the small scar.
“Just go slow, not too deep, and do not fuck up your face,” he instructs himself.
Following a long inhale, he applies pressure and slowly glides the blade down his cheek until there’s a slightly longer, fresh cut hiding the old one. The metal stings as it slices his skin open and he hisses afterwards because of the ache on the left side of his face.
Jungkook surveys the new mark to ensure it’s sufficient before snagging a bandage to cover the injury. Then he slings the hospital bag over his shoulder and turns towards his brother again.
“I’ll see you soon. Okay, Jae?”
He exits the room and closes the door behind him so no one disturbs his twin and heads for the double doors the nurse spoke of. When he reaches them, he stops to spend a moment counting his inhales and exhales as a means of calming himself down.
Beyond this point, his whole world changes forever. Not only is it one where his brother doesn’t exist, but once he steps through the doors, Jungkook is dead.
The life he knew is over and done, but losing his own identity is more than worth it to keep Jaehyun alive.
After smacking the automatic button, he anxiously waits while the two doors swing open. His eyes flit around the waiting room for someone he recognizes and as if by fate, the first person his sights land on is you standing with his aunt near some chairs. He starts to open his mouth to call for you, but your head naturally turns in his direction first.
The world seems to slow like a movie effect when you catch one another’s gaze. Your eyes open wider and your mouth forms a soft O, but soon enough all your features wilt as tears begin to pool along your waterline.
“Jae,” you quietly gasp.
Jungkook watches you place one foot in front of the other until you’re full-on running to him. He automatically follows your lead by rushing ahead and once you reach each other, he lifts you right off the ground while one hand circles your waist and the other cradles the back of your head.
You’re already crying into his shirt where your face is hidden and Jungkook instinctively shushes you and pets your hair.
“I was so scared,” you whimper against his skin.
“I know, baby, I know.” Jungkook twists his head so he can kiss your temple, where he whispers his next phrase. “But it’s all over now.”
A sorrowful, pained whine leaves your lips when you nuzzle yourself deeper into his neck. Jungkook echoes the action, resting his forehead on your shoulder while his fingers slide along your scalp.
After what feels like both too long and not enough time, Jungkook returns you to the ground and pulls back so you can see each other. As soon as he does, he notices a wave of confusion cross your face. It makes him momentarily panic about the possibility of already being caught, but then the expression disappears just as quickly as it came.
It’s replaced with the familiar look of devotion you always have around Jaehyun while your hands rise to cup his face.
“Are you okay?”
Your fingers delicately graze the bandage on his left cheek and he covers your hand with his own as a wordless reassurance.
“It’s my only injury,” he answers.
“What?”
Based on your expression, it seems you’re experiencing the same puzzlement he did.
“Jungkook…” He pauses both for the sake of his emotions and to ensure he doesn’t mess up. “The nurse told me he protected me during the crash. And I remember him tackling me to the ground right before everything went black. That’s why I’m totally unharmed while he…” His voice trails off when fresh tears start blurring his vision. “It’s all my fault,” he cries.
Jungkook’s already shaking again by the time you force him into another embrace so he can sob into your neck. Just as he did with you, one of your hands slinks up into his hair while the other creates soothing circles along his spine.
“That’s not true, baby,” you profess in his ear. “And he wouldn’t want you to think like that.”
The comfort of your voice ironically just makes him wail louder as he clings to your shirt like a lifeline. He’s certain if you weren’t holding him he’d already be on his knees. His grief is inconceivable and the only reason he isn’t drowning is because your arms are around him.
When he lifts his head again, you immediately wipe away the remaining tears on his cheeks.
“We should be with your family,” you suggest.
He nods despite dreading the idea of seeing his parent’s faces right now, but before you can lead him across the room by his hand, a new thought occurs.
“Wait,” he calls while grabbing your arm to stop you. “The bar. Does anyone there know yet?”
An image of Jennie flashes in his mind and causes his heart to clench.
He hasn’t had time to consider all the consequences of throwing his own life away just yet. Including how it’ll affect everyone he loves, because while he’ll get to see all of them again, they’ll never see him.
His last moments with Jennie will forever be her playfully threatening him if he didn’t stop being so damn protective. It was such a mundane and familiar scene, but now it bears the weight of their entire friendship.
“No, we’ve only called family so far,” you respond.
Jungkook grimaces.
“We need to tell them. Jennie, at the very least.”
“I’ll do it.”
“What? No —”
“You should be with your family and she deserves to hear it in person,” you argue.
He can’t refute that, no matter how much he wants you to stay by his side.
“Okay,” he relents.
You steal the hand resting on your elbow so you can encompass it between your own and plant a gentle kiss on his knuckles.
“We’ll meet back at home?”
Jungkook nods and you leave soon after for Kookie’s, hopefully arriving before the bar opens. In the meantime, he tries to regulate his nervous system and emotions so he can greet his family. He knows it’s technically pointless since he’s going to break down again as soon as he sees his parents, but he has to at least try holding it together.
Once he rounds the corner from the hallway, he notices a small group of his loved ones gathered together. Most of his aunts, uncles, and cousins are present and thankfully, everyone seems to be okay at the moment.
His eyes land on his mom and dad near the back of the crowd and the thought of interacting with them for the first time as an only child makes him want to vomit. Alas, he can’t put it off forever.
“Mom,” he softly calls for her.
Her head instantly whips in the direction of his voice and Jungkook holds his breath in anticipation.
“Oh, Jae!”
She scurries over to him like a bullet and Jungkook helps close the gap before throwing his arms around her. His mom hugs him so tight he worries she might crack his ribs, but he doesn’t mind. This is precisely what he needs.
As expected, he’s already crying again and he can hear his mom sniffling in his ear. It causes all his horrible, overwhelming thoughts and feelings to come roaring back stronger than ever despite her comforting embrace.
“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she whispers.
His heart cracks right down the middle and suddenly the deep sobs from earlier return to haunt him.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shh. You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetie.”
“He should be here.” Jungkook gasps and chokes on nothing but his crushing guilt. “He’s supposed to be here.” His mom gently tugs him upright so she can caress his face and swipe at his tears. “I’m not meant to be alone. We’re two for a reason. I’m… I’m only half a person. How am I supposed to survive with half of me missing?”
“But you’re not alone,” she assures him. “You’ve got us. You’ve got Y/N. We’re here, my darling.”
He doesn’t know how to explain what someone else will never be able to understand. No one but him and Jaehyun, and perhaps all the other identical twins in the world, can comprehend what this feels like. It’s like being slowly ripped in half with a dull knife; his very soul stretching across an incomprehensible divide.
“It isn’t the same, mom.” His tears are finally beginning to wane again and allowing him to speak clearer. “You have no idea. It isn’t possible for you to.”
She frowns and drops her hands from his face to hold both of his instead.
“Maybe not, but I think I can come pretty close.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence. “I gave birth to two beautiful boys. But now only one’s standing in front of me.” Jungkook’s stomach drops while she inhales to prevent more tears from falling. “You claim you’re cut in half, but I’m in thirds.”
“Mom,” Jungkook cries.
“I’m not telling you that to make you feel bad, sweetie.” She squeezes his hands a few times with a soft smile on her lips. It’s an expression only a mother could manage at a time like this. “It’s so you know we’re in this together.”
He has to briefly close his eyes to keep his emotions in check, especially when his mom reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His dad approaches them soon after, causing a similar cycle of tears and tight hugs to repeat.
By the time Jungkook’s spoken to everyone at least once, he’s so mentally and physically drained he can barely stand up straight. His parents drive him home, Jaehyun’s home, and your car’s already there when they pull into the driveway.
“I’ll come over tomorrow,” he declares. “So we can talk about… stuff.”
“Alright, darling,” his mom responds, turning around to rest her hand atop his own.
Jungkook exits the car after a quick goodbye and fishes through Jaehyun’s coat pocket for the house keys as he walks towards the front door. He manages to locate them, but his brother’s key ring has at least ten others dangling from the small, metal loop.
“Jesus Christ, Jae,” he mumbles to himself while attempting each one.
Once he succeeds in opening the door, he peers inside before entering the house and turning the lock behind him.
It’s almost eerily silent in the home. Of all the times he’s been here, there's almost always music playing or a kitchen timer going off. He supposes it’s fitting, though. Without Jaehyun, the world is simply duller.
“Sweetheart?” He calls as he slips off his shoes and hangs his coat on the rack.
He doesn’t hear a single peep until he nears the master bedroom.
The door’s slightly cracked, but enough for Jungkook to spot you sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. You’re crying so hard your breath is skipping every couple seconds as your upper body rattles. It’s heartbreaking to witness, and even more so when he realizes you’re also clutching a picture frame to your chest.
Jungkook inhales in preparation and then lifts his hand to rap his knuckles against the wood. Your head rises at the unexpected sound and it turns out seeing your somber, tearful expression is even worse than watching you sob.
“Hi,” you rasp.
“Hi, baby.” You use your shirtsleeve to dry the tears on your cheeks while Jungkook walks further into the bedroom. He sits down once he’s close enough before sliding over until your shoulders brush. Like its muscle memory, you melt into his side while your body releases all the built-up tension. “Whatcha got there?”
Your eyes drop to the object in your hands and you tentatively pull it away from your chest to rest it on your knees so Jungkook can see.
It’s a photo from your wedding, one of you and Jungkook taken after the ceremony by your photographer. Besides the bride and groom portraits, you had them capture quite a few pictures of Jungkook and Jaehyun, the three of you, and finally you and Jungkook.
In this particular image, Jungkook’s hugging you from behind, but he’d tickled you right as the photographer snapped the picture, resulting in an adorable still shot of you two laughing. Just like you always do whenever you’re together.
Did. Since he’s effectively dead now.
Jungkook hasn’t seen the photo in a while, even though it’s framed in his office amongst other photos from your wedding day. It’s hung up on the opposite wall to his desk, so he has to make a point of gazing at them when he isn’t working.
The framed photograph automatically produces fresh tears, although they feel happier than his previous ones.
“I love that photo,” he chuckles while using his thumb to dry his cheek.
“Mmhm,” you hum with a hint of a grin. “Me, too.” Jungkook watches your fingers run down the glass so you can trace his face in the image. You hiccup and sniffle, but it isn’t enough, and you begin softly crying a second later. “I can’t…” You inhale deeply. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”
You’re sobbing again before you can stop yourself and automatically cling to Jungkook by slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shirt. His hands slide around your waist to hold you tight and he even tugs you across his lap so he can gently rock you back and forth.
He won’t lie and say it doesn’t satisfy something malignant inside him that this is your reaction. His worst fear was that you'd be too happy about Jaehyun being alive to care about Jungkook being dead. But it’s a miniscule piece of him. For the most part, his heart aches at the mere thought of you being sad or in pain.
“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I’m trying to be strong for you.”
Jungkook’s face immediately scrunches in disapproval.
“I don’t want that, baby.” He trails a hand up your back to lift your head as his mom’s words from earlier echo in his mind. “We’re in this together.”
You shake your head.
“It isn’t the same for me as it is for you. I’m your wife, I need to be there for you.”
“You are,” Jungkook interjects. “Just by being here in my arms and looking at me like you always do. It’s more than enough.”
Instead of replying, you collapse back into him while tightening your hold. Jungkook follows suit just as vehemently until you two can’t possibly get any closer.
After a few minutes, you both naturally unwind from the embrace, although you stay in his lap and draw absentminded shapes along his collarbone with your fingernail.
“How did it go? Is Jennie alright?” He eventually asks.
“Not even close.” When Jungkook’s eyes tilt down in concern, you elaborate. “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard such a horrible sound before. She screamed like… like I’d plunged my hand into her chest and suffocated her heart. Then she just started chanting ‘no, no, no’ until it mixed in with the shrieking to become this gut wrenching… prayer, almost. I had to catch her, too, because she instantly started dropping to her knees. But she clung to me so tight it brought us straight down to the floor. And that’s where we stayed while she sobbed and whimpered his name until her voice was gone.”
As you speak, Jungkook has to drive his nails into his palms to keep it together. Because Jaehyun wouldn’t react to that news like he would.
For him, every word you utter stomps on his lungs with the weight of an elephant. Not only because the vision you’re painting is downright agonizing to imagine, but because it’s all his fault.
In saving you from the heartache of losing Jaehyun, he condemned Jennie to that fate instead. Sure, it isn’t exactly the same since their relationship’s platonic, but she’s still his best friend of a decade.
“She’s not still there, is she? All alone?”
“Oh, god, no,” you confirm. “Once she calmed down, I helped her hang a sign on the door stating Kookie’s would be closed until further notice and drove her home. I also told her to call me if she needs anything.”
Jungkook nods along with a sigh of relief before allowing his head to rest on your shoulder. It's becoming increasingly difficult to even hold it up, but it helps when you start combing through his hair and kissing his crown. The sensation of your fingertips on his scalp elicits an appreciative hum and soon enough his entire body relaxes against you.
“You should get some sleep, honey.”
He shakes his head while lifting it again to meet your gaze.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to,” he admits.
“Well, let’s at least get you out of these clothes.”
After standing up, you offer him your hands and he takes them without a second thought so you can help pull him to his feet. You begin to lead him towards the en-suite, but suddenly Jungkook’s paralyzed with a completely new fear. He halts fast, causing you to get tugged back in his direction.
“Jae?”
“I can’t…”
“What’s wrong?” You attempt to survey his expression, but he’s staring straight past you into the large bathroom. “Honey?”
“I can’t… um… can’t…” He exhales a shaky breath. “I don’t wanna look in the mirror.”
Earlier when he was ensuring his appearance would exactly match Jaehyun’s, his adrenaline and determination were guiding him and he didn’t think much about it. But now that his body and mind have had time to settle, the idea of looking in the mirror and seeing his twin’s face staring back is terrifying.
Luckily, you steal his attention by gently pulling his face down so he’s looking at you instead, freeing him from the anxious reverie.
“That’s alright. You don’t have to,” you reassure him.
“How? I mean, there’s one in every bathroom.”
You thoughtfully purse your lips and glance back over your shoulder at the room in question.
“Give me a minute?”
Jungkook nods despite not knowing what you’re thinking and sits on the edge of the bed once you leave the room.
When you return, you have a roll of parchment paper, tape, scissors, and a couple other miscellaneous household items. You hurry into the en-suite before Jungkook can question you and close the door behind you, but he still hears the various noises coming from inside.
You emerge about ten minutes later with a prideful grin and steal his hand to bring him into the bathroom with you. Jungkook’s just about to object in case he accidentally catches sight of himself, but the realization of what you did stops him in his tracks.
The massive mirrors which hang above the double sinks are completely covered by multiple layers of parchment paper and taped down around the entire perimeter so they won’t budge. Best of all, there’s a small note in the bottom corner that reads “I love you” followed by an adorable smiley face.
“I’ll take care of the other bathrooms save for one tomorrow,” you state.
Jungkook can barely hear you because he's too focused on what you’ve done for him. His eyes flicker back and forth across the mirrors as if it’ll all disappear if he looks away. But it won’t, because you’ll make sure it doesn’t until the moment he’s ready to meet his reflection again.
Tears flood his eyes and cause him to sniffle the longer he admires your work. When you hear the sound, you look at him in concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jungkook mumbles between hiccups. “I just don’t deserve you.”
Your expression melts into one of nothing but love as you reach out to push his hair back.
“You can say that all you want, baby, but it’ll never make it true.”
He shakes his head. For what, he isn’t sure. Perhaps because he disagrees with your statement or maybe he’s just in complete disbelief over how truly wonderful you are.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
You simply shrug with a soft, gorgeous smile.
“There’s no need.”
The two of you proceed to complete your nightly routines side by side. Other than when you head to a different bathroom so you can see what you’re doing while you wash your face and apply products.
Jungkook finishes first and decides to change clothes prior to you returning. It just feels like the right move, all things considered. Thankfully, he’s spent enough time here to know where Jaehyun keeps his things, such as pajamas.
He’s already in bed by the time you come back and you affectionately grin over how cute he looks snuggled up beneath the sheets.
“Comfy?”
The question encourages Jungkook to run his fingers along the edge of the blankets. They’re much softer than the ones back at his apartment. Which certainly tracks considering Jaehyun made well over six figures and Jungkook doesn’t even budget a salary for himself among the expenses for the bar.
“Yeah.”
His meek reply produces a wave of sadness on your face, but you don’t comment on it and head straight towards your closet to find something for bed. When you return, you’re holding your pajamas. Jungkook quickly realizes what that means and looks down to avoid seeing you change.
He knows he can’t do so forever, but he really doesn’t want tonight to be the first time he sees you naked after being helplessly in love with you for fifteen years.
The mattress dips as you climb in beside him and Jungkook glances up again now that he knows the coast is clear. You make yourself comfortable by sliding beneath the sheets and lying on your side so you’re facing him. He quickly mirrors you, leaving you two only a couple inches apart in the large bed.
“Is it a stupid question to ask how you’re doing?” He shakes his head. “Alright. How are you doing?”
Despite everything, including that he’s doing absolutely terrible, he can’t help but faintly smile at you.
“Honestly?”
“Mmhm.”
After a deep sigh, Jungkook’s hand finds your own under the blanket so he can lace your fingers together.
“I don’t know how I would’ve survived without you,” he confesses.
You squeeze his hand and he swears it’s like someone removing a one hundred pound weight from his back.
“And that’s exactly how we’re gonna get through this,” you claim. “You just lean on me and I’ll see that you make it out safely.”
Jungkook genuinely doesn’t know how much more his heart can take. You’re an angel amongst humans, and he feels woefully unprepared to experience being loved by you.
“I’m kinda heavy, we might need to take a lot of breaks,” Jungkook teases.
The beautiful, melodic laugh he adores so much passes through your lips and prompts him to join in.
“That’s alright. No matter how long it takes, I’ll carry you the whole way.”
More tears prick the corners of Jungkook’s eyes, but you reach out to stop them in their tracks before he can do so himself.
“You’re… you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Y/N,” he cries.
It’s true. Even though you’ve only ever had a platonic relationship before tonight, he can’t imagine his life without you.
“Me, too,” you whisper while caressing his cheek. “I love you, Jaehyun.”
Jungkook forces his eyes shut while willing himself not to cry anymore, but it's difficult to combat the raging whirlpool of emotions coursing through him. One being the profound sadness of hearing you say Jaehyun’s name. His twin who’s currently lying on a cold, steel slab at a funeral home across town. But that’s the precise reason he’s doing this, because you love Jaehyun, and Jungkook loves you. Enough to throw his whole life away just so you’ll never know the pain of losing the person you love.
On the flip side, there’s also the guilt slowly eating away at him. Even though his motives are benign, it doesn’t change him lying in bed with his brother’s wife on the evening of his death.
The worst part is Jungkook never wanted this. No matter how much he loves you, he never once wished you would be with him instead of Jaehyun. You two were a match made in heaven, and Jungkook’s devotion to you both vastly outweighed his desire. Hence his determination to make sure your love lives on.
But now he’s left with no choice but to end his fifteen years of yearning, with this being the defining moment.
For the first time, whether you’re aware it’s him or not, he’s able to tell you he loves you. He’s uttered the infamous phrase to you a million times over the years, but only platonically. Tonight he’s allowed to mean it.
“I love you,” he declares, clear and simple; without an ounce of hesitation. Except once his adoration’s finally out in the open, suddenly it’s all Jungkook wants to say. “I love you, Y/N.” Entirely on instinct, he closes the gap between you by grabbing your waist and tugging you into him. “I love you.” Your arms circle his neck as your body naturally molds to the shape of his own. “I love you.” His opposite hand rises to push your hair back and cradle your jaw. “I love you.” He doesn’t know who moves first, but your foreheads meet in the middle, causing your noses to brush. “Y/N, I love you.”
You’re crying again and he doesn’t realize he is too until your hand slides up his cheek to wipe away the fresh tears. He returns the favor, but it’s useless against the endless raindrops falling from your eyes.
“I thought I was gonna lose you today,” you confess. “None of the doctors or nurses would tell us anything. But the news was reporting multiple people dead at the scene.” You hiccup. “And I was so fucking terrified, Jae.”
Jungkook shakes his head while soothingly running his thumb back and forth along your cheekbone.
“I’ll never let that happen. I’m not going anywhere.”
“But I… I still lost him.” Even through the tears, you manage a small, nostalgic smile. “My Kookie.”
He hasn’t heard you refer to him like that since your wedding and it's just as heart stopping as the first time.
“No,” he disagrees. “Jungkook will always be with us. Him and I were one soul in two bodies. Now we’re just together in this one.”
The irony is so potent he can practically taste it.
“Then will you give him a message for me?”
His eyebrows rise, not expecting your response in the slightest, but he still nods.
Both your eyes and hand drop to his chest where you trace along the stripes on his shirt. Jungkook can’t tell if you’re simply thinking about what you want to say or are hesitant to vocalize it.
“Kookie,” you softly exhale. “I’m really thankful you protected the person we both love most today.” A belated tear escapes from your waterline. “But I’m also really fucking angry at you for leaving us.”
It takes Jungkook a minute to process your declaration because his brain’s just one, big, jumbled mess of both him and Jaehyun. Once he manages to, he clears his throat and captures your gaze again.
“Message received,” he tells you with a smile.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, baby.”
Surprisingly, Jungkook’s actually able to fall asleep. He imagines it’s because you remain in his arms all night and your comforting smell, warmth, and touch are enough to keep him in a deep slumber.
Waking up in a world without Jaehyun for the first time is bizarre, to say the least. Especially considering the moment his eyes open, he’s thrust right back into his brother’s life.
The scent of sweets is wafting through the house as he rises from bed and twists until his feet meet the floor. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and stretches his body that’s still sore from yesterday before glancing around the room.
Everywhere he looks are pieces of Jaehyun, but rather than being a reminder of the horrors he faced yesterday, they soothe his scattered mind. Similar to what he told you last night, being in this room makes him feel like his brother’s still here with him.
After gathering his bearings and changing into something comfortable to wear for the day, he goes downstairs to find you.
As always, you’re standing in the kitchen sipping from a mug and flipping through a recipe book. He spots you before you notice him because the house’s open concept allows him to see the lower level before reaching the final step. He uses it to his advantage, giving himself a second to admire you uninterrupted.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he greets you while stepping down onto the first floor.
You glance up at the sound and your entire face glows with adoration. Jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to that. You’re almost too radiant to look at head on.
“Hi, honey,” you coo.
The mug clinks on the countertop when you set it down and round the corner to reach him. As soon as you do, you slide your arms around his waist and place your ear to his chest. Jungkook hopes you can’t hear the jackrabbiting tempo of his heart; something your husband of five years shouldn’t have.
Jungkook wraps his limbs around your neck in return, letting them lay limp on your shoulders while he bends down to kiss the top of your head.
“Did you sleep well?”
He feels you nod against his sternum and a smile immediately spreads across his face. You gaze up afterwards, taking a step back at the same time so you don’t have to crane your neck.
“How are you doing?”
“I feel… weird,” he admits. “I don’t really know how to describe it.”
“That’s alright,” you assure him. “I’ll still do my best to understand, okay?” His grin grows as he acknowledges your pledge with a nod. “The bathroom mirrors are all covered now except for the half bath near the guest room. But I put a sign on the door so you don’t forget.”
“Thank you so much.”
“It’s the least I can do.” You turn on your heel to return to the kitchen while Jungkook follows like a lost puppy. Not only because this isn’t his normal morning routine, but because he just wants to be near you. “I made all your favorites for breakfast.”
With a gesture at the dining room table, you show off the massive spread of both savory and sweet dishes. Honestly, Jungkook can’t believe what’s seeing. He’s always known you to be a doting, giving wife, but Jaehyun had it fucking made.
“Baby, I don’t even know what to say.” His feet carry him to your side while his eyes keep surveying all the different foods. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
One of your hands gently tugs on his chin to turn his face back to you.
“I know. I wanted to do this because I love you. Simple as that.”
“I love you,” he whispers, almost like an automatic, involuntary response.
“Then will you please eat all the yummy food I made for you?”
He chuckles and nods before sitting at the table and beginning to dig in. A couple minutes later, you return with two mugs and set one down in front of him. His eyes grow with curiosity as he leans over to check the contents, but his face falters upon realizing what it is.
Hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. His brother’s favorite.
Jungkook loves hot chocolate, too, but he hates when marshmallows are included. He swears they ruin the flavor and turn the entire drink into a lumpy mess.
But Jungkook’s dead for all intents and purposes, so marshmallows it is for the rest of his life.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
You hum in acknowledgment prior to turning around so you can grab something else. It’s a good thing because after Jungkook takes his first sip, he gags and lays his tongue out to try getting rid of the taste.
“So, I talked to your mom this morning and she said we’re welcome to come over whenever we’re ready to start working through all the logistics,” you explain while strolling in from the kitchen.
After coming back once again, you sit down in the seat next to him.
“Do you think we can go to the funeral home today? I promised Jungkook I wouldn’t leave him alone for too long.”
“Well, he might not be ready for visitors yet. If you know what I mean?”
He really wishes he didn’t. The thought of his brother getting pumped with chemicals to slow the decaying of his body makes him sick to his stomach.
“Right. Do you think they’ll tell us once he is?”
“We can always call and ask,” you suggest.
Jungkook hums before you both continue eating your breakfast in a comfortable silence.
Following the meal, Jungkook asks you to help him look more presentable since he can’t use a mirror to do so himself. You’ve both already showered and gotten dressed, so all that’s left is to fix his hair and swap out the bandage on his cheek.
You ask him to sit on the edge of the bed while you grab a hairbrush and the first aid kit. He waits patiently as instructed and once you come back, you stand between his open legs and place the items beside him on the mattress.
The first task you attempt is changing his bandage, which you begin by delicately removing the current one. Jungkook hisses when the tape pulls at his skin, but the pain is brief.
Afterwards, he admires your face of determination as you clean the cut with an alcohol pad. He expects you to apply some ointment and the new bandage next, but instead you just stare at the small, red mark with a thoughtful expression.
“What is it?” He inquires.
You click your tongue and shake your head like you’re still debating on the answer yourself.
“Nothing. It's just… what are the odds you walk away with only a single injury and it happens to be in the exact spot your brother’s scar was?”
Jungkook’s heart drops, but he soon realizes you aren’t accusing him of anything and are simply pointing out the coincidence.
“I noticed that, too,” he responds. “I guess the universe just wanted to ensure I have a reminder every time I look in the mirror.” A hollow, dark chuckle escapes him. “As if my identical fucking face isn’t enough.”
“Oh, but it’s such a nice face.” Your fingers trail down his chin so you can tilt his head up. “So handsome god had to make two of them.”
His responding laugh is instantaneous and bright. He even squeezes his eyes shut as both rows of teeth make an appearance. It prompts you to parrot the sound while lovingly caressing his jaw.
Once the delightful energy simmers, he ensnares your waist to pull you close and bury his face in your stomach. His hands glide up and down your back as he holds you and you reciprocate by carding your fingers through his hair.
“Thank you. I needed that.”
“Always, baby,” you reply with a kiss to his crown.
You finish with the injury and brush his freshly washed hair before heading to his parents’ place about thirty minutes away. Jungkook drives, claiming the control of being behind the wheel will help with the anxiety of stepping into a vehicle only a day after a life altering accident.
When you two arrive, your hand immediately finds his as you stroll towards the entrance together. He always saw the same thing happen with you and Jaehyun, but he never realized just how instinctual it is. Even though it’s been less than a day, he has an insatiable urge to touch you at all times.
His mom meets you both at the door and everyone exchanges warm hugs before entering the house. It seems his folks had an early morning because there's already photo albums and legal paperwork strewn all over the kitchen table.
“Alright,” his mom announces. “We’ve got a long to-do list, but we also need to make sure we’re checking in on each other. Yes?” You and Jungkook nod in sync. “So, funeral and burial comes first. We need to choose the date and time, casket, and headstone. Along with writing the obituary and sorting through photos. Afterwards, we need to discuss logistics regarding the apartment, the bar, his motorcycle, etc.”
“If you can’t tell, your mother’s coping by running this house like a drill sergeant,” his dad pipes up from behind her.
The lighthearted humor at the time like this is precisely what everyone needs and allows for the air to feel a little less suffocating.
“I can start on the photos while you all focus on the burial arrangements,” you offer.
“And I’m going to take care of the obituary,” his dad adds.
Jungkook’s teeth sink into his lower lip as he observes the table’s contents representing everything that still has to be done. It’s overwhelming enough learning how to survive alone after thirty one years of being a pair, but now there’s a laundry list of other tasks, too.
“That sounds… good,” he whispers.
You comfortingly squeeze his hand and it leads him to glance over at you. You’re wearing a sweet, supportive smile and you also lift your eyebrows to silently ask if he’s alright. After he nods, you tug on his arm to pull you closer together.
“Jae, sweetie,” his mom grabs his attention. “Can you run upstairs and grab the 2001 photo album? It’s the only one missing.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He lets go of your hand at the same time you step into the kitchen to begin sorting photos. It doesn’t really phase him to walk up the large staircase in his home, but once he reaches the top, his heart drops.
Him and Jaehyun’s rooms are directly across from another at the top of the steps, with a small landing separating them. Neither twin has changed the layout or decor since moving out, so they’re still perfectly preserved time capsules of their youth.
He ventures into his own room first by gently pressing on the door until it swings open. It seems smaller than when he was young, but everything is identical otherwise. His feet carry him around the perimeter a couple times as he runs his hands along the furniture, trophies, books, and collectibles throughout the room.
This is it, he supposes. Everything that makes him, him, will be buried along with his brother because he’ll never be Jungkook again in this lifetime. It makes his grief even more daunting and convoluted because while he’s mourning Jaehyun, a piece of him is also mourning himself.
His fist taps the desk a few times as he inhales and lets the air gradually exit through his lips.
“Goodbye, Jungkook.” A tiny smirk appears. “It’s been fun.”
While walking backwards, he admires the bedroom a little longer before closing the door.
His next stop is Jaehyun’s bedroom and he has to take in another large gulp of oxygen just to prepare himself. With a push, he opens the door the same as he did his own room and crosses the threshold into the familiar space.
He doesn’t recall the last time he was in here, but his memories with Jaehyun are present all around him.
Brief flashes and mirages of their time growing up together play on the walls and across the different pieces of furniture. Like the time they tried to pull an all-nighter at the ripe age of eight only to crash at four in the morning with a pile of candy and soda bottles between them. Or when they were chasing each other around at age eleven and ended up breaking the bed frame by jumping on the mattress too hard. And another one from when they were fourteen and play-wrestling on the floor until one of them accidentally kicked the dresser and shattered a lamp.
They were rambunctious, devious, and fun-loving throughout their entire lives, up until their final moments together.
Most of all, Jungkook remembers lying on his twin’s bed the night Jaehyun told him about you. It’s strange to think how different the last fifteen years would’ve been if that had never occurred. You’re such an integral part of their lives and as his mind replays the memory, he can’t help but smile.
It isn’t for long, though, because the more images he sees, the harder he finds it to breathe. Soon enough, he feels the familiar prick of tears and his bottom lip begins to tremble.
His eyes flicker to the mattress and suddenly all he sees is Jaehyun lying still in a hospital bed.
Jungkook whimpers aloud while trying to stop the influx of emotions before they get the better of him, but it's useless, and he ends up on his knees just like yesterday.
He pushes his forehead into the sheets as harsh, erratic sobs surge through his body. His hands clutch the comforter like a vice grip, anything to provide some sort of stability.
“Please,” he gasps. “Please come back to me.” His chest is shaking so much the words are barely audible. “I don’t wanna do this without you, Jae. I can’t be somewhere you don’t exist.”
It’s uncertain how long Jungkook weeps into his twin’s old blankets, but by the time his body relaxes, he’s got a headache, a sore throat, and his eyes are swollen.
He’s in a weakened, almost trance when he returns to the first floor with the photo album. It lands on the kitchen table with a loud thump and causes both you and his mom to jump because you didn’t hear him enter.
When you notice his current state, your eyes widen.
“Jae?” You call while standing up.
The sudden sensation of your hand on his shoulder grounds him to reality and he slowly blinks back to normal before meeting your concerned gaze.
“I’m okay,” he quietly assures you as his hand rises to cradle your cheek.
You automatically relax into his touch, letting your head rest against his palm.
“Are you sure?”
A hint of a smile spreads across his lips.
“As long as I have you,” he whispers so only you hear it.
Afterwards, his head dips so he can place a light kiss on your forehead.
The doorbell rings, surprising everyone and pulling all your attention to the entrance.
“Who could that be?” His dad ponders from the couch.
“Shit, that must be Jennie,” you answer.
“Jennie?” Jungkook squeaks in shock.
His odd reaction earns him a quick, questioning glance from you, but you thankfully don’t pry any further.
“Yeah. I told her yesterday if she has any photos she wants to include she can bring them here.” You squeeze Jungkook’s bicep before heading for the door. “I’ll go greet her.”
Jungkook’s only thought is that you cannot let her into this house. Jennie, of all people, is the one person who always sees right through him. Not only that, but he won’t be able to keep it together. The guilt of knowing what he’s putting her through is far too expansive.
Spurred on by anxiety, Jungkook follows you to the entrance, but slips into the foyer nearby so he can witness your conversation without being seen.
Once the door opens, you smile and wave your arm to usher Jennie inside before giving her a long hug.
“How are you doing?” You ask her.
Jennie tries to send you a reassuring smile, but it looks more like a tight-lipped frown.
“Oh, you know,” she faintly chuckles. “I’ve been better.”
You grimace and reach out to hold her hand.
“Can I help at all? I mean, with anything.”
“No, no. I just have to… survive my own subconscious.”
“Well, do you wanna come in?”
“Oh, no,” she objects while offering you the shoebox tucked beneath her arm. “I just came to give you these. Please don’t feel obligated to use them. I won’t be offended.”
“Of course, we will, Jen.” You open it enough to peek inside and whatever photos are in there, they make you grin. “You’re Jungkook’s best friend. You deserve to be included.”
Jennie graciously nods.
“It’s just so strange, you know? One moment he’s here and the next…”
“Yeah,” you concur.
“And now I’m just playing back the last time I saw him over and over again and trying not to regret every little thing.”
“What do you have to regret?”
“I don’t know, honestly. Probably nothing, right? But that doesn’t stop me from agonizing over it.” She sighs and sniffles while using her coat sleeve to wipe her eyes. “I just thought we’d have more time. I thought I would hear his voice again, or his laugh. See those huge fucking eyes of his go wide because he got excited.”
You both break out into a fit of giggles and Jungkook’s suddenly smiling from ear to ear. Not necessarily because of your conversation, but the vision of his girls looking so happy together. Even if it’s only fleeting.
“God, he was such an enigma. Wasn’t he? Like he owns a dive bar, exclusively wears all black, and drives a motorcycle, but also owns multiple pairs of Iron Man socks and has a pink toiletry bag.”
“Oh, don’t forget the adorable little keychains he used to hang from his backpack in college,” Jennie adds.
The two of you laugh again before you gesture towards the interior of the house.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come in?”
Jennie thoughtfully nibbles on her lower lip for a moment, but inevitably shakes her head.
“No, I, uh, I don’t think I can handle seeing Jaehyun right now,” she confesses. “Not because of anything to do with him, of course. I just have no idea how I’ll react to seeing someone who looks just like Jungkook.”
You nod understandably.
“No worries.”
She sends you a warm smile that you mirror before giving one another a goodbye hug.
Jungkook’s beyond thankful she didn’t want to come in because watching from the shadows is one thing, but actually interacting with Jennie would’ve been next to impossible.
He watches you wave until the door shuts and then makes himself known by stepping into the main hallway. You jump a little when you spot him and Jungkook tosses his hands up in surrender.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just curious to see how she’s doing for myself,” he explains.
“Gosh, warn a woman first. Will you?”
Despite your retort, you’re smiling as he closes the gap between you.
“I can help you go through photos, if you want,” he offers.
“No need, baby. I’ve got it handled. Besides, you need to help decide on everything.”
Jungkook clicks his tongue and grimaces.
“Right. Except that’s kinda what I was trying to avoid.”
“I know,” you giggle. “You really think I don’t see through all your little tricks by now?”
Well, there’s definitely one I know you can’t see through.
“I just…” He sighs. “Deciding on this stuff makes it real and I don’t want that. I don’t wanna pick out a casket because he shouldn’t be in a casket in the first place. He shouldn’t have a headstone or an obituary... all of this is just fucking wrong.”
Clearly the anger stage of grief is beginning to set in because his hands clench into fists while he talks.
“It is.” Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth as you debate on your next statement. “But if he were to need a casket or a headstone, he deserves the best ones. Doesn’t he?”
Jungkook shakes his head with his eyes glued to the floor.
“He deserves to be alive.”
After eliminating the space between your bodies, you cup his face with both hands and force him to meet your gaze.
“You’re right. But if the universe won’t give him that, then this is the next best thing we can do for him,” you claim.
To this day it still shocks Jungkook every time you’re able to make everything feel okay again without even trying. Whether through words, touch, a smile, or merely your presence, you have a magical way of calming him down and allowing him to breathe freely.
“Yeah,” he whispers.
“Yeah?”
Jungkook nods and paints a grin onto his face.
You two rejoin his parents in the kitchen and everyone gets to work on their respective tasks. When his dad finishes the obituary, he reads it out loud for a second opinion. Once that’s done, he helps Jungkook and his mom choose the most important details of the day.
By the time the sun dips beneath the clouds, you’re all mentally drained and decide to call it a day. The funeral won’t be for another week, anyway, so there’s still time. Most of the issues yet to be tackled are what happens with the bar and Jungkook’s possessions, but thankfully, he’s here to help make those decisions himself.
THIS STORY IS NOT OVER YET, PLEASE CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING (due to tumblr's 1k block limit)
it wasn’t hard when you had it all. you were the prettiest girl at your university by miles, paired with a good brain, a sweet personality and more importantly - you were genuinely nice to be around. every girl wanted to be you and every guy wanted you for himself, a combination that had you ranked queen bee on the social hierarchy, something you had never even tried to do.
it came naturally to you, and that was the part that had people who didn’t like you so envious. you didn’t try to be likeable, you simply were, making sure to befriend anyone and everyone despite their social status, or just going out of your way to be kind to people just because you could. the fact you were so beautiful only added a cherry on top. you were a full package.
even your circumstances had a way of working out. you came from a household where abuse was a norm, and so, you had left at the ripe age of 12, only to be taken in by your best friend, yejin, and her family who you now considered your own. you were treated as though you were blood, with lavish birthday parties, and a full ride to the university of your choice, which just so happened to be the same one your best friend attended - to which you both shared a lovely apartment on campus.
you were perfection defined to all, and yet, they failed to see your one fatal flaw.
obsession.
it was a disease, you knew this much, which is why you kept it under lock and key, a darkened secret only you knew about. it trickled into the darkest parts of your brain where it had begun to fester into tangent thoughts, things that coaxed your throat and soul into a never ending cycle of want and need.
no one understood, no one would, you knew that. how could you explain that you had never been able to look at someone normally without feeling the entirety of your life collapse before your very eyes?
you made it a a rule to never fall in love, not with anyone, not ever. a rule made to be broken it seems for only a few months into your university life, your eyes happened upon the one person that had brought every dark fantasy of your own to light.
jeon jungkook.
oh, that name. it unsettled you. it made you become a twisted little thing that wanted nothing more than to lock him away for your own selfish greed.
you felt pained at the prospect of him looking at another woman, even more pained when you realised he was the one person you couldn’t introduce yourself to - leaving you in a limbo where you couldn’t stomach him belonging to another, and doing exactly nothing about it. what was the point of popularity when it couldn’t even be used for your benefit, in your time of need?
being smart was one thing, jungkook was a genius. he was years ahead of anyone you’d ever met, with a brain so sharp it seemed to annoy him whenever he was sat in your shared physics classes. you sat four rows behind him, three seats to his left, giving you the prime spot to stare at him all lesson, doodling his name in your book whilst thinking of all the ways you wanted him.
it wasn’t sexual, not entirely - of course you often thought of him. you had been with other men on the mere basis that they shared a feature with him, whether it be his large eyes, his smile, his dimpled cheeks - one look and you were able to imagine it was him instead, though it never quite satisfied that deep itch inside of you. it was more than that, though. he represented something fucked up inside of you, something that had your hands shaking whenever you conjured it up in your mind.
he was home, and he didn’t even realise it.
he wasn’t particularly nice, with an ego too large to really make good friends. he had a few, all who were equally as smart, and they would sit at a table quiet, amongst themselves, where you would fight with every inch of your life to not look over despite feeling some of their eyes on you. you were pretty, popular and smart - every man’s dream, and yet it meant nothing if it wasn’t him.
you couldn’t even remember how this began, only that it had no end. he had no social media presence, went to his nerdy, stupid clubs, played his games with his friends and studied endlessly - you needed him like you needed air to breathe.
it was comical really.
hilarious, that you, despite your wit, were not able to see what was so clearly so familiar to you reciprocated.
how was it that jeon jungkook, object of your foul infatuation, had the same incessant need when it came to you?
it was sick, really, the way he felt about you. sweet little thing, shorter than him, smaller in every way, he knew that he could have cornered you months ago and you would have bat your big eyes up at him in that way you often did to others, rendering them weak, wrapping them around your pinky.
it wasn’t enough.
he wanted you in a way that wasn’t normal, it couldn’t be encouraged - he wanted you to belong to him, to own you, to have you so deeply intertwined into him that you wouldn’t know how to breathe without him. that’s how he felt about you, and he was sure you had never even noticed him.
every day, he’d wake, sitting in the same seat of his physics class where the reflection of his laptop monitor would show you sat a few rows behind him, to which he would spend the entirety of his time watching you. though he couldn’t see your face clearly, the muffled reflection of you was enough to have his heart beating out of his chest, as his hand would often crush whatever pen or pencil would have the misfortune of being in use that day.
the difference between you both was simple. jungkook had gotten here first.
he remembered the day his eyes had found you, simply studying in a cafe, his heart looping over and over and over and over. he had sat at the opposite end, watching you, for a straight hour before you had left, to which he needed another on his own simply to recoup.
he wanted to be good for you, throwing himself into his academics just so he could have something to show for. he was a genius, his brain working at a rate much faster than that of the average person, and it didn’t go unnoticed - his professors practically begged for his opinion, job offers going crazy at the prospect of managing to bag such an ideal student after graduation.
he kept them all in limbo, no matter the insane salaries. it would all depend on you; his sweet, angel girl. where would you want to settle? far away, near the coast, where sun and ocean were to be siblings? or would you prefer to stay in the city, where familiarity brought you comfort?
even the thought of you got him hard, his hand constantly having to adjust himself whenever he was even near you.
that’s when the stalking properly began.
first step in making his life easier were the cameras. he installed them mainly in your room, managing to put a few at different angles when you and your roommate were away on a holiday. he remembered that day fondly, having stolen multiple articles of clothing for himself, even going so far as to edge himself in the comfort of your own bed, breathing in the soft scent of your shampoo from your pillow.
second, the tracker on your car. what kind of guy would he be if he let his girl go anywhere, and everywhere without notice? he liked to make sure you were safe, after all, and how else was he supposed to enjoy his weekends if he didn’t know where you were? wherever you would go, he would come too, adorned in a hat and a mask, sat at a distance, but close enough to admire your sweet face.
thirdly? interference.
watching had become tedious, especially when the payout was beginning to become the same. he longed for more, craved to know you in a way that was completely out of bounds. he wanted something bigger, wanted to mould the situation further until it could unravel all on its own.
it started small. a window left unopened, despite you knowing with certainty that you had closed and locked it the night before. then, your lip gloss, a favourite where you carried everywhere diligently, suddenly disappearing. you weren’t forgetful, nor known to misplace things, so its sudden loss became confusing to you.
clothes weren’t being taken, but they were being moved. you liked your wardrobe coded, with summer and spring on one side, and your autumn and winter on the other - you knew once you started realising a few pieces had been messed around with, that someone was actively here. touching, misplacing.
you noticed - how could you not? you were observant, far too in tune with your things to not notice such small details that felt jarringly big to you.
he watched it all with bated breath, and his fist around his cock.
the way your features would pull in confusion, head tilting and pout ready, unaware you were on camera and being live streamed to him and him alone. god. he wished you could see what you did to him, how you had him breathing heavy at the mere sight of you - he yearned to know if it would scare you away.
the thing that began to dawn on him, however, was the realisation that it didn’t add up.
your lack of action, or perhaps your lack of reaction, was the first stickler. your acceptance, however, was a confirmation of something he had only ever dreamt of in his wildest, most fucked up dreams.
you understood.
you weren’t scared, or confused, or terrified at the prospect of someone breaking in. no, you were at ease, as though what you knew of yourself could no longer scare you, even if it stemmed from someone entirely different and this..oh, this. that was what he craved.
he couldn’t stop now that he was aware, and lord knew that his plan was beginning. no longer would he sit in the shadows, watching and bidding his time.
you were his, whether you liked it or not.
the first time he stayed, he didn’t touch anything, a clear difference to all the other times he had become comfortable.
your apartment was quiet, the soft hum of the fridge bleeding into the silence, yejin snoring somewhere on the opposite side of your shared place, all whilst jeon jungkook stood in your bedroom, watching you sleep.
you were so sweet to watch, all curled into the covers, cheek smushed against the pillow whilst you held something tightly to your chest. a little teddy he had left on your bed for you, a sign of his courtship that he could see for his own two eyes you had accepted readily. the sight had him smiling.
his tongue pressed into his cheek as he stepped closer. the sight of your panties, forgotten on the side, had him grunting lightly, his hands reaching out for them almost immediately before pulling them up to his nose, and breathing them in hungrily. his favourite scent.
he had seen you through screens regularly, stolen so many pairs of your underwear just to smell them - this all felt like routine.
you, however, asleep. no, this was out of the norm.
he had never seen you so adorable, so sweet. his girl, he whispered under his breath before backing away quietly.
it wasn’t time. you couldn’t see him just yet, not until you were ready, because he knew once he started, he couldn’t stop.
and so, he gently placed your panties into his pocket, cock hard, shoulders rolling before slowly departing, his heart thumping out of his chest.
he wasn’t ready for you to see him. not like this.
not until you understood.
