Jeondoll

Masterlist

[jk2much]

A Line To Cross

Summary: First love comes true only for small percentage of people. You badly hoped it was the case with you too. But is it wise to fall in love with your best friend’s brother, who is 4 years older than you? There always seems to be a line you should not be crossing, but you are desperate to cross.

Warnings: Dom!Jungkook, Sub!reader, Yandere!jungkook, Smut, childhood crush, first love, First heartbreak, longing, friendship fluff, slice of life, explicit language, dirty talk, coercion, manipulative!JK, innocent virgin!reader, anxiety, social norms.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: I am not a native-english speaker. I wrote the entire fic myself. Every small emotion and detail to their feelings. However, i used tools to polish the typos and a bit of grammar here and there. I was planning to upload the rough draft but i went with this at last. I thought i was passionate about writing, but throughout the writing process i discovered how difficult and crazy the whole process is. So i never started the love story i wanted to write. Instead, i went for PWP. Its my first and last time writing anything at all. So, am happy if this is enjoyed.

UPDATE: i feel motivated. So i will continue this fic.

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Love stories are inherently beautiful things. Ever since you were a young teenager, you had desperately wanted one of your own. You daydreamed constantly about what it would feel like to fall deeply in love, to know the exact sensation of your chest fluttering with wild butterflies at the mere mention of a single name, the breathless thrill of a first kiss, and the intimacy of whispered, hushed secrets. It felt like the universal dream of every young girl, daydreaming about a charming boy from a distant land. In your case, however, that fantasy became entirely literal, though it ultimately arrived with a devastating cost.

You first met Jeon Jungkook when you were just a child, during one of the many joint picnics your parents planned with their absolute best friends. His parents had been incredibly close with yours since their own high school days. Because of that lifelong bond, you could only imagine how secure and relieved your parents felt leaving you to live in their family home for your upcoming university studies.

You had spent your entire childhood in the familiar streets of Busan, right up until your father suddenly moved the family to Washington for a major new work project. Just like that, you and your family had to leave everything behind, settling in America for the largest portion of your formative life.

Yuna, Jungkook’s younger sister, was exactly your age and quickly became the best friend you ever had. Growing up, the two of you played together constantly, sharing identical tastes in almost everything. Your days were filled with a chaotic mix of games, moving seamlessly from makeovers and cooking to intense rounds of Mortal Kombat and painting canvas after canvas. It truly felt like the two of you were destined to be best friends, perfectly mirroring the unbreakable bond of your parents.

In those early days, you were a naïve girl, much like Yuna, or perhaps, not entirely like her. While Yuna was quiet, she was profoundly observant, possessing the calm, steady personality of a textbook introvert. You, on the other hand, were by far the shiest person in your entire social circle. The mere thought of boys made you want to cower away entirely. You could call it a deep-seated social anxiety, or perhaps it was just the lingering after-effects of moving across the world at such a vulnerable, critical age, where trying to settle into a completely foreign environment and new social groups brought nothing but immense emotional challenges.

When it finally came time for higher education, you could have easily applied to any of the highly rated colleges in your local American district. However, the exact specialized course you planned to take was offered best at the prestigious Joon-sei College of Arts back in South Korea. Your family was deeply culturally rooted and exceptionally conservative. While they were open-minded in their own way, they were still a traditional Asian family at heart, meaning your parents expected a significant say in your life choices compared to the absolute freedom westerners your age enjoyed. It was never serious enough to make you feel suffocated, as they favored you immensely and rarely denied you anything, but it still took months of careful persuasion to convince them to send you across the ocean. At first, they were deeply anxious about how you would survive completely on your own. Those worries vanished the moment they learned you would be living safely at Yuna’s house, since the two of you had decided to attend the exact same college to pursue your mutual creative interests.

While you had missed Yuna terribly over the years, your time in America had been comforted by the arrival of another close friend. Mia was absolutely nothing like you or Yuna. She was a loud, unfiltered extrovert, the exact kind of person whose bold mouth could send any traditional elder in your home nation straight to an early grave. Mia routinely described her wild behavior as "stepping into the spicy chapter of adulthood," though to your sheltered mind, it sounded like plain filth. She never hesitated for a single second to put forth her thoughts; whatever entered her head immediately flew to the tip of her tongue.

You remembered one specific instance vividly, when you had invited Mia over for an early Christmas dinner, a tradition the two of you had shared a couple of times since your move. Sitting around the table, your mother warmly asked Mia what she wanted for Christmas. Your mother, being a traditional parent, never could have predicted the sheer audacity of the words that left Mia’s mouth.

Mia smiled brightly and said, "Oh! I wanna have sex. Lots! Lots. Of. Sex."

You choked violently on your glass of juice, your face burning as you seethed, "Mia!"

Glancing frantically at your mother, you watched her freeze dead in her tracks for two agonizing seconds, completely too baffled to form a coherent reply. Moving in an awkward silence, your mother simply placed two bowls of cereal onto the kitchen counter and murmured, "Maybe I will just get you a cute bag or a headset." You could only watch as your mother walked away, a stiff, deeply uncomfortable smile plastered on her face.

You desperately wished Mia understood just how deeply conservative your family truly was. In your household, sex was not just frowned upon; it was viewed as something strictly dirty and forbidden outside the boundaries of marriage. Although cultural views had shifted significantly during recent years, traditional families like yours still steadfastly refused to dishonor their heritage.

"Mia, are you serious?" you hissed fiercely the moment your mother was out of earshot. "Why would you say that to her?"

"Come on!" Mia scoffed, rolling her eyes. "How are they ever going to understand that these things are completely normal if you do not communicate? Do you seriously plan on going to college as a virgin?"

You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temples. "It is not about that. There are things you talk to your parents about, and there are things you simply do not."

Mia threw you a look of pure disbelief. "Oh, like this is some ancient taboo? Come on! This is 2026."

Brainwashed was not the word you would choose to describe yourself, but you were truly too rooted in your traditional life to ever dream of getting physical outside of a committed marriage. You did not consider yourself the most striking girl on your high school campus, but you were well aware of how you affected the opposite sex. Boys and grown men alike could not resist taking a lingering second look whenever you walked past. You had been approached by countless guys during your senior year for dates, and you might have actually said yes to one of them if it were not for the singular, devastating fact that you had been hopelessly in love with your childhood crush for as long as you could remember.

Jungkook had no official idea about the extent of your secret crush, but he loved to relentlessly tease you about how your cheeks turned bright red and how you transformed into a completely fluttery, nervous mess whenever he came near. He always told you he thought you were cute.

Even though your family had moved to the West when you were only in middle school, your parents never failed to organize a joint picnic at least once a year with Jungkook’s family. At this point, it had become a sacred annual tradition. Call it the curse of a first love, but you possessed an endless, consuming fascination with watching Jungkook. You spent those trips stealing secret, breathless glances at him. Every single year the families united, your attraction to him grew exponentially. It might have been your own romantic fantasy of falling in love, or it might have just been his magnetic presence, but you were down terribly bad. You would smile privately to yourself every single time his deep voice uttered your name, and you found it nearly impossible to maintain eye contact with him without your face flushing crimson.

He noticed everything. With time, Jungkook clearly figured out the nature of your crush. He found your reactions amusingly cute, even going so far as to buy you an ice cream cone as a quiet consolation prize when you experienced your very first heartbreak two years ago.

Jungkook was four years older than you, and during that particular annual picnic, he unexpectedly brought a girlfriend along. Before the familiar butterflies could even begin to flutter in your chest at the sight of Jungkook stepping out of the car, your heart shattered into pieces as you watched another person climb out of the passenger seat. The girl was undeniably beautiful.

He proudly introduced her to both of your gathered families. "Everyone, this is Jen. My girlfriend."

You were forced to sit there for what felt like agonizing hours, watching your family compliment her flawless looks while exchanging happy stories about how they met, where they lived, and everything in between. Yuna, being as deeply observant as always, was fully aware of your secret pining for her older brother. Seeing your distress, she quietly walked up behind you and wrapped her arms around you in a comforting hug. You wanted to cry, you wanted to cry so incredibly badly, but you forced yourself to stand up and walk away toward the lonely shoreline of the beach. You simply could not sit there and watch the romance unfold.

You loved Yuna with all of your heart, and there was nothing you looked forward to more each year than reuniting with your best friend. But as the years had passed and your feelings for Jungkook solidified into something intense and heavy, you had become even more thrilled for these annual meet-ups just to be near him. Now that it was painfully clear you had absolutely no hope of pining after an older college student, you resolved to finally move on from your feelings. It might have seemed silly to an outside observer, but a first love is never planned. It just happens in the most magical way, even if yours was destined to remain entirely unrequited.

Over the following years, your families continued to go on the exact same picnics, and you did your absolute best to ignore the ache in your chest. By the time this current summer picnic arrived, you came armed with a firm resolution. You had finally made peace with yourself, fully believing that the broken feelings of your first love would soon pass. You were able to let your mind cool, entering the vacation with a completely renewed mindset. You had to admit, it initially turned out to be the absolute best summer. You and Yuna had so much fun together that she actually started crying when it came time to bid each other goodbye. It had never been quite that emotional before, but that summer, it felt like the two of you had grown closer than ever.

Jungkook, however, was completely taken aback by you. Where did the quiet little cutie pie go? he found himself thinking. You were now a high school senior, and your body had developed much faster than those of your peers. Your old tomboy clothing had long been replaced by outfits that filled out your prominent curves perfectly. You were an absolute sight to look at. If you had realized just how frequently Jungkook was stealing dark glances at you, your firm resolve to move on would have broken instantly.

He began approaching you far too many times, making small talk, handing you snacks, and constantly interrupting your private time with Yuna just to ask about your life abroad, your friendships, and specifically, if you were in any relationships.

You froze the exact moment his deep voice asked if you were currently single. All of the intense, fluttery chaos you thought you had buried came rushing back into your chest. He watched your cheeks turn instantly red, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face. He clearly had the intention of changing the topic, but because you were such a captivating sight to look at, he decided to press your buttons just a little bit further.

"Have you had a first kiss yet?" he murmured.

Your eyes snapped up to catch his glance, noticing a dangerous, sharp glint in his dark eyes. He was deliberately teasing you.

Yuna immediately complained, stepping in to shield you. "Yah! What is with the interrogation? Leave us alone. We have a lot of things to talk about, so stop wasting our time."

Jungkook slowly stood up to walk out of the camp tent, throwing a small, wicked smirk over his shoulder, and you still could not seem to tear your eyes away from him.

Refusing to let you leave so soon, Yuna somehow convinced your parents to let you stay over at their family house for an extra week. Since it was only summer break, you decided it would be perfectly fine to spend the week at Yuna’s place, until you suddenly started to feel an intense, suffocating heat. It had nothing to do with the summer sun or the endless sports you played all day; it was entirely due to a heavy pair of eyes that seemed permanently fixed on your body. You caught Jungkook eyeing you way too many times over the first two days. He was always lingering nearby whenever you and Yuna were together. You could tell something fundamental had changed in him, but you were far too scared to point fingers or voice your suspicions.

Like that one sweltering afternoon, when you were playing a casual game of badminton with Yuna in the yard. As you bowed low to pick up the dropped shuttlecock, your skirt rode up high on your thighs. Jungkook was sitting right there in the outdoor lounge, silently watching the two of you giggle and play around. The sight physically affected him. For a split second, you caught his eyes darkening with pure, heavy lust before he quickly masked it, sending a charming smile your way and asking if you both wanted some lemonade, claiming he was about to go make some himself.

You turned around, entirely unsuspecting. "Yes! I am feeling so thirsty."

Yuna completely missed the way his lips moved as he stared directly at you, silently mouthing the words, “So am I.”

A violent, physical shiver ran straight down your spine at his bold antics. He slowly eyed you up and down with that exact same dark, predatory gaze, throwing you the ever-present smirk he had been carrying for the past two days. You felt your heart race in your chest. What was wrong with him?

The very next day, the three of you were playing in the family swimming pool. This particular summer had to be the hottest on record, because you were all losing your energy far too quickly to do anything that required excessive movement. Instead, you all chose to kick back and chill in the cool water. Yuna laughed loudly at your failed attempts to learn how to swim. You were an absolute scaredy-cat when it came to deep water; call it a petty fear or not, you were simply not a swimming enthusiast.

Jungkook, however, was absolutely not going to let it go. Without warning, his large hand submerged, pulling you deeper into the water by your ankle and immediately catching your waist to hold you flush against his chest so you would not drown. He laughed deeply as you thrashed around wildly in his muscular arms, begging him to let you go.

He insisted that swimming was fun and that he was going to personally teach you. When you realized he was not going to release you, you were forced to stick incredibly close to his body, terrified of slipping under. Your movements started awkwardly but quickly turned hilarious as you kept splashing around, forcing Jungkook to repeatedly hoist your body up just so you could breathe. Yuna and Jungkook were having the absolute time of their lives watching your funny attempts. You all laughed and played around in the sun for a while, the old comfort briefly returning.

Eventually, Jungkook’s mother called out from the house, asking Yuna to come grab the snacks she had freshly prepared. You watched your best friend leave the pool area, still laughing at your antics, leaving you entirely alone in the water to continue learning with Jungkook.

Just when you thought you were doing well, your deep fear of the water got the absolute best of you. You panicked, thrashing wildly again as you lost your footing. Jungkook let out a rich laugh and pulled you firmly against his hard chest to stabilize you. In the sudden chaos of tangled limbs, his broad palm accidentally brushed fully over the top of your bare breast.

You tried your absolute best to play it completely nonchalant, but you instantly saw him freeze, his dark eyes staring down at your chest for a beat longer than necessary. A sudden, heavy silence fell over the pool. Nervous and flushing hot, you pressed your palms against his bare chest, trying to push yourself away from him.

He immediately grabbed your wrist, locking you in place, and spoke in a low, gravelly voice. "Blushing much?"

You saw a faint, wicked smirk pull at his lips, his eyes deeply boring into yours. He was teasing you, pushing you right to the edge.

Over those past few days, you kept trying to tell yourself that you were just overthinking his behavior whenever you caught him flirting or staring. But the very next night, he left absolutely no room for doubt when he silently sneaked into your bedroom. Yuna had caught the worst of the intense summer heat and had fallen incredibly sick, fast asleep in her own room since early evening. You were profoundly surprised to see his tall frame slip through your door at such a late hour. He claimed he was merely walking by, saw the light shining from beneath your door, and decided to stop by for a little late-night chit-chat.

You did not give it much thought until he slowly, deliberately started to close the physical distance between you on the bed. To say your heart was racing would be a massive understatement.

"If I had known you would turn out to be this gorgeous," Jungkook murmured, his voice a low, raspy purr in the quiet room, "I would have waited a couple of years. You know?"

Your heart was hammering at an unstoppable speed. You had absolutely no idea how to change the topic or get him out. He was your best friend’s older brother, and more importantly, he was supposed to be someone else’s boyfriend. You were naïve, but you were definitely not stupid enough to miss exactly where he was heading with this. His intentions became entirely clear by the way his large, warm hand began to lazily graze the skin of your thighs. Under the dim amber glow of the bedside lamp, you caught the heavy, unadulterated look of lust in his eyes far too many times.

You desperately wished he would back off when you placed your trembling hands against his chest to push him away. But he kept leaning over you, his heavy frame hovering directly above yours, his dark eyes locking onto your lips. Slowly, deliberately, his physical weight coaxed and pushed you backward until your shoulders hit the mattress. His lips began to graze tauntingly over yours, delivering light, agonizingly hot brushes of skin. You were not thrashing around wildly like you had in the swimming pool, but you kept pushing against his broad shoulders with every ounce of strength you possessed.

He completely ignored your resistance, continuing to press his body down onto yours. "You grew up to be really irresistible," he murmured against your skin, his voice deep and entirely degrading to your innocence. "Your body was practically made to sin."

You were so incredibly nervous. You were far too conservative to even maintain direct eye contact with a boy, and here you were, being masterfully coaxed and forced into sleeping with him. Your back was pinned flat against the mattress as he applied a bit of firm pressure, his mouth suddenly crashing down to kiss you feverishly.

He began aggressively nibbling and sucking at your lips, the sloppy, wet sounds of his tongue taking over your mouth filling the quiet room with a sound that felt far too sinful for your ears. Every now and then, he would pull back just enough to staring into your wide, panicked eyes, completely amused by your helplessness. You did not even know how he was able to successfully convince you not to scream out for help or run from the room, but he took your virginity on that bed. He simply refused to hear a no. He smoothed over your panic by gently but firmly coaxing your body into the pooling desire, his lips completely assaulting your skin with deep kisses, heavy sucks, and wet licks all over your neck and chest.

The sheer intensity of it sent you completely overboard. You were far too nervous, hot, and overwhelmed to recollect every single explicit detail of the act, but you remembered crying out, "No, Jungkook. Please, no."

He kept leaning down, murmuring into your ear, "Baby, please. Do not deny me this. You are going to love it, I promise. How long are you planning to live under a rock? Let me show you what real pleasure feels like. You will like it."

"Jungkook, please no... it will hurt. And we cannot do this. Please."

But he did not stop at your desperate pleads. His invading, calloused hands efficiently stripped you entirely out of your clothes, roaming over intimate places on your body that you had never even touched yourself. He continued to mewl sweet, wicked nothings into your ear as his fingers gently but firmly spread your legs wide apart. To your panicked mind, it felt like a lifetime. It felt as if time had stopped entirely and the earth had ceased to spin.

You remembered tears spilling down your cheeks because his thick, rigid length simply would not fit into your tight, untouched opening. He let out a sharp hiss against your skin, his hips pressing forward as he gently but relentlessly coaxed your body into taking him. It felt sharp and painful for a long time, until he began whispering into your ear about how much he had dreaded the thought of not being able to possess you. He expressed exactly how shocked he was to find that the shy, squirmy little girl had grown into such a sexy, curvy, tempting vixen. He kept telling you how he fully deserved this sex with you, masterfully manipulating your mind into believing that you somehow owed him your virginity simply because of the childhood crush you had harbored for years.

You remembered how he kept fucking you all night long. He completely refused to leave your body after just one round. He gently but firmly coaxed you into letting him back between your aching legs for a second, intense round. After his final, shuddering orgasm, he fell completely flat on top of you. His massive weight was entirely crushing your small frame against the mattress, but all of your complicated, lingering feelings for him completely clouded your mind.

Panting heavily in the dark, you whispered, "So... you knew? All this while, you knew that I liked you?"

Jungkook looked down at your disheveled form, a smug, deeply satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "You were never good at disguising it, Y/N."

"Then why now?" you whispered, a heavy wave of guilt crashing over you. "You have a girlfriend. If you liked me back then, why didn't you say anything to me?"

Jungkook let out a dark, amused chuckle. "For your information, Jen and I are just friends with benefits. We are not serious at all. Of course, I was not going to introduce her to our parents as the friend I casually fuck."

You cringed deeply at his blunt, filthy words, but he merely pressed his heavy body closer against yours. "Look, your parents and mine... they always hoped you would end up with me anyway. It will not upset them if you did."

"But, isn't it wro--"

You were abruptly cut off as a sharp, involuntary moan left your lips. "Ah!"

You felt him growing thick and rigid inside you all over again. "Jungkook, stop... I do not think I can take one more."

"Oh yes you can, and yes you will," he whispered darkly against your ear.

Soon, his mouth crashed down to capture your lips, completely stopping any further protests before they could form. He reached out, pulling the heavy blanket completely over both of your tangled, sweating bodies.

"I am sorry, little one, but it is going to be a very long night," he growled against your mouth, his hips driving downward as he entered you again without a single warning. "Get used to it, because you have to satisfy these urges for the rest of your life."

"Jungkook, sto—Ah!"

The night was incredibly long, and his passion was entirely too strong. By the time morning arrived, you were forced to bear the heavy, dark marks of his lust all over your skin. He had not hidden them well at all, deliberately leaving deep purple love bites on the most visible places of your neck and collarbone. When it came time to pack, your mother was far too flustered and awkward to ask you directly about them, but she definitely took note of the hints, silently remembering your years of blushing around him.

The very next day, after you finally returned to America, you met up with Mia. The moment she saw you walk through the door, she gawked at you like she had just witnessed a ghost.

"Shut up!" Mia shrieked, her eyes blowing wide as she stared at the prominent marks peeking out from your collar. "Who in the world did you get with? Baby, spill everything right now!"

Looking at her wildly excited face, you let out a heavy sigh, realizing it was going to be an absolute nightmare dealing with her ecstatic ass now.

(Part 2 in progress)

[taegularities]

ruin you | kth & jjk (m) | masterpost

It started with a gentle spark and harmless gazes; but by now, you’re caught in a wildfire that will expand until you’re burned inside and out.

➳ pairing: Taehyung x female reader x Jungkook

➳ rating: 18+

➳ genre: established relationship, fwb; fluff, angst, smut

➳ status: completed

➳ full word count: 85.2k

➳ playlist 🎶 

Keep reading

[taegularities]

we can't be friends | jjk (m)

Summary: Jungkook once planted a garden in your chest that he watered when he smiled and you killed when he left. But flowers withering isn't enough; that doesn't mend the ache. No – you want this entire story to die. Or: If living on can't mend the pain of losing him, maybe forgetting him for good will.

➵ pairing: Jungkook x female reader ➵ rating: 18+ ➵ genre: exes au, college!au; angst, fluff, smut; oneshot ➵ warnings: heartache, past breakup, flashbacks, memories, memory erasure (eternal sunshine of the spotless mind vibe), tears, gaslighting, anxiety, abandonment issues, controlling partner, but also banter and flirting, angst angst angstttt, fighting but also such tender moments, college sweethearts 🥺, science talk, prob not fully accurate but i tried, jealousy, making up; explicit sexual content: oral (f. & m. rec.), teasing, edging, overstimulation, kissing, licking, protected sex, hard sex, soft sex, dom!jk, big dick!jk ofc, every position ever lol, first time sex, make up sex, biting, tiddie love, banter;… the ending… if i forgot anything pls lmk. try and analyse this one phew ➵ word count: 34.4k oops ➵ a/n: another angsty taegularities special :D the flashbacks are written in a way that oc is reliving them instead of just observing – that way, they're easier to read. hope you like this one. i poured a lot of my heart into it. and later, come and talk to me about it if you'd like! 💞

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

The location of the notorious office you sought out is inconspicuous.

From the outside, it’s an old fashioned, grey building with a large door and ugly, yellow patterns around it. An abominable idea by whichever architect affirmed the original draft.

The street is rather quiet, accordingly, surrounded by the two buildings you’re standing between; above the doctor’s office, there are apartments. Open windows let a scented breeze into the open, spreading in all directions — towards you, too.

It must be some garlicky recipe, you assume. You like garlic. He liked garlic even more, didn’t he?

You shake your head, well aware that you’re only procrastinating; that at some point, you’ll need to enter, so that the hour-long trip and all the mental preparation don’t end up redundant.

You look around. How legit is this really? Perhaps not at all. Then again, you’ve seen it work on somebody before — either that, or they put on an act you didn’t know they were capable of.

Your eyes wander to the bag you’re holding, then back to the door. And eventually, you move forwards, reaching for the handle, and enter an even quieter hallway. It’s shabbier than the outside, like some place that hasn’t been renovated since the 80s.

If this was a regular doctor’s office, you reckon their patients would bolt, seeking help elsewhere. But considering that this is the only erasure company to exist in this country, you have no other choice.

Yet, once you actually ring the bell to the medical practice and are permitted inside, you realise that one should truly never judge a book by its cover — at least the one that jumps into the eyes at first.

Because the waiting room really isn’t that bad. Still a bit outdated, sure, but nowhere you couldn’t stay for a while. And the girl behind the counter smiles at you as soon as she detects you, making up for the rest of the building that she’s forced to see every day.

Or maybe you’re just perceiving it all worse, judging it because you’re not in a good mood. No, you know you aren’t. And the people waiting around don’t help either.

You glimpse around. Some of them are staring into a near nothing, watching particles hover in the air; they’re holding onto plushies or toys, shirts or boxes filled with belongings. You dare not imagine who they might have lost to bring all that with them…

You have half a mind to turn around again, to count your blessings and recall that some people are surviving grief that you can barely fathom. That yours won’t compare to theirs.

But backing away won’t stop the hurt. If you coward your way out of this, you’ll only return to a dead silent apartment, broken by nothing but your sobs. Not laughter, not jests, not his voice.

And you can’t soak the pillow again.

No. You gulp, close in to the counter, watching the girl lay down her pen. She leans in and welcomes you with a gentle, empathetic, “Welcome to Better Tomorrow. How can I help?”

She knows exactly how. There is only one good intention for anybody to come in here, but you reckon she needs a proper reason or an analysis of your situation to actually register you in their system.

You tell her, “I uh— I want to use your selective memory erasure services. I heard about them from a… a friend.” It’s a lie; but you can’t really get into how you stumbled upon this place. You feel that you sound ridiculous as is. “I brought a few things.”

Her kind eyes dart to the bag around your shoulder, and you remove a strap from it, cramming through the contents that you can’t use yet anyway. You continue, “This should all do. I read that core memories are key.”

“Indeed! You did your research,” she responds, rolling back with her chair, a hand under her desk. She fishes a paper out of some compartment and adds, “If you could just fill out this form, please, so the doctors can get an overview of your situation.”

You thought so.

Her hands fold together after she has slided the paper towards you, and if possible at all, her eyes pour further pity onto you. You realise that it might be a job requirement: Kindness and care, aiding an upset person to feel encouraged rather than only more upset.

You heard of a couple complaints about Better Tomorrow that caused quite a ruckus and nearly had the company close a few years back. When you were still actively and happily wading through life and experiences, you learned about it for the first time, but…

It wasn’t relevant at all back then. You didn’t think it’d ever become important to you in any way, either.

She — her name tag reads Inna — then says, “So basically — you will hear about this in further detail from the doctor — but, basically, the erasure happens at your home or any private place that you can rely on to not cause absolute confusion. You need to be unsuspicious once you’re done.”

You nod along, a knot in your throat; you’re hearing her clear as day, but you don’t think you‘ll believe it until you see it. This sounds like wishful thinking for now. But you have seen it affect others before.

Maybe you’re also here to convince yourself that they are indeed lying, that even in advanced times like these, there cannot be a device that can alter your brain at such a level. Like… come on—

Clinically, artificially triggered amnesia? No, not even that. Memories still exist underneath a fog when it comes to amnesia; these people here delete them as if they never existed.

This company will mean the ruin for every, “I will never forget about you,” line ever used in movies and books and poetry.

“And how do I—” you start, just at the moment she taps the paper on your side of the counter again; still staring at you in case you utter a question she didn’t expect. But when you skim the explanation and the terms on the paper, you only voice, “Ah.”

“Yes. This form explains most of it,” Inna says, repeating, “and Dr. Choi will run you through it, too. But in case you‘re worried, the procedure is fully safe and reversible within twenty-four hours.”

You wonder how something can be reversible if you can’t remember what you need reversed.

Then, you see it on the paper, again. She says it, too, “Because some people experience some lags or because they find something that triggers a core memory. It takes the brain a day or so to adjust, like it is with waiting for medicine to kick in. After that, it’s all done.”

“Thank you,” is all you manage. The bag seems heavy all of a sudden, the straps digging into your shoulder. “May I…”

You reach for a pen attached to a chain, shackled to the table. The Inna girl nods, gesturing towards a different writing instrument. “Of course. Take this one if you want — it’s not attached to the table. Take a seat and take your time. If you have any questions, let me know.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

You turn around, look for an empty seat. There are plenty; of course, the place isn’t filled. You don’t think a lot of people decide on having part of their memory changed on a random Tuesday morning.

You sit down in a corner with a sigh, brushing back your hair, and start reading through the paper. It doesn’t include too many conditions or strict rules. Most of it is straightforward. Describes the procedure in general; and while you’re certain you’ll hear about it a couple more times, you memorise the words carefully.

Apparently, Better Tomorrow relies on working with synapses and the amygdala. Memories, being patterns of neural connections, are dissolved as one works through them one by one; ultimately, this leads to disruption of the links around specific memory traces.

The activity in the amygdala is suppressed in the process in order to assure smooth success and only selective memory erasure. Which, according to this complicated little form, is particularly important to not bring remaining, unrelated memories into disorder.

Some of them are only altered, some entirely removed. The procedure is safe throughout and does not affect any other memory gathered throughout life.

Etcetera, etcetera. A lot of mind-boggling stuff that requires several rereads. Not that the scientific part is too important to you; you just need to trust that all this works.

At the end, you glance at another disclaimer; one that, admittedly, scares you the most.

“Please understand, however, that certain memories are rooted deep in the brain and might not be erased as efficiently without disturbing the overall life experiences. In such cases, your doctor may reject your case for your benefit and suggest methods and solutions unrelated to Better Tomorrow.”

Ah. What a great way to hint at therapy. You assume that some traumas aren’t easy to remove without damaging one’s entire life.

This is mostly the complex part, the theoretical part. The rest only mentions how to behave the day before, to eat and drink enough but not heavily, to get sufficient sleep and to settle on a proper and relaxed location of your choosing for the operation.

Finally, it asks you to fill out some data. Your name, your reason, the objects you’ll bring and need, the subject slash object of erasure — which you leave blank for a second because you know that once it’s written, you might feel panic emerge.

And, last but not least, a tiny box demanding to be ticked. Terms and conditions; to be aware that in the case of issues — since it’s still a fairly new and at times experimental thing — you’ll be liable for it because you very much knew of the risks that come with memory removal.

It can’t get any worse, though. So you draw a cross into the box. Sign and bring the paper back to Inna. 

She reads through the stuff you filled out, making sure you didn’t miss anything — but of course you did. “Subject or object of erasure is still blank.”

She points at it, and you sigh.

Gripping the pen again, you numb yourself, putting down two words in the box before you turn the paper again. She nods, thanking you, and says, “Memory erasure and home visits take time, so I will submit the form and the doctor will give you a call as soon as possible.”

You nod, too, thoughts and heart racing. There’s a monumental question mark in your mind; unsure whether you should let your chest hurt like this until the doctor calls — or maybe you should screw this all, go far away and learn to deal with the pain.

But that’s it, you guess. When Inna claims the form and mutters something about how she won’t need the objects in your bag just yet — since you put them down on the paper —, you catch a last glimpse of your writing.

It disappears in the compartment again, just like the name you wrote on it; and before it does, you see it one last time.

Subject/object of erasure: Jeon Jungkook.

You have learned that there are limited ways of dealing with pain.

Everybody says that aches like these fade with time and that the world and the passing of years heal you, yada yada yada. But you haven’t experienced any of the relief yet. This still feels like death; even after months of isolation and methods of coping.

Looking at the stuff you took out from your bag feels like being stabbed by a poisonous syringe over and over again. You have transferred most of it to a box, mixing it with things you don’t need. As the doctor and her assistant — Kim Byul, she introduced — wait wait outside, you sort through your belongings.

All that you’ll need on the right side, all that is irrelevant to the left. Your hands work faster than your brain; pictures, clothes, a bracelet to the right. Recent bills on the left. Small things like a butterfly necklace or bluetooth headphones to the side, so you don’t lose them.

And finally, you’re all done. This should do. You’ll tidy up once it’s all done. To your future self, it’ll just be your random mess, and you’ll deal with it without too many questions, you’re sure — you clean up regularly anyway.

When you return to the living room, Dr. Choi is munching on a cookie that you served with a floral printed cup of tea, and when she hears and sees you return, she brushes the crumbles off her hands. Smiles. 

“Ready?” she wonders, standing; Byul follows her to the machine when you hum.

“As ready as I can be,” you say, “it just sounds a bit scary.”

“It might feel like it, too, at times. It’s not always easy; most of the time it hurts.” She clicks through some tabs that you don’t understand. So you stop peeking over her shoulder and sit down on the dark blue polyester sofa instead. “But once you manage your way through, you’ll feel lighter.”

You don’t answer. You let her work. She mumbles things to Byul, fumbling with some wires and takes out a funny-looking hat, similar to the one you once saw when you had an EEG done at the neurologist’s.

Then, she turns to you, stares at the box in your hands. She takes a seat next to you calmly, lifting her trousers to her ankles before she crosses her legs. Then, she starts explaining — your body reacts. It’s time soon.

“So, as you know, what we do here isn’t just forgetting,” she says, “it’s unbinding. We use targeted neuro-disruption to remove the synaptic links around a specific memory, especially its emotional anchors.”

“I read about that in the form, too. So, if I understood correctly, it’s like deleting a file?”

Dr. Choi snickers a bit.

“Hmm, pretty much. Like removing it from your mind’s search engine. The memory sometimes exists in fragments, somewhere so extremely deep you can’t reach. This is very rare, though. But even if it does happen, it won’t hurt, won’t surface and won’t feel real.”

She tilts her head, recalls, “Some clients who served as test objects in the early days and who still had some fragments left, they… reported a sense of distance after the first memory was erased. Like remembering a story they were told, not something they lived.”

It’s almost doubtful.

Could he ever just become a story you were told? Will you ever feel like you didn’t live and breathe every moment, indulged in every touch, savoured the tingling skin when his fingertips moved along your arm?

If you were alone, you might whimper in agony.

Rare, though. She said that was rare. You hold onto that hope, that promise; trust in the fact that everything will most likely be gone in a few hours’ time.

Still, you say, “This sounds… bittersweet.”

“Sometimes it is. But it doesn’t torment you anymore. In such cases, it’s like remembering an embarrassing or regretful moment for a bit that’s barely yours, like something you’ve seen in a movie, and then moving on soon after. But don’t worry about that. Worst case scenario.”

You get glassy eyed, zoning out, only realising now that you haven’t been looking at her. That you’re, just like the people in the waiting room, watching the dust float by. But it’s not numbness, rather…

“I’m terrified,” you tell her.

You feel a hand press down on yours. There must be special training in how to deliver empathy, because these professionals do it so well. Not even people close to you are capable of such gentle gazes.

“We will be here throughout,” Dr. Choi promises, “please tell us if you feel any physical discomfort or need a break. Once a memory is erased, it’s truly gone, and that thought is not easy to digest.”

You gulp again before she adds, “Some people need multiple sessions, some are done after an hour. It really depends on what your brain decides on. We will do our best, but you’ll need to cooperate. Need to want this.”

They won’t force you, of course. She told you even when she came in that it’s important to think it through, to be absolutely certain. Better Tomorrow exists to make your life easier, not to wish evil on you.

But you’ve done all the thinking. Weeks and weeks of it. You might regret it if you send her home again.

So you nod, grabbing the first oddly shaped object from the box for comfort; you saw Byul scanning them as you talked.

And then, you tell her, “I will cooperate. I promise.”

Reaching for the first memory doesn’t feel like floating through a dystopian system or rushing through a tunnel of neurons.

You thought it’d resemble a costly science fiction scene that captures every electric activity, every picture of every nerve. Rather, it resembles waking up from a dream — or into a dream. Like opening your eyes to a room you already know.

You perceive a sense of an echo, a bit like a movie filter indeed, rosy and slightly blurred face all over — as though each inch is drenched in a dim, invisible light. The way you’d imagine time travelling, or, a memory dive.

It’s somewhat of a bird’s perspective, but also not. You don’t exactly have a body to look down at; you’re not a second presence standing beside the one in the memory. In truth, it is exactly like a dream, where you can somehow see yourself, but at the same time, are yourself.