—
the party was loud. excruciating for some, but the alcohol in your system left a dull hum in your ears as you sipped from the red solo cup, your hair pulled up into a sweet ponytail. bodies were packed so closely, with laughter echoing against each wall, a bright and illuminated swimming pool at the heart of the party where everyone stood in either bikinis or shorts.
this was the kind of place that chewed people up and spat them out whole - a place where you dominated. you fit right in, perched against a corner of the pool with your feet in the water, too small bikini barely covering your tits whilst a scrappy pair of shorts sat on your body. the essence of a university pool party was to be as promiscuous as possible for the night, whilst completely disregarding any man that approached you.
you only had eyes for one anyway.
you were used to the eyes, the attention, the way heads turned when you and yejin walked into a place, but even this felt a little too much. frat parties weren’t to your taste personally, but they were where the vibes were - everyone knew if you wanted to party, you had to attend a kappa pi event, no matter how annoying the guys were. it was simply an opportunity to see and be seen, to get a buzz in your system, let loose and what not.
secretly, you had tried your hardest not to come, but yejin wasn’t having any of your excuses. you had done something, something that felt so inherently fucked up, and yet your stomach was buzzing in a sort of excitement that you knew if anyone ever found out, you’d be demonised for life.
you had hacked into jungkook’s phone.
fuck. it felt thrilling to even think about how you had done it, and a small sense of pride filtered through you veins at the recognition you had done it all by yourself.
many often dismissed you as a pretty girl, but you were incredibly smart. it didn’t take long to figure out the coding needed to hack into his phone, especially when you had been eyeing it for so long - you had spent your last physics class doing exactly that, managing to infiltrate it directly, and now being able to access it in real time on your own.
you could see what he was doing, what sites he’d access, what he’d watch, what he’d do, who he’d text. your body shook in excitement at the thought, brain completely somewhere else as yejin giggled at something a guy whispered into her ear, sipping quietly.
she had begged you to come, unaware of the fight inside your chest, and considering the way you were gripping your phone, she figured you had met a new guy. she was never one to push you, knowing you were oddly private about these things, always respectful of your boundaries - but she couldn’t come to a party like this alone. she won in the end, knowing you couldn’t say no to her.
“we’re gonna get some more drinks. want anything?” she asked you sweetly, to which you shook your head with a small smile, wiggling your eyebrows about the man who had turned his back momentarily.
she let out a small giggle and nod, before standing up, walking away and into the house, leaving you to soak in the water and party for yourself.
water splashed from different sides of the pool as condensation clung to your bare stomach and legs, the slight chill in the air pebbling your nipples, all whilst you tipped your head back in soft thought.
it was exhausting the way you couldn’t think, or exist without him tumbling into your thoughts, demanding your attention, grabbing it without permission. you could feel a constant ache in your stomach at his absence, wanting nothing more than to simply fixate on him from afar. you couldn’t even imagine what he’d be like up close.
you were too caught up in your own delusions to realise the very object of your affections stood only a few metres away from you, chest heaving.
you see, jungkook knew.
he had known before stepping foot into the frat house, phone heated in his palm as his fingers practically crushed it, screen glowing with something that shouldn’t have made sense. it couldn’t be.
he noticed the abnormality almost immediately.
a delay, at first, hardly noticeable to a large majority of people and yet he was different in every way. a man like him, savvy in ways that were not deemed normal, determined something was wrong almost immediately - code didn’t falter unless someone had interfered.
unless something, someone, was inside.
it took him less than 10 minutes, fuelled by anger at first. who the fuck dared to hack him? what could they even want? money? extortion? did someone know about his psychotic obsession with you? his chest flipped at the thought of being found out before he could monopolise on it, before he could have ever even watched your reaction up close. it pained him.
and thus, queue ten minutes of silence in the car as jin, his friend, drove the 20 minute journey to the off campus party, all whilst he sat in the backseat, decoding, deciphering.
he traced lines, rerouted access, digging deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper until he finally got exactly what he wanted.
once he had found it, he dropped his phone into his lap with a silent, shaky exhale.
you.
it took him another 40 seconds just to be able to pick his phone up without his hands betraying him weakly, his eyes widened, lip caught between his teeth.
he couldn’t stop staring - far longer than what was necessary, or logical. it was as though neither his eyes or brain could comprehend what was in front of him.
your name. you. your access. you. your fingers swiping through apps and looking at things. you. he watched as you entered his photo album, lingering on gym photos, and random pictures he would take of things he needed to remember. you.
he broke the silence in backseat, his friends paying no mind as they chatted amongst themselves, only for him to laugh quietly under his breath in disbelief.
you.
you?
his sweet, angelic girl. you? with your big eyes and pouted lips, so precious it made his heart ache with a need to ruin you. dressed in your baby pink’s and blues, constantly attaching cute little keychains to your bag, an aura emitting from you that he long wanted to get his hands on.
oh, he had misplaced you entirely.
to do something so wrong, perverse..so filthy. hacking into his phone? for what?
his brain had rewired in the span of the remaining ten minutes of the journey to the party, a soft understanding filtering through his body.
he didn’t know you well at all. in fact, he was appalled. here he was, a man priming himself to be your future, and yet he barely knew you it seemed. he had fallen right into your trap of innocence, as though you were free from any of the filth that plagued his mind - only to find out you too were a victim of it.
he could have shut you out. your work was sloppy, too out in the open, it had taken him mere minutes to discover you, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to ever do such a thing.
oh, sweet, sweet y/n. his heart bloomed at the thought of you, a small, genuine smile on his face as he watched you rummage through his phone, even going so far as to sneak through his notes app. his cock pulsed painfully whenever he’d see you linger on one of his photos, a confirmation that you too were so sick in the head.
once the car stopped, he knew the game had finally begun.
jungkook didn’t belong here. it was obvious to anyone that knew him, and to himself - this wasn’t his usual scene, despising loud gatherings as though they were an insult to him personally. his closest friends, all who were as nerdy as him, stared wide eyed as they took in their surroundings, trying to place themselves somewhere that typically excluded them.
he wouldn’t have come, not usually, but he had a very clear objective.
you.
he salivated at the prospect of having you out in the open like this, tits practically on show, tiny bikini whilst you sat so sweetly as you always did, completely oblivious to the way every man had their eyes on you. he was jealous by nature, possessive to a fault - what kind of guy would he be had he not come?
he was in a pair of shorts, forgoing his t-shirt somewhere at the entrance, and he knew he had caught the attention of a few girls himself. he was bigger than most of the guys here, with muscles rippling every crevice, a chest so broad and shoulders so wide they had you closing your eyes tight in thought most days.
one look at you, and his very soul fell aflame.
his jaw tightened, hand crushing his phone slightly as his chest flexed. not through a screen, not through hidden glamours under a cap and mask, no. he was out in the open, watching, staring, salivating.
you were on your phone now, a hidden little smile forming on your lips, almost giggling. one look at his phone and he could see you were still looking through as though it was the most interesting thing on earth, despite being sat alone with multiple people yearning for your company. he was of course one of them.
he couldn’t stand this feeling in his stomach any longer, the excitement, the thrill. the game had shifted entirely now he knew you were a willing participant. you were one and the same, equally as fucked, equally as messed up. he couldn’t think of anything more romantic even if he tried.
his tongue pressed against his cheek just as a girl walked past him, fingers trailing over his chiseled abs in a way to get his attention. he looked down at her, almost feeling an excruciating sense of disgust at the sight of her - another girl touching him, someone that wasn’t you?
his face remained stoic, mean even, despite the sultry smile on her lips as she passed him, no doubt figuring it would be easy to bed the nerd, something that nearly had him scoffing under his breath. once she had properly walked away, his eyebrows furrowed, frowning slightly, before returning his attention back to you.
his sweet girl.
only, this time, you were staring back at him, eyes wide, lip jutted out in a pout, a look of clear upset painted on your features. you weren’t even trying to hide it, your emotions stronger than anything you could conjure up.
he was yours. all fucking yours, and here he was, chiseled and hardened in a way you had never seen in real life, tattoos cherishing much of his milky skin, your chest almost heaving at the sight.
that green, ugly emotion in your chest was fluttering all over you at the sight of him being touched by someone else, so much so that you broke eye contact with him after a few moments, your brain not comprehending the way he too was staring at you, so much deeper than simply looking. you looked to your left, hands turning your phone off as you tried to regulate your breathing.
you felt like you had been punched in the stomach.
you couldn’t even fester on your feelings, as yejin tumbled over to you, grin wide, drinks in hand, her new boy toy following like a lost little puppy, though she paid him no mind, no longer interested.
“got you a drink anyway.” she hummed, sitting beside you on the edge, putting her feet into the pool.
she peered up, noticing your far away expression, the way you were nibbling on your bottom lip, hands slightly shaking.
“you okay?” she asked, voice immediate, eyes furrowed as she examined you.
“yeah.. sorry. just got a bit of a headache, the musics too loud.” you lied smoothly, praying she would believe you.
to further convince her, you took the drink she handed you, wincing only lightly as you drank it all in one go, completely ignoring the burning stare from just behind her.
you couldn’t think. it wasn’t like your brain worked like the average girl’s anyway, you were clouded with this parasitic obsession that clouded every normal thought - how could he? how dare he? were you not pretty enough? smart enough? did you not warrant enough to capture his attention entirely?
your chest only pained further, as yejin began conversing with you, and you kept up, of course, to appease appearances. the thud in your throat was heavy in itself, chaining you to where you were sat, your shoulders hunching up with every wave of deep jealousy.
“i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” you murmured to her. “okay, want me to come with?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, knowing you were being a little different.
“don’t worry, i’ll be down soon.” you shook her head, giving her a small sort of smile, before getting up.
the hallways of the house felt much narrower when you were walking through absentmindedly, thoughts completely adrift, stomach aching in horrible self doubt. too long, too packed, bodies brushing past you as you made your way to the bathroom with the sole intention of locking yourself inside and simply overthinking.
your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands, leaving bloodied crescents as your breath continued to get more and more uneven the more you thought.
how could he?
over, and over, and over, and over.
it didn’t make sense, it shouldn’t have mattered, not to this extent, even you recognised how abnormal this was, but he was yours. jungkook was all fucking yours - you had done the work. you were the one hacking into his phone, invading his privacy and his right to anonymity. it was you, all you, and to have someone else see him when he belonged to you was fucking enraging.
you felt humiliated when you took into account he didn’t even know you.
you barely recognised the heavy footsteps behind you. not until a harsh hand grabbed at your wrist, all but forcing you against the cold wall. a sharp gasp tore from your throat as your body made contact, your shoulders hunching upwards immediately at the hiss of coldness against your skin, a wild difference to the bubbling heat simmering inside of you.
him.
your eyes widened for a fraction.
jungkook didn’t give you time to hesitate, no time to run or turn, your hands being grabbed and forcibly pushed above your head, pinned against the wall. your eyes were large, lips parted with small puffs, whilst he stared at you openly.
you had never been this close to him.
to look at his features directly, with every opportunity to trace the slope of his nose, the soft skin of his lips, the furrow of his brows and the harshness lined in his eyes. he was everywhere all at once, his bare chest emitting a sort of heat that had you almost curling towards him, your own chest lost of any air and comfort.
you couldn’t think, your shaky breath stopping for a moment only to release a quiet whimper that seemed to hit him directly as he too let out a shaky breath.
“where are you going?”
his voice. oh, his voice. so quiet, meant only for you, and yet firm.
like he already knew the answer, only asking to hear his own suspicions confirmed.
your lips parted, your chest still heaving as you tried to pull yourself together. you couldn’t show him how undone you were by his presence, never mind his burning touch - something you know you’d replay over and over until your mind split in half.
“bathroom..” you managed, barely above a whisper.
the weakness in your tone compared to the firmness of his own was visibly jarring, enough to have his eyes trace each and every one of your features. your nose, to your lips, cheeks to your eyes, all down the panels of your neck.
he acted as though he had all the time in the world, as if this wasn’t highly inappropriate given you were both technically strangers. oh, how ignorant you were to your own surroundings.
“you look upset.” he murmured, tone void of any concern. instead, laced with recognition - as though he knew to read you better than he could himself.
you swallowed harshly, jungkook watching your throat with his own bated breath.
“i’m not,” you said quickly. too quickly. “it’s just loud, i..it’s just..”
his thumb pressed into your pulse, feeling it jump.
lie.
“you’re a bad liar.” it felt like a warning.
a beat.
you exhaled through your nose as he eased the pressure on your wrist, gently rubbing his thumb as a means to ground you once more. you wanted to relax, wanted nothing more than to ease in his touch but all you could think about was how close he stood to you, his cologne, both of you scantily dressed, your bikini top doing nothing to cover you modestly.
“look at me.” he whispered, your eyes having fallen to his bare chest as you began to space out into your own thoughts.
you peered up through your weighted lashes, breath still uncontrollable. the intensity, it had your stomach jumping painfully, the eye contact both too much to handle and yet you never wanted him to look away, feeling scared it would be ripped from you before you could think.
“what’s wrong?” he asked again, softer, body inching closer, thumb pressing into your pulse once more.
you simply shook your head in response. you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. how could you? he let her fucking touch him. her hands, rubbing over the same skin that was now beginning to press intimately against you, as though he wanted it branded in his bloodstream.
the silence between you stretched, as he pushed, and pushed, and pushed. your chests were openly touching, his head dipped low to capture your eyes properly, legs intertwined now. had anyone walked past you both, they would have naturally assumed you were making out given the intimacy of the stances, the sheer nature of the way you were pressured into the wall.
you were suffocating from it. you couldn’t think. you couldn’t comprehend. not when the only thing you were seeing were her hands, a flicker of genuine anger and a roar of jealousy holding you hostage.
the words slipped out before you could really do anything about them.
“you let her touch you.” you whispered, voice fragile.
the three seconds of silence between you felt like a lifetime multiplied. your eyes widened as you comprehended what had just left your lips, a streak of fear gripping your heart. you watched his eyebrows furrow, head tilting just slightly as he absorbed your words.
the quiet dropped like a weight, as you watched in real time his features completely transform from that of someone intense to a man who felt too dangerous to be good. he darkened, eyes growing lidded, lips growing slack.
“what?” he calmly asked, as though your response held more power than anything else physically possible.
too calm. far too steady.
you shook your head immediately as it dawned on you what had truly left your lips. you had let out your deepest, darkest self in front of him simply because you were overwhelmed by his presence. stood, forced to the wall, body against body, breath mingling with breath.
“i..didn’t..no..”
“no.”
his hands left your wrists, slowly easing them down whilst maintaining eye contact. once your hands were down, immediately, his own brushed up to your face, both palms cupping your jaw possessively, pulling your chin upwards.
“say it again.” his voice was breathless.
his grip was neither gentle nor cruel, but you could feel it in every facet of your stomach. you couldn’t move, made to feel every inch of his darkened stare, whilst your own fingers gently gripped his wrists, shaking.
he knew exactly how much pressure to use against you. knew exactly what had you spiralling, and what grounded you, opting for a gentle mix of both.
you couldn’t help your emotions, feeling your bottom lip begin to tremble, eyes growing glassier by the second.
“you let her touch you..” your chest rose sharply, voice breaking at the end of your sentence. “she was..and you just..she was all over you.”
your lips pressed against one another harshly as a means to silence yourself, heart spiralling whilst your brain begged you to see reason, to quieten in front of him in fears of such harsh rejection.
you tried. you truly did. you didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to see.
but you were already gone. your voice had cracked, your eyes were already glassy, lip already trembling. it was as though he had cheated, indulging in another woman with his heart and soul when it had been nothing more than a fleeting touch, a norm for a place like this. you couldn’t rationalise that though, not when you were so deeply obsessive, so intensely fucked up in every way.
jungkook let out a loud, shaking breath.
you were heartbroken. over him?
he couldn’t believe it. he couldn’t fucking believe what he was hearing, what his eyes were seeing, what his heart was bouncing to. you? his sweet, gorgeous girl, so hurt because of a fleeting touch from a woman who he hadn’t even spared a proper glance at? he hadn’t reacted to her touch because he had barely computed it, as she meant nothing. was nothing.
to know a 3 second interaction had you about to cry, so bothered you had to physically remove yourself from the environment, shaking with each passing step. fuck, fuck fuck.
oh, you were the world and more. look at you, he thought, his head coming down to press against yours so gently, such a juxtaposition to the way he was holding you so firmly, so harshly as though you were ready to run away. a part of you was prepared.
his thumb pressed against your shaking bottom lip, as you tried so hard to hold your tears back, looking like a pathetic little baby. his baby.
“you didn’t like that.” he confirmed. not a question, but a clear cut statement, whispering it down at you to show you he understood.
you simply nodded, letting out a shaking breath, sniffling lightly. you felt fucking humiliated, your mental illness out for him to see in the ugliest of ways, all the whilst he cradled you like this wasn’t absolutely absurd - no one normal would have reacted the way he was reacting.
fingers began spreading over you, one hand leaving your jaw and travelling down to your neck, lightly wrapping. not squeezing, but merely holding.
you felt anchored.
“hey,” he nudged his nose against yours, breaths beginning to mingle from how close your faces were. “look at me.”
you listened, watery eyes meeting his.
the way he was looking at you confused you entirely. you were used to men looking at you because they wanted you, or because they wanted something from you - this was completely different. jungkook looked down at you as though you represented something deep inside of him, a look that you knew you held for him and him alone.
a look of full, unadulterated obsession.
“i didn’t touch her.” he promised, lips grazing your skin. “she touched you..” you corrected shakily, eyes begging to close at the feel of his touch.
“and i let it pass.” he promised, shaking his head lightly at you. “didn’t let it go on, didn’t give her nothing.”
your lips parted but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. he watched you think, watched it click in your brain, as though you were stranded in the desert, thirsty, whilst he brought you a pitcher of water.
“you think i’d let someone think they could have me?” he almost spat, as though the words were offensive. “when you’re there? sat there?”
your breath caught so sharply it hurt.
“what?” you whispered.
his gaze didn’t waver. “you heard me.”
he leaned in closer, his nose brushing openly against yours, nuzzling as the corner of his lips began to graze your own, your eyes falling shut immediately.
“i saw you. smiling at your phone.” he murmured, feeling your pulse quicken underneath his hand. “you think i wouldn’t notice? all my pictures, my notes, my text messages, my fucking call logs.”
your eyes shot open in shock. your lip began fully trembling now, a hardened noise leaving your chest as you held back a soft sob, scared at having been discovered. you knew this would ruin you, make sure you’d never even be able to have a friend again, never mind exist.
more importantly, you would lose him, jungkook, the object of your infatuations.
“hey. c’mon baby. it’s just me.” he shook his head at you, cooing. “it’s okay.”
a heavy tear escaped, dribbling down your face pathetically. “i-i..”
your body was shaking.
“it’s okay.” he reiterated, eyes deceptively kind, warmth plastered over you as he kissed over where your tear trailed. “i liked it.”
you let out a noise of confusion, a whimper paired with a shake of your hands.
“i like knowing you’re in there, looking at my stuff. i like it so fucking much.” he breathed, his own eyes closing momentarily. “just how i like knowing where you are.”
a sudden stillness enveloped you.
no longer were your limbs rattling, or your eyes widening - the tears remained, fresh and hot as your orbs began to overflow as though the words leaving his lips could have only been conjured in the faintest of dreams. jungkook was speaking, and yet your brain was barely comprehending, not quite understanding. he liked knowing where you were.
he liked knowing where you were.
he liked it.
the knowing.. what did that mean? what did that represent? what was he referencing, symbolising, alluding? your brain was failing you, and as bright as you were, you felt smaller than you had ever in the entirety of your life simply trying to keep up.
tears were streaming easily now, and he couldn’t help the soft coo he released, soothing you with gentle eyes as though what he was saying was normal, casual even. none of this was healthy, not from your side, especially not his and yet you felt your crumpled hands faintly touch upon his chest.
you couldn’t help the bloom of romance in your stomach.
how sweet, how romantic.
“what does that mean?” you asked him through your tears, fingers digging into his chest as a means to feel closer to him, almost shamelessly.
your question didn’t land lightly with him.
it didn’t drift between you, didn’t penetrate the clawing tension between you by softening the air or easing the lump in your throat. no, instead, it sank. heavy, thick, debilitating, you could almost feel your legs ready to give out despite the fact you were bordering on sobs, the fear of being found out slowly being replaced by something so much bigger, so much more compelling.
he didn’t answer you immediately.
instead, his hand on your throat tightened. slowly, not enough to cause you any semblance of pain, but enough to show you he was there, to remind you, to rid your brain of any thought that was now clouding your judgement. this was real. he wasn’t a figment of your sick fucking imagination, something to soothe the illness deep inside of you, the parasite that claimed you head from toe. he was real. this was real. you were real.
his thumb pressed into your jaw, harsher now, tilting your head up just a fraction, causing you to look into his gaze. his heart gave him away, however, as you felt it thud meanly against his soft skin. you felt so exposed, so on show, seen in a way where you could feel him inside of you.
his eyes dragged all over, committing each inch to painstakingly detailed memory, as though you were a prized jewel and he a mere sailor.
“you don’t know?” he murmured, voice low, laced with a somewhat sense of amusement - not mocking, but in a way that was clear he found you endearing. as though your tears and confusion were the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
your brows pulled together as a hiccup left you, tears still streaming with no intention to stop. you shook your head then, small, uncertain, and it finally had something inside him snapping.
“fuck.” he exhaled harshly, more to himself than you, his forehead dipping to gently brush against yours once more lingering as though it was hardly enough. like he needed to ground himself before the cracks in his very soul were laid to bare in front of you.
“it means,” he started slowly, “that i’ve been watching you a lot longer than you’ve ever even looked at me.”
your breath hitched.
a sharp involuntary noise, something you couldn’t control no matter how hard you tried, your fingers now digging into his chest as a means to regain some sense of control.
he noticed. of course he noticed. his lips twitched just fucking looking at you.
“don’t do that.” he whispered with an almost accusatory tone, head shaking. “don’t act surprised now.”
you shook your head, so much faster this time, as though you were fighting to prove your innocence despite it being the furthest thing from the truth. the shame inside you hurt, but he was here too soothe it.
“i don’t..i don’t understand..”
“you do.” he cut in firmly. he leaned in close to you, your breaths mingling as your lips sat mere centimetres away from one another. “you’re too smart not to.”
your lips trembled. he was right.
you did understand - perhaps not entirely, not in a way that had you deciphering his words, but the strain in his voice. the harshness that came with it. he was telling you something your brain often echoed over and over to you. he was showing you the same disease up close, and your mind recognised it, saw it for what it was, what it could be.
home.
you were a cocktail mix of thrill and fear, your fingernails digging so harshly into his skin that he was sure you’d break it, with small tiny cuts beginning to form, not that he minded. he felt branded by you, a fucking dream come true.
“the windows,” he continued quietly. “things that went missing, your clothes..fuck, your panties are my favourite. you started leaving them in places i’d find. started making it so much easier for me.”
you breathed harshly.
“you noticed all of it. i know you did, because i watched you, studied you. yet you haven’t said a word to anyone.” his words were a jumbled mess, as though he was making sense of it in front of you. “why?” he asked, so softly, so gently.
it was a question with only one answer - you were smart enough to know that. it seemed that he already knew, and yet, with the way he was holding you, the way you clung to him, he yearned to hear it from you. not for it to be coaxed, but for you to sincerely say it.
your chest rose and fell once more, eyes leaking beyond control as a horrible sob left your lips, finally broken, entirely ashamed. the words slipped out before you could stop them, before you could ever dampen them down from a mixture of embarrassment and pure humiliation at being caught, alongside a dangerous streak of want that truly couldn’t have lessened even if you tried.
“i..” your voice barely audible. “i didn’t want it to stop.”
you closed your eyes as your hands finally let him go, cuts in the shape of crescent moons tight into his chest as your hands flung to your face, cradling your features away from him through quiet cries.
you prepared for him to push you away, to sneer at you in disgust, into disappointment, into anything that resembled any form of sanity that any other person would have gladly shown you. the thought of losing something you had never truly even gotten to have despite needing it more than anything was enough to have your knees buckling, your body shaking.
what you didn’t expect, however, were the large hands on your body to cradle you so sweetly, pulling you into an even larger chest, so that your face was engulfed entirely by jungkook. both arms held you delicately, causing your brain to malfunction as your now reddened orbs looked up only to meet his, your breath stolen by the look of pure yearning.
oh, sweet y/n, he thought to himself.
it was as if you had written him a sonnet.
a soft smile was directed down at you as his beefy biceps caged you into his body, even softer kisses placed against your forehead. your hands were still hiding your face slightly, and though you couldn’t stop your crying, the look of confusion that he was met with was so endearing, he couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh.
“there she is..” he whispered down at you, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t place.
“hm?”
“i was wondering how long it would take until you finally showed yourself to me.”
“what?” you hiccuped.
your fingers slacked around your face as your body racked with a mixture of both half sobs, and harsh hiccups, your chest fighting for breath, all whilst your brain struggled to keep up, his touch intoxicating, burning into your skin. it was hard to comprehend this was even happening.
“you liked it.” he repeated, smile so earnest you would have thought you’d given him the greatest gift on earth.
his arms loosened around you, though his touch only got more and more daring. one hand slid up to your cheek, pulling you closer to him whilst the other took a hold of the back of your legs, sweeping you up in a notion that was far too easy, as though you weighed nothing.
the shock of suddenly being suspended into the air had you leaning into him immediately, arms flying around his neck as he simply led you into the bathroom, closing the door with his foot. instead of putting you down, you watched as he sat on the edge of the tub, sitting you down onto his lap, manoeuvring you like a doll without thoughts.
soon enough, your legs were on either side of him, your arms still wrapped around his neck, both of your barely clothed bodies pressed in a way that had you hiccuping again, a loss of air in your lungs now causing you to become light headed.
your chest was rising and falling, but he too matched you. it was like neither of you could believe this was real, that you were touching, existing, talking, holding one another like it hadn’t just been revealed you both liked to stalk each other.
the thump inbetween your legs got louder and louder until it was all you could feel, and from the way you were sat, you wanted more, wanted to sit a little forward until you were seated right against him, but the fear in your chest kept you rooted.
“don’t cry, baby.” he whispered, the quiet sound of music from downstairs echoing against the walls. “don’t be scared.”
you sniffled, eyes meeting his, fingers gently daring to brush against the back of his head where hair sat ready to be touched. his thumb pressed into your pulse on your wrist as his head pressed against yours, his body cradling yours as though you were the sweetest thing he had ever seen, his girl. his, sick, stalker girl.
“you just wanted to see me, right pretty girl?” he cooed down at you, causing you to nod through a hiccup. “nothing wrong with that. it’s just like i wanted to see you.”
your lips parted slowly, nodding, breathing still difficult. his words felt so comforting, the sickness inside your brain soothing now that it had been assured. you felt at home, so at peace.
your heart strummed harshly from the skin to skin contact as you peered at him almost nervously, your chest jolting from hiccups, your makeup utterly ruined. his words were also rattling in your brain, echoing from side to side as you tried to comprehend them, tried to understand them in a way that felt rational. instead, romance bloomed in your chest, the woman from earlier a distant memory as the same thing rolled in your mind over and over.
he just wanted to see you.
you.
all you.
for a moment, the world narrowed down to that simple truth.
you.
jungkook watched it in real time. your eyes began to droop, soften as you sniffled, lips still quivering with each passing moment. your hands on his neck lessened in grip, a sort of acceptance, a gentle comfort in the way you realised everything you had ever wanted was possibly here, right now.
this wasn’t fleeting, not like the attention you received daily from others. it stayed deep inside of you, wrapping around your ribs, curling around your heart until it suffocated you, precisely like what you had wanted.
“yeah,” he whispered, breathing in your scent, your perfume mixed with alcohol, eyes tracing your own. “that’s it, sweet girl.”
“i wanted it to be you.” you admitted in a small voice, no longer afraid, but still hesitant. “i knew things were being moved and taken in my room but..i didn’t want it to be anyone else.”
silence spanned between you, a moment of quiet in what had felt like an admission of the century.
your words hit him hard visibly, as he let out a shaking exhale, eyes shutting so tightly you could see the strain in his jaw. his hands shook as he held you, holding you much tighter suddenly - you couldn’t think outside of him. you watched him with bated breath, sniffling as your hands slipped from his neck, and instead slid down his chest.
“not anyone else.” he repeated finally, processing your words.
his own hands moved, no longer cradling you as they now moved to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, neither gentle nor rough. possessive.
“say that again.”
you blinked up at him softly. “hm?”
“say it again.” his voice sounded heavier, harsher, as though finally, your admission had undone him entirely.
your lips trembled. “..i..didn’t want it to be anyone else but you..”
and in that moment, you had ruined jungkook completely.
a broken sound left his chest, a cross between a laugh and a shaking breath, his head dropping forward as his grip on you tightened so much harsher, pulling you flush against him. you were pulled forward, pressing both of you against one another in a way that you could feel him against the flimsy denim of your shorts, the two of you unable to look away.
“fuck..” he whispered again, but for the first time, he sounded wrecked. overwhelmed. his nose brushed against yours, frantic now, like he didn’t know where to put himself. “do you know what that does to me? what you’ve just said to me?”
you broke the eye contact, peering down at how you sat so directly against him, brain pulling you in a million directions as you both lightly grinded your cores against one another. the action felt so natural that neither of you were even doing it consciously, your bodies simply doing it for you. the pleasure was low, but you could feel it heavy in your stomach.
it grounded you.
“i’ve been in your apartment for fucking months.” he admitted, no shame now, no hesitation, just honesty. “been watching you. installed cameras in your room, got one in your shower..fuck. my girl, aren’t you? my sweet, sweet girl.” he rambled, breathing in your scent.
you heart bloomed so softly, your eyes watering once more.
“waiting for you to notice..wanted you to notice so badly, y/n. i needed you to know it was me. didn’t even think you knew i existed.”
your quivering lips parted to let out a noise of rejection, as though the notion was insanity in itself. you had noticed him immediately.
“i see you, see all of you, and i want it. i want all of you, i want that sick fucking part of your brain because mine is sicker.” he admitted, voice so much harsher than before. “you’re all i think about, all i can ever see, i wake up, study, and watch you. that’s it. i orbit you.”
his other hand gripped your hips, grinding you harshly against him as his actions began to become readied, assured. he was playing with you purposefully.
“i like following you too. i know your coffee orders, know what sizes you wear, know where you like to study.” he whispered this, as though it was a secret only for you to hear. “you’re branded on me. took your panties every chance i got because it’s the only thing that gets me off anymore. need to feel you, need to feel close to you.”
a strangled noise left your throat, as you clung to him tightly, your own hips moving in unison as you tried to hold back your tears. your heart was ready to explode out of your chest from a mixture of overwhelming joy. the man of your dreams was picking you, the real you, openly because he too was like you. sick in the head.
“i didn’t touch that girl.” he added suddenly, tone suddenly filled with venom, a tone you had yet to hear from him. he was offended beyond belief. “i’d never touch another woman other than you, y/n. not when you’re right here.”
his words finally broke you, as you once more, burst out into deep sobs.
you were being seen.
you were being chosen.
every negative emotion that chained you to gaping hole in your mind was brushed away, letting the darkness exist finally within its own right. others would have demanded it to close, to hide away, to make sure they never even caught a glimpse of it.
jungkook wanted to nurture it. he was picking you, choosing you, based on it, because of it.
“you hacked my phone because you went looking for me.” he whispered, his own eyes glistening lightly, cooing as he wiped your tears earnestly. “baby..i..i’ve been building my life for you.”
“really?” you desperately asked through your cries, body shaking in his arms.
he nodded, chest rising and falling at the sight of you, his sweet, gorgeous girl.
“you’re not too far gone.” he promised. “you’re just finally catching up with me.”
the movement between you began to slow as you began to hold one another, finally giving in to your desires, your cheek against his bare chest, openly breathing in his scent as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed.
minutes later, when you had finally managed to calm, and his chest sat glistening from your tears, he pressed a soft kiss to your head, causing you to look up through sniffles and hiccups.
“you’re tired.” his thumb brushed under your eye, catching the dampness that still remained as though it personally offended him.
you didn’t think to argue. he was right.
not physically, more so something deep inside you. you could feel the exhaustion in your bones, deep inside your stomach, through the ridges of your brain - you felt both alive and dead all at once.
you simply nodded at him, causing a soft grin to form on his face.
“i want you to go home.”
your brows pulled together faintly like you didn’t quite understand.
home?
his hand slid down to your thigh, squeezing once gently. “go home, get in bed, don’t wait up, okay? just go.”
you stare at him. it felt like an instruction, felt like care.
“but..what about you?” you asked, voice croaky from your earlier cries.
his lips twitched into something small, a sense of assurance lifting in his shoulders, relief clear on his face from the way you pulled at him.
“i’ll watch you.”
you knew those words should have felt wrong, and yet, they settled inside of you like a kiss to the soul. your breath managed to steady for the first time that night.
“okay.”
no hesitations. no questions. no thoughts. no concerns.
his eyes darkened at the thought of you so pliant for him, as though you wanted him to simply think on your behalf, a role he was more than happy to fulfil.
within the next ten minutes, jungkook cleaned your tearful face of any mascara streaks, you had spoken to yejin who jumped up to take you home immediately, as a good friend should, and you were already in your apartment.
it took another half an hour to properly prepare for bed, but once you were, dressed in nothing more than tiny little panties and a tank, you felt safer than you had ever in your life. wrapped in the plush of your covers, your cute teddy bear sat somewhere on the bed, your washed hair pulled out of your face - it was the assurance that jungkook could see you right now that ultimately led you asleep.
he too had managed to get home, preparing for a nightly visit to his laptop. he had gotten it out, positioning it on his lap as he watched you sleep like a baby, all curled up, so sweet, so darling.
his weepy girl. he had just begun in telling you his feelings, but now, he knew it was time to actually show you. the thought had his stomach bouncing in knots.
—
life after the confession remained oddly the same. you were sure that a big tsunami of change would come, a pit of anxiety in your stomach forming at the unknown, and yet everything felt eerily familiar. once you realised it was because he had been a constant in your life, whether you realised it or not, from day one, it all became clear. you woke up each morning, knowing he was watching you, showered knowing he was watching you, ate your breakfast, brushed your hair, got dressed - all of it. you did it with the knowledge that he was watching you.
you didn’t expect it to feel so safe, so comforting. a constant state of surveillance would have upset anyone else, but to you? each time you woke up, knowing he was there, it felt like a declaration of unadulterated love. your heart bloomed to know jungkook cared for you so much he couldn’t ease a waking moment without you, even using you in the background when you slept just so he too could relax.
anytime you would catch him in the hallways, neither of you pretended anymore. you simply looked, stared even, fingers grazing secretly as an act of acknowledgment. you wanted him, he wanted you more but alas, the game was not done.
oh, not at all - why would either of you stop when he had just began?
to have you so willing was merely a bonus on top of everything.
the quiet between you and jungkook grew with each passing day, but with it, an assured comfort - you wanted more, as did he, but taking the first step was difficult when all you had known was one another in a different state. to hide in the shadows felt safer.
the announcement came on a grey, dark thursday, with misted clouds collecting in the sky, condensation heavy against the windows of your university campus. it was the sort of afternoon that made winter feel heavier, quieter. slower. students were half sleeping, half listening, whilst the scratch of pens and and laptop keyboards echoed throughout the lecture hall.
your professor droned on and on as you continued to doodle, as you had been doing for the past hour. his monotone voice filled the space whilst you peered over the dark screen of your laptop, positioned in its usual way to glance at jungkook any chance you got. again, though you couldn’t see his face, it didn’t deter you.
you continued marking your notebook as you long abandoned your physics work, instead opting to draw little loops of jk, jungkook and tiny hearts you blacked out, with the intention of doing more and more. all this whilst pretending to make notes on quantum states, a content look on your face.
pathetic, you knew, but there was a sense of security in knowing you didn’t have to hide anymore. there was comfort in it, and that made you feel good enough to not care anymore if anyone watched what you were doing. the guys who sat beside you were curious enough, always trying to flirt, always trying to get your attention - one look at your battered notebook and they got the message loud and clear.
you were halfway through tracing his surname next to your own name for the twentieth time that session when professor choi cleared his throat, demanding everyone’s attention.
“now, onto the research practicum. i don’t want to hear any of you whining about not being able to find someone to partner up with, so i’ve taken it upon myself to put you into pairs.” he said, adjusting his glasses. “no changes. no swaps. you’re all adults now, and i expect the best of your ability.”
everyone groaned around you, causing you to sigh quietly underneath your breath. you were sure you’d be paired with someone who barely knew anything, in hopes of supporting that student - you couldn’t be bothered to pick up the slack for two people, and so, you sat there, eyes closed, already feeling the low buzz of annoyance.
names were called, people either happy or hiding their frustration, causing you to cringe when you realised your name was up next.
you braced.
“y/n y/l/n, you’re with..ah, yes. jeon jungkook.”
a beat passed in the room.
your pencil dropped from your fingers, clattering against the table loudly before you moved to collect it instinctively, your shoulders raising high in a mixture of shock, confusion, alarm and suspicion. your body went still in a way that felt violent - not butterflies or nerves, but instead, something so much darker.
you could feel your stomach cave in itself as your professor continued rattling off names, heat rushing to your cheeks, chest, fingertips. shallow breaths left your lips as you nervously peered over your laptop screen to gauge something, anything.
only, he wasn’t there.
not in front of you, three rows down. not where you felt most safe seeing him, in the blur of the back of his head, face obscured and figure present. not where he always sat, broad shoulders hunched over a screen, fingers tapping in that restless, impatient rhythm you could sometimes hear if you strained hard enough.
your heart stuttered, almost pained.
was he..not happy?
immediately, your brain went into overdrive as your now shaking hands cupped one another, lip bitten hard to hold back the intensely overwhelming waft of emotions in your head, toying with the idea that he didn’t want to be around you. the game was over. he realised how deeply messed up you were. he hated you. he was disgusted by you. he thought nothing of you.
an almost whimper left your lips as you considered that you may have imagined it all entirely - that perhaps your brain, so primed to have everything circle back to him, had merely conjured it up.
your hands were shaking harder now as you tried to relax your restless body, the onslaught of your demeaning thoughts beginning to take over you, feeling the emotion rise in your throat and pull at your eyes. you looked down at your notebook, adorned with his name, almost ready to weep.
a chair scraped next to you.
slow. deliberate. purposefully harsh.
the sound cut through the room like a blade, a few people even turning to look at such a loud noise, some grumbling in annoyance and others turning away.
you, however, looked up, with teary eyes, letting out a small exhale of what could only be described as relief.
there he stood, jungkook, laptop gripped, bag slung over his shoulder whilst his notes sat comfortably in his notebook in his other hand. he was maddeningly calm, as though he had every intention of taking up all of your personal space, like it was his and his alone.
your entire nervous system felt ablaze as you watched him sit down, not bothering to spare anyone around you both a spare glance, ignoring the professor ahead, attention on you and only you.
he noticed the beads at your waterline, the way your lip jutted out gently in a quivering pout, all against your will. his chest tightened, half in awe and other half absolutely enamoured by how sweet you looked - there was nothing he loved more than seeing you up close and personal like this, but seeing you so visibly emotional?
he wasn’t a fool, especially when it came to you. he knew you inside out, knew that you liked to stare at him all lesson just above your laptop screen, and figured once you hadn’t seen him after being paired, your brain began assuming the worst.
his silly girl.
he knew, of course he knew.
the second he had sat down and caught the dew in your eyes, and the way you hid your trembling lip in that telltale way you had when emotion threatened to overspill, his very fucking soul tightened at the mere sight of you.
you had thought he didn’t want this. didn’t want you as his partner.
didn’t want you.
the idea alone was offensive to his personhood, a concept that felt both foreign and false - he couldn’t even fathom it. he knew you were different, and despite being equally as fucked up, you were still his angel girl who processed things differently to him. he knew obsession manifested in different ways but his heart genuinely pained at the thought of you so delicately upset at the thought of it being a reality.
his jaw flexed once. twice.
his things were put out properly, his laptop beside your own, as the other students in the room began to copy him, walking over to their partners. this gave a moment of private reprise between you as he looked, properly looked at you.
jungkook swore something animalistic stirred in his chest at the sight of you. so soft, so devastated, all for him.
he leaned in closer, inappropriate even, as your perfume wrapped around his brain so harshly he felt as though he was in your room, engulfed in your scent.
“hey.” barely a whisper.
your big eyes lifted, wet. so ruined.
he nearly folded. “look at me.”
he wasn’t commanding you, no. he couldn’t bring himself to do that when your brain was already being unreasonable, his voice carrying a tone of hurt that had you meeting his gaze immediately despite how you felt. you obeyed, of course you did, no matter how damp your lashes were.
you felt so embarrassed. you were emotional by nature, but this was different. he was different. you had never wanted anything more in your entire existence, and you were still grappling with the fact he knew about your filthy obsession for him - so much that your brain often failed you whenever you’d think about it for too long, rendering you useless. thus, the negative thoughts came running in.
“did you think i left?” he asked.
you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him.
that, however, was answer enough.
his eyebrows furrowed as a flash of hurt ran over his face, only making you nibble on your lip further as a means to stop the quivering, looking away momentarily before meeting his gaze once more.
“sweet girl.” he breathed, a reprimand heavy on his tongue. he sounded like heartbreak personified. “just moved so i could come sit next to you.”
the words landed heavily inside your chest, falling all the way into your heart and dripping down to your stomach, a sense of reassurance you weren’t expecting engulfing you. unfortunately for you, you felt your lip quivering so much more, as you desperately blinked the tears away, so embarrassed to be crying in front of him again.
you nodded a little, hearing his words, the relief soothing every crack you had created within mere seconds of overthinking. he watched you, watched your cute face, the way you sank into your chair, the way your hands clutched the messy notebook on your lap.
his eyes did a double take.
your notebook.
his lips parted as his gaze settled on the book inbetween your hands, and more importantly, the page you had been doodling in for god knows how long. you snuck a glance at him, eyebrows furrowing a little by the intense stare at your hands until you realised exactly what he was looking at.
your blood ran cold.
all those stupid hearts. his name. your name. both of your names together. his last name with your first name, decorated and coloured, worshiped as though it was the prettiest thing your fingers could bring yourself to spell. they were dreams in black ink.
your hands instantly moved to shut it, but you were way too slow. his palm covered the page before you could shield it from him, hand touching yours openly, both warm and possessive. you were struck by his touch, your entire body stilling once more as you felt the sparks ignite in your stomach, all whilst he pulled it away from your lap, and into his own.
he kept his hand against you, now sat in you lap, whilst his other hand flickered through the pages almost eagerly. too eager.
his hand on you traced your thighs, touching your fingers, holding them against his in a warm embrace, grounding you, feeling the rush through his veins just feeling you. he could see from the corner of his eye your shoulders had relaxed massively, but the anxiety on your face was still evident as he flicked through pages and pages and pages and pages of his name.
jungkook stared and stared and stared, fingers tracing jagged paper from where you’d gone over certain letters a hundred time to tattoo it to the book. a shaking breath left him as he looked over your name matched with his last name.
y/n jeon. fuck.
“looks right.” he whispered, under his breath, but your hypersensitive body caught it immediately.
you looked at him immediately, gaze intense as you watched him, listened to him. his tone had become so much rougher, a hint of desperation tinging every last sentence. your chest rose and fell harshly as you absorbed his words, every inch of your very soul clinging to it like a lifeline.
jungkook took a hold of your pen, letting go of your body for a moment, to which you almost chased it back with a whine. he angled it on the paper, on a completely new page, and began doing the same as you, writing out your name along with his last name, the action bringing him more pleasure than anything he had ever done in his life yet. he was breathing heavily, hands slightly shaky as he traced and traced and traced and traced.
bravely, you reached out for his arm, fingers pressing into the skin gently as your large, teary eyes brought him back to you. the small action of him affirming you only nurtured the growing parasite in your brain, confirming to you why he was worth obsessing over - he was everything.
instead, he took a hold of your hand once more, before slyly bringing it to his lips, kissing over your knuckles one by one. then, kissing your ring finger, as though it was an act of promise, his darkened eyes never leaving yours.
“that name,” he tapped against the book, “i’ll make it yours.”
you were relieved that the room was chaos, with people chatting loudly, moving around, the professor still looking through his notes, allowing you both to converse freely, as you took a sharp intake of breath.
what better gift to a sick mind like yours and his, than a promise of eternity?
“really?” you managed to choke out, desperately fighting tears back as you begged yourself not to cry, not again. you just couldn’t help it. you felt so weepy around him.
“the plans i have for you, y/n..” he shook his head lightly, as though offended you would ever even think otherwise. “gonna get us a house, a ring on your finger. our kids, our pets.”
with each word, you watched a look of genuine bliss overcome him, as he shifted in his seat, as though the thought of such a dream life, his guaranteed future, aroused him to a scary degree. you could see the tent in his sweats begin to form, as he rolled his shoulders, legs wide enough to carry no shame. you, on the other hand, had shifted so much closer to him, your bodies now sat side to side, your hips touching, his hand intertwined to yours and pressed into your lap.
“i want all of that.” a tiny wounded noise left you at the end of your sentence, as you finally looked down at your hands, holding his tighter. “so badly..”
jungkook was fucking enamoured by you. his sweet, angel girl - your heart was too big for your body. look at the way you got all upset at the prospect of everything you had wanted confirmed. god, it had him hardening by the second, moving your tied hands over his bulge as both a means to hide it and to simply feel your touch.
you nuzzled against it immediately, though the action was hidden by the notebook by any prying eyes. his jaw hardened as he looked down at you, watching, observing, the two of you a sight for sore eyes indeed.
in the background, your professor dismissed you all as he gathered his own things, but neither of you made an effort to move, too busy caught up in each other’s feel, as your fingers caressed his hardened bulge. not enough friction to get him off, but your curiosity, your light touch - it felt better than anything. paired with those teary eyes? fuck, jungkook was ready to scream.
the room emptied pretty quickly, and no one, again, speed either of you a glance. the two smartest students paired together? it was obvious you just wanted to situate yourself in your partnership, and so, soon enough, you sat alone in a large, echoing room.
he couldn’t stop staring at you.
he moved the book, pushed it onto the table before letting go of you entirely, though your touch remained on him. he grabbed your chair and yanked, pulling it until you all but practically fell onto him in proximity, grunting lightly under his breath at the feel of you all over.
“mm. my girl, aren’t you?” he whispered lowly, as his thumb reached out to trace your bottom lip. “my soon to be wife. it’s inevitable, baby. it has to happen.”
you nodded through his words as you sniffled a little, your emotions catching up to you. “and you’ll be my husband, forever and ever?”
“always. fuck.” he nodded immediately, eyes closing for a second at your words. “why do you think i work so hard, hm? gotta give you the life you deserve, y/n, gotta make sure you get everything you ever want.”
silly boy, you wanted to scream into his face, as your lip quivered once more, a lone tear finally escaping as it rushed over your cheeks. all you fucking wanted was him. you didn’t care if you were in a run down shoebox for the rest of your life - as long as he was there, and he was yours, then it was fine. he belonged to you.
you felt overwhelmed. you felt like you were barely together.
jungkook’s expression changed evidently - not soft, never that. he seemed determined.
his hand tightened against yours, as though he was trying to understand how you had ever even reached your original conclusion, as though he genuinely couldn’t understand the way your brain worked despite it mirroring his in so many different ways. how had your brain turned the inevitable of him and you, into a mere possibility? you had no choice in this, didn’t you understand?
and so, without really thinking, his hands darted out for you. one on your waist, the other on your hip, lifting you with a practised ease and straight onto his lap, hearing your strangled gasp and not caring a second. his girl crying over him? a concept that typically would have had him snapping his hips into yours meanly, but this was different. how much more did he need to do, to get you to understand?
your legs sat on either side of him, your cute skirt flowing on each side of you too. he pushed you right against him, your lips parting in shock as you could feel him directly against you, bulge against damp panties, your teary eyes now forced to look up at darkened ones peering down at you.
“your brain is making you think stupid shit, y/n.” he said, almost meanly, though the way he was caging you in, the way his head dropped to yours was anything but. “what part of this made you think i don’t want you?”
“no..it’s just..you moved and..”
he sighed a little, thumb pressed onto your lip once more as he lightly shook his head at you. he was pushing, and pushing, until it slipped into your mouth, resting it on your tongue.
the heaviness had you wrapping your lips around it instantly as you stared at one another, your tongue lapping at it gently, though you teary eyes remained. it felt charged, sexual by nature and yet given the circumstance you were in, it was so much deeper.
“listen to me.” his tone dropped as his eyes darkened, earning him an obedient nod as you continued to lick and suck lightly, all whilst he cradled you into his lap like you were the sweetest thing on earth. “there isn’t a scenario, a factor. anything. that could make me not want you, y/n.”
his voice felt mean, harsher than you’d ever heard it, but with the way your shoulders slumped, it was exactly what you needed.
“no scenario could stop this. you could change your mind tomorrow and decide you don’t want this, baby, and i still wouldn’t fucking stop, you understand me?” he pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth. “there’s no escaping me. no escaping any of this.”
you nodded again, just as he removed his thumb from your mouth, panting lightly at the sight of a thin string of saliva connecting you and his digit. he’d replay that memory tonight.
“need you stop thinking.” he whispered then, just as your arms clambered up, wrapping them around his neck to pull him in closer, breathing in his scent. “keep working yourself into circles that don’t exist..i’m right here.”
your entire body eased, like a switch had been flipped and all of your negative thoughts had finally been eradicated. his voice, his presence, that heaviness to his voice - it all softened the hardened edges of your brain, causing you to practically slump in his arms. he could feel it too, from the way your tightened grip lessened, but you grew more comfortable in his arms.
you looked so pretty, he thought, as he properly took his time in examining you. a touch of makeup, your sweet pink jumper, a cute shirt peaking out from underneath and white skirt, you were the epitome of adorable - he wanted nothing more than to preserve you like this forever, all flushed cheeks and gentle eyes. this was why he was so deeply infatuated, how could he not be?
“this is new.” he muttered quietly to himself as his hands tugged at your jumper, fingers playing with the hem before sliding underneath, just to touch against your skin directly.
you blinked up at him. “hm?”
he was taking it in, looking at the way your skirt had bunched due to the way you were sat so intimately against him. he could feel the dampness from your panties, and though he was obsessive, he was a gentleman first - he simply pushed his bulge firmer against you to offer some relief.
the pretty sigh that escaped you was enough to have him offering you a slight smile, so enamoured by his gorgeous girl.
“you didn’t have this before.” he tugged at your jumper.
your heart boomed at his attention of detail - no doubt after months of breaking into your bedroom and going through all your things. fuck, it was so romantic it hurt.
“i just got it yesterday. do you like it?” you asked a little shyly.
“fucking love it, baby. love it so much.” his response was immediate, causing a big smile to form on your face almost instantly.
now that. that floored him.
he couldn’t help but match the grin on your face with a huff of amusement, enjoying how quickly your mood had changed from a single compliment. he’d be sure to do it more often.
“been staring at you the whole lecture, couldn’t focus on anything else.” he admitted through his own grin. “you look so cute.”
your hands met at the back of his neck, playing with the stray hair that had grown too long, your smile doing enough to brighten his entire day. the mood had shifted between you, something akin to playfulness as you quietly conversed, despite your intimate position, small giggles leaving you whilst he whispered things, allowing for a moment of ease. this was new, and outside the realm of heavy emotion you were both used to.
it felt fresh, rewarding even, to be able to just talk to him without your brain whizzing a million miles per hour. it felt good, and just looking at him, you could tell he the felt the same tenfold. he made a comment that had you giggling even louder, your head thrown forward towards his shoulder to which he too, matched you, laughing quietly, ego skyrocketing from the way he could make his girl laugh.
fuck. knowing all of these months of such meticulous stalking had led him to here, right now? he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
his laughter softened first.
not fully gone, but quieter, like it had gotten caught somewhere in his chest whilst admiring you, his sheer emotion for you so much bigger, suffocating it down. his hands beneath your jumper, holding onto your skin so firmly stilled as he tilted his head back, listening.
footsteps.
voices.
faint at first, but growing louder in the hallway outside.
you didn’t notice, not when you were too busy tucking into him, too comfortable, too content. you felt settled in a way you had never felt before, breathing in his scent whilst mumbling something about the project, light little comments without thought.
he noticed though, of course he did. his blood boiled at the thought of someone interrupting you when you were so soft, so relaxed - jaw tightening. you were in your own world, completely unaware of reality that sat just behind double doors metres away.
fuck.
he didn’t want to move you.
didn’t want to shift you when you were so happy perched on him, lightly grinding your core against him for relief, all the whilst keeping up normal conversation - you were the epitome of sweet, all warm and soft and exactly right.
but he wasn’t about to allow anyone see this. see you like this.
“hey.” he murmured, quietly.
he watched as you hummed, not pulling away, not even bothering to look up from your position - just nuzzling closer like you hadn’t heard a thing.
his mouth twitched with fondness.
“baby.”
that got you.
you lifted your head slowly, blinking at him, dazed, as though you had been pulled from a dream like state.
“we gotta move.” his thumb traced your cheek.
you shut your eyes tight immediately, with an almost bratty shake of your head, going back to your position immediately. “no..i don’t wanna.”
that did something to him.
he bucked his hips into you, causing a low whimper to get stuck in your throat. he nuzzled his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent intimately as he rubbed your back.
“yeah..i know.” he said, more to himself than anything.
unfortunately for you both, the voices outside the room were only getting louder, meaning people would be walking in any moment now. he made the decision then.
one hand slid from under your jumper,smoothing it down properly - almost subconsciously. he knew you didn’t like to look dishevelled, always appearing perfect no matter where you went, and despite your dazed brain, he would keep that up for you of course.
“c’mon.” he whispered, watching your arms tighten around his neck with a frown as he picked you up just as he stood, easing you back down onto your feet himself.
the pout on your face had him almost groaning out loud from how cute you looked, with a face of genuine upset lining each of your features at having to leave such a soft state. you felt so good, and now it was all over, a horrible sinking feeling filling your tummy at the thought. he couldn’t bare to look at you like this, not when he was half hard and sporting a small wet patch on his crotch from where you had been lightly grinding, and certainly not when you were looking at him like he was capable of hanging the moon and stars.
“you wanna go home?” he asked you, quiet, as he gathered both of your things.
you nodded, dejected at the thought of the day coming to a close with him, unsure of whether to reach for his fingers now you could actually hear people outside. you weren’t sure what to do now you had broken another wall between you.
your fingers twitched at your side, like your body was fighting an internal battle - one half desperate to grab him, the other half still battling the normalcy you had both been playing into for weeks.
jungkook noticed, of course he did.
his eyes dropped to your hands, the way you were shuffling them, before he shifted closer, arm sliding around your waist with ease. he held all of your things in one hand whilst you slipped your half empty bag over your shoulder, one hand on him at all times, holding him tight to you.
his jaw flexed, subtly, thinking too much for a man who had spent his entire life finding answers coming naturally to him.
“i’m coming with you.” he said, with a tone of finality.
your breath caught.
you looked up at him, eyes lighting up more than he had ever seen, face filled with a level of excitement that had him softening in front of you. his shoulders slumped lightly at the sight, a faint smile forming at the way you looked up.
“really?”
“yeah.” he nodded, laughing lightly. “come on.”
his hand slid down to properly intertwine with your own before he pulled it up to his lips, planting a soft, buttery kiss so faintly on the back of it, you wondered if he had done it at all. he led you to the doors, large back almost hiding you completely due to your size difference, something that had your brain leaking with every chance.
the hallway was much busier than either of you had expected, confirming his decision to get up when you did. the thought of anyone else seeing you so pliant truly made him angry, the deep, sadistic part of his brain igniting at the sheer idea.
you couldn’t help the soft smile that was present on your face as you looked at your intertwined hands, biting back a bigger grin as he led you through, not sparing anyone else a single glance. you were the most popular girl on campus, someone who rarely dated, never gave anyone a chance, especially not people that were deemed to be on your social calibre and yet here you were, hand in hand with a nerd from your physics class.
to say people were staring was an understatement.
your heart was beating out of your chest as you felt jungkook squeeze your hand, offering you a look as he pulled you flush against him. the both of you walked beside one another, all whilst people whispered, some gawking, others analysing you both in genuine confusion. none of them knew.
none of them understood the sick fucking idolisation you both had interlaced into each other’s minds.
he dipped his head as you walked to the entrance, this thumb still caressing your head. “you look so fucking pretty.”
your stomach flipped.
“you already said that.” you flushed with a gentle pat to his arm, something that had his dimpled cheek on show.
“and you deserve to hear it again.” he said almost casually, causing you to giggle behind your hand, flustered beyond belief.
by the time you reached the exit, the air around you felt so much different. it felt charged, both cold and sharp, and yet it did nothing to cool your overheated body. if anything, you felt even more aware of him as you left the safety of your shared campus and out into the real world, out into reality where things were so much harsher - more real.
his hand. you were hyper aware of it now.
the way it refused to let you go even as he pushed the door open for you, guiding you through like it was an instinct. despite the heavy stares, he remained dismissive of everyone else, it meant little to him after all. he wasn’t used to the looks, but it came with the territory - you were the hottest girl on campus, and you were all fucking his.
you both slowed on the steps. not completely, but enough to have you coming to a pause.
you looked up at him, all starry eyed. “my place..or?”
and there it was. jungkook’s jaw twitched, his eyes darkening instantly as he took a heavy step towards you.
“mine.” no hesitation.
your breath hitched, lips parting.
“it’s closer.” he explained. “and i don’t feel like waiting.”
your stomach was flipping violently as all you could give him was a pathetic nod, fingers clinging to him harsher than ever.
and this time, when he pulled you close, leading you to his car that was parked relatively nearby, there was no hesitation whatsoever. jungkook was a man starved, finally about to take his fill - every inch of you. all his
—
stepping foot into jungkook’s apartment was exactly what you assumed it would be.
he was a meticulous person by nature, and as a result, his living space depicted that clearly - rows of bookshelves all neatly arranged, whilst the decor remained minimal and clean, tones of navy and cream throughout. there were little things, things that didn’t quite match if anyone else had walked in, but to your eye, you understood immediately.
a pink and white throw sat on the edge of the couch, folded. you recognised it to be the exact one you had conveniently ‘lost’ two weeks ago. rows of candles sat among the bookshelves, some completely used, scents you recognised as the exact ones you’d often buy. it wasn’t until you looked closer that you realised they really were the candles that were once in your own room.
you turned to look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips.
he met your gaze, quiet, simply watching, examining even, to see your reaction. to see the romance flourish from behind your eyes felt assuring in ways he didn’t realise he could feel, and yet here he was.
he watched as you put your bag down, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, already feeling comfortable. you couldn’t explain it, but being here felt the epitome of safety, and you knew that was his exact intention, a soft sigh of content leaving your lips as you took a few steps forward, your shoes by the door.
“smells so nice.” you murmured quietly, looking over your shoulder as you walked into his space properly.
“i bought the diffuser you like.” he responded smoothly, watching a smile pull at your features in real time.
“you’re so cute.” you squeaked, hands rushing to your own cheeks as though you couldn’t take it. instead, his darkened eyes narrowed. “don’t call me that.”
you ignored him, letting out an exaggerated sigh of fondness as you walked into his kitchen next, fingers brushing against his clean counters, peering at the snacks on his dining table.
“these are my favourite sweets.” you hummed absentmindedly, picking up the pack of sour cherries.
he didn’t respond, causing you to turn on your heel, to peer over and see where his attention lay. upon looking at him, you noticed a gentle dusting of pink on the tops of his cheeks, his ears stained red. it wasn’t that he had any shame in stalking you, non whatsoever - this just felt different. it felt domesticated, or as domesticated as it could get between people as fucked up as you both.
your scents, your candles, your blanket, your favourite snacks. it was like his space was curated in mind of you and you alone. as though his only thought process was that everything in his life went back to you anyway, and so it naturally made sense to come home to something that felt like you. of all the things he had done, all the things he had said, it was this. this that truly made you feel wanted.
and so, once you stopped your thinking, you found yourself walking back over to him, all as he watched, stood, examining you. his eyebrows lifted in partial shock as you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him to you as though you were a koala desperate to be held.
he immediately reciprocated.
his arms wrapped around you also, holding you close to his chest as you snuggled deeper, breathing in his scent almost hungrily. as your eyes met, he couldn’t help but stare at the freckles held in your eyes, something choking him from the inside from the mere look you gave him.
you were transcendent, beyond belief and theory - he knew in his heart of hearts he wasn’t worthy of one inch of you, and yet he would never let you go. you were all his, until his dying breath.
“it feels different to what i thought it would be like.” you admitted, in a small voice, eyes cast down to his stomach momentarily before resuming your stare at him.
“what?” he rasped, voice tight.
you let silence settle between you for a second.
“i’ve always wanted you. i just..i don’t know, i guess i never thought of there being a reality where this could actually work, i mean.. i didn’t exactly think you’d be like me.” you confessed, eyebrows slightly knitted.
it was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow.
“you could have had me,” his voice sounded rough. “you could have had me the moment you saw me.”
“not in the way i wanted.” you immediately shook your head.
he looked confused.
“it’s hard to explain, okay? i don’t know.” you sighed a little as one of his hands lifted, cupping your cheek. “just always thought that i’d have to hide this side of me so i wouldn’t scare you away, and now that this is real and it’s happening, i just..i never expected it to be like this. it feels different.”
he absorbed your words.
he understood them, of course he did. he differed from you openly - he had always known that if he was to get a taste of your company, he’d keep you shackled to his obsession under lock and key. you, however, were so sweet, so darling - how could he listen to your words without his heart aching so gently?
“no matter how disturbed you feel by your own brain,” he whispered then, thumb tracing your cheek. “no matter how fucked up, just know that i’ve done it too. i’ve done worse and just because i have you, it doesn’t mean i’ll stop. you know that, right baby?” he almost cooed.
your eyelashes fluttered gently, as though you were being told a fucking lullaby.
“promise?” you asked.
instead of responding, jungkook released your face, instead planting the sweetest of kisses to your forehead, breath slightly shaky as he pulled away. taking a hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers, he stepped back slowly but surely. your eyebrows knitted as you watched him edge towards another door, one you assumed was his bedroom.
he didn’t rush you. never. it wasn’t in his nature to make you despite his certainty - so used to being unyielding in every other aspect of his life. every move felt measured, calculated, as though whatever sat behind the door of his bedroom held more weight than anything you were able to conjure.
“c’mere.”
you followed without question.
his room was dimmer than any other part of his apartment, with blinds drawn to only allow for small slivers of sunlight to bleed over his oak flooring. everything sat in its place meticulously, almost too well, with his large bed made to perfection, his clothes cung, ironed crisply and his desk.
his desk sat in the corner of the room, and though the space was large, it took up a considerable chunk considering the three monitors that sat idly, waiting to be turned on.
his space was odd. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but a small part of you assumed that he kept it pristine on purpose - perhaps in hopes that it would be ready always for you. you nibbled away on your bottom lip, eyes taking in everything as he continued to lead you inside, your scent seemingly everywhere. it mingled with his own.
your brain went blank as he turned to face you, properly now, leading you over to his chair, rolling it out lightly before taking a comfortable seat. you watched him, head tilted, almost ready to question what he was doing before his arms darted out at you.
large hands grabbed at your waist, pulling you back until you were being pushed onto his lap. he situated you so your back touched his chest comfortably, a position you were very quickly enjoying as you could feel his hands quite literally all over you.
you felt secure, safe. you felt entirely whole in his arms like this, so much so that you let out a soft sigh, just as his head dipped. his lips began grazing the skin of your neck, letting out his own deep exhales, breathing in your scent so openly it had your thighs trembling. he could feel it. could feel all of you. you on his lap, snuggled into him, his aching cock already nestled against you. you felt like home.
the shaky breath that escaped you pleased him greatly, as it acted as direct confirmation of how you felt. just like he did.
“eyes on the screens, baby.” he whispered down at you, catching you staring at him over your shoulder. “c’mere. got something to show you.”
you properly rested against him now, watching as one of his hands darted out to the mouse, his computer finally turning on.
the shy smile that formed as you watched him type in his password, your name, to access his desktop was beyond anything. he could feel the way you curled into him deeper, even going so far as to grind against him lightly. enough to have him bucking up at you, but also not enough to ever claim anything other than mere innocence.
you watched as the screens came to life, jungkook clicking a few things, moving others around as he took his time in whatever he awaited to show you. you were beginning to get restless, moving around on his lap, nibbling away on your lip a little more - you had all of his attention and yet you wanted so much more of it, until you were fully overwhelmed.
“stay still.” he let out a sudden hiss.
you flushed.
you hadn’t realised that your panties were practically stuck to you, skin to skin, from how wet you were getting. from the moment in the classroom until now, you had been horny, that was for certain, but this was different. jungkook had yet to even kiss you, and yet you were grinding yourself on his cock like it was the most normal thing in the world.
suddenly, you were brought out of your haze, your hips stilling for a second as you tried to comprehend what your eyes were seeing before you on the screens.
was that..?
your gasp was loud enough to echo around the room, as jungkook’s hands now sat firmly against your stomach, refusing to let you go, despite what was directly in front of you.
your room.
the camera angle was situated to the top of your wardrobe, tilted so it had the perfect angle of your entire room, most notably your bedroom. your bed still sat in the way you had left it, done, with your teddy sat comfortably in the middle. your makeup station was as messy as always, as you had ran slightly late, causing you to assure yourself you could just clean it when you were home.
the flashing red dot in the corner was what had you struggling to breathe.
live?
“jungkook.” your breath caught, sharp and fragile, like it might shatter had you moved whatsoever.
he continued planting kisses to your neck softly, guiding upwards until he reached your jaw and cheek. “keep looking, baby.”
the second screen shifted. your bathroom. notably, your shower.
this one sat high, connected to the ceiling of your shower, tilted downwards so it was all it could see. that had you gasping even louder as you lurched forward, his grip breaking on you as you examined the screen from up close. a sick part of him wanted to punish you for leaving his arms so easily, but he draw an exception - you were too cute when you were shocked.
your heart began pounding out of your fucking chest. not out of fear, not quite - something else, something much heavier. something that made your skin tight with want, the very parasite in your brain singing loudly as it interpreted this in the only way it knew how.
jungkook loved you.
you could see it now, see it clearer than ever, as your throat began to constrict, holding back a wave of emotion you truly weren’t ready for. you leaned back into his arms after a few moments, to which he simply watched you watch the screens, as though this was the exact moment he had waited for.
it was.
god. jungkook had never been harder watching the realisation settle into your face, into your body. he told you, he had told you from the second he had revealed himself to you that he liked to watch you. you had no idea to what extent, but of course the following you around grew tired after a while.
no, see, he needed something else. something entirely his, that infringed on your very personal being - he wanted to take something from you so it could become his too, shared. he chose your privacy.
you turned to him then, eyes filled with teary wonder, a shaky smile forming on either side of your lips.
“you watch me?” you asked, desperate to hear it confirmed on his lips.
to that, he simply tugged you closer to him, firmly pressing you on his cock once more. “all the time. always.”
you shuddered, fingers clinging to his own that clutched your body. you didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to voice the utter devotion trapped in your throat, not when he was so openly displaying his own. you genuinely believed this to be the most romantic thing anyone had ever one for you, and with the way your pussy soaked him through multiple layers, he knew.
“when you sleep,” he murmured almost thoughtfully, “you curl into your pillow. “cutest thing i’ve ever fucking seen.”
you couldn’t speak. not when your heart was pounding so hard.
“and when you shower..” his eyes shut for a moment, as though imagining. “fuck, baby. you can’t blame me, right? all that water over these tits.”
he was whispering into your ear, rough hands suddenly travelling up to cup your breasts, both engulfing as though it was his every right. you breathed out, immediately closing your eyes at the feel of him massaging, pulling, cupping, squeezing.
you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. you were staring at your own bedroom, your most intimate space, all whilst he sat, all but worshiping you within the four walls of his own. he continued planting kisses to your neck, your cheek, your head, breathing in the scent in your air whilst long fingers began to unbutton your shirt, pushing your jumper up to your chin, revealing skin with each passing movement.
you let him. of course you did. this was every dream and fantasy all in one.
cold air brushed against bare breasts as he pulled your lacy bra down, just enough to release them, his hands immediately returning to them to provide the attention you deserved.
you let out a smooth whine, all whilst he too huffed under his breath, as though he couldn’t fathom he was touching you like this. he nuzzled his nose into your hair, just as your head tipped back, his fingers circling your nipples, pulling at them gently.
“like watching you play with them..” he whispered then in your ear. “kills me every time.”
“hm?” you let out, watching him toy with you.
“never enough though, is it? need me to do it for you.”
you nodded at that, albeit slightly desperately as you felt your mouth salivate. his hands started to toy with you harder, pushing his hands against your skin as a means to brand you. you could feel it, his silent, invisible mark - it was tattooed onto your very soul, something you were beginning to wear with pride.
“how much..do you watch?” you asked through a breathy moan, as you felt his body shift.
one arm slipped down to your waist, continuing the grinding with ease whilst one hand remained on your boob, pulling, cupping. his mouth dropped to your shoulder, planting kisses on bare skin before sinking his teeth slowly into a bite, marking you physically.
“mm..” he grunted, feeling pleasure up and down his body as all of his blood rushed to his cock, forcing it to strain uncomfortably against his sweats. “every night, i like watching you play with your cunt. your fingers are so small though, never quite hits where you need it, right?”
his words had your brain swimming as you let out a loud moan, fingernails digging into skin. he was spewing filth into your ears, feeding that dirty disease inside of your brain, fostering it. nurturing it.
you shook your head in agreement at his words, only getting wetter and wetter with each passing minute.
the thought of him watching you every night as your fingers plunged in and out of yourself, your thoughts plagued with him and him alone. what he would do to you, how he would treat you, all before you had ever even exchanged a word with him. the frequency of your secret masturbation escapees only got higher and higher after the party, knowing he too was attracted to you.
it all felt like too much and not enough, causing you to turn in his hold. his hands on you dropped as you slid, moving your legs so you were now straddling him, face to face, his eyes finally meeting yours.
you didn’t want to wait, not when he had just shown you the most romantic thing you had ever seen, whispered heartfelt secrets and touched you intimately - enough was enough. you had played the long game, he even longer, and it was time for something to give before your brain shut down completely.
and so, you grabbed jungkook by the face, before pressing your lips against his.
the kiss was unlike anything you had ever experienced, or expected. at first, you took charge, as shock filtered through every running vein of jungkook’s body, his brain unable to compute his reality. that only lasted a few seconds, until he sat up properly, grabbing you with haste and pushing you against his desk, kissing you back with a reverence.
it was neither soft nor gentle, but rather everything you needed it to be.
you tugged him closer as he too did the same, your mouths moving in unison, bodies grinding, using one another. you couldn’t keep your hands off of him and he didn’t bother even trying to fight it, yanking your jumper and shirt off of you completely now, letting it fall somewhere onto the ground, the cool air hitting your skin. you were left in your skirt and underwear, but you watched as he yanked your bra off as though it was a nuisance, finally freeing you completely.
only then did he part from your lips, lowering his head to properly ravish your breasts.
he couldn’t help the loud groan as he bit against your nipples, sucking on them to soothe, only to do it all again. fuck, you were so sweet, even the taste of your skin was enough to have his mind race. he couldn’t bring himself to decide what to do, going between one breast in his pith, to kissing you once more, passionately pushing you further into the desk until it was beginning to bite, only to return to your other breast.
purpled hickeys were beginning to form all over you as he created a constellation, a physical declaration of his feelings for you, a masterpiece made entirely of you and him.
“please.” you begged him, grinding harsher and harsher.
it wasn’t enough. the pleasure would catch, only to be subdued, causing you to faster and faster and yet it wasn’t enough stimulation to get you even close to orgasming for him. he was genuinely breathless at the sight of you, grabbing your hips and lifting you immediately.
he led you to his bed, dropping you in a far gentler manner you were expecting - you, however, grabbed him by his t-shirt and tugged him down before pushing it off of him.
your breath caught as he watched your expression, your shaking hands tracing the tattoos on his arm, the chest and shoulder piece that felt fresh, you fingers trailing over him hungrily. you remembered seeing him like this for the first time at the pool party, how undone you had been at the sight as though it was beyond your wildest imagination - now here you were, underneath him, ready to be ruined.
“look at me.” he panted, nose pushing against yours to get your eyes on him. you obliged. your gazes met, heavy and heated, hands still running over him. “after this..there’s no going back.”
“i know.” you whispered, nodding, knowing the implications of what was to come.
“you’re mine. publicly. visibly. everyone will know.” he fought the burger to capture your lips as he watched you exhale so sweetly, as though what we was saying was music to your ears. “need you to think baby. is that what you want? honestly?”
at that, you pulled him down once more, your lips capturing his in surprise for the second time that day. he melted against yours as your lips moved softer than ever, a gentle but knowing kiss shared between you.
you pulled away slowly. “you’re all i want. i don’t wanna hide how i feel anymore.”
jungkook closed his eyes, still hovering over you as he let out a shaking breath, chest visibly shuddering at your words. god, you were like his personal brand of drug - he could feel you in his blood stream, infusing.
seeing the effect on him had your eyes almost watering, but the need in your stomach was so much bigger. so much harsher.
and so, you tugged at his joggers, as a means to get his attention once more, to which you succeeded as he immediately caught your jaw with his mouth, instead leaning down to remove your skirt immediately. you were left in nothing more than your utterly soaked panties, your legs wide and spread, unable to look away from him.
he let out a loud groan as he parted from your arms, not with resistance of course as your nails dragged against his biceps. he moved down, until he was sat on his knees between your legs, grabbing your thighs and yanking you down the bed with his hold.
you squealed at the sudden movement, only to squeak again when you suddenly felt his nose push against your sensitive clit, all through your clothed cunt. your chest began to rise and fall at the sight of him doing the one thing you had dreamt so regularly of, the way he was openly breathing you in.
god, it was so messed up. he was freaked out beyond belief but he didn’t give a fuck, breathing in his favourite scent. “you know how many panties i’ve stolen from your hamper just to be able to smell this? fuck.”
his words had you flushed from your cheeks to your toes.
“d-don’t say that!”
his eyes met yours.
“used to wrap them around my cock thinking of you, baby.” he practically cooed at you, as he planted pepper kisses to your clit, before finally pushing the material to one side.
you couldn’t even let his words sink into your brain as he finally launched. his mouth attacked your weeping pussy as though you owed him something, and a part of you acknowledged it - he had been sniffing your panties, wrapping them around his cock, pumping in your bed to the thought of you and your scent but now? actually tasting you? he thought he was going to die.
the moans you were letting out echoed onto the walls, and jungkook smirked, knowing they were thin as paper. his friends all lived on either side of him, all in shared apartments whilst he lived alone. though they were not privy to the extent of his perversion, they were well versed in the knowledge of you and his utter devotion. they knew he’d never bring any other woman other than you into his home.
he continued his attack. sucking on your clit to begin with, tracing letters, humming, teeth slightly grazing which had you jolting out of pure stimulation before he pinned you back onto the bed. your hands rushed into his air, desperate for a semblance of comfort that only he could provide.
it took you a full minute to realise what he was spelling out on your poor pussy.
he was telling you he loved you, with v’s and o’s and i’s all curated to bring you closer and closer to cumming on his tongue, all whilst a finger began to prod at your entrance. within seconds, he inserted, letting it go as deep as you could take it, causing you to let out a loud whine.
you were being forced still on the bed, with one hand on your stomach pinning you down, all the whilst jungkook attacked. he pumped and licked, only to insert another finger whilst you were still getting adjusted to one.
you had been with other guys, sure, all before jungkook was even a thing in your mind. none were very good with their hands, or anything for that matter, and so you had come to terms with the fact sex would always be boring for you.
having him inbetween your legs, pleasuring you, all whilst he rutted into the bed himself, moaning between your legs as though he could feel the pleasure in your stomach - it was beyond anything you could conjure.
“fuck, you’re so tight. gotta loosen you up, baby, or you won’t be able to take my cock.” he hissed against you, curling his fingers inside.
you jolted again, legs restless as your thighs clamped around his head, all but suffocating him. not that he gave a fuck - he would happily die right here if given the chance.
“jungkook! i-i..” you could barely speak.
your hips bucked into his mouth after he sucked particularly harshly, causing a squeal to escape you before you pulled at his hair a little too roughly. he groaned loudly at the shot of pain, liking it more than he expected. the feeling of pain by your hands turned him on beyond belief.
he could feel you clenching, tightening around his fingers. could feel the pulsations straight to his cock which was practically weaping, begging for your attention but he needed to be patient. he was confessing his love to you against your sweet core, tasting you as if you were the only meal he’d ever be granted.
you realised very quickly that jeon jungkook was the definition of a fucking munch.
he was lost between your legs, hissing the dirtiest things you’d ever heard, about how you were made to take his tongue, how you needed to loosen up or else he’d have to fuck you open, something about how good it felt to be suffocated by your thighs. your brain was malfunctioning officially as you sunk deeper and deeper into the bed.
“close..” you managed to choke out, though he could hardly hear you, blood rushing to his head as he continued his actions, tongue laying flat to lap you up as much as possible.
you didn’t last much longer, his fingers curling into that spongy part inside of you that had you cumming, your back arching harshly, your hands pulling at his hair as you squealed loudly enough for the entire apartment complex to hear.
jungkook fucked you through it, large digits chasing the remnants of your high as he lapped up your slick, grunting about “how sweet you tasted when you cum.”
by the time your orgasm died down, jungkook had to be forcibly removed from between your thighs as you patted and pushed until he finally pulled back. his mouth was a mess, but it was his eyes that unnerved you - they looked entirely black, as though what he had just experienced was enough to take him to an early grave.
unfortunately for him, you hadn’t even had a chance to start.
your eyes fell to the large tent now in his sweats, the wet patch that had angrily formed. you could have cum again just from the sight of it, a measly sigh escaping you as you sat up on your elbows, hand darting out to message it firmly.
his jaw dropped lightly as you both kept eye contact, watching the way your hooded eyes only got drowsier and drowsier, falling into cockdrunk territory without even having it inside of you. it didn’t take long nor much before your positions were switched, with him now sat up, and you inbetween his legs, pulling down his sweats as though they were personally offending you.
you watched his cock spring up, slapping your cheek as it rested heavy on your face, a sight jungkook swore he could never forget even if he wanted to. his sweet girl.. to think he had once thought you were entirely innocent, and not at all privy to the perversion that plagued him so fully. if only he had known then that you too were a proud victim of it - he would have fucked you sooner.
he watched as your hands immediately took a hold of him, pumping up and down slowly, your eyes meeting his and refusing to look away.
“i won’t last.” he whispered down at you, to which you offered him a sly, coy smile. “just want a taste, kookie..you won’t deny me, right?”
fuck.
a girl like you needed your throat fucked.
instead of responding, he simply brushed your hair out of your face just as your tongue darted out, licking a large stripe up his tip. he was bigger than any guy you’d been with, and so much thicker, needing both hands just to wrap around him. you knew a cock like this would ruin you for life - no one would ever compare again, not when it was so pretty.
you watched as he shuddered, your tongue circulating his slit before tracing the vein down his cock, giggling lightly as you felt his hands in your hair tighten.
“don’t fucking tease.” he hissed at you, cheeks flushed red.
you obliged, though the cheeky smile on your lips, alongside your leaking cunt, proved you were up to no good.
you wrapped your mouth around his tip entirely, lips stretching wide as you began to bob your head immediately, pumping the rest of his cock that you couldn’t reach with both hands. he threw his head back in pleasure, grunting loudly as he returned to watch you.
neither of you could look away as you took more and more of him down your throat, until you began to gag too harshly, releasing him for a moment only to return to your actions. you could feel spit dribbling down the sides of your mouth, continuing to gag, continuing to pump, chasing more and more.
jungkook needed to stop you. he wanted his cum inside you only, knowing it would be such a waste if it sat inside of your stomach instead of your womb but fuck. you were a minx. just the way you bobbed your head so eagerly, as though this was all you’d ever wanted - how could he deny his sweet girl?
and so, with both hands on your head, jungkook began to push it down.
he watched you whimper, forced to take more of him down your throat, but he was uncaring, secretly loving the way you desperately scrambled to accommodate him. he began to thrust lightly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt him use you in the exact way you would often daydream about.
he released you for a moment, watching you pull off of his cock with a choke, coughing for air for a few seconds. he pulled up your chin once it subsided, pulling you in close until your lips connected once more. you could both taste each an other on your tongues, a moan leaving you at the thought.
“can’t wait any longer, baby.” he huffed, grabbing one of his pillows and situating it under your head comfortably.
your heart sang as you watched him prioritise your comfort before grabbing another pillow, placing it directly under your hips, your pussy now elevated for him to fuck exactly the way he wanted. your legs were still shaking, your throat sore from the way it had just been toyed with and yet there was nothing more than you wanted than him.
“no condoms.” you immediately said, as he began inching towards you.
jungkook wanted to laugh. he had every fucking intention of cumming inside of you, you knew that. he knew that. you were the cutest thing he had ever seen, asserting your wants just the way he wanted you to - despite his selfless nature when it came to you, he was a man with needs. he wanted you round and plump.
“no condoms.” he repeated, watching the way your eyelashes fluttered up at him before he pressed another kiss to your lips, passionate.
your tongues lapped at one another, all whilst he began to rest his cock against your core, moving, pressing into you so you’d feel every inch of what was about to penetrate you. he loved the way you moaned into his mouth, allowing for him to swallow every noise as though it was his favourite song.
as he pulled away, a thin string of saliva connected you both, a lidded look on his features.
he sat up from his position, grabbing onto your legs once more, pulling you slightly closer before continuing to rub his cock against you, beginning to push the tip in.
your eyes widened, a gasp loudly tearing into the space once more as you felt him push, push, push. his cock was breaking you in real time as he inserted inch after inch.
you couldn’t breathe.
this was the last barrier separating you, the one, final thing to make your relationship whole and now he was fully inside of you. you could feel him deep, your breath caught as your arms wrapped around his neck, all whilst he pulled himself down so his own arms were at either side of your head.
he could see it was too much, could see it in the way your eyes kept opening and shutting, your chest rising and falling, your legs parting and closing. he wanted to have you like this always, so sweet - his angel girl. god, he’d give you the world now that you were his, all soaked and clenching on his cock like he knew you would be.
he began to thrust slowly, whilst you let out gasps, whines, hums of both pleasure and pain. for every ounce of ache, you felt thrill tenfold as he made you keep your eye contact, gaze locked entirely on him.
“feel that, baby?” he cooed gently, so loving, so sweet. “you can never get rid of me, now. not even if you try.”
in response, you clenched around him hard. he choked.
“you can’t leave me either.” you whimpered up at him, his forehead coming down to connect with your own. “not allowed.”
“leave you? i’d sooner die.” he hissed immediately, as though the notion drove him insane to think about. at that, you felt your bottom lip quiver slightly. “my weepy baby.”
at that, his thrusts finally began to quicken.
they picked up in pace and pressure, as his thrusts now landed harder. faster. meaner.
the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off of the walls as your name was chanted on his breath, all whilst you clawed at his cheeks, neck and shoulders. he could feel the pain come in waves as the scratches you left on him began to bleed lightly, not that he gave a fuck - he wanted you to mark him in every single way.
by the time he was pounding into you, you were openly crying up at him.
you were so overwhelmed, tears pooling on either side of the pillow as you begged him not to stop, desperate to keep him inside of you for as long as he could, your hips coming up to meet his thrusts. it just felt so good, so whole, nothing had ever felt so right before.
was this a taste of heaven, jungkook thought, as he leaned down to kiss you through your blabbering, all whilst you tried to keep your sobs at bay. god, you were driving him insane. to know you were crying out of pleasure was akin to his wildest dreams, his eyes shutting tight to ward off any thoughts of cumming too soon.
“my girl, my girl, my girl.” he chanted down at you, heaving lightly. “fuck..don’t know what to do with you. need to give you the world but it’s not enough.”
“just want you. you’re my world.” you whimpered at him, all whilst clenching down hard causing him to hiss loudly.
your words were fucking him up. his head swarmed with flashing images of you knocked up, thick diamond on your left hand, cute little dress stretched over your stomach as he cooked for you. a house on a suburban street, with a nice garden and a white picket fence. fuck. he had to give you it all.
“open.” he growled down at you, to which you opened your mouth immediately.
he spat inside, watching the way you swallowed almost instantly, tongue lolling out of your mouth to show him.
“good fucking girl. my stupid baby doesn’t wanna think no more, huh? just needs me to tell her what to do.”
“mhm.” you confirmed, pussy throbbing at his condescending tone. “that's how i want you, all fucked out. need to get you pregnant soon, can’t have this pussy empty ever again.”
at that, you felt your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your legs began to shake. he knew you were close, but he wasn’t done with you yet.
you let out the loudest whine of the night, protesting as he slipped out of you, cock soaked from your juices as it slapped against his stomach. he laughed lightly at how bratty you sounded, the pout on your lips paired with the tears streaming down your face enough to drive any man fucking wild.
he pulled you up by your arms, almost harshly as he rested against the bed frame, pillow behind his back to support you both before pulling you into his lap. you felt his cock prod at your entrance before he all but pushed you down onto it, forcing you to take every inch once more.
the moan you let out would forever remain imprinted onto his memory as he watched your face squeeze in pleasure, feeling him so much deeper in this position. he pulled your legs on either side of him, so you were properly sat, all whilst he cradled you to him.
he began picking you up and dropping you, both of you hissing at the feel of you so much tighter this way, if that was ever possible. he was practically using you, with the way he was manhandling your body, your arms wrapped around his neck as you let him do whatever he wanted in the name of pleasure.
“don’t want t..this to stop..fuck, kookie.” you moaned, watching the way his skin bled lightly from your earlier attacks.
“won’t stop baby.” he let out a breathy exhale. “gonna do this to you every chance i can. fuck you, watch you when you’re not with me, gonna break in like i always do. hm, you want that? you want kookie to stalk you, still?”
“yes.” you sobbed at him, nodding desperately as you began matching his thrusts, it bordering on masochism with the way he was pounding into you. “please don’t stop.”