You guess that it’d be easier if you were a beetle, sticking to some wall and letting it all play out instead of actually feeling it all. But you’re not a beetle.

You’re you, living through what was, as if it is happening right now, happening again. This feels real.

Yet you can’t seem to do much except watch… see the memory unfold, and at some point soon, vanish.

It was — is? — a college seminar room. You’re in the third row, scribbling, an arm on the table and the head subtly angled. You look innocent, unbothered, calm. Somewhere here, you know that you’ll find him as well, but the room is much bigger than usual seminar rooms and the students are abundant.

Of course, you can also only see what you remember. You don’t recall where he sat; only the faces that your unconscious mind grasped onto that day. Very faint, very blurred, like dolls or as if censored.

Most of this place consists of mere pieces, really. You certainly wouldn’t know where he was or how he looked at you or anyone, for that matter. What he was doing when the professor called your name, unfairly so as he often did.

Your past self — no, you gaze up. This was that one class you couldn’t stand. The professor had a dirty habit of zeroing in on certain people while ignoring others. You were one of the former.

A second ago, you were minding your own business, bullet point notes filling your notebook. You were quiet, yes, but did he expect everyone to keep a hand raised at all times? Generally, you guess he wasn’t a particularly nice person.

Your own eyebrows lift as your name echoes, and you, while well aware of his question and the answer, unreasonably utter, “Sorry?”

The professor sighs. He puts a hand in the pocket of his dark blue trousers, legs crossed and the right palm on his table as he repeats, “I said: How would Marx interpret the rise of influencer culture?”

You repress a smirk. It’s one of the topics that your college tried to incorporate in your studies’ syllabus, to resonate with young students, modernise lectures. Quite honestly, no boring class could be saved with this method, really.

You start with a hesitant, “Ah, yes. Uhm.”

Your fingers are playing with your pen, tip of it in and out, and you hold the professor’s expectant stare. You know he’s creating his own assumptions, certain that you won’t deliver at all. He always glances over his glasses, condescending as his reputation, but then you lift your head and, as far as your brain can recall, say something in the lines of—

“Well, Marx would probably regard influencer culture as a new form of capitalism — where even people’s personalities and lifestyles become commodities. Influencers sell their image and followers consume it, which keeps the system of profit going. It’s like…”

You shrug, calm as still waters. “Like turning identity itself into a product.”

Silence. A cough somewhere that you remember vividly. You could hear a needle drop. Then, he says, “Mmh, that’s a solid take. Most people just say, Marx hated capitalism and stop there. Good.”

He wiggles a finger and then turns back to find his place behind the large desk. You tangibly feel the rush of pride and satisfaction as he nods, his stance defeated by your already thriving interest in whatever he is trying to teach you.

If you remember correctly, he won’t pick on you again after this; at least not for a couple of weeks. Perhaps he does and stops afterwards; your memories are a tad jumbled. Either way, you prove him wrong each time, the same content feeling lighting up your brain.

But you will still swear off any of his classes and choose other, more laid back professors for the rest of the subjects.

Your smile widens, lowered to your notes again. In a way, albeit the frequent recurrence of nostalgic colours even today, you are relieved that you’re done with your studies.

But you miss other aspects of it. Like the people, the busy mensas and the court you used to soak in the sun in between or after classes. Like that day.

Perhaps it is a conscious decision your brain makes, but the scene changes. You don’t reckon that more than an hour has passed; you’re still tranquil, with a steady heartbeat as you bask in the late summer breeze. 

Autumn will settle in properly, with only a couple rainy days in between, but the warmth of the summer will linger.

Because he’s right here. A man so close you feel his presence, see the Air Jordans on the grass, and a moment later, you hear a velvety and joyous voice sounding over you.

“It’s you,” he’s saying.

You look up; his face is more a silhouette than anything, but you think you recognise the silky mane and the usual oversize style. You wonder, “Is it me?”

“Isn’t it?”

You put your laptop down. “I mean, it is, but you let the you sound so important.”

“I’d hope you don’t consider yourself unimportant.”

He looks ahead, squints an eye, though the sun is right over his head, breathes in the air. Then, he asks, “May I?”, pointing at the ground. You nod, and as soon as you see him properly, he smiles, says, “What I mean is… fuck that guy.”

There is no way to interpret what he said as what he claims it means, but you understand immediately. You know that Jeon Jungkook is in your class, too, and that he must be one of the people who sat absolutely still only an hour ago, recognising just how much of an ass the full adult teaching a college class is.

“Indeed, huh?” you agree.

“If it helps, don’t think he has actual bad blood with anybody. I’ve heard he’s sworn off women and now he lets it out on all the girls on campus, too.”

“How fitting for a sociology professor.” You sigh. “That’s so great, though. As if there’s not enough rage women carry already.”

You lean back, trying to process his face without ogling for too long or too obviously. This guy is inhumanly handsome; his moles sit just right in his face, the curve of his lips artistic. You don’t know what he does with his hair, but it’s full and shiny, probably soft as feathers.

And when he smiles, you see dimples emerge, unique ones, too. He’s a rare combination of beauty and poise, and even though you have already explored his mind, body and soul, you feel the initial fascination anew.

There are moments in this memory that make you forget that you haven’t turned the clock and jumped into who you once were. There are rarely second, and barely ever third chances in life.

In a moment this will be gone. You need to hold onto it, at least for a minute, at least for the remainder of the time that’s left.

You let the conversation flow, aware of all this, but unable to change the memory. You listen and smile back when Jungkook vows, “I won’t give you any reason to rage.”

“Then you seem too good to be true.”

“Really? The bar is low these days. But also… I don’t think I’m too good. I just consider myself good.”

“Really?” you echo. “How does one know for sure?”

“Well,” he leans back, too, imitating your crossed legs, head up to blink into the sun for a moment. He’s golden. “If you want to get into this on a sociology basis, you’ll have to wait, so I can write you an entire essay.”

You laugh. “But?”

“But if you want a short answer… I think sometimes you just know. There is enough evil in this world and we see it, whether in our lives or in the news… and if you can’t identify with it, I don’t think you’re bad.”

You think about it, let it sink in. There’s logic to his words, some truth you might make your own. Perhaps a silver lining whenever you find yourself in doubt.

But…

“Dunno,” you conflict, “sometimes we still judge and do things that we don’t consider bad, not really, but… they might seem awful or odd to others.”

“…Like what?”

“Like. Well, I don’t know.” You lift your hands, shaking your head. Your eyes fall to your knees, racking your brain, and when something surfaces, you try, “Like growing up with trauma and promising to not forward it, but doing it anyway.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, nodding — he must be a true talent when it comes to friendly discussions, an intellectual while possibly competitive in other areas. He adds, “Or hoping for somebody to lose a connection with someone on purpose because one can’t stand the third party.”

You turn to look at him, eyebrows closing in before you chuckle. You admit, “That sounds oddly specific.”

“To be fair… yours did, too.”

Touché. 

You press your lips together to signal defeat and as you look away, he laughs, following your gaze until the two of you grow quieter. A while later, you tell him, “Didn’t think somebody would notice me.”

“After that thing today? Sure. I noticed you before, too.” You cock an eyebrow and he immediately stutters, briefly but tellingly before he clarifies, “Not in a creepy way. I just remember most faces, especially in class. It’s not a huge group of people.”

“I don’t know, we are quite a few. But… I did see you before, too.”

He shrugs a wide shoulder. “Must be my charm.”

He knows how to make you laugh; the dangerous type of person to succumb to. Not that you’re already in that spiral that he might pull people into, for sure, but you don’t assume he’s easy to combat.

“Must be,” you say under another snicker.

He nods his chin towards the laptop and the book next to it as he asks, “Are you doing today’s homework?”

“Hm? Oh. Yep.”

“Mind if I join? Might be easier together. Like a study group — duo.”

You don’t struggle with the matter at all; you’re nearly done, too. But his warmth next to your body is comfortable and you like his voice and his eyes and the way he talks—

So you succumb a little.

“Sure!”

And as soon as you do, the pixels break.

As if a connection is cutting. As much as you gave in that day, the feeling comes to pass; the place wears away, as if you’re underwater and then—

The lingering emotions become a dream. The fragments disappear.

But while the memory vanishes, the feeling doesn’t. Dr. Choi told you, didn’t she? It’ll need a core memory for it all to fade in its entirety.

Because as you move to the next room, as though witnessing a cut to the next scene at a theatre, the affection still runs deep. Your past self doesn’t exactly spell the big L-word just yet, and from where you sit, as though in her body but through somebody else’s eyes, you know you’re not fully lost in him yet.

Just on your way there…

This is another classroom, but the walls are painted in a different colour. Not white, but an ugly, dirty, pale yellow. This time, you’re further back, still diligent but slightly preoccupied.

On the other side of the room, Jungkook has his head propped in his hand, his fingers and eyes signalling messages from afar. His lips word something you can’t decode and you shake your head, laugh because his mere presence makes you laugh anyway.

You’ve known him for a while, and you can never stop looking.

But you keep your banter-loving self intact as you leave the room, your steps slowing while his accelerate. He effortlessly reaches you before you can vanish out the door — but you’d have waited anyway.

You warn, “You need to stop.”

“What, why?”

“You distract me.”

His smirk is smug, proud, proving a long intended goal now reached. His elbow nudges your side, tickling you a little in the process, and he rejoices, “That’s my purpose!”

You roll your eyes, forcing them away from his intoxicating face. He’s cut his bangs, and the way they frame his features softens him — like dipping him in something unbearably sweet, as if to ruin your day.

All sugar and warmth and whipped cream and sprinkles on top.

You challenge, “Then why don’t you just sit next to me, huh?”

“Because,” he tsks, a smacking sound, and then has the audacity to claim, “it’d make me lose my focus even more. Can’t afford that.”

“…You find me distracting? I’m all calm and studious.”

“Do I find you distracting? More than anything.”

Your steps halt. It’s the lax, nonchalant tone that catches you off guard. It doesn’t match his words immediately — but then you remember that this makes up an enormous part of his personality.

You know that in your later time together, he’ll use this as a defense mechanism, too. Will speak his emotions freely, but at the same time keep himself composed in case your reaction doesn’t match what he intends.

That is, until his restraint breaks. At some point, he’ll become too comfortable. Sometimes a blessing, mostly a curse.

Right now, you find this approach endearing, refreshing; but under the right circumstances, you’ll come to grow irritated by it.

As he comes to a stand, peeking over his shoulder to find you a couple feet behind, you calm your pulse and the pace of your heart. Your wit escapes you on rare occasions, and he summons most of them. So the best you could do is stutter, right?

No. You grant yourself a moment to rack your brain; a needless preparation, because just before you can provide an uncreative answer, he realises. His eyebrows rise by a minimum.

But then he tells you just as coolly as he likes to be, “You’re my friend. Of course I’d find you distracting. Don’t you remember your school days?”

You scoff. You don’t mean to, but somehow you still do, maybe disappointed by his response, or disappointed by your own expectations. You ask, “Is that it?”

“Yes.” The answer shoots out of him, confidently and firmly. A sigh follows and his shoulders fall, as if he’s tired of explaining something to you over and over — before remarking, “We talked about this, bug. It’s my charm. You’re supposed to fall in love with me, not me with you.”

You’re already interrupting halfway through, turning away from him and then back when his hand grips your elbow. He’s laughing quietly, a lovely and genuine cackle, and once he’s done and your old, beloved sarcasm has recovered, you question, “Okay, and is it working?”

“Is it working? You tell me.”

Douchebag.

“I meant the other way round,” you tell him, “you not falling in love with me. I can be charming, too, so — is it working?”

His laugh ebbs down, replaced by a more harmless, soundless smile. There is an answer in his dark pupils somewhere, but you can’t see behind the sparkle. Neither through his words and to their intent when he says, “I see you’re learning from me.”

“Learning what?”

“Smooth-talking?”

“You are not a smooth-talker,” you bicker, forefinger pointedly poking his chest, “you’re just a dork who’s afraid of microwaves and talks about animated movies way too much.”

“I analyse them.”

You start walking down the hall, pulling up the strap of your bag. “Right. Your analysis is like eighty percent just you crushing on Meg from Hercules.”

He grimaces, a goofy expression that indicates that he can’t help it, and you punch his shoulder which makes him stumble a step or two. Purely performative, of course. He’s built like a Greek God himself.

“Hey,” he voices softly, a rapid change of topic that you barely expect, “speaking of… Come to the movies with me this weekend.”

Sometimes, you find it hard to counter at your usual speed, even though you often consider yourself a fast thinker and an even faster talker. Today, you don’t think and only talk, telling him foolishly, “I was actually going to busy myself this weekend.”

You weren’t.

“Doing what?” he wonders.

“Dodging you.”

“Damn. Do that then.” He hardens his jaw, completing your quipping, the tongue in his cheek more effective than he knows. “I’ll take another girl.”

He’s ahead of you as you reach the college’s exit, taking two steps at once; you hurry to catch up, a hand pulling at his wrist until his brisk pace matches yours again.

You mutter, “Shut up. Don’t you dare.”

Another low chuckle. And then, everything goes blank.

Jungkook got you seats in the back of the cinema hall because he promises it annoys other visitors less — and because he talks during movies. You do, too, so you’re okay with his decision.

You look around. Somehow, you can’t quite remember how you got to this place, but you guess he must have invited you sometime before.

At least, it seems that you aren’t yet as close as your real self remembers. It’s one of your first dates, though it still feels more like a friendly outing than anything else.

Doesn’t help your nerves, though.

And the sound effects, close behind you and blaring in your ears, only add to the nervous thumping of your heart. You didn’t mind the distance to the screen until the scenes of cars rushing and music playing reverberated in your head.

“I can’t even hear my own thoughts,” you wail-whisper into his ear, careful to not yell around but determined to give him a piece of your mind. “Too loud!”

“But I was right,” he stands his point, “nobody around to feel disturbed.”

“Shut up—”

You launch a tiny piece of the popcorn at him, and he shakes his head in reprimand, lecturing, “Hey! If you’re going to throw popcorn, don’t waste it. Target my mouth.”

You exhale, clicking your tongue before you offer it to him and he snatches it gratified. Instinctively, your finger bolts backwards, though unscathed, and you say, “Surprised that you didn’t bite me.”

He swallows the popcorn, asking, “Did you want me to?”

“Yes, it’s a kink.”

Your voice roars too much as the music slowly dies, the last notes of the cello piping down. Jungkook blows out a laugh, a head a couple rows ahead turning, holding your gaze and then returning to the movie.

You bite your lips, clear your throat. And then, quieter, tell him, “I thought you knew.”

“That it’s a kink? I should’ve. The amount of times you threaten to eat off my nose.”

Yes, because it’s cute. But you won’t tell him that. He continues, “Tell me more about your kinks.”

You puff out a sarcastic breath, side-eye him. “Well, if I told you already…”

You notice your mistake the moment it leaves you. You stare at the screen in a straight line, calming your breathing, sure he’s closing in enough that you can smell his perfume. The scent boggles your mind.

You know what he’s going to ask before he does it; courtesy to your memory, but you also know that you knew at this very moment, all those years ago. 

“Yeah?” he whispered. “When else will you tell me?”

He’s looking at you, not even veiling anymore that he’s closed the safe gap. His shoulder meets yours, warm against your clothes, and when you lift your gaze to his, the same words ghost your mind… in the exact same constellation…

I want to kiss him so bad.

How insane would it be if you drew in now, threw your gaze down, then up again, then down again and — met the cushiony balm of his lips?

Would he reciprocate it?

Maybe. You can’t rule it out; not with his smooth, warm fingertips reaching for your chin, lifting your face as he urges your eyes to align; they ignite a flicker. And not when he prompts, “Wanna tell me?”

“…Isn’t that weird?”

“Why?” He lets go, defuses the situation, even if only by a minimal fraction. The air is still galvanised, only almost broken by what he says next, “Really, why? We’re friends.”

You draw a breath. If he’s demanding it, you’ll play the game. What good does it do to weasel your way out of this? You’re not a scaredy-cat. And the more you get to him, the less he’ll be able to resist. You see it in his eyes.

There’s temptation and a sort of crackle neither of you can deny.

So you crawl up into his brain, snug and hot in your skin, and say, “Okay. I want to be crushed under… his weight.”

His, yours, just understand.

“Ah?” he voices.

“And I… I want him to shut me up if needed. In any way possible.”

This can’t be happening — are you dirty talking to your best friend? Is he even your best friend? He always feels more than this, like he’s stuck you into purgatory, neither in nor out of the hell that you’ll burn with him in.

Fuck.

You can see him stirring in his seat, restless, as if he’s attempting to hide in it and come out of it at once. You’re satisfied; you want him. Closer than he is, even closer than he becomes within a moment.

But as you remember the surroundings and who he still is to you… who you still are… you can’t get yourself to not crack under the nature of your bickering selves. Daredevil as you might be, you need a quiet space, someplace that doesn’t keep you waiting.

Though you’re still waiting. Still lingering. But you know — you see him. This intensity could get much worse, and you’d be forced to either flee the scene or continue things quietly, in secret.

So you go the safe route, finally break and say, “And then I want him to sell my toes pics, so we can get rich.”

Jungkook breathes out. Breathes out hard, as if he forgot for a couple seconds. His shoulders and body sink, somewhat exhausted, and he laughs breathily, inhaling, averting his gaze. That is, until he finds your eyes again, rolling his own when he sees your eyebrow twitch up in tease.

“Goddamn it,” he curses. “This isn’t doable. I think you should reconsider.”

Ah? Oh… 

Maybe he’s forgotten that you never mentioned him explicitly.

So you wonder further, a lilt in your voice, “Why are you offended?”

“I’m not.” Sure. That’s irrefutable, given the peach colour his face has turned to, visible even in only the light of the movie. “Just for whatever guy you choose.”

“Mhm,” you only hum.

He waits, shifts, and once his mind, as you assume, has cleared as much as yours, he asks, a hand on your arm, “Were you serious?”

You huff. “Totally. And…” You’re as bold as ever. Closer now instead of him. Tellingly, you throw the tiniest look down to his lap, and then back up to his face — a miniscule moment before you state, “You seemed to like it, too.”

“Oh yeah. I’m just a guy, and you’re hot. You gave me ideas for the future.”

You need a million nights to let each of his words sink in because… you thought you were brave?

You’re hot.

You gave me ideas.

You don’t get to ask him who the ideas are intended for, or how you being hot actually affects him — what he’d do with that info. If it was up to you, you’d leave right now, rush to his or your place, lock the door.

But you don’t get to. You only flinch when somebody in the more front rows shushes you, asking you to be quiet and let others enjoy the movie.

You knew what was coming and you have relived this day a dozen times over the years. But you still hate all of this anew; the wait, the proximity, the knowledge that after all the vigour the two of you basked in, everything came crashing down.

But what can you do?

In this very system, you are powerless. You might try to alter a memory, even though you haven’t yet figured out how. That is, if it’s possible at all. But you cannot change reality.

Just… at times, you forget that this is bygone.

So you can only sit back. Only say what you’re supposed to say; what you actually muttered afterwards, “You were wrong. We’re disturbing people.”

His hooded eyes close and open again. He’s still in a fog, coming down from it, quiet when he confesses, “Sometimes I can be, too.”

“…Was it perhaps a bad idea to come here?”

He laughs. There is tenderness to it sometimes, not the usual sarcasm or unabashed flirting. Just a soft, small chuckle.

The memory starts to fade.

His beam is followed by an equally feathery—

“Hey… I might be wrong at times, but… this is just right.”

You lift your face. Look at him; then back to the screen. And then, he disappears.

When you open your eyes and your fingers tangle with the wires, you’re not exactly sure whether this is yet another memory you can’t place.

The purpose is to forget, so maybe you’re somewhere in the midst of something your brain has already deleted. But then your head falls to the side, your eyelids fluttering open to an unclear vision of Dr. Choi and Byul, the assistant from before.

Choi said that while it’s crucial to forget they were ever here at all, it’s okay for you to wake up once or twice, since this would be the last encounter they’d remove from your software. You’re supposed to know as little about this as possible once you’re done after all.

But your first reaction is still anxiety. You didn’t think you’d need to wake up — so naturally, with your memory of them intact, you assume failure.

What went wrong? Do they doubt that you could’ve stayed in there, living through four years of your life until they left? Maybe there’s too much info, too much to obliterate.

“Leave this here,” you hear Dr. Choi say, her voice far away, growing the more you come to your senses.

Your face feels dry, cracked, and when you bring your hand to your cheek, your fingers catch the dampness. You cried — if they really started at the beginning, you cried reliving some of the most joyous moments the two of you shared. Or maybe that’s why.

The bittersweet beginning that you can’t return to, can’t hold onto. If there was a way to head-dive into a past so long passed and restore it and promise to fix things as they approached, you would.

You would… of course. If you hadn’t been ready to fix them before too, you wouldn’t have tried at all.

That’s the issue… you tried, but— but…

Your voice is as weak as your mind as you sit up, careful to not pluck out something that might fry your brain, “What happened?”

Dr. Choi’s instructions halt, a hand directing her assistant to stop. She regards you, forehead smooth and her tone calm, cool. You must look and sound so different from her.

“Okay,” she then mutters, turning back to Byul and quietly tells her to keep an eye on the data. Then, back to you, “Everything is fine. We’re just taking a break.”

Your chest lightens, if only by a bit. There is never enough air anyway to really free your heart. It feels clumped day in, day out — you don’t think the early days that you just wiped out did much to eradicate your feelings.

Everything still hurts. Like a fucking disease.

“Is that normal?” you ask.

“Yes, certainly. Even when their content is light, the memories you’re going through are heavy, and you’re separating even heavier emotions from who you are. They are yours. Bidding goodbye to something which was once yours isn’t easy.”

You would know…

Your throat constricts.

“And,” she continues, “that heaviness can feel like actual physical aches. You know how our body protects us from extreme pain by passing out? If we burden you with too much of what once was, it’ll become too much for you.”

“…What happens if I stay in there for too long, then?”

“Technically, nothing fatal. But it weighs heavy on the brain. Bad hormones might overshadow the good ones. And we want to make you happy, not worse without you even remembering how you got there.”

You nod. She’s a good doctor, isn’t she? Delivering explanations in such logical, empathetic ways. You guess the painful truth of what the program does could be lightened with a… well, lighter mood.

But how does one do that? Even a smooth-talking doctor like her can’t gloss over something so hefty.

She gives your pat a tiny shoulder, offers you a glass of water, and you nod once again, faintly. Your body is affected to the point of numbness; not the type of numb that blanks your mind but rather hurts.

It’s a paradox you cannot fathom. Maybe there is no science behind it, no words that can truly label every emotion after all.

You accept the water gratefully, sipping once reflexively. You aren’t hungry or thirsty or need anything particular at all, but your body is burning up, demanding hydration. If the liquid on your face is any indication of what’s to come, you’ll need an entire jug.

You’re scared.

A hand tightly wrapped around the glass, you watch the strangers in your home walking around, calculating whatever needed, talking, looking back and forth.

The object, a pen you used back in college, is still touching your tummy. You don’t know whether it was important for the memories or just a catalysator for the rest, but it must have done at least something.

You don’t know. You can’t remember anymore…

Your pulse heightens.

You can’t remember. You will stop remembering.

At this time, you know how you fell in love with him, how things played out in the three years after the one year you were friends. But even that will vanish, won’t it? How does one just… just forget? Forget somebody who used to be such a monumental part of—

You swallow. If you overthink it again, you will falter. And there is no going back, goddamn it. Even if you stop all of this now, you can’t regain whichever memories you just lost, and you won’t make things good with him again because… because he—

An odd sound escapes, somewhere between a silent sob and a breath; it catches Dr. Choi’s attention. She leaves her spot at the computer and walks up to you, gentle as she asks, “Are you okay? We will continue in a sec.”

You’re still for a moment. Barely blinking, head spinning. You close your eyes for a bit, and when you open them, you shake your head weakly. Your lips won’t move, but once you get them to, you say, “I still know that… A lot of our dates passed without any further steps.”

She listens, head angled, eyes soft. So you continue, “I still remember many of them. We haven’t gotten far yet, right?” You sigh — or rather, breathe out the crying. “It was the beginning and I was in love with him. I knew. But we didn’t kiss for a while. Some of it might already be erased, but the feelings are… still fully here.”

“Yes,” she immediately confirms, her voice so, so tender, “that’s what I meant. There are many core memories, but the ultimate one is somewhere in there… It'll take time. Do you know what it is? The rest can be removed faster once this one is gone.”

You give it a thought, but… how could you possibly guess? The time Jungkook and you spent together was a time with a heart less in the world. Yours was merged with his; every moment was valuable. Or almost.

You can’t…

“I don’t know if I can really… pin down one single moment,” you tell her, “there were too many. So, so many.”

She waits. Lets you think.

But when you come up with nothing in particular and too much at once, she speaks, “That’s how it is with complex feelings like affection. It’s riddled with places and tastes, scents and memories. Forgetting is much harder than loving. We let love consume us, so it’s easy to do.”

And sometimes, it leads to heartbreak that swallows you just as fast.

If Dr. Choi wasn’t doing this, you think, she’d be a writer. A poet, perhaps, jotting down human emotions as if she invented them.

It consumes one indeed; it devoured you alive until he did. He still gnaws at you, so deeply that it might kill you. You could bottle that power of his, use it as a weapon. When did the two of you become so lethal?

But Choi’s words make you wonder something else, too.

“…Have you done this, too? To yourself?”

She smiles; you nearly assume her answer. But then she shrugs, admits, “I don’t know. If I did, I am certainly not allowed to know. There’d be no point in it.”

“You just… you sound like it. Like there’s something one can never truly erase.”

“Hmm… sometimes there’s no memory erasure needed to feel that way.”

You silence.

Her smile stays, but her eyes sink to her fumbling thumbs. This is the most disquieted you have experienced her so far; and on top of a personal life, you guess that if you were in her shoes, you’d also feel a type of deeply rooted pain from the job alone.

Witnessing somebody’s pain and then watching it disperse can’t be easy. That’s what makes the job of a doctor what it is, doesn’t it?

Her chest rises and falls, and then she looks at you with newfound confidence. Back to what her profession demands, she states, “We’ll just get through everything and see where we find something. It takes time, but not ages.”

“How… how long was I gone now?”

“Only a couple minutes.”

You’re baffled. “That’s it?”

“It feels longer than it is. A lot of the memories are grouped and then taken away. You just relive those individually that were particularly important to you. As I said…”

Her smile is faint. Yes, you know. Core memories. “And the individual ones pass like dreaming. You might have noticed,” she remarks. No; you can’t say because you don’t know. “We don’t dream too long, but the story plays out that way.”

You can’t imagine which memories your brain could put into groups; you regard all of them as important.

“Yeah… yeah, okay.”

“Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure? As we progress, it will get harder. So use those breaks.”

Breaks… it’ll be a break until it stops being one. At some point, they’ll find the core memory, and then, you won’t wake up to their faces anymore, but to your room, empty, unaware of what transpired. Unknowing that something just broke off of you.

“Some of the core moments might be when we were already together. Or when we broke up,” you aid.

“Yes?”

“We can… we could try.”

Another nod. “Let’s do that, then.” She turns back to the computer, mumbles something to the assistant, and then orders, “Lay down again? We’ll continue.”

You shift on the pillow until your body feels light enough. Closing your eyes, you perceive some of the words, waiting for some signal or a start.

A moment later, you drift off.

She was right; this does feel like a dream. A soft and somewhat rosy, non-bug view.

And Jungkook is right there. The sting is extreme, searing.

He’s right here, in your arms, his usual warmth burning your body. Seasons passed briskly — and then, another autumn and another winter arrived and went. It’s been around a month that you’ve been with him now; for over a year, you endured the struggle his presence brought.

This must be the main echo of another group of memories. Once this one goes, the others will, too.

But for now, you remember the time that passed close to the day you’ve jumped into; and in those many, short, ecstatic weeks, the ambiguity between you shifted… and now your luck is immeasurable.

Or at least, at this very moment, you think it is. At some point, when more seasons have arrived and passed and arrived again, he will be gone. Luck might take on a different definition then; or rather, it will be wiped out of your vocabulary entirely.

Sometimes, love just isn’t enough — that’s what makes a star-crossed story tragic.

No villain, no betrayal. Just a beautiful connection that doesn’t survive the reality human beings build around themselves.

This isn’t a bad memory yet, but every ounce of the adoration you feel will lead to one. To many. Maybe you remember this one because of the nature of the conversation. Or because it foreshadows something you should’ve known back then already.

Or maybe because somewhere in your heart, you know that this will bring what you’re looking for… to dull the pain faster, straight as an arrow toward the core memory…

But first you need to reach that break up you’re looking for, right? The reason you suggested it to be the deeply buried trigger was easy; because in hurt and longing — this is when one loves the most.

Jungkook once told you.

No… he will tell you now.

He’s playing with your hand, moving closer to you under the sheets, still fully dressed. In truth, you haven’t reached the highest base yet. You’ve been in bed together, dating, making out, cuddling.

But something would usually come in between. Red alert exams. Your parents visiting. Jungkook’s brother visiting. Your period.

“We always talk about society, norms, the modern world and all that stuff in the books,” he says, “but never really about the real world itself.”

You were just talking about your current college classes and about who despises or loves you as fellow uni-goers. The class you attend is yet another one of those hipster ones, students with Starbucks lattes and other sociology clichés. 

The professor is nice, the topics are great; but Jungkook doesn’t seem to agree. So you ask, “What would you like to talk about?”

“Mmh… if there was just a class on how human beings act when affected by their emotions…”

“I don’t know,” you click your tongue, “this feels more like psychology than sociology.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s justifiable to talk about it in this class, too, though. Because, it sits right at the border… internal processes — psychology. Emotions in social context — sociology.”

He’s a good talker, and you’re easy to convince. You purse your lips, nodding on the pillow. Your stare is still fixated on the ceiling; you like listening to him. Calms you.

“So,” you repeat, “what would you like to talk about?”

“Okay, so—”

There he is. Revved up, turning to his side, your hand in between both his palms now. He likes the closeness, the touch.

“I’ve been learning a couple new words these days. They belong to different cultures and I don’t know. I wondered whether having words for certain emotions in one language, that don’t exist in another language, has any effect on the way a person thinks.”

You rethink his query, let it echo in your mind until it has dawned on you. Okay. You gesture for him to continue, “Like, does someone who knows the word Meraki go through life differently than someone who doesn’t know Greek?”

You snap a finger. You saw a similar post on Instagram just recently, a compilation of terms that cultures use to define certain complex emotions. Wide-eyed, you contribute, “Or, Koino Yokan. Do you know what it means?”

You meet his eyes, tearing them off the ceiling. When he gives a brief, “No,” your cheeks heat up. Aside from the way he looks at you, the phrase calls upon a warm, tingling sensation in you — something your body of that time remembers that your brain can’t.

An already deleted memory, you’re sure.

You trace his digits with a gentle forefinger, explaining, “Japanese. Knowing that one day, you’ll inevitably fall in love with somebody you just met. A sense that they’ll be yours.”

“Right… that’s pretty,” he smiles. Hums. “Saudade. Portuguese… Specific type of nostalgia. Missing somebody who is gone.”

There’s melancholy in his words, but somehow, your fondness for him grows. Something about the way he talks about emotions, understands them, draws you in. Jungkook has always showcased a clearly high EQ, but you couldn’t foresee just how much it’d deepen your attachment.

You ask, “Do you have more of these?”

“I do, yes. Some of them are sad.”

His voice is so tiny, so fragile. You blink. “You sound like they make you sad…”

“Maybe. I sometimes feel like I have felt a shit ton more than I needed to in life. I mean… like you, like everyone does. So somehow, these phrases hurt. There’s bittersweetness in them. I don’t… I dunno. Example — it’s difficult to lose somebody and not yet know what the emotion is called. Grief sounds almost… like an understatement.”

You grow bewildered and scared the further he ventures into his mind. Is he hinting at something? Trying to communicate through implicit musings?

Your eyebrows arch and then knit, and you ask, “What are you talking about?”

He hesitates, weighs his options — whether to say something or not. Maybe this is far bigger than you. Once he sees the growing dread in your face, his lips form an O, and he shakes his head, clarifies quickly—

“No. Nothing like that. Most of my friends moved when I was younger, and then we moved a lot. It’s just that it didn’t feel like I could keep people around for too long.”

He’s never told you that before. Or did he and you don’t know anymore? You can’t even guess.

But of course he’d treat these words with such care; once scarred by something so young, it is anything but easy to fully recover. You haven’t experienced such difficulties in life, hard knocks on wood, but you know plenty of people dealing with their own miseries.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say. You can’t undo his past, but you can make his future brighter, right? “I’m around.”

“You are,” he says, releasing your hand to kiss your palm.

“What was it?” you wonder, another inch closer to him. “The sad word you were thinking of.”

“Ah… Onsra, it was, I think. It’s an Indian word that Indians themselves don’t even always recognise. I’ve heard it’s kind of rare? And it describes the moment of loving someone for the last time. Knowing things are coming to an end, whatever end it may be.”

Your parted lips shut. You stare at him for a second, breathing out quietly, and he cocks an eyebrow with a tilt of his head as if to say, “Yep. I know.”

You say, “This is… so sad. That’s a shitty feeling.”

“It is… But oh — have you heard about that thing that—? Like, how people nowadays deal with such heartbreak in crazy ways, too? There are all sorts of programs to erase your memory and stuff, so the last time you love can be an actual last time.”

You feel like you’ve read about it somewhere, but you dismissed it as a hoax meant to squeeze money out of people. You didn’t think it was real. But Jungkook is usually well informed about worldly things, so there must be a certain truth to it.

Yet, you wonder, “Seriously?”

“Yep. Science and technology are advancing. But I feel like, if more people knew these words limited to some cultures, they might think about life differently. With a bit more hope.”

Ironic…

You mention, “Is this how you felt? As you moved around? Like you were loving for the last time.”

His answer is ambiguous, yet as clear as you can demand. You don’t address the subject matter further once he says, “I have felt it before. I don’t want to again.”

So you only promise, “I don’t think you will.”

“…Yeah?”

“Yes. Because,” your hand settles on his face, his skin hot under yours. You don’t think you’ve said this before because his eyes widen with each word, “I’m in love with you in a way that I know will never stop.”

The melancholy falls.

And his Cheshire Cat grin is immediate; eerie almost, or as much as Jungkook’s ethereal face is capable of looking. But it pulls you in because gosh, your cheek muscles hurt, unable to relax as you laugh, and then ask,

“What? You wanna say something, too?”

His grin falls, an expression taking its place that, at first glance, reminds you of fatigue. But it’s not. It’s one of the versions of his dreamlike stares, eyes so lost and found and achingly fond.

You can almost feel and taste the sincerity when he says, “I don’t need to tell you.”

“…Why?”

“Because. You know how I feel.”

The quiet stretch between you doesn’t feel awkward. He’s patiently ceasing all conversation, only looking at you, waiting for your reaction. But you’re not too big on words right now; your tongue is dry.

Longs for him.

So you only whisper now, bringing this era of endless teasing, safe distance and pure, innocent, silent craving to an end.

“I think I do.”

That’s more than enough.

Because a moment later, he’s kissing you.