“sick fucking girl. makes you wet thinking about me stalking you, huh?” he hissed, fingers rubbing at your clit for you, to which you continued to nod. “that’s why we’re a match, baby. that fucked up part of your brain is just like mine, it makes my cock hard too.”
“don’t want anything to change.” you whimpered through a sob, watching the way his eyes rolled back. “don’t worry..fuck..just like that. gonna make sure you feel it this time, hm? make sure you see me everywhere.”
the pleasure, the thought, the promise. it was too much and not enough.
“promise, kookie? promise me.” you begged through your tears, watching as they streamed down your face, falling between you and straight onto where your bodies met, causing jungkook to fuck them back into you. “promise baby. gonna stalk you until you beg me to stop and even then, s’not your choice, huh?”
his words ripped you over the edge as your breathing stopped, cockdrunk and orgasming on his too fat cock. your body convulsed, his arms caging you in as he fucked into you, riding out your orgasm in a way that had your feet wrapping around him tightly.
jungkook watched your eyes shut tight before you squeaked from overstimulation, as he too chased his high, following you closely as he felt his orgasm wash over him. he grabbed onto your body, clutching you tight as he came and came and came and came.
he captured your lips with his own as he rode out his high, feeling you quiver with the way you milked him for every last drop. your mouths moved in unison, his tongue lapping at yours once more as you twitched around him, collapsing in his arms from exhaustion after.
you both panted, both unable to comprehend what had just happened, and yet neither of you made any effort to move. he pulled you closer, still inside, holding you tight, kissing every inch of your face, whispering sweet nothings.
“so good to me.” he whispered down at you right as you closed your eyes, exhausting taking a hold of you as it slowly seeped into your bloodstream.
—
the cafe off campus was home to you by now, and home to the relationship you had fostered with jungkook. this was where he had first seen you, where he had first tasted the sweet, familiar sensation of obsession.
now, he came here with you, hand in hand as he ordered your favourite drink and a cookie, all whilst you rested your head on his bicep as though you were finally comfortable. people around you would stare, half in confusion and other curiosity at the sight of the most popular girl on campus so smitten with her nerdy, know it all boyfriend who was known for his dry attitude. it seemed it was only you who he bothered with, and that confused everyone else even more.
what did you see in him, they wondered. was he rich? did he have a trust fund? sure he was attractive, with his large frame and tattoos, piercings glinting in the sun but you were on a whole other league. they simply couldn’t work it out.
such fools, you often thought, scoffing at the way they’d think. they had no idea what jungkook was to you, and what he represented. a physical manifestation of every deep, twisted desire in your darkened mind - wholly accepting, entirely loving. he was the love of your life, and you. oh, you were the very epitome of life itself for him.
he liked when you’d both sit in the corner, where he’d sit across from you, laughing quietly at whatever you’d tell him as though anything you said was intensely humorous. your cheeks would flush pink as he would take his time in complimenting you, from your hair to your outfit, all the way down to the cute ballet flats that adorned your feet.
“c’mon, finish your cookie.” he’d remind, voice soft despite his darkened demeanour, only for his gentle tone to drop whenever someone would ask him a question, or even look his way.
the only other person he was even remotely as nice to was his own personal circle, and of course, yejin, who you adored more than words. she’d often sit with you both, just so you could both talk and gossip as you’d often do, whilst jungkook merely sat and admired you.
sometimes he would tell you he couldn’t join you just to have an excuse to stalk you. the thought had your panties damp in a second, as you would peer from the corner of your eye, noticing a shadow, a cap and mask, all hidden away in the corners of the room. fuck.
now you were able to spot it, it made the game so much more thrilling.
you were at his home every chance you could get, or him at yours, but on the off chance you would fall asleep on your own, you’d be sure to find the most risqué underwear you could find, all so you could perch on your bed at an angle you knew he’d enjoy. from waking up in the middle of the night to touch yourself to openly addressing him, you took full advantage of his voyeuristic tendencies.
sometimes, you’d wake up to find him in bed next to you, bulge nestled right against where you needed him most, a reminder that he was able to break in when you least expected. of course, that also meant you were constantly undergoing a shortage of panties as he’d steal them.
that didn’t mean you had stopped, however, as you too felt your mind fall deeper into madness.
he had been paired with another girl for a physics project, to which they had shared contact information to divide tasks. innocent enough for most but it had you falling into a deep, dark jealousy, as you hacked into his phone with every chance you got, reading his messages, nibbling away at your lip despite knowing he knew what you were doing.
considering the messages so far consisted of “i’ve done section 2.” and “please do section 4 before monday.” you knew you had nothing to stress about, but you couldn’t reason with someone with a parasitic brain. even after the project was over, you found yourself looking through his phone almost excitedly, it bringing you a sense of entertainment and joy.
you’d leave little snippets of yourself there to remind him you were always watching him - ranging from little i love you’s in his note apps to full on nudes of your body in his photo album, to which he’d go feral for once he’d find them.
neither of you were healthy. neither of you were normal and yet you were happy beyond belief, living a life you were sure that no one else could have given you.
it wasn’t until yejin started hanging around with jungkook’s friends, all of you interacting, that you realised his tendencies were beginning to rub off on his own circle - his oldest friend, seokjin, staring deeply at her with a look of pure and unyielding devotion. she, of course, being a smart girl completely fed into it, making him her little boy toy almost immediately.
“nothing better than an obsessive man.” she had hummed to you with a wink, watching him scramble to go get her the drink she had asked for.
if only she knew how deeply you agreed with the sentiment.
“you’re sick.” you murmured at her with a coy grin, though there were no bite to your words.
yejin only grinned with a small giggle, leaning back into her chair as she crossed her legs, entirely unbothered. “hm, and you’re not?”
you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to when your grin gave you away.
the scrape of the chair beside you was familiar now, and expected, as jungkook hand found its usual place on the back of your neck, thumb pressing gently to ground the both of you to one another.
his drink sat down beside yours, your typical matcha cookie following.
this was routine at its finest.
“eat.” he simply muttered, a small kiss placed to your head before he slid into the seat next to you, as opposed to opposite you this time.
you leaned into him without thinking, breathing in his scent almost hungrily before lifting your drink to your lips, all the whilst curling into him instinctively. yejin’s eyes flickered between the two of you, a sense of candied understanding settling behind them before she let out a hum of amusement.
“i’m gonna go steal jin’s wallet. i wanna go shopping.” she hummed, already standing.
“it’s not stealing if he’d thank you for doing it.” you replied through a glance, causing her to tilt her head before nodding.
“exactly! he has to carry the bags too..”
she disappeared, walking over to the counter where he was collecting her drink, eyes already trained on her as she slid her hand into his back pocket, batting her eyelashes up at him. you watched his jaw slack, completely enamoured before nodding immediately, guiding her to the door without even bothering to spare anyone else a glance. the sight had you giggling.
you didn’t notice the shift beside you until it impacted you directly.
his hand moved from the back of your neck to your jaw, pushing it towards him gently so that you were facing him properly. his sweet girl, you looked so pretty today, he thought. what, with your hair all curled.
“you didn’t sleep.”
not a question, but rather an observation.
you blinked at him, a little dazed, before shaking your head slowly. “i did..”
this thumb pressed under your eye, amused by your lies. “no you didn’t.”
you huffed, your bratty nature to the surface now you were completely comfortable with him. “okay, fine. woke up early, that’s all.”
“what time?”
“…three.”
he watched you for a second longer than necessary, something ticking behind his eyes, before he leaned back slightly in his chair. he was observing you openly as he often did, with his attention on your gaze, momentarily dropping to your lips that he wanted nothing more than to defile, before returning up.
“next time call me, baby.”
you nibbled at your lips at his sweet response. “you were sleeping, didn’t wanna disturb you.”
“call me.” he responded again, firmer this time, as though he’d hear nothing else on the matter.
your stomach fluttered.
a beat of silence filled the air as he pulled you in close once more, pressing his lips to your forehead, looking down at the way you sipped on your drink, humming quietly about how yummy it tasted. he found you so endearing - loving how anytime he’d bring you here, you’d do the same thing, always making the cutest of noises whilst telling him he needed to try how good your drink was.
he reached for your cookie, breaking off a piece before holding it to your lips. you immediately opened up your mouth, taking a bite, cheekily swiping your tongue on his finger before innocently batting your lashes up at him.
you knew he’d get you back later.
you chewed slowly whilst he breathed in your scent, lips grazing against your neck, jaw, nose and head. it wasn’t until you had completely finished your cookie that he pulled back slowly.
“i’ve been thinking about us.” he confessed, softly.
that got your attention. you stilled slightly, as you peered up at his face, trying to determine what he meant.
“about what we’re doing after this.”
you stilled. not visibly, or in a way anyone with an untrained eye would notice, but in a way that only a man like jungkook could be well versed in. he watched you like a hawk.
“after what?” you asked almost shakily. he brushed your lip with his thumb. “after graduation, after everything.”
you watched him more carefully now.
“i’ve had multiple job offers now, different places…different cities.” he murmured gently down at you, only to watch the way your face fell slightly.
it was like he could see your heart straining.
“okay..” you whispered softly, unsure of what to say.
“we need to talk about where we’re going, baby. not taking anything until you decide where you want us to be.”
you blinked.
“what?”
“i’ll go wherever you wanna go. or you can come with me, i don’t really mind.”
your eyebrows knitted together. you weren’t confused, no - you were catching up. it was like a decision had been made for you, and you were finally privy to it.
“kookie..”
“i’m serious, y/n.” his voice remained the same tone, neither raising nor getting too excited. it was like this was fact. “i’m not building anything without you in it.”
your throat felt tight all of a sudden as you swallowed, your chest beating out of your chest at the casual sweetness he displayed for you and you alone. you felt so loved. always so, so loved.
“i don’t even know where i wanna work after this.” you confessed, voice small.
“that’s okay. we’ll figure it out.” he assured.
no pressure, no impatience. just a gentle assurance that whatever you picked, whenever you did, it would be done with him by your side.
“and if it’s somewhere shit?” you weakly asked, attempting some kind of humour despite your heart beating out of your chest.
he huffed out of amusement, easing your shoulders. “then it’ll be shit. doesn’t matter to me.”
you couldn’t stop staring at him, looking deeper and deeper into dark chocolate orbs where you could see nothing but yourself reflected both in and out. you tried to find the exaggeration, or the joke, but you came up short each time.
there wasn’t one.
“i’ll get us a good place. been saving for us.” he murmured almost absentmindedly. “somewhere big enough for you.”
your heart lurched hard.
“and then?” you asked, voice so soft it sat barely above a whisper.
the side of his lips quirked up.
“then, i marry you.”
he said it as though it was fact, as opposed to a wish for the future. you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t breathe.
“..and..then?” you choked out, with large eyes.
he grinned, gentle, soft.
“then…no more birth control.” his voice melodic, soft, as though it wasn’t a warning to come. “then, we start our family together.”
jungkook’s hand slid under the table to intertwine with yours before he pulled it up to his lips, watching the way your eyes quickly filled with unshed tears ready to implode at any minute. he huffed out another breath of amusement at the sight of his girl, always so sweet and always so so teary.
the constant tug of war between you to get closer and closer all made sense in that moment.
jungkook wasn’t just your person, he was the only route home. he was everything and more, and you were his sole purpose.
you were both inevitable.
———
i love my creepy little stalkers so much, they’re such weird freaks
my silly babies, i loved writing this one, sorry it was so long omg, 25k words is crazy even for me but i hope you guys enjoy and love it so much!!
if you enjoyed this fic and want to support me in paying my ugly london rent, i have my kofi here ❤️
Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends since diapers, and one day you decide to hook up for the fun of it, but then you end up pregnant with your best friend's baby. Chaos ensues.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy AU, Childhood Friends to FWB to Lovers, Slow-Burn, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst (barely, you have to squint to see it)
Word Count: 71.2k total
Warnings: chapter specific warnings will be included on each individual post
Author's Note: this is the masterpost for the series where I'll link each chapter once they’re posted! the fic is split by trimester and goes month by month throughout the pregnancy (and slightly before and after) across the three chapters. I hope you all enjoy it and pls feel free to lmk your thoughts or discuss things with me between chapters :)
The First Trimester (M)
Summary: Jungkook makes a proposition you can't don't want to refuse, and there are seemingly no consequences to your friendship at first, but then you miss you period and have to explain to all your loved ones how you got knocked up by your childhood best friend.
Word Count: 26k
The Second Trimester (M)
Summary: You're too busy attending baby prep classes and shopping for furniture together to focus on the significant changes living together and regularly hooking up has introduced into your relationship with Jungkook, although, it doesn't seem like either of you mind all that much.
Word Count: 20.3k
Drabble (M)
Summary: Jungkook decides to generously thank you for allowing him to use your body for his pleasure, but your best friend is an overachiever and his immense gratitude leaves you absolutely breathless.
Word Count: 2.6k
The Third Trimester (M)
Summary: Everything feels different after having the worst scare of your life, but your baby's due date is fast approaching and there's still plenty more important things to do than rifle through your ever-growing feelings for Jungkook. He certainly doesn't make it easy on you when he's constantly sweeping you off your feet.
I loved this!! I loved how their relationship evolved, it felt so natural and genuine. It was really well written. The confession scene is my favorite🤭
SUMMARY. Your older boyfriend Jimin is the epitome of patience—kind, gentle, and endlessly composed, because this is definitely not his first rodeo. But every man has his limits, and patient, loving Jimin has his too. Your first night staying over teaches you what it really means to be touched by a man.
warnings. dom!jimin x sub!reader, age gap, jimin is in early 30’s reader is in early 20s, nasty filthy smut, NSFW, penetration, oral sex, light impact play, size kink, praise + degradation, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, light biting, light coercion theme but nothing crazy
Jimin was an incredibly patient man, you’d come to realize. He held open doors for you, refilled your wine glass, cracked open your jars when you cooked. He showed up when you were drunk at the club to drive you home, put up with your millions of questions, let you tease him about his small hands. That was one of the many pluses of pursuing an older guy, you thought. They were too experienced to be annoyed.
But his patience was now making the pits of your stomach sour and tightening at your throat.
You knew he was a gentleman, he would never push. But you didn’t want to disappoint the somehow incredibly gorgeous man that had fallen into your orbit. When he had requested to stay the night, you’d agreed eagerly letting a string of quick “yes’s” fall out of your lips on the phone. But you knew what that usually meant, and you weren’t sure how to go about it. It wasn’t like the thought of fucking him was anything less than surreal, but you were the type that spiraled into a spitball of anxiety at even the meerest of tasks, getting to this stage with Jimin was eating you alive.
Your gentle toned, dulcet voice Jimin was perched by your side, leaning in as you showed him your Prime day shopping cart. You liked having him so close, his scent was always a subtle mixture of soap and an earthy masculine cologne that was probably much more expensive than you realized.
“And I thought about refilling my primer, but this one is on discount so I might get the more expensive one.” You added, as you jabbed a finger at the computer screen.
“Hmm..” Jimin hummed, running a tight hand through his hair. How sweet, you thought. He always gave his full consideration to your questions, no matter how insignificant they were. “Seems like a decent idea. But you know they hike prices up before it actually goes on sale.”
“Oh, I didn’t even consider that.” You said quickly, and drew in your bottom lip between your teeth giving it a contemplative bite. Your eyebrows were scrunched in thought. Jimin chuckled and pinched at your cheek.
“Make a decision, kid.” He urged. You grinned in response, the nickname was so overused by him but you loved it nonetheless.
You scrolled further, adding to your cart and Jimin rested his head completely on your shoulder. His black frames reflected the blue light of your laptop, and you reached up, running an affectionate hand through his hair. He smiled.
“Ooh, how about we get you a new wallet, I know yours looks fucked.” You chimed, your nose scrunched up in thought.
Jimin chuckled, a honey rumble that vibrated across the skin of your neck. If he noticed the sudden goosebumps rising on your skin, he didn’t comment. “That’s very sweet of you, you don’t have to do that though.”
“But I want to.” You emphasized, while typing in the search bar. Jimin was generous with his money, unreasonably so and you snatched at any opportunity you could take to treat him even if it was a thirty bucks measly wallet.
A comfortable silence stretched between you two as you got absorbed in your hunt. Your mind was so fogged in concentration, you couldn’t even feel Jimin's heated gaze making its way to your doe features, taking in your pouted expression with an unwarranted hunger.
“You’re always so good to me.” He said. His hot breath gristled at your ear and you instinctively flinched. Jimin wanted to coo at your innocent reaction, how sweet and malleable you were.
“Well, I like taking care of you.” You rested your head on his, but your eyes didn’t leave your screen.
Jimin felt a bubble of excitement, and the perfect opportunity to leer you in. “Yeah?”
“Mhmmm..” You nodded, and rubbed your soft cheek against his ear.
Jimin suddenly shifted his head and sat up slightly, turning his head completely towards you. Suddenly, you became all too aware of how intense his eyes were. A feature you’d noticed before, but felt unusually predatory with his full attention on you. Your throat bobbed, but you couldn’t manage the weight of returning his gaze so you kept your attention fixated on the laptop.
Your fingers started trembling lightly, and you started clicking at random products. Not bothered by if they were relevant in any way.
Jimin could sense your unease from miles away, a characteristic of you he’d grown to adore. What a cute girl.
He couldn’t help but want to push at your nerves more wanting to see when you would relinquish control and give into his searing eyes. “You wanna take care of me more, kid?”
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish but you didn’t dare to turn your head, "W-what do you mean, Jimin?”
Jimin hummed in response, and took in your rapidly blinking eyes, like you were trying to blink away his undeniable presence. He didn’t say anything, but ran the pads of his fingers in a loose circle across your clothed thigh.
You jolted at the sudden touch, and you swore your hands looked lifeless as they clutched your laptop for dear life. Your knuckles went white, but you didn’t let go. You were silent, as if you moved Jimin would pounce on you and eat you alive. Or maybe that was what you wanted to happen.
Jimin only felt bolder at your weighted silence. The rational part of him would stop now, and realize he was pushing at you far too quickly. And god had he kept his rational side afloat for far too long with you, but now he wanted to nudge at your discomfort a bit more. To see how far you’d really let him take things.
He continued his slow, burning circles, and smirked lightly at your breath, visibly catching in your throat. “I’m asking..” He paused. You brought a finger up to your mouth to nibble at your cuticle, “For you to look at me.”
You paused, fully, completely. Your laptop hummed uselessly against your lap. Jimin reached a ringed hand out and closed the screen. The darkness of your apartment took over, succumbing to the lack of little illumination your screen was providing. You turned your head slowly to look at him, eyes wide and glassed over in anticipation.
“I-I was looking for wallets for you though Ji-” You started, but were shushed by the older man beside you. His fingers kept swirling on your thigh lightly, pressing in only enough to trace the texture of your smooth skin.
You looked at him like a deer caught in headlights, blinking sweetly at him. Jimin wanted to see those same eyes when he finally plunged into your poor pussy.
“Much better.” He cooed, his fingers danced across to the middle of your thigh, starting to pace up and down instead of in spirals. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
You wanted to die there and then. He had been so patient, so kind to you, and you were making him feel like he was doing a crime by wanting to touch you. In fact, his soft touch was evoking something in you that you didn’t know you could feel.
“No!” You said far too quickly, “No no of course you’re not.”
Jimin only sighed at your response, and let his fingers crawl to your inner thigh. You froze further, and your bottom lip started to quiver. You wanted to fill the tension starting to build between you two, “You’re always so patient with me, Jimin.”
He nodded, “That I am..” His thumb brushed further up, but still not near your most sensitive area. You wanted to swallow in your awkward demeanor so bad, and you tried to slowly build the courage to do something.
summary: what would you do to spend some minutes alone with your hot yoga teacher? have you ever tried... this one?
wc:~3.1k
warnings: pwp, dom!jimin, yn is a bit bratty. spanking!!!!!!!l like a lot, light degradation kink, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), public sex ? kinda?, unprotected sex, mirror sex
Fuck whoever said yoga was easy, you think as your muscles ache in protest and sweat drips down your forehead.
“Breathe, stretch deeper. Feel it in your hamstrings,”Jimin says as he instructs the class, his tone offering no room for slacking.
For the past nine months, you’ve been religiously attending Jimin’s ninety-minute yoga sessions. Yoga had always been your thing, and after moving across town, you were just looking for a new studio to settle into. A friend gifted you a trial pass to Jimin’s studio, and you figured you’d give it a shot. One class. That’s all it took.
The studio was nice, sure, but it was Jimin who sold you on the membership. The first time you saw him, you swore the universe tilted a little. Blonde hair, features too pretty to be real, he looked like a prince who’d stepped out of a fairytale.
One could not help but watch him. At first, you told yourself, it was admiration, but with each class, the line between admiration and infatuation became less clear.
He takes his time while he adjusts your posture, placing his warm hands on your skin for maybe a little too long. Not that you are complaining, tough. He stays around after class, chatting with you for longer than would be necessary for a teacher and his student, making small talk, and dropping comments that make you laugh or blush.
You kept wondering if he knew what he was doing to you, or if you were just imagining it all. And if he felt the same way you did about him.
The class is moving into the final few poses before the cool-down and Jimin starts his rounds, walking slowly between the rows of mats, giving hands-on adjustments. He keeps moving around and pauses next to you. Even though you know you have good form, you slump a little in the hopes that he will assume you need assistance.
Jimin squats down beside you. “Just a small adjustment to your spine,” he says, his hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades. “Take a breath and extend your back… that’s better.”
The class ends, and everyone starts packing up. Rolling their mats, grabbing towels, chatting quietly as they head for the door. You take your time rolling yours until the class empties and it’s just you and Jimin there. This is it, this is your chance.
Jimin is at the front, stacking blocks with his back to you. “Mmh. Jimin?”
He turns right away. “Yes, Y/N? Are you okay?” The warmth in his voice catches you off guard. His gaze scan over you, like he’s genuinely trying to figure out if something’s wrong.
“Yes!” You put on your most genuine student-in-need face and begin, “It’s just that… I've been struggling a lot with puppy pose, you know? I get this sharp pain, right here.” You gesture vaguely towards your lower back. “I was hoping,” you start, taking one small step closer to him. “Would you mind staying for five minutes and look at my form? I'm worried I'm going to hurt myself.”
Jimin looks at you for a moment, like he knows exactly what you’re trying to do but decides to play along. “Of course,” he says, turning toward the door. “Good thing this was my last class for today.” He locks it with a quiet click and glances back at you. “Just so no one walks in,” he adds with calmness in his voice. “Alright, let’s take a look. Get into position.”
You feel a little rush of satisfaction as you unroll your mat again and set it down near the mirror, right in your usual spot and drop into extended puppy pose. Hands and knees on the floor, arms reaching forward, hips lifted. You know the pose by heart, but intentionally exaggerate it to make it look like you need help.
“How’s that?” you ask, glancing up at him.
Jimin steps closer. "Let's see,” he says, kneeling at your side. “Relax your shoulders.” His touch is firm, professional, but then his fingers press a little harder into your mid-back, guiding you lower. As his hands move around your ribs to stabilize you, you make a small sound and shift a bit. “Alright, tilt your hips,” he says, placing one hand on your lower stomach and the other on your hip.
“Like this?” you ask quietly, pushing back just a little into his hold.
“Almost,” he replies, lowering his tone and rather than backing away, he moves to kneel right behind you. You can feel it as he leans in to align your back, as his thighs brush against the sides of yours. Through the thin layers of fabric, his thick, hardening dick presses against your ass.
Your core tightens as a result of the friction, and heat emerges between your legs. You suppress a gasp by biting your lip, but instead of moving away, you continue to settle into the pose.
“Perfect,” he says in a low voice. “But answer me this, Y/N…”
His tone makes heat pool between your legs. “Yes?” you whisper, barely moving.
He keeps you pressed down, grinding his cock against the curve of your ass. You push back a little, letting your weight press into him. His head dips to your neck, and you feel his breath against your skin. “So… how come that one of my most advanced students,” he murmurs as his hand squeezes your hip, “needs help with this beginners pose, huh?”
“Everyone needs a little extra guidance sometimes, professor,” you say, attempting to joke, but your voice is a nervous tremor that totally betrays you.
“You didn't have any pain,” he states, placing his entire warm palm flat against the curve of your ass. “Didn't you?”
You stumble over your words, trying to keep up the act. “I… I just–”. Your thighs clench as he presses himself against you.
“Don't lie to me,” he growls as his palm presses harder on your cheek. “Girls that lie get punished, you know?”
“But I swear, my hip just felt weird!” you say quickly, trying to come up with something. He cuts you off with a sharp slap of his hand against your ass. You gasp, the sting shocks you, but the surprise is far from unwelcome, making your hips push back, leaning right into his hard cock.
“I told you,” he murmurs, as he clamps his hand onto the back of your neck and pushes your head lower to the mat, “I don't tolerate lies.” Another sharp spank lands, making your body twitch, and you moan at the feeling. “Quiet,” he says quietly, his tone sharp enough to make you stop moving.
“I'm sorry, Jimin, I'm sorry," you whisper. “I just wanted to–”. Your words are cut short by another smack, leaving your ass cheeks stinging.
“I told you to be quiet,” he commands. As he leans in and gently rubs your ass a few times, you can feel his erection press against you. He pulls your thong and yoga shorts down, bunching at your knees
Your face burns, but embarrassment is washed out by arousal. “Jimin–” you start, but he cuts you off. On the impact, you rock forward and your pussy clenches around nothing. “I wasn't – ah!” Another spank.
“Don't dare lie to my face again, you little slut,” he snarls, before slapping you hard again. His fingers dig into your hip to support you. “Count them,” he demands.
“One,” you breathe, biting your lip. “Two. Fuck, three,” you gasp on the next two quick ones as your body begs for more while your eyes prickle with tears.
By the tenth, your ass throbs as Jimin starts rubbing slow circles over the hot skin. You whine and push back, trying to chase his hand as his fingers briefly brush your wet folds but he pulls away as he stands up. “Hold the pose. Don't move.”
You obey, watching in the mirror as he strips. His tank top comes off first, revealing his sculpted abs. Hooking his thumbs into his shorts, he shoves them down and is cock bobs free, heavy and erect. He strokes himself once while staring at your reflection, fully naked now.
Kneeling behind you again, you feel two fingers part your lips before pushing into your pussy. “Fucking soaked already,” he groans as he thrusts in and out while rubbing circles with his thumb on your clit. “So ready for me, huh?” You moan as he pumps faster, scissoring inside you, but just as your orgasm gets close, he slows down, taking his fingers almost completely out of you. Your hips instinctively rise to meet his fingers, throwing your head back, looking up at the ceiling.
“Look down,” he orders and you obey, lowering your head. He thrusts his two fingers deep inside you as his thumb presses your clit, holding you at the edge.
"I need–” you beg, but he shakes his head and pulls his fingers out entirely.
“I don’t care what you need. Bad girls who lie don't get to cum so easily,” he growls, and grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back sharply to expose your throat. “On your knees. Show me how sorry you are. Suck my cock good, and maybe I'll let you cum.”
Turning around eagerly and kneeling before him, you kick off the tangled yoga shorts entirely and pushing them past your ankles. His dick is proudly on display, inches from your face.
Leaning in and flicking your tongue out to lap at the slit. Hissing, he fists your hair. “Open up,” and you obey, wrapping the head with your lips and sucking lightly at first.
Your mouth waters around his girth, saliva spilling down your chin as you bob, hollowing your cheeks. When his head bumps your throat and he pushes deeper, you gag, but you relax, breathing through your nose.
Your hand moves down his shaft, taking the length you can't fit into your mouth. While one hand caresses his balls and rolls them gently, your other hand pumps the base. He jerks as you look up at him. “That's it. Fuck, use that tongue,” he grunts, hips rolling slowly, fucking your mouth. “Deeper, choke on it." He grips your head, thrusting hard. You choke back tears as he finally pulls out, cock slick and glistening. “Downward dog,” he says.
As soon as you shift into the inverted V, Jimin immediately grabs your hips and his thumbs dig into the tender skin. He yanks you back before slapping your ass again. You feel his hands leave your body and the next thing you feel is his hot tongue dragging up your slick slit. “Oh my God!” you gasp as your hips involuntarily twitch at the sudden pleasure. He laps you once more, before his lips suck your clit.
“You taste so fucking good,” he mutters against your pussy, his tongue running up your wet slit.
“More,” you beg, shaking. He speeds up, then stops suddenly, just pressing his mouth over your pussy without moving. “Jimin, please don't stop.”
He yanks his head back and immediately grabs your hips. The blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance, then he shoves in, filling you completely in one push. “Fuck,” he moans. He pulls almost out, then slams back in. The angle hits you deep, making you see stars. “Tight little pussy. Gripping me so hard,” he pants.
You push back, meeting his thrusts. “Harder, fuck me harder!” you ask.
“Demanding much, huh?” He laughs roughly and snaps his hips harder against your ass. His hand snatches your hair, yanking it back to force your arch. “Is this what you wanted? Acting all innocent just to get me like this?”
“Yes,” you pant. “I wanted this so fucking bad.”
Your pussy clenches tight around his thick cock. Your climax is close, but he senses it and slows, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. “Are you about to cum?” he asks.
"Yes! Please, Jimin, stop teasing me! Just fuck me and let me finish!" you whimper, your hips thrusting desperately up to chase his movement.
“Not until I say so,” he warns. “Hold it, or I'll stop.”
The grip he has on your hips tightens. He slams you back onto him, driving in as far as he can. The pressure inside you is too much. You can't hold back the sound that escapes. “Please, Jimin... It's too much. Let me, fuck, please!"
“Do you think you deserve it after lying to me?” he growls. His hand lifts and delivers a sharp smack to your ass. The sting makes your pussy clench tighter on his cock.
“No... I mean, yes. Shit, I'm sorry!" you blurt , “I lied, okay? But I need it so bad. Please, I'll be good!"
“That's right, beg for it," he says, his thrusts getting harder. “You want to cum on my cock? Prove you're my good girl. Hold it just a little longer." You nod, biting your lip as his hips slam, driving you closer. “Now. Cum for me, squeeze that pussy tight," he finally orders, spanking once more to send you over.
“Oh fuck! Oh shit!” you scream as your body jerks against him as he keeps pounding into you.
Your cunt clenches and throbs around him. He grabs your hips, lifting you slightly off the ground. “That’s it! Squeeze me!” he snarls. You obey, your inner muscles clamping down hard around his thick shaft, milking him. “Good girl, milk my cock,” he groans.
Pulling out, the sudden emptiness makes you whine. He moves you, grabbing you by the waist and dragging you backward across the floor until you’re seated between his legs. Your back presses against his solid chest and you look at your reflection in the slightly fogged mirror. The two of you naked and sweating, your hair a total mess, and the dark hunger in Jimin's eyes as he stares back at you.
His impatient hands shove your sports bra up, and you lift your arms instantly to help him yank the fabric over your head.
Cupping your tits, he kneads the soft flesh firmly, weighing them in his hands. He drags his thumbs back and forth over the peaks, teasing you, before sliding his fingers up to yank on both nipples, making you gasp.
“You like it when I fuck with these tits? Huh, slut?” he growls against your ear, pinching the tips and pulling them out as far as they go. The sharp stinging shoots straight down to your clit, making you arch back against him.
When you don’t answer fast enough, he twists the sensitive buds harder, rolling them sharply between his thumb and forefinger. You let out a loud, shameless moan. “I asked you a question,” he says, and he slaps your left tit hard, while twisting the right nipple.
Gasping, your hands claw at his forearms, needing something to hold onto. “Yes! I love it!”
“Bet I could make you cum just by playing with these sensitive nipples.” He keeps tugging at your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. Behind you, you can feel the heavy ridge of his hard cock pressing right against your ass. “So fucking responsive,” he praises, pressing his hot, damp lips against the curve of your shoulder. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the slope of your neck, all the way up to your ear.
Sliding his hand down to your soaking wet pussy, Jimin pushes your knees wider. “Fuck, look at this,” he murmurs, meeting your eyes in the mirror for just a second. “You’re dripping.”
Sliding two fingers deep inside you, he curls them while his thumb rubs on your clit. You moan, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip to hold a scream. “You’re so open for me,” he groans, twisting his fingers deeper. “Did my dick leave you like that? All loose and ready?”
“Mmmh,” you whimper. You can still feel exactly where his cock was just a second ago. “You stretched me so good.”
He keeps working his fingers inside you but just as you get close to cumming, he stops cold and pulls his hand away. “Turn around,” he commands and you obey instantly, shifting your legs until you are straddling his lap, face-to-face.
Cupping your face, he pulls you in for a kiss as you feel your tits press right against his hard chest. The friction of your sensitive nipples, already swollen and abused from all the play before rubbing against his sweaty skin, makes you shiver.
He breaks the kiss and leaning forward, he latches onto your left nipple, sucking hard. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nub before he bites down lightly. “Oh god, Jimin!” you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him closer.
He moves to the other tit, sucking it like he's starving. As his mouth works your nipple, his hand lifts and lands a sharp, stinging slap against your ass cheek. You groan from the friction as he presses your hips down, grinding your soaking pussy against his hard cock.
“Don’t stop,” you beg, bucking against him. “Mmmm.”
“Put my dick back inside you," he murmurs against your tits. “I want to feel that pussy squeeze me again." You reach down, gripping his slick cock and lining it up, sinking onto him slowly, gasping at the new angle. As you begin to bounce, his arms tighten around your waist, keeping you in place. “Ride it. Come on baby, make those tits bounce for me,” he urges, bucking up hard to meet your bounce. His hands roam from waist to ass, squeezing the spanked flesh. “Yeah, just like that, such a good slut, taking my cock so deep.”
His fingers twist your nipples. “Fuck, it feels so good,” you whine, slamming down on him faster. Your thighs burn, but you ignore it. “I’m so close,” you pant, grinding against him.
“Me too,” he says. His hips buck up quicker as he moans, "Tell me where you want it."
“Inside, Jimin. Fuck, inside me!” you scream, your orgasm hitting hard as your pussy clenches around him, throwing your head back and digging your nails into his shoulders.
He ruts into you. “Ah. F-fuck, yes!” he pants, his arms clamping your ribs, holding you down as he empties himself inside you.
Your pussy continues to clench around him as you collapse on him, gasping. His lips lightly touch your shoulder as his hands caress your back. “You know, you didn’t have to pull that whole injury stunt just to get me alone, right?” he says softly.
You clench around him playfully, smiling.“But where’s the fun in that, professor?”
Summary: Your husband and his identical twin brother are complete opposites, but when the pair are in a horrific car accident together and the nurse asks Jungkook which twin he is, he decides to spare you the heartache of losing your beloved husband by becoming him.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, (Brief) Jungkook’s Twin x Reader, (Slight) Jungkook x Jennie
Genre: Twins AU, Brother-in-Law, Unrequited Love, Friends to Lovers(?), Haunting the Narrative, Slow-Burn, Angst, Smut, Fluff
Word Count: ~ 80.3k total
Warnings: chapter specific warnings will be included on each individual post
Author's Note: woohoo! it's finally here!! this is the masterpost for a series that was only ever supposed to be a one-shot lmao. the only thing I'll say beforehand is this story is really, really heavy so please read all the warnings if there are certain topics you know could negatively impact you. like, I honestly think I might be a sadist after writing this 🫣. but it isn't all just angst and in my opinion, despite the sadness, is a truly beautiful story. it's also told entirely from Jungkook's POV which was new for me as a writer. I hope you all enjoy it :)
-> Taglist
Part I ~ coming on Friday, May 8, 2026 at 7:00 pm EST
Summary: There's two boys but only one girl, leaving Jungkook hopelessly in love with someone he can never have, and doesn't want to have, because that would mean taking you away from the person he loves most. But what happens when there's suddenly only one boy and one girl, even if it's the wrong one?
Word Count: ~ 29.1k
Part II (M) ~ coming on Friday, May 15, 2026 at 7:00 pm EST
Summary: Jungkook's been living as his twin for three months without too many hiccups or blunders, but he can't keep you waiting to be intimate again for much longer. Not to mention all the other obstacles which keep constantly appearing in his path.
Word Count: ~ 33.4k
Part III (M) ~ coming on Friday, May 22, 2026 at 7:00 pm EST
Summary: There's no turning back after diving headfirst into the deep end with you, not that Jungkook would ever want to, but past secrets and choices entirely out of his control might just topple the delicate house of cards he's spent eight months building to conceal his web of lies.
Summary: You and Jungkook have been trying to get pregnant again for a while, and when it finally does happen, your husband does such a thorough job at knocking you up that he puts two babies in you at once.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Parents AU, Pregnancy, Established Relationship, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst
Word Count: 126k total
Warnings: chapter specific warnings will be included on each individual post
Author’s Note: friends!! can you believe it’s finally almost here? the long awaited sequel to cradle robbers is almost in your hands! I decided to post it starting on halloween because that’s where the story begins. The rest of the posting schedule can be seen below and I’ll update the masterpost accordingly as chapters come out. get excited!! it’s going to be a rollercoaster 🥹
-> Cradle Robbers Masterpost
Prologue (M)
Summary: Your first Halloween as both a family and a couple is already a momentous occasion, especially when the holiday means so much to you and Jungkook, but he single-handedly turns it into a night you’ll never forget.
Word Count: 27.5k
The First Trimester (M)
Summary: Despite it being almost too easy getting pregnant the first time, you and Jungkook have been trying for a year with nothing to show for it. Although, you realize you should’ve been more careful what you wished for after your doctor gives you the most shocking news of your life.
Word Count: 34.4k
Flashback Drabble
Summary: “In college, I began hanging out with someone who also sang. This person ended up hurting me really badly and because we would sing and write songs together, I stopped doing that afterwards.”
Word Count: 3.5k
The Second Trimester (M)
Summary: You finally get to tell Naru she’s going to be a big sister, along with all your friends and family, but sunshine is often followed by rain, and right in the middle of your pregnancy, your family receives devastating news.
Word Count: 27.1k
The Third Trimester (M)
Summary: Your final trimester begins with Naru’s third birthday and ends in blood and guts, literally. Life is throwing curveball after curveball at you, but if there’s one thing you know, it’s that you and Jungkook can handle anything as long as you have each other.
Word Count: 37k
Social Media Special
Summary: A sneak peek into Bambi and Koo’s Instagram accounts as a family of five.
Summary: Based on the concept from the movie “Sinners,” music has the ability to shred the barrier between planes of existence and draw creatures of the underworld to the land of the living, and Jungkook’s heavenly voice ends up bringing hell right to his doorstep.
Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Demon!Reader
Genre: Fantasy in the Modern World AU, Temptation & Corruption, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Smut
Word Count: 15.2k+
Warnings: demons, religious lore, hell, fantasy elements, mention of lucifer, temptation, corruption, manipulation, trespassing(??), threats, going missing, mention of death, life-altering decisions. SMUT: kissing, neck kissing, hair pulling, doggy, dick riding, oral sex (both receiving), spitting, titty play, cum feeding, cum eating, choking, crawling, slapping, body worship, sub!koo 🤭, mild degradation, use of the term “good boy,” scratching, gagging, orgasm denial, creampie, okay I think that's it?
Author's Note: y'all I’m so sorry for making you wait so long. I lost motivation during bts ticketing season bc I was so damn stressed, but I managed to secure tix AND finish the story lol. all I have to say about this one is that it's basically pure smut. there is an underlying plot but the whole point of this fic is to see koo get his shit rocked, I'm not even gonna lie. plus my time jungkook is literally my favorite jungkook ever. speaking of, I highly recommend watching the performance before reading this bc it gives you a very nice visual for the story 😏 also if you haven’t seen sinners you better go watch that too bc it’s the best movie of 2025 (after you read this lmao). all in all, I hope you enjoy this one and thank you for being so patient while I finished it! ilysm :)
-> 201010 Jungkook “My Time” Performance
“There are legends of people... born with the gift of making music so true, it can pierce the veil between life and death, conjuring spirits from the past and the future.” — Sinners, 2025
The sound of your heels clicking against the cold, marble floor is commonplace. You walk down this corridor daily to reach your private quarters at the end of the hall. Not all demons are awarded such a luxury, but after hundreds of years, it only makes sense for you to have your own lavish suite to reside in.
As a demon of desire, you take your job very seriously. Whether tempting mortals with erotic visions or sensual prose, you’re one of the best at soiling their virtue and turning them towards a life of sin. Of course, all of this occurs from your home in the underworld.
Demons are unable to visit the mortal realm unless a human creates a tear in the barrier between worlds, thus allowing one to enter. It’s extremely difficult to accomplish and only a small percentage of humans even possess the ability to do so. The last time you remember it happening was decades ago when a young man named Michael Jackson tore a hole through the metaphorical fabric.
You’ve been waiting your entire existence for the chance to see the human world for yourself and hopefully bring one back with you. That is the ultimate goal for demons, after all. Sure, messing with them from Hell is plenty enjoyable, but there’s nothing more fulfilling than stealing a mortal from their own realm to stay with you for all eternity.
Lucifer must be smiling up at you today, because the sound of your shoes kissing the floor suddenly ceases when you hear a melodic voice overhead. Glancing up, you notice a ripple in the deep red sky above you. It’s nothing more than a shimmer at the moment; a trick of light dancing like waves on a shore.
The music grows louder and the tear widens until you can faintly see the human on the other side.
His voice entices you much more than his image, which is to be expected when his alluring timbre is what’s creating the hole in the first place. It sounds refreshing like drinking a cool glass of water or applying lotion to dry skin; some of life’s simple pleasures. Although, his tone also possesses a slight sensuality like he wants the listener to believe he’s singing just for them. You suppose it’s this illustrious combination of sweet and seductive that’s shredding the barrier.
Once you do focus on his appearance, you’re pleasantly surprised to find he’s quite handsome for a human. He has a soft, round nose, plush lips, a sharp jawline, and big, captivating eyes. His hair is wavy, black, and long; ending just above his high cheekbones. Best of all, he’s wearing black leather pants and a matching jacket. Both of which are bordering a sheer black shirt that he untucks halfway through his performance to reveal a sculpted torso. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s trying to summon a demon.
“Well, well, well. Aren’t you just delectable?”
Truth be told, you’re completely hypnotized by him and can’t wait to sink your claws into his pretty, tanned skin.
You’re shamelessly smirking to yourself by the end of his song as you imagine all the different positions and angles you two can accomplish together. Even if he is only a mortal, a man like that is bound to bring you pleasure.
The hole begins to close following the completion of his ballad, but the damage is already done. He’s gotten your attention, unknowingly given you permission to enter his world, and now all you have to do is reel him into your clutches.
You proceed to skip down the remainder of the corridor so you can find the perfect outfit for formally introducing yourself to your prey. In a thousand years, you don’t believe the sound of your heels has ever been so cheerful.
After donning a little black dress, styling your hair like human women do, and applying just enough makeup to highlight your features, you descend the grand staircase leading to the human realm. The winding marble steps only appear if you’re able to pass through the barrier and as such, the guards look rather surprised when they notice you coming down.
“Miss Y/N, we didn’t expect to see you here,” one of them proclaims.
“Today’s my lucky day, boys,” you explain. “A talented little human decided to sing for me.”
“Well, of course, he did,” the other replies. “Who could ever resist you, Madam?”
You smile and blow the guard a gracious kiss before waltzing straight through the translucent archway which separates the two worlds. The portal spits you out precisely where you need to be; inside what you assume is the dressing room of your scrumptious mortal.
It’s cozy and looks similar to the man himself, with multiple lush blankets and all black furniture. You peruse the space while running your fingers across the all different couches and artwork. Besides the charming decor, there’s also a masculine, floral scent wafting in the air that leaves you wanting more.
After sitting on the large sofa across from the door, you cross your legs and examine your manicure as you wait patiently for your prey to arrive.
What you presume is his name hangs on a plaque near a desk with makeup and haircare products strewn about. It’s written in Hangul, although you already deduced he’s Korean since it’s what he was singing in earlier. Language barriers aren’t an issue for demons and you automatically begin sounding out his name so you can taste the letters on your tongue.
“Jun…gkook… Jung…kook?” You shake your head at yourself. “Jungkook… yeah, Jungkook.” A smile forms on your lips. “A pretty name for a pretty mortal.”
It isn’t long afterwards that the man of the hour walks through the door. He’s still in his outfit from earlier, although up close you can see he’s drenched in sweat from exuding so much energy throughout his performance. The scent from earlier becomes far more potent with him in the room and you eagerly inhale to get another whiff.
He doesn’t notice you right away because he’s busy combing his fingers through his damp hair so it doesn’t stick to his forehead. The vigorous dancing and singing clearly drained him because his chest is rising and falling while he attempts to recoup his lost oxygen. It provides you with a gorgeous view of all his muscles working as one to return his body to baseline.
It isn’t until he glances up that he stops dead in his tracks and his already large eyes widen like a cartoon character. He looks rightfully confused and even takes a gander around the room as though he might be in the wrong place. When he realizes he isn’t, his expression turns inquisitive and he clears his throat.
“Uh, can I help you?”
You smile while shaking your head and uncrossing your legs. A silent signal that you mean him no harm. You’ve learned over the years that humans often rely on body language even more than what someone is telling them.
“No,” you nonchalantly answer.
His responding chuckle is undoubtedly awkward as his eyes flicker around the room again in search of an explanation.
“Well, then may I ask what you’re doing here?”
“You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”
Whether it’s the lick of prowess in your tone or the sly words themselves, his intrigue becomes obvious when he smiles with a slight tilt of his head.
“How did you even get in here?”
“You let me in,” you state.
“I did?”
He points to his chest and you can’t help but laugh at the adorable look of confusion that crosses his face.
“Well, not directly, but I am here because of you.” Before he gets the wrong idea, you throw your hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’m not some crazy fan or anything.”
As a demon, you don’t need to ask humans any questions to learn about them. Their personality, likes, dislikes, hobbies, and career are attributes you gain knowledge of immediately upon meeting them so you’re able to more accurately bend them to your will.
Which is how you know that Jungkook is a beloved idol who’s been singing and dancing for fans all across the globe since he was just a teenager.
“If you’re not a fan, then…”
His voice trails off, but it’s clear what he’s trying to ask.
“Why don’t you sit, Jungkook?”
You gesture to the chair across from you with a warm, polite smile. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t oppose the suggestion and strolls over to take a seat.
Once he’s comfortable, you lean forward and cross your legs again. It allows for your cleavage to make an appearance and Jungkook’s eyes momentarily flicker down to your chest. His cheeks flush and pupils dilate, which is par for the course of a mortal man. All it ever takes is a single glance.
“Obviously, you know my name. Am I allowed to know yours?” He asks.
“Y/N.”
Just a hint of a smile appears before he repeats the syllables to himself.
“It’s beautiful,” he tells you.
“Why thank you.” The blush on his face deepens. “I’ll be sure to tell my maker you said so.”
“Your maker?”
“Mmhm.” You watch while the gears in his pretty little head twist and turn to decipher the new information. “I don’t have parents as I’m sure you do.”
“No?”
“Nope. Just dear old dad Lucifer.”
“Lucifer?”
His pitch skyrockets as his muscles flex and you can even smell the intense spike of anxiety within him from across the room.
“That’s right. I am a demon, after all.”
Jungkook’s eyes expand into massive saucers, but it’s only for a brief moment before they become a pair of crescents when he starts laughing. If you weren’t already expecting this exact reaction, you would be offended. Alas, not many humans can comprehend your existence right off the bat.
“I’m sorry, I really tried humoring you, but that’s just ridiculous,” he explains. “Look, I’m sure you’re a very devoted fan, but there are a lot better ways to meet me than breaking and entering.” He stands to walk towards the door. “If you would be so kind, I just finished a pretty exhausting concert and need some rest, and I really don’t want to have to call security on you.”
You paint on a fake smile before making yourself comfortable and pointing at the chair again.
“Jungkook, I suggest you sit back down.”
“Listen —”
“Jungkook.” Since verbal instructions are failing, you flash your natural red eyes in his direction. “Sit.”
That certainly garners his attention. His expression is a perfect mixture of shock and horror as his hand falls from the doorknob and he turns to march back to his seat. You wait until he’s situated again before clearing your throat so you can continue.
“I know it can be hard to believe, but it isn’t possible for me to lie to you,” you declare.
His brow creases in confusion, but it seems his nervousness is slowly wavering.
“What do you mean?”
“Demons don’t possess the ability to lie. Our life’s purpose is to tempt and corrupt humans, but true corruption comes from a mortal making a bad decision for themself. If we’re untruthful in our approach, then it isn’t technically an act of free will since the person was deceived.”
Jungkook thoughtfully purses his lips while nodding his head.
“How do I know that isn’t a lie?”
The question makes you smirk.
“Such a smart boy,” you mumble under your breath. After sliding down the couch so you’re sitting on the edge, you rest your hands on your exposed thighs and rhythmically tap your nails against your skin. “Well, I don’t have a way to prove myself to you, but hopefully, you’ll let me convince you to trust me.”
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” He poses.
“Of course, you do.” He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Again, my entire existence relies on you deciding to defy your own morals. I’ll never push you into doing something you don’t want to do.” You lean in to seductively whisper your next remark. “I want you to want it.”
If him licking his lips and drinking you up with his eyes is anything to go by, he already does. Ever since returning to his seat, Jungkook’s body has been tense with an indisputable sexual urge. Not only are you witnessing it with your own eyes, but you can smell the arousal in his blood and hear the erratic beat of his heart.
Although he’s showing clear signs of neediness, he remains calm while changing the subject.
“I never would’ve expected a demon to look like you.”
You shrug and lean back into the couch.
“I’m a demon of desire, so I was made to look like what you deem attractive.”
“What I do?”
“Not you, specifically, but human beings,” you clarify.
He hums in acknowledgement.
“And your ability to speak Korean, is that for the same reason?”
“Oh, I’m not speaking Korean.” His face contorts, so you explain. “Think of it like automatic translating. I’m speaking in my language, but you’re hearing me in Korean, and similarly, you’re speaking in Korean while I hear my own language.”
“Demons have a unique language?”
“Of course. We predate the existence of any verbal human language, after all.”
Your efforts seem to be working because the more he learns, the more his demeanor shifts towards comfortable. He’s now mirroring your own stance by relaxing in his chair and his breathing is completely level as he maintains eye contact.
“So, how long have you been around, then?” He inquires.
“Since the dawn of time,” you answer. “Well, not the dawn of time, because those two humans had to eat an apple first or whatever.”
Jungkook chuckles.
“And what does an ancient demon want with little ole me?”
“Like I said, you invited me here, Jungkook.”
He shakes his head in disbelief.
“How?”
“A small population of talented humans have the ability, through music, to shred the barrier between realms and allow creatures of the underworld to cross over.” You flash him a saccharine smile. “As it turns out, you happen to be one of them, and your lovely performance earlier brought me here.”
His eyes flicker back and forth as he thoughtfully observes the pattern on the floor. You know all this information can be hard for a mere human to grasp and you’re quite impressed with his comprehension so far.
“Brought you here to do what?”
He meets your gaze and you can’t resist frowning when you sense his fear peaking again. His chocolate brown eyes are full of inner turmoil, but it only makes them look prettier.
“I’m not here to hurt you, if that’s what you're asking,” you reassure him.
“No, you’re here to corrupt me. Is that right?”
You giggle and shrug your shoulders.
“Precisely.” Your laissez-faire attitude causes him to smile despite his nervous system still being on high alert. “You should really be more careful about what you do with those enticing hips of yours. One day, they might beckon the wrong company to your doorstep.”
You may be unable to lie, but you can still leave things out. Like the fact that he won’t ever have another visitor, at least not here on earth.
The teasing seems to dispel most of his anxieties since he chuckles and leans forward in his seat. You naturally match his movements to bring your faces closer together.
“And what are you? Good company?”
There’s a hint of mischief in his eye that makes you even more excited about how tonight will proceed.
“I’m the best company,” you counter. “The kind that provides you with more pleasure than you ever thought possible.”
Jungkook’s eyes sharpen and grow darker until they're almost black. He shifts in his chair and your attention is drawn down to the evident bulge straining against his pants. The sight fills you with pride and you aren’t able to refrain from smirking.
“Why would you want to bring me pleasure? Surely, a human can’t do what a demon can for you,” he argues.
“Mm. No, you can’t.” Sitting back, you slowly cross your legs again so Jungkook gets a faint glimpse of your inner thighs. “But the thing is, I was made for the benefit of humans, not other demons or myself. This is true fulfillment for me.”
You can hear the blood in Jungkook’s veins rushing down to his lower half.
“If that’s the case, who am I to stop you?”
This little human just keeps surprising you. Not only does he ask all the right questions, but he’s effortlessly following your every move.
Since he’s obviously buying into what you’re offering, you decide to shift the conversation to the actual focal point of the evening.
“Have you ever eaten pussy, Jungkook?”
The poor man damn near chokes on his own saliva.
“Of — of course, I have,” he defends himself.
You raise your hands in surrender.
“Just asking,” you sing-song before continuing your line of questioning. “Are you any good at it?”
Jungkook’s expression turns boastful.
“I haven’t had any complaints.”
It’s along with a head tilt and taunting smile that you respond.
“Well, that’s not a very high standard. Now is it?”
The vision of his face twisting into someone with something to prove ignites your ambition. You’re well aware of his competitive nature and using it to your advantage seems to do the trick because he stands up like a man on a mission.
Before he’s able to close the distance, you raise your hand to halt his movements.
“On your knees,” you command.
“Pardon?”
“Get on your knees for me, Jungkook.” You feign innocence by tilting your head again. “Isn’t that a sign of respect in your culture?”
He obeys without another word, maintaining your sharp gaze as he kneels down before you. His eyebrows rise afterwards to silently request further instruction, which you provide by smirking and pointing at the ground with your forefinger.
You watch with heat in your irises while he bends over until he’s deeply bowing to you. It gives you a gorgeous view of his back muscles and triceps rippling beneath his leather jacket. He’s such a good little mortal, and you truly can’t wait to tear him to shreds with your teeth. Metaphorically, of course.
Once he returns to his previous position, he rests his hands on his knees to await your next move.
“Crawl.”
The demand causes his brow to scrunch, but he doesn’t open his mouth to argue. He just moves to all fours while staring you down as though to confirm this is what you want. When you nod, he begins crawling across the floor like a predator to its prey. Ironic, given that it’s quite the opposite.
Witnessing him on his hands and knees, slowly moving closer, is quite the sight to behold. Especially because his eyes are boring into your own with an intense, sexual fire. He even seems to be purposely crossing the room at a snail’s pace to prolong the journey and leave you waiting.
You gotta hand it to him, he certainly knows how to be seductive.
Once he’s close enough, you lift your leg to stop him by driving your stiletto into his chest. He hisses, but the sound goes contrary to the avarice light that flickers awake in his eyes.
Your foot keeps him still while you take the time to survey all his features up close. It’s impressive how seamlessly he’s able to switch between demure and devious. On stage, during his performance, you could’ve easily confused him for one of your own, but upon entering the dressing room he looked boyish and pure.
You use your heel to open up his shirt a little more, allowing you to see the hard lines of his collarbones and chest. From there, you drag your foot down until it pops open all the buttons and unveils his salacious abdominal muscles.
“My, my. You really are striking for a human,” you compliment him.
There’s a faint red line down his torso from where your shoe scraped his skin and it makes you want to trail your nails down his body in the exact same manner. Maybe your tongue, too.
Alas, you’re a temptress, and these things take time. If he’s ever going to agree to join you in the underworld for all eternity, you’ll need him totally wrapped around your finger.
“And you’re the most gorgeous being I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he parries.
That’s certainly a start.
“Oh, aren’t you just sweeter than candy?”
His eyes look like miniature galaxies as he admires you from below, full of both wonderment and inexplicable desire.
“Can I touch you?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid to shatter the tension in the air.
You pretend to think it over by pursing your lips before inevitably sending him a masterful grin.
“Beg for it.”
Jungkook doesn’t waste any time before lurching forward so he can kiss your skin beginning at your ankle and then up your calf. He even delicately holds your knee in place while traveling one smooch at a time up your leg. Feeling his soft lips on you is foreign since no demon has ever granted you such gentle affection, but you can’t deny how enjoyable it is.
“Please.” He stops near your knee to gaze up at you with huge, pleading eyes. “Let me taste you, Y/N.”
Oh, he’s good.
“You better not disappoint me, Jungkook,” you respond.
His lips form a sinister smirk.
“I can assure you, it’s not in my nature. I put my all into everything I do.”
“Then be my guest.”
Your approval opens the floodgates of Jungkook’s determination and his lips return to kissing along your inner thigh inch by inch. While his mouth caresses your skin, his hands slowly push your dress higher to reveal more of you.
The novel presence between your legs is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You’re certainly no stranger to intimacy, both physically with demons and mentally through your job tempting humans. But feeling Jungkook’s warm, wet mouth grazing your skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake is uniquely intoxicating.
As his head nears your center, it forces your thighs apart and you naturally sink deeper into the couch and open your legs wider. Jungkook makes himself comfortable in the space as his hands grasp your hips so he can yank you closer.
His face is just about to reach your core and contrary to your nature, you find yourself holding your breath in anticipation. He’s still mouthing at your inner thighs, even using his teeth to nibble on your supple skin. You know this game of taunting all too well, but it’s vastly different being on the opposite side of the pitch.
You hear him inhale once he reaches your cunt and the sound is followed by a low, eager groan.
“Fuck, you smell divine,” he mumbles into your underwear.
The irony of that statement isn’t lost on you in the slightest.
Jungkook quickly curls his fingers around your panties to roll them down your legs, but he takes his time pulling the fabric completely off. Following just behind where the lace is brushing against your skin, he kisses back down your opposite leg until the underwear are finally gone. He sticks them in his back pocket afterwards and when you teasingly click your tongue at him, he just smirks at you.
He dives right back in by shoving your dress past your hips so he has enough room before tugging you to the edge of the couch again. With your cunt now on full display and close enough to reach with his mouth, he takes a single lick up the entirety of your slit.
His response to finally tasting you is not only an amorous, raspy moan, but to immediately start fiercely eating you.
While his tongue moves through your folds, your head falls back and your eyes flutter shut because even though he’s only just begun, he’s unexpectedly bringing you immense pleasure already.
His mouth works tirelessly to swipe across your hole before he licks along your inner walls. When he does, the tip of his tongue brushes against the spongy spot inside you and you latch onto his hair in response. The fingernails of your opposite hand bite into the arm of the couch, steadying you as he repeats the same motions over and over again.
After a while of him collecting your essence in his mouth and swallowing it with content hums, he moves up to flick your clit with his tongue before slowly circling it. As your fingers tighten their hold on his hair and your thighs press against his ears, he flattens the muscle and moves his head side to side to provide you with even more friction. It causes a low moan to pass through your lips while your back arcs off the couch.
Jungkook’s clearly humble, because what he’s doing to you is worthy of much more praise than simply “not having any complaints.” Perhaps it’s due to him being a singer and regularly using his mouth as an instrument. Whatever it is, consider yourself impressed with this little human.
When he leaves your clit alone to sloppily kiss your pussy, you open your eyes and glance down at him between your thighs. It’s such a gorgeous view; you can see his biceps flexing from him holding your legs wide open as well as his head bobbing with each lick. Witnessing a human completely submit themselves to temptation, passion, and desire is every demon’s dream and you can’t help but let out a sigh of accomplishment.
“You’re doing so well, Jungkook,” you whisper.
He enthusiastically moans into your cunt and you can hear more blood rushing down to his cock. You almost laugh out loud at the reaction, having forgotten just how easy mortals are to please.
Your fingers still intertwined in his hair slowly push the soft, black locks away from his face so you can admire how his brow creases with sheer determination.
“Do I taste good, baby?”
Jungkook practically growls in affirmation. In fact, the sound is so visceral you can feel the vibrations in his chest against your thighs. He pauses afterwards and presses his forehead to your hip as he attempts to catch his breath through deep, heavy pants.
“So… so fucking good,” he answers. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“It’s a demon thing.”
His head shakes along with a disbelieving chuckle.
“I won’t ever be able to enjoy another woman the same way again.” He glances up and you expect his expression to be remorseful or crestfallen following such a declaration, but his eyes don’t show a single ounce of regret. It’s a good thing, really, given that he’ll never touch someone other than you again. “Can I keep going?”
You snicker and trail your hand down his profile so you can tilt his chin up. The bottom half of his face is glistening with your arousal and the sight is so sinful you know even Lucifer would be proud.
“Of course. Just don’t tire yourself out, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
He doesn’t respond besides a devilish smirk as he returns to your center to continue eating you out. The short reprieve seems to have given him a second wind because his fingers clutch your thighs even tighter and he forces his face into your cunt like he wants to drown in you.
It leaves you readjusting your own grip on the couch and in his hair as he ravenously feasts on your pussy. Not only do his noises of enjoyment return, but he also starts nodding so his nose brushes your clit while his tongue is busy deep inside your hole.
Just when you think he’ll keep going just like that, he releases one of your legs and reaches up to grope your breast. Despite you being the epitome of desire, aka having perfect tits, Jungkook’s hand is big enough to completely engulf one of them. His fingers massage your flesh at a much slower tempo than his tongue and after fondling you for some time, his pointer and middle finger begin tweaking your nipple through your dress.
Your head lulls back again as the dual ministrations bring you endless satisfaction. His mouth feels unbelievable lapping up all essence pouring out of you while his digits roll your nipple between them until it’s almost painfully hard. He eventually switches to your neglected breast, all without missing a beat between your legs.
Never has a human being astonished you quite as much as Jungkook. You suppose it makes sense given his ability to tear a hole in the barrier between worlds. But there’s still one thing you need to test him on and that’s obedience.
After releasing the couch, you wrap your fingers around Jungkook’s wrist and remove his hand from your chest. You lace your digits together instead and he doesn’t seem to mind; even humming in acknowledgment at the same time his lips move to your clit again.
“Slower, baby,” you instruct. He immediately heeds the demand and stops sucking on your pearl, switching to lazy circles with the pointed tip of his tongue. “That’s a good boy.”
Jungkook continues at the same pace, alternating between merely teasing your clit and smothering it with the flat of his tongue.
His hand on your thigh seems to be a tool for restraint because his fingertips are creating divots in your skin. Meanwhile, your free hand is still combing through his sweaty curls and he obviously enjoys the sensation because happy hums and moans keep meeting your sex.
“Think you can make me come, Jungkook?” He whimpers while vehemently nodding his head just as his mouth encases your clit to suck on your nerve endings again. You let go of his hand so it can return to your thigh while your own joins its twin on his head. “Go ahead and give it a try.”
In an act that shocks even you, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to use his leverage to push your legs into your chest as he starts going to town on your pussy.
You’re bent in half like a pretzel, which is a position you never expected a mere human to put you in, but you certainly don’t mind. It allows Jungkook’s mouth to reach every inch of your cunt and he takes full advantage of that by seamlessly fluctuating between fondling your clit and fucking you with his tongue.
He was already leading you closer to the precipice of ecstasy, but his new rhythm and vigor have you racing towards the finish line. His efforts even prompt you to drive your fingers deep into his hair and scratch at his scalp while your eyes close and your chest heaves with adrenaline.
His tongue is currently working with expert precision to lap up all your arousal, but when it seems like he’s about to move to your clit, you push his head down with both hands.
“Don’t move,” you snap.
As always, he abides by the instruction and continues without reprieve.
It doesn’t take long before you feel a familiar pressure coiling in your gut and Jungkook must realize because he ramps up his force again while groaning and clawing at your thighs. Less than a minute later the sensation snaps like a rubber band and you moan as cum paints the bottom half of his face.
Jungkook reacts instantly by wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can bring his head closer and swallow your release. He moans and whines throughout your entire climax while his tongue continuously curls your essence into his mouth. It feels phenomenal and you simply relax against the couch as he licks your cunt as if it’ll be his final meal.
In the end, you have to literally shove his face away from your center just to stop him before he runs out of air. If he suffocates, your whole plan is shot.
“Fuck,” Jungkook rasps while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sits back on his heels and attempts to steady his breathing. “I don’t even like eating pussy all that much, but you? I swear, I could do that forever.”
The comment makes you smirk. You’re more than happy to hear it considering that’s what eternity has in store for him if all goes well tonight.
With his body out of the way, you lower your legs and readjust your dress to its original position before returning to the couch.
“After a couple more lessons, I might just let you,” you confess.
You adore how Jungkook’s eyes light up at the notion and you have to refrain from celebrating too soon, but it certainly seems like everything’s going according to plan.
“How would that even work?”
Along with his question, he stands and brushes any dirt off his leather pants before pointing to the spot beside you to silently ask if he can sit. You respond affirmatively by patting the furniture and sliding over to create more room for him.
“We can talk about that later.”
Once he’s sitting, you reach out to tuck some hair behind his ear with a warm smile. He practically melts into your touch by leaning his head against your palm, reminding you yet again just how easily humans fall for you. Even smart ones like Jungkook.
Another reminder follows soon after when he begins encroaching on your space with pursed lips. It sets off multiple alarms in your mind and you quickly cover his mouth with your free hand to halt him.
Jungkook’s brow creases in confusion before he retreats with a pout.
“I can’t kiss you?”
Holy hades, you never expected him to be so damn endearing. Especially after what he just did to you.
“Not yet,” you inform him while dropping your hands to your lap.
“Why not?”
He’s still pouting and his eyes are sparkling with longing for you. If you were any weaker of a demon, you might actually give in.
His question is still a problem, though, because you can’t lie to him, but you also don’t want to reveal too much yet.
“It’s complicated.”
That is the truth, albeit missing all the details of the real reason. Thankfully, Jungkook doesn’t pry any further.
“Then how else do you plan to corrupt me, Y/N?” He asks instead.
Gone is the lovesick puppy as his sensual demeanor returns with a vengeance. His eyes trace over all your pretty curves on display across from him while he licks his lips and leans back on his palms.
Your view is equally as enticing because his shirt is still ripped open to show off his toned stomach and pecs. Plus his semi-hard cock is obviously suffocating in his pants and with his legs spread, you can tell how big he is.
Rather than answering, you lay your hand on his upper thigh before tauntingly inching towards his crotch. You hold his gaze the entire time until your fingers finally graze his dick and he closes his eyes with a wanton moan.
“Probably like this,” you tease.
Jungkook throws his head back when you begin rubbing him over his pants as one of his hands clutches the back of the couch for support.
“Holy shit.” The poor thing must be touch starved if he’s this reactive. “Pl… please.”
“When’s the last time someone touched you, Jungkook?”
He grimaces and lifts his head to catch your eye.
“It isn’t exactly easy… being an idol and all,” he explains. “It’s — fuck. Fuck, that feels so good.” You notice his fingers digging into the material of the couch so he can focus on talking. “It’s too risky to hook up with non-idols because they might tell someone or run to the press. That leaves you with no choice but to fuck other idols, but everyone’s either too busy or already messing around with someone else.”
Well, that explains why he barely put up a fight after finding out what you are. All his sexual prowess is going to waste here in the mortal world. It’s a good thing you showed up when you did.
“Oh, my poor baby.” Jungkook’s heavy-lidded eyes widen when you kneel on the couch and rest your opposite hand on his thigh. “I’ll make it all better, okay?”
“Wait.” His free hand grabs your own, but conveniently not the one still on his dick. “Are you seriously about to suck me off?”
His innocence makes you giggle.
“I wouldn’t be a very good demon of desire if I didn’t give you precisely what you desire. Now would I?”
You wink at him before bending over and replacing your hand with your mouth. As soon as your lips caress his bulge, Jungkook’s hips buck towards your face and he groans so loud he has to muffle himself with his palm.
It elicits a smirk as you kiss him through his pants and run your hands all along his thighs. His responsiveness is downright addictive, both when he provides pleasure and receives it. Especially when he squeezes your hand every time your mouth makes contact with the leather covering his twitching cock.
While your other hand moves to undo his belt without ceasing your actions, Jungkook whines and you hear his fingernails scraping the couch.
“Oh, God,” he rasps, but it’s barely audible. Nevertheless, you halt and peer up with a daunting head tilt and once Jungkook notices, his eyes bulge. “Right. Sorry.”
All you grant him is a few disapproving clicks of your tongue before you finish removing his belt and pull his pants down past his knees. There’s a wet spot on his boxers that fills you with satisfaction as you trace the shape of him through the material. He looks big, even obstructed, and you’re eager to witness every inch of him with your own eyes.
“Would you look at that,” you note. “You keep surprising me, mortal.”
You can’t see the grin behind Jungkook’s hand, but it’s clear there is one because his eyes light up in response to your praise. Although, the brilliance flickers into something much darker when you slip your fingers into his waistband. He automatically lifts his hips so you can yank the material to the floor without ever breaking eye contact.
Once his cock is free, it springs up and causes you to smile in delight. Not only is he both long and thick, but it’s honestly one of the most gorgeous dicks you’ve ever seen. His skin looks so soft, is the perfect shade, and the large veins running down his shaft are pulsing with need. Plus it curves just enough where you know he’ll hit the right spot every time.
Demons have the same external anatomy as humans, so this certainly isn’t a new sight, but he also gives some of your previous partners a run for their money. Even though most of them were created to be the “perfect” man.
“You’re just pretty all over. Aren’t you, Jungkook?”
He isn’t able to respond before you flatten your tongue across his head to slurp up the precum pooling there. Jungkook damn near screams while tipping his head back and exposing his throat. The veins in his neck even make an appearance from the strain on his voice.
You don’t give him any reprieve and immediately begin circling his sensitive ridge with the tip of your tongue. It leaves him helplessly gasping into his hand as his thighs shake under your palms.
“Ahh, fuck,” Jungkook cries when you slowly lick down his entire shaft.
There’s a harsh scraping sound from his nails biting into the leather as he attempts to remain in control and the amount of pride it brings you is boundless. You would love nothing more than to just listen to him lose himself in ecstasy all night long.
“Does that feel good, baby?”
Jungkook aggressively whines and nods his head.
“Please, Y/N… please don’t stop.”
Luckily for him, you’re more than ready to feel the weight of him inside your mouth and down your throat. But you do still take some time to tease him.
It begins with a light flick of your tongue across the delicate skin at the base of his cock, where his balls are already fraught with tension. From there you drag the wet muscle upwards inch by inch while tracing the veins pumping blood into his dick and making him agonizingly hard.
Upon returning to his tip, you give him a couple chaste kisses until he whimpers for more. The sound is music to your ears.
He’s sweating now; you can smell it on him as well as see droplets on his forehead and running down his pecs. It gives him a glistening appearance as the light catches and highlights all the stunning valleys of his body. You decide then and there you want to trail your tongue over every inch of his muscular torso. That’ll be the first item on your to-do list once you return home.
“If you want this, you have to ask me properly,” you instruct.
His needy eyes meet your own in a silent plea, but your expression remains sinister and sultry. When he realizes he has no choice but to appease you, his hand falls to his stomach and his stare softens even more.
“I’ll do anything you ask, just please suck my dick. I wanna feel how warm and wet your mouth is; see how deep you can take me.” He sighs as his focus flickers down to his rock hard shaft. “I think I might actually die if you don’t.”
“Hmm. Well, we wouldn’t want that.” You pretend to ponder the request while drawing nonsensical shapes on his thighs. “But I think you need to be more specific.”
Jungkook looks like he’s about to burst into tears of frustration. It causes his eyes to shimmer and you can’t help but admire how pretty they are like that.
“Please… I can’t…”
His desperation is truly exhilarating, but you still help him out by breaking down the request.
“Do you want me to use my tongue?” He nods like he’s in a trance. “Yeah? Want me to lap up all this precum and soak your cock in my drool?”
“Fuck,” Jungkook whines.
“I know you’ve got a larger vocabulary than that, Jungkook. Use your words.”
“Yes. Yes, I want that.”
A smirk appears the longer you witness him teetering on the edge of insanity.
“Good boy,” you respond. “Do you want to feel my mouth around you?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
You feel his leg muscles tensing with restraint and his blood even starts pumping faster through his veins when his heart rate skyrockets.
“I… I want you to… to swallow my cock as far as it can go down your throat; over and over again.”
“What else?”
He grinds his teeth together as a pained growl passes through his lips, but he still manages to answer you.
“Want you to choke on my cum when it spills inside your mouth.”
If that isn’t precisely what you were hoping to hear, you don’t know what is.
You’re quite proud of your little human; he’s doing so well considering how far gone he is. You can sense adrenaline overpowering his nervous system as his body yearns for your touch. Most people wouldn’t even be able to utter a single coherent sentence in this state.
“And how bad do you want me to do that, Jungkook?”
The submission seems to snap out of him as his eyes turn into thin slits full of determination. Just as planned, you're clearly pushing him right up against his breaking point.
“I would kill for it,” he declares.
Shit, you’re about to have him so corrupted by the end of the night he’ll practically be part demon.
Rather than continue to question him, you finally cease your torment by kissing and kitten licking his slit so you can swallow his precum, just as you said. He must be healthy because the taste makes you moan in appreciation while your tongue glides across his skin. Once you’re satisfied with how shiny his cockhead is, you wrap your lips around his tip and hollow your cheeks.
Jungkook officially loses it and literally tears a hole in the couch. His other hand creates thin, red streaks on his own abdominal muscles as he screams, his jaw clenches, and the veins in his neck pop out again. It’s genuinely one of the sexiest sights you’ve ever witnessed and you momentarily admire him deep in euphoria before moving further down his shaft.
With every inch you take, Jungkook’s body reacts tenfold. You can hear his blood coursing through his veins like ferocious rapids, his heartbeat thumping like a beast in a cage, and his lungs attempting to push as much oxygen out as possible. Not to mention the potent scent of his arousal, exhilaration, and pure testosterone infiltrating your nostrils.
By the time your lips are entirely stretched around his girth and your nose is buried in his pubic hair, it seems as though his sanity is holding on by a threat. He’s endlessly moaning and panting while all his muscles flex and his skin flushes a deep red.
“Holy fucking shit,” he groans and throws his head back until all you see is his sharp jawline.
Demons don’t have gag reflexes because you’re crafted with human desire in mind. So, it’s easy to hold your position even with his big cock stuffed deep down in your esophagus.
You suction your lips to make a tighter hole and then swallow so your throat constricts around his tip. It causes Jungkook to choke on air while the hand on his stomach instinctively flies to your head. He desperately latches onto your hair until the strands knot around his fingers, using the brutish grip to ground himself.
Once you sense his body relaxing, you slowly rise and lay your tongue out so it caresses the underside of his dick as you go.
“Fuuuck.”
Jungkook’s nails scratch your scalp when you reach his head again and suckle on it before swallowing his entire length once more. You begin bobbing at a leisurely tempo as your tongue keeps him lubricated and applies pressure to the sensitive ridges of his cock. All while your lips remain in a taught circle so the friction is just right.
It’s obviously exactly what he needed because he’s still reacting like you’re sucking the very soul out of him. Each time his tip sinks down your throat he cries out and tugs on your hair, producing a sinful melody of sloppy, wet movements and nonsensical whines.
“Y/N, you’re… you’re killing me.”
Your responding giggle sends vibrations down his shaft and elicits another gasp from above. You free him so you can reply, but Jungkook whimpers at the sudden lack of warmth.
“I’ve only just begun, baby,” you retort.
He blows air out of his mouth and releases the tattered couch to push his hair away from his face.
“I know. I need more.”
“More?”
The demand sends your eyebrows up your forehead. You were going slow for his benefit because you know he’ll be embarrassed if he blows his load in less than five seconds. Which is precisely what’ll happen if you pick up the pace. But if that’s his wish, who are you to deny him?
“Mmhm,” he reaffirms. “I want you to do your worst.”
Your head tilts as you silently challenge his request, but Jungkook holds firm and doesn’t sever your eye contact. Impressive.
“It’s your funeral, dollface.”
Without another word, you completely encompass his dick again and return to your previous endeavor, but at a much quicker pace. It’s clear Jungkook didn’t realize what he was asking for because almost immediately his noises double in volume and his opposite hand joins the one on your head.
His fingers fumble around your skull for something to grasp, but it takes him a moment to secure your hair in his fist because your head is rising and falling too fast.
“Ah. Ah, fuck.”
Not only are you rapidly bobbing, but your mouth’s tension is tighter and you purposely swallow whenever he’s stuffed down your throat. You keep your tongue flat as well so you can taste all the precum spilling from his slit due to him nearing a climax.
As if that isn’t enough, you also let go of his thigh to cradle his balls. That one touch alone is all it takes for Jungkook to wail and force your face down as he comes in your mouth in violent spurts of white.
You enthusiastically moan while his cock twitches and drenches your throat in his seed, but you don’t swallow. Instead, you wait until his orgasm ends to lift your head before crawling over his shaking torso. Upon reaching his face, you tug on his chin so his jaw drops open and hover as close as possible to spit the warm liquid into his mouth.
“Swallow,” you order while forcing his lips closed again. His throat bobs when he instantly obeys and eats his own cum, bringing a devilish smile to your face. “Mm, my baby’s such a good listener.”
Jungkook is still panting as his mind and body settle into normalcy, but he manages to nod in agreement.
“Could never… say no… to you,” he confesses.
“Is that right?”
His head moves up and down again, but you can tell it’s totally mindless. You sit back on your heels in the space between his knees and wait for his return to earth, which takes another couple minutes.
“Holy shit.”
He pushes his hair back a few times before shaking his head like he's trying to right his brain. His eyes eventually land on you just ahead of him and a spark of desire flickers in the dark brown pools. His natural reaction makes you grin again, albeit far less mischievous than your last one.
“How are you doing?”
Jungkook chuckles in disbelief.
“I’ve never experienced something so intense in my whole life,” he claims.
“Told you.”
You reach out to trace the scratch marks on his abs and his eyes follow the movement, but then he surprises you by catching your wrist.
“I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy a blowjob from someone else again.”
Well, of course not.
“I know,” you respond with a faux sympathetic frown. “But that can be easily solved.”
“How?”
Both the unease that crosses his features and the anxiety radiating from him prompt you to comfort him by straddling his lap.
When you sit on his thighs, your bare pussy lands right on his cock that’s still partially hard. The contact makes him groan as his hands find your hips and he starts drawing lazy circles with his fingertips while your own trail up his chest.
“By coming with me.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen and his hands cease their expedition as he digests your answer.
“Come with you where?”
It seems like he already has an inclination.
“To Hell, of course.”
With his suspicions confirmed, his fear spikes and you feel his fingers flexing at your sides. You attempt to soothe him by caressing his collarbones and shoulders, which at least causes his heartbeat to slow down a little.
“Could I come and go?”
“No, baby. It would have to be forever.”
“Can’t you just stay here?”
His gentle optimism tugs at your heart strings, even if just a little bit.
“Unfortunately not. The tear you caused only allows me to pass through for one night. If I’m here any longer than that, I’ll cease to exist,” you explain.
He compulsively chews on his bottom lip while his eyes follow the motion of his own hands along your waist.
“But what about my fans, my family, my… my members?”
Before answering, you tilt his chin up so you can see his eyes which are swimming with indecision. You then paint a pout on your lips and allow a wave of hurt to overtake your face.
Just because you can’t lie, doesn’t mean you can’t manipulate.
“Don’t you want to be with me, Jungkook?”
“Of course, I do,” he immediately assures you.
“Then what’s the problem?”
Feigning ignorance is always a good trick for making human men fall straight into your clutches. It also helps that Jungkook’s already deep in your web and all you have to do is spin the silk.
“I would be giving up my entire life; my career, my loved ones.”
You thoughtfully hum for a moment before leaning in so you can whisper in his ear. As your lips graze his cartilage, he shivers beneath you and you’re certain you’ve got him.
“But you would have me.” Jungkook moans when you softly bite his earlobe while digging your nails into his chest. “It could be just you and me for all eternity, baby. Just like this.”
To amplify your point, you grind down in his lap so he can feel your wet cunt gliding across his dick.
“Fuck, I…” He pauses at the same time his hands grip your waist tighter. “I want that. I swear, I do, but I need to think about it.”
“Of course,” you concur and lift your head to meet his gaze. “I would never expect you to make such a big decision without plenty of consideration first.”
Jungkook hums in approval as he traces your curves until his fingers are gently resting on your neck.
“Can I finally kiss you now?” When you shake your head, he aggressively pouts. “Why not?”
His expression unintentionally brings a smile to your face. You never expected to feel so charmed by a mere mortal, but Jungkook seems to be one-of-a-kind.
“Kissing me is your one-way ticket to Hell.”
“How?”
“If you kiss me, we’ll both be instantly transported there. So, I suppose it’s really up to you.”
For a split second it almost seems like he’ll say “fuck it” and plant his lips on yours, but he inevitably just nods.
“Can I still… can we keep going? Even though I haven’t decided yet?”
The question makes you smirk and playfully tilt your head.
“Can you handle that?”
You grind against him again, causing his head to tip back in ecstasy while his cock grows harder underneath you. As you continue pulling yourself across his thighs, Jungkook’s hands creep up into your hair before he tugs hard to expose your throat. His lips attach themselves to your skin where he sucks and licks across your neck with a possessive growl.
Although you know feeling your pussy on his dick is driving him wild, it’s just as wonderful for you. He’s fully erect again and the friction caused by your fluid, repetitive movements feels incredible, especially on your clit. You could definitely make you both come just like this, but you’re dying to have him buried deep inside you already.
His lips are relentlessly painting your throat in saliva while his fingers roam your scalp and knot your hair. He’s clearly the type of person who wants to touch you everywhere and you’re more than willing to let him. Similarly, you spend your time mapping his pecs and abs before eventually shoving his shirt and jacket off to reveal his upper body.
Jungkook takes the hint and releases your head so he can finish removing his clothes, all without pausing his kisses on your neck.
“Wanna see you,” he whispers into your skin.
“Be my guest.”
There isn’t an ounce of hesitation when he snatches the bottom hem of your dress to yank it over your head. He sits back to admire you in your entirety for the first time and he must like what he sees because his eyes expand into massive, starry globes.
“Damn.”
His hands reclaim your waist so he can slowly traverse your body. He glides over your hips and up your ribs until he reaches your breasts and cups them in his big hands. You moan in tandem as his fingers squeeze and massage your flesh, with Jungkook seemingly hypnotized by the sight.
He’s gentle with you despite the fact that you’re still lackadaisically humping each other. If you didn’t know any better you would think he’s never seen a pair of tits before based on how adorably curious he looks. But perhaps it’s just you he’s so entranced by.
“Am I everything you were hoping for, Jungkook?”
You already know the answer. No human could ever disagree with that statement, but you want to hear his response regardless.
It takes him a second to process the question since he’s still hyperfocused on the way your supple skin pops out between his digits, but he eventually blinks and returns his gaze to your face.
“No.” He shakes his head. “You’re more. So much fucking more.”
The next thing you know his head dips so he can encase one nipple in his mouth while tweaking the other between his thumb and forefinger. On instinct, your hand rises to his hair where you sink your fingers into the sea of curly, black strands. He hums in appreciation while his lips and teeth work together to turn your nub sensitive and hard. Once he’s satisfied, he switches sides to repeat the motions.
He then kisses across the swell of your breasts while his hands continue to caress your skin. Puffs of air created by his pleasurable groans tickle the wet spots he’s leaving on you until he finally returns to kissing your neck.
It feels like he’s worshipping you and although you’re used to humans being in awe of you, this is something else entirely. You can’t tell if it’s because you did such an amazing job reeling him in or if Jungkook is just a naturally devoted person. Either way, you’re more than willing to let him keep going uninterrupted. It isn’t everyday you get to take a backseat in these situations.
“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he notes following a final smooch to your jugular. “Just absolutely fucking perfect.”
You chuckle.
“That’s the whole point, dollface,” you counter.
Jungkook parrots your laugh at the same time he lifts his head to look at you again. His eyes are so expressive and he doesn’t hold back in using them to show his obvious reverence for you.
Upon witnessing his affectionate gaze, you smirk and shove his shoulder so he falls back into the couch. He grunts in surprise before the sound morphs into a lighthearted giggle.
His hands automatically find your hips to continue guiding you back and forth across his lap. By now, his cock is practically coated in your arousal and it would be far too easy to sheath him inside your warm walls.
Alas, he’s still human, and you don’t want to break him before you buy him. Figuratively speaking.
“Are you sure you can keep going? I know that blowjob really drained you.”
Your fingertips are absentmindedly tracing the crevices of his abdominal muscles and Jungkook smiles at the tickling sensation.
“I rehearse my songs while running on a treadmill. Trust me, I’ve got plenty of stamina.”
“Well, I sure hope so.” While bending down so you’re nose to nose, you slide your hands up and over his chest until they land on his shoulders. “Because we’re not stopping until I’m completely satisfied.”
His grin grows to the point his eyes turn into little crescents.
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
Following his reply, he pitches his hips up to send his cock straight into your clit. The friction forces your eyes into your skull and Jungkook has the nerve to giggle at your expense.
He’s quite the enigma; flipping from begging to taunting at the drop of a hat. It intrigues you more than you care to admit, but you suppose that’s a good thing if he’s going to be yours forever.
Before he can pull another stunt, you use his shoulders to push yourself upright again. Jungkook’s eyes follow the movement with a flicker of heat and you even feel his dick twitching. It’s an adorably human trait of his. You barely have to do anything to make him all starry-eyed.
One of your hands slides down his chest for support while the other sneaks between your bodies. You kneel so you have enough room to wrap your fingers around his shaft, allowing you to stroke him into the perfect seat.
When you start lowering your body, Jungkook moans with his eyes fixated on the sight of you nearing his cock. Then once his tip kisses your entrance, the sound becomes a deep groan and he slams his head into the couch.
“Oh, shit,” he hisses.
Nothing more than his cockhead is inside you, but you can’t really blame him for losing it already. Human women are downright incomparable to you, and the farther he slips inside your velvet walls, the louder and more strained his voice becomes. Plus his hands are desperately clawing at your waist like he won’t survive without touching you.
“Shh.” You pacify him by running your fingertips all along his pecs and collarbones. “Just breathe, baby.”
“I don’t know if I can. You’re so fucking tight.”
“Well, it isn’t just me.” With a smirk, your fingers dance up to his neck where you apply the lightest amount of pressure. “You’re so big, Jungkook.”
He chuckles and lifts his head to meet your gaze. There’s a proud smile gracing his lips, but it vanishes when you finish sitting on his thighs so his entire length is suddenly nestled inside your cunt.
“Ahh, God!”
“Hey!” You squeeze the sides of his throat, causing him to gasp and arch his back. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“I’m sorry.”
His big, puppy eyes are staring up at you and it’s almost enough to make you relent.
“God’s not here, baby. Quite the opposite.”
Just to prove a point, you turn your eyes crimson again. But much to your surprise, Jungkook looks more aroused than scared. He proceeds to genuinely shock you by moving his hand from your hip to your cheek before gently running his thumb back and forth across your skin.
“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”
For a split second you actually feel your heart flutter inside your chest, but then you notice the mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Are you trying to distract me?”
Jungkook’s lips form a smirk to match his playful irises.
“Is it working?”
Rather than responding, you use your free hand to remove his own from your face and force it above his head. He grunts and pushes against your grasp with a determined expression, but you don’t let him budge an inch.
“Not even close,” you sneer.
“No?” Jungkook wraps his opposite arm around your waist and thrusts up, sending his cock into your g-spot and pulling a low whine from you in the process. When he laughs at your reaction, you can’t help but admire this more devious side of him. “You know, you’re not as scary as you seem.”
Now that just won’t do. Sure, you’ll admit you have a soft spot for this particular mortal, but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to believe he has any real power. To rectify his perception, you tighten your grip around his throat until he gasps again and his eyes roll back from the pleasure.
“You don’t think so?” He moans as you continue to apply pressure. “I could do so much to you, Jungkook. Your precious little life lies entirely in my hands.”
“Then take it,” he grunts before his eyes fly open so he can stare you down. “I’m yours, anyway.”
Oh?
Well, you’ve clearly succeeded in tempting him past the point of no return. Either that or he’s an exceptional poker player who knows when to call a bluff.
You decide to match his energy by bending over until your lips are only centimeters apart. Even the slightest movement from either of you could end Jungkook’s life as he knows it.
“Just one kiss and your days as a human end right here, right now.”
Jungkook merely smiles in return before pursing his lips, causing you to hold your breath in anticipation, but all he does is kiss the tip of your nose.
“Can’t wait.”
Fuck. As if he couldn’t get any damn hotter. There's nothing you love more than clear and utter devotion.