You’ve kissed him a hundred times by now; your lips know it, and your body too, even when your mind doesn’t. But this time feels different. He is closer, holds you tighter, like he’s reaching for you from a distance.

And when the kiss deepens, he is more out of breath. Explores your lips with his, moving slowly, his mouth warm and sweet. His hand slithers to your sides, under your shirt, and at least some of his restraint wavers when he shifts fully to climb over you.

He holds your leg against his hip; you already had it wrapped around him, whenever that actually happened. And as he does, you feel the growing bulge poking your stomach, firmer when you kiss him like you’re glued to his lips.

And then… a subtle touch of the tongue.

Just the tip, just for a nanosecond before he backs away again, looks at you with misty eyes. Gauges your reaction. And then gives in when you sigh in want, diving back to seek the tongue. You play around, taste it like you’re starving, and he’s faring no better.

Not at all. In fact, the erection only hardens further, and you lift your ass, estimating what you’re getting in a bit. Not that you’re entirely unaware, though because…

Fuck, he’s hard. You arch your back until you press into him, call his name when he moves to your bare neck.

You hold onto his shirt as he licks a stripe along your skin, paving a way up to your jaw and then back further down to your clavicles. Your shirt is already oversized, but it’s stuck to you right now. It only moderately helps when he pushes the neck of it down; his kisses to the mounds of your tits suddenly chaste.

It’s when you whimper that he appears in sight again, all messy hair. You think he would’ve asked eventually; and when he does now, your heart soars, “Do you… want this?”

You flash a weak smile, too enraptured to properly react. “What do you think?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I need you to say it.”

His voice is so soft; like a pile of cotton. You grab him by the collar, lifting your too-tight shirt until your tits jump out. His eyes widen for a second; you watch, bigger than ever. He has seen you like this before, even if just for moments… but it never not amazes him. Men. 

Cursing under his breath, his hand grazes up and down your sides slowly. You break his string of thoughts — if there are any — as you admit, “I want you.”

“To… do what? Hm?”

“You know it.”

“Say it, bug, fuck,” he urges with a greed in his voice, humping into you. You breathe in.

“I want you to strip me bare.”

His tongue darts out, licks his lower lip and then yours. He shakes his head, waits, and when nothing follows, he laughs, “That’s it?”

“No. Of course not.” You swallow to wet your throat, even if just a bit. He could help. You’d get to your knees and keep going for him to help the dryness in there, you swear… “I want you to kiss me everywhere, too. And I want to suck your dick.”

The last one is impulsive, not very thought out. But it helps. It affects him. He draws a breath so sharp that it nearly reminds you of a whistle.

His head is visibly spinning, but he focuses, “Everywhere? May I?”

“Fuck, don’t ask. I… I want you to fuck me dumb, okay?” You mewl quietly when he lightly bites into your perked nipple. Those damn nerves; he’s making you say all this, “Pound me stupid. Right the fuck now.”

“Oh, get all bossy on me.”

“No. You.”

“Yes? I’d say you seem impatient, but… you took your sweet time telling me all that. Your kinks.”

You laugh; you really didn’t. You couldn’t have formed a thought faster. You’re already a mental mess… does he know that you’ve never been this empty-headed before in your life?

“Isn’t it obvious that I want you?” you ask.

“I don’t care. I need permission.”

Shit, you might dissolve.

“Take me then,” you order through gritted teeth — or beg, you don’t know, “I’ve been waiting for this.”

“…Ah, now that is… Since when?”

“Since… the movies.”

Too quick of an answer. He knows, too, judging the smug chuckle.

“Right, right… there was a reason for you to list all your fetishes,” Jungkook remarks, lips above your ribs.

“Great observation but… you don’t even know half of them, baby.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me. This damn near killed me. What is this?” He’s talking about or to your shirt, upset at it, and the interaction makes you laugh. His expression is hilariously irked when he pulls it over your head, only relaxing when he buries his face in your tits. Hums. “Mmmh, I want you naked. My God, you’re drop dead gorgeous.”

“You—you’re one to talk. I’ve seen you tits out before, Jungkook.”

“I’ve seen you, too,” he jokes, a slap to your chest, “just haven’t gotten this far yet.”

He means gone, not gotten, you’re sure.

He’s right, as he proceeds, he’s still as little innocent as you are. While you wished to get to know each other better before giving in completely, his lips still sometimes found their way between your chest, his fingers up your thighs… this isn’t new. But it just… truly never went far.

Because Jungkook is a fucking tease. Would stop before you’d unfold, so you’d stroke his dick over his pants before he could explode. He’d kiss you, light up your nerves, but then suggest getting dinner just when his fingertips slid under your panties. That’s it.

This is much more. Much, much more.

He kisses you one more time before he moves down your body, licking stripes along your skin and leaving behind gentle, temporary bite marks. Your shorts are easy to get rid of, so if he teases you now, you’ll flip.

But Jungkook being Jungkook, of course does; tells you, “Let’s see what you’ve got there for me.”

He raises your leg once more, further kisses to your inner thigh, inching in until he reaches your pleading core and pulls down your panties, too. The repetitive innocent touches of his lips to your heat rile you up.

“Look at this,” he says, well aware that you can’t, “you’re already a waterfall. What if I did nothing at all? You look so… ready.”

“Yeah? Then come up and do your thing.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, and assures, “Is this reverse psychology?”

You want to answer, shrug your shoulders, throw out a provocative, bratty response or two — but a moment later, he’s attached his lips to your pussy.

And he does it so well from the very first moment on. Kisses your nether lips the same way he made out with you before, crude, wet sounds erupting as he moans into you.

You reckon this is all much more tender than he will be in a while; because while the tongue that he adds a second later is pleasant, you see the flames in his eyes when he looks up. You throw a glance down at just the right moment.

See him staring up, beastly pupils, almost rude the way they affect you along with the figure eights down below. If he continues just a bit longer, the saliva, combined with the juices he’s lapping up, will dirty the sheets and his clothes.

But you don’t think he gives a rat’s ass about the bed at this point. He’s moving into it, seeking friction, all while concentrating on nothing but your taste and your touch and your smoldering body.

You call out a desperate, “Jungkook,” when he wraps his soft, velvety lips around your clit, softly sucking, never painful. He’s not oblivious like that, you think. He’s paying attention.

Whenever he grunts and groans, the sounds echo through you; the vibration only adds to your pleasure; you cannot complain. Or maybe, maybe you can…

Because as he shifts, his clothed shoulder brushing along your inner thigh, you flinch at the scraping of the unpleasant fabric.

Why is he even still wearing clothes? Goddamn inequality.

You tell him, “Take off your clothes.”

“Huh?”

“This,” you tug at the shirt, trying to pull it off of him, “off.”

He stares for a second. The info must not register in his brain, because his eyes are lost, processing it. And when he does, he says, “Is only fair. ‘Kay.” He flicks the bean, hilariously dramatic as he says, “Be right back, lovelies.”

Moving back, he comes to a stand at the edge of the bed, his lips glossy from your essence; you do wonder whether he’ll keep the promise to be back. From what you can deduce, he will make you beg today.

He reaches for the hem of his shirt, gathering the fabric slowly, almost absentmindedly; he cannot stop staring at you, up and down, taking you in. The cotton bunches in his hands before he lifts it over his head in one smooth motion, hair falling back into place as the shirt drops to the floor.

Then, his fingers move to his joggers. He loosens the straps, slides them down along with his boxers, and sets his limbs free; hurls the clothes onto the lonely shirt until an unceremonious pile remains on the floor.

He doesn’t rush it, of course. He moves like someone who’s adjusting to a sight, getting comfortable, familiar. Despite having feasted on you already, he’s still not used to you. You feel proud.

You melt under the half-smile, the kind that knows you’re carefully watching. He doesn’t mind at all; he wants you to. And you so are.

You’re taking in each detail. The ripple of his abs, the firm chest. The perked nipples and bulging bicep. And the smooth pelvis, leading down to an impossibly stiff, growing, huge dick.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter, and he rubs his neck; less out of humility, but more to say, “Well, yeah.”

Maybe he expected you to react the way you do. The open mouth and the surprise in your eyes; the hunger and the urge to jump his bones. But you bet he doesn’t expect you to get up to your knees, watching you near his awaiting body.

In truth, he’s already readying himself to fall back onto the bed, continue where he left off; but you’re faster. Sitting up straight, you reach for his cock, eliciting a gasp of surprise when you start moving your hand up and down.

“Now that is…” he starts, clicks his tongue. He caresses your hair, pushes it behind your ear. And when your thumb circles around his slit, he puffs out a breath and says, “I think I’m okay with this.”

“Okay, huh?”

“More than okay. Do your thing, my girl.”

You break out into a grin. If this is what a life with him is going to be like, you’re certainly prepared for it. Love is only half as scary when someone offers a sense of safety.

Funny how only a single endearment can do that, too.

You should let him know that you feel the same.

So your knees shift further, right to the edge of the bed, and as you bring your legs together to seek relief, you return the favour, too. Take him into your mouth keenly, leading him in as much as you can take.

The head lays on your tongue dripping, precum spilling as you repress your gag reflex. But you remain steadfast. Begin darting your head back and forth. You hollow your cheeks, suck at the tip, spitting and gathering more saliva until he’s drenched.

Your tongue comes into play not long after; it swirls around the skin, draws circles the way he did. You attempt your best to get enough air in, sure that you won’t stop until he tells you to. You keep going as long as his cock twitches inside, throbbing, so hard that you suspect he’s already close.

His hands settle on your head, leading you in and out. He’s not forcing you, not fucking your throat, though part of you wishes he did. But he’s careful so far, loving; the real danger might come later.

For now, he lets you suck, kiss, lick and hum.

That is, up until the warning a minute later.

Out of his mind, he leads you back, and you let go with a plop, though reluctantly. His mind is whirring visibly, eyes blinking to refocus, and under his breath, he says, “Now some day… we need to do nothing but this all day.”

“Gladly,” you tell him, purposely collecting the spit under your lips, wiping it off with a thumb. He hisses, shakes his head.

“Seriously. I’ll have my cock buried in your throat until you’re hoarse…”

Well, shit.

“But today, I just…” He sneaks a look around the room. Initially, you don’t entirely understand, about to ask what he’s looking for, but then he asks, “My jacket is on the couch, I think.”

“Why?”

“Condoms.”

“Oh…”

Right. Right, maybe he’s not wrong. You are on the pill, but it might just be a reasonable idea to use protection for the first time.

“Hurry then,” you tell him, and he does.

It’s comical, in fact, the way he rushes out of the room; you hear the rustle of clothes from afar, and a couple seconds later, he’s back again, three condoms in his hands. You scoff.

“What?” he wonders. “I’m all for a good time. Might it last as long as possible.”

“I can’t believe you have condoms here at all.”

“It’s you, sweetheart. I’ve been carrying them around.” He shrugs a shoulder, his breath a whistle as he rips the package, rolling it rubber over his tall length. “Why? You gonna complain?”

“Me? No way. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” he mutters as he flings himself back into bed, forcing you to the back of the bed and mounting you until you find yourself under him.

His kiss is even filthier now, a taste so foreign yet your own. He is hot and keen above you, heavy as his quivering limbs struggle to keep him afloat. Your unclad, restless body is giving him a hard time, literally, but he’s mastering the challenge like a champ.

The doe eyes are long gone, profound hunger prominent in his predator gaze; you see the longing already, but you welcome it when he says between kisses, “If it was up to me… I’d ruin you right now.”

A shiver runs down your spine.

“What? Why do I sense a but coming?”

“Because you’re the priority. I want you to enjoy it and not just nut in a minute.”

“Fuck, will that happen?”

He tilts his head, a click of the tongue you want back on your skin. “I will try my best not to. But you are… so fucking sexy.”

“I have… your dick poking my stomach and it… it feels huge. And your muscles are pretty much caging in my face, Jungkook,” you say, a breathy explosion of your thoughts, “and those tits. Why are they bigger than mine?”

He laughs. “You were saying…?”

Right. You had a point to bring across. “Let’s not talk about me being sexy when you look like… this.”

“I look like what? Like myself? You enjoy that?”

“Anyone with fucking eyes enjoys looking at you. You’re so—”

“No,” he interrupts, a shake of his head; his hair is falling onto your neck, tickling you, “no, you are. So gorgeous. So hot, no matter how you look and what you wear.”

“And you still waited to do this.”

“Took more patience than I’ve ever needed in my life.”

You scoff, “You ass. Why did I have to suffer, just ‘cause you’re a tease? I’ll sing a song about how wrong you have done me.”

Another chuckle breaks out of him, but it’s curt, cut short by his teeth scraping over his lower lip. His eyes flit up and down, his mind buzzing at the feeling of your breasts, and he asks with insufficient brainpower, “No song… do you want me to shut you up already?”

“…You’re an idiot. Don’t do this to me.”

“Wouldn’t have yet anyway.” The yet drives you crazy. “Besides, I want to do so many other things to you.”

“Good. Good…”

“So what about the toe pics?”

Goddammit. This clown—

You want him to fuck you so bad. This is terrible; the waiting, the jerking of his cock, the way he sometimes shifts to hump into you, balls covering your pussy. Your legs are getting weaker as they wrap around him, your body inching towards his.

He’s so cruel.

You tell him, “Those, you can sell.”

“God, you’re hot.”

You don’t know if he’s even still hearing you; perhaps your humour is amusing, arousing him. You wonder if you could continue for long enough to make him come with words and provocations alone. Or maybe, he’ll do it himself.

Because his cock moves down to your pussy, the head stimulating your clit as he holds his weight above you. You grip his shoulders for support, trying not to crumble from this alone — this is the first time after all. Every touch feels dramatic to you.

“Any last words?” he inquires.

“Many.” 

“Yeah? Then I must be doing something wrong.”

Your voice, all strident and worn, rises in volume as you complain, “You’re not doing anything, that’s the problem!”

“Okay. One last question and I’ll give you what you want.”

“What.”

“Since the movies, huh? What’s a few more seconds?” He snickers when you breathe an, “I hate you,” following up with a, “So how did you feel back then?”

God, he’s a monster. A sadist. You answer, “Horny. Like now.”

Unmistakable smirk; he’s enjoying this thoroughly. Who would’ve thought that a cool-headed, gentle man like him could turn out so… dominant? Not that you’d dare to complain about it. You feel that if you did, he’d wreck your shit harder.

“Give me specifics,” he demands, and you groan in mild annoyance. Reach down to his cock, leading it to your pussy, but he, while gasping in surprise, pulls back. “Stop. Keep it short, though. I’m at my wit’s end, too.”

“Mmmh… how do I talk… if you keep playing with my cunt like it’s a bell?”

The laugh is sudden, broken by pants as he keeps himself together, but he doesn’t hesitate to emphasise his demand when he moves, his hand leading the head of his dick to your pussy before pulling back again.

“Jungkook—” you call.

“Talk, or this is all you’re getting.”

“Fuck you! Fuck me,” you say, pausing when he kisses you with passion, tongueing before he stops to wait, “Okay. Okay… you know how there are scenes in movies where people meet at the bar?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And… and they flirt with cringey dialogue. And they drink and then there’s a sudden cut to them making out at the literal door and then they’re suddenly in bed, bird’s view of the bed shaking, them fu—”

All the air escapes your lungs before you can finish your nonsensical thought. You don’t know where you were going with it and you won’t find out either.

Because mid-speech, he splits your pussy without a warning, without a word. He pushes in further, and you assume he’s bottomed out, so many curses on your tongue that you cannot let out.

Your mouth is open, and you’re gasping, your breath catching. You only realise that you’ve thrown your head back when you relax it again, meeting the sight of stiff jaw muscles and fires in his eyes.

Bit by bit, he slides in more, and while you appreciate the caution, you feel ready enough to take him in one fell swoop. 

You grit your teeth, your cheeks burning, and you inaudibly state, “You— you’re out of your fucking mind. You’ll get that back.”

“That I wanna see. Need to fight me for it,” he says, halting his ministrations to ask, “You good?”

“Not good enough. You make me wait so much, and then dismantle me just like that… I— fuck, Jeon Jungkook.”

“This is such a beautiful sound… say it again,” he orders, kissing your jaw.

“I hate you, Jeon Jungkook.”

His tongue peeks out of the corner of his lips, an entertained undertone in his voice, “That’s good enough. I promise I’ll make it good again.”

“How?”

“I’ll get you amazing croissants from my favourite bakery.”

You are with a manchild. An endearing, adorable, though beastly one, but a manchild either way. Hard to believe that this is the same guy who dives into philosophical conversations and doesn’t surface for a long time.

“Seriously?” you ask.

“Fun fact. It’s close to your work.”

“…This is it?”

He actually manages a dumbfounded, clueless expression, a top tier actor when he wonders, “You want more?”

“To make things good again? You could fuck me… like actually.”

“Are you complaining, you brat?”

His right veiny hand bolts to your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he moves your head left and right. A warning reverberates in his words that turns you into a titillated puddle. First and only time in your life that you’re ready to serve as somebody’s slave.

So you risk it, “What if I am?”

“Fuck around, find out.”

Great decision after all. Because he finally pulls out until only the tip remains inside and then dashes back in. Once or twice, kissing you as slowly as he’s fucking you. You sigh, moan, troubled because of the pace until you declare, “Fuck it. I will ride you.”

“But I want to look at you…”

“Get off of me,” you order, and you know he has half a thought to not listen; but you’re charming him.

So he laughs, obliges, leaning back until you’re pushing him onto his back. You keep him there, an admonition in your eyes, but he’s already too busy ogling you. And as he does, a quick idea forms in your mind — turning around, you execute it immediately.

Much to his disdain.

You hear him say, “Thought you were going to ride me?”

“Just you wait.”

You straddle his legs, allowing a full view. You grant his eyes to drift over your ass, satisfied when he grabs a handful, presses in, leading you to his cock. Looking between your legs, you see him grabbing the length pinned to his stomach, and slowly shift back to align with it.

He must be loving the sight. The sounds are telling, heavy, guttural when you sink down on him, not stopping until he’s buried head to hilt. And you make sure to go slowly at first, so he can wallow in the slickness that your pussy covers his member in.

And how you’re wrapped around him, your ass constantly meeting his pelvis, hips circling. Your eyes roll back into your skull each time you take him all in, and your head falls back whenever his hand touches up and down your body, soft on your back and then aggressive on your ass.

“Fuck, I am losing it, bug,” you hear, a brief, smug smile gracing your face before your mouth parts again.

You’re satisfied. He isn’t just yet.

Because no matter how infinite his prior teasing seemed, he doesn’t seem too eager to let you do the same to him. Because as you fuck him on, he soon gets sick of your hidden face, pushing himself off the mattress until his chest is glued to your back.

A hand suddenly wraps around your neck, not too harsh but certainly unexpected. His teeth start nibbling at your ear, and he repositions only slightly until he can thrust into you from below.

You reckon it’s not easy; he’s out of breath. But he still does it with such vigour, determination and strength that you barely notice how tiring it must be for him.

The hand on your neck turns your head until your lips meet, and he kisses you hard, the tongue impatient. A hand grabs your tits and kneads them, keeping your torso in place before he removes his arms entirely.

Not to torment you this time; but to push your body forward. You fall onto all fours, detaching from him; but he’s quick as his knees hit the mattress, nearing your weak legs before he pushes them together.

Strong fingers dig into your ass, and you yelp; louder when he rams himself in, an effortless motion. He doesn’t wait to pound into you this time. He’s unmasking himself, letting restraint go. Holds onto your hips, keeps you in place — but it doesn’t work all the time.

You bolt forward on the bed, your mind boggled as he switches up the pace. Fast first, then slower; tiny pauses follow before he starts wreaking havoc again.

His lips move along your back until he can barely hold the weight anymore. Your knees shake, equally feeble, and when you fall onto the sheets with him in tow, he uses the new position to try something new.

Something dizzying again. Grabs your wrists, relocates them above your head. He’s both relentless and sweet somehow — his kisses are worlds apart from how he’s tearing you open. You can’t help but laugh; the satisfied, blissful kind.

You gasp, tell him, “Holy sh-shit… you’re… not as sweet as I thought.”

His laugh is breathy and broken, and he kisses your temple before he asks, “Am I not? Damn…”

“Not just a nerd… but merciless, too.”

“Only… only with you. You make me spiral.”

He brings your wrists together, locking them in one of his large hands and sneaks the other between you and the mattress. It takes a moment to seek out what he’s longing for, but when he finds your clit and starts fumbling with it, you turn wild.

“Oh my God—”

“He can’t help you now either.” His thrusts are slower now, calculated. “So just let go, yes?”

Your legs are shaking, angling as his cock penetrates you deeper, hitting just the right spot. Jungkook understands that stimulation isn’t merely about pace but about deliberate jolts, too. He proves it immediately.

With how attentively he listens to you, panting, fingers keeping a rhythm. 

In that sense, you’re not surprised when your walls start narrowing, rogue waves approaching until they hit the shore and you drown. He keeps the pace as you ride out the high, positively delighted as you hear him chuckle.

You can’t speak properly, your voice hoarse as you ask, “What?”

“I just. I wish I could do this all the time.”

This is really it — you can’t talk right now. Your body is loud enough; you can’t yell over it because you won’t even be able to hear yourself. So you just listen.

To his huffs when he lets go of your hands, waiting for a bit longer before he resumes fucking you again. You whimper, slightly overstimulated already, call his name — and he uses the moment to fulfill a fantasy you’re sure he’s held veiled for a while.

Because he slaps a hand over your mouth, jokes, “There we go.”

You scoff under the palm, but it sounds more like a pathetic wheeze.

Another strange sound follows when Jungkook decides that he has crushed you for long enough, wrapping an arm around your tits as leverage. Then, he moves the two of you to your sides, your ass pressed to his tummy.

He raises your left leg and drapes it around his own, spreading you wide to pump into you diligently. You wish you had a mirror standing in front of this side of the bed; you’d be able to watch the thick, creamed length pushing in and pulling out.

Would see his eyes, all foggy and fucked out, mouth open against your ear, staggered breathing into it. Or how he pinches your nipples, how you bring your arm back to his head, feeling for his lips.

The kiss is sloppy and sinful, and you groan into it when he slows down to drive the entirety of his cock into you. How can he reach so deep?

You shut your eyes tight, let your head fall to bury your mouth in his arm.

And then, amidst the insatiable gluttony, he says, “I think I’m… about to come, too, but I… I want more.”

More? Holy crap.

“Are you… kidding?” you clap back. “Your stamina is…”

He snickers, answers, “Well, thank fuck. Never doubted I’d fuck you well, though. Know why?”

“Huh?”

“Because it’s you. No other way… to react to you. Like, shit, I… thought about this. A lot—”

“...Insane. Insane.”

Nobody can blame you for losing your train of thoughts. This is all you can really mutter right now; certainly not a single coherent chain of sentences. He’ll have to do with this, and you’ll gladly listen.

Like when he confesses, “No, I would. All the things I’d do to you… for you. The way I’d touch you. Gotta have the entire building hear you.”

For you.

Another shiver along your spine, ironically co-existing with your boiling blood. The influx of emotions seems misplaced at first; feelings and physical symptoms mix, but you’re not the least surprised by any of it.

The rush of affection and adrenaline is just right. Because.

“Fuck, you have a hold on me,” he tells you, pecks all over your neck, “you are so fucking sexy.”

Yes… because he makes you feel that way.

“Still just so—” he starts, pulling you in tighter until it feels more like an embrace than anything. You turn to look at him. He’s sweat-soaked and warm, orbiting around you. “Still surprised I didn’t come the second you touched me.”

“How are you still…”

“I’m trying so hard to hold on.”

“Jungkook…”

You call his name so sweetly that you damage half his brain. Your eyes are looking up into his, your voice quiet and pure, no matter the circumstances. His answer is just as delicate as his fingers raise your chin, “Yes, baby.”

The rush of affection and adrenaline is just right, because—

“…I love you.”

And the movements stop entirely.

You wonder whether you’ve said something wrong, but his gaze suggests otherwise. The sentiment is too fiery and present to mean anything but reciprocated adoration. You know it the moment you say it.

And he proves it when he shakes his head and declares, “No… this won’t do. I need to see you.”

He is… but you know exactly what he’s talking about.

So you know to turn around before he can pin you to the bed, and once he’s back to the initial position and glancing deep into your heart’s core, you see each of his defences down. Not that he has that many when it comes to you.

But right now, he looks as vulnerable as someone ever could.

If possible, he’s harder now, fully immersed; you don’t assume it’ll take much longer. Because his balls are already firm when you reach for them, fondle them. And when you tug him in to kiss him, he lets out a sound that’s new to you.

A weak mewl, a moan that’s somehow both lewd and sweet. He submerges his face in your neck, arms wrapping around your body again. And as he sinks back in, filling your every inch for the last time tonight, he whispers—

“I love you, too. So much.”

He doesn’t stop now; keeps the speed. Not too fast, not too ruthless. The kisses to your shoulder and your face are constant as he compliments between each one, “You are beautiful. And an insane human being. In the best fucking way.”

“Kookie…”

“No,” he disputes, not sure what; he’s a goner, much like you, “I’m yours. I want to be.”

“You are.”

“Fuck, I’m… I can’t.”

His voice is strained, his hips stutter. He can’t hold himself back, is what he means. Your pussy aches, but you don’t care. You’d watch him chase reprieve all day if you could.

“It’s okay,” you assure, and that suffices for him.

He jerks, all jittery, and then lets go. You wish you could feel him filling you up. Could actually keep him inside, hot and abundant, let him watch as the liquid streams out of you. Fuck, fuck…

The way he’s looking at you. The thick, furrowed eyebrows and the gap between his lips. The shiny skin and skilled hands on your face. Fingers brushing back your damp hair before his face falls back into your neck.

Despite all the mess, you feel at peace. The control and harmony between him and you is indescribable, somewhat beyond belief.

And when he’s done, he emerges, a tender smile enlarging your heart as he says, “I didn’t expect that.”

“…That we’d fuck?”

“No. You saw me come in prepared,” he says, and you laugh, “no. That you’d tell me you love me.”

“Well… I do, handsome.” Cloud seven carries you to Heaven when he brings your knuckles to his lips, kisses one by one. You add, “Why did you not expect it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to make assumptions.”

“Do you never feel that I do?”

“Now that you say it… the permanent banter should’ve revealed as much.”

“Exactly.”

You titter, pause, take a moment to look at him; nothing else. But then curiosity gets the better of you and you ask, “What about you? Did you expect yourself to say it?”

“Expect it? I don’t need to expect anything I know to be true.”

“Right… Right. You’ll be the end of me.”

He shrugs a shoulder, still melting into you, hesitant to move at all. Tells you, “You’re stuck with me. So I better be the end.”

“I want you to be.”

“Good… me too, love.”

You lie there in the dimming light, quiet settling around you like a blanket. His length softens inside you, and given the condom, he should probably let go soon — but he only does once his breathing slows enough.

As he sits up, leaving you cold and open and finally discarding the full condom, he murmurs, “What now?”

You hum. “Shower?”

“Would it be evil of me to suggest we go another round?”

You can’t suppress the laugh. “Yes. I am sore as hell because of you.”

“Okay, okay… I’ll let it slide this time. Not that I can’t get it any other time I want to.”

“Not wrong.”

“What do you think of… the bakery?”

“We could just stay here, too,” you say, brushing your foot against his. “Put something on. Wait till we get hungry.”

He cracks his neck; smiles at the ceiling. “I’ll get hungry in no time, gorgeous, believe me.”

You inhale all the air in the room. Shit.

“You dirty talk now,” you jest, “but you’d fall asleep half an hour into a movie.”

“Shut up.”

You sift through options with the lazy comfort of people who feel no smidge of stress, no rush, exchanging small glances and laughter and half-baked suggestions until he finally pats your thigh and says, “Okay. Shower first.”

“And then bakery,” you add.

“And dinner after.”

“Look at us,” you tease, “functioning adults.”

“Barely. Not after today. Maybe half-functioning adults who love each other.”

You rise with a wide, goofy, school girl smile; still warm from each other, still soft around the edges. He half carries you to the bathroom, stealing kisses on the short journey to the shower. It occurs to you that sometimes, things can truly feel within one’s control.

And for years, they will; until they won’t.

Because it takes a while for them to spiral out of control.

The utopia you built, the clouds you made your mattress — all of it would crack and dissipate soon. Every inch of your soul encased this relationship, him and you, but the second the rosy, bubbly opening act closed, you found yourself in a nightmare.

Your apartment has changed. It’s still the same, except that months must have passed, because you remember that it looked different when you were a sophomore. At this point, you’re already a senior.

Jungkook has moved in with you. Once months passed, he found a safe home on the bed next to you, sharing positively everything he could with you. His time, his thoughts, the space. He’s done some cosy things with your place; you like the scent of his cooking, the diffuser and the quiet clicking noise of his controller when he games before sleep.

But as the state of the apartment improves, the two of you wither.

Girls’ night today.

Either the mirror is particularly flattering to you tonight or you have actually managed to doll yourself up in time, with a result you are one hundred percent satisfied with. You twirl once, flattening the dress just in case, wide awake and prepared for  long-lasting hours.

Jungkook is texting a friend he’s known for a bit. Met him at some work-related dinner party a few months back, and they clicked at least enough to spend nights Overwatch-ing in front of the monitor. They aren’t in touch too much, but they find company in each other when you do your own stuff.

Tapping the screen, he looks up briefly when you announce, “I’ll be going then.”

You round the couch to where he lays cross-legged, pinning your bag back to your hips as you lean down and peck his lips. Big, round eyes stare up at you, peeking through his permed bangs, and he asks, “When are you coming back?”

“Hmm… I can’t say yet. But you don’t need to stay up.”

“I’ll worry, though.”

“Oh, it’s okay. We usually carpool.”

He waits, hesitates. “Shall I pick you up somewhere?”

In the beginning, you thought of his worries as sweet and his offers as disarmingly chivalrous. And any other day, you’d say yes, too — but over time, you have learned that Jungkook is overly paranoid. Sometimes, his concerns concern you in return, which saps some of the fun out of the night.

He has picked you up many times before; but today, you tell him, “It’s okay. Really, you can go to sleep.”

“Let me wait for the cab downstairs at least. I can’t sleep otherwise, and it brings me a sense of relief, too.”

Okay…

You know that he cares — if you rejected each of his offers, he’d only grow agitated, nervous. So you lift the left arm a little, then let it fall again, shrugging before you sigh and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Good — it brings a tender, small smile to his face. “See you, babe.”

And that’s where this is supposed to end.

You’re supposed to return drunk and joke around with him in the bathtub. You should be dropping the latest tea and watch his eyes expand, no matter how often he claims to be unaffected by drama.

And then, you’re supposed to fall into a slumber, sleep like a rock and wake up to another tender Sunday morning. Bright and new and hopeful.

But the night plays out differently.

Somewhere inside, you know you’re not truly here, that this is only a replay of a done deed. The dream becomes more defined, the more you think about it, but you still cannot reshoot this very scene as they do in movies — and yet, you hope for a different outcome.

Jungkook picks you up the way he promised. Lets you wrap your arm around his neck, your body light, pushing into his. You’re tipsy, foggy-brained, enthusiastic as he closes the apartment door and stalely asks, “How was it?”

You don’t notice the tone at first; the dopamine blends out the grey tints of the world for now and focuses on the fairy lights in your living room. He hung them up there… you love them so much, you really do.

Just a little less than you love him; but he, in return, does not seem amused. It’s not his voice that betrays him, but rather the humourless, solemn expression he sports. His lips form a thin line and his eyes are glazed, crestfallen.

But you simper, try to lighten the mood. Maybe he’s just tired.

“It was great. Sooo fun,” you let him know, fingers in his hair, “a lot of stuff I need to tell you.”

“Tomorrow. Get some sleep now.”

“But… it’s extremely interesting.”

But he only repeats, “Tomorrow.”

You scowl. You leave his hair be, separating from him in wordless embarrassment and beeline to the bathroom. A hand on your hoop earring, you swallow, throwing a look back to where he slumps onto the couch.

“Why aren’t you going to bed? I’m here now,” you argue, laughing a little.

“Wanna make sure you’re okay.”

You wait. Nothing more comes; his attitude doesn’t change. So you follow up with, “…Okay. What did you do tonight?”

“Nothing. Gamed a bit. What else can I do, really?”

Your frown deepens, forehead muscles stiff. The tension sobers you up; you halt mid-motion. Turning around entirely, you lean against the living room doorframe and spit, “Okay, uh. Is everything okay?”

His answers are clipped.

“Yeah.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

There’s a curt pause, words hanging in the air, and you see the gears in his head turn, an explanation slowly being sculpted. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this upset before — the lonely, overthinking type, not quite the raging one.

His voice turns significantly softer, but there is no use in tempering the unease anymore — his declaration easily evokes new guilt anyway.

“You didn’t message me once.”

You don’t respond right away. You don’t know how to. In truth, you’re not even sure he said what he said, or why what he said might be… bad at all. Are you stupid or drunk… or both? You can’t make heads or tails of this.

Your unfiltered brain nearly blurts a gutsy, “And?” But you decide to draw from your empathic yet rational vein, as cautious as he is. You admit, “I didn’t realise I needed to.”

“No, just… a Hi or How are you or I miss you. Just anything, I guess.”

Fuck… what?

You’ve seen such skits on social media. Discussions on relationship issues, insecurities that tug one farther from goals and the ease that should be present between couples. This is not a particularly healthy sign.

“I was with my friends, Kook,” you try to pacify, “we don’t use our phones at the table. It was a girls’ night.”

“I text you when I go out.”

…What? When?

“You don’t go out often.” It is in no shape or form meant to be an attack. It’s true; Jungkook enjoys a change of scenery from the apartment, just not necessarily with people around. He’s a gym rat, a homebody. An introvert. “And also, it’d be okay if you didn’t text me, because I want you to enjoy yourself. Baby…”

You push yourself off the wall, your feet too light and unsteady, but you manage to get where he sits. With a playful groan, you make yourself comfortable on his lap, and though slightly reluctant, he lets you anyway. Looks up at you with an ache you cannot comprehend.

How come that he’s saying this now? You’ve been together for two and a half years.

Or has he gotten truly comfortable just now? Were the two of you too in love, too tactful about everything because it was all so… new?

Has the falling stopped for him? Where does he really stand right now?

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” you wonder, a hand on your boyfriend’s cheek. The skin still feels the same, but the person doesn’t. All these years — this is a first. “I didn’t realise this could become a reason to fight.”

He quickly defends, “I’m not fighting.”

“But you’re disappointed.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I am.”

You want to say childish. But you’re trying to be patient with him, to understand him. If you snap, he’ll snap, and what good does that do?

“Okay, then let’s talk about it. I am sorry that you feel the way you feel.”

You hiccup for a second, closing your eyes and opening them again right away. You clear your head; looking at him, it doesn’t take much to do so. He woke you. There’s no possibility for sleep just yet.

He shakes his head. “But you’re drunk.”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I came in like this, but… I want to talk about this.”

His eyes pause on you. You’re pouting a little, earnest and concerned, in a determined fight to win him back for the night. The guilt backfires as he tells you, “Don’t apologise.”

“What can I do then? What’s up?” You exhale, wipe back the left side of his bangs. His dark, sparkless pupils are still innocent, pure, but riddled with something that’s much bigger than you. “Baby. I don’t know you like this.”

“…How do you know me then?”

His words are a whisper; still not a strike, still not aggressive. Just… quietly disheartened. You put your hands on his shoulder, slowly rubbing as you count, “You are happy. Witty. Kind. These things never bother you.”

A shoulder shrugs under your touch.

“Maybe they do bother me and I just never had the chance or the courage to express it.”

Wow… this is… a statement.

“A chance?”

…What does a chance mean? Were you hindering him? Or was he holding back for your sake? This is not how love is supposed to grow.

You lean back a little, muttering, confused, “So… I should worry about your feelings like this each time I go out?”

Perhaps it’s clicking now. Perhaps he’s understanding the underlying ridiculous nature of his words, because he clicks his tongue, softly shoving you off his lap, and says, “No… No, forget it.”

You stand in front of him like some immobile stick figure, staring down as he manspreads on the couch, face in his hands. This is insane. Not a reason to argue in a million years. Is this what your friends mean when they mention a boyfriend’s permission or his doubts?

But Jungkook isn’t like that.

After a minute, just as the discouragement increases, you chew on your lower lip, balancing on one leg and then declare, “I’ll go shower.”

He doesn’t hold you back when you stomp away, and you don’t look back. The water is hot, inflames your soul and frees your brain. You rethink the conversation, shake your head at the bits you never hoped for in a relationship.

God. Communication is supposed to nurture a relationship, not… insecurities.

But as you finish with an ice-cold switch, cooling down each nerve, new motivation washes over you. This is stupid with two O’s, and you cannot conclude the night like this.

You dry yourself up. Walk out with words on your tongue that might mend this. When you come back, he is still sitting where you left him minutes ago, but he’s glued to the back of the couch, slouching. Palms on his eyebrows, rubbing.

He hears you when you return and shoots to his feet like a bullet. The rapid motion makes you flinch and softens him; for a moment, you think he’ll freeze at the spot and then dash past you and to bed.

But he opens his arms. Closes the distance to you, wraps you in. Your hair is damp, free from hair spray and dirt, wetting his shirt as he nuzzles you into him. The words stuck in your throat scatter until you forget about them, and instead, he speaks—

“I am sorry. I…”

His chest vibrates, and so does your brain. You are sleepy all of a sudden, eased by the reappearance of the man you actually know. You close your eyes and listen on.

“I think I am not used to having somebody around, and maybe I’ve become too attached to you. I… I didn’t consider myself the dependent boyfriend, but… maybe I am and maybe I need to work on it.”

You breathe in. More regret settles in. Confusion, too.

Work on it…

So the reason he flipped wasn’t because of the usual toxicity you have heard about, was it? Not the type that demands permission from him or requires a status update every other minute. He doesn’t want to lock you in, but rather let himself out.

It is him, not you.

Or maybe you are telling yourself all that because your love reaches an abyssal depth. Maybe it’s becoming just as dark, too.

No… probably not.

You aren’t blind to his issues; you love him, but you won’t lie. So you admit, “If you truly are dependent then… you should work on it, Kook. I’ll be here.”

“Me too. I’m here for you, too. I am so sorry.” His breath trembles, uneven. He’s suppressing tears. “I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“It’s okay, Kookie. I promise I am here.”

He is sorry; as the memory begins to depart, you feel that he is sorry.

Not every apology undoes a mistake, but you know he means it. Jungkook has never been in an actual relationship before. Situationships hurt and casual friendships that could’ve turned into more never did, some reason or another.

You two seem to fit together, so it is easier to love and adore. Right? But… now you catch yourself wondering whether you being a match or not was, is, ever will be the issue between the two of you.

Because if you — truly you, not this unaware past self — dig deep enough, realise what followed after, you know. You know that you were just convincing yourself that his personal problems were solvable.

Which doesn’t mean he is wrong believing in redemption. But you should’ve walked away far earlier.

Because it happens again.

A plethora of mistakes that stem from deeply rooted insecurities do not just go away. Human beings are fragile; apologies sometimes only do so much before one returns to the old ways.

Jungkook loses half his mind whenever you walk out for the night, and then you fight about it. Of course your brain would choose these memories to search for that final moment. 

It can’t even remember the previous one, but judging by these flashing pictures, you know your system is working at a high pace. Deleting the upcoming fights, the irritation he shows, the voices gaining on volume each time.

The self-pity, the guilt-tripping. You give in and apologise, and then he apologises, and from some point on, you fear going out without him at all.

The exasperation remains and heightens, and once your mind settles on the final proper fight, you start hearing some dialogue again. The fast-forwarding stops.

“You can’t make your doubts my problem for the rest of our lives,” you’re saying, “you need to change this or I don’t know how we’re supposed to keep living through this every time.”

By now you’ve learned that he doesn’t need to curb his temper, but rein in his abandonment issues. But he’s not able to — and you hate being blamed constantly.

“Then don’t live through it,” he fights, as loud as you — this is different from the tipsy, somewhat peaceful argument you had three months ago. He points to the door. “Just go then.”

The blood in your face boils, your jaw stiffening. You breathe out like a bull and then curse, “What the fuck, Jungkook? I’m not out fucking somebody, I’m with friends.”

“We can go out, too.”

“Are you fucking jealous of my girlfriends? We do stuff all the time!”

“Yeah, sure, say it like I’m forcing you.”

The gaslighting takes up a new level. You’re aware. You’re not a psychology student the way Jungkook wished to be half a dozen times, but you can read a situation.

You argue, “No, you’re not forcing me to go on dates. But to be somebody who I am not. To worry about things I never worried about. I can’t fucking do this.”

This is… the first time you have bared your thoughts like this. You are gentle, you swear you are; but there is this headspace you have found yourself trapped in lately. A limit you have reached. How long can you feign understanding until you run dry of it, too?

You guess you have struck a nerve. 

Just the way your words surprised you — not that you thought them, but that you dared to verbalise them —, they prick him just the same. His stare falls to the ground, lips parted, button nose in the way.

You melt each time. This is the problem. You always surrender.

Your heart softens as you step in, bringing his hand into yours. Vexation still resonates in your voice but so does affection as you explain, “Look… I get what you have been through. You aren’t used to somebody sticking around, but— I promised I would.”

You swallow and lick your lip, weak by the lashes moving as he blinks. Fuck…

“Jungkook,” you call; he meets your eyes, “it’d be great if you trusted me.”

Silver lines your eyelids, and you sniffle, rapidly blink the tears away. He stares. A second and two, and after around half a minute, he mumbles, “I… I’m not doing this on purpose.”

“I know… I know. But it’s hurting me.”

You know Jungkook as somebody usually so bright. Intelligent and snappy, wit one of his main strengths. He likes to be philosophical. Whatever else you can still remember, you know his stance on good and bad people.

Perhaps this is what he implies whenever he assures that you, or he, are good because neither of you identify with the evil of the world. But… one doesn’t always discern the fine line.

You don’t know what you are, ultimately. You know what he isn’t.

You tell him, “You’re not a bad person, Jungkook. You need to work on yourself, on these issues, just… because. Baby, I am not your permanent anchor. I want to be here with and for you, but you need to be your own person, too.”

“I…”

“This here did change me. It isn’t me…” You grasp his hands tighter. “I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want to lose myself either. Do you get what I mean?”

But Jungkook only catches one real statement, as if in trance and circling around the words he picks out, “I’m making you lose yourself.”

“Just… everything. Not just you.”

You don’t know what everything is. He is everything. But you don’t want to make matters worse. He still seems to understand.

Repeats, “I am sorry.”

You shake your head. “Look at me,” your hands float up to his face, lift it and hold it in place. “I love you. Please just trust me.”

His words are barely more than a whisper. Sweet and frail. “I trust you… I trust you.”

It sounds sincere. You want to believe it. You can’t force anything more out of him and can’t make yourself believe otherwise, so you choose to hold onto this. A million fights need to show any ounce of change… at some point.

Maybe this one will. You don’t know. But you do know.

You decide not to care; bask in the moment you won’t get back. Let the memory play as you find yourself back in the sheets with him, moaning I love yous and I am sorrys.

And as the room grows dimmer, he breathes the admissions back to you — but the distance is already established; and you should’ve known.

The further you progress, the less you know who Jeon Jungkook was as a person.

Well, rather…

You don’t lose sight of who he truly was, not in the sense that you forget about his existence just yet. But by now, you don’t know what he enjoys. Don’t know how you met. Don’t remember the dates you went on or what you mostly did when you spent weekends at the apartment.

You do know when you got together and when you felt the most in love with him, and you know how you broke up.

You think that most of what you know about him or experienced with him is already gone. You stop at the major memories and skip-remove the rest. There were probably a billion pictures you flipped through.

Three years, right? Three years is a long time.

Will it hurt your brain once you’re done?

You don’t know.

But what you are fully aware of is another pain, stacked behind your ribcage; most intense right the hell now.

Jungkook is distanced; how long has it been since your problems began? You can’t say. But there must be some depth to it, because he looks dejected, his cheeks hollow as he approaches you on the couch.

As of what you can currently tell, you thought the two of you were okay again. You know he isn’t doing particularly well, so the fights must have been heavy — but the you from back then thinks that he was reflecting. Waiting for things to blow over.

But you only realise what his expressions and the energy-lacking movements really mean when he kneels in front of you, bringing a concerned look to your face. He touches your knee and you want to ask what’s wrong. But then he says—

“I think I should leave.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting for him to walk out on such a cold January afternoon. “Where to?”

He waits. The way he struggles… the poignant pain in his eyes… and the reluctance in his words.

You understand; know what it is before he says it.

“This… us… we should stop.”

For a good, prolonged moment, you are perplexed. You must have misheard. Or he is pranking you, playing out one of his dumb jokes. But… but in hindsight, you feared, knew…

This was coming.

You utter, “…What?”

“I’m just. I’m ruining it. I don’t want you to lose yourself.”

Your heart knows that he is right. You know you are merely half of who you should be, need to be. The confessions buried in your heart might not be too buried after all… you must have told him before.

Because just like you, he knows he’s right, too. Took it to heart, didn’t he…

And yet…

“Jungkook, wha—”

“Please listen, I… I thought about this for a long time.”

You touch his arms and he shifts closer, knees falling to the ground to settle. The two of you might stay right here for a while. He can’t rush this. You can’t let this happen.

Desperately, you try again, “Jungkook—”

“You know what’s the worst part? I can feel myself turning into someone I don’t even like and you… you keep shrinking to make space for me.”

“That’s not true, I’m just trying to help—”

“It is true,” he interrupts again, “I know you’re trying to help, but… I think that’s the problem, too. You shouldn’t have to keep fixing me or changing yourself, so everything fits. No, listen,” he lifts a hand when you try to argue in between. Your vision starts to blur. “Every time I worry, you pull yourself smaller, so I don’t fall apart. I see you being more careful.”

“Stop. What are you talking about?”

You know what he’s talking about. But the panic is growing and consuming you, and he isn’t considering it, all depleted and affected by his own beliefs.

A tear travels down your cheek, and he wipes it off, waits before he talks on. Your chest constricts, and you don’t know whether there’s enough dry space on his palms to truly catch what’s to come.

Your upper body curls, and you lean forward, crushing his hand as you echo, “Please?”

“You don’t get it. I can’t keep taking pieces of you just so I can feel whole. Okay?”

“So… so what are you saying…?”

“That… I need to figure myself out before I make those around me disappear completely.” His voice quietens, as if he’s forcing himself to let the words out at all. “I can’t do this to someone like you. I love you.”

His eyes are drenched in tears when he looks up. The spark in them is still present, but this time, it’s not joy that birthed it.

“But if… if I stay like this,” he stutters, “I’ll end up resenting myself and you’ll end up resenting me, too.”

You know, so undeniably know that he is right. There is not an ounce of a lie in his admissions, even if some piece of you might want to combat it. Of course you want to — because no matter how ridiculous your fights and problems are, you’d rather keep them and him than drown in the silence.

You know this pattern.

Holding onto a rope that cuts your skin, aware that you need to let go, yet imprisoned in the illusion that if you fight for long enough, the rope will turn to silk. You want to be happy — but you want him to stay, too.

There is no way to do both. But you don’t want him to leave. You don’t fucking want to.

Breathing becomes harder, your throat tightening and your limbs falling into an uncontrolled tremble. Your voice is as cracked and raw as it can get, and you more so stammer than you talk, “No, I— l-let’s work on this, ple-ease, I’m— I don’t want to fucking lose y—”

“You won’t lose me… I hope to stay a part of you.” He smiles, but it doesn’t improve anything; in fact, you come undone, your sobs louder, frenzied. “But we won’t work like this, you— you deserve to breathe. Baby, shh… please, sweetheart—”

No, you can’t. Fuck, you might pass out.

You close your eyes, seek the oxygen for your chest. It barely helps, but you hear him encourage you, counting, instructing you to inhale, exhale. A hand touches your cheek. Your heartbeat thumps unrestrained.

Your world view will change now, won’t it? It will change along with your idea of love, of joy, of chaos and of silence. All this, only for his touch to remain the same.

Because as his fingertips run along your cheekbones and your temple, you know this damn touch is right, if not everything else. You do not have the faintest about the moments you shared, but, in the deepest parts of yourself, you just know that this is how he’s always touched you and always loved you and that this hurts like a bitch.

You can barely breathe; part of your brain houses a blaring alarm, bright red and loud, and you fear you might slip into near-hysteria. How does one stop this? And how will you prevent every other breakdown once he’s gone?

How…

You shake your head. Instinct leads you on, lets his hand electrify you. His eyes are yearning, pained, already singing an entire ballad on the affection he inhabits and the prospect of having to keep it on from this day on.

Where will any of you let any of this out? Where or who will you put all your love into? Is there anybody even out there except him?

What… why…

This shouldn’t be up for discussion. Him leaving, him staying. You’re supposed to figure it out…

You shake your head again. Beg once more, nothing more than a quiet whisper. You sniffle, let the tears drench your face, and when his scent nears too much and you’re reminded that, in a moment, it’ll be gone, you break.

You lean in, grab his arm, steering him towards you until your lips meet his. For a tiny moment, the impact is clear; for just a second, he stays there, as if it’s a reflex, but the very next instance… he pulls back.

He holds you at arm’s length, well aware that none of you will be capable of letting go or forgetting or accepting the situation. But his eyes double-cross him — you don’t see an iota of actual bravery or restraint in them. The arm pushing you away is weak, as if wanting to be shoved away.

And then, he does so himself.

He gives you a second to react, and when he sees you hunger for him, all sorrow and longing and madness, his hands tug your face in. The kiss is more fierce, harder now. For a split moment, you wonder whether the force of his grip will lead you down the couch, onto the carpet.

But instead, he goes in with all he can, pushes you up the sofa again and says, “Lay down.”

You do. You’ll do anything today. Let him kiss your lips, your neck, your tits. Will easily let him undress you and melt with you, so fast and so hot that you almost imagine him keeping you whole.

Your million pieces don’t feel the ache, just for now as his kisses turn fervent. All tongue and bite, humping and shifting, moaning and whimpering into your skin. He holds you close, preparation brief as he slides into you so effortlessly.

You don’t talk much. Only glances; only pleas. Skin slapping against skin, teeth scraping the mounds of your breasts, your shoulders. He fucks you until you can breathe even harder; flips you, turns you, nails digging into your hips as he holds you on top of him.

He lets go and you let go, and you know for sure that nothing the two of you ever did must have felt this intense before. Nothing hurt this much before, either. It’s cruel, this pain of loving somebody for the last time.

Sometimes, he whispers, “More. More—”

And you breathe, “I… I need you, harder.”

He listens. You cry into the kisses, let him take over, bury your mouth in his shoulder to muffle your whimpers. And he hammers into you, out of you, and you vividly feel the goosebumps all across; all the extra love; the speed at which you fall apart.

You feel each movement, each friction, each thrust actively.

You can’t name this sudden heightened emotion, but it feels familiar to you. The insanity of it, the volume of your wails, how you call his name. The way you feel him, hold him, want him to wreck you.

There is a name for it.

As you near the end, all he declares is, “I love you. Fuck, I love you so much…”

And you implore, “Then don’t leave, just don’t—”

He doesn’t listen this time.

As he catches his breath above you, the stare is painfully resolute. Those dark orbs are expressive, you think; they reveal much more than he is allowing. Because he is steadfast in his decision, and though weak, he will not stray.

You see that in his eyes, too. Even though he’s still holding you; and even though he is still peppering kisses on your face.

You try a last time.

“Please don’t go.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows kiss. You let your head drop to the side, a tear trailing down your temple. When you inhale, your breath is shaky. And a heartbeat later, he gets up. Pulls out, leaves you empty, head to toe.

You don’t cry much. But the sobbing won’t stop. This is fucking shattering you.

“Jungkook… Kookie, please…” you whisper. You sound more hopeless now, the syllable barely a sound; more a puff of a breath.

He inhales so deeply; dread befalls you that he might turn and yell at you, drill into your brain how right he thinks he is. But though his movements are as fast as you anticipated, his touch is soft. Feathers when he stoops to where you sit, your face suddenly back between his hands.

“I love you,” he declares, his gravelly voice much clearer than yours, though just as hurt, trembling, “I fucking love you. You are the best thing to happen to me and the best thing that’ll ever happen to somebody else.”

The mention of a potential stranger digs a sword through your heart, and you nearly buckle, your head too weak to stay tall on top of your torso. You want to curl in, press a hand to your chest.

He doesn’t let you. His palms hold you firmly. He continues, echoes like a prayer, “I love you. I love you so, so fucking much, it hurts.”

And all you can incessantly repeat is, “Please…”

Your constant implorations fall on deaf ears; or at least, on unreasonable ears. He hears your sounds, but he doesn’t stray from his too firm, too rash beliefs. Or perhaps, he is perfectly aware and his decision perfectly sane, and you’re the one failing to make sense of this whole… thing.

But you keep pleading while he keeps nodding, helping you get dressed. You’re like a child, numb and crying, hands clamped together and knuckles white. You let him lead your limbs into your warm pajamas; except, everything feels cold.

When he kisses your forehead and his lips leave an invisible mark on your skin, it still feels icy. You feel you might vomit when you, syllable after syllable, manage to spit, “So you’re just… just leaving?”

He never offers reprieve.

“I don’t want to,” he says, “but I… have to. If I stay, I will panic and you’ll aid me, because it’s who you are. You love in such a way, just so…”

His eyes are glassy, a single tear rolling down. Sometimes, you think he might get through this rather unscathed, but then he betrays his heart, hiccups, the lower lip restless.

“You love selflessly,” he continues, as if it’s a superpower, a gift rather than the insult you perceive it as right now, “but I’ll fuck up… and you’ll stop loving me for good.”

The hum of the streets outside fills the space between you. You’re a wet mess, a hot face and tangled hair. Your cries fall quieter and the world’s noises amplify. But with that, the emptiness starts its expansion, too.

When you were a teenager, you once read that as a way of dealing with pain, the body often shuts down. Falls unconscious, numbs you momentarily. You recall Dr. Choi telling you the same.

As your inner system fails and the room blurs, you know it’s shutting down, too, but… you don’t lose consciousness. It’d be easier if you did, but you don’t.

You’re awake, aware, every single fibre burning and frozen. You don’t quite recognise your own, now lower voice when you say, “I believed we could make it work.”

Jungkook’s eyes stay glued on you. The more you say, the clearer his pain becomes. And so do messages, without a motion of his lips, but they’re clear to you. He’s saying that you’ve always believed; that you did for the both of you. That he won’t be the reason you stop believing in anything at all.

As he breaks the gaze, stare floating down to his feet, you see the damp lashes. The soft cheeks, the full lips. The way they’re turned down a friction of an inch. Regardless of what you might remember or not, each inch of your body knows just how much you’ve loved all these little pieces of him over the years.

And he’s taking them away from you. Keeping himself to himself. If you love selflessly, he loves selfishly. You denounce such a balance.

You try to say something, but the words have ceased for good. The chaos that your brain endured over the last half an hour ebbs down to complete quiet, one that ironically resembles disquiet to its core.

As you stay mute, he hesitates. All you can do is look up at him. You watch him lean into you, just close enough that you can feel his breath. It’s not a kiss, just a pause; fingers find your hair. 

And then, he doesn’t utter a goodbye, but something else. Or maybe, he does; maybe, to him, it is a farewell.

“Thank you. For seeing the good in me.”

There’s meaning behind this that’s long lost on you. You cannot imagine somebody not doing so. But you can’t ask. Deep down, in the present version of yourself, you know, or think, you aren’t capable of it.

And the past never occurred the way you’d want it to, so you let time pass… let this pass.

A couple seconds later, Jungkook throws on a black jacket over his grey turtleneck sweater, zips up the backpack he already prepared…

And a minute after, he leaves quietly.

You stand on the same spot, at the edge of the couch for a long time. The door remains closed, trapping his scent and warmth so cruelly.

You stand silent, breathing slowly, shakily. You’ll have to learn to fill this silence again.

And you stand until the world fades and your knees buckle, and eventually, you let yourself imagine that he allowed you to love him properly one last time.

Somewhere, there’s a word for this emotion, isn’t there?

THE FIC ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit! so you can read the rest of the chapter in this reblog!

[rimtrbl]

jungkook fic recs ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

from someone who is not normal about him ☆ part two

✦ one shots

an abundance of mondays - ao3 (was on tumblr by diortae)

childhood best friends to lovers, college au, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, smut mdni

“Why the fuck would it be easy? You’re disgustingly in love with your best friend. Of course it’s complicated.” He pauses to roll his eyes, as if he hasn’t just laid out the most secret parts of you here in the middle of the campus dining hall.

Or, it’s an old cliche, falling in love with your best friend. It’s a shame none of the stories ever told you it would feel like this.

cold nights & blurred lines - ao3 (was on tumblr by awrkive)

college au, fwb, basketball player!jk, he’s a bit emotionally constipated it’s ok bc so is the reader, smut mdni

jungkook and you have been keeping a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

there is also a drabble after the events of cn&bl

the wedding planners - @gukyi

enemies to lovers, wedding au, fluff, slight angst, smut mdni

jeon jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. then your best friend hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly jeon jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend's wedding.

and then, as if your life couldn't get any shittier, you make the poor decision of sleeping with him on the first day of the job.

forever hold your peace - @seokbite ⟢ my personal fav rn

infidelity au, bestman!jk x reader & fiancé!taehyung, kook is tae’s best friend, angst, physical violence, smut mdni

Forever was a long time to spend with someone you weren't in love with. Saying yes to Taehyung's proposal had been a mistake, one you didn't think you could walk away from in fear of destroying everything you've ever made for yourself. But, your heart laid with Jeon Jungkook, your grooms best man and best friend.

idealizations concerning real life relations - @venusiangguk

strangers to lovers, fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!reader, fwb, angst, smut mdni

jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn't love in return.

something in the water - @vankoya

friends to lovers, camping au, mutual pining, slight crack au (tae funny as hellll) smut mdni

Sleeping in is a foreign concept to Kim Taehyung and his awkward,mismatched gang of pals. This is made all the more apparent when they rock up at ____'s doorstep at the ass crack of dawn, as if it is a natural time for any college student to be awake.

But when she is informed that it was the youngest of their group who insisted she join them on their spontaneous camping trip, she is suddenly not as reluctant to play along than when she was first awakened by her enigma of a best friend, slamming his fist against her front door.

chasing butterflies - @ddaenggtan ⟢ my favourite fic 4ever

idiots to lovers, college au, coffee shop au, weeb!jk x jock!reader, endless humour and anime jokes, mutual pining, losers in love.., smut mdni

you never meant to be a jock in school. the volleyball team had just needed people and you were there and then you had a knack for it. you just happened to be good at it and went with it. similar to how you saw jeon jungkook in your friend's orientation group and thought he was absolutely radiant and just went with it. for two years. you've spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he's around, but also because jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: the weebs. that is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it.

there is also a drabble after the events of cb

we can’t be friends - @taegularities ⟢ my fav author

exes au, college au, so much angst, smut mdni

Jungkook once planted a garden in your chest that he watered when he smiled and you killed when he left. But flowers withering isn't enough; that doesn't mend the ache. No - you want this entire story to die.

Or: If living on can't mend the pain of losing him, maybe forgetting him for good will.

mature - @jiminrings

friends to lovers, jealousy, fluff, kook kinda sucks sometimes but he gets a redemption arc

the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.

alternatively, crushing on jungkook who's in your friend group is, has, and will never be a good idea.

divine feminine - @gimmethatagustd

fwb, college au, fluff, kook yaps about anatomy n then tries a hands on approach, smut mdni

No one can make you feel like a goddess better than Jeon Jungkook.

melomaniac - @jungkxook

friends to lovers, band au, punk!jk, mutual pining but it’s kinda forbidden, a tatted jk fantasy b4 it became reality, smut mdni

you're wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn't be because he's supposed to be your best friend and nothing more. worst part of it all is that you know he's in love with you too.

skirt chasers - @1kook

friends to lovers, college au, campus crush!kook ‼️ the end of this fic is my fav thing ever btw, kook has a thing for skirts, smut mdni

"Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn't know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls."

drabble list for sc 1 2 3 4 5 misc 1 misc 2

zipper - @taeshobipop ⟢ another fav author of mine

frenemies, college au, fratboy!jk, smut mdni

Jungkook isn't your date to the annual BTS gala, but he's the only one available to take you dress shopping. So when a zipper emergency arises in the boutique's tiny dressing room, who's there to help you?

the train of lost souls - @inktae

fantasy au, mentions of past death, angst, some fluff

The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options.

You can choose to live, to be given a second and a last chance in life, in exchange for your memories and your previous existence. You can choose to be alive again, but it can only be an entirely new life. Everyone you've ever crossed paths with would forget your name. All the pain and the love you knew, all the ups and downs that made you hurt and made you smile - all of it, completely gone.

Or you can choose to move on, to give your life away while keeping your memories until the end of time. To step out of the world of the living and to embrace a new kind of loneliness, but with the warmth of your past always safe between your cold hands.

politico - @hamsterclaw

politics au, smut mdni

Jungkook and you are staffers in the office of the Secretary of State. He's cut-throat, sneaky and goddamn it, everything you love about politics in one irresistible package. Ft Yoongi, Namjoon and Jimin.

i heard a rumour - @taeshobipop

friends to lovers, college au, campus crush!jk, mutual pining, smut mdni

One slip of a finger, and you realize you've liked an Insta photo of college hotshot Jeon Jungkook...from two years ago. You manage to unlike it within seconds, except it's too late - Damn Kim Namjoon and his lightning-fast eyes. Do not tell a soul, you hiss.

The man merely smirks. Next thing you know, a rumor is spread throughout campus. Y/n likes Jungkook...and now he knows.

morning rush - @atdawnsuga

strangers, college au, exhibitionism?, slight smut mdni

You develop a strange relationship with the boy you share your morning commute with.

orange tulips - @kainks

soulmates au, reincarnation au, lots of angst, fluff, light smut mdni

You'd remember Jungkook with every life you lived. Only he'd never remember you, never recall how your fates were written in the stars since the beginning of time.

catharsis - @junghelioseok

college au, fwb, ft. jimin, smut mdni

no matter what kind of release you need, he's there.

how long will we fall - @jiminrings

friends to lovers, soulmate au, unrequited love, so much angst, kook is emotionally constipated

if it's fate, it should already be set onto your skin - that's why jungkook's initials are already on your finger. he's always there for you, but not only for you. if you're his fate, he'd rather not have it.

alternatively, jungkook's your soulmate, but he doesn't want to be.

all i want for cockmas - @junqkook

jk is a mall santa lmfao, crack fic, smut mdni

you tell santa exactly what you want for christmas.

✦ series/multi-shot

incoming: elite chatboy - @kookingtae

ongoing 5/?, sex chat worker!jk, text au, humour, smut mdni

welcome to Elite Chatroom, a sex chat company with a wide variety of services such as text messaging, phone call, and video chat. you signed up online for the most basic text service plan not knowing what to expect, but you certainly didn’t think you’d end up actually liking the man behind the screen.

read part one here

the turing test - @fortunexkookie

indefinite hiatus 7/?, still added it :( cuz it’s my fav, android au, android!jk x creator!reader, mutual pining, shared tension, angst, smut mdni

"The Turing Test, developed by Alan Turing in 1950, is a test of a machine's ability to exhibit intelligent behavior equivalent to, or indistinguishable from, that of a human."

Jungkook fiddled with your hands in his, humming softly, as if deep in thought. You noted the way his eyebrows had furrowed, the sweet way his lips formed a pout, and wondered what could possibly be troubling him so much. What had he learned today?

"Creator," he began, dragging his gaze up to meet your own, "you gave me a mind that thinks, hands that feel, and a heart that beats, but did you give me a soul?"

read part one here

falling skies - @fortunexkookie

completed 6/6 enemies to friends to lovers, childhood friends au, slow burn, major angst, fluff, smut mdni

Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her twin, Jungkook, was something else entirely.

prologue

you can also read part one here

killah - @citrustan

ongoing 9/?, strangers to lovers? maybe, infidelity au, managing partner lawyer!jk x spoilt brat! reader, angst, smut mdni

you wanted jeon jungkook the moment you laid eyes on him and the fact that he had a girlfriend wasn't going to stop you.

series masterlist can be found here

cradle robbers - @wintrbears

completed 3/3, childhood friends to lovers, accidental pregnancy au, fwb, slow burn, slight angst, smut mdni

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.

series masterlist can be found here

cowabunga, baby! - @jungshookz

completed 2/2, lifeguard!jk, kook surfs as well he’s rlly hot, crack fic, fluff, slight smut mdni

you'd blow his whistle any day - if only you weren't such a wimp.

part 1 2

to build a home - @soft4gguk

ongoing/author hiatus 16/? strangers to lovers, ceo dilf!jk x nanny!reader, angst, kook becomes a single parent, fluff, slow burn-ish, smut mdni

at twenty-eight, jungkook sees himself go from a family of three, to one of two - heartbreak never comes easy, but nothing could've prepared him for being a single parent as a result of Ira walking out on him. pain brings chaos and he's in need of help. it's only fateful that you so happen to be a blessing in disguise... in many ways than one.

series masterlist can be found here

colour me in - @taegularities

ongoing 15/? fake dating, fwb, college au, fuckboy!jk, this fic is the best thing to ever happen to me btw, misunderstandings, fluff, angst, smut mdni

Jungkook's door only opens for you when there's a barter: a trade of lust and haze. But today you knock for something more, as intriguing as it is frightening - and you hope it doesn't close his door forever.

series masterlist can be found here

please make sure to support the authors who’ve been tagged <3 and by all means, please lmk if you’d like your fic removed.

this hasn’t even scratched the surface of all the jk fics i’ve read over the years, in fact i’ve got 10 years of reblogs & likes on this tumblr from the beginning of my bts era til now..

might make another one later, this took me 3 hours 🫩

[vankoya]

Something in the Water.

Genre | Camping / Friends to Lovers AU.

Pairing | Jeon Jeongguk / Feminine Reader.

Words | 25,836 words.

Conspectus | Sleeping in is a foreign concept to Kim Taehyung and his awkward, mismatched gang of pals. This is made all the more apparent when they rock up at ___’s doorstep at the ass crack of dawn, as if it is a natural time for any college student to be awake. 

But when she is informed that it was the youngest of their group who insisted she join them on their spontaneous camping trip, she is suddenly not as reluctant to play along than when she was first awakened by her enigma of a best friend, slamming his fist against her front door.

Warnings | Loads of swearing young adults. Terrible jokes that made my eyes bleed and would one hundred and ten percent make Kim Seokjin proud. A lot of banter. Relatively slow build to tent sex. No, not literally having sex with a tent, just inside– I’ll stop.

Keep reading

[seokbite]

FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE ﹒❀ J.JK & K.TH

SYNOPSIS: Forever was a long time to spend with someone you weren't in love with. Saying yes to Taehyung's proposal had been a mistake, one you didn't think you could walk away from in fear of destroying everything you've ever made for yourself. But, your heart laid with Jeon Jungkook, your grooms best man and best friend.

STARRING : 💍 bestman!jungkook x reader & fiance!taehyung x reader

WARNINGS : smut mdni, closet sex, hotel sex, multiple sex scenes, cowgirl, bathroom sex, infidelity, angst, fighting, blood, weddings, reader and jungkook are not good people at all.

▹ word count ✶﹐20k

The soft glow of string lights and the warm flicker of candles bathed the rehearsal dinner venue in a romantic haze, but beneath the surface, the air crackled with the kind of electric anticipation that came the night before a wedding. Tables were being meticulously set with crisp white linens and gleaming silverware, florists adjusted overflowing arrangements of blush roses and eucalyptus, and the low murmur of laughter mixed with the clink of champagne flutes as the wedding party mingled.

Taehyung moved through it all with his usual bright, easy smile, clapping Jungkook on the back as they joked about something you couldn’t quite hear from across the room. Your fiancé looked happy— genuinely happy and a sharp pang twisted in your chest at the sight. You loved him. You truly did. He was safe, kind, and had built a beautiful life with you. But love wasn’t the same as the all-consuming fire that burned in your veins whenever Jeon Jungkook was near.

No one noticed when you slipped away from the bustling main hall, your heels clicking softly against the polished floors as you made your way down a dimly lit side corridor. Seconds later, the supply closet door opened and closed with a quiet click, and Jungkook was on you. The space was small and intimate, barely large enough for the two of you, filled with the clean scent of fresh linens, lemon furniture polish, and the faint woody notes of his cologne that always made your head spin. Shelves lined the walls, stacked high with folded tablecloths and spare glassware that trembled slightly as he pressed you back against them. His hands were everywhere at once, cupping your face, sliding down your neck, gripping your waist with a hunger that had been building for far too long.

His mouth crashed against yours in a heated, desperate kiss, tongues tangling instantly as years of suppressed longing poured out between you. You moaned softly into him, fingers threading through his dark, silky hair and tugging just hard enough to draw a low growl from his throat. The kiss was messy, breathless, all teeth and tongue and raw need. One of his large hands trailed down your body, bunching the soft, flowing fabric of your rehearsal dinner dress higher and higher up your thighs until the cool air kissed your skin. He hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your panties, yanking them roughly to the side without bothering to remove them. You felt the thick, hot length of his cock pressing against your entrance, already slick and aching for him after just one heated look across the room earlier.

“Jungkook…” you whispered breathlessly against his lips, but the name came out more like a plea than a warning. You tried not to think about how long this had been going on; one entire year of stolen touches, secret meetings, and nights where you told yourself it would be the last time. You tried not to think about Taehyung waiting just down the hall, about the vows you would speak tomorrow, or the life you had so carefully built. But then Jungkook pushed inside you in one slow, powerful thrust, stretching you open so perfectly that all coherent thought shattered.

A choked gasp escaped your lips as he filled you completely, his cock buried to the hilt, your walls fluttering around his thick girth. He was so big, so deep, the delicious burn of it making your toes curl inside your heels. Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard, his hands gripping your hips with bruising strength to hold you steady in the cramped space. “Fuck, baby… so tight, so wet for me already,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked, barely above a whisper. He began to move then, deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the angle perfect in the tight confines of the closet. The shelf behind you rattled softly with each measured pump of his hips, the quiet, wet sounds of your bodies connecting echoing obscenely in the small room.