A pregnant pause passes over the room while you rise to your previous position. Jungkook tightens his arm around your waist to keep you perched in his lap, but you don’t let him leave it there for long.
“Nuh uh. Other hand, too.”
You press down on his trapped palm to illustrate your instruction, causing Jungkook to pout.
“But I wanna feel you.”
“You can touch me once you make me come. If you make me come,” you explain.
A resolute fire burns in his irises as he raises his opposite arm and lets you cross his wrists so you can keep him pinned to the couch with one hand.
He honestly looks unbelievable in this position. The drastic dichotomy between his big biceps and tiny waist is perfectly showcased for your admiration. If only you had more hands to explore his every vein and muscle while you fuck.
Jungkook must take notice of where your focus is because he tilts his hips up again to catch your attention.
“Like what you see?”
You tsk at him and shake your head. His confidence is undeniably sexy, but it’s also about time he remembers his place.
After moving your hand up from his neck, you force your two middle fingers into his mouth. Jungkook initially yelps in shock, but soon enough he hollows his cheeks and starts sucking on your digits.
While he zealously follows your command, you slowly push and pull your appendages in and out of his mouth. It leaves his chin shiny with spit as it dribbles out past his lips.
“Now I like what I see.”
Jungkook hums in approval while his tongue twirls around and in between your fingers. You have him right where you want him now; totally restrained by one hand and gagged by the other. If there were ever a time to fuck him into submission, it would be this moment.
So, you kneel far enough to leave only his tip inside you before slamming back down.
A muffled shriek is all you hear besides the wet squelch of your pussy sucking him in once again. His hands flex in your grasp as the rest of his body tenses and writhes in pleasure. Best of all, you don’t allow him to fully recover from the overwhelming ecstasy before you begin bouncing on his thighs.
Following just the first couple strokes, your pussy vehemently pulses and contracts because of how phenomenal riding Jungkook’s cock feels. Not only is his head seamlessly hitting your cervix, but he’s the perfect thickness to provide friction everywhere you need him to. You also grind against his pelvis on every downward thrust, stimulating your clit exactly how you like.
Jungkook’s own enjoyment is quite obvious, given that he hasn’t stopped shouting and his entire body reacts to every little thing you do. He’s sweating like a racehorse, his chest and neck are bright red from all the blood rushing through his veins, and you can smell the scent of exhilaration coming off of him in waves.
Even so, he still manages to meet each of your thrusts with one of his own from below. It seems he wasn’t exaggerating about putting his all into everything he does.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” you encourage him.
He moans at your praises while staring at you with those big, obsidian eyes you can’t get enough of. The comment must ignite something in him because he ramps up both the force and speed of his movements until he’s almost doing all the work. In fact, his actions are so harsh you have to pull your fingers from his mouth so you can hold onto his chest for support.
You hear him gasp once your digits are gone, but it quickly becomes a whimper when you start bucking your hips to match his pace. It creates a ferocious, sensual clapping sound of skin meeting skin that reverberates off the walls along with your tandem whines.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Jungkook’s head is pointed towards the ceiling now as he mindlessly chants, but you want to witness his handsome face contorting with pleasure. So, you grab his chin and pull his focus back to you.
“Speechless, huh?”
All he can muster is a weak nod.
Before the ability to speak returns to him, you lean over and lick up the side of his neck. The tip of your tongue traces his jugular while the large vein erratically pulses beneath his skin. Afterwards, you nibble on his earlobe and trail your lips back down via wet kisses along his throat.
The sensation of your hot lips dancing across his skin produces a growl from deep within his chest. You can tell he longs to return the favor, too, because he keeps thrashing against your hand that’s still holding his own hostage.
“I won’t… I won’t last,” he confesses. “You feel too damn amazing.”
“Excuse me?”
Within a split second, you sit upright again and use your free hand to slap him before harshly clutching his face; letting your fingertips dig into his round cheeks.
“Oh, fuck!”
“I don’t fucking think so,” you snap. “You don’t come until I say you do. Got that?”
“Ye… yes.”
Despite agreeing without any hesitation, it’s easier said than done, and you can feel him clenching his abdominal muscles in an attempt to control his release.
“Atta boy.”
You return your hand to his neck again and Jungkook moans while his eyes roll back. It’s stupidly attractive how much he enjoys being treated like your very own sex toy, including having his air supply severed.
After successfully stopping himself from letting go too soon, his disastrous tempo from before returns in full force. It feels fucking exquisite, and the melody of synchronized cries filling the room certainly proves that.
Although Jungkook’s working hard beneath you, the credit isn’t solely his own. You’re still expertly riding his dick like it’s the last thing you’ll do. Since you don’t ever get tired or feel any aches, it’s all too easy to continue bouncing up and down in his lap while grinding your hips together.
Truthfully, you didn’t think a human could ever provide you with such ecstasy, but fate must have played a large role in Jungkook being the one to break the barrier between your worlds.
Even so, it seems he’s still willing to give you more.
“Let me go so I can fuck you like you deserve,” he breathlessly pleads.
You aren’t normally one to go back on your word, but you’re intrigued to see what he can accomplish with the use of his hands.
“Don’t make me regret this, Jungkook.”
As soon as you release his wrists and hold onto his chest instead, he gropes your hips and plants his feet against the couch. He proceeds to ruthlessly pound into you while using his newfound grasp to force your body down, making his dick reach entirely new depths inside you.
The adjustment is so abrupt and animalistic you have no choice but to drive your nails into his pecs to keep yourself steady. There’s no longer anything for you to do besides hang on for the ride, although you keep contracting your muscles so your pussy squeezes Jungkook’s cock every time he sinks into you again.
“Oh, just like that,” you keen as your head lulls back.
“I wanna feel you let go. Want you to fucking soak my cock in cum.”
You chuckle and press down on the sides of his throat.
“Then you better make me.”
Jungkook takes your words to heart. Somehow, in complete contrast to what a human should be able to do, he escalates his efforts even further until the couch beneath you starts rattling and creaking like it’ll combust if you keep going any longer.
It leaves you speechless, to be quite honest. Not even a demon has fucked you so ferociously before and they don’t have any physical limitations.
Your body usually requires an excessive amount of stimulation to reach a climax, but you can already feel an orgasm looming just off the horizon with how hard Jungkook is working to break you off.
“Feels so good, Jungkook.”
“Come for me,” he pants. “Please, Y/N.”
There’s no point in holding back from giving him what he wants. Besides, his dick furiously moving in and out of your cunt and rubbing against your swollen walls feels too damn good to even attempt it.
When your muscles brutally constrict before relaxing around Jungkook, not only does it pull a low moan from your lips, but he gasps and throws his head back. Your pussy drowns his length in sticky arousal that makes it effortless for him to keep fucking you throughout the high. Additionally, his fingertips create deep divots in your skin as he refrains from following you straight into the pool of euphoria threatening to drag him under.
Just like everything prior, the sensation is undeniably amazing. Your climax erupts in your core and spreads through your entire body, seeping into every vein and nerve like a tsunami of pleasure. It unintentionally causes you to scratch Jungkook’s chest and tighten your grip on his throat, something you only realize when you hear his breathing turn shallow and ragged.
You quickly remove your hand from his neck for a reprieve and Jungkook takes a sharp inhale to refill his lungs. Meanwhile, you paint more red streaks on his tender skin by dragging your nails all the way down his abs.
“Fuck,” he sighs before finally halting the avid movement of his hips.
“Mm.” After sitting up in his lap, you start drawing little shapes along the taut ridges of his stomach. “You were great, baby.”
A tired, smug grin forms on Jungkook’s lips.
“Thank you.”
The genuine gratitude in his voice makes you smile.
“In fact, you did such a wonderful job that I think I’ll let you come next time,” you offer.
Your comment makes Jungkook’s eyes light up as he wraps an arm around your waist so he can lean against the armrest and still keep you seated on his cock.
“You mean it?”
“Well, you have to keep up the good work, but I’d argue you deserve it.”
Jungkook’s expression morphs into a proud smirk as his eyes flit around your face.
“How do you want me?”
“Now that’s a tough question.” It takes you a minute to ponder a response and you glide your fingertips back up his chest while you decide. “Because I would love for you to take me from the back, but then I don’t get to see this handsome face.”
You clutch his jaw and wiggle his head back and forth to make your point, causing Jungkook to blush and squeeze his eyes shut with a sweet laugh.
It’s still surprising how much you adore his mannerisms considering you thrive on sin and corruption, but what’s downright jarring is how easily he can switch between different personas. He’s clearly talented in the bedroom and can keep up with your wit and flirtations, all while being one of the most adorable humans you’ve ever encountered.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to overcompensate by fucking you as hard as I can,” he parries.
Exhibit A.
“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep, dollface.”
Jungkook gets a twinkle in his eye at your challenge and before you know it he’s laying you back on the couch, earning him an eyebrow raise.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” You don’t get a chance to continue your banter because Jungkook shocks you by flipping you over onto all fours and yanking you towards him until your ass meets his crotch. It’s quite the bold move for a mortal and you find yourself gawking at him over your shoulder. “What?” He thrusts forward so his hard cock slides between your folds and teases your clit. “You want it rough, don’t you?”
“I think you’re becoming a little too comfortable,” you note.
That damn shimmer in his eyes just grows until the whole galaxy is taunting you in a deep shade of brown.
“Confident,” he corrects you.
You click your tongue at his response before reaching back to steal one of his hands resting on your hipbone.
“Then put your money where your mouth is.”
When you place his palm on the crown of your head to imply what he should do, Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He recovers quickly, though, and soon enough heeds your demand by forcing your face into the couch cushions at the same time his other hand pushes down on your waist to make your back arch.
“My pleasure,” he grunts across another thrust that sinks his cock deep inside you again.
Despite experiencing this mere minutes ago, the new position and his entire length entering you at once elicits a guttural moan from you both. His dick fills you up so impeccably and from behind his tip is already kissing your cervix. He makes you feel so warm and full, but what you truly can’t wait for is the sensation of his cum seeping into your cunt.
Jungkook still hasn’t moved since sheathing himself within your satin walls because he’s too busy savoring the moment. You can hear him groaning behind you and his grasp on both your head and hip are becoming bruising.
“You doing alright back there?”
He produces a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff.
“I didn’t think it was possible for you to feel any tighter, but this angle is fucking insane.”
His hips rear back before you can respond and suddenly he’s fucking you with the force of a thousand men again. Due to your face being smushed against the leather, you can’t do much but moan and maintain your position while Jungkook relentlessly abuses your g-spot.
It feels phenomenal and you know without a shadow of a doubt that bringing home with you is a nonnegotiable. There’s not a chance in Hell you’ll ever let this be the last time he stretches you apart on his cock.
“Holy fucking shit,” Jungkook curses under his breath. “Feels so fucking good.”
Along with his mindless ramblings, he pushes down harder on your head while gripping your ass with his opposite hand until your flesh bulges out between his digits. A moment later, a stinging sensation follows the loud clap caused by him spanking you.
“Shit, do that again,” you moan.
Jungkook instantly obeys and smacks you as hard as he can, making you lurch forward until he grabs the meat of your ass again to yank you back into him.
“So even a demon likes being fucked like a slut, huh?”
His statement causes you to snicker and turn your head so you can see him.
“Only when the person’s doing it right,” you counter.
The last thing you witness before Jungkook shoves your face back down is a proud grin.
His attention returns to the main event afterwards and you have to admit both the strength and tempo of his strokes are beyond ambitious. He’s railing into you as though he’s the immortal being and it sends your eyes rolling straight into your skull.
You’ve always loved this position, but doing it with Jungkook is an exceptional experience. Between his pelvis repeatedly meeting your ass, his balls slapping your clit, and his big cock molding your walls into his shape, you can’t fathom a more erotic combination.
In fact, it’s so immaculate you can already feel another climax building in your gut. All you need is just a little more effort from the man currently spearing you on his dick. Not because it’s necessary to make you come, but because you want to know how far he’ll push himself.
“Harder, baby.”
Poor Jungkook chokes as his hips momentarily falter.
“Ha — harder?”
“What?” You rise from your elbows so you can twist your neck enough to make eye contact with him. “You can’t handle that?”
Jungkook’s face of pure determination lights a fire in your belly that you’re dying to have him quench.
Rather than replying, he twirls your hair around his fingers and tugs until your head is so far back you can almost count the paint chips on the ceiling. Then he plants his other hand atop your own on the leather before falling forward so his chest is resting on your spine.
With his lips right beside your ear now, he nibbles on your cartilage while slotting his digits between yours.
“I can handle anything, baby,” he snarls.
The new angle provides him with more stability that he utilizes to give you precisely what you’re asking for. Without another thought, he retreats until only his cockhead remains inside, just past your tight circle of nerves, and holds the position for an irritating amount of time.
“You trying to tease me?”
Jungkook chuckles as his head dips so he can venerate your neck.
“Something like that.”
When he begins again, you genuinely experience what it’s like to be a human.
He immediately starts pounding into you so mercilessly the couch nudges closer to the wall every time he enters you. You can’t feel pain or suffer a bruise, but if you could, you imagine you would be black and blue from how hard his hips are slamming into your ass. Not to mention the severe headache he’d be giving you from how firmly he’s clutching and yanking on your hair.
“Fuck… Jungkook…” you mumble between thrusts.
Another deep laugh tickles your ear.
“Hard enough for you?”
His hand totally encompasses your own, his fingertips pressing down on your palm, as he uses the leverage to maintain his inhuman pace.
It’s the most embarrassing moment in your entire thousand-year-long existence because you can’t find the wherewithal to answer him. You’re too awestruck by his sweaty, taut chest rubbing against your back and his cock ravaging your pussy.
Your lack of response tells him everything he needs to know, and you can practically smell the immense pride wafting off him.
Another orgasm is dangerously close to overpowering your senses, but you want to feel him paint your cunt in his seed before then. Plus he really deserves to bust his load after what you’ve put him through tonight. So, you focus on speaking rather than the myriad of sensations he’s providing.
“Can you feel me pulsing around you?”
“Fuck, of course I can.”
“Then come with me. Not a second before or after, got it?”
Jungkook nods where his face is still buried in your neck, but you also sense a hint of nervousness on behalf of him not wanting to disappoint you.
Cute.
As both your highs approach, Jungkook’s moans grow louder and his breathing becomes nothing more than short, erratic puffs of air. It’s obvious how close he is and you clench your core to give him that final push.
In response, he whines into your skin as his harsh strokes shift to just grinding against your ass because the ecstasy is too overwhelming.
“Please, baby, I can’t…”
“Don’t you dare,” you warn him.
“Y/N,” he cries in desperation.
After only a couple more penetrating thrusts, your pussy convulses and drenches Jungkook’s cock in essence, and just as instructed, he comes at the exact same time with a loud, broken sob.
His hot cum floods your cunt as he whimpers and continues to roll his hips into you. In turn, your orgasm makes you unabashedly moan and fall forward onto your elbows. Both your bodies shake while intense euphoria surges through you until all you can feel is one another.
By the time your climaxes end, the only sound in the room is you two panting and the wet squelch of Jungkook still lazily fucking you.
“I… damn,” he rasps.
You chuckle.
“Good job, dollface.”
With that, you collapse onto the couch and involuntarily pull Jungkook down with you since he’s still nestled deep inside your walls. The two of you lie there just catching your breath and letting your bodies relax until he eventually releases your hair and peels himself off your back.
You’re too exhausted to pay attention to his movements, but you can hear him stumbling across the room. Then all of the sudden he’s rolling you over and gently running a soft towel between your legs to clean you up.
His natural attentiveness makes you giggle.
“You don’t have to do that.”
Jungkook weakly shakes his head.
“I’m nothing if not a gentleman.” Once he’s done, he tosses the rag aside and crashes into the armrest. A silent moment passes before his expression turns inquisitive. “You can’t… you can’t get pregnant, right?”
“No,” you laugh. “I don’t have reproductive organs.”
“Oh, good.”
“What? You don’t want to raise a half human, half demon baby with me?”
He smiles and tilts his head to and fro like he's actually contemplating it.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
Following an affectionate shake of your head, you sit up so you’re mirroring his position across from him.
Even after everything you’ve already done tonight, you notice his eyes drinking you up from head to toe. It fills you with accomplishment and reminds you of the task at hand.
“So, you made up your mind yet?”
Jungkook’s eyes tilt down while he fiddle with his fingers.
“I have. Think I did before my dick was even inside you,” he admits. “Is that pathetic?” He glances up and you can see all the different emotions swimming in his eyes. “I mean, shouldn’t I have some more respect for my mortality?”
“No.” Your casual response earns you a questioning look. “You want what you want. There’s no shame in that.”
Your answer seems to satisfy him somewhat because his hands fall to his sides and he sits up straighter.
“What will it be like for the people I leave behind?”
“It’ll be as though you vanished without a trace.”
He hums in acknowledgment.
“I guess I should leave a note then.”
Jungkook doesn’t wait for a response before standing and rummaging through his desk to find a pen and paper. While he does, you scoop your dress up from the floor and shimmy into it. You also grab his clothes and place them on the couch for him.
Once he’s done, he takes a deep breath and turns in your direction. You gesture towards the pile of black material and he graciously bows his head before throwing the different articles of clothing back on.
You situate yourself on his desk where the note now lies as you wait for him to finish, sitting on the edge so your feet dangle just off the ground.
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself glancing down at the small piece of paper taped to the wood so it doesn’t get disturbed.
It’s surprisingly short, but you suppose it states everything it needs to. Written in Korean, it reads:
Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I love you.
It could be addressed to anybody, which you’re positive is the reason he kept it so vague. His final words will bring comfort to everyone from his family, band members, and multitude of fans all around the world.
You wish you could say you feel bad he has to leave such a wonderful life behind, but you honestly don’t. No matter how much you adore your little mortal, you still have an agenda as a demon and you’re getting precisely what you want.
After hopping off the desk, you contemplate how to go about actually sealing the deal. Even though Jungkook agreed to come with you, humans often hesitate on big decisions at the last second. You don’t want to kiss him by force, since that could cause resentment, but you do want to return home soon.
Your worries end up being for nought, because when you turn towards Jungkook to ask him a question, you hear him exclaim under his breath.
“So, how do you —”
“Fuck it.”
Everything happens so fast you don’t even realize what’s occurring until you feel Jungkook’s lips pressing against your own. The foreign taste and sensation initially shocks you, and you even squeak when he passionately slots your mouths together as his fingers rake into your hair.
On instinct, your fingers curl around the fabric of his torn shirt to tug him closer and Jungkook contentedly hums. No doubt because he’s finally making up for all the times he wanted to kiss you throughout the night. He’s a damn good kisser, too. His lips are soft, warm, and move in perfect harmony with your own.
You aren’t certain how long you two make out, but you know it’s enough time to be transported back home together. Especially once you can feel the familiar heat of your humble abode swirling around you.
Jungkook pulls away first, but his eyes stay closed for a moment while you admire his features in the hazy, red ambiance of Hell for the first time. He’s sporting a blissful smile as though he didn’t just bid farewell to the only life he’s ever known and it causes you to giggle with pride.
When his eyes do fly open, they land on you before something over your shoulder catches his attention. The already large spheres widen dramatically as he observes the unfamiliar space. You hear his heartbeat speed up and sense waves of anxiety and fear washing over him, but you think you know a decent remedy.
While he’s still busy surveying his new surroundings, including the grand pillars, ornate decor, and high ceilings of your home, you slowly walk backwards down the hall.
“Welcome home, Jungkook,” you chirp. “To Hell, that is.”
With a seductive wink, you turn on your heel and strut away from him. Once you’re a few feet ahead, you twist around to make a come hither motion with your pointer finger.
His eyebrows rise like he’s almost surprised you’re talking to him, but then his nerves seem to settle as a smirk grows on his lips.
“So, you coming or not?”
You continue towards your room after turning around again and just like magic, you soon hear a chuckle followed by the sound of Jungkook jogging to catch up with you.
(this is a continuation of this fic. this was intended to be a drabble but i literally can’t shut the fuck up lmao - this contains heavy spoilers!!)
—
life was different for you now.
living a day-to-day routine where stress and fear were a norm had taken its toll in your bones, creating a sense of heaviness you truly believed would one day kill you. it had infiltrated your very blood stream, attacking anything that could ease your burden and instead multiplying it by a million, leaving you in a state of distress every waking moment of your day.
but life was different for you now.
you woke up to kisses. to warmth. to the quiet assurance that you would never flail around your damaged and hazardous apartment to get ready for a shift at the diner after only having a few hours sleep from finishing your night shift. gentle caresses would touch you head to toe, claiming, possessive, rough. a reminder. you don’t live that way anymore.
jungkook had given you everything you had never dared to dream of. you lived in a lavish house, adorned with sweet furniture and touches of pink, cream and ivory - a clash against the intensely masculine, blue collar worker he was. your garden stretched wide, rows of planted flowers, a weeping tree with a swing he had build for you attached. your wardrobe was overflowing merely due to his incessant need for you to spend as much as your pretty heart wanted, despite your complaints.
more importantly - jungkook had given you love.
though you wanted nothing more than his affection, he deemed it not to be enough. he could feel the gnawing pit in his stomach to spoil you rotten appear with each waking moment of his existence; one look at you and it was confirmation that you were the very person he was born to live for. your sweet nature alone had him grunting at work, reminded of his pretty girl waiting for him, always cooking despite his protests, making sure she fed her man well for his hard work.
even now, as you sat on the couch, nibbling on soft candy whilst he was away at work, you couldn’t help but feel your mind wander away to think about him. to anyone else, he had his faults - overy obsessive, too quiet and rough around the edges, possessive over you beyond belief. you didn’t care though, especially not when it was those very qualities that gripped you so deeply, intrigued you beyond belief.
you shut your thighs tightly at the thought of him jealous, want swirling in your stomach.
you reached for your phone, finger hovering over his imessage chat before indulging as you always did. stifling a giggle at his previous responses, you plopped another piece of candy in your mouth as you began to reread them like a high-school girl with her first crush.
it was just a collection of texts from you telling him what you were doing, how much you missed him, that you wanted him to come home already, excitedly telling him about what you were going to cook once he got home. his responses were short, curt, but you knew that was just how he spoke. he never, ever, forgot to tell you he loved you and that he missed you more, a juxtaposition to the roughness of his typical personality.
sometimes, when you were alone and needy, you’d take pictures of yourself just the way he had left you. often in one of his t-shirts, or a loose slip dress that hid nothing. paired with a sweet, “miss youuuu 💞” meant you’d have a video call pending almost immediately. it never failed to have butterflies erupt within your stomach as he’d look over you, sweat trickling down his forehead from a particularly gruelling day outside.
he wasn’t use to being soft, and you never asked that of him. it was an understanding between you that he was rougher around the edges, harsher, too much and too little all at once but it was exactly what you needed. you were the woman of his fucking dreams, the very angel he had only conjured up in the depths of sleep, now in his arms.
your gaze dropped slowly down to your lap, fingers idly playing with the lace hem of the slip dress hanging loosely on your body. it was one of the many he had bought you without looking at the price tag, lightly grunting at you in annoyance whenever you’d insist he put it back down due to how expensive it was. pale pink and barely there, it was a favourite of both of yours.
he loved so much about them. the way they’d run up your thighs, exposing you inch by inch, leaving little to the imagination. you couldn’t hold back the giggle in the back of your throat at the memory of him unravelling between your legs just at the mere feel of it.
god, you felt like an embarrassment.
how was it he had done this? completely unarmed you from every facet of your life, rendering you a useless sack of wandering obsession, begging for him to come home. waiting to perch in his lap as though it held the very secrets of life and joy, and perhaps in a way, it did.
it was ultimately the blistering bright ring on your left hand that forced you out of your thoughts, a shy smile forming wide on your lips. one look downwards had managed to drift you away to the best day of your life.
your wedding was a dream.
one so painfully perfect that everytime you recounted it, you’d find yourself sobbing away on the couch, so touched, indecently happy. people like you didn’t get fairytales like this, and yet, here you were, married to the love of your life, your own personal prince charming that was anything but a prince and only charming to you.
after he had proposed to you, all but forcing you to say yes, to choose him as he had chosen you, your excitement dampened when you realised you didn’t have anyone to even invite.
a bride stood alone, no bridesmaids, no parents to invite, no friends to sit in the stalls of the chapel to squeal in glee? a lonely affair, and hardly a wedding. jungkook was astute, and he didn’t need you to explain yourself when you one day burst out crying in his arms once he brought up the wedding. he understood. he knew. he saw.
overnight, he had made it an absolute mission to introduce you to everyone in his life. his six closest friends, some he had met in college, others worked in the same way of life, one had dabbled in that dark shit he no longer got involved in. all of them married, happily, wives who had been bustling to meet you.
it didn’t take long for them to fall in love with you, with yoongi’s wife, yejin, coming over practically daily at one point to help you plan, going wedding dress shopping and aiding you in your choices. as a result, once the wedding rolled around, your side was absolutely packed and squeezed whilst jungkook’s side remained modest, some distant family and friends from all walks of life.
anyone who had come within one metre of you had fallen in love with you. you were the definition of bride itself, flushed and loving, soft and ivory.
your dress was beyond anything you had ever dreamt of owning, and despite being spoilt rotten becoming a new means of life, this was different. it symbolised so much more, a new beginning and the end of a chapter you never had to return to. bouncing tulle and lace, and a neckline that cupped as though material was kissing your chest. you were a vision.
jungkook? he had transformed at the sight of you.
he watched as you walked down, arm in arm with his eldest friend, jin, who was more than happy to assist you. you were already teary eyed simply looking at him, but it was your macho man at the end that truly felt ruined.
jungkook could count on one hand how many times he had ever cried in his life, with the number falling close to three or four. in that moment, with a slight sheen on his lower lash line, he promised himself heartily that he would do everything in his waking fucking power to make you happy like this forever.
he neither smiled nor made a noise, in true jungkook fashion, merely staring at you in the familiar harsh way that had your stomach bouncing in excitement. once you were finally in his arms, his hands openly running over you as he took you in up close, he dropped his head down low, capturing your lips in a kiss, claiming you for the world to see.
“my bride.” he had whispered, with every inch of soul and comfort in his very heart.
—
the memory left you warm, a bashful sense of comfort filling your veins as you curled further into the couch, letting out an occasional smile.
your fingers brushed over the bright band on your finger, twisting it carefully whilst fully submerging yourself into the coziness of the pillows behind you. the house was quiet, the living room even quieter, with large beams of sunlight pouring in from the tall windows and stretching across your hardwood floors.
jungkook had demanded the new house have big windows.
“want you to have light.” he had grunted once, with a tone of finality.
you had laughed at the time, teasing him for his oddly sentimental words, but now you completely understood, finding yourself basking in it each and every day akin to a small cat. you’d wait for his return daily, excited, absorbing vitamin d just as he had intended.
you popped another candy in your mouth.
the sweetness erupted in your mouth as boredom began to style over you. unfortunately, your husband was the hardest worker you knew, and as a result, he left early and came home late, rendering you needy for a large majority of your day.
and so, you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, nibbling on your lip as you went onto your messages again.
jungkook.
his name sat high on your list, despite the continuous gossip sessions between you and the other ladies, and the group chats you had now created. you hummed lightly as you pondered on what to text him, the possibilities endless when it came to teasing a man like him. your mind drifted to the way he looked that morning before leaving you - damp hair and a hardened jaw, he had kissed you deeply three times before finally departing from your tired body, still wrapped in the sheets.
your thighs pressed together at the thought. fuck.
you were being ridiculous. you knew that. you typed, and then deleted a few times, before settling on something simple.
‘i miss you.’
you stared at it for a moment before adding another line, continuing to nibble on your lip.
‘wearing that pink dress you like <3’
the message barely had time to settle in the chat before your phone erupted, indicating an incoming call, with jungkook’s name flashing on the phone almost immediately.
through a small gasp, you answered excitedly. “hi!”
your voice came out bright, delighted at the prospect of hearing his voice earlier than you were usually afforded, sitting up almost immediately like a young girl on the phone to her high school crush.
there was silence on the phone. all you could hear was slight heavy breathing, and then the sudden clank of heavy metal on the floor.
so distinctly him.
“what're you doing?”
his voice was low, rougher than usual, spiked at the edges - his personal indication that he was more than pleased to hear you.
you smiled, cheekily. “nothing..”
you could practically feel him scoffing at the end of the phone.
“don’t lie.”
you stifled a giggle, playing with your hair. “just on the couch, that’s all.”
a beat of silence.
“doing what?”
you peered down at your dress, smoothening it over your thighs a little as your cheek pressed against the phone, listening to his voice.
“thinking about you.” you sounded breathless.
he sharply exhaled on the other end of the line. you would have done anything to be able to see him.
“fuck.”
“what?” you giggled.
“shouldn’t say shit like that, y/n.” his voice dropped even lower than usual. “i’m working.”
a hum left you as you twirled your hair further, pretending to sympathise. “i know.”
a beat of silence.
“which pink dress?” he loved them all on you. his favourite colour for you to wear, and lord knew you had a whole section in your closet dedicated to it.
another giggle left you before you could even say anything. “the one you literally got me the other week, silly!”
another silence. longer, this time.
you could hear him cursing under his breath, the sound of tools being pushed to the side, just as a door closed. your breath hitched for a moment as you could hear him shuffling, the familiar sound of his weight hitting a chair filling your head.
“send a picture.” the demand was instant.
“kook..you’re coming home soon..” you were beyond giddy.
“now.”
within seconds, you were doing exactly that, excitedly snapping a few pictures. the dress sat high on your thigh, revealing everything, your pebbled nipples, your hair pushed to one side, sweet skin on show whilst it did nothing to hide the weeping mess between your legs. you were both a vision and a minx, his personal brand of heroine here to get him high.
you could hear him grunting on the other side of the call, making you roll your eyes. “you’re so impatient!”
he scoffed. “hurry up, baby.”
you stared at the picture, anticipation building in your chest as you finally pressed send, putting the poor man out of his misery.
the sharp inhale of breath was all you got as a response.
“kook?” you purred, though you were met with silence.
and more silence.
and even more silence.
your cheeks were beginning to flush, knowing exactly what kind of state he was in - seeing it too often above you in nights spent in passion.
a low curse suddenly spoke through the speaker, causing you to grin further.
“do you like it?”
“jesus, y/n. you’re doing this shit on purpose.” he hissed, voice slightly faint.
you hummed once more. “hm? did what?”
“don’t play dumb.” he hissed once more, causing you to fully smile. you loved when he was rough like this, all bothered and frustrated with no real outlet that meant anything unless it was you. “sitting like that..fuck.”
“like what?” you loved doing this. drove him insane.
the sound he made was one half disbelief and another pure annoyance. “you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
you tried to stifle a giggle, your legs coming up as you rested your cheek on your knees, phone to your ear all excited.
another breath left him, clearly trying to regulate himself despite doing nothing to tear his eyes away from your sweet body. he would get you more of these dresses. blues, greens, purples and oranges. anything and everything all at the same time.
silence filtered through the call only momentarily before it was broken by a single. “miss you.”
your heart stopped.
your big, strong man. your husband who knew nothing more in this life than hard labour and a good grind, earning to spoil you to an inch of your life, so that your head could rest on the finest egyptian cotton, and your food michelin grade. the love of your life, all tough, missed you.
“i miss you, kookie. can’t you come home early today?” you suddenly found yourself whining, sitting up a little straighter in hopes that he could. “promise i won’t bother you again at work if you do, but just for today. please, please, please..”
his voice came back, rough and harsh as always.
“be there in 15, baby.”
—
the low, familiar rumble of jungkook’s truck echoed from the end of your neighbourhood road, causing your head to jolt up in excitement, a breathless noise slipping out of your mouth as you sat up from your perched position, sweets still in hand.
your heart slammed harshly against your ribs as you excitedly stood by the window, peering outside, despite the immodesty of your current outfit. wasn’t like you cared, jungkook would hurt anyone that looked at you anyway.
then, the unmistakable sight of his truck finally reaching your shared driveway, the noise continuing to rumble through the house at a much louder level.
how had he gotten here so fast? it had hardly been 7 minutes?
the car door slammed just as you turned to walk towards the hallway, smoothening your tiny little slip in the mirror, correcting any creases. you wanted to be perfect for him, in every single way, despite the dishevelled look in your eyes, and the redness in your bitten lips.
the front door handle twisted, with jungkook walking in with his heavy work boots, each step bouncing off of the walls and straight into your body as your eyes immediately met.
you, stood, hair flipped to one side, messy - just the way he liked it. the thin spaghetti strap had fallen off of your right shoulder, slipping down your arm whilst your pebbled nipples sat visible underneath the completely sheer dress. it was an insult to even call it anything other than mere material, considering it hid nothing. your legs, your bare feet, the way your skin shon with the light peering in from each crevice of the house. you were a vision.
he, on the other hand, looked completely different and yet exactly how you had imagined.
broad shoulders filling the hallway in a way that had you salivating, so much larger than your own frame that he towered over you in every single way. his dark hair was twinged with sweat, stuck to his head in places whilst his shirt stretched across his muscles, desperate to accommodate his size. dirt sat all over him, no doubt due to a gruelling work day, with his tool belt low on his waist, filled to the brim with all sorts of shit you didn’t recognise.
he looked intoxicating and he wanted more.
the room went quiet. so quiet you swore the sound of your heartbeat was loud enough for him to hear openly.
you felt ridiculous for being so shy in front of him, as though you hadn’t been teasing him mere minutes ago, or that you didn’t share an entire life with the greased man in front of you. he made you like that, and you knew he liked it too.
you tucked a loose strand of messy hair behind your ear.
“that wasn’t 15 minutes. did you speed?” you whispered, tilting your head at him, though he didn’t bother to reply.
simply began walking towards you, nice and slow.
your breath caught as each step brought him closer, an anticipation growing before your very eyes, causing your stomach to tighten. you shrank into the scent of sawdust and sweat, a familiarity that had your shoulders soothing into him before he even got to you.
he stopped once you had to look up just to meet his gaze.
“you been sitting like this the whole time?” voice quiet, deceptively calm.
your lips curled slightly. “maybe.”
he broke your eye contact, looking you up and down once more, truly taking time when it reached your tits and stomach. the filth in his mind was beyond anything he could voice at that minute, for he knew it would have you running away in a heartbeat - that didn’t stop him from wanting it any less. his sweet wife, oh the plans he had for you. he was going to ruin you until you thanked him.
a low breath left his nose as he finally grabbed you.
you were pushed against the nearest wall just as his lips descended, capturing yours in an embrace that rendered you utterly useless. it was mean, demanding and rough all at once, your hands patting at his chest in shock as he consumed you, tongue in your mouth, tasting you and the sugared candy you had been consuming momentarily ago.
you struggled to keep up, but that was the norm between you. he always wanted it too fast, too much and you would drown giving it to him, just the way you both liked it. his hands on your waist tightened, bunching your dress up as he pressed against you firmly, making you feel him in every indecent way possible.
he pulled away for a moment, watching the way a string of saliva connected you both still, causing you to whimper. he grabbed your hand, pressing it against his hardened length. despite his thick work trousers, you could feel him perfectly, a clear indication of what you had done to the poor man.
“feel that? hm?” he hissed, other hand bruising your hip. “nearly crashed my fucking car driving here, couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
you moaned at his words, fingers caressing his cock despite the many layers. “want you already, kook. please don’t make me wait.” you practically begged.
who was he to deny his wife?
immediately, you were up in the air and in his arms, as he walked over to you shared bedroom, causing you to grab onto him with a small shriek of his name.
he dropped you onto the bed, causing you to bounce breathlessly as you peered up at his darkened gaze, only to notice the slip had been pushed up to reveal everything. one hand pushing meanly against your knee meant he was now face to face with your weeping pussy, a small sigh leaving him at the sight of it so messy.
“my girl. can’t think unless i’m making your pussy puffy, huh?” he condescendingly cooed at you, causing you to nod, spreading your legs further for him. “doesn’t feel as good when i do it, so always wait for you.” you whimpered.
the anticipation was making you feel sick, knowing he was here, under your fingers and inside you in ways that already had your brain crying out for him, it was driving you insane. you always got so delirious around him, hands shaking just at the feel of him underneath your hands.
“yeah? so good to me.” he nipped at your jaw, hands grabbing at the dress, pushing it up until it was bunched just under your chin, your naked body in full display for him.
he watched you nod eagerly, his mouth planting harsh kisses all over your breasts and down your stomach, all the whilst you squirmed in anticipation, whining as he got closer and closer and closer and closer.
by the time he was between your legs once more, he began to blow gently, watching the way your body jolted. you let out a loud whimper, slapping his shoulder gently.
“kook, stop teasi- oh!”
he wasted no time. his mouth found your clit, his fingers rubbing up and down to collect your slick as he began to suck, your body convulsing almost immediately. your loud moans echoed in the room as your chest heaved, hands seeping into his hair to pull just the way he liked it, the scent of your musk and his sweat heavy in the air, tied to one another as though they were lovers in a past life.
his tongue ran up and down your pussy, sucking, licking, rubbing, all the whilst he began to slowly pump his fingers into you, two immediately. he had little patience as a person, but when it came to you in a needy state? he was terrible. couldn’t think unless he was already stretching you open, the thought of you choking on the feel of his cock so deep inside you an utter dream.
“jungkook, i-i..” you squealed loudly as his pumping began to get faster, deeper, more precise. his fingers were curling into that little spot, the one he knew so well. “c’mon, baby. need to stretch this pussy out so i can fit.”
“i c..can take it..” you shook your head rapidly, causing him to peer up from his position, his cock straining harshly against his work trousers at the sight of you.
god, you were a vision. fucked out and he had barely even done anything to you yet, a clear indication of how wet you must have been this entire time. you needed this. you yearned for it. couldn’t cum anymore unless it was your brutish husband fucking you open in every single way, no mercy.
“yeah? won’t cry if i fuck you with my cock?” he cooed, condescending to you once more at the thought, knowing you would anyway.
“no! pi-pinky..pinky promise, god..” you almost let out another loud shriek at the feel of him pumping so meanly, with each and every intention to break you, something you knew he would achieve with ease.
“nah, sweet girl. gotta have you cumming on my fingers first. gonna be real mean to this pussy, alright? you need it that way, don’t you?” he hummed, voice muffled as his actions took precedent over his brain, sucking harshly.
your lip quivered at his words, a mixture of anticipation and excitement, tinged with fear taking over you. this was exactly what you wanted and how you needed it, and jungkook knew best.
the combination of his fingers and tongue had you spiralling. the heightened emotion in your stomach making your chest heave, your legs shake around his head and your hands claw at anything it could touch, his forehead, his hair, the sheets. it wasn’t long until your orgasm finally took a hold of you, grabbing you by the throat and forcing your cunt to clamp on his fingers and tighten.
jungkook moaned as he watched you cum, your body stilling for a moment before shaking, a loud moan ripped from your throat as he forced you to take it, pumping harder, sucking harsher, other hand on your hip to push you down into the bed.
by the time he pulled away, your core was throbbing and your legs twitching, your chest heaving. that look in your eye, however, was one jungkook recognised all too well.
“wan’you.” you slurred, hands reaching out for him as he leaned over you immediately, capturing your lips in another filthy kiss.
the taste of you sat heavy in your mouth as your fingers toyed with his belt buckle, pushing his tool belt to one side before pulling down his trousers and boxers in one go. the loud moan at the sight of his flushed cock was one jungkook wanted to replay in his mind over and over, the knowledge that you too were so utterly obsessed with him as he was you a thrill in his spine. he had met his match in you. he loved it.
he grabbed your hand before it could touch him, pulling away from your lips causing you to pout. the corner of his mouth twitched at the sight.
recently, you had both been using condoms, much to his dismay, due to you incessant plead to not get pregnant before the wedding. it was something that you wanted deeply, but you didn’t want to walk down the aisle with a bump, something he had no choice but to abide by despite it going against his very fucking chemistry. that pesky little thing had now trickled down to your day to day, with you rolling on a rubber onto his cock out of routine as opposed to want.
not today. enough was enough.
“b-but..” you whispered up at him, eyes widened as you watched the way he grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head.
“house is too fucking quiet.” he hissed down at you, nudging your nose against his own, peering down at your body. “need to fill you up properly, y/n. give you a baby, right here.”
his massive hand sat on your stomach, pushing down meanly causing you to whimper at his words, eyes closing momentarily as a shaky breath left you.
“gonna get you nice and full till you’re pregnant.” his voice was soft, but his eyes were anything but, a crazed look in them you knew he kept contained. you clenched around nothing. “but we just got married, kook..” you weakly protested, despite wanting nothing more.
“should have had you pregnant the day i fucking met you.” he hissed down at you again, head now pressed against yours as he forced you to listen to every word. “my pretty wife. built this house for you, our family. ought to fill it up.”
your heaving chest felt almost painful with need, causing you to nod up at him, feeling his passion for this, knowing how badly he wanted it, knowing how badly you yourself needed this. to be fucked full until you had a part of both of you growing inside of you was something that caused you to whimper up at him, legs suddenly wrapping around his waist and pulling him in.
“please, kookie. wanna be fucked full by you.” you begged so sweetly, causing him to press a chaste kiss to your lips.
he let go of your hands before sitting up once more, grabbing his cock and pumping it above you. your mouth watered at the sight, wanting nothing more than to have it down your throat for a moment but there were bigger things at stake, more important things to do. the head was red and leaking pre cum, angry and ready to break you.
by the time he was rubbing it up and down your folds, you had already wrapped your arms around his neck, head against his once more.
this was both of your favourite’s position. he watched your face as he began to push in, your poor little pussy breaking with each and every inch as he all but bullied his too large cock inside, your face contorting in a mixture of bliss and pain, his favourite emotion.
by the time he was fully inside, you swore you could feel him in your fucking chest, your legs already shaking as your core shuddered around him from overstimulation.
you were babbling away, making no sense, slurring words about him being too big, too much, so deep. it simply egged him on to begin fucking you just the way he liked, hard, fast, mean, rough.
you weren’t the type of girl to get fucked soft and slow. your mind and body were different to most, yearning for brashness and bruised hands all over your body, something jungkook was to the core. and as he caged you into his arms, hips pounding into yours without giving you much time to adjust, you knew you were exactly where you wanted to be.
“too much!” you squeaked so loudly up at him, causing him to growl in your face, only thrusting harder. “yeah? should have fucking thought about that before teasing me all day, you little slut.”
your back arched at his mean words, liking them too much to be deemed normal, and he knew it. knew what you needed before you could even conjure it up in your mind.
he grabbed at one of your legs, hiking it up higher on his waist as he stilled his actions, grinding his cock inside of you, forcing you to feel every inch, every last bit of his head poking at your cervix, tears beginning to gather at your lash line over how good it felt.
“right there..such a good girl, fuck.” he hissed, planting kisses all over your cheeks. “feel me baby?”
you let out a loud “uh-huh”, causing his heart to skip a beat over how cute you were. “c’mon, show kookie where you feel it.”
tears were now streaming, falling to the sides of your head as your lip quivered. you grabbed his meaty hand, pressing it against your stomach gently. “h-here.”
at that, he closed his eye for a moment, trying to hold off on cumming right then and there at how pathetic you looked. so adorable, the way you were grinding back down on him, wanting more, always so greedy. his wife, god he’d break you in half if you asked for it.
soon enough, he was picking up his pace again, this time managing to feel even bigger, faster, deeper. his thrusts were bullying, your poor pussy clenching around him as it failed to catch up, your brain a big jumble of words and begs.
“gonna make you a mommy, sweet girl.” he grunted in your ear, whilst you clawed at his shoulders. “gonna give you the family you deserve, get you nice and round. fuck..you’ll look so good.”
you let out a loud sob at his words, the emotion building up in your chest before you could even stop it.
a family. all yours. finally.
“wan’that.” you nodded through your cries, your nose beginning to turn a sweet shade of pink. “wan’it so..s-so bad, k-kookie.”