You clung to his broad shoulders, nails digging into the crisp fabric of his black button-up shirt as you tried desperately to stay quiet. Outside, the rehearsal dinner continued, laughter rang out, glasses clinked, someone called your name faintly in the distance, but in here, it was just the two of you. Your leg hooked around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper as he fucked you with controlled intensity, grinding against your clit with every thrust. Pleasure coiled hot and tight in your lower belly, building faster than you could handle. Sweat beaded along your skin, your dress sticking to your back, while Jungkook’s breath fanned hot against your neck, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered filthy praises.

“You feel so fucking good… always take me so well,” he groaned quietly, one hand slipping between your bodies to rub tight circles over your swollen clit. His pace quickened slightly, hips snapping forward in short, powerful strokes that made stars burst behind your eyelids. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the desperate whimpers threatening to spill out. The scent of him, clean soap, faint sweat, and pure Jungkook— overwhelmed you, making your head spin. Every drag of his cock sent sparks of ecstasy racing up your spine, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around him as you neared the edge.

He could feel it, knew your body better than anyone. “That’s it, baby. Come for me,” he murmured, voice strained with his own impending release. “Let go… I’ve got you.” The coil inside you snapped, pleasure crashing over you in powerful waves. Your thighs trembled violently as you came hard around him, a broken sob muffled against his skin while your pussy pulsed and fluttered, drawing him even deeper. Jungkook followed right after, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan he tried— and failed— to silence. You felt the hot rush of his release filling you, his cock twitching deep inside as he rode out his orgasm, hips grinding lazily against yours until you were both spent and shaking.

For several long moments, the only sounds were your ragged breaths mingling in the dim closet. Jungkook stayed buried inside you, softening slowly, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as if he couldn’t bear to let go just yet. He pressed soft, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, tender now that the storm had passed. You kept your eyes closed, trying to savor the warmth of him, the feeling of being so completely his, even if it was only for these stolen minutes. Tomorrow you would walk down the aisle and promise forever to Taehyung. Tomorrow this would have to end.

The aftershocks of pleasure still hummed through your body as Jungkook cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing tenderly over your flushed cheeks, and kissed you— slow, deep, and devastatingly intimate. It wasn’t the frantic hunger from minutes ago; this kiss was full of quiet longing, his tongue sliding against yours like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. You melted into it, fingers curling weakly into his shirt, wishing you could stay wrapped in him forever.

Eventually he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours with a heavy sigh. “We should get back,” he murmured, voice low and rough, still laced with emotion. He pressed one last soft kiss to your swollen lips before carefully slipping out of you. The loss of him made you ache in more ways than one. Jungkook stepped back just enough to fix himself, tucking his shirt back in, smoothing down the front of his black trousers, and running a hand through his messy hair until it looked intentionally tousled rather than freshly fucked. He gave you one final look, eyes dark and conflicted, the weight of tomorrow hanging between you like a storm cloud.

“I’ll see you back out there, baby,” he whispered, the nickname slipping out like a secret he couldn’t hold in. Then he cracked the door open, checked the hallway, and slipped out without another word, leaving you alone in the dim, cluttered space.

You stood there for a long moment, thighs still trembling, his release slowly trickling down your skin. The distant sounds of the rehearsal dinner filtered in, laughter, music, the clinking of glasses, reminding you that the world outside hadn’t stopped turning.

With a shaky breath, you reached for the small mirror hanging on the back of the closet door. Your reflection stared back at you: cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen, hair slightly disheveled. You carefully smoothed everything back into place, patting down stray strands, fixing the smudged edge of your lipstick with your fingertip, and adjusting the neckline of your dress until you looked like the composed bride-to-be everyone expected.

As you stared at your own eyes in the mirror, a heavy wave of memory washed over you. Your mind drifted back to the exact day this all began, the moment everything between you and Jungkook shifted from best-friend’s-girlfriend and best man into something irreversible.

one year ago.

The rain came down in merciless sheets that night, turning the city streets into glossy rivers that reflected the blurred glow of streetlights. Thunder rolled overhead like distant artillery, shaking the windows of the apartment building as you slammed the door behind you. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, a chaotic mix of rage, hurt, and disbelief crashing through you with every step. The fight with Taehyung had been one of the worst you’d ever had, maybe the worst. It started over something small, as these things often did: a forgotten anniversary plan, a careless comment about your long work hours. But it had snowballed fast, words flying like daggers neither of you could take back.

“You’re never here anymore!” Taehyung had shouted, his usually warm voice sharp with frustration. “It feels like I’m dating a ghost. Do you even still want this?”

You’d fired back just as viciously. “Maybe I don’t! Maybe I’m tired of feeling like I’m carrying everything while you act like the charming golden boy who never has to try!” The accusations had grown crueler, old insecurities dragged into the light, past arguments rehashed with fresh venom. He’d said you were emotionally unavailable. You’d thrown back that sometimes you wondered if he even loved you or just loved the idea of you. By the end, both of you were yelling things you never thought you’d say to each other. “Maybe we shouldn’t even be together,” he’d spat. You hadn’t disagreed. You’d grabbed your coat and left before the tears could fall in front of him.

Now, soaked to the bone, your phone vibrated relentlessly in your pocket. Taehyung’s name lit up the screen again and again, missed calls piling up, text notifications buzzing like angry hornets. You ignored them all, teeth chattering as the cold rain seeped through your thin jacket and into your skin. The wind whipped your hair across your face, stinging your eyes that were already burning from crying. Where could you even go? Chaewon was out of town for the whole week, visiting family in Busan. Hotels felt too lonely, too clinical for a night like this. Your feet carried you almost on autopilot through the storm, blocks blurring together until you found yourself standing in front of Jungkook’s apartment building.

He was Taehyung’s best friend, but over the years he had become yours too. The three of you had built a comfortable little world together, lazy Sundays playing video games, late-night drives for street food, inside jokes that no one else understood. Showing up at his door in the middle of a breakdown wasn’t entirely out of character, but it still felt vulnerable. Your knuckles rapped against the wood, weak at first, then louder as another crack of thunder split the sky.

The door opened after a moment, and Jungkook stood there in a simple black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his dark hair slightly messy like he’d been relaxing. His eyes widened instantly at the sight of you, drenched, shivering, mascara running in dark streaks down your cheeks, lips trembling from the cold and suppressed sobs. “Holy shit,” he breathed, reaching out without hesitation. “Get in here right now. You’re going to freeze to death.”

Strong hands pulled you inside, and the warmth of his apartment wrapped around you like a hug. The door clicked shut, muffling the roar of the storm outside. Soft lighting glowed from a lamp in the living room, and the faint scent of his cologne, something woody and clean, mingled with the smell of rain on your clothes. Jungkook didn’t bombard you with questions. Instead, he moved with quiet efficiency. He disappeared down the short hallway and returned quickly with a large, fluffy towel, an oversized black hoodie that smelled like him, and a pair of his sweatpants.

“Here,” he said gently, pressing them into your arms. “Bathroom’s yours. Change out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia. I’ll make you something warm to eat.” His voice was steady, grounding, the kind of calm that made the chaos in your head feel a little less overwhelming.

You nodded numbly and slipped into the bathroom. Peeling off your soaked clothes felt like shedding a layer of the fight itself. The dry fabric of his hoodie engulfed you, soft and comforting against your chilled skin, the hem falling mid-thigh. The sweatpants were loose but warm. When you emerged, Jungkook had already set up the living room: a steaming bowl of spicy ramen on the coffee table, a blanket draped over the couch, and a glass of water beside it. He patted the seat next to him.

Only then did he ask, voice soft and free of judgment, “What happened?”

The words tumbled out of you for what felt like hours. You told him everything, the small spark that started the argument, how it escalated into screaming matches about commitment, about feeling unseen, about fears that maybe the two of you had grown in different directions. You recounted the cruelest things said: how Taehyung had implied you were selfish for prioritizing your career, how you’d thrown back that sometimes he felt more like a best friend than a partner. Tears flowed freely again as you spoke, and Jungkook listened through it all. He never interrupted, never took sides. He simply nodded, offered quiet “I’m sorry you went through that,” and handed you tissues when your voice cracked.

As the ramen cooled and your shivering finally stopped, the conversation stretched deeper. You talked about the good times too, the early days when everything with Taehyung felt effortless and exciting. Jungkook shared his own observations from the outside, careful and kind. “You two have always been strong,” he said at one point, leaning back against the couch. “But even strong couples hit rough patches. Doesn’t mean it’s over unless you want it to be.”

Time slipped away. The storm outside began to ease into a steady drizzle. Eventually, Jungkook stood and returned from the kitchen with a bottle of red wine and two glasses. “You’ve earned this,” he said with a small, comforting smile, pouring generously. “Might help take the edge off.”

You accepted the glass gratefully. The rich, velvety liquid warmed your throat and loosened the knot in your chest. As you sipped, the heavy topic of the fight slowly faded. The conversation drifted naturally into lighter waters, funny memories from group trips, inside jokes about Taehyung’s dramatic reactions to horror movies, stories from Jungkook’s recent work projects. He was always so easy to talk to, his laughter low and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners when something truly amused him.

Eventually the topic turned to his love life, or lack thereof. Jungkook swirled the wine in his glass, a faint sigh escaping him. “I don’t know… I just haven’t found the right girl yet. Dating feels exhausting lately. Everyone I meet seems nice on the surface, but there’s no real connection. No spark that makes me want to fight for it, you know?”

You tilted your head, studying him under the warm lamplight. The wine had brought a soft flush to your cheeks, and the comfort of his clothes made you feel safer than you had all night. “She’ll come along, Kook. I promise. You’re… you’re really attractive. Like, stupidly attractive. You’re kind, talented, funny, thoughtful. Any girl would be incredibly lucky to have you. Don’t sell yourself short.”

He looked surprised, then shy. A light blush crept across his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he ducked his head with a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Stop it. You’re just saying that because you’re being nice after a bad night.” But when he lifted his gaze again, his dark eyes met yours and held. The air between you thickened, charged with something new and electric. “You’re attractive too,” he said quietly, voice dropping lower. “Really fucking attractive. Inside and out. The way you light up when you talk about things you love… the way you’re so strong even when you’re hurting. Taehyung’s lucky. Anyone would be.”

The compliment landed heavily, warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with the wine. You stared at each other across the small space of the couch. The storm outside had become a distant murmur. Your heart pounded hard against your ribs, a mix of guilt, curiosity, and undeniable pull swirling inside you. Without fully realizing what you were doing, you set your wine glass down on the coffee table with a soft clink. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet room.

Then you leaned forward, closing the distance in one breathless moment, and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss started tentative, soft and uncertain, tasting of red wine and the faint salt of earlier tears. But the moment Jungkook’s hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your damp hair, something ignited. The kiss deepened, slow and exploratory, like both of you had been waiting for permission you didn’t know you needed.

The kiss deepened almost instantly, like a dam breaking after years of careful restraint. What started as soft and tentative quickly turned hungry— your lips parting, tongues sliding together in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that sent heat rushing through your entire body. Jungkook tasted like red wine and warmth, his mouth moving against yours with a quiet intensity that made your head spin. One of his hands stayed cradled at the back of your neck, fingers threading through your still-damp hair, while the other settled on your waist, gripping the fabric of his oversized hoodie like he was trying to anchor himself.

You couldn’t stop yourself. The ache that had been building inside you all night, the hurt from the fight, the confusion, the unexpected pull toward Jungkook, pushed you forward. You shifted on the couch, swinging one leg over his lap until you were straddling him, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his thighs. The new position brought your bodies flush together, your chest pressed against his, and you felt the sharp intake of breath he took against your mouth.

Jungkook’s hands instinctively moved to your hips, holding you there as the kiss grew hotter, wetter. A low sound rumbled in his chest— half groan, half sigh— and for a few blissful seconds, he kissed you back like he’d been starving for it. His tongue explored yours, teeth grazing your bottom lip, sending little sparks straight down your spine.

Then he suddenly pulled away, breaking the kiss with a gasp. His forehead rested against yours, eyes squeezed shut, breathing ragged. “Wait— wait,” he whispered, voice strained and rough. One hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. His dark eyes searched yours, filled with conflict. “But… Taehyung. He’s my best friend. You’re his girlfriend. We can’t— we shouldn’t—”

The words hung heavy between you, the reality of what you were doing crashing down like cold water. For a heartbeat, guilt flickered across his face, his jaw tight as he fought an internal battle. You could see it, the loyalty to Taehyung warring with the undeniable desire burning in his gaze.

You shook your head, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. Your fingers curled into the front of his t-shirt, holding him close. “I know,” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s wrong. But right now… I need this, Jungkook. I need you.” Your voice cracked slightly, raw with emotion. “Tonight I don’t want to think about the fight or what it means. I just… I want this. I want you. And I can tell you want it too.”

Jungkook stared at you for a long, charged moment. His chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes dark and conflicted, lips slightly parted and still glistening from the kiss. The silence stretched, thick with tension and unspoken consequences. Then something in his expression shifted, the hesitation cracked, desire winning out. With a quiet, defeated groan, he slid his hand back into your hair and pulled you back down into a searing kiss.

This time there was no restraint. The kiss was deeper, more possessive, his tongue claiming your mouth as his hands roamed. He kissed you like he was pouring every hidden feeling he’d ever had into it. His lips soon trailed away from your mouth, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the sensitive column of your neck. You tilted your head to the side, giving him better access, a soft whimper escaping as his teeth grazed your pulse point.

“Fuck… you taste so good,” he murmured against your skin, voice husky. One of his large hands slid down to your thigh, fingers slipping under the hem of the borrowed sweatpants, stroking the bare skin there with slow, deliberate touches. The other hand stayed on your hip, guiding you as you began to move.

You rocked slowly against him, grinding down onto his lap in a gentle, teasing rhythm. You could already feel him hardening beneath you, the growing bulge pressing against your core through the thin layers of fabric. Each roll of your hips drew a low, muffled groan from him, the sound vibrating against your neck where he continued kissing and gently sucking, careful not to leave marks but clearly struggling with the urge.

His hands explored your thighs with increasing hunger, squeezing the soft flesh, fingertips digging in just enough to make you shiver. “You feel so fucking good on me,” he whispered between kisses, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Been trying not to think about this for so long…”

You answered by grinding down harder, chasing the friction that was quickly turning the slow burn into an open flame. The living room felt smaller, hotter, the distant sound of rain against the windows the only thing grounding you to reality. Jungkook’s breath grew heavier, his hips starting to lift subtly to meet your movements, hands guiding your pace as he kissed lower, nudging the collar of the hoodie aside to press his lips to your collarbone.

Every touch, every whispered word, every roll of your hips blurred the line further, guilt and desire twisting together until they were almost indistinguishable. The heat between you had become unbearable, a slow-building fire that consumed every last shred of hesitation. Jungkook’s hands were everywhere, sliding under the oversized hoodie, palms hot against your bare skin as he pulled you closer.

Your fingers trembled as they found the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it upward. He helped you, lifting his arms so you could peel it off, revealing the smooth, toned planes of his chest and abdomen, muscles flexing with every ragged breath. The hoodie came off next in a frantic blur, your hair tumbling messily around your shoulders as he yanked it over your head. Sweatpants and his own followed, fabric whispering against skin and pooling on the floor until there was nothing left between you.

Naked, skin to skin, the world narrowed to just this: the warmth of his body, the rapid thud of his heartbeat against yours, the way his dark eyes drank you in like you were the only thing that mattered. Any lingering thought of Taehyung dissolved completely, washed away by the storm outside and the one raging inside you. There was only Jungkook, his scent, his touch, the way he looked at you like he’d been waiting years for this moment.

You rose up on your knees, straddling him fully now, one hand braced on his broad shoulder while the other reached between your bodies. His cock was hard and heavy, flushed and leaking at the tip. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking once, twice, feeling him twitch in your grip. Jungkook’s breath hitched, a low, needy sound escaping his throat as he gripped your hips, thumbs stroking soothing circles into your skin. No words passed between you. None were needed.

Slowly, torturously, you sank down onto him.

The stretch was exquisite, inch by inch, he filled you, thick and deep, pressing against walls that had never been touched quite like this. A soft, broken moan slipped from your lips as you bottomed out, your thighs trembling against his. Jungkook’s head fell back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, his chest rising sharply with a silent groan. His hands tightened on your hips, not guiding, just holding, reverent, steady, like he was afraid this might vanish if he gripped too hard.

You stayed there for a long moment, just feeling him, letting your body adjust to the fullness. Then you began to move. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t rough. It was slow, rolling waves, your hips lifting and sinking in a languid rhythm, grinding down on every descent so his cock dragged perfectly against that sensitive spot deep inside you. Every movement drew quiet, breathy moans from both of you. Your forehead pressed to his, noses brushing, mouths hovering close enough to share the same air. His hands roamed your back, your waist, your thighs, gentle caresses that felt almost worshipful. One palm came up to cup your breast, thumb brushing tenderly over your nipple, drawing another soft whimper from you.

You rode him like that for what felt like forever, lost in the rhythm. The wet, intimate sounds of your bodies moving together filled the quiet living room, mingling with the steady patter of rain against the windows. Your breaths synced— short, panting exhales every time you sank down, shaky inhales when you rose again. Jungkook’s moans were low and guttural, vibrating against your chest whenever he buried his face in your neck. He kissed you there, open-mouthed and slow, sucking gently, tongue tracing your pulse.

You hated yourself for the thought that flickered through your mind, but it was impossible to ignore: Jungkook was hitting places Taehyung had never reached. Deeper, fuller, brushing against a spot that made sparks explode behind your eyelids with every roll of your hips. The pleasure was different, richer, more intense, curling low in your belly and spreading outward like warm honey. Guilt twisted sharp and sudden in your chest, but it melted away again under the next wave of sensation as you ground down harder, taking him to the hilt.

Jungkook seemed to sense it. His arms wrapped fully around you, pulling you impossibly closer until your bodies were flush, moving as one. One hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your head; the other stayed on your lower back, guiding your slow, sensual rhythm without forcing it. His lips found yours again, kissing you deeply, languidly, tongues stroking in time with your hips. Every moan, every sigh, every quiet gasp became your only language.

You could feel the tension building in both of you, coiling tighter and tighter. Your walls fluttered around him, clenching with every descent. Jungkook’s breathing grew more ragged, his hips starting to lift subtly to meet yours, pushing just a little deeper each time. Sweat slicked your skin where you pressed together. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails leaving faint crescents as the pleasure crested.

When you came, it was slow and devastating, waves of ecstasy rolling through you, pulling a long, trembling moan from your throat that he swallowed with another deep kiss. Your body pulsed around him, drawing him in, holding him there as pleasure blinded you. Jungkook followed moments later, burying himself deep with one final, shuddering thrust. A broken groan tore from him as he spilled inside you, hot and pulsing, his arms tightening around your body like he never wanted to let go.

You stayed like that for a long time afterward, still joined, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in. His hands stroked soothingly up and down your back. Soft kisses were pressed to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. No words. Just the quiet intimacy of two people who had crossed a line they could never uncross.

The next morning light crept in slowly through the half-drawn blinds of Jungkook’s living room, painting long, lazy stripes of pale gold across the hardwood floor and the rumpled blanket that had been pulled over your bodies sometime in the night. You woke gradually, not with a jolt but with a soft, heavy awareness that settled into your bones like warm honey mixed with lead. Your body felt different, deliciously used, sore in the most intimate places, a faint ache between your thighs that made heat bloom across your cheeks even before your eyes fully opened.

Every shift of your hips reminded you of how deeply he had been inside you, how perfectly he had filled you, how your walls had clenched around him in those slow, rolling waves of pleasure. The memory hit you in fragments: the way his hands had gripped your hips with such tender reverence, the quiet hitch in his breath each time you sank down onto him, the way your foreheads had stayed pressed together as if you were sharing the same heartbeat.

Jungkook lay beside you on the wide couch, still fast asleep. His dark hair was tousled against the cushion, one arm draped loosely over your waist, fingers curled loosely against the bare skin of your lower back where the blanket had slipped. His chest rose and fell in deep, even rhythms, lips slightly parted, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. He looked so peaceful, so boyishly handsome in the morning light, and for a fleeting second your heart squeezed with something dangerously close to affection.

Last night had been… God, it had been some of the best sex of your life. Not just the physical release— though that had been shattering— but the intimacy of it. The way it had felt romantic, almost sacred, like two souls reaching for each other in the dark without a single word spoken. You hadn’t rushed. You hadn’t needed to. Every slow grind of your hips, every shared breath, every soft moan had built something deeper than lust. And now, in the quiet aftermath, you lay there feeling the evidence of it still inside you, his release, dried on your inner thighs, a sticky reminder that refused to let you pretend it had been a dream.

But the warmth in your chest curdled quickly into something colder. Your heart felt heavy, a dull, throbbing weight pressing against your ribs as reality seeped in like the gray dawn outside. You didn’t regret it. Not entirely. How could you, when your body still hummed with the afterglow of something so raw and real? Taehyung had never touched you like that— never reached the places Jungkook had found so effortlessly, never made you feel so completely seen and wanted in the middle of your brokenness.

The thought made guilt twist sharp and vicious in your stomach, but it was tangled up with an odd, stubborn sense of clarity. Last night had been a release you hadn’t known you needed. Still, the dread pooled low in your belly, thick and icy, spreading outward until your fingers trembled where they rested against Jungkook’s arm. You had cheated. On Taehyung. With his best friend. The words echoed in your mind like a courtroom verdict, cold and final. You had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and the weight of it pressed down on you until breathing felt like an effort.

Your mind began to whirl, thoughts spiraling faster and faster. What if Jungkook woke up right now? What would you say? What if he looked at you with those dark, searching eyes and asked if it changed anything? What if Taehyung somehow sensed it the second you walked through the door, the faint scent of Jungkook’s cologne still clinging to your skin, the subtle marks his mouth had left on your neck that you’d have to hide? Panic flickered at the edges of your consciousness. You couldn’t stay here. You had to leave before the apartment filled with daylight and questions and the terrifying possibility that last night might mean more than either of you could handle.

Carefully, so carefully, you began to disentangle yourself. You lifted Jungkook’s arm inch by inch, holding your breath when he stirred and let out a soft, sleepy sigh. His fingers brushed your hip as they fell away, sending a traitorous spark through you, but he didn’t wake. You slid off the couch on silent feet, the cool floorboards kissing your bare soles. Your clothes from the night before, still slightly damp from the storm, lay folded neatly on the coffee table where Jungkook must have placed them.

You dressed quickly but quietly, pulling on your pants and shirt with shaking hands, wincing at the way the fabric dragged against skin still sensitive from his touch. The oversized hoodie and sweatpants you’d borrowed last night stayed behind; you couldn’t risk taking anything that smelled like him home. One last glance at Jungkook, his peaceful face, the faint red lines your nails had left on his shoulder, and your chest tightened with a confusing mix of longing and shame. You slipped out the door like a ghost, pulling it shut behind you with the softest click. The hallway was empty, the building still hushed in the early hour. Your footsteps echoed too loudly in your own ears as you hurried down the stairs and out into the morning air.

The city was just waking up, the streets still glistening from last night’s rain. Puddles reflected the pale sky, and the air carried that fresh, earthy scent of wet pavement mixed with distant coffee shops opening their doors. You walked the familiar route home, each step heavier than the last. The dread in your belly grew into a storm of its own, churning and expanding until it felt like it might swallow you whole. You had cheated. With Jungkook. Taehyung’s best friend. The man who had stood beside him at every milestone, who had laughed with the two of you over late-night dinners, who had been part of your shared life for years.

How had it come to this? One fight, one storm, one vulnerable night, and now everything was tainted. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, Taehyung again, probably, but you couldn’t look. Not yet. Your mind raced through every possible scenario: what if he could tell just by looking at you? What if the guilt was written across your face like a neon sign? What if Jungkook texted him something innocent later and the truth slipped out anyway? You prayed, silently and desperately, that Taehyung wouldn’t be home when you got there. Maybe he’d crashed at the studio. Maybe he’d gone for a run to clear his head. Anything but facing him with last night still burning on your skin.

But the universe had other plans. Punishment, it seemed, came swift and merciless.

The moment you slid your key into the lock of your apartment door, the familiar click sounded like a gunshot in the quiet hallway. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat. The living room was dim, curtains still drawn, but the lamp on the side table was on. And there he was, Taehyung. He had clearly spent the entire night on the couch, exactly where you’d left him. His hair was a wild mess, dark circles carved under his eyes, clothes wrinkled and rumpled from hours of restless tossing. The second the door opened and he registered your presence, he shot up from the couch like a man possessed, eyes wide and red-rimmed with exhaustion and unshed tears.

“Baby—” His voice cracked on the single word, raw and broken. He crossed the room in three long, desperate strides, bare feet silent on the floor. Before you could even open your mouth to speak, he dropped to his knees right in front of you, the impact loud enough to make you flinch. His arms wrapped around your legs in a crushing embrace, face burying itself against your thighs as heavy, gut-wrenching sobs tore from his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he cried, voice muffled against the fabric of your pants. Tears soaked through immediately, warm and relentless. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean any of the things I said last night— none of it. I was scared and angry and I took it all out on you. I love you. God, I love you so much. Please… please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I can’t do this without you.”

His shoulders shook violently under the force of his crying. He clung to you like a lifeline, fingers digging into the back of your thighs as if letting go would make you disappear forever. “I stayed up all night thinking about everything. About us. About how I’ve been taking you for granted. I’ll change. I’ll do better. I’ll be the man you deserve. Just… just tell me we’re okay. Tell me you still love me.”

Your heart sank like a stone dropped into the deepest, coldest part of the ocean. The guilt you’d been carrying since you left Jungkook’s apartment crashed over you in a tidal wave, so intense it stole the breath from your lungs. Here was Taehyung— your boyfriend, your partner, the man you had built a life with, completely shattered at your feet, pouring out his soul in raw, ugly tears. And you… you had spent the night wrapped around his best friend, letting Jungkook fuck you slow and deep while the rain fell outside. The contrast was nauseating. You couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not ever. The truth would destroy him. It would destroy the three of you. Everything you had worked so hard to build would crumble into dust.

Right then and there, kneeling on the floor with him, the decision crystallized in your mind like ice forming over a lake. It had to be a one-time thing. A horrible, beautiful, unrepeatable mistake born from anger and vulnerability and the storm. You would talk to Jungkook, soon, before anything else could happen, and make him understand. You would convince him that you couldn’t tell Taehyung, that it was a mistake that could never be repeated, that the two of you had to bury it so deep it never saw the light of day again. For Taehyung’s sake. For all of your sakes.

Tears spilled down your own cheeks then— hot, guilty, bitter tears that burned tracks down your skin. You sank to your knees too, right there in the entryway, cupping Taehyung’s tear-streaked face in both your hands and lifting it so you could look into his eyes. They were so full of love and relief and desperation that it nearly broke you all over again. “Taehyung…” you whispered, voice thick and trembling. You leaned in and kissed him softly, tasting the salt of his tears on his lips. The kiss was gentle, reassuring, everything he needed it to be. “I forgive you. I’m sorry too. We both said awful, hurtful things. I love you. We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

He pulled you into his arms with a broken sob of relief, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his body shook against yours. You held him tight, stroking his back in slow, soothing circles, letting your own tears fall freely into his hair. The two of you stayed like that on the floor for what felt like hours, two broken people clinging to each other in the wreckage of last night’s fight.

Taehyung’s tears eventually slowed, replaced by shaky, grateful breaths and whispered promises against your skin. But while his were tears of remorse and gratitude and second chances, yours were born from something far darker: a crushing shame that settled deep in your bones, a fear that gnawed at the edges of your mind, and the terrifying knowledge that you had just shattered something sacred and could never, ever take it back.

The apartment smelled like yesterday’s dinner and stale coffee. The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence between his sobs. Outside, the city continued its morning rhythm, cars passing, birds calling, life moving forward as if nothing had changed. But inside, everything had. You stroked Taehyung’s hair and whispered more reassurances, even as your mind replayed every slow, intimate moment with Jungkook in vivid, unwanted detail. The way he had looked at you. The way he had felt inside you. The way your body had responded like it had been waiting for him all along.

You hated yourself for it. But you couldn’t undo it. All you could do now was bury it, lock it away, and pray that the secret wouldn’t eat you alive from the inside out.

The week that followed the stormy night felt like walking through fog, thick, disorienting, and heavy with the weight of what you’d done. You threw yourself into repairing things with Taehyung: quiet dinners at home, long talks where he held your hands and promised to be better, soft kisses that tasted like forgiveness. You told yourself every single day that the night with Jungkook had been a one-time lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness you would bury so deep it would never surface again. You even avoided places where you might run into him, deleting the casual “you okay?” text he’d sent the day after and never replying.

But the memories refused to stay buried. At night, when Taehyung slept beside you, your mind replayed every slow roll of your hips, every shared breath, the way Jungkook had looked at you like you were the only real thing in his world. Your body remembered too— the delicious ache, the way he had reached places no one else ever had. The guilt was constant, but so was the pull. By the seventh day, you couldn’t fight it anymore. You told Taehyung you were going out for a walk to clear your head, and your feet carried you straight to Jungkook’s apartment building like they had a mind of their own.

Your heart thundered as you stood outside his door, fist hovering. Just end it, you repeated like a mantra. Tell him it was a mistake. Make sure he understands we can never speak of it again. You knocked before you could chicken out.

Jungkook opened the door almost immediately, as if he’d sensed you coming. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, hair messy, wearing the same black hoodie from that night. The moment his gaze landed on you, something raw and relieved flickered across his face.

“You came,” he said softly, stepping aside to let you in.

The apartment smelled exactly the same, clean cotton, faint cologne, warm coffee. It made your stomach twist with unwanted nostalgia. You sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, the same one where everything had started, hands knotted tightly in your lap. Jungkook settled across from you, leaving careful space between you, but his eyes never left your face.

You swallowed hard. “Kook… what happened last week can never happen again. It was a mistake. I was hurting, the fight with Taehyung was fresh, and I was vulnerable. But I love him. He’s your best friend. We crossed a line we had no right to cross.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, jaw flexing. He ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the floor. “I know. I’ve been sick over it. He’s like a brother to me. Every time I think about looking him in the eye, I feel like the worst person alive.” His voice was heavy, genuine. “You’re right. It has to stop. We bury it. Pretend it never happened.”

Relief flooded through you, cool and fleeting. He agreed. This nightmare could end here. But the silence that followed stretched too long, thick with everything unsaid. Your mind betrayed you first.

“I still can’t stop thinking about how slow we went,” you whispered, almost against your will. “The way you held me… like I mattered. Like nothing else existed.”

Jungkook’s breath caught. His eyes darkened, pupils blowing wide. “Yeah?” His voice dropped lower. “I keep remembering how you sank down on me… so wet, so tight. The way your walls fluttered every time I hit that spot deep inside. Fuck… I’ve jerked off to that memory every night since.”

Heat flashed through your body like lightning. Your thighs pressed together instinctively. “The way you looked at me when I came,” you continued, voice trembling. “Like you were feeling it too.”

“I was,” he rasped. “I felt everything. Every little gasp, every roll of your hips, the way you clenched around my cock when you fell apart. I’ve never come that hard in my life.”

The air between you crackled, electric and dangerous. You leaned forward slightly at the same time he did. “We shouldn’t,” you breathed, even as your body leaned closer.

“I know,” he growled, but his hand was already reaching for you.

The distance vanished in a heartbeat. Jungkook pulled you up and into his arms, mouths crashing together in a desperate, starving kiss. This wasn’t the tender exploration of last week. This was weeks of guilt, longing, and frustration exploding all at once. Tongues tangled, teeth nipped, hands roamed frantically. He walked you backward down the hallway without breaking the kiss, kicking his bedroom door open.

Clothes came off in a frenzied blur, your sweater yanked over your head, his hoodie tossed aside, pants and underwear shoved down and kicked away. By the time your back hit his bed, you were both completely naked, skin flushed and burning. Jungkook climbed over you like a man possessed, eyes blazing with raw hunger. He hooked his hands behind your knees and pushed your legs up and over his broad shoulders, folding you nearly in half beneath him. The position left you completely open, vulnerable, and aching.

He gripped his thick cock, dragging the swollen head through your slick folds once, twice, teasing your entrance. Then he thrust in— hard. One powerful snap of his hips buried him to the hilt inside you. You cried out sharply at the sudden, breathtaking stretch, your walls fluttering wildly around his girth. He didn’t pause. He pulled back almost to the tip and slammed in again, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm that made the headboard slam rhythmically against the wall.

“Fuck— Jungkook!” you sobbed, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks.

He groaned deep in his chest, the sound animalistic. “So fucking tight. So wet for me. God, this pussy was made for my cock.” His hips snapped forward relentlessly, fast, deep, almost feral. The new angle had him dragging against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, the head of his cock kissing your cervix and sending white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine. Skin slapped loudly against skin. Sweat slicked your bodies. His balls smacked against your ass with every powerful drive.

Nothing like the slow, romantic first time. This was pure, unrestrained need, a week of denial poured into every brutal thrust. He fucked you like he was trying to erase the guilt, like he could fuck his name into your soul. Your legs shook over his shoulders, toes curling in the air. Every drag of his thick cock sent sparks exploding behind your eyelids.

“You feel even better than I remembered,” he growled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark you’d have to hide later. “So deep, shit, I’m so deep inside you, baby.”

You couldn’t form words anymore. Only broken moans and whimpers spilled from your lips as he pounded into you, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the room. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly, white-hot and devastating. When you came, it hit you like a freight train, your walls clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as your entire body seized.

Jungkook followed right after with a guttural moan, burying himself as deep as he could go and spilling inside you in hot, thick ropes. His hips stuttered through the aftershocks, grinding against you as he emptied every drop.

You stayed locked together, breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other. Slowly, he lowered your legs, but he didn’t pull out. He collapsed half on top of you, forehead pressed to yours, eyes closed like he was savoring the connection.

“We’re so fucked,” he whispered after a long silence.

You let out a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Yeah… we are.”

Neither of you suggested stopping again.

And so it began.

What was meant to be the final goodbye became the second time, then the third, then an addiction neither of you could quit. Over the following weeks and months, you found yourself at Jungkook’s door again and again. The excuses started weak—“I just need to talk”—but soon you stopped pretending altogether. You would text him a single “now?” and he would reply with his door code.

The encounters grew more intense, more varied, more dangerous.

One rainy afternoon he took you on the kitchen counter. He sat you on the edge, spread your legs wide, and fucked you slow and deep while staring into your eyes, whispering how perfect you felt, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you even when he was with Taehyung. Another night he bent you over his gaming desk, pounding into you from behind while one hand reached around to circle your clit until you were sobbing his name. You rode him in his desk chair, grinding down on his cock while his hands guided your hips and his mouth worshipped your breasts.

He ate you out on the dining table for nearly an hour, tongue and fingers working you until your thighs shook uncontrollably and you begged him to fuck you properly. In the shower you clung to him as he held you against the tiled wall, water cascading over your joined bodies while he thrust up into you. In the backseat of his car in a deserted parking garage, windows fogged, you straddled him desperately because you couldn’t wait the extra ten minutes to get upstairs.