“yeah?” he cooed, kissing at your cheeks as though he wasn’t pounding into you. “c’mon. cum around my cock. cum for me.”
your brain completely stilled for a moment, as your body utterly exploded. with closed eyes, and breaking breath, you came hard, clenching around his cock in a way that had his thrusts stuttering, milking him immediately from how tight you had gotten. it crashed over you, running in waves, caging you into the feeling with no hopes of escaping as he forced you to feel every inch.
your loud sobs echoed around the room as he too began to cum, halting his movements with one final thrust, deep and mean, your poor pussy quivering around him. he pumped his cum into you, leaking from either side of your hole from how much he had came, your bodies sweaty and pressed against one another.
he captured your lips mid sob, kissing down your cry and holding you closer to him if that was even possible, cooing down at you sweetly.
“so good, sweetheart. did so good for me.” he whispered through kisses against your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, your nose, your eyelids.
you were nodding up at him, yearning for his praise as your shaking fingers tied their way into his hair, sniffling away.
the next ten minutes were spent with him taking care of you, whispering sweet nothings about how good you were to him, how much he loved you, how much he loved your ruined pussy. you whined with each word, enjoying it more than anything, like a cat being pet by its favourite owner.
by the time he was pulling out, he had grabbed your legs, pushing the cum back inside you as it dared to leak, your eyes meeting his.
he wouldn’t give up until you were full, and pumped.
—
life had changed once more in its typical quiet way. what you once knew, cruel landlords, leaking apartments, the fear and stress surrounding your multiple jobs just to make a living. just to survive the day, make it through the week - it was all gone now.
now, you lived.
the house felt warm that afternoon, sunlight kissing your skin through the windows as you let them open, letting fresh air waft through your home with a hum. you were waddling all over, busying yourself with different tasks whilst waiting for jungkook to come home as you often did. your friends had just left after throwing you a small get together in your living room.
your baby shower.
a soft grunt left your lips as you steadied yourself against the counter for a second, wincing just lightly. one hand on the wall, the other on your enlarged stomach, your baby kicking away.
8 months pregnant.
you couldn’t help the fond smile that grew as you looked down, giggling away whilst you found yourself cooing down at your bump as though they could hear you.
“i know, i know. mamma’s tired too, let’s go sit down.” you hummed, running a soft hand over the bottom of your stomach, waddling over to the couch just as the sound of a truck filtered through you driveway.
jungkook.
your smile brightened, excitedly waddling over to the hallway to greet him, despite your delicate state. even after all this time, your feelings for him truly never went away, your hormones only adding to them further and further with each passing thought of him.
the front door opened before you could get to it.
jungkook looked as he always did after work, big, intimidating - type of guy to punch you in the mouth for pissing him off. your brutish man. to anyone else he looked the picture of terrifying whilst to you, he was the epitome of home.
his eyes landed on you immediately; narrowing his stare dangerously as he looked over you, one hand on your tummy, your cute maternity dress stretched over your bump.
you smiled shyly. “hi, kook.”
his jaw tightened as he stepped forwards towards you, boots heavy on the ground.
“what’re you doing up?”
“walking..” you hummed innocently enough.
he frowned deeply. “should be sitting.”
before you could protest, his hands were already on you - one hand sliding around your waist, and the other going underneath your large belly, lifting the weight of it slightly to alleviate the pressure on your back.
you let out a soft moan of relief.
“mm..thank you..”
he simply grunted back at you; leading you slowly towards the couch where he wanted you to be quite literally at all times, as though you weighed nothing whatsoever.
once you were sat, he found himself crouching beneath you. big, scary man, folded by his wife’s feet. the love of his fucking life.
his hand rested idly atop of your stomach, peering up at you, taking you in hungrily. “she behave today?”
you smiled at that. “hm. mostly.”
almost on cue, the baby kicked hard.
jungkook stilled.
his eyes traced your stomach before he pressed a little more firmly, watching as your little girl kicked right where his hand was placed, causing his lips to lift in a rare, soft smile. slowly, he leaned forward, placing pepper kisses all over, cooing quietly under his breath.
“my girl in there.”
your chest tightened at the sight.
life used to be so heavy, so inexplicably cruel to you, and yet here you were, sat with the man of your dreams as he held you, took care of you in every single way all whilst making sure you were always happy. you never imagined you’d feel this content, and yet this life was yours and yours alone.
you had never thought you’d have a house filled with love.
a baby girl on the way, or a group of friends you cherished dearly. never imagined a man who looked at you as though you were the sole reason for his life, like you were the very moon and stars hung up in the sky, solely for him.
and yet here you were - married, loved, pregnant, fulfilled. safe.
you smiled as tears began to quip at your waterline, your bottom lip quivering though you tried to grin through it.
“what’s wrong?” he immediately asked, eyes meeting yours in confusion.
“nothing.” you shook your head through a sniffle, wiping at your eyes.
“don’t lie to me, baby.” he shook his head back at you.
you let out a little noise, fingers curling in his hair as you played with the pieces that framed his face so nicely.
“i’m just so happy, that’s all.”
jungkook’s eyes softened, and the smile that formed on his lips was one that managed to rid you of all breath, a rare sight that was growing more and more common with each passing day.
“good, sweet girl.” he whispered at you, taking your hand and kissing it. “i’ll make sure you always are.”
you knew it to be true.
months later, once baby yuna was born, babbling away as the weeks went by, you saw a side of jungkook you never realised he even had. he had pictures of you both in his wallet, showing every single person he could find, grunting whenever they didn’t give him the reaction he desired, causing the other person to cower in fear. or even when you’d walk in the park, he would wear a baby carrier, his little girl squeaking away at the passing birds and notions around her as he held her to his chest, his arm around your waist, holding you close to him.
for the first time in your life, everything felt exactly as it was supposed to, with every dream, every hushed prayer you had whispered into your pillow on nights of endless pain coming alive before your very eyes.
a home. jungkook. your family.
you were safe in the hands of the man who had chosen you from the very beginning.
—
handyman jungkook is officially over, and i’m already mourning this couple - aren’t they so sweet :((
if you liked this and want to support me paying my disgusting london rent lol feel free to show some love on my kofi <333
damsel in distress, obsessive obsessive obsessive, smutty
>20k
-
the life you lived was hardly one that many dreamt about.
you weren’t rich, successful or even remotely happy. you worked two gruelling jobs, one throughout the day and then a night shift at your local diner all whilst barely having enough money at the end of the month for basic necessities and food, all thanks to the horrible apartment you had moved into.
moving away from an abuser who had connections and knew everyone in the town you’d once lived in meant you were forced into the city - big streets, bigger prices and no safety net. you had been here for six months, still healing from the kind of trauma that lodged itself in your body as opposed to your overworked mind. the kind that made you flinch at footsteps, double check locks, keep your head down.
you weren’t sure you had ever experienced safety, and you weren’t sure you ever would.
the only building you managed to secure on such short notice was the building you lived in now - a concrete block rotting from the inside out. the water pressure was horrendous, shooting out cold water a majority of the time, with mould crawling up your walls like it was alive. you owned very little because you couldn’t afford to replace anything that broke, and the worst part of all? the rent.
triple what the apartment was worth.
you didn’t know at first, too blinded by your desperation to escape your abusive home, too tired, too exhausted - you had signed the papers without looking properly. by the time you realised, you were already trapped. you couldn’t move even if you wanted, not with all of the deposits you couldn’t afford, moving fees you couldn’t dream of paying or the even nastier landlords that somehow managed to be sleazier than your own.
and so, you endured. endured the way he would speak to you, all up in your business, breath hot on your neck and cheeks every time he’d lean in too close. sometimes he would move goalposts, forcing you to pay your rent early just to watch you scramble. you were in a constant fight or flight mode that you knew would kill you.
you woke up tired and went to sleep tired, body aching in ways that rest could never help recover. you didn’t complain, didn’t have anyone to ask for help, didn’t have the time nor the energy to believe anything would change. you moved through the world quietly, apologetically, as though your mere presence took up too much space.
jungkook had known that apartment long before you ever even stepped foot into it.
unit 4b.
as the resident’s on sight handyman, he had been inside it years ago. the building had been past saving then, but still pretending otherwise - he couldn’t even imagine what it was like now, but luckily, it had been unoccupied for so long that he had forgotten all about it thankfully.
he had fixed a pipe in there once, replaced a fuse another; every visit had left him with grime underneath his fingernails and a sour taste in his mouth. the place was a hazard waiting to happen, damp beneath the walls and faulty wiring. it was a display of neglect that didn’t show itself all at once.
when he had seen your name on the new tenants list, next to the apartment, something inside him had gone still.
he hadn’t bothered to knock on your door when you moved in. never introduced himself, that wasn’t how things were done in this place - it was rough living for rough people. you asked when you wanted something, weren’t just given it.
he, however, had met fragments of you.
coming and going whilst he fixed stair rails, brow collecting sweat as he watched you shuffle beside him to take the rubbish out. you moved like someone permanently bracing for impact with your shoulders curled in, bag clutched tight, steps uneven with exhaustion. sometimes you couldn’t even bring yourself to look up, but he could see the glassy mess of your eyes.
he doubted you had ever even seen him. that should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t.
because once he noticed you, he couldn’t stop.
it wasn’t an immediate desire - it wasn’t that simple or crude, no. it was something slower, heavier. it carried in the way his attention snagged every time he saw you stumble slightly on the stairs. the way his jaw would lock tight when he noticed how late you’d leave and come home from your night shift, or the way his chest would tighten inexplicably whenever he imagined you unlocking your door and stepping foot in that fucking apartment all alone.
he didn’t like the thoughts that manifested because of you.
they were intrusive - possessive to the core. he felt sick at the thought of you. wanted to sink his teeth into your arms and legs, anything to grab your attention so you’d notice him head on. his brain was fucked up, wrong in the way that had less to do with morality and everything to do with intensity. jungkook had always known there was something twisted about the way he wanted - not in excess but in pure depth.
he didn’t give a fuck about the idea of all of his past girlfriends leaving him - they weren’t what he craved. they weren’t the missing puzzle piece he had been looking for, all differently shaped to the specific hole in his life.
he fantasised about his dream woman. fantasised about making her stay, making her feel good, providing something he knew he yearned to give.
wanted to provide until there was nothing left for them to worry about. wanted to make money irrelevant in their brain. rest would be mandatory - he wanted to come home dirty after a long day of work to his sweet girl cooking for him, just so he could breed her all fucking night.
it didn’t stem from kindness, but mere vice.
and watching you wear yourself thin inside a place he knew should’ve been condemned made that vice burn hot and ugly in his chest.
he started recognising the patterns. the way you always opted for the stairs when the elevator had broken down, despite it being incredibly dangerous in a messed up building like this one. it was the way you paused on the landing, trying to catch your breath after a long day of not eating enough and feeling a level of exhaustion that had settled into your body like home, your fingers tightening against the very metal he had worked on prior.
you never complained, never flagged anyone down, never even asked for repairs - he was marginally cheaper than anyone else you could hire considering his contract with your building and yet still, you lived in squalor.
jungkook had never been good at ignoring the things he wanted most. especially not when they had him hardening, balls tightening at the mere sight of you - the perfect candidate for the life he wanted to build. at first, he tried convincing himself it was normal to worry about any woman like this, tired and exhausted living in a bad area but he knew his motivation was anything but innocent.
this was a fixation. a maddening, obsessive one.
he could feel his brain warping, dripping in need whenever he’d catch you walking back to your place. couldn’t help the thoughts from straying, wanted to protect you, save you, he’d do it in anyway possible.
you shouldn’t be living like this, and one day soon, something had to give.
he’d make fucking sure.
—
the stairwell smelled like damp concrete and old cigarettes.
the elevator was broken again, and this time it had been down for weeks. you didn’t know if you were allowed to complain to anyone, didn’t have half the energy the act required and frankly, neither the time. your bag dug into your shoulder as you opened the door to the staircase, sighing quietly, beginning your painful ascend to the fourth floor.
your vision swam from your shift you had just finished with, whimpering lightly as your aching legs took you to your place, so you could get dressed for your night shift.
as you climbed, your keys fell from your hand, your hair falling into your eyesight, blurring it even more.
you watched as they clattered down the stairs, another small noise of complaint leaving you at the sight. the sound was jarring in the empty space, as you stumbled down to collect them, hand darting outwards whilst you swayed.
your body lagged behind your mind, causing you to slip, a squeak escaping as you began to fall forwards, bracing for impact.
an arm caught you.
fast. firm. heavy. rough.
fingers clung to the skin on your waist like they had been there before, pulling you harshly into an equally hard chest, the contact knocking air away from your lungs.
“steady.”
a single word. low.
you froze.
your bag had slipped from your shoulder to the ground, your soft palms pressing gently against a set of shoulders, heart pounding. the first thing you noticed when looking up was how big he was, wide shoulders, large pecs, biceps bursting from the t-shirt that sat on top of his body. his grip hadn’t loosened, it had even tightened, his thumb pressing in further to make sure you were steady on your feet.
you nodded quickly, coming out of your daze. “i..i-i am so..sorry.”
he didn’t answer.
instead, he manoeuvred you to his other arm, whilst he bent down to pick up both your bag and your keys, moving in a way that felt easy, controlled. he was blocking the narrow landing, making sure you were pressed firmly against him despite it being intense. you hadn’t been this close to anyone, regardless another man, in years.
his forearm flexed when it straightened, veins standing out underneath worn skin. he held them out to you.
your eyes were hazy, a mixture of exhaustion and the heat of the situation, lips parted as your eyes met with his. you felt suffocated by his gaze, you felt completely naked, as though he as looking at every crevice you tried to hide with mere ease.
“you live here.” he said. not a question.
you shrugged weakly, nodding, shamefully looking away from his gaze, unsure of what to say and not being able to stomach his stare.
something shifted in his expression at that. not sympathy. irritation, sharp and contained. his jaw tightened.
your fingers brushed his as you took your stuff, despite being held almost intimately still. the contact was brief, and accidental, and yet it held even more weight than the heavy arm around your waist, as though it meant something else entirely.
“late.” he gruffed out.
you nodded again, hands against his chest. “yeah.”
his touch loosened, but he remained inappropriately close. tired eyes, scuffed shoes, the way your shoulders were sagging from exhaustion.
“you shouldn’t be out at a time like this,” he said.
not gently.
your stomach twisted. “i don’t really have a choice.”
he looked at you for a long moment. his gaze flicked down the stairwell, listening, calculating, and when he looked back, he stepped closer, close enough that you felt it in your chest.
“pretty thing like you,” he said quietly, “working nights in a place like this?”
your heart fluttering was a shock to you. you could feel a stampede in your stomach, curling further into the warmth he was providing without even realising it, voice tough enough to carry heat. his words weren’t necessarily a compliment, but a mere observation, one that had you reeling regardless.
you nodded for a third time, small. “i have to.”
his hand on your waist squeezed, grunting vocally in response. he could feel his cock hardening, and he knew it was fucked up, but the prospect of such a pretty damsel in distress like you? you were out of his wildest dreams, an anomaly that only came once in a lifetime.
he held you for another moment, the two of you simply looking at one another. he liked watching you cower a little, knowing that there were bad people all over in the complex, and though he evidently wasn’t one, his sheer size alone had you hesitant. knew it made his brain fucked up, but he enjoyed it regardless.
“get inside.” he muttered slowly, arm slipping away from your waist.
your too large eyes blinked up at him, uncomfortable with the feeling cold seeping in. you wanted him to touch you again.
“okay.” you nodded through a whisper, pulling your bag further onto your shoulder more firmly. he admired you for another moment before nudging his nose up to the rest of the staircase, where the door to your floor sat. “lock your door.”
your cheeks were a deep pink, as you turned and walked up the rest of the stairs, nibbling away at your lip, heading through the final door, and rushing into your apartment.
you leaned against your door, locking it exactly as he ordered you, before sliding down the cold wood, legs giving out beneath you.
who was he?
so tall and so broad, his face alone had your thighs trembling but it was more so how manly he was.
you knew it was ridiculous, but just meeting someone like that had your stomach in knots. you assumed he was just being kind, if a man like that was even able to process that emotion - he was calloused all over, rough without meaning to. the type of guy to take up as much room as physically possible because he could.
you had no idea that as you sat pooled on your floor, eyes closed and lip bitten, jungkook stood on the other side, quiet, listening to make sure you had locked it. to make sure you were safe.
only then, did the loud sound of his boots echo into the hall, cause you to gasp.
—
the knock came too early.
it was the kind of early that felt cruel - sunlight barely stretched through the thin, stained curtains, your body still sunk deep into that half-sleep where breathing ached and nothing felt real yet. the sound cut through the quiet of your apartment too harshly, your brain short circuiting despite your legs carrying you out of the little warmth of your bed.
you were startled. no one knocked on your door. people kept to themselves around here until, well, they didn’t, like your neighbour on the left. his door had banged a few weeks ago just as you had come home, and you hadn’t heard or seen from him since, a thought that was now presenting deep in your mind.
with trembling hands, and aching feet, you padded your way over to the door whilst all remnants of sleep fell from you like droplets. your toes curled against the cold floor, grabbing a cardigan on your way over to shield your indecent outfit that consisted of a too thin, too see through tank and shorts set.
by the time you had opened the door, the person behind it had already knocked three separate times, raising the level of urgency and only adding to the stress on your shoulders. you had a rare day off from your night shift, meaning you were only heading out to your day job in a few hours. this was supposed to be decompression time.
your fingers finally slid against the cool handle, hesitating at the lock before opening it up, eyebrows furrowed lightly.
you froze.
it was him.
your brain stuttered for a moment as it took in his broad frame, shoulders wider than you’d seen on any man, with muscles in places you had only ever dreamt of. his biceps were practically spilling out of his uniform, which despite being sat seamlessly, showed signs of wear, indicating he had been working all morning. boots were planted solidly against the chipped hallway tile, sunlight shining onto the highest parts of his cheeks.
daylight did him no favours - made him worse. heavier. darker. stronger. the kind of man that felt realer than anything you’d ever experienced.
the kind of man that worked to an inch of his life.
his work belt sat low on his waist, sleeves pushed up, tatted forearms already streaked with things like grease and dust, and hair still damp from his morning shower. despite the hour, he looked awake and alert, something you knew you lacked in that very moment.
his eyes flickered over you, slow. real slow.
you felt it everywhere.
jungkook met your gaze as you finally looked up, your chest tightening.
“morning.”
his voice was even rougher in the daylight, like gravel dragging over concrete. you could feel it in your stomach.
“hi.” you whispered, barely audible.
“inspection.” he lifted his clipboard whilst staring you down. the eye contact was heavy. “pipe issues in this unit.”
you frowned faintly, confusion pulling at your features. “i..i didn’t call anyone..”
his mouth twitched. you were even cuter when you just woke up. he liked that.
“i know.”
his comment should have unsettled you, should have had you closing the door in his face, locking it immediately and ignoring him.
instead, jungkook took it upon himself to set forward. the door brushed your arm as he passed, your already too small apartment feeling somewhat suffocating as it became swallowed by his mere presence.
you hovered near the door, against the wall as he began to move around with a sense of familiarity that had you stomach churning again.
first, he crouched beneath your sink before checking taps, looking inside your cabinets for any sign of water damage, inspecting the dampness that clung to certain walls. he was efficient, practised - it was clear he was good at his job. he moved like a man who knew what he was doing, as though this was another task on his list that he had to get through.
not like he had been thinking of you in this wretched apartment all fucking night.
he was in your bathroom now, writing something down whilst you continued to hover, half out of curiosity and the other half merely weary. you had every right to be given where you were, the fact you hardly knew him if at all, and of course the knowledge he had simply let himself in.
suddenly, water began sprouting from your tap the way it usually did but judging from the small grimace on his face, you knew it wasn’t something normal despite it being that way from day one.
“this place is so fucked.” he huffed, with a shake to his head. “they shouldn’t be renting this unit out. it’s a biohazard.”
your fingers intertwined together nervously; as though the problem at hand was your fault. “i keep a towel..under there..”
he paused. slowly, he turned to look at you, savouring the way your cardigan was leaving little to his imagination. your nipples had pebbled, and a better man would have looked away, but jungkook was hardly good - assessing them for a moment longer before meeting your gaze.
“you shouldn’t have to.” his voice was hard.
the way he said it, flat, certain, unyielding. it made your stomach ache and your chest tighten, as though someone was looking directly through you.
he stood taller then, raising from his once crouched position. he towered over you, a reminder of the sheer size difference between you, something both of you secretly felt aligned on.
he wiped his hands on his rag, cleaning them before moving past you to the breaker panel. his arm brushed against your shoulder deliberately, watching the way you shuddered.
“power cuts at night?” he asked.
“sometimes.” you answered honestly.
he looked over you again. “figures.”
he opened the panel, taking his time with inspecting it before closing it off. he turned back around to face you once he was done, not bothering to walk away, but instead taking up more of your personal space.
he looked at you properly.
the sag of your shoulders and the shadows underneath your eyes, the way you stood hoping not to be noticed. too small for even the cramped space of your apartment. it made his head swirl.
“you eat?” he gruffed out, a slight edge to his voice.
you were shifting from foot to foot. “what?”
“food.” he clarified with narrowed eyes. “you eat it?”
“i-..when i can.”
you weren’t sure why you were being so honest with him and yet the worlds tumbled out before you could think. you were nibbling on your lip.
he wasn’t done with his line of questioning, finding himself stepping closer to you resulting in you stepping back.
“how old are you?”
“24.”
he exhaled through his nose. he seemed angry, or something adjacent, as though your words were aggravating him. “too young to look this tired.”
you looked down with heat creeping up your neck and cheeks. “it’s fine.”
“don’t say that.” his eyes narrowed once more. he ran a hand through his hair before exhaling deeply. “i’ll be around today, gotta fix some shit around here. don’t go out.”
your mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of what to say. you watched as he walked towards the entrance, the warmth radiating from his body suddenly gone.
he paused at the threshold, one hand braced on the frame whilst looking back at you, watching the way your chest rose and fell, your sheer pyjamas doing nothing to hide the way your body subconsciously leant towards him.
“next time something breaks, you call me.” his voice firm.
“i don’t have your number.” you weakly replied, as though it was anything to deter him. secretly, you hoped it wouldn’t.
he didn’t respond, simply running his eyes up and down you once more as though he was savouring the sheer look of you, all soft and pliant. it made that sick part of his brain swirl, the thought of you being all his, the side of him that tried to rationalise a man ten years older being with a pretty little thing like you. he’d fucking ruin you and he knew you’d be thankful for it too.
jungkook turned around, cock half hard and head swarming, veins popping out of his arm, leaving you be for a few moments.
—
working the diner on a late shift meant two things. first, it meant you would have to deal with cleaning the entire place top to bottom, which was easily your least favourite task of your entire job. second, and more importantly, it meant you would be forced to deal with the filthy, sleazy men that would come in hopes of riling you up in anyway they could.
you were pliant, too soft for a place like this, too clean, too scared. all the girls before you had been ran away with ease after experiencing a single shift, and here you were, tiny little diner dress that sat too high on your thigh as men ogled at you.
you knew it was going to be a long night by hour two when you had already been harassed by two newcomers, the cooks in the back not able to back you up as much as they wanted considering it was a busy shift. you had been fighting tears back the entire night, but this was borderline insane. it felt targeted, and you felt exhausted already - this was hardly helping.
the smell of burnt coffee and grease was all you could think about as you walked around the diner, filling coffee mugs everytime a man would smash it hard against the table to get your attention, ignoring disgusting comments like they had never even been uttered, eyes down.
you felt it before you saw it.
him.
a regular. late 40’s, unshaven, dirt under his fingernails. kind of guy to make you uncomfortable just to get him off. he made your skin crawl. made you want to hide forever and never appear again, but alas, you were a young, poor, twenty something year old fighting for the very will to live.
you felt the slow drag of attention on your legs, dragging up and settling on your tits. your dress was buttoned, and though you knew there was nothing to even ogle at, the shape of your breasts against your dress was enough for dirt like him to get riled up.
“there she is, about fucking time.” he grunted out, breath hot and legs spread underneath the booth table. “fetch me a coffee. make it good.”
you simply nodded, not trusting your voice as you grabbed him a mug before pouring it in in front of him, eyes trained on the drink.
“what time you finish tonight, sweets?”
your shoulders bristled immediately. he always did this, but it never made you feel any better.
“late.” you murmured quietly, but he was perceptive enough to hear you. didn’t like the bite in your voice.
“walking home alone again?”
your body went cold.
your stomach tightened uncontrollably, and though the line of questioning wasn’t anything new, it still messed with you more than you wanted to admit. you could feel the thin layer of threat coated in each word, and it scared you to know you were utterly defenceless.
you had been feeling watched recently too. on the staircases, when entering your home, walking through hallways. your building was shady, yes, but this was different - it felt charged. felt scary enough to notice, and paired with a line like that? this didn’t feel normal anymore.
you shake your head before you could even think it through. “no.”
“no?” he repeated with a smirk.
you swallowed nervously.
“i’ve got someone..so.”
your words surprised even you, and you tried your hardest to hide it, especially when his own was formed perfectly upon his features. he leaned back, drinking the coffee with his darkened features.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
you shifted from foot to foot. he didn’t believe you, you could feel it.
“he works in construction.” you added, nervously, breathing through your words to sound firm but instead, coming out like a fawn. “does long shifts too but takes care of me and..and he doesn’t..like men talking to me..so.”
your pad suddenly looked so much more interesting, shuffling it between your fingers as he stared you down, secretly seething at the idea of the pretty plaything at the diner no longer being accessible to mess with.
“he’s protective too. big cause he works with his hands.” you kept rambling on, describing the very protector you needed.
describing jungkook.
subconsciously, of course.
the sleazy man narrowed his eyes at you, tilting his head slightly. “don’t look like you have a man like that. you sure you’re not lying to me, sweets? cause i don’t like liars.”
“i do..i really do.” you nodded immediately but you were blinking fast, almost about to burst into tears from your lie that you begged wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.
“yeah? what’s his name?”
your throat constricted. you wanted to run away.
“he wouldn’t like me giving his name out.” your voice came out a whisper.
you knew he had you. knew he could see right through you.
he drank from his mug once more, filthy stare looking over you once more as though he had every right. his fingers tapped against the table for a few seconds before he leaned back.
“say hi for me.”
you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. you simply walked away.
later, once the diner had closed and every inch had been mopped to perfection, you finally grabbed your bag and your coat with a loaded sigh. the exhaustion was heavy today, you could feel it in the way your bones screamed with every passing movement. you had been shouted at non stop all night by customers, and though you weren’t doing anything wrong, it still was never good enough.
stepping out after you had locked the doors was stark, the cold air hitting you in your face causing you to wrap your coat even tighter around you, beginning the ten minute walk to your apartment block. you had long become used to the journey, and despite the late hour being terrifying at this time of night, it was one of the only chances you had to feel the wind hit you. to remind you that you were alive.
the streets felt different tonight, with the stark lighting above flickering with each and every step. you could feel a knot begin to form in your stomach, and you knew it was anxiety, you knew you were being ridiculous but that didn’t make the thoughts go away.
it only took another 30 seconds for your thoughts to be confirmed.
you could hear it. footsteps just a few metres away from you, and considering it was the early morning, the streets were completely bare save for yourself and whatever was trailing you from behind. you felt your legs quicken despite the tiredness in your body screaming at you, openly telling you it could take no more for the night and yet you were doing a full blown run home within seconds.
you could still hear it behind you, and it was real, wasn’t a figment of your imagination - someone was trying to get you, to hurt you.
you could see your apartment, could see the heavy doors, the rubbish bins all empty and random waste littered around on the floor. the most noticeable thing of all, however, was the beaten down truck, where a tall and bulky man stood, smoking his cigarette with furrowed eyes as he leaned against it.
you recognised him immediately.
he seemed to notice you too, watching as you all but ran over to him, your eyes wide and breathing heavy, your chest heaving up and down.
jungkook’s head tilted just slightly, grabbing you with one of his arms as his cigarette sat on his lip, watching as you burst out into crushing sobs almost instantly from the feel of his touch.
it was safety personified.
his arms wrapped around you as though it was second nature, one hand on the back of your head, the other harsh on your waist.
his cigarette fell to the ground, extinguished by a heavy boot whilst you sobbed in utter fear, clutching him like a lifeline, as though he was the only thing that could protect you from the outside world.
he was.
his touch wasn’t gentle, or firm - it was mean, harsh against your skin, grabbing and forcing you to look up at him as it did exactly what it needed to. it grounded you, enough to sedate the fear, just slightly, fingers pressing into your uniform.
“what happened?” his voice was equally as rough, as though he had barely used it all day, a man used to using his hands as opposed to his words.
you couldn’t get your words out, too big eyes staring up at him almost desperately as broken sounds and wet breaths fell into his chest, your hands bundled against his pecs.
his jaw tightened. he looked past you, eyes narrowing as he assessed the street, shoulders square. it was far too quiet considering the state you were in, and he could only assume whatever had made you so scared had quickly ran away the moment they realised you had sought shelter in him. he was a pretty intimidating guy, all height and muscle, a right hook that had people passing out in seconds.
“did someone touch you?”
you shook your head fast against him, sucking in a breath.
“n-n..” hiccup. “no.”
his hand travelled from the back of your head, running through your hair until it reached the back of your neck, eyes narrowing harshly. he was grounding you still, keeping you safe in his arms as you shook violently, a mixture of the cold air and the fear of what could have been had jungkook conveniently not been stood outside.
you had no idea that he had been waiting for you, almost aggravated at how late you were coming home.
“use your words.” he uttered, fingers digging into your skin just enough to leave pressure, something you found grounding. “talk.”
“was a m-man..at the..at the diner and..but he keeps..and then..” you were choking out words, hardly making sense but it was enough for him to gather the general gist of what was happening.
you watched as his face went completely cold.
“regular?” he asked.
you nodded, not trusting your voice through your sobs.
“he fucking follow you?”
you took a deep breath, shaky air leaving your lips. “i don’t know- i think..someone foll-followed me..” hiccup. “so i ran.”
he looked angry.
you barely knew the man, but from the emotions he had given you, you could tell it wasn’t directed at you whatsoever. you could feel it in the tension of his arms around you, the warmth his body exuded - it was fury.
“alright.”
decision made.
he pulled your face back, the hand on your neck forcibly tilting your head, so he was looking down at you. you shamelessly had never felt so protected ever before. he wiped the mascara underneath your eyes, despite the constant stream of tears, making sure to rid you of the blotchiness on your skin.
“listen to me,” he began, watching you nod like the good girl he knew you were. “you’re not going upstairs.”
your lip trembled again. did this mean you couldn’t go home?
“b-but..”
“if he knows the building, you ain’t going up there alone.”
you let out another sob, this only adding to the pile of problems you were already drowning in. you couldn’t handle this. could feel your brain splitting from the stress of it all.
“i’m scared.” you admitted in a small voice, fingers curled into his work jacket so delicately. “what if he knows which one is mine?”
that fucking killed him.
jungkook rolled his shoulders before letting go of your neck, grunting lightly as he pulled you even tighter against him. suddenly, you were turned towards the entrance of the building, his heavy hold on you guiding you inside.
“where a-are we-“
“my place.” he cut you off immediately as he walked you inside, head turning back to make sure no one was following him.
“you live here?” you asked through a hiccup, desperately still clinging to him, giving him no option but to hold you intimately as he guided you downstairs instead of up, where you and the other residents lived.
everything moved so quickly as you were ushered into an apartment, your eyes hazy as they began to blink away tears to register what was in front of you.
jungkook’s place was clean, tidy, meticulous. the furniture looked expensive, everything crafted perfectly, open plan living room and kitchen with a dining table sat as though he had a family he could dine with. dark wood floors and a couch so plush you were sure it was softer than anything you had ever sat on in your life.
you heard the clink of the door behind you, even watched him lock the door, bolting it for your comfort as opposed to himself.
he turned to face you again, observing you clearly.
you stood, shaking still, body slowly calming down from the sobbing you were doing earlier and instead replaced with a string of hiccuping breaths. you looked so small, so defenceless - a sick part of his brain wanted you like this always so he could play the knight in shining armour. wanted you to need him.
he exhaled through his nose. “sit.”
you obeyed instantly, moving to the couch and taking a seat on the edge as though you were terrified to touch anything. he walked over to the kitchen, where you could still see him before he returned to you, glass of water in hand.
he handed it to you, watching you take it with both shaky hands and take small sips.
he suddenly crouched in front of you. his calloused hands took a hold of either side of you, fingers digging into the sides of your thigh as he situated you on the couch properly, your bare legs brushing against him with ease due to the position he had now put you in.
“look at me.”
and so you did.
his shoulders were tight against his work jacket, frame so large you longed to be underneath it, just to know what kind of warmth would seep into your skin and bones. his forearms were thick, veins visible and tattoos on show, with bruised and bloody knuckles showing signs of scarring display too.
“is he going to try something?” he asked you, eyes trained onto your own.
“i don’t know.” you answered honestly, and the acknowledgment of being uncertain had your anxiety spiking again visibly, causing him to hold you even firmer.
“recount the conversation for me.”
“he a-asked when i finish..and then..something about if i-i was walking home alone..”
jungkook’s jaw was ticking; his shoulders rolling as he ran a heavy hand through his hair. he met your fearful gaze, your fingers intertwined in your lap shaking.
“what’d you say?” his voice was direct, and his presence felt calming.
“i..told him i had a boyfriend.” you admitted through a sniffle, rubbing underneath your eyes. “made him sound scary.”
the silence between you became thick, jungkook’s fingers digging into your skin. not painfully, but enough to certainly remind you of his hold, with his gaze never leaving your own.
his face remained stoic, but his actions gave him away.
“yeah?” he quietly responded; to which you nodded. “mhm.”
“how’d you describe him?”
“well..” you sniffled again, making jungkook wipe under your eyes for him, the harsh skin on his hands a stark difference to the soft surface of your face. “said he works in construction..and that..that he’s big and he doesn’t like guys talking to me.”
his tongue began poking his cheek, eyes closing for a mere second before his fingers then moved to sit on your hips, pulling you into him, making sure you were much closer than you initially were sitting. your hands situated on his shoulders through hiccups, sniffling away as you tried to ignore the severity of the situation.
“construction.” he repeated.
you nodded, the intake of your breath shaky.
“don’t like men talking to you.” he repeated again, but his fingers gave him away again. he was being prodded by you and you didn’t even realise it.
you nodded again, realising then that you had just been openly describing him, a beat of acknowledgment filling the room as silence filled the empty cracks between you.
there was something dark shining in his eyes, something that wouldn’t soften no matter how hard you sat there and tried. jungkook was a hard wall, but it didn’t mean he was unfeeling. emotion swirled deep in his stomach, igniting an internal need to take you for himself, to keep the door locked and protect you forever. how could someone be so oblivious to their own nature? did you know how sweet you were? his jaw ached at the mere thought of how you’d taste, so sugary he’d get a fucking toothache just imagining it.
“you lie good?”
your stomach dropped. “i-i don’t usually..”
“did he believe you?” his gaze dropped to your mouth, before returning to your eyes, lip curled.
“i don’t think so.” you whimpered then at the memory, the feeling of suffocation running back as you remembered the implication of the situation. you weren’t safe anymore.
silence settled between you once more, a norm considering he was hardly a man of many words. his hands on your waist tightened before sliding up and down, soothing you subconsciously, your bodies so close.
“if he comes near you again,” he said, voice low and void of overt emotion, “don’t engage. don’t talk. call me immediately.”
you blinked through a hiccup.
“but i don’t have your num-“
you were cut off immediately as he stood up to his full length, towering over you as he grabbed his phone, unlocking it and opening his contacts app.
“give me yours.”
you fumbled for your bag, hands still shaky, pulling out your phone before handing it to him.
he grabbed it, inputting his number and making sure it sat at the top of your contact list. there were no frills, no emojis, just his name staring at you as he handed your phone back to you, eyes sweeping over your face.
“don’t let him scare you so easy. guys like that thrive on this shit.” his words came out gruff, and you blinked up at him quickly.
“i know, i just-“
“i know.” he cut you off again, shaking his head.
that did something to your chest. he knew. he didn’t need the details, didn’t want to hear you make an excuse for how you were feeling because you didn’t need to, he had seen enough for himself. he had watched you long enough to know you liked to pack yourself way in too small boxes in hopes you’d go unnoticed, in hopes you wouldn’t be a bother.
the intimacy of him simply cutting you off to remind you he didn’t need to hear an explanation, he understood. it was music to you.
he was still looming over you.
“you don’t eat.” his thumb suddenly pressed down on your bottom lip, as you hiccuped, big eyes staring up at him. “don’t sleep enough, work too much, walk home on your own in the middle of the night. live in a unit that should be fucking condemned.”
your throat tightened, but his thumb was firm, the tip of your tongue slightly grazing it. he liked it.
“not anymore.” he shook his head.
the way he said it wasn’t intended for romance, it was ownership. you could feel it deep in your stomach, inbetween your thighs and in the traitorous thump of your very soul.
“you’re staying here.” he suddenly dropped his thumb from your lip, your brain a buzzing mess as his words began to register in your brain, your eyebrows shooting up on your face.
“what?”
he didn’t respond, simply walking over to the kitchen area and grabbing a beer can, rolling his shoulders gently. you found yourself standing then, shaky legs taking you over to him, big eyes capturing his as he took a swig despite the late hour, his adam’s apple capturing your eye.
your smaller fingers tugged at his jacket lightly, capturing his attention as his own stomach pinged at the sight of you, yearning for him to address what he had just said.
“you eaten yet?” he simply uttered.
your mouth opened and closed, nodding your head lightly making him do the same.
“don’t want you going up. not safe. bathrooms down the hall to the left,” he put his beer down. “you can wear one of my t-shirts to bed.”
your shoulders were slowly dissipating before his very eyes. you had never been taken care of, not for a moment in your full 20 odd years of living and you were almost unsure of how to act as your fingers remained on him, large eyes still glassy from your earlier emotion.
jungkook wanted to take care of you, wanted to dominate every negative emotion in your head until you were nothing but lullabies and sweet nothings, no more echoes of stress or negativity. what he hadn’t expected was to see you utterly melt at the prospect, as though the very notion was the one thing you had always wanted.
oh.
you were perfect for him in every way - that he could see clearly.
you made no effort to move, the act alone feeling like it would take too much out of you and so jungkook took one last swig, before grabbing you by your waist. his rough hand sat low on your back, half on your ass in honesty, as he lead you there himself, dark eyes trailing over your much shorter figure against him.
within seconds, you were in the bathroom, fresh clothes given to you, and the shower already on awaiting you. the first step into it had you moaning quietly, the patter of warm water being completely foreign to you considering you were so used to cold shooting bursts that brought no comfort whatsoever. you helped yourself to his shampoo, his body wash, his products just as he intended and were taken aback by how familiar it smelled to you.
there was a sense of protection in carrying his scent that was messing with your brain, and as you washed yourself, you couldn’t help but recognise your situation properly.
you, who had only met jungkook twice before, were now naked in his shower, using his products to wash yourself, imprinting his familiar scent into your skin like it was a lifeline. you were in a stranger’s home, seeking refuge from a bad man and yet you knew secretly, the big bad wolf was merely a few metres away from you - not that it deterred you.
the protection. the safety. it felt like a drug. you couldn’t bring yourself to reason with the fact it was batshit insane to be sleeping over at his home, your handyman for goodness sake, instead of going to the police or any other normal avenue.
no, instead, you pattered out, towelling your body down before putting on his t-shirt, eyes closing at the even stronger scent of his cologne. your uniform and underwear sat in a neat pile, ready to be taken away when you woke up in the morning, leaving you utterly naked underneath the way too large top that sat just below mid thigh.
once you were completely refreshed, all remnants of fear stolen from you by the warmth of the water and the comfort of his presence, your bare feet padded back to the living room. he wasn’t here, causing your eyes to narrow slightly in confusion before hearing a noise in the room adjacent, making your way over.
walking in, you were greeted by two things.
first, jungkook’s bedroom, which like him, was as manly as you imagined it to be. clean, precise, darker in colour and void of any real personality - a nagging, desperate little voice in your head practically screaming that it needed a woman’s touch. if only you knew the thought alone would have him cumming.
the second? jungkook’s naked back, littered with scars and muscle in places you didn’t even realise one could have. to say he was big was a gross understatement, for he defined the very meaning of buff - wide shoulders, insane biceps, back rippling with every move.
you could feel yourself growing wet at the mere sight of him, a quiet little gasp leaving you, causing him to turn around, only for you to see his pecs, his abs. god, he was just massive all over, a sight for your already sore eyes indeed.
jungkook didn’t say anything immediately, but he let out a deep grunt of appreciation at the sight of you. your bare legs, your wet hair; the way your hands were shuffling together. you looked like a vision.
had he been a better man, he would have guided you to the bed and walked out, designating to sleep on the couch but he had no intention of doing so. especially not when he could see your nipples poke straight through the cotton of his shirt, no doubt suggesting you had nothing underneath. his mouth watered at the thought of the sugary nectar inbetween your legs, could feel himself growing hard at the prospect.
“where do you want me to sleep?” you softly asked him, voice so gentle he wanted to ruin you.
that broke him from his trance, realising he was half hard just from looking at you. he felt like a fucking teenager, but could you blame him? you were his dream woman, circumstances and all, dolled up in his room like a present just for him.
“bed.” he muttered, nodding towards it which made you shyly play with your hair, watching him leave the room to no doubt go to the bathroom, his body brushing firmly against yours purposefully on the way out.
you closed your eyes for a moment once you were alone, heart beating fast, before walking over to the bed. you felt bad thinking he would take the couch, a little frown forming on your lips as you settled into the plush covers. another soft moan escaped you at the feel of such softness, the mattress delicate underneath you as you settled into it, feeling more comfortable than you ever had.
jungkook was back in a few minutes, also sporting wet hair suggesting he had just showered. this time, he returned merely in his boxers, a towel running through his locks as he examined you, all curled into the covers, not asleep just yet, as though you were waiting for confirmation from him.
fuck. he liked that. liked having you wait for him so he could decide your next move, like you were a little fawn unsure of what to do unless someone told you. he’d be that someone.
he watched as your eyes instantly fell to his bulge, eyes widening at the sheer size of it, your thighs pressed tightly together under his sheets as he approached you. he watched you stare at it, cock only hardening further at the attention, before pulling back the covers.
“oh..a-are you..sleeping here?” you managed to choke out, your tshirt having ridden up to sit at the tops of your thighs, big eyes peering up.
“not sleeping on a couch in my own home.” he grunted back at you, before sliding in beside you.
a once massive bed suddenly felt claustrophobic as you realised why he needed the space, though you managed not to touch him, you shyly moved to your side, your back to him to give him his privacy, your cheeks painted pink at the implication.
you were sharing a bed with a stranger. a big, tall, tatted stranger who was currently hard as fuck, whilst you laid on your side, pussy soaked from his attention, body quivering.
he was on his back, body taking up a massive majority of the space in the bed and he was utterly shameless about it. you, however, had tried to make yourself as small as possible in the corner, body scrunched up, unable to sleep as your brain worked round and around and around and around and arou-
big, beefy arms suddenly were grabbing you, one on your leg, the other on your waist as you were suspended in the air for a moment or two. you squeaked loudly, stomach dropping at the confusion of being moved and in the air.
jungkook was grunting at you, his preferred method of communication as you were finally placed firmly onto his chest, stomach first. your t-shirt had ridden up to the middle of your back, meaning your bare ass was on display, causing jungkook to place his hand on it as though it was the most normal thing on earth.
the position also meant you were pressed against him intimately, with your wet cunt now pushed against his too large bulge, causing a soft whimper to escape you, right into his ear. your breasts we’re pushed against his chest, your head resting into his shoulder as you both settled in as though this was the most natural thing on earth.
“sleep. you’ve had a long night.” his voice was rough, coarse, as though he too was fighting something.
as though the hand on your ass and the push of his weight, making you feel him intimately in every single way, was just as much punishment for him as it was for you. it was suffocating and you needed more, yearned for it.
your hands settled on his chest, your nose nuzzling into his neck as you nodded, eyes snapping shut. you truly were the picture perfect definition of obedience.
you weren’t sure how long either of you stayed like that, unmoving, unspeaking, just the understanding you were truly no more than strangers seeping in as sleep finally took both of you.