With every new position, every new location, the sex evolved. It stopped being just release and became something deeper, more intimate. He started staying inside you after he came, holding you close, tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. You talked for hours between rounds— about childhood dreams, fears of the future, silly stories that made you both laugh until your stomachs hurt. He comforted you when you cried after arguments with Taehyung. He listened when you admitted how lost you sometimes felt in your own relationship. He looked at you like you were the center of his universe.

And somewhere in the quiet moments after mind-blowing orgasms, you fell in love with him.

It happened gradually, terrifyingly. You started craving not just his body but his presence, his laugh, his gentle teasing, the way he made you feel truly seen. You caught yourself smiling at your phone when his name appeared. You found yourself comparing Taehyung’s gentle kisses to Jungkook’s consuming ones. The guilt never disappeared, but it became background noise, drowned out by the overwhelming love and pleasure you felt in Jungkook’s arms.

You were in love with your boyfriend's best friend. and then, you were— you were Taehyung's fiance.

The night he proposed was one you'd never forget. The elegant Italian restaurant glowed under warm amber lighting, crystal chandeliers casting soft golden patterns across crisp white tablecloths and polished silverware. The air carried the rich aroma of garlic, fresh basil, aged wine, and seared butter — the kind of scent that made every breath feel indulgent. Soft jazz played in the background, mingling with the low murmur of conversation and occasional laughter from surrounding tables. It was the perfect setting for a special night, or so everyone believed.

Your mother sat across from you, elegant in her cream blouse, chatting animatedly with Chaewon, your best friend, who kept shooting you knowing little smiles. Taehyung was in his element— charming, bright, laughing easily as he poured more wine for everyone. And then there was Jungkook, seated diagonally across from you, his usual easy smile nowhere to be found. His jaw was tight, brows furrowed, dark eyes clouded with something raw and anguished. He kept glancing at you, then at Taehyung, then down at his plate, fingers white-knuckled around the stem of his wine glass. He knew. Somehow, in the way only someone who had been tangled in your secret for months could know, he sensed what was coming tonight.

You hadn’t planned to sneak away with him. Not here, not with everyone present. But the tension had been unbearable from the moment you all sat down. Under the table, Jungkook’s foot had brushed yours once, twice, then stayed pressed against your ankle. When Taehyung excused himself briefly to speak with the waiter about a special dessert, Jungkook’s eyes met yours, dark, desperate, pleading. You gave the smallest nod.

The two of you slipped away separately, hearts racing. You waited in the dimly lit hallway near the restrooms for what felt like an eternity before his hand closed around your wrist and pulled you into the single-occupancy bathroom at the end of the corridor. The door locked with a quiet click.

There was no time for tenderness tonight.

Jungkook spun you around, pressing your front against the cool marble counter, your reflection staring back at you, flushed cheeks, wide eyes, swollen lips. He hiked your elegant black dress up around your waist in one rough motion, yanking your lace panties down just enough. You heard the metallic sound of his belt, the rasp of his zipper, and then he was pushing inside you, thick, hard, and urgent.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your ear, one hand covering your mouth to muffle your moan as he bottomed out in a single thrust. “So wet already… you’ve been thinking about me all night, haven’t you?”

You could only nod frantically, pushing back against him. He fucked you hard and fast, hips snapping forward with desperate intensity. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed quietly in the small space, drowned out by the restaurant’s ambient noise just beyond the door. One of his hands gripped your hip hard enough to bruise while the other reached around to rub tight, frantic circles over your clit. It was quick, dirty, and devastatingly good. Within minutes you were coming hard around him, biting down on his fingers to stay silent as pleasure ripped through you. Jungkook followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a choked groan, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades.

For a few seconds you both just breathed— ragged, guilty, addicted. He kissed the back of your neck softly, almost apologetically, before pulling out. You quickly fixed your panties and smoothed down your dress while he tucked himself away and washed his hands. Your eyes met in the mirror. His were tormented.

“We should get back,” you whispered.

He nodded, jaw clenched. “Yeah.”

You returned to the table one after the other, trying to look casual. Taehyung was already back, smiling warmly as he pulled your chair out for you. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering sweetly against your skin.

“There you are,” he murmured affectionately. “Missed you for a second.”

You forced a smile, cheeks still warm from the bathroom. “Just freshening up.”

Chaewon raised an eyebrow at you but said nothing. Your mother continued talking. Jungkook stared down at his plate of half-eaten risotto, fork gripped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles had gone white. His expression was twisted— anguish, jealousy, heartbreak, and self-loathing all etched into the sharp lines of his face. He looked like a man watching his entire world prepare to slip away.

The conversation flowed around you. Taehyung’s hand rested warmly on your thigh under the table, thumb stroking gentle circles. You laughed when you were supposed to, nodded at stories about old memories, sipped your wine to steady your nerves. But every time you glanced at Jungkook, your heart cracked a little more. He barely spoke. When he did, his voice was tight, clipped.

Finally, as dessert plates were being cleared and another bottle of wine opened, Taehyung stood up. The table quieted. Your stomach dropped like a stone. He turned to you, eyes shining with love and nervous excitement. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee right there beside your chair. The entire restaurant seemed to hold its breath. Soft gasps and murmurs rose from nearby tables as people realized what was happening.

Your mother’s hands flew to her mouth. Chaewon grinned widely, already pulling out her phone to record.

Taehyung took your left hand in both of his, his touch warm and steady. From his pocket he produced a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a stunning diamond ring that caught the chandelier light and sparkled like starlight. It was beautiful. Perfect. Everything you should have wanted.

“Baby,” he began, voice thick with emotion, “from the moment I met you, I knew my life would never be the same. You make every day brighter. You make me want to be better. I want to spend every tomorrow with you— building a home, chasing dreams, growing old together. I love you more than words can say.” His eyes glistened. “Will you marry me?”

Time slowed.

Your mind spun wildly. Saying no would shatter everything. It would break Taehyung’s heart in front of your mother, your best friend, and half the restaurant. It would destroy years of shared memories, plans, stability. Your career, your social circle, the life you had so carefully built— all of it intertwined with him. People would ask questions. Rumors would spread. You would lose the safety net you had clung to for years.

Your gaze flickered desperately to Jungkook.

He sat frozen, head bowed, staring down at the tablecloth. His fork was clenched so tightly in his fist that it looked like it might bend. His shoulders were tense, jaw locked, chest barely rising with each shallow breath. He wouldn’t look at you. He couldn’t. The anguish on his face was so raw it hurt to see.

You looked back at Taehyung— kind, loving Taehyung, on his knee with nothing but hope and devotion in his eyes.

Your throat tightened. The word you wanted to say— no, lodged somewhere deep inside you, trapped beneath layers of fear and guilt and years of momentum. Instead, you whispered, voice barely audible yet somehow carrying across the silent table, “Yes.”

The restaurant erupted in applause. Taehyung’s face lit up with pure joy as he slid the ring onto your finger. He rose and pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply in front of everyone. Your mother was crying happy tears. Chaewon cheered. Cameras flashed from nearby tables.

You smiled. You laughed. You hugged him back.

But inside, something vital fractured.

Later that night, back in your shared apartment, the guilt sat like lead in your chest.

Taehyung made love to you slowly, reverently, the way he always did on important nights. Candles flickered on the nightstand. Soft music played low in the background. He kissed every inch of your skin like you were something sacred, whispering “I love you” between each touch. When he finally slid inside you, it was gentle, familiar, comforting, safe.

But all you could think about was Jungkook’s desperate thrusts in the bathroom earlier, the way he had filled you so completely, the anguished look on his face at dinner. Tears slipped silently down your cheeks as Taehyung moved above you, slow and deep and loving.

He noticed the tears and misunderstood completely. A tender smile crossed his face as he brushed them away with his thumbs, still rocking into you gently. “Are you crying because it feels good, baby?” he murmured, voice husky with affection. He kissed the tears from your cheeks, then your eyelids, then your lips. “I’ve got you. Let it out. I love making you feel this way.”

You nodded, unable to speak, fresh tears falling faster. He took it as overwhelming emotion from the proposal, from the intensity of the moment. He held you closer, hips rolling languidly, murmuring sweet nothings against your skin. When you came, it was quiet and bittersweet, more from emotional exhaustion than pleasure. Taehyung followed soon after, groaning your name softly as he spilled inside you.

Afterward, he pulled you into his arms, spooning you from behind and pressing kisses to your shoulder. “My fiancée,” he whispered happily, already drifting off. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

You lay there in the dark, his warm breath against your neck, the new ring heavy on your finger. Silent sobs shook your body long after he fell asleep. The guilt was suffocating. You had said yes to a future you no longer wanted, all while carrying the scent of his best friend on your skin.

Jungkook’s tormented face flashed behind your closed eyelids again and again.

You had never felt more lost.

Present day.

The supply closet door creaked open just a sliver. You peered out, heart still racing from the aftershocks of what had just happened. The hallway was mercifully empty— no lingering guests, no staff rushing by with trays. Only the distant hum of the rehearsal dinner setup floated toward you: silverware clinking, soft laughter, the low murmur of voices echoing off the high ceilings of the venue. You slipped out quickly, smoothing down the front of your rehearsal dress with trembling hands. Your thighs still felt slick, your core pleasantly sore, and the faint scent of Jungkook’s cologne clung to your skin like evidence you couldn’t erase.

You paused at a decorative mirror hanging on the corridor wall, checking your reflection one final time. Lips slightly swollen but hidden under fresh lipstick. Hair mostly back in place, though one strand still looked a little too mussed. Cheeks flushed, but you could blame that on the warm venue lighting or a glass of champagne. You took a slow, steadying breath, forcing your expression into something calm and bridal. The diamond on your finger caught the light mockingly as you turned and walked back toward the main hall.

No one seemed to notice your absence. Or if they did, they didn’t care. The venue buzzed with pre-dinner energy, florists making last-minute adjustments to centerpieces, waitstaff filling water glasses, family members chatting in small clusters. You spotted Taehyung immediately. He was standing near the head table, looking unfairly handsome in his tailored navy suit, laughing at something Namjoon said. The moment he saw you, his whole face lit up.

“There you are, baby,” he said warmly, crossing the distance in a few strides. His arms wrapped around you before you could prepare yourself, pulling you into a tight, loving hug. One hand rubbed soothing circles on your lower back while the other tilted your chin up gently. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, then another to your temple, exactly where Jungkook’s breath had ghosted earlier. “I was starting to wonder where my beautiful almost-wife disappeared to. The rehearsal dinner’s about to start. Everything okay?”

You smiled up at him, the motion automatic after months of practice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a minute to breathe. It’s all a little overwhelming.”

Taehyung’s eyes softened with understanding. “I know. But tonight’s going to be perfect. Tomorrow’s going to be perfect. Because I get to marry you.” He kissed your forehead again, then laced his fingers through yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he led you toward the long head table.

The seating arrangement had been planned meticulously. You sat near the center, with Chaewon— your maid of honor, on your immediate right. Next to her were your other bridesmaids: Jennie, glowing in a sleek emerald dress, and a couple of college friends who chatted excitedly about the florals. Across the table sat Taehyung’s groomsmen, Yoongi looking effortlessly cool in all black, Namjoon with his dimpled smile, and a few others. And directly across from you, of course, was Jungkook. Best man. Taehyung’s closest friend. The man who had just fucked you senseless in a supply closet less than ten minutes ago.

You did everything possible not to look at him.

Taehyung pulled your chair out for you like the perfect gentleman, then took his seat beside you, immediately draping an arm along the back of your chair. His fingers found yours again under the table, thumb stroking over your engagement ring as if reminding you, or himself that this was real. He leaned toward Yoongi and Namjoon, launching into an easy conversation about some new whiskey Namjoon had discovered on a recent trip. Their laughter rolled over the table, warm and familiar.

You kept your gaze fixed on your water glass, on the delicate gold rim of your plate, on the beautiful floral arrangement in the center of the table, anywhere but across from you. Still, you could feel Jungkook’s presence like a physical weight. The heat of his stare. The way his shoulders filled out his black button-up. The faint redness on the side of his neck that you knew you’d left there with your teeth.

Chaewon nudged your side gently. “You good? You look a little flushed.”

“Just the wine,” you lied with a small laugh, lifting your glass as proof.

Before anyone could press further, Jennie leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that only you and Chaewon could hear. Her eyes sparkled with gossip. “Okay, you guys are never going to believe this. Wonyoung just told me she heard two people straight-up fucking in one of the supply closets a little while ago.”

Chaewon gasped, hand flying to her mouth in dramatic shock. “No way. During the rehearsal dinner? That’s insane. Who would be bold enough?”

Your face drained of color. Ice-cold dread flooded your veins, turning your stomach into a tight knot. Your fingers tightened around the stem of your wine glass until you worried it might snap. They know. Oh God, they know. The room suddenly felt too loud, too bright, too small. You forced yourself to breathe slowly, keeping your expression neutral even as panic clawed up your throat.

Jennie shrugged, clearly enjoying the scandal. “Wonyoung said she heard moaning and the shelf rattling. She tried to be sneaky and wait to see who came out, but she got bored after a couple minutes. The only person she actually saw leave was Jungkook. The girl, whoever she was, took too long, so Wonyoung gave up and came back to the table.”

Chaewon made a disgusted yet amused face, leaning back in her chair. “Of course it was Jungkook. Leave it to him to sneak off and fuck some random girl right before his best friend’s wedding rehearsal. The man has zero shame. I swear, he’s going to end up causing drama at the actual wedding if he’s not careful.”

You swallowed hard, forcing a weak chuckle that sounded fake even to your own ears. “Come on, guys. We don’t know for sure it was him doing anything. Maybe he just… needed something from the closet. Or maybe Wonyoung misheard. These old buildings have weird acoustics.”

Chaewon turned to you with a weird, skeptical look, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched. “Since when do you defend Jungkook’s hook-up habits? You’ve literally complained about his ‘playboy phase’ with me a dozen times.”

Jennie giggled, already moving on. “Maybe it was one of the catering staff. Or that cute bridesmaid from Taehyung’s cousin’s side? God, I hope it wasn’t. Can you imagine the drama if someone finds out?”

The two of them launched into eager speculation, voices low but animated, throwing out names and possibilities while laughing behind their hands. You sat there frozen, smiling stiffly when they looked at you, nodding along like you were just as amused. Inside, your mind screamed. Every beat of your heart felt like a countdown. The memory of Jungkook’s cock buried deep inside you, his hand over your mouth, his whispered “so fucking perfect” still echoed in your ears while your fiancé held your hand lovingly under the table.

Taehyung squeezed your fingers, completely oblivious, still deep in conversation with Namjoon about honeymoon destinations. “What do you think, babe? Beach or mountains?”

“Beach sounds nice,” you murmured, forcing warmth into your voice.

Across the table, you couldn’t resist anymore. Your eyes lifted.

Jungkook was already watching you. His gaze was intense, dark, and unapologetic. He hadn’t touched his food. His fork rested beside his plate, forgotten. Those familiar eyes, the same ones that had looked at you with lust and something far deeper in the closet, bored straight into you. He didn’t smile. He didn’t look away. He simply stared, jaw tight, like he was daring the entire room to notice. Like he didn’t care if they did. One of his hands rested on the table, fingers drumming once, slowly, as if remembering how they’d gripped your thigh earlier.

The heat in his stare made your core clench involuntarily, a fresh rush of slick mixing with what he’d left inside you. Guilt and desire twisted together so tightly you felt dizzy. You looked away first, cheeks burning, focusing instead on the way Taehyung’s thumb kept stroking your knuckles.

The rehearsal dinner continued around you— toasts starting soon, servers bringing out the first course, laughter rising and falling like waves. But inside your chest, everything felt like it was fracturing. Tomorrow you would walk down the aisle. Tomorrow you would promise forever to the man beside you. And the man across from you, the one still staring like he owned every broken piece of your heart, would be standing right there watching it happen.

The rehearsal dinner wound down slowly, like the final notes of a song that had gone on just a little too long. Laughter gradually softened into tired goodbyes, chairs scraped against the polished floors, and the warm glow of string lights overhead began to feel almost too intimate. Plates were cleared, half-empty wine glasses collected, and the wedding party slowly migrated toward the connected hotel lobby in a cheerful, slightly tipsy procession. Hugs and promises to meet bright and early tomorrow filled the air. Your mother kissed your cheek and whispered how proud she was. Chaewon squeezed your hand and reminded you she’d be there first thing in the morning to help you get ready. Everyone was glowing with excitement.

Everyone except you.

A heavy fog of exhaustion and dread clung to your bones as you walked beside Taehyung through the elegant hotel corridors. The plush carpet muffled your footsteps, but nothing could muffle the storm raging inside your chest. Jungkook lingered somewhere behind the group with the other groomsmen— you hadn’t dared look back at him since that intense stare across the dinner table. The memory of his eyes on you still burned.

True to old-fashioned wedding tradition, you and Taehyung were to spend the night apart. No shared suite, no last-minute intimacy. Just one final night as fiancés before tomorrow made everything permanent.

Your group reached the executive floor where the bridal and groom parties had been booked. Doors lined the quiet hallway, each marked with elegant gold numbers. Taehyung’s suite was three doors down from yours. The others said their final goodnights, waving and calling out teasing reminders not to stay up too late thinking about each other. Slowly, the hallway emptied until it was just the two of you standing outside your door.

Taehyung turned to face you fully, the soft hallway lighting casting gentle shadows across his handsome face. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen, eyes warm, smile soft and full of love. Your heart clenched so hard it hurt.

He stepped closer, cupping your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed tenderly over your cheeks as he leaned in and kissed you deeply. It wasn’t a quick goodnight peck. This was slow, reverent, full of promise. His lips moved against yours with familiar affection, tongue gently teasing until you parted for him. You tasted the red wine from dinner on his tongue, felt the steady warmth of his body pressing close. One of his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice was low and thick with emotion. “God, I love you. I can’t believe tomorrow is finally here. I get to marry the love of my life. My best friend. My everything.” He kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead, then your lips again, softer this time. “I’ve been dreaming about this day since the moment I proposed. I can’t wait to watch you walk down that aisle toward me. I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “I love you too, Taehyung,” you whispered, the words tasting both true and bitterly false at the same time. “I can’t wait either.”

But inside, a mountain-sized rock of fear and doubt sat heavy in your stomach, pressing against your lungs and making it hard to breathe. Tomorrow you would stand in front of family, friends, and God, and promise forever to this man while carrying the weight of months of betrayal. While the memory of Jungkook’s hands, his mouth, his body still lingered on your skin. The thought of saying “I do” felt like stepping off a cliff. What kind of life were you building on such a rotten foundation? What if you ruined him? What if you ruined yourself?

You pushed the thoughts away violently, locking them behind a mental door you refused to open tonight. Not now. Not when Taehyung was looking at you like this.

He smiled against your lips, then leaned in closer, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. His voice dropped into that husky, intimate register that always made your stomach flutter. “You have no idea how badly I wish I could take you into that room right now,” he murmured, breath warm against your skin. “How much I want to peel this dress off you, lay you down on that big bed, and fuck you slow and deep until you’re moaning my name. I’ve been thinking about it all night… how perfect you’d feel wrapped around me on the night before our wedding.”

A shiver ran through you, part guilt, part muscle memory from the supply closet earlier. You played along, letting out a soft, breathy laugh as you slid your arms around his neck. “Tae… you’re going to make this separation even harder,” you whispered back, kissing the corner of his jaw. “But you’re right. We’ll have forever after tomorrow. All the nights we want.”

He groaned quietly, pulling you into another deep kiss, this one edged with restrained hunger. His hands roamed your back, pressing you closer, and for a moment you let yourself sink into the familiarity of him, the safety, the love, the life you had chosen. When he finally stepped back, his eyes were dark with want but shining with pure happiness.

“One more night,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Then you’re mine forever. Sleep well, my beautiful bride. Dream of me.”

“I will,” you lied gently.

He kissed you one last time, slow, lingering, full of quiet devotion, before pulling away with visible reluctance. He walked backward a few steps, still watching you with that bright, loving smile, then turned and disappeared into his own suite a few doors down. The soft click of his door closing echoed in the now-empty hallway.

You stood there alone for a long moment, keycard clutched tightly in your fingers, staring at the polished wood of your own door. The mountain in your stomach grew heavier. Your thighs still ached faintly from Jungkook. Your lips still tingled from Taehyung. Two completely different kinds of kisses, two completely different kinds of love, one safe and warm, the other dangerous and all-consuming, warred inside you until you felt dizzy.

Finally, you slipped the keycard into the lock and pushed the door open. The luxurious suite welcomed you with soft lighting, a king-sized bed piled with crisp white linens, and a breathtaking view of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. It should have felt like a dream. Instead, it felt like a beautifully decorated cage.

You closed the door behind you, leaned back against it, and let out a shaky breath. Tomorrow was coming whether you were ready or not.

You had been lying in the massive king-sized bed for what felt like an eternity, though the clock on the nightstand insisted it had only been forty-three minutes. The silk sheets were cool against your skin at first, but now they clung to your legs like a second, suffocating layer. No matter how many times you flipped the pillow to the cool side, no matter how you rearranged your body— on your back, curled on your side, sprawled on your stomach— sleep refused to come. Your mind was a hurricane, relentless and loud, every thought crashing into the next with brutal force.

Tomorrow.

The word echoed like a death knell. Tomorrow you would walk down a petal-strewn aisle in a dress that had cost more than most people’s cars. Tomorrow you would stand in front of two hundred people and promise forever to Kim Taehyung. Tomorrow you would become someone’s wife.

And tonight, your body still carried the ghost of Jeon Jungkook.

You could still feel the faint ache between your thighs from the supply closet. The taste of his kiss lingered on your lips beneath the mint of toothpaste. His scent, clean, woody, faintly sweet, seemed embedded in your skin no matter how many times you’d showered. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face at dinner: that anguished stare across the table, the way his knuckles had gone white around his fork.

You and Jungkook had never truly talked about it.

Not once in all those stolen months had either of you said the words “I love you.” The relationship, if it could even be called that, had existed in heated silences, desperate touches, and late-night conversations that danced around the edges of real feelings. You’d talk about music, about childhood memories, about fears of failure and dreams you were too scared to chase. You’d laugh until your stomachs hurt, then fuck like the world was ending. But love? That word had always stayed locked behind teeth and bitten lips, too dangerous to release.

Still, you knew.

You loved him. God, you loved him in a way that felt terrifying and inevitable, like gravity. You loved the way he looked at you like you were the only real thing in his universe. You loved how he remembered tiny details no one else noticed. You loved the way he touched you— like worship and ruin all at once. And deep down, in the quietest part of your heart, you were almost certain he loved you back. The way he held you after sex, the way his voice would crack when he said your name in the dark, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching… it was all there.

But love wasn’t enough. Not when it was built on lies and betrayal. You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life sneaking around, stealing moments, destroying two people who didn’t deserve it. Tonight had to be the end. One final goodbye, then you would lock your heart away and become the wife Taehyung deserved.

The decision settled over you like cold steel.

You sat up abruptly, heart hammering. The city lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows blurred through the tears gathering in your eyes. You didn’t bother with a robe, just grabbed the hotel keycard and slipped on the soft hotel slippers. Your silk nightdress brushed against your thighs as you moved silently to the door. The hallway was quiet, dimmed for the night, the carpet plush underfoot. Every step felt like walking toward the edge of a cliff.

Jungkook’s room was only two floors up. You took the stairs instead of the elevator, needing the movement to steady your nerves. By the time you reached his door, your hands were shaking so badly you almost dropped the keycard twice. You stood there for a long moment, forehead pressed against the cool wood, breathing through the panic.

Then you knocked. Soft. Hesitant. Barely audible.

You heard movement inside, sheets rustling, footsteps padding across the floor. The door opened. Jungkook stood there in nothing but black sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair messy from tossing and turning of his own. His eyes widened in genuine shock when he saw you. For a second, neither of you moved. The hallway light spilled into his dimly lit suite, highlighting the sharp lines of his collarbones, the faint red marks your nails had left on his shoulder earlier.

You didn’t wait for an invitation. You stepped forward, gently pushing the door wider, and slipped inside. Jungkook closed it behind you with a quiet click, the sound final in the heavy silence. No words passed between you. You stood just inside the room, staring at him. He stared back. The air felt thick, charged with everything unsaid for months. The king bed behind him was rumpled, one pillow tossed aside like he’d been struggling to sleep too. A single lamp cast a warm, golden glow across the space, catching on the sharp angles of his face and the tension in his jaw.

You moved first, walking slowly to the edge of the bed and sitting down. The mattress dipped under your weight. Tears welled up instantly, hot and stinging, blurring your vision. You tried to hold them back, but one slipped free, rolling down your cheek.

Jungkook was on his knees in front of you before you could draw another breath.

He moved with that quiet, graceful speed he always had, dropping down between your legs, hands coming up to cradle your face with heartbreaking gentleness. His thumbs brushed away the tears as they fell, warm and calloused from years of playing guitar and working out. His dark eyes searched yours, full of worry and something deeper, something that made your chest ache even worse.

“Baby… what’s wrong?” he whispered, voice rough with sleep and emotion. “Talk to me. Please.”

You shook your head, lips trembling. More tears spilled over. “This has to be the last time, Jungkook,” you managed, voice cracking. “Tonight. This… us. It has to end. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t marry him tomorrow while I’m still… while we’re still—”

Your words dissolved into a quiet sob. You cried harder, shoulders shaking, the weight of months of guilt and love and fear crashing down all at once.

Jungkook’s face crumpled. His own eyes glistened as he continued wiping your tears away with careful thumbs, like he could erase the pain if he was gentle enough. “Okay,” he whispered, voice wavering badly. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Okay… if that’s what you need. I’ll… I’ll let you go.”

The words sounded like they physically hurt him to say. His hands trembled against your cheeks. He stayed on his knees, looking up at you like you were his whole world breaking apart right in front of him. You cried harder, leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. Your hands came up to clutch at his bare shoulders, nails digging in like you could anchor yourself to him one last time. The sobs came freely now, quiet but devastating. Jungkook wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing his face into your stomach as he held you through it. His own breathing was shaky, uneven.

After a long stretch of silence broken only by your quiet crying, he pulled back just enough to look up at you again. His eyes were red-rimmed, devastatingly beautiful in their pain. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear with infinite tenderness.

Then, so softly you almost thought you’d imagined it, he whispered:

“Don’t marry him.”

The words hung between you like smoke. Time seemed to stop. Your breath caught in your throat. Jungkook’s eyes never left yours, raw and pleading and full of a love he had never dared speak out loud until this moment. His hands stayed on your waist, thumbs stroking slow circles through the silk of your nightdress, grounding and desperate all at once.

You stared down at him, heart shattering into a thousand pieces. Then you pulled back slightly, staring at him through tear-blurred vision. Your heart stuttered. “What… what do you mean?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, cracking on the last word.

Jungkook didn’t look away. His hands stayed on your waist, thumbs stroking slow, desperate circles through the silk of your nightdress. “I mean don’t marry him,” he repeated, louder this time, voice thick with emotion. “Don’t do it, baby. Please.”

You shook your head frantically, fresh tears spilling over. “Jungkook… I don’t have a choice.”

“You do,” he said immediately, eyes pleading. “You have a choice. Right now. Right here.”

A broken sound escaped your throat. You pulled away from his touch, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that could hold you together. “No, I don’t. Everyone would hate me. My family, his family, our friends… they’ve all poured so much into this wedding. Into us. I can’t destroy everything like that. I can’t do that to Taehyung. He doesn’t deserve this. None of them do.”

Jungkook stayed on his knees for another moment, watching you unravel. Then frustration flickered across his face. He pushed himself up abruptly, running both hands through his hair, tugging at the dark strands in clear agitation. He paced two steps away, then turned back to you, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“But what about what you want?” he asked, voice rough and edged with pain. “What about you? For once in all of this… what do you actually want?” You looked at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. The truth sat on your tongue like fire: You. I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long it feels like I’m drowning. But the words wouldn’t come. Admitting it would make everything real. It would make the pain sharper, the consequences unavoidable.

So instead of answering, you stood up. Jungkook watched you, breath caught, waiting. You closed the distance between you in two shaky steps. Your hands came up to cup his face, thumbs brushing over his sharp cheekbones. For one heartbeat, you just looked at him — memorizing the way his dark eyes searched yours, the slight tremble in his jaw, the love and heartbreak written so clearly across his features.

Then you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was deep, desperate, and devastating, all the things you couldn’t say poured into the press of your lips. Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging him closer as your mouth moved against his with raw hunger and sorrow. Jungkook groaned into the kiss, hands gripping your waist almost painfully as he kissed you back like it was the last time. Because it was.

Tongues tangled. Breaths mingled. Tears slipped from your eyes and mixed between your lips. The kiss tasted like salt and goodbye. You poured every unsaid “I love you,” every stolen moment, every future you could never have into it. Jungkook held you like he was trying to memorize the feel of you, like he could keep you here forever if he kissed you hard enough.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing hard. Your forehead rested against his for one final second. Then you turned and walked toward the door. A sob caught in your throat, thick and painful, threatening to break free. You didn’t let it. You kept your back straight, shoulders tense, even as your vision blurred with fresh tears.

Jungkook didn’t try to stop you. You heard him take one shaky step forward, then stop. “Please…” he whispered, voice wrecked. You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. You opened the door and slipped into the hallway, the cool air hitting your tear-streaked face like a slap. The sob finally escaped the moment the door clicked shut behind you, a broken, muffled sound that you tried to swallow as you hurried back toward the stairs.

Your bare feet moved quickly over the carpet. Tears fell freely now, dripping onto the silk of your nightdress. Every step away from him felt like tearing your own heart out. You pressed a hand to your chest as if that could ease the pain, but it only made it worse.

By the time you reached your own floor, your shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. You slipped back into your cold, empty suite, closed the door, and leaned against it, sliding slowly down until you were sitting on the floor.

The ring on your finger felt heavier than ever.

The morning light filtered through the sheer white curtains of the bridal suite like a soft, golden promise. It was supposed to be the most beautiful day of your life, the kind of day people wrote songs about, the kind of day you had spent months planning down to the last petal and place card. Instead, it felt like the heaviest weight you had ever carried.

You had barely slept. After slipping back into your own suite last night, you had curled up on the cold floor by the door for what felt like hours, sobbing until your chest ached and your eyes burned raw. Eventually exhaustion had pulled you into the bed, but the sheets still smelled faintly of the hotel laundry and nothing like home. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Jungkook’s face, his tear-streaked cheeks, the raw desperation in his voice when he whispered “Don’t marry him,” the way his lips had moved against yours in that final, devastating kiss. The memory played on repeat, mixing with flashes of the supply closet yesterday, the storm night a year ago, every stolen moment that had led you here.

Now you sat in a high-backed velvet chair in front of a large vanity mirror, the room buzzing with excited energy all around you. The bridal suite was a whirlwind of satin, lace, laughter, and the sweet scent of fresh peonies overflowing from every available surface. Your mother flitted between the racks of dresses and the champagne station, chatting animatedly with the wedding planner. Jennie and the other bridesmaids lounged on the cream-colored sofas, sipping mimosas and scrolling through their phones, occasionally bursting into giggles. A photographer darted around capturing “candid” moments, someone adjusting a veil, someone else helping zip a bridesmaid dress. Soft classical music played from a speaker in the corner, but it all felt distant, like you were watching it happen to someone else through fogged glass.

Chaewon stood behind you, her fingers gentle but precise as she worked through your hair. She had insisted on doing your makeup and hair herself, “No one knows your face like I do,” she had said with a wink this morning, but right now her usual bright energy felt like it was pressing against a bruise you couldn’t hide. She had already curled and pinned half your hair into an elegant updo, soft tendrils framing your face exactly the way you had pictured it months ago when you’d chosen the style. The makeup artist had already done the base, flawless, glowing skin, subtle contour, the perfect neutral lip, but Chaewon was handling the finishing touches: the smoky eye that made your eyes look bigger, the highlighter that caught the light just right.

You stared at your reflection and hated what you saw.

The woman in the mirror looked beautiful. The silk robe with your new initials embroidered on the pocket, the diamond studs in your ears that Taehyung had given you last Christmas, the faint flush on your cheeks that could almost pass for bridal excitement. But your eyes were dull. The smile you kept trying to force felt plastic and wrong, like a mask that kept slipping no matter how hard you held it in place.

“Hold still, babe,” Chaewon murmured, carefully sweeping a fluffy brush across your cheekbone with setting powder. “You’re going to look insane when I’m done. Taehyung’s jaw is going to hit the floor the second he sees you.”

You tried to laugh. It came out small and hollow. “Yeah… I hope so.”

Chaewon paused, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror. She tilted her head, studying you the way only your best friend could, like she could see straight through the carefully constructed walls you had spent the last year building. The room’s chatter continued around you, but for a moment it felt like the two of you were in a bubble.

She set the brush down and leaned in closer, resting her forearms on the back of your chair so her face was level with yours. Her voice dropped low, soft enough that only you could hear over the background noise. “Hey… are you okay?”

You nodded immediately, plastering on the brightest fake smile you could manage. The muscles in your cheeks protested. “I’m fine. Really. Just… wedding day nerves, you know?”

Chaewon didn’t smile back. She searched your face for another long second, her perfectly winged liner making her eyes look even sharper. “You’ve been quiet all morning. Like, too quiet. And your smile keeps doing that thing where it doesn’t reach your eyes. I know you, remember? I’ve seen you fake it through finals week, through that horrible breakup in college, through every single time you tried to convince me you were okay when you weren’t.”

Your throat tightened. You could feel the tears from last night threatening to resurface, stinging behind your eyes. You blinked rapidly, forcing them back. “I’m just nervous,” you said, keeping your voice light. “Overthinking everything, like always. What if I trip walking down the aisle? What if the flowers aren’t right? What if I forget my vows?” The excuses tumbled out easily, practiced from months of hiding the truth.

Chaewon’s brow furrowed. She lowered her voice even more, almost a whisper now. “Is it cold feet? Like… actual cold feet? Because if it is, you can tell me. I’m your maid of honor. I’m supposed to be the one who helps you through this shit, even if it’s messy. We can slow everything down. We can talk to Taehyung. We can—”

“No,” you cut her off quickly, shaking your head so hard that one of the pinned curls almost slipped. You reached up and caught her wrist gently, squeezing it. “No cold feet. I swear. I love Taehyung. He’s… he’s good to me. He’s safe. He’s everything I’m supposed to want.” The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Safe. The same word you had used in your own head a thousand times. Safe, but not the one who made your heart feel like it was on fire. Not the one who had looked you in the eyes last night and begged you, in the softest voice imaginable, not to go through with this.

You forced another smile, wider this time, even though it hurt. “I’m just overthinking. The last year has been a lot, planning this whole thing, work, everything with Taehyung’s schedule. It’s all hitting me at once. But I’m happy. I promise.”

Chaewon studied you for another beat, clearly not convinced. Her thumb brushed over the back of your hand where it still held her wrist. “You know you can tell me anything, right? Even if it’s scary. Even if it changes things. I’ve got your back no matter what.”

The sincerity in her voice nearly broke you. For one wild second you considered it, telling her everything. The affair. The way Jungkook had fallen to his knees last night and whispered those three words that had shattered your entire world. Don’t marry him. How you had kissed him like your life depended on it and then run away like a coward. How you were sitting here in a wedding dress about to promise forever to the wrong man because the right one was standing on the other side of the aisle as his best man.

But the words stayed locked behind your teeth. You couldn’t destroy everything. Not today. Not when your mother was already tearing up in the corner watching you. Not when two hundred people were already seated in the garden waiting for you. Not when Taehyung was probably pacing in his own suite right now, smiling that bright, hopeful smile you had fallen for years ago.

“I know,” you whispered instead, squeezing her hand one more time before letting go. “Thank you. I really am okay. Just… help me finish my makeup so I don’t look like I cried all night?”

Chaewon hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line. She clearly wanted to push more, but the wedding planner chose that exact moment to clap her hands loudly from across the room.

“Ten minutes until we need the bride in the dress, ladies! Let’s get that veil on and do the final touch-ups!”

The bubble popped. Chaewon gave you one last searching look, then straightened up with a forced bright smile of her own. “You heard her. Time to make you the most beautiful bride this venue has ever seen.”

She went back to work, dabbing at your under eyes with a cool sponge to hide any remaining redness, then carefully placing the delicate lace veil into your updo. The fabric fluttered down around your shoulders like a cloud. Your mother came over, eyes already misty, and adjusted the veil with trembling fingers. “My baby girl,” she whispered, voice thick. “You look like a dream.”

You smiled at her reflection in the mirror, the same fake smile you had been wearing all morning. “Thanks, Mom.”

Jennie popped up beside you, holding up a glass of champagne. “One last sip for courage? Or is it bad luck before the aisle?”

You took the glass, mostly to give your hands something to do. The bubbles tickled your throat as you sipped, but it tasted like nothing. The room continued its happy chaos around you—bridesmaids zipping into their matching dresses, the photographer snapping more photos, your mother fussing over the hem of your gown as it was finally brought out on a rolling rack. The dress was everything you had once dreamed of: soft ivory silk, a fitted bodice with delicate beading, a long train that whispered against the carpet. It should have made you feel like a princess.

Instead, it felt like armor you were putting on for a battle you didn’t want to fight.

As Chaewon helped you step into the gown and began buttoning the long row of tiny pearls up your back, your mind drifted again. Last night’s kiss burned behind your eyelids. The way Jungkook’s hands had gripped your waist like he was drowning. The broken sound of his voice. What about what you want? You hadn’t answered him then, and you still couldn’t answer yourself now. Because the truth was too terrifying: what you wanted was him. All of him. The stolen nights, the laughter in the dark, the way he saw every broken piece of you and loved them anyway.

But wanting wasn’t enough. Not when it would ruin so many lives. “Almost done,” Chaewon murmured behind you, her voice soft again. She fastened the last button and stepped back to admire her work. “There. You’re perfect.”

The entire room turned to look at you. Gasps and soft cheers filled the air. Your mother covered her mouth, tears slipping free. Jennie raised her phone to take a video. The photographer clicked away furiously.

You stood there in the center of it all, the most beautiful bride anyone had ever seen, and felt absolutely nothing but dread. Before Chaewon could pull you aside for one more private question, you could see it in her eyes that she was about to try, the wedding planner appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand and a bright, efficient smile on her face.

“It’s time, everyone! The ceremony starts in twenty minutes. Bride, we need you in position for the processional. Let’s get you to the garden entrance.” The words landed like a final bell.

Chaewon squeezed your hand one last time, her expression still worried but resigned. “You’ve got this,” she whispered. “I love you.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Love you too.”

As the bridesmaids lined up in front of you, as your mother gave you one last tearful hug, as the veil was lowered gently over your face, you felt the mountain of everything you had been carrying finally settle into place.

This was it.

The best day of your life.

And all you could think about was the man waiting at the end of the aisle, not as your husband, but as the best man who had begged you, just last night, not to walk toward anyone else. The doors to the garden opened. Music swelled. Everyone turned to look. And you took the first step.

The first step down the aisle felt like stepping off solid ground into open air. Hundreds of eyes watched you, warm and adoring, but your own gaze kept betraying you. It flickered forward to Taehyung, standing tall at the altar in his perfectly tailored black tux, eyes already glistening with happy tears, that bright, boyish smile lighting up his entire face. Then, helplessly, it slid to the left.

To Jungkook.

He stood just behind Taehyung as best man, posture rigid, hands clasped tightly in front of him. The black suit fit him like it had been made for this exact moment of torment. His hair was styled neatly, jaw clean-shaven, but none of that hid the devastation carved into his features. His eyes, dark, red-rimmed, utterly shattered, locked onto yours the second you looked at him and refused to let go. A sinking feeling twisted deep in your stomach, heavy as lead.

Every step brought you closer. Your heels sank slightly into the white runner. The guests murmured how beautiful you looked, how radiant, how perfect. But all you could see was Jungkook’s face, the way his lips pressed into a thin, pained line, the subtle tremble in his shoulders, the way his eyes glistened like he was barely holding himself together. He looked at you like you were killing him. Like every step you took toward Taehyung was a knife sliding between his ribs.

You tried to look away. You really did. But your eyes kept returning to him, drawn like magnets. Flashbacks assaulted you with every heartbeat. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You blinked them back furiously, forcing a soft, trembling smile for the guests. Your father mistook it for emotion and patted your hand proudly.

Closer now. Ten steps. Five. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell faster. His jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumped. For one heartbeat, as you passed the front row, his eyes met yours fully and the pain in them was so raw, so open, that your knees nearly buckled. I love you, his gaze seemed to scream. Please don’t do this.

You reached the altar.

Your father kissed your cheek, then placed your hand in Taehyung’s. Taehyung’s fingers were warm, steady, loving. He squeezed gently and mouthed, “You look breathtaking.” His smile was so full of pure joy it hurt to look at.

Jungkook stood directly behind him, only a few feet away. You could feel the heat of his stare on the side of your face like a brand.

The officiant began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Kim Taehyung and…”

The words blurred. You stood facing Taehyung, bouquet lowered, veil soft over your vision, while every nerve in your body remained hyper-aware of the man standing just over his shoulder. Jungkook’s presence was a storm at your back. You could hear his shallow breathing, could almost feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

Taehyung looked at you like you were his entire universe. He mouthed “I love you” during the opening remarks. You tried to say it back. The words came out, but they felt hollow.

The ceremony moved forward, readings, a short sermon on love and commitment, the sharing of memories from friends. Laughter rippled through the guests at funny stories. You smiled when you were supposed to. Nodded. Squeezed Taehyung’s hands. But your mind kept screaming.

This is wrong. This is all wrong. Then came the moment. The officiant smiled warmly at the crowd. “If anyone here has any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

A respectful, anticipatory silence fell over the garden.

For three full heartbeats, nothing happened.

Then Jungkook moved.

He stepped forward, shoulders squared, voice cutting through the quiet like thunder.

“I do.”

Gasps erupted everywhere. Heads whipped around. A wave of horrified murmurs swept through the guests. Your mother’s hand flew to her mouth. Chaewon’s eyes widened in shock beside the other bridesmaids. Taehyung’s smile froze, then slowly fell as he turned toward his best friend.

Jungkook didn’t look at anyone else. His eyes were locked on you, burning, desperate, filled with months of suppressed love finally breaking free. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking but growing stronger with every word. “I’m so fucking sorry, Tae. But I can’t stand here and watch this happen without saying something. I’ve been in love with her for over a year.”

The crowd’s murmurs turned into outright shock. Someone dropped a phone. A few people stood up. Jungkook took another step closer, eyes never leaving yours. Tears slipped down your cheeks now, unchecked. The veil did nothing to hide them. “From that first night she showed up at my door in the rain, broken from a fight with you… I tried to fight it. I swear I did. But every stolen moment after that only made me fall harder. The way she laughs at my stupid jokes. The way she looks at me like I actually see her. The way she makes me want to be better. I love her in a way I’ve never loved anyone. Deep. All-consuming. The kind of love that ruins you.” His voice broke completely. “I know this destroys everything. I know I’m the worst friend in the world. But I can’t let her marry you while pretending I don’t feel this. I can’t forever hold my peace when my heart is screaming her name.”

Silence. Absolute, horrified silence. You stared at him, tears streaming freely now, chest heaving. The love in his eyes was devastating. Raw. Real. Everything you had been too scared to admit you wanted. Taehyung’s hand dropped yours. He looked between you and Jungkook, confusion melting into dawning horror, then white-hot anger and heartbreak all at once. His face crumpled. “What the hell is he talking about?” he asked you, voice low and trembling. “Baby… what is this?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out at first. “Taehyung, I—”

Jungkook stepped forward again, reaching toward his best friend. “Tae, please. This is my fault. I—”

Taehyung’s fist flew before Jungkook could finish.

The punch landed hard, right against Jungkook’s jaw with a sickening crack that echoed through the garden. Jungkook stumbled back, hand flying to his face. Blood instantly trickled from the corner of his mouth. Guests screamed. Chairs scraped. Chaos erupted. Taehyung stood there, chest heaving, eyes wild with betrayal and pain. “You son of a bitch,” he snarled, voice breaking. "How long?"

Jungkook didn’t fight back. He just stood there, blood on his lips, eyes still locked on you even as tears mixed with the red on his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, but the words were lost in the growing uproar. You stood frozen at the altar in your wedding dress, bouquet long forgotten on the ground, tears pouring down your face as the perfect day shattered around you in front of everyone you loved. The man you were supposed to marry had just punched his best friend. The man you were in love with had just torn everything apart in the most public, devastating way possible.

But Taehyung wasn’t done. Rage and heartbreak twisted his usually gentle features into something unrecognizable as he grabbed the front of Jungkook’s suit jacket with both hands and shoved him again, snarling through gritted teeth. “You fucking traitor—”

You moved without thinking, silk gown tangling around your legs as you surged between them. “Taehyung, stop! Please!” Your voice cracked, raw from hours of suppressed tears. You grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back, but he was stronger than you in his fury. His elbow jerked back sharply, shoving you hard.

You stumbled, heels catching in the runner. The world tilted. Strong arms caught you from behind— Jungkook’s arms— pulling you against his chest to keep you upright. His blood smeared across the shoulder of your pristine ivory gown as you gripped his suit jacket, breathing hard.

Every single person in the garden was staring at you now. Hundreds of eyes. Phones still recording. Gasps and horrified whispers rippling outward like shockwaves. Your mother looked faint. Jennie had her hands over her mouth. The officiant stood frozen with the bible clutched to his chest. And Chaewon… Chaewon stared at you like she didn’t even recognize you anymore.

Taehyung’s chest heaved as he looked at the two of you, his fiancée clinging to his best man, blood staining her wedding dress. His eyes were glassy with betrayal, pain, and fury so deep it looked like it might break him. “Is it true?” he demanded, voice low and trembling. “Everything he just said… all of it. Is it fucking true?”

You turned slowly in Jungkook’s arms, still gripping his jacket like it was the only thing keeping you standing. Your veil clung to your wet cheeks. The bouquet you’d been holding lay forgotten on the ground, petals crushed under panicked feet.

You met Taehyung’s eyes, those warm, loving eyes that had looked at you with nothing but devotion for years, and felt your heart splinter. “Yes,” you whispered, voice barely carrying but loud enough in the deadly silence. “It’s true.”

A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Someone cried out. Phones lowered slightly, then rose higher as people realized they were witnessing something historic in the worst way possible.

Taehyung’s face crumpled further, like you had reached into his chest and ripped his heart out in front of everyone. “Do you love him?” he asked, the question raw, desperate, almost begging you to deny it even though the truth was written all over your tear-streaked face.

You looked at Jungkook first, his split lip, the rapidly swelling bruise on his jaw, blood mixing with tears on his chin. His eyes were locked on you, full of love and terror and regret. Then you looked back at Taehyung.

“Yes,” you said again, the word trembling but clear. “I love him. I’m so sorry, Taehyung… I never wanted this. I tried to stop it so many times, but I do. I love him.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Chaewon stood frozen near the altar, one hand pressed to her throat, eyes wide with pure shock and dawning disgust. Your mother sobbed openly. Taehyung’s mother looked like she might faint. The entire wedding party stared at you like you were a stranger.

You took one shaky step toward Taehyung, reaching out with a trembling hand. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this. I tried to end it, I swear on everything, I—”

Taehyung spat a thick mouthful of blood onto the white petals at your feet. The red stain bloomed obscenely against the pristine aisle like an accusation that would never wash away. His eyes were cold now, filled with nothing but disgust and heartbreak. “Go to hell,” he snarled, voice low and venomous. Then he turned on his heel and stormed down the aisle, shoving past groomsmen who tried to reach for him, disappearing toward the venue building as guests parted in stunned silence.

You stood there shaking violently, the weight of what you had just admitted crashing down on you. The perfect day you had spent months planning lay in ruins, scattered flowers, overturned chairs, horrified faces everywhere. Chaewon moved next. She walked up to you slowly, her beautiful maid of honor dress suddenly looking too cheerful, too out of place. Her expression was a mixture of disbelief, anger, and deep, cutting betrayal.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, voice shaking. “All those times I asked if you were okay this morning… every late-night conversation we had about the wedding… you were fucking his best friend behind his back? For how long?”

“I… I didn’t know how,” you stammered, words tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. “It started after a fight with him… it was supposed to be one time and it just… it got so out of control. I was scared, Chaewon. I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose everyone. I tried to end it, I swear I did, but I—”

She looked at you with such raw disgust that it felt like a slap across the face. Her eyes, which had always held nothing but love for you, were now ice cold. “You deserve every single bad thing that’s coming for you,” she said quietly, voice trembling with betrayal. “All of it. Every bit of pain. You did this to yourself.”

“Chaewon, please—” You reached for her arm, sobbing openly now, fresh tears pouring down your face.

She jerked away from your touch like it burned. “Don’t. Just don’t.” Then she turned and walked away, following the same path Taehyung had taken, leaving you standing alone at the ruined altar in your bloodstained wedding dress.

A broken sob tore from your chest. The world spun. You felt like you might collapse right there in front of everyone. Jungkook stepped closer, voice wrecked and hoarse. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go like this. I just couldn’t let you marry him without—”

You didn’t let him finish. You grabbed his hand, bloodied knuckles and all, and pulled him urgently through the staring, whispering crowd. Guests parted like the sea, murmurs rising into a roar. You didn’t care. You needed to get away from the eyes, from the judgment, from the wreckage you had caused.

You dragged him toward a side entrance of the main venue building, heart pounding so violently you thought it might explode. The first door you found was a small, secluded preparation room used earlier for photos. You shoved it open and pulled him inside. The door slammed shut behind you, muffling the chaos outside. Jungkook opened his mouth immediately. “I’m so sorry, I ruined everything, I—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

It was hard. Deep. Desperate. Your hands fisted in his bloody suit jacket as you poured every ounce of fear, relief, heartbreak, and overwhelming love into it. Jungkook groaned against your mouth, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head while the other gripped your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Blood from his lip smeared between you, but neither of you cared. The kiss tasted like copper, salt, and the end of everything you had known, and the terrifying beginning of something new.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, your veil tangled around his fingers. “You’re so stupid,” you whispered against his lips, voice hoarse and shaking. “So fucking stupid for doing that in front of everyone.”

Jungkook looked confused, eyes searching yours, still glistening with tears and uncertainty. “I know. I destroyed your life, your reputation, everything—”

You shook your head, cutting him off again. Your hands moved up to cup his bruised, bloody jaw with heartbreaking tenderness. “I love you,” you said, the words finally free and ringing with truth. “I love you so much, Jungkook. I’ve been in love with you for so long it felt like I was drowning. Our lives… they’re utterly destroyed right now. Everything we knew is gone. But at least we have each other. At least I finally have you.”

A broken, relieved sound escaped his throat. He pulled you into his arms, crushing you against his chest, burying his face in your hair and veil as his shoulders shook with silent sobs. You clung to him just as tightly, fingers digging into his back, wedding dress torn and bloodstained, both of you crying and holding each other like the world outside no longer existed.

For the first time in over a year, there were no more secrets.

Only the two of you.

And whatever came next.

perm taglist ﹐ → @merakoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @littlejeanskirt @mikrokookiex @chwrryppie @sugak00kie134340 @alondra6011 @stars4kooo @namgimini @b-tangkitten

[littlemisskookie]

Free Use: Index

You tell your crush you want him to have full control of you in every way always. He obliges.

Chapter 1

You confess your feelings to Taehyung in a rather bold manner.

Chapter 2

Your dom/sub relationship with Taehyung begins.

Chapter 3

Taehyung agrees to tutor you with Jungkook.

Chapter 4

Taehyung wants to use you for stress relief.

Chapter 5

You finally get to touch Taehyung- but with a catch.

Chapter 6

You feel very insecure about the nature of your relationship with Taehyung, and maybe make a mess along the way. Good thing he’s there to teach you a lesson.

Chapter 7

Taehyung wants you to call Jungkook to tell him the good news.

Chapter 8

Taehyung lets Jungkook borrow you for stress relief.

Chapter 9

Taehyung and Jungkook both really enjoy teasing you- even in public. (Coming Soon!)

Etc…

[trivia-yandere]

national chicken wing day | when did you get hot?

it’s national chicken wing day & you should’ve known better than to test jungkook’s competitiveness.

word count: 1.662

warning: i was bored lmao, like a little drabble to show jungkook, mc & the fam, oral sex (m), dirty talk, quickie, semi-public sex, unprotected sex,

The longer you’ve been around rich people - which is truly only Jungkook - the more you realize how ridiculous they were, especially when it came to saving money.

You sit with your arms crossed, highly amused, at not only Jungkook, but Jinah and Ji-tae. Surrounding you all is a group of people, all cheering and clapping - some even laughing. In the center of the table is a flashing red beacon, the glow illuminating off of each of their matching faces.

Jungkook groans, a disgusted look on his face - which only meant he enjoyed what he was eating. His lips are covered in sauce, as were the tips of his fingers. 

You could only blame yourself, you think. You were the one who, while walking through the mall, saw the sign. National Chicken Wing Day, it read, and right beneath it a challenge. Whoever ate 10 wings coated in Carolina Reaper sauce got their picture taken and hung up on the wall of fame - along with free wings. If they didn’t finish the challenge in under 5 minutes, they were deemed losers - and had to pay for their meal.

You were the one that bet that Jungkook couldn’t do it. You were joking, of course. You weren’t sure if he could or not, but you should’ve known he would take the challenge.

What you also should have known was that your son was right behind him. Ji-tae’s competitiveness didn’t come from you at all. When there was a challenge, he was right there. And naturally, so was Jinah, much to your dismay.

“We don’t allow children to participate. You have to be at least 10 years old.” the manager said with his own amused look. 

Naturally, Jinah cried her eyes out until the manager caved and gave her a different sauce to try. Nothing too hot, of course, just spicy enough for her to feel included. Now, the three of them are chowing down on the chicken like maniacs, their eyes bouncing from their wings to the timer counting down.

“You’re sweating.” Ji-tae cackles towards Jungkook, his own mouth throbbing - but he couldn’t stop now. He had 3 wings left. 

“I’m not new to this.” Jungkook scoffs, plopping a flat into his mouth and devouring it in seconds. His eyes were watering, especially when the sauce fell down his throat, but it was a burn that he’ll gladly take to be victorious. 

Jinah is first to finish. The manager humors her, taking her picture with the polaroid camera and even promising to add her to the wall under “Junior league”. 

“This is ridiculous.” you say, but even you cannot help the giggle that passes through your lips just as Ji-tae and Jungkook finish with 5 seconds to spare. 

Cheers erupt the tiny space, Jinahs being the loudest. You couldn’t help but shake your head at how dramatic it all was, but it was a memory they’d all treasure together. 

Ji-tae’s and Jungkook’s pictures are taken together, both of their lips flushed just as their cheeks are. Their eyes are watery and they both were indeed sweaty - but they won. To them, that’s all that mattered. 

“Aww~” you coo at your son after the picture was taken. “You just look so cute.” you say. Maybe it’s the way he stands side by side Jungkook, a few inches shorter and obviously a younger version of the older man.

Ji-tae’s smile fades and his eyes widens. “Ma,” he hisses, his tone low. He looks around. “You can say that in public. I stopped being cute when I was 10.”

“I forgot.” you scoff with an eye roll. “Losing aura points. Or whatever you kids say these days.”

“Can we get ice cream?” Jinah tugs at Jungkook’s tattooed hand. Her free hand is pointing towards the long line at the ice cream shop directly across from where they were at. A part of you feels like they’re in cahoots. 

“Yeeeaaah.” Jungkook tilts his head, glancing at you. “Here,” he goes through his pockets to grab his wallet. Then, he pulls out a black card and hands it to Ji-tae. “wait in line. We’ll be back.”

“We will?” you raise a brow.

“We will.” Jungkook smirks.

You knew that smirk. 

It’s the same smirk you see five days a week at work, and when you aren’t, it’s the same one that he shows you in the bedroom.

The family restroom isn’t the safest place to do this, but it locks right behind Jungkook. 

“I just need five minutes.” Jungkook pleads against your neck, his greedy hands groping your clothed breast. “No, 8.”

You scoff, but you shudder at the soft feeling of Jungkook’s lips. He presses open mouth kisses against it needily. “You left your kids in line to fuck me in the family restroom.” you deadpan.

“Yes. They’re fine.” Jungkook presses his bulge against your ass. “It’s your fault. You know eating spicy shit makes me horny.”

“That’s literally not true.” you snicker, sneaking your hand behind you to cup his head. “8 minutes.”

You turn quickly just as Jungkook’s hands fall onto his waist. You drop to your knees, eyes flickering upwards at him seductively. He wastes no time in throwing his underwear down with his pants. 

You don’t waste any unnecessary time, either. Your tongue wraps around the tip of his cock and you suckle harshly; just the way Jungkook liked it. Luckily his back is against the wall when his knees buckle. 

“Fuck, I love when you suck it, baby.” Jungkook groans low, his fluttering eyes attempting to stay open to watch you. 

Doing something like this here was exciting. It reminds you of those days when you and Jungkook snuck around as teenagers. When you’d sneak off and tease him until his face was read, murmur such dirty words into his ears as you edge him on - those days were blissful.

Now, you bring Jungkook’s cock further and further into your mouth, suckling hard until his moaning increases. Your eyes are a bit teary, but you weren’t new to this.

Jungkook runs a hand over your cheek as you slurp, the gurgling sounds echoing off of the walls. You had to admit, sucking Jungkook’s cock did make you wet. Maybe it was how handsome he looked with his eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape. Maybe it’s those sweet moans and strings of curses that come through those lips.

Maybe it was just the lewd act in general, you on your knees for the man while his cock is nearly in your throat.

“You’re so pretty right now.” Jungkook groans, immediately regretting opening his eyes to look down at your glossy once. Drool trails down the corner of your mouth. “I don’t wanna cum in your mouth. We got 4 minutes left.”

Jungkook forces his cock out of you, saliva obscenely coating both his cock, then your chin. “I wanna cum in you.”

“You always do.” you sigh deeply. “Do what you gotta do in 4 minutes.”

“It’s all I need, baby.” Jungkook snickers. He helps you up from your knees, but then pushes you against the wall. He forces your own pants down to your knees and wraps a hand around his wet cock. “So wet. You must’ve enjoyed sucking my cock.”

“Only a little.” you murmur. You lick your lips when you feel Jungkook’s tip against your clit. “Maybe you needed to be rewarded.”

“You reward me everyday.” Jungkook hisses, deciding to stop teasing himself and enter you. Your pussy, no matter how many times he’s had it, always feels amazing around. “I've wanted this since we got out of the car.”

“We can’t go anywhere without you wanting to bend me over.” you scoff, widening your thighs to feel more of him. “You gotta stop being a pervert for once.”

Jungkook chuckles. He pulls out, leaving the tip inside . Then, he pump right back in. He places one hand onto your hip, the other one slides up to your neck. “I can’t help it when your pussy feels this good.”

Jungkook fucks you with need. He’s a man on a mission, determined to get everything he could in a manner of 4 short minutes. Your ass slams against his abdomen and to not be too loud, he has to cover his hand around your mouth. He’s grunting into your neck, cock drilling that sweet spot he knows all too well.

Your eyes are rolling. You feel Jungkook deep inside of you, fucking you with such desperation that it sends you overboard each time. Your heart thumps in your chest, your toes curling in your shoes. 

“I need it again later.” Jungkook grumbles, his nails digging into the flesh of your hip. “You’re being so submissive right now just tells me you wanted it just as bad as I did.”

You want to tell Jungkook to fuck off, but he was far too right at the moment. Your thighs tremble and you’re moaning into his palm, Arousal pools onto your thighs, his pumping cock pounding in and out of you so deliciously that you’re seeing stars.

It’s fast, rough and ends all too quickly. Jungkook cums in you with one final thrust, his own legs shaking. For a moment, he allows his body to collapse onto yours on the cool tiled wall. He has to catch his breath.

The walk of shame back to your unknowing children was one you’d thought you’d never experience, but Jungkook is giddy besides you. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders as the ice cream shop grows near. Luckily for the two of you, Ji-tae and Jinah are next in line. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you later.” Jungkook murmurs before pecking your cheek. “Happy National Chicken Wing Day~”

“You’re so fucking corny.” you scoff with a roll of your eyes. “As if I’d let you fuck me again after that.”

You would, but you and Jungkook both knew that the both of you enjoyed the banter.

this is really not supposed to be taken seriously, nor is it part 4. but if i had to add it to the storyline, i'd say it takes place after the events of part 4 (which hasn't been shown yet lmaooo)

[joonam]

(not) his wife - part 1 | jjk

Pairing: non-idol!Jungkook x Reader (f)

Genre: arranged marriage, forced proximity, one-sided love, angst, childhood friends

Summary: Jungkook is your husband who believes he lost his chance with your sister because of you. Now you're married to him, and revenge was the only reason he said yes to this marriage.

Warnings: jungkook is a walking red flag and oc is a dumb girl in love so read at your own risk? again, neither of their brains is fully developed here. toxic relationship, angst.

Word count: 11k

a/n: nine days in the making and here we are.... anon, i hope i did your request justice!! there will be a part two because yall i genuinely don't even know where to begin with this man’s redemption arc.... at this point, i fear the redemption arc alone is going to take over 10k words (lmk if you have any ideas, lend me ur creativity bbgs). all I can say is: please do not date men who do not kiss the ground you walk on!!!

taglist: @jiwikiwi @scriptved

You remembered the first time you saw him.

Your sister, Suji, was two years older than you and ever since you were ten, she brought her friends home nearly every weekend.

There were four of them: Jimin, Yejin, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

They were inseparable and exactly the kind of friendship you only ever read about in books or watched in movies. On weekends, your house was always filled with their voices and you never minded it, especially since two-years was not much of an age gap, hence you were included in almost everything they did.

That only changed after they graduated from high school and scattered across the country. Even then, the distance never truly separated them. They would stay in touch, called regularly, and planned a holiday together at least once a year.

As a child, being included in their group made you feel important. There was something exciting and cool about being ten and spending most of your time with older kids.

It did not take long for you to realise that Suji was the one holding them all together and her friends always orbited around her without noticing they were doing it. That never surprised you because Suji has always been the main character wherever she went, both at home and everywhere else.

You never resented her for it because she was the kindest sister you could have asked for. She never made you feel smaller than her, she invited you to parties you were too young to attend, defended you when Taehyung teased you about your missing front tooth, and let you borrow her clothes without ever complaining about it.

Her friends were kind to you too.

Jimin and Yejin were the first ones you met. You remembered them sitting beside you at the kitchen table, patiently helping you with your maths homework. Now they were married, with a daughter who was as cheerful as the two of them.

Then there was Taehyung, around whom fourteen-year-old Suji started acting differently. She became shy in his presence, more careful with her words, and she would glance at him now and then whenever she thought no one was looking. They were married now and, as far as you could tell, still having the time of their lives together.

And then there was Jungkook.

You, Suji, and the rest of her friends had been playing hide-and-seek throughout the house one Saturday afternoon, and Jungkook was the seeker. You hid behind the living-room curtain, holding your breath as you listened for his footsteps.

You were certain you would be caught first, because you barely had time to find a proper hiding place.

And you were right, Jungkook did find you first.

He pulled the curtain aside just enough to see you. But instead of dragging you out and gloating the way Taehyung or Jimin would have done, he merely smiled at you and ruffled your hair.

Then he let the curtain fall back into place and walked away to find the others.

You stayed behind the curtain for another full minute, your heart beating so loud that you considered asking your mom to call an ambulance.

At ten years old, what was that if not a knight in shining armour?

You have been in love with him ever since.

By fourteen, you assumed the feeling would have disappeared. It was supposed to be puppy love; something harmless and embarrassing that you would laugh about with Suji over wine in ten years time. But it did not just disappear like you thought it would. 

In high school, Jungkook became one of the popular boys. His face made insecure boys resent him and hopeful girls imagine they had a chance with him. Yet he never seemed interested in any of it, he only cared about being around Suji and the rest of their friends, and he never seemed to mind having you around either.

Well, mostly because you were his best friend’s little sister.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

At fifteen, you finally told Suji about your little embarrassing crush. 

She was not surprised when you confessed that you had a crush on one of her best friends. Jungkook was handsome too so it wasn’t really weird. You learned much later that she had known for years, but that night, she only laughed softly and said, “I’ll help you get together with him when you’re a little older, okay?”

Not long after you told her, Jungkook stopped coming to the house.

The rest of the group continued gathering in your living room every weekend as loud and inseparable as ever, but his usual seat was always empty. You still caught glimpses of him in the school hallways. He never said hello, though that wasn’t really strange since he rarely greeted you at school even before he stopped coming around your house.

Then you noticed that Jungkook started spending time with a different crowd. And it happened around the same time Suji and Taehyung finally started dating. These two quickly became the school’s “it” couple, with every photograph of them posted online always accompanied with the same ‘#CoupleGoals’. 

But them getting together never surprised you.

What surprised you was that the moment Suji and Taehyung got together, Jungkook noticed you again, but not the way you wanted him to. The time your paths crossed again, he spat onto the ground in front of you and looked at you as if the sight of you disgusted him.

You didn’t understand it. You’ve adored him for five years by then, and you had no idea what you did to deserve that kind of hatred.

When you asked Jimin whether you somehow offended Jungkook, he only sighed and told you not to take it personally. And that Jungkook started spending time with wealthy, arrogant boys, and he has changed. 

To you, it made sense for him to hang out with a different crowd, especially since he came from a different tax bracket than you did.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You were twenty-two when you received the phone call from your mother. 

By this time, Jungkook was somewhere not in your life; he was just a name that came up at your school reunion and nowhere else. You’ve heard things about him; that he helped his father ran their family’s company, then him eventually becoming the CEO. 

Your mother has been a single mother almost your whole life, and she has never once, in twenty-two years, called you sounding like she was preparing for you to leave her life.

"Can you come home?" she asked, "tonight, if you can. I need to talk to you about something and I don't want to do it over the phone."

You asked if everything was okay, and she said she'll explain when you were there, which is somehow worse than any answer she could have given you, and you spent the whole drive over with your stomach tightened in knots.

Your mom was waiting at the kitchen table when you arrived, two cups of tea already going cold in front of her like she made them an hour ago and forgot they existed the moment she poured them. 

“Mom?” you asked as you sat down in front of her, “this is reminding me of horror movies,” you chuckled. 

"I need to tell you something," she said, "and I need you to not hate me."

You immediately became silent and didn’t even dare to say anything. So you let her say whatever she wanted to say in her own time, because she seemed as if she was going to burst into tears.

"I owe some family a great deal of money," she said, finally opening up after what felt like fifteen minutes, "forty million dollars. It's to the Jeon's family. Jeon Jungkook, do you remember him? From when you were kids, Suji's friend.."

You couldn’t help the gasp that followed, "How?" was all you could manage to respond with. 

forty million dollars was more money than you have ever seen in your life. Your mother was an investment banker at a small firm, so your family has never been poor, but you were nowhere near forty-million-dollars rich. But then, compared to the Jeon family, you might as well have been poor.

“I’d been at the firm for three years by then,” your mother said, her eyes fixed on the table, “I was young enough to be desperate for a win. I wanted to prove myself, especially in rooms full of men who called me sweetheart and honey during meetings and constantly tease me.”

She paused, playing with her fingers in her lap, “One of my colleagues brought me a deal. It was a startup that was supposedly going to be bought out within eighteen months. It was the kind of tip that could make someone’s career if it worked.”

“And you believed him?” you asked.

“I believed in the startup,” she corrected, “enough to pass it on to a client I’d been trying to win over for months. Jungkook’s parents. I told them it was a sure thing,” your mother said, her voice slightly breaking on the word sure, “I wasn’t lying to them. I believed it too.”

She looked down at her hands, “That’s the part that still keeps me awake. I didn’t do it because I wanted to hurt anyone. I did it because I wanted them to trust me. I wanted it so badly.”

“And it failed?”

“Not at first. For a few months, everything looked promising, then the company’s lead investor pulled out after a fraud investigation. None of us saw it coming and the entire company collapsed within six weeks.”

She paused before continuing, “Jungkook’s parents lost almost everything they invested. And because I was the one who brought them the deal and told them their money would be safe, they came to me. forty million dollars was what they believed they would have earned if the deal had succeeded, added to everything they had lost.”

“They expected you to pay all of that?” you asked in disbelief.

“They said I could take as long as I needed and I could repay it at whatever pace I could manage, and they would never tell anyone what happened,” she said, before finally looking up at you.

"How much have you paid so far?" you ask, though some part of you already knows the answer will hurt you.

"Five hundred thousand. A little more, actually, slowly but steadily I was paying it off, but it has been years since the deal, ____," she said, her eyes filled with tears. 

You have never seen her crying this much, not even at your father's funeral where she held back her tears for her children, "I didn't want you or Suji to know. It’s a debt I don’t want the two of you to carry.”

"And the rest of it?" you finally asked, "you wouldn't have called me here just to tell me about the debt or the amount. There's something else, right?"

Your mother's hands tighten in her lap, "They want to erase the whole forty million debt, if.. "

"If what?" you asked nervously.

"If you marry their son, Jungkook."

You laughed at your mother, because what she just said sounded like an opening line of a story or a cringe fan fiction you read on Wattpad years ago. 

Then you looked at her face and understood she wasn’t trying to fool you at all.

“Mom,” you quietly said, your voice shaking out of anger, confusion, and sadness, you couldn’t really tell. 

“I barely know him anymore. We haven’t spoken in years, and he’s not the boy from my childhood anymore. I don’t even know who he is now.”

“I know,” she said, and she sounded as if she dreaded saying the idea aloud, for even thinking of asking you to do this, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for even considering asking this of you,” her voice trembled, “I’ve thought it over in my head for weeks, and I feel so bad as a mother, it feels as if I’m selling you to fix my own mistake.”

She drew in a breath, “It’s fine, you don’t need to do this. I’ll find another way. I will not make you responsible for a debt that belongs to me.”

“Jungkook is a good-looking man, Mom. He’s rich too and he could have anyone he wanted,” you hesitated before asking further, “so why would he agree to this? Why me?”

“He’s refused everyone his parents have introduced him to,” she said quietly, “for years, apparently he has refused half a dozen women. From what I understand, he turned every one of them down.”

She paused before adding, “But this time, his parents told me it was his idea,” her eyes lifted to yours, “he chose you.”

You thought it was bullshit, why would Jungkook choose you out of all people? It was clear as days that his eyes were never on yours, and all of the sudden he has chosen you? 