—
the diner was equally as busy the next day, with a particular scent that wouldn’t escape your skin no matter how hard you tried.
burnt oil soaked through the cracking walls, whilst the coffee that had been brewing for far too long sat in its pot, in your hand as you walked around the dining floor, filling mugs to whoever demanded more. you had disinfected the entire place with a cheap lemon solution that morning, the scent lingering slightly, causing you to feel nauseous.
you had been out of it all day.
you had woken up still in the same position as you had fallen asleep in, only this time, jungkook’s arms were hugging you tightly to him. one hand was curled into his hair, the other pressed into his chest, whilst you both slept deeply, safely.
you had slept better that night than any other in your entire lifetime. the feeling of protection was immense, and for the first time, your brain wasn’t racing in anxiety all night - you were able to rest comfortably.
that only made it so much more jarring once you had left his apartment whilst he was still sleeping, wanting nothing more than to stay in his arms, sleep a few more hours, relish in the warmth he was so happily providing for you. you felt guilty leaving like that, but the constant thump in your head brought you back to reality.
you did not know him. he was a stranger.
that was what you were telling yourself anyway, knowing that the traitorous thump of your heart gave you away. you hadn’t been focused all day, spilling drinks, dropping plates of food - your manager had been on your case your entire shift, the cooks even shouting at you at one point. you were utterly overwhelmed with jungkook and he wasn’t even there.
your feet were aching, but you knew you only had 20 minutes left. 20 minutes and you could go home, no night shift, just a long day that would be over in less than half an hour. that gave you a sort of excitement you rarely afforded yourself, and despite the fact your cheap flats were digging into your feet, and your apron felt too tight, you couldn’t wait.
that was until you heard a voice.
“are you fucking deaf? asked for a coffee 3 times now.”
you looked up from your spot behind the counter, meeting the gaze of the horrible, sleazy regular from yesterday, your blood running cold.
he usually only showed up in the late hour, and this was the first time you had see him during the day. it felt like a confirmation of some kind, one in which you had gathered he had either been watching you or was now looking closely, something that unsettled you. how else would he be here? why else?
you swallowed the thump in your throat, shaking hands grabbing the coffee pot and filling his mug as he sat at the diner bar, your eyes avoiding his at all costs.
“you look tired.” he said through a yawn, making no attempt to hide the fact he was ogling your tits. “your ‘boyfriend’ keep you up?”
you flinched at his words, knowing the implication - he still didn’t believe you. that made you feel sick. you chose to ignore him, tending to something at the till, in hopes he’d leave you alone.
“don’t know if i believe ya, sweets. been thinking about what you said about him, construction guys don’t go for girls like you.” he mused, as though he was the smartest man in the world, watching the way your hands shook lightly. “you’re all shy and shit. what you know about pleasing a man?”
you felt heat crawl up your throat and down your spine, feeling a level of shame you couldn’t quite place. you hated it. even reacting to a man like him was giving him power, and he relished in it.
“you better be usin’ what you got.” he leaned back, hand openly palming himself as he grinned, dirty teeth on display. “tight little ass like yours? should let him use it or he’ll start lookin’ elsewhere.”
you flinched once more, this time harsher.
“that’s inappropriate.” you found your voice, though it was shaky, desperately looking over at your manager who was conveniently pretending like he couldn’t hear a thing.
“i’m helpin’ you, sweets. should be grateful.”
your eyes narrowed. “you don’t know anything about me.”
at that, he leaned forward, grin even wider. it was sinister. “yeah? know you walk home all alone.”
your heart dropped.
“i see you.” he added. “late. every night.”
you couldn’t breathe. it felt like someone had grabbed your lungs, suffocating you from the inside and out, a confirmation of your wildest fears before your very eyes.
“see, i like to watch who goes in and out of that building. got some buddies, and you know..bad area. should be careful.” he was all but fucking gleeful. “pretty girls like you, they’re the most fun to play with.”
your hands were beginning to shake violently, as one reached for your phone, clumsily putting your password in, not being able to think.
“you sure your boyfriends real?” he asked lazily. “or you just sayin’ that to throw me off the scent?”
“i have one.” you immediately interjected, panic visible in your voice, desperate to be believed. “he doesn’t like when i talk to other men, so..” you pathetically whispered, turning on your heel and immediately going into the back, where the staff room was located.
you didn’t come out for the rest of your shift, your chest in a panic, hands shaking and eyes leaking tears once more. he had been watching you? did that mean something could have happened had you returned to your unit last night, instead of staying with jungkook?
you couldn’t believe this was a reality, and the fact you knew you had no escape plan was even worse. you couldn’t move out, you didn’t have the funds, and it was a terrifying thought to know you were simply waiting to be violated. the thought alone had you crying into your hands, shakily hovering over jungkook’s contact.
you didn’t want to bother him. he owed you nothing, and you had already taken so much from him.
with that, you grabbed your things and snuck out the back, beginning the 10 minute walk back home.
jungkook had been in the same position as you all day. his work was rendered useless, and considering he had well paying clients, it was enough to drive him to the point of anger. every thought, every crevice of the world around him brought him back to you, how you’d slotted against him so easily last night, so pliant and ready. to then wake up to an empty bed and a wet patch on his boxers from where you were both pressed together was frustrating to say the least - he wanted to wake up to the sight of you.
he had every intention of sitting you down, telling you to leave your job, telling you exactly what he could offer you if you just let him. hell, he would do it against your will too if you kept this shit up, more than ready to fund a lifestyle you had only ever dreamt of.
he was outside the building now, loading up his truck with shit he had been using all day, his tools, extra pieces of wood he had no use for at the minute and what not. his hands were beyond rough, calloused from daily use but that was the payoff for working with them carelessly. he couldn’t help but remember the feel of them on your ass, squeezing all night, sometimes dipping lower subconsciously just to hear you whine in your sleep.
fuck, he was half hard again just remembering it, but half annoyed recalling the way you had just left.
he was taken out of his thoughts when he looked to his right, just as you walked into the apartment complex, not seeing him, tears streaming down your face once more and shoulders sagging as though walking alone was too exhausting for you. he felt his chest break into tiny little pieces at the sight, it was enough to anger him for a completely different reason.
he was walking towards you before he could even rationalise it, a hand slipping over your waist within seconds and pushing your back straight into his chest, his bigger frame engulfing you. you let out a strangled gasp, looking down and visibly melting fully as you noticed the tattoos on his hand, letting out a quiet whimper.
“what happened?” jungkook immediately asked, the two of you stood in front of the building.
your tears wouldn’t stop streaming, your breathing already difficult as your bag dropped from your shoulder. your hands instantly went to cover your face, as you broke out into quiet sobs, body raking in his arms. the exhaustion had finally got to you.
your brain had broken.
jungkook didn’t waste any time. he grabbed you fully, picking you up with a single arm, to which you immediately hid your face in his neck, holding onto him as you ruined his uniform with your body shaking sobs. your bag was in his other hand whilst he made his way to his own apartment, not saying anything but simply allowing you to get the bulk of your emotions out, before walking in, and settling you down onto his couch.
“talk to me.” suddenly, you were in his lap, completely cradled by the older, bigger man as though you were a little baby, and your body moved closer in hopes of more comfort.
it took you a while until you were able to speak, holding the sleeves of his jacket desperately, his large hands on your back and cupping your legs to him. he was soothing you with his presence, patting gently to get you to calm down and soon enough you did, unable to look him in the eye, feeling embarrassed enough that you had done this two days in a row now.
“the guy from the diner came..came back and..” you breathed deeply through your hiccups, his forehead now against yours, making sure you could feel him. “told me he watches..the building..knows i walk home alone and, said he knows..said he knows people from the building.”
the more you recounted, the more restless you became as you began to sob once more, your hands covering your face again. his anger was beyond anything he could describe, he could feel it coursing through his veins as though it was part of his dna, the need to protect you stronger than every other emotion.
“look at me.” he managed to say, voice strangled, causing you to do exactly as he said, despite your shaking body.
“you’re not going back upstairs, you hear me? i’m gonna go get your things, and you’re staying here.”
you startled for a moment, eyes narrowing up at him in confusion. what did he mean?
“but that’s my apartment..”
“it’s a fucking shoebox with a busted lock.” he hissed.
“jungkook, i can’t just..” you shook your head, your shaking hands piled at his chest whilst he pulled you closer, nose nuzzling yours for just a moment to gather himself. “you can. what do you need from it, and i’ll grab shit.”
you shook your head, pushing him away lightly despite it being the last thing you wanted him to do, and he knew that. your hands were now tightening against the material of his jacket, tears streaming, eyes wide and head shaking.
“this is crazy. you don’t even know me and i don’t even know you.” you said through another half sob. “i can’t stay here, okay? you’ll get sick of me, and..and i’ll annoy you, or you’ll wake up, and..and you’re gonna..you’re gonna decide it was a mistake and i..”
he simply stared at you, eyes narrowing dangerously. if he had felt anger at the situation before, now it was beginning to direct at you.
he exhaled sharply. “stop.”
you let out another shaky sob at his command, head dropping to his shoulder, the confusion in your mind so clear. it wasn’t that you didn’t want it, but you didn’t feel worthy of it. all you had ever known was abuse, from the moment you were born until this very second - happiness was foreign to you, a notion you truly believed wasn’t in the cards for you, and to have someone openly wish to shelter you felt confusing.
“i’ll bother you, i know it.” the voice in which you admitted your darkest fear had him tightening his grip on you.
suddenly, your positions had changed. you were no longer on his lap, cradled, but instead, on your back laid on the couch, with your hands positioned above your head and jungkook’s entire body hovering over you. he was rendering you useless, and you couldn’t bring yourself to fight it.
“listen to me, y/n.” his eyes were dark. “i work all day, like a fucking dog, breakin’ my back doing all this shit, fucking my body up. you think i do that for fun?”
you shook your head in a little no, still crying.
“got all this money, got a nice job, stopped doing all that bad work that gets me in trouble, no back door shit. do it so when i got myself a lady, she rests good, you hear me?” his voice was rough, almost mean. “so she don’t have to lift a fucking finger a day in her life.”
your chest tightened at the notion, and a subconscious part of you screamed inside, begging to be the very woman he was discussing; yearning.
“you move here, and you do nothing. don’t want you working, don’t want you doing anything other than lookin’ pretty. don’t want a single thought in that brain ever again, unless it’s when i take you out, or when you want something.”
his head pressed against yours, the conviction behind his voice causing you to quiver. you had stopped sobbing now, reduced to silent tears that continued to stream, your cute nose all pink and the fucked up part of him was fighting the fact his cock was hardening at the sight.
“i’m gonna go upstairs, gonna get your shit, and you don’t do nothing, understand me? don’t think about rent, or food, or sleep - you don’t stress about nothing no more.”
“but why?” you asked through a shaky breath, sucking in air as you hiccuped, a pool of wetness forming on either side of your head from how much you were crying. “you don’t even get anything out of it.”
he doesn’t hesitate. “i get you.”
at that, a strangled noise left you, your eyes shutting tightly as your heart thudded harshly in your chest. he wanted you? truly? even without the frills, even without you being able to offer anything real, or tangible?
“i get to take care of you, spend my money on you, get you in my bed every night where you can’t run off before i wake up.” he grunted down at you, grabbing one of your hands from above your head and pressing it firmly against the growing bulge in his work trousers. “you feel that? feel how fucking hard i get just thinking about it, baby?”
you nodded through your sniffles, hiccuping a few times as your hand gently massaged his cock, the layers of clothing dulling the sensation but it was enough to have him press his head against yours once more, cooing at you. his hand slid on top of your own, pushing it harder, and despite the action being intensely sexual, it felt intimate more than anything.
“couldn’t get bored of you, wouldn’t ever. look at you..fuck. were meant to be spoilt, not built to be working out there and stressin’. need to lock you up here so you never worry again.”
again, you nodded, more desperate, whining out for him as both of your hands interlocked with his. the one above your head, sweet and reassuring, and the other, massaging his cock, demanding and grounding. you were his, and it was only then that you realised it - strangers or not.
the next hour was spent with you washing up in the bathroom, having the longest shower of your life, crying all of the remnants of your emotions out whilst jungkook went upstairs, grabbing your things. considering your situation, it took him no longer than ten minutes, something deep pinging in his stomach knowing you had never even tasted luxury. he’d change that.
by the time he had come back down, he was settling your things into your now shared room, watching as you shuffled out in another one of his t-shirts, wet hair, big teary eyes and an unsure demeanour. he took his time with you then, arm around your waist so you could watch him work, putting things away like it was second nature.
he left you curled up all nice and warm on the couch, blankets covering you whilst he gave you the remote, urging you to watch something. he had shit to do.
first, he was going to cancel your lease and threaten your landlord.
second? he was going to fuck up the man who had scared you.
—
two weeks.
two weeks of living a life you were sure was never supposed to be yours.
from sleeping as much as you wanted, and eating whatever your heart desired, jungkook was spoiling you rotten. the glee in his eyes every time he could see a small smile form on your face was enough to render you a mess.
you’d wake every morning flush to his chest, with your bodies pressed together intimately, his hard cock poking against your own panties in a way that had you breathless. on one occasion, you had woken up to find yourself all but grinding against him, only aware of it once you realised you were orgasming, causing your cheeks to flush a deep plum.
he fucking loved it. finally, everything made sense, his life has purpose, tangible purpose. the sight of you on his couch, resting on your stomach with your bare ass to the door just as he would walk into the apartment was enough to drive him insane - it was the sight he’d masturbate to daily. he didn’t want to push you, he was enough of a gentleman to know it wasn’t right to push his needs on you, and he was trying. god knew he had put every bit of his restraint into his situation.
you were both dancing a fine line of evident need and want, yet one couldn’t admit it to themselves and the other didn’t want to push.
the first night was the moment you realised that jungkook wasn’t any ordinary man. all of the kindness aside, it was when you awoke from the nap on his couch to him walking back into the apartment that you realised he was indeed every bit of the man you wanted.
bloody knuckles, and a slight bruise already forming on his cheek, he had walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead, telling you everything was now taken care of. your rent, the piece of shit that had been scaring you, hell, even your nasty manager who made it a habit to be rude to you.
you had washed his knuckles yourself, sniffling away your tears whilst apologising for being so weepy. he simply nuzzled his nose into your forehead, grunting something about how he liked it. liked how you wore your emotions openly and how honest you were about your feelings. it felt refreshing.
after that, he made it a habit to break any wandering thought left in your brain. he’d wake up to you all curled into his body, making him leave kisses all over your hands and cheeks whilst you slept, leaving you to go to work. he’d think about you the entire day, only to return to you with different boxes of food for you to try so you could find out what your favourite cuisines were.
in two weeks, jungkook made you feel more seen and recognised than you had ever felt in the past 24 years.
you still felt awfully shy in his presence. just yesterday, he had taken you out shopping, your hand tucked gently into his arm as you both walked up and down the high street. you shook your head vehemently as he tried to get you to go into the expensive, designer shops, your heart practically failing out of guilt just thinking about it.
“buy what you want.” he’d say to you, or, “don’t look at the price.”
you had once done so, picking out a lipstick marginally cheaper than the ones you could see in hopes that it would satiate him. he saw right through it, his eyes narrowing down at you as you shuffled from foot to foot, unable to meet his gaze.
“don’t annoy me. get something good.”
and so, you’d leave with bags upon bags of things, with flushed cheeks and a thundering heart.
his favourite shop, obviously, was victoria secret. you had clung to him almost desperately out of shyness, often hiding your face in his chest whenever he’d hold up a pair that he thought were nice. he let you browse, watching you shakily pick out a pair or two before you peered up at him, large eyes shining.
“which ones do you like?” you had whispered, so sweet, so inviting that he swore he could have came right then and there.
his arm around your waist tightened as he looked down at you, jaw clenched slightly at the way you had asked him. maybe it was the genuine curiosity that stemmed from you that had him guiding you to a cute, lacy pink pair. he bought them for you immediately, leaving you a flushing mess.
going home, eating together, curled together as you watched things, his legs spread wide whilst he played with your hair. it felt domestic. it felt freeing, and frankly, it felt like everything you had ever prayed for. something in the back of your mind screamed at you, reminding you that you still didn’t know enough about him, that he was no more than just a random man a month ago and yet here you were.
and so, here you sat, at the dining table with your legs crossed. it was 2pm, so jungkook was well within his work day, leaving you at home with a racing mind and shaking hands. you wanted to do something for him, something to show him just how grateful you were for all of the kindness he had bestowed upon you.
you grabbed your phone, embarrassment heavy in your chest as you began searching in anything that came to mind.
‘how to keep a man happy’
you frowned at the results, not finding anything that applied to jungkook in particular.
‘how to be a good girlfriend’
you flushed furiously writing that one out, but you knew it was the closest equivalent to the relationship you had with him. even then, all the results catered to people that didn’t align with jungkook’s personality. you sighed.
‘how to please a man that takes care of you’
now this, this was different. you sat up, seeing multiple different hits but the one thing you kept seeing over and over was the same line. you shuffled in anticipation, eyes reading it continuously, biting down on your lip.
“keep his stomach fed, and his balls empty.” you whispered out loud, repeating what you had read.
your cheeks flamed red as you shut your phone, setting it down like you had an audience around you, feeling a level of embarrassment creep up your neck. that..that felt fitting. you knew he loved his food, was always eating with a can of beer whenever he got a chance.
you also knew him to be hard nearly every instance he got. you weren’t an idiot, you had felt it against you to know that you probably couldn’t take him fully without prep, but the thought had your eyes shutting tight, a small whine leaving you - you wanted him just as bad.
soon enough, you had decided on your plan of action. you got changed, grabbing the card jungkook had given you and quickly made your way to the grocery store, hand shaking around your phone as you searched in popular dishes. you figured a steak would do, since you knew most men enjoyed meat, despite knowing you had never really cooked before.
you stood in front of the meat section hopelessly, shyly asking the workers there a million questions until a lovely older lady walked you around the shop, telling you how to prepare it, what ingredients to use, pushing you to purchase the more expensive options as ‘you could taste it in every bite.’
waddling home, you steadied yourself as you put everything in the kitchen, wrapping your new apron around you tight. you were determined. you wouldn’t fail, not when this was for jungkook, not when he had done so much for you.
hours had passed, and you were finishing up the last details of the dinner. the table had been set, with candles and plates positioned in a way you had seen in a youtube video. you had his favourite beer chilled and ready, even going the extra mile to have a shower, do your hair and makeup using the products he had bought you. you still had your apron on, knowing he’d love the sight of the cute frilly material around you.
your hair was clipped behind your head as you heard the door unlock, causing you to squeak quietly, gathering everything together as quickly as you could.
jungkook had had the longest day of his entire existence. from clients taking the piss, to fixing rushed jobs from other men in the industry. he had even had a phone call from an old friend, asking to stash some cash - it came with a hefty profit, but he had to decline, despite it souring the relationship. he had his girl waiting back home for him, and he had to make sure he was on the right track. no more illegal shit, no matter what that meant for the legacy he had built in his twenties.
walking inside his home, only to find you nervously smiling at him, was enough to take the wind out of his lungs. looking down, however, and seeing the full home cooked spread, was enough to have a man like him on his knees.
“hi..” you shyly grinned, hands shuffling.
“what’s this?” he asked, putting his tools down, uniform heavy as he approached you.
the sound of his keys dropping on the dish you had placed by the entrance made you jump slightly, as you nibbled away on your lip. he approached you, standing in front of you, eyes never leaving your own.
“i just..you do so much for me and, i’m so grateful and i wanna take care of you too.” your voice was no louder than a whisper, almost flushed at the admission as you immediately reached for his jacket, playing with the buttons, peering up at him. “it’s okay if you don’t like it, i just thought it would be nice for you to have something home cooked.”
he grunted, deep from his chest as his face fell into the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing in your scent. his hands were roaming all over your stomach, your hips, your waist, a soft giggle finding its way out of your lips at his reaction. it made you giddy to think he was enjoying this.
“you cooked all this?” he asked, walking towards the table, dragging you along with him, to which you lightly bounced, nodding. “went to the shops, and asked the nice lady and she told me what to get and she said that you’d like steak and she showed me what video to follow-“ you rambled.
he was enamoured by you, taking a seat at the head of the table, where you had positioned all of his plates. instead of moving towards your own seat, he grabbed your waist once more and pulled you firmly until you fell into his lap, your tiny dress doing little to provide modesty as you curled into him.
you watched him intently cut a piece, big eyes peering at him as he took a bite.
“you really made this?” he asked you, hand harsh on your thigh.
you offered him a shy nod, anxiety swirling in your stomach. it was okay if he didn’t like it, but the thought made you want to weep - this was supposed to be all for him. you didn’t want to mess it up.
“good girl.” he murmured, before cutting up a piece for you, watching as you ate from the same fork, a look of pure glee across your face.
his words had you leaning into him properly as you both ate, his grunts of approval worth a million words as you recounted how you cooked it, all whilst he listened carefully and ate. you truly couldn’t have been happier with yourself, your fingers curling into the hair behind his neck.
he had finished his plate, but was now properly feeding you, and despite a shake of your head, was making sure you finished your plate. the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your arms around him and his around yours, breathing in one another’s scent.
he was so manly all over, the faint smell of sweat alongside his cologne and skin was intoxicating and you wanted it ingrained in your mind forever.
“well done.” he murmured down at you, soft for a change, causing you to look up.
the smile that formed on your lips was enough for him to dedicate his entire life to praising you, wanting to see it every single day for the rest of his life. he couldn’t fathom how lucky he was to have the object of his desires all pretty, in a cute apron and dress; cooking for him, just so he’d feel good. fuck.
“i’m happy you liked it.” you admitted in a small voice. “i really wanted to make it good for you.”
“you don’t have to do anything, y/n.”
“i know, you always say that but i just..i wanna, okay?” you shook your head, nibbling away at your lip once again.
his thumb darted out, capturing your lip and releasing it from your teeth. god, he couldn’t get enough of how cute you were, looking up at him like that. his thumb pushed against your lips for a moment, letting it sit on your tongue, watching the way you wrapped your mouth around it.
the moment was gone within a second as he pulled back, a sudden look on his face you couldn’t decipher. before you could ponder on it, his lips finally connected with your own.
kissing jungkook was unlike anything you had ever expected. you knew him to be dominant, direct and manly, but this? he was all but devouring you. it wasn’t gentle like first kisses often tended to be, but demanding - rough. his lips moved against yours like he owned you, and you deflated immediately, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. your hands were in his hair, tugging him closer, your legs moving around him to now straddle instead of just sitting.
the second his tongue began exploring your mouth, you couldn’t hold back the moans.
he kissed like a man starved, his hands running up and down your body, cupping your ass, your breasts, before settling on your waist, chasing you every time you pulled away for breath.
by the time you had fully managed to depart from his lips, you were panting, eyes lidded and heart beating faster than you could keep up with. your hands slid from his hair down to his chest, as he captured your lips in small pecks.
jungkook could feel the day washing off of him. the dinner, your excitement, the kiss - fuck, even the thought of you paying for all of the things you wanted at the grocery shop with his card. he was visibly melting, more relaxed than he’d allowed himself to be in years and it was a sight for you too.
“go shower.” you whispered lightly to him, pecking his lips. “i’m gonna clean up.”
he simply nodded, capturing your lips in another heavy kiss that lasted far too long before letting out a grunt, setting you on your feet, and heading to the bathroom.
you stood there for a moment, eyes fluttering closed and breathing out through your nose.
god, you were so fucked.
—
later that evening, jungkook sat in front of the tv, legs spread, a can of beer in hand and the game playing loudly. he was the picture perfect image of relaxation, in a pair of sweats and a white tank, his hair still wet from his earlier shower, he truly didn’t think life could get better than this. he had jumped you the second he had gotten out, smothering you in as many kisses as he could get in before you started pushing him away, flushed pink and giddy.
his cock had been straining against his sweats for hours.
you, however, were a slight nervous wreck.
you stood near the edge of your now shared bed, nibbling away on your lip as you looked at yourself in the mirror. you had showered yourself, dried your hair, even did your makeup really nice. you were in a tank and tiny little cotton shorts, but underneath? the pink underwear he had bought you.
your only objective tonight was to make him cum.
a shaky breath left you as you ran your hand through your hair, making sure you looked okay. you wanted to make him feel good, wanted it more than anything else in the world, and you knew that once you started, the door would be wide open and your relationship would completely change.
you weren’t sure how many more times you could withstand the feeling of not quite being able to satisfy yourself. being home alone for most days, waiting for him to return with the thought of him heavy on your mind and mouth, trying to keep your hands out of the space inbetween your legs was impossible.
waking up to his boner pressing into you? unfair.
you knew he wanted this badly, maybe even more than you did, but he wasn’t about to push that on you given your strange dynamic. luckily for him, you were heeding the internet’s advice - you had fed him, now you were ready to drain his balls.
and so, you walked into the living room, his eyes completely trained on the tv as you sat beside him on the couch, not looking up at you. his hand, however, sat high on your bare thigh immediately, all whilst his cock strained against his clothes.
you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noticing him taking a swig of his beer, attention entirely on the game playing, easing your nerves massively. you shifted, his hand dropping from your thigh as you began your plan of action.
jungkook finally looked at you, only to catch you pulling your hair up into a ponytail. he would have thought nothing of it had it not been for your outfit, your pretty lipstick, the way you looked like you were ready to be fucking used. his lips parted as he watched you drop to your knees in front of him, innocent eyes no longer feeling as naive as he once thought.
before he could even say anything, your smaller hands began reaching for his waistband, fingers hooking until you were able to push them down enough for his fat cock to spring free.
he watched you gasp. watched you take in his length and girth, a fucked up part of his brain eager to break you finally as you blinked away your visible fear. he wasn’t just big, he was monstrous. the type of cock to break you from the inside, the type to hurt and make you sore for days. the type that had you moaning just at the sight of it.
your hand finally wrapped around it, although your fingers didn’t touch and that alone had your head dropping to his thigh, mouth already drooling.
“so pretty.” you whimpered up at him, causing him to jolt in your grip, a low grunt filling the air. “gonna break yourself trying to make it fit in your mouth.” he nudged your chin with his fingers, his words condescending but they only made you wetter.
a surge of confidence ran through you as you huffed up at him, tongue laying flat as you let his cock tap against it a few times, licking up all the salted beads of precum. soon enough, you were suckling at his tip, moaning and circling your tongue.
his hand shot to the back of your head with a loud curse, his eyes closed. he hadn’t had anyone warming his bed in months upon months, and now that he had you, he knew no one else would ever be good enough.
watching you finally begin to suck and bob your head was enough to have him pushing down your head, forcing you to accommodate another inch or two. it made you gag, but the wet patch forming on your shorts was proof enough you liked it. your hands pumped the rest of his cock in unison as you eagerly sucked, whimpering against the most sensitive part of him.
“fuck, look at you.” he hissed out loud, continuing to bob your head. “wanted this from day one, didn’t you?”
you parted from his cock for air, gasping lightly as you pumped him faster, nodding despite already feeling lightheaded. god, jungkook had barely begun and you were already so needy - he yearned to know what you’d be like once he finally impaled you fully.
“wanted it so bad.” you admitted through a small voice, eyes never leaving his as you tapped his cock onto your tongue again a few times before opening your mouth and starting it again.
this time, jungkook pushed your head down further and further, watching his cock disappear down your throat until you couldn’t take anymore, pulling off for breath once more, your shattered gasps and gulps enough for him to cup your cheek.
“that’s my girl, look at you.” his coos were hardly sweet, with a clear edge to them as you bounced your head up and down, sucking him with all of your energy. he swore, throwing his head back. “should’ve done this a long time ago. look how good you look choking on me.”
your legs were quivering with want, wanting nothing more than to play with your clit in that moment but focusing on him regardless. jungkook was already close, and as much as he wanted to paint your throat in his cum, he had no intentions of cumming anywhere other than your fucking womb.
suddenly; his hands on your head were pulling at your hair, forcing you off of his cock as you panted for air, chest rising and falling. your lips were covered in spit, and yet you looked like a vision made just for him, his cock tweaking at the sight of you.
he forced you to get up, which you happily did, falling onto the couch beside him as he grabbed onto your legs, hand grabbing your shorts and harshly pulling them down only to be met with the pink lacy set he had been thinking of all day.
his silence was met with a shaky giggle from as you spread your legs once more, your panties absolutely soaked through, and yet you wanted more.
“i hope you like them.” you hummed, as he began to hover over you. “wanted to wear them for you.”
“yeah?” he groaned quietly, fingers tracing the shape of your pussy through them. “fuck, you’re tiny. i’m gonna break you, you know that?”
“promise?” you whispered back, causing his eyes to flicker back to you, his cock jolting.
you were a secret minx.
his lips were on yours within seconds, tasting himself on your tongue as he devoured you, moving against you with utter ease. instead of taking your panties off, he simply moved them to the side, pulling your tank down to reveal your tits spilling out of your matching lacy bra. pink was a colour he wanted you in every waking moment, you looked better than he could have ever imagined.
his hand was on you immediately, fingers rubbing away at your clit causing you to whimper at the feel of relief finally. you were wound up so tight anyway, to have someone touching you after so so long was a feeling you had forgotten. to be touched by jungkook was a whole other ballpark.
you both moaned into each other’s mouths as your hand began to pump him, bodies moving in unison as you focused on pleasuring one another. it only took a few minutes for you to succumb to your first orgasm, loud moans leaving your lips as you shook in his arms.
he watched you hungrily, his brain chemistry changing before for your very eyes.
this is what you looked like cumming.
oh. how had he lived? how had he survived a life without your face scrunching up, whining out his name so pathetically, legs shaking around him whilst your hand only gripped him tighter.
it wasn’t enough, though. never. he allowed you a moment or two of rest before circling your clit once more, watching you jostle in overstimulation. his fingers were inside you without any prior warning, pumping as he heard you whine loudly.
“j-jungkook!” you shrieked, hand falling from his aching cock as you grabbed onto his shoulders, grounding yourself.
“fuck, there you go. c’mon.” he was hissing down at you, fingering you deep, bigger than anything you had taken in a while.
the stretch was delicious, and you already felt so full - you couldn’t even fathom being fucked by his cock, but the thought had your hips lifting for more.
jungkook coaxed two more orgasms out of you just like that, leaving you a shaky and dazed mess, before removing his fingers, sucking on them with a loud grunt. he went to move inbetween your legs, to make good work of the slick dripping from you only to be stopped by your smaller hands.
“want you.” you whimpered with a shake of your head. “don’t wanna wait anymore.”
“need to stretch you baby, you’re still tight.” he shook his head back at you, grabbing your legs and pulling you closer.
“no.” you huffed, voice suddenly bratty. “you said you’d give me anything i want..”
he closed his eyes at that, cock throbbing. fuck, you already knew his weak spots, and he had every intention of making you feel it just as deeply as he could. he departed from you entirely, leaning back, pulling you up by your arms firmly.
“get on the bed.” he simply uttered to you, voice dark. he was so firm, so direct - his words sat in your stomach as you shakily did exactly that, leaning on the walls as you wobbled your way over.
even in moments of heightened passion, he couldn’t get over how tooth achingly sweet you were.
you laid on the bed, head plush on your shared pillows as you managed to catch your breath. jungkook walked in, hair a mess, shoulders sore from the scratches you had left behind, cock hard and against his stomach as he approached. neither of you could look away from one another, as he grabbed your hips and yanked you down closer to him, hovering over you immediately.
“give me a kiss.” he hushed down at you, causing you to lean up, pressing a sweet peck to his lips. you were so cute to him.
he lined himself up with you, rubbing his cock up and down, causing you to whine, the size of him against you already addicting. soon, he started to push in, the tip of his cock already stretching you wider than anything you had ever taken.
jungkook hovering over you, his arms caging you in other side of your head as he pushed deeper, deeper and deeper. you could feel your thighs quivering, your wide eyes shutting tight as you felt you couldn’t breathe by the time he was half way in. he wasn’t fairing any better. this was out of his wildest dreams, panting on top of you, cooing down at you.
“my good girl, so so good to me. look at you taking it so well. were born to take me, weren’t you baby?” he cooed down, causing you to whimper as you could feel the familiar sting of tears forming in your eyes.
you nodded, sucking in a shaky breath as your arms wrapped around his neck. “s-so big.”
he hissed as he continued to push inside, managing to fit his entire length in after multiple minutes. you were breathing deeply, chest rising and falling as jungkook waited for you to settle down, watching the way your stomach bulged from the intrusion.
“you can take it.” he assured, hand pressing down on your stomach, against the bulge causing you to shriek loudly, eyes closing tight again. tears were beginning to stream, and he could feel himself getting harder.
“you c-can..can move.” you whimpered out.
with seconds, jungkook began to thrust.
if you thought you had experienced pleasure before, you were sorely mistaken.
you knew then that nothing would ever feel like this, nothing could compete or compare - this was everything your body has subconsciously craved for years, given to you by the much older, stranger who had taken you in for his own.
the pain was overshadowed by the thrill and pleasure, his deep thrusts hitting a sponge part of you that was already pulling you closer and closer to the edge. your tears were streaming as he rested his head against your own.
“needed this from you, baby. been thinking about you for so long, you know that?” he grunted out loud. “now you’re all mine..all mine to fuck.”
“yours..all y-yours, kook.” you nodded vigorously, hands pulling at his hair. “feel so big.”
he hid his face in your neck as his pace began to quicken, causing you to borderline scream out his name. you didn’t care who could hear you, the feeling of being pounded into by a cock too big for you euphoric. he couldn’t get enough of you, the taste of your skin on his tongue as he sucked on your neck, leaving heavy hickeys to mark you for the entire world to see.
you couldn’t hold back on the sobs, crying out from the overstimulation; the pleasure, the stinging pain. it was too much and not enough, at one point finding yourself even beating your fists against his chest, only causing him to fuck you harder.
soon enough, jungkook flipped you around, so you were on your stomach, his chest pressing harshly on your back. you could barely move in this position, couldn’t breathe very well either, merely forced to endure the pleasure of jungkook taking care of you. your shallow breaths alongside the chant of his name were like music to his ears, as he kissed and bit on your shoulders.
“my girl. gonna make you my wife, you know that?” he promised down at you, pounding at this point.
“don’t..say that.” you gasped loudly, his words making you clench harshly around his cock, clearly liking it far too much than you wanted to admit.
you had been in house for two weeks and yet the thought of this treatment for life, belonging to jungkook for the rest of your days, was enough to make you sob in joy. your cheek was smushed into the pillow, as you grabbed onto the sheets for life, only for him to intertwine his fingers with your own from behind.
“you like that, huh..” he let out a small laugh. “wanna be my wife, pretty girl? wanna be mrs jeon?”
you were clenching uncontrollably, only edging him closer to his own orgasm.
“fuck..just like that.” he grunted. “gonna wake up to a ring on your finger one of these days. don’t give a fuck that it’s too soon, gotta make sure you get what this is.” he was picking your body up from the bed, your ass in the air suddenly as his thrusts only got more brutal. “you belong to me, you understand? every part of you, all mine.”
“wan’it.” you admitted, through a small sob. “wanna be your wife, kookie, want it so so bad.”
“yeah?” he closed his eyes at your admission. “god. need to get you a house, make sure you decorate it just how you like. gotta spoil you like my wife deserves.”
you were seeing stars, the sound of skin slapping against skin louder than either of your whines, moans or sobs. he slid one of his hands down, circling your clit once more despite the fact you were already a bundle of over sensitivity.
at that, you squealed loudly.
“gonna cum soon, gonna fill this pussy up just like you deserve. get you all nice and round for me.” his words cut through you like a knife, causing you to lose your breath.
“please, please, please.” you begged, through harsh sobs. “cum inside, kookie, please, wanna have your baby.”
you couldn’t take it any longer. the movement of his fingers, the harshness of cock, the way you could feel his entire weight on your much smaller body - you could hardly breathe as your orgasm hit you like a freight train, rendering you useless.
you completely blacked out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you choked lightly, only causing jungkook to orgasm himself. he buried himself deep inside you with a final thrust, feeling you clench and milk him for all that he had.
the shared orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. it felt the closest to euphoria you’d ever felt, and you knew the feeling was mutual with the way the usually stoic, manly man on top of you was moaning into your shoulder, fucking you both through your orgasms.
he settled on top of you for a solid minute, still inside of you, repositioning you so you could breathe freely. he was breathing in your scent, his shoulders sagging as though the full stress of the day had finally escaped you. it was like he could breathe again, having bared his entire soul to you mid thrust only for it to be reciprocated in the filthiest of ways.
your eyes remained closed, even after he pulled out, and pushed his cum back into you with his fingers, secretly praying it would stick. you were a panting, dazed mess as he picked you up and took you to the bathroom, drawing you a bath all the whilst holding you firmly into his arms, not letting you worry about a single thing.
and once you were settled in, warm bubble coated water surrounding you as you nuzzled deeper and deeper into jungkook’s chest, only then did you open your eyes, meeting his gaze with parted lips.
“did you mean it?” you whispered quietly, almost afraid of his answer.
he didn’t respond to you at first. instead, he brushed a wet thumb over your cheek, watching the way you nuzzled into his cheek gently. he was were enamoured by you, both body and soul, and if he was a man of words, he would have professed his feelings for you grandly. alas, he was not, so instead, he did the next best thing.
jungkook took a hold of your left hand, easing it to his lips and planting a sweet kiss to your ring finger, right where he promised he would decorate it with jewellery soon.
he meant every fucking word.
—
three months had passed and welcomed pure bliss into your life. you knew that life with jungkook was a pleasure in itself, but from moving into a completely new home, one he had put under your name as a testimony of his love for you, to the ridiculously expensive gifts he would come home with each and every day. you were living a reality that you couldn’t have ever dreamt would belong to you.
you looked healthier - from your long hair to your flushed cheeks, your eyes brighter and your ribcage no longer poking out. you were head over heels in love with the man who had claimed you for his own like a modern day stalker, and yet you had never felt so sure of your safety.
jungkook loved in a way that was visible, not explicit. he wasn’t one to tell you those three words, instead opting to show you any change he would get, something that had you weeping constantly out of pure joy. something he couldn’t ever get over.
you liked the dynamic you had built for each other too. you got to play house, spending all of your time being domestic, cooking meals, trying new recipes, baking, adding furnishings to the home, making it completely and entirely your own whilst he went out and worked. he was a manual labour kind of guy, coming home with sweat lined skin and grease all over him, but that only made you want him so much more.
to know he worked so hard just to provide the picture perfect life for you had you riding him most nights, giving him the love he bestowed upon you in the best possible way you knew how. through milking his cock until his cum sat deep in your womb, a favourite pastime for you both.
even now, you were stood in your kitchen, phone in hand as you read the text jungkook had sent to you only moments prior. he never texted. ever.
your stomach flipped as you reread it over and over, trying to decipher the meaning for the text, instead of him calling you, your head tilted as your stomach sat doing somersaults.
‘don’t cook. bringing you something home.’
seemed innocent enough, but this was your man. you knew him intimately in a way many could only ever dream of - he was up to no good, you were sure of it.
you stared at the screen longer than you needed to, chewing on your bottom lip, bare feet cold against the kitchen tile. the apartment was quiet, save from the soft music playing from your tv, warm lighting dancing around your shared space whilst the low hum of the city rumbled through the walls.
you were already cooking. of course you were.
you liked when he came home to food, a visual manifestation of the fact you had been waiting for him to arrive - a kiss to his soul that told him directly that you wanted him to know you were thinking of him.
regardless, you turned the stove off, forever obedient to your older boyfriend.
you were in a matching loungewear set, soft and pink, his favourite duo as the shorts barely covered your ass, your breasts bulging out of the low cut t-shirt thanks to the pretty bra you were wearing. your hair remained damp from your shower, clipped up and out of your face, skin soft and flushed.
you checked the time.
like clockwork, the door began to open, making you look up, smoothening the strands around your face. after all the moments spent together, you still felt so incredibly shy in his presence, something he would never get over.
his footsteps were heavy down the hallway, weight against hardwood, announcing his presence with every creak of the floor. the air changed the second he stepped inside of kitchen, as though the temperature warped to accommodate him and him alone.
he shut the door behind him with his foot, looking you up and down hungrily as he placed a brown bag on the dining table unceremoniously.
“you eat?”
his voice was rough from the day.
you shook your head gently. “no..waited for you.”
he glanced at the stove, noticing the cooling pan and your sheepish little smile. he tilted his head.
“told you not to cook.”
“i turned it off.” you murmured just as he grunted softly. you walked over to him, helping him out of his work jacket; watching as his veins protruded from his arms, making you trace them immediately as a small habit.
you peered up, standing on your tip toes to plant a soft peck to his lips, with blazing cheeks that flushed too pink for the occasion.
he watched you for another instance, enamoured by you as per usual but there was something unreadable in his gaze. something darker, something raw that had been left untouched for too long, like a glass of water finally over spilling after being continuously poured into. you tilted your head at him gently.
you barely noticed it at first, too busy maintaining the intense eye contact, but jungkook reached into his pocket, grabbing something.
you watched as he placed something on the counter inbetween you.
something small.
velvet.
square.
the world suddenly fell completely silent as your eyes fell on it, your mouth completely drying up as your hands travelled up to your mouth. your breath had caught so sharply it left an ache in your chest.
your pulse thrummed harshly in your fingertips as you stared, and stared and stared, unable to bring yourself to open what you assumed was insane, unable to fathom this was a reality.
jungkook didn’t say anything for a few moments, before looking down at you, observing your reaction.
“open it.”
your eyes snapped up to him, finally.
“..what?”
his jaw shifted slightly. amused. “you know what it is.”
you do. of course you did, but it felt too big to say out loud. your fingers hovered over the box, desperate to touch but almost unsure.
“you’re serious..” you whispered faintly. it wasn’t doubt in your voice but absolute disbelief, like something you had only ever dreamt about was about to take place before your very eyes.
his eyes darkened at your tone. “i wouldn’t joke about shit like this.”
he stepped closer to you now, his chest touching the side of your body, caging you against the counter, his head dropping down so you could meet his gaze properly, without having to look up.
“you think i’ve been saying this for nothing?” he continued, voice low, rougher now. “you think i’m talking just to hear myself?”
you shook your head up at him, chest rising and falling as one of your hands gripped his shirt, hand on his hardened abs to ground yourself as you blinked tears away, trying to comprehend this was really happening.
“open it.” he nudged his nose towards the box, eyes trained on you intensely as your hand finally reached out to hold it, letting out a shaky breath.
opening it up caused you to let out a soft whimper, something that had your knees almost buckling.
the light of the kitchen caught on the heavy diamond sat comfortably in the box, a vision of both taste and money - it didn’t take a jeweller to tell you that this ring was worth more than every pay check you had ever gotten. there was nothing delicate or dainty about it, he wanted you to wear the best of the best and this was exactly that.
you pressed your fingers to your lips as you tried to control your breathing, looking up to meet his gaze through a teary gaze that he was already devouring. you were such a crybaby, and he fucking loved it - you cried over everything and anything, with the only remedy being himself.
“you like it.” he murmured, fingers pressing into your waist to ground you, voice certain.
you nod rapidly, letting out a shaky, teary exhale. “kookie, it’s so..it’s beautiful..”
“good.”
silence settled between you both again, but it sat thicker now. charged. your chest felt too tight, your stomach aching as you tried to keep your tears inside, all the whilst he began peppering your neck in kisses.
“you don’t have to-“ you started softly, tears beginning to stream. “i’m already yours, always.”
the words slip out before you could stop them, as you tried to stifle your sobs to no avail, hand shaking enough where you placed the box down onto the counter gently, too in awe of it to even comprehend it being real.
he stilled.
he stopped his kisses, leaning up to his full height before cupping your cheek with his hand, making your own head lean back to stare up at him. he swiped at your tears, humming lightly down at you. “yeah, you are.”
he took your fingers in his hold then, planting a sweet kiss to each finger, to your palm, to the tops. he took hold of the ring, feeling the weight of it for a moment before sliding it onto your finger slowly, letting you experience it first hand.
his calloused fingers were warm against your own, the size difference hitting you as it often did. it was the way in which it sat on your body, the weight of jungkook’s presence settling into your own and the love you both shared blatant and on display.
you were safe.
loved.
but more importantly? jungkook had chosen you, openly, directly, without fear of scrutinisation. he knew he was a man that moved fast, but it came with an understanding of exactly what he wanted.
you.
—
ahhhh!! handyman jungkook is finally here, thank you all for your patience - if this was something you enjoyed and you want to support me and my writing, here is my kofi <33