Jungkook was an old friend you spent years hoping never to see again. What could someone like him possibly want from you now?

You couldn’t help but wonder if being chosen meant being wanted by Jungkook, or if you were simply the easiest answer to him; something he agreed to because saying yes was easier than arguing with his parents over a marriage he did not care enough to refuse.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You said yes.

Because when you did the math more than once that week, lying awake in the dark, trying to picture your mom at seventy still working even during the weekends to pay down a debt that is almost impossible to pay off. 

You just couldn’t make yourself accept a future that looks like that when you have the power to end it with a single word.

You said yes because you have spent your whole life being the person who helps everyone around you. The little sister who never made anyone feel lacking in anything, the daughter who learned early not to add her own weight to a household already struggling with just one income. You were always the person who takes care of others when they are sick and never asks anyone to do the same for you.

It is the only thing you have ever known what to do. And some part of you just does not know how to look at someone who needs you and say no, even when the person who needs you most is yourself.

Then there is the other reason.

 That small part of you that is still ten years old, still standing behind a curtain while Jungkook smiled at you, has never fully stopped hoping there might be a version of this where Jungkook looks at you without hatred.

You know how ridiculous that sounded.

You know it is not the kind of reason anyone sensible enough should agree to a marriage. But you were ten when you fell for him, and somehow, despite everything, a part of that girl never really went away. When your mother said Jungkook had chosen you, that little girl came rushing back.

You understand, even as you agreed to the marriage, that this is a stupid reason to ruin your life. Yet you said yes anyway, because you have never been as rational as you would like to believe when it comes to Jungkook.

Because some part of you would rather walk willingly into the fire than spend the rest of your life wondering what might have happened if you had turned away.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Two weeks later you were standing in a hotel lobby, your hands were trembling despite the summer heat outside, because his mother suggested or insisted, really, that the two of you meet before anything was finalized. 

You spent forty minutes deciding what to wear and hated yourself for even caring about it.

Jungkook was already there when you arrived, sitting at a corner table with his jacket off and his sleeves pushed up, and his phone in his hand. He didn't stand up when you sat down.

Up close, he still looked familiar, only older now. He had tattoos all over his right arm and there was very little left of the boy who used to smile at you like the two of you shared a secret.

"You're late," Jungkook said, not even looking up to look at you.

"By only four minutes," you answered.

"Four minutes I didn't have."

"Then you should've told your mother not to schedule this in the first place," you scoffed.

That finally made him look up from his phone. Something changed across his face, you could tell that Jungkook was surprised that you answered back at him instead of backing down like he seemed to expect you to do.

You remembered, vaguely, a boy who was gentle to you. There was very little of him left in the man frowning at you now, and you hated that some part of you still mourned the loss of someone you barely knew anymore.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Jungkook asked. 

"Oh, I remember you," you said, “though you used to be nicer."

"You used to be shorter," Jungkook said, rolling his eyes at you.

You ordered coffee neither of you touched and spent the next forty minutes arguing about the wedding neither of you wanted. 

And some small, foolish part of you enjoyed that meeting because arguing with Jungkook meant he was looking at you. It meant you mattered enough to annoy him. 

It meant, for those forty minutes at least, you managed to take up space in his mind.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You married him six weeks later, on a bright Saturday in August, in a dress that cost more than your mother's monthly salary, in a ballroom filled with flowers your mother-in-law chose without consulting you.

The man standing in front of you was not the boy who once found you behind a curtain during a hide-and-seek game. 

Jungkook shook your hand instead of kissing you when the officiant told him he could. He even came up with a charming joke about how shaking hands was an inside joke between the two of you, which made the room laugh.

When you told Suji and Taehyung that you were marrying Jungkook, neither of them believed you. It happened too quickly, you have never told them you were in a relationship, there was no engagement or anything that might have explained how the two of you have gone from never speaking to planning a wedding.

You could not tell them about the debt. You didn’t want them to be angry with your mom, so you insisted it was a long time coming. You told them you have always loved Jungkook and that, somewhere along the way, he secretly started to feel the same way. 

Suji and Taehyung did not believe that either, of course they didn’t, they knew Jungkook has always liked Suji. They just didn’t want you to know it, that was what they have been protecting you from since you were ten. So, at the wedding, neither of them cried. Even Jimin and Yejin didn’t bother to congratulate you either. 

Suji only held your hands for a moment, while Taehyung stood beside her with an expression you couldn’t bring yourself to read.

“We’re here for you,” Suji said.

“Anytime,” Taehyung added.

You couldn’t tell whether that was a warning, but you knew then that they knew something you didn’t. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook’s hand on your waist during the first dance felt cold, because he was touching you only because the event expected him to. He never pulled you closer or whispered something sweet in between of the dance. His eyes stayed fixed somewhere over your shoulder, while you moved together with the applause of people who believed they were watching two people in love.

Later, in a hotel suite far too large for two people who had nothing to say to each other, you and Jungkook sat at opposite ends of the couch, still dressed in your wedding clothes.

Jungkook's tie had been pulled loose and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. Your veil was folded beside you and the hand bouquet of flowers were placed right between the two of you.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re only married on paper,” Jungkook eventually said. 

Jungkook didn’t think he was being cruel to you. If anything, he believed he was doing you a kindness by being honest from the beginning. 

“I won’t cheat on you. I can’t afford to have my company being caught up in a scandal,” he continued, “but I’m not going to treat you like a wife. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just my roommate.”

“Okay,” you said.

It was the only word you could utter at that moment. 

You did not know how to explain how his words made you feel. You only knew that you already decided Jungkook would never see you cry over something he clearly would never think was worth grieving.

You changed out of your wedding dress in the bathroom because it felt strange to do it in front of a husband who barely looked at you since the ceremony.

That night, you slept on opposite sides of the same bed, with a pillow placed between the two of you like a line neither of you was meant to cross. 

By the time you woke up the next morning, Jungkook was already gone. 

At the very least, Jungkook had the decency to leave a note on the counter with his flight time. Much later in the marriage, you would realize it was the first of countless mornings that started the same way:

waking up to find out that Jungkook already left.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

first year of marriage

Jungkook moved into the guest room during the very first day you started living together. That first night, you lay awake in the enormous bed you were apparently meant to have all to yourself, listening to the faint sounds of Jungkook moving around the apartment. 

Then during the first year of your marriage, you found yourself keeping track of everything Jungkook never did.

You stupidly believed that if you counted the nights he came home, the meals you shared, and the times he looked at you like he cared about you, then you might be able to prove that things were getting better. And when they did not, the numbers became proof that you had not imagined how lonely the marriage made you feel.

You hated that you cared enough to count it all and you hated yourself even more for still waiting for Jungkook to change.

Pathetic did not feel like a strong enough word for measuring your marriage by how little your husband gave you, only to find yourself disappointed each time the answer was almost nothing.

You counted the nights he came home before midnight: 11 out of 365 days. 

You counted the meals you ate at the same table: 4, and two of those were during the week his grandmother visited. To Jungkook, keeping up appearances to his family mattered more than whatever existed between the two of you.

You counted the number of times he asked how your day was: 0.

Well, what did you really expect? 

This was an arranged marriage, and Jungkook chose you because he knew you would be easy to please without ever having to worry that you might leave the marriage. At some point, you realized maybe Jungkook had always known how you felt about him. Perhaps that was why he had chosen you as his wife in the first place.

Yet what some stupid part of you wanted was to know undoubtedly that he cared for you, even just a little. 

Whenever you were out with friends and thought of him, you would bring something home and leave it on the counter with a note telling him it was his to eat or drink.

By morning, the food was always still sitting there on the counter, clearly untouched.

Jungkook never ate any of the food you brought home for him, not once that entire year. So eventually, you stopped being surprised and then, sometime near the end of the first year, you stopped bringing anything home at all.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Family holidays were the worst because Jungkook never bothered to show up. So you had to act and lie to everyone around you that the marriage was fine and Jungkook is just one busy businessman. 

“He’s on a business trip,” you told your mother at Chuseok, “the company’s expanding into three new markets this quarter. He barely has time to sleep.”

“He’s swamped with work,” you told Suji at your father’s memorial dinner. That was the one day you truly wanted him there. Just once, you wanted your fake husband to stand beside you at your father’s grave, so you didn't have to lie when you were already drowning in grief and sadness. “Jungkook sends his condolences,” you added.

He did not.

You made it up, the way you always did. He did not come because he did not want to, because you were not worth giving up even a single hour of his life for. You could not say any of that to the people who loved you, not yet and maybe not ever.

Besides, you had no one to blame but yourself. 

No one had forced you to say yes. Your mother would have been fine if she had to keep paying the debt, even if it took the rest of her life, and you could have helped her without marrying Jungkook. There were always other choices you could have picked, harder ones perhaps, but they always existed.

Yet you chose this route.

You walked into the marriage willingly because some foolish part of you wanted an answer to the question you’ve always had since you were ten: what would happen if Jungkook chose you to be his partner? 

Well, now, the adult version of you know.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

What you didn't know that first year was that Jungkook noticed all the empty containers more than he let on, he noticed all the food you brought home for him to consume.

Jungkook would come home late most nights, and sometimes later than he actually needed to, because coming home early meant having to sit in the same room as you, and Jungkook never knew what to say to you.

He would see the food you left for him on the counter with a small note on top of it. And every time he saw it, something in his chest felt weird. Jungkook told himself what he felt had to be guilt, there was no other reason for him to care about you.

A few times, Jungkook found himself standing in the kitchen in the middle of the night, holding the food you brought home and he would just stare at it for a while before putting it back exactly where you left it. Because he didn’t want you to know he had even looked or noticed the effort you put in for him.

To Jungkook, the whole point of this marriage was revenge.

You ruined his life, so he was ruining yours. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

second year of marrtiage

By the second year of your arranged marriage, you were used to the coldness between you and Jungkook. You stopped hoping for him to change his ways, you stopped waiting for him at dinner and setting out a second plate.

You started going to Suji's for girls’ nights and coming home late on purpose, just to see if Jungkook would notice and he never did. Thankfully, it didn't hurt you as much as it would have in the first year. Most nights, he was either still out or locked inside his study. Sometimes the light under the door was the only sign that he was even home.

The apartment stayed exactly the same whether you were there or not.

At New Year, your aunt cornered you before dinner, “Where’s your husband? We’ve only met him twice in two years, and one of those times was at your wedding.”

“He’s closing a deal in Singapore,” you answered easily as lying about Jungkook was almost natural by now, “it’s a big one, so he had to be there.”

What she did not know was that you cried in your car before coming upstairs. You gave yourself exactly ten minutes to cry, sitting in the dark parking lot with the engine off and your forehead pressed against the steering wheel. Once ten minutes were over, you went upstairs to greet your family and smiled as if nothing was wrong.

It was also during the second year that you flew to Jeju for the wedding of one of Jungkook’s business partners.

You assumed you would sit together since it was still a public appearance. It felt stupid now, standing at the gate of priority passengers with your boarding pass in hand, but you didn’t think to check your tickets until Jungkook told you.

“I’m flying first class,” he said, “you’re in economy.”

“Oh,” you forced a small laugh, trying to sound as if it didn’t bother you, “I thought you would’ve booked us seats next to each other.”

“Economy seat should be fine for you. It’s only three hours.”

You spent the flight in a middle seat between two strangers, leaning past the person beside you whenever you wanted to look out the window. 

Years ago, you believed being noticed by Jungkook would feel like winning something.

Now you were his wife, and he couldn’t even be bothered to sit beside you.

When the plane landed, he was not waiting for you, just as you expected. You had to book a taxi to the hotel alone and texted him to say you have arrived. And his only reply was the number of the room you had to share together since most of his colleagues and friends are staying in the same hotel. 

When you let yourself into the room, he was on a call, feet up on the balcony railing as he sat on the balcony couch. It was thankfully an ensuite room with 2 separate beds, so you didn’t have to share a bed with him. Your only interaction with Jungkook then was when he lifted his finger in front of his mouth to tell you to be silent as he was talking on the phone.  

At the wedding reception, you sat at a table full of his friends, who happened to be the group he used to hang out with at school, and you smiled throughout a dinner where no one asked you a single question about yourself, because to them you were simply "Jungkook's wife.”

You weren’t paying much attention to the conversation until one of the women at the table turned to you, “Is that even a real Van Cleef?” she asked, nodding at your bracelet, “it doesn’t look like it.”

“It isn’t,” you said, “it was handmade by a small business.”

“Huh,” she looked at it again, her mouth twisting slightly in disgust.

Another woman leaned closer, “Don’t you think you should make more of an effort with Jungkook’s friends? You never come to any of our gatherings. We barely know anything about you besides the fact that you’re Suji’s younger sister.”

Jungkook has never invited you to any of those gatherings, but you couldn’t tell them that, it would only give them something else to laugh about, “I’ve been busy,” you said.

“Jungkook is much busier than you,” one of the men cut in.

The first woman looked at you again, “You should be more careful about how you dress too, wearing cheap jewellery makes your husband look bad.”

It was not as if Jungkook has ever given you money to buy anything, not that you would have taken it even if he had.

 “I see,” you muttered.

You stared at her bracelet before standing up from your seat, “Well, at least mine was made responsibly by someone who was paid fairly,” you said, “can you say the same about yours? Or do you just not care about the children who had to mine the diamond and stones as long as your jewellery came in an expensive box?”

Then you picked up your bag and walked away before any of them could answer.

Later, near the bar, you overheard your husband's name.

"Jungkook, honestly, I always thought you would end up with the sister. Suji, right? The one who's married to Taehyung now? She would've made more sense since you had always fancied Suji too. I mean, no offense, your wife seemed sweet, I guess, but.."

"She doesn't really fit in with us, does she?" someone else said, finishing the sentence the other couldn’t.

You turned away before you could hear Jungkook’s response, already heading back towards a table where you felt just as out of place, then his voice stopped you mid-step.

“Yeah,” Jungkook answered, sounding almost bored, “I guess Suji would’ve made more sense for me.”

That was the day you found out Jungkook fancied your sister.

You waited until you were in the hotel bathroom to cry. You locked the door, sat on the closed toilet lid, and pressed both hands over your mouth because Jungkook was somewhere on the other side of the wall and you could not let him hear you.

It should not have hurt as much as it did, you knew he did not love you. Jungkook made that clear from the first night of your marriage.

But knowing he did not want you was different from finding out he liked your own sister.

Suddenly, everything made sense to you.

The way Taehyung and Suji looked at each other when you announced the marriage to them and the way they never congratulated you. They knew, everyone knew except you.

And the worst part was remembering that you told them you have always loved Jungkook, and that he secretly liked you too.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

A few weeks later, back home, you went to dinner at one of Jungkook’s business partner’s houses. You wore the nicest outfit you owned, but you knew the second you walked in that it still was not enough for them. 

One of the wives looked you up and down before smiling, “Cute,” she said.

And you knew it was not a compliment.

“No ring upgrade yet?” another woman asked during dessert, nodding at the plain band on your finger, “Jungkook usually doesn’t do anything halfway. I guess he’s saving the good jewellery for later.”

“She likes simple things,” Jungkook said without looking at you and then he continued, “Suji always said less is more too.”

You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom before your face gave you away. When you came back, they were talking about Suji, about how smart and impressive she was. 

“You know,” one of his friends said to you as he refilled his glass, “we always thought Jungkook would end up with your sister. You seem sweet, but Suji and Jungkook would’ve made much more sense together.”

“None taken,” you said. This was a conversation you have heard before, so you didn’t really care much of it, at least that was what you thought. 

You looked at Jungkook across the table and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Jungkook could have told them to stop. He could have done anything that made you feel like you were not just the wrong sister sitting in Suji’s place. But instead, he looked away and didn’t even bother to correct them.

You didn’t speak during the entire drive home, Jungkook didn’t ask what was wrong or maybe he didn’t even notice how your silence was different, or maybe every silence with you sounded the same to him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next morning, you tried to talk to him about it, because some stubborn, hopeful part of you still believed that if you just explained it clearly enough, he would understand how you felt.

"You compared me to my sister in front of your friends," you said, over coffee he was drinking standing up, already half way out the door. 

"It wasn't a big deal," he said, checking his watch, “it was a joke."

"It didn't feel like a joke."

"I don't have time for this right now," he said, "can we talk about it tonight?"

You knew, even as you nodded, that tonight would turn into tomorrow, and tomorrow would become some vague promise of “later”. By then, you already knew what later meant with Jungkook, it meant never.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

What you did not know was that Jungkook kept thinking about what he said in Jeju.

“Suji would’ve made more sense.”

The words came back to him at random times; in the shower, in the elevator, during meetings when he was supposed to be listening, and he kept telling himself it was true. Suji was always the one he wanted and everyone knew that.

Still, he could not understand why saying it had made him feel so bad.

Jungkook should not have felt guilty. You were the reason he lost Suji in the first place. You were the reason she had chosen Taehyung and left him behind. 

So if anyone deserved to feel guilty, it was you.

Later that year, on a night you were out, he opened the cabinet and took out two plates without thinking. He stared at them for a few seconds before putting one back.

You stopped setting a place for him months ago, but he watched you do it so many times during the first year that the habit had somehow stayed with him. He stood there longer than he needed to, wondering why he reached for two plates when he knew you were not coming home.

For years, Suji had been the person Jungkook believed he wanted. His friends still mentioned her like she was some great love he lost, and he let himself believe that was true because it gave him a reason to stay angry.

But whenever Jungkook tried to remember her, his mind kept going somewhere else. He remembered sitting at your family’s kitchen table, helping you finish a puzzle because no one else wanted to. Jungkook remembered finding you behind the curtain during hide-and-seek, and he remembered how easily you used to laugh around him.

Jungkook has not heard your laugh in a long time and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

One night, while you were out celebrating a friend’s birthday, he sat alone in the living room with a drink in his hand. He remembered you mentioning the party, though he couldn’t remember whether you told him directly or if he saw the birthday card on the counter.

Jungkook looked around the apartment and thought that you were probably happier when he was not there.

And Jungkook did not like that thought. He did not like knowing that you could leave the apartment and become a completely different person around everyone else; someone happier. 

He poured his drink into the sink and went to bed early.

Jungkook told himself what he was feeling towards you was guilt that would pass if he ignored it long enough.

It did not.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

third year of marriage

By the third year of marriage, you stopped hoping at all.

Whatever hope you carried into the marriage was nowhere to be found. You could not remember the exact moment it happened, you only knew that one day, you stopped expecting anything from Jungkook.

The two of you have been living separate lives under the same roof.

You paid for half of everything, the groceries, bills, and all the other small expenses neither of you ever discussed. 

You have also gotten even better at lying during family gatherings; “he’s travelling,” “he’s busy,” or “the company is going through an important season.” You said the same excuses so often that the lies came out without any effort nowadays, even Suji stopped asking you questions about Jungkook. 

“You know you don’t have to keep covering for him,” Suji said quietly at your mother’s birthday after you finished explaining Jungkook’s empty chair for the hundredth time, “we’re not going to think less of you if you tell us the truth.”

“I know,” you said.

You just didn’t have the energy to say it out loud. Once you told them, they would worry, they would ask what you planned to do, they would want you to leave him, and then you would have to explain why you even stayed for so long.

Some nights, you sat alone in the apartment and thought about how long it has been. Three whole years; you have spent three years living with someone who barely knew you.

You counted everything during the first year, but eventually, you stopped doing so. The amount of things Jungkook has done for you has become too embarrassing. There was no point keeping track of shared meals when there were barely any to count.

You feel like a different person now, sometimes, you almost feel sorry for yourself.

You waited so long for your knight to choose you, never knowing that when he finally did, it would be the very thing that broke you apart.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Sometime during the third year of the marriage, Jungkook finally began to understand something he spent most of his life getting wrong.

It has never really been Suji.

For years, he has been so sure she was the one he wanted. Suji was beautiful, confident, and always at the centre of everything. Everyone liked her, so wanting her had always made sense to Jungkook, especially when everyone around him seemed to expect it.

But when Jungkook thought back to the years he spent at your family's house as a kid, the memories that stayed with him were never really about Suji. 

It was you sitting beside him at the kitchen table, asking for help with a puzzle even though you were too shy to look directly at him. It was you hiding behind the curtain during hide-and-seek and him trying not to laugh when he found you. It was the way you used to save him a seat at lunch, the way you followed him around when you were younger, the way your face lit up whenever he paid attention to you, as if he'd done something far kinder than he actually did.

Somehow, Jungkook took all of those memories and put Suji's name all over them instead. Maybe it was because Suji was his age, and she fit so easily into the rest of his life. You have only ever been Suji's little sister, or at least that was what he always told himself. And the truth came to him slowly, then all at once.

It would have been easier if Jungkook could have kept blaming you.

Jungkook was sixteen when he finally found the courage to tell Suji how he felt, he was certain she felt the same way, only for her to turn him down. Suji told him she liked Taehyung, not him. Then she told him that even if she felt differently, she could never be with him. She told him that she couldn't bear the thought of you finding out that the boy you adored since you were ten had fallen for your own sister instead.

That was the day Jungkook decided you were the reason he lost Suji. He never could decide who he was angrier at; you for telling her first or Suji for choosing you over him. 

And Jungkook found it easier to be angry at you.

He told himself for years that marrying you was a way of taking back what he lost, except somewhere in the second year of your marriage, the plan stopped feeling like justice and started feeling like something he will regret his whole life.

Because somewhere in that same year, without meaning to, Jungkook started noticing you.

He noticed that he memorised the sound of your keys in the door. He noticed he wasn't surprised your mug was blue, because he remembered you telling him back when you were still a kid that blue was your favourite colour. 

Jungkook started noticing the shows you watched in the living room that he could hear from his room, the nights you came home late and laughed quietly on the phone before disappearing into your bedroom, and the way the apartment felt different when you were gone.

He noticed you took your coffee black in the mornings but liked your tea with milk at night. Jungkook noticed the light under your door usually went out around midnight, and on the nights it didn't, he found himself lying awake wondering what was keeping you up. 

Jungkook noticed how you would go still for a second before answering your mother's calls, then soften your voice the moment you picked up. He noticed you still bit the inside of your cheek when you were concentrating, exactly the way you did at ten years old.

He spent years insisting he had no interest in getting to know you, and somewhere along the way, he memorised you completely.

He even started coming home earlier on the nights he knew you would be there; early enough that he could hear you moving around in the kitchen, or catch a glimpse of you before you went to bed.

Jungkook remembered that night in Jeju more clearly than he wanted to. He watched you leave the table after his friends made fun of your bracelet, and for a second, he almost went after you. Yet he did nothing instead and later at the bar, he told someone that Suji would have made more sense for him. It was just easy to say because he has been telling himself the same thing for years. 

It was easier to believe he lost Suji than to admit he was ruining whatever chance he had with you.

The night he finally realised it, he tried to think about Suji, tried to search for whatever he spent years insisting was still there and there was nothing. Whatever he felt for Suji disappeared a long time ago. Jungkook only kept holding onto it because it felt familiar, because blaming you was easier than admitting he was the one in the wrong.

He knew more about you than he ever bothered to learn about Suji, and that was when he finally understood that all along, the person he has been thinking about was you.

Somewhere in the middle of an arranged marriage he agreed to as a revenge, Jungkook had fallen for the person he was punishing, and he only realised it after you had already stopped caring whether he came home.

The only question left was whether Jungkook had realised he witnessed your devotion too late.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You didn’t come home that night, instead you called your sister for an emergency meeting at your mom’s place, "Come by mom’s house tonight," you pleaded, "please."

Suji and Taehyung were already there when you arrived. 

You sat down at the kitchen table where you grew up doing homework, "I need to tell you guys something," you said.

So you told them about how he treated you, you told them the reason behind the empty chair at every holiday, and every single thing that happened during your marriage. 

The moment you stopped talking, your mother went to her knees in the middle of the kitchen. You have never, in twenty-six years, seen your mother on her knees for anything, not even at your father's funeral where she stood so straight and so still you worried she had forgotten how to bend her knees

"I did this to you," your mother cried out, and she was frantic in a way you have never once witnessed, her hands were shaking as she reached for yours, "I owe them the money, not you. I sold you to fix my own mistake and I have watched you smile through three years of a marriage that's been eating you alive and I told myself it was fine because you never once complained, because you're so good at never complaining, and I am so sorry, I am so sorry, please forgive me."

You dropped to your knees and held her, and you cried the way you haven’t let yourself cry in years. You cried until your throat was hurting, until Suji came around the table and wrapped her arms around both of you, until Taehyung stood a few feet away with his jaw tight and his hands curled into fists.

"It's okay," you said, when you could speak again,"I'll always help you, Mom. I mean that, I’ll help you pay that debt. But this time, I want a divorce."

Suji was already standing next to you, and the look on her face was one you'd never seen there before, "I am going to kill him," she said, “I’m sorry, ____. I never.. I should have known. I should have asked you harder. I should have protected you."

"Don't," you said, “please. I don't want any of you doing anything. I don't want him in my life anymore, and I don't want to spend one more minute of my energy on him. I just want it to be over. I want to be done."

They didn't like it. 

You could see in all of their faces that it was hurting them not to do anything in your stead. But they loved you enough to hear you out. 

For the first time in three years you slept in your childhood bedroom, and that night, you slept better than you have in a long, long time.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

At first, Jungkook didn’t think much of it when you weren’t home. You went out sometimes. Three years of marriage taught him your routine; Tuesdays with your girlfriends; the occasional weekend at your mother’s. 

Jungkook came home the first night to an empty apartment, ordered food, and ate it standing at the kitchen counter. Your disappearance didn’t seem unusual enough for him to question it.

By the second day, the apartment felt different and he couldn’t immediately work out why. The coffee maker hadn’t been used, there was no bitter smell in the kitchen when he walked in that morning and the mug you always used for tea was still sitting where he left it two days ago.

Jungkook looked at it for longer than he should have, then he checked the entryway for your shoes and they weren’t there. An hour later, Jungkook checked again, and still you weren’t back home.

By the third day, he texted you.

Jungkook: You okay?

No message came back. He stared at the screen until it dimmed in his hand again, and when Jungkook unlocked it, there was still nothing.

By the fourth day, the uneasiness became too loud for him to ignore. It followed him into the shower, the car, and the office. Jungkook sat through meetings without taking in a word. Jungkook asked his assistant to repeat what they just said three times, and afterwards Jungkook still couldn’t remember what they were even discussing.

Jungkook called you once in the afternoon, then again on the drive home, but both calls went to voicemail.

Jungkook wasn’t used to this. 

Jungkook is used to handling problems, hell, he has built companies and sat across from men twice his age and made them agree to terms they had sworn they would never accept. Jungkook knew how to remain calm when everyone else in the room was losing their mind. 

But that night, at two in the morning, Jungkook lay awake thinking about one unanswered text, thinking about where you were, if you were eating well, if you were sleeping soundly, if you will ever come back home to him.

When did he become like this? 

By the fifth day, Jungkook drove past your mother’s street twice. 

The first time, he told himself he had taken the wrong turn. The second time, he slowed down near your house and looked for a light in the windows. Jungkook wanted proof that you were there, that you were somewhere and you didn’t simply disappear beyond his reach.

Jungkook hated how badly he needed you. He opened your contact on his phone again and again but never pressed call, his thumb only hovered over your name until the screen went dark again.

The past three years of marriage have been made up of small things he never should have done. The meals you prepared that he barely touched, the questions he answered without looking at you, the evenings when you sat beside him and eventually stopped trying to start a conversation.

You tried to make a life with him, yet Jungkook treated every attempt as an inconvenience.

For years, he told himself that he was the victim, that Suji was the person he should have been married to. But when Jungkook forced himself to remember exactly why he liked Suji, he felt nothing.

What Jungkook remembered was always you and everything the two of you had done together. He remembered a girl half his size sitting across from him, looking up at him like he was her world. He remembered playing hide-and-seek with you and he remembered pretending not to see you.

Jungkook always said Suji was the person he was the happiest with, but all the memories that felt warm to him, belonged to you.

Admitting the truth would have meant admitting that Jungkook spent years hurting the wrong person. And tonight, Jungkook sat alone in the living room and finally clearly admitted the one he always wanted was you.

Jungkook didn’t want a divorce and he did not want you to leave him.

When he imagined the apartment being empty of your things, Jungkook’s chest started hurting. When he imagined another man hearing you laugh, learning what food you liked, being invited to your mother’s house, he felt something pressing against his chest that it was hard for him to breathe.

Jungkook wanted you to remain his wife and the thought made him feel ashamed of all the things he had done to you the past three years.

“My wife,” Jungkook said to his empty apartment.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook tried to call Suji, but she didn’t answer. So, the next morning, he called Taehyung and to his surprise, Taehyung answered on the second ring.

“Stay away from my family,” was all Taehyung said when he picked up.

“I knew you had feelings for my wife,” Taehyung continued, “I have known for years, I knew since we were children, Jungkook. I didn’t say anything because I thought you would get over it. I thought it was some pathetic thing from when we were younger that would eventually die out.”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook tried to cut him off, but Taehyung wouldn’t let him.

“No. You don’t get to say shit. It’s been years,” Taehyung said, “and while you were busy feeling sorry for yourself, you destroyed her sister. Three years, Jungkook. She carried your marriage alone for three years and still smiled through every family dinner because she didn’t want anyone worrying about her. We recently found out it was an arranged marriage, fine, you didn’t have to love her, but you could have treated her decently.”

“You knew she didn’t deserve it,” Taehyung continued, “that’s the part I can’t understand. You knew exactly who she was, and you still treated her like she was responsible for everything you hated about your life.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” Taehyung let out a short and bitter laugh, “But I hope you do now. I hope you finally understand what you’ve done, and I hope you feel every second of it.”

Then the call ended.

Jungkook spent years blaming you for a decision neither of you had made. Every humiliation, disappointment, and every bit of grief he carried since he was seventeen, he somehow found a way to make it yours.

It was easier than looking at you, who stayed beside him and asked for so little, and realising he had still given you even less than that.

Now you were gone and there was no one left for him to blame but himself.

Jungkook was not the man he always imagined himself to be. He was pathetic, petty, cowardly, and far smaller than the woman he spent three years treating like nobody.

Jungkook has been nothing but a pathetic, petty and frightened boy wearing a man’s face.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next day, Jungkook went to your mother's house.

She opened the door and just looked at Jungkook with disappointment across her face. It was the same look she gave him when he didn’t kiss you at the altar.  

"I'm not here to see her," Jungkook quickly said, before your mom could close the door, "I know she doesn't want to see me yet. I'm here because I need to say something to you, and I need you to hear me out."

She didn’t say anything, yet she opened the door wide enough to let him in. Unlike the other guests who have visited her home, your mother did not offer Jungkook tea. There was no need to treat him like an acquaintance, soon Jungkook will be her ex son-in-law and someone whom she’ll never ever meet in her life again. 

She sat him at the same kitchen table where you cried just a few nights before.

"I owe your family a lot of money," she said, folding her hands in front of her, "I understand that. I understand this was an arranged marriage none of you asked for or wanted, and that you were as much a pawn in it as my daughter was.”

She drew in a small breath before continuing, “What I do not understand, Jungkook, is how you could treat another human being, my daughter, the kindest person I have ever raised and the one who never once in her life made anyone feel small… How could you have treated her the way you have done the past three years? I am in as much pain watching what this did to her as she is living it, maybe even more, because I was the one who put her in this situation with you in the first place. So tell me, why should I forgive you? Why should I let you anywhere near her again? What exactly do you intend to do?"

Jungkook has never been shaken by anything in his life, not until tonight, sitting in front of your mother.

"I don't have a clear answer," he said, "I wish I did. I spent years being angry at _____ for something that was never even her fault, something I won't even go into right now, because it's mine to explain to her first. And then I spent three more years married to her and still treating her like she was the one who wronged me. I'm not asking you to forgive me." 

Jungkook looked at her, and he looked so broken your mother couldn’t help pitying him, "I'm asking for the chance to keep showing up until it means something to her. I'll beg for her forgiveness, I'll keep coming back even when she tells me not to, even when she has every right to slam the door in my face. But we'll talk, we'll argue, we'll probably fight, more than once, because I don't think she's going to make this easy for me, and she shouldn't and I wouldn’t want her to. I just know I can't bring myself to just let this end without actually trying for the first time in this whole marriage. I want to be someone worth her time. Without knowing it, I realised that the small things she has done throughout our marriage was never small at all. She loved me despite the ugly things I have done. I was just too busy being furious at my past to notice I was standing next to the person I actually wanted."

Your mother stared at him for a long moment, long enough that Jungkook thought she might ask him to leave without another word.

Her marriage to your father hadn’t always been easy. There were years of arguments over parenting, finance, and many more. There were years where she wondered if she married too young.

But when he died, something in her broke apart and it never quite put itself back together.

She remembered how you used to climb into their bed on Sunday mornings, how your father would let you win at cards, how you cried at his funeral so quietly like you were trying not to take up too much space even in your own grief.

you see, your mother knew about your crush on Jungkook. She watched you for sixteen years, she saw the way your face changed whenever Jungkook's name came up at the dinner table, and pretended not to notice the way you used to volunteer to answer the door whenever Suji’s group of friends came around, just in case it was Jungkook. She knew, long before you ever confessed to it, that you had loved him since you were a child. 

And when she told you about the arranged marriage, some small, guilty part of her had let herself believe that maybe this could help. Maybe if she was going to ruin your life with her mistake, it could at least be with the one person you had always wanted to have a relationship with.

She was wrong. 

She watched that hope change into something else these past three years, watching you get smaller in ways you thought she hadn't noticed, watching you repeating lies about a man who could not even be bothered to accompany you for your own father’s death anniversaries.

She was, is, a bad mother for that. 

But she also knew you. She knew that if she asked you right now, whether some part of you still wanted to know if he was willing to try, you wouldn’t say no.

"Sit up straight," she finally said, and Jungkook blinked at her, caught off guard.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me," your mother’s voice was firm and steady, "If you're going to sit in my kitchen and tell me you intend to fight for my daughter, you're not going to do it slouched over like a boy waiting to be punished. Fighting for her means showing up like you mean it, every time, starting now."

Jungkook immediately straightened his posture.

"I'm not telling you this because I forgive you," she continued, "I will not forgive you for a long time, and that will be my right to decide, just as it will be hers." 

She took a deep breath, before continuing, "But I have spent three years watching my daughter lie to the people who love her because she didn't want anyone to know how badly you have hurt her. If you're serious, then you do not need to convince me. You show her, you keep showing it to her, and you need to accept that she may never let you back in, and you don't get to be angry about it, not after all the years you've taken from her already."

"She was ten years old the first time she talked to me about you," she said quietly, "I used to think it was sweet. I didn't know I was watching the beginning of something that would be a long time pain for her. So if she gives you a second chance, you do not waste whatever time she gives you, Jungkook. She has given enough of it away for free, do you understand me?"

"I understand," he said.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You came home from a work trip three days later and found Jungkook sitting at your family home’s dining table, his laptop open and a stack of papers beside him like it was any other weekday.

He was sitting there as if it wasn’t your first time seeing him since you walked out of the home you shared with him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?” you sneered.

Your keys were clenched in your hand, and your entire body went rigid at the sight of him sitting in a chair at your family home.

"I'm here to date you," he said, slowly looking up at you.

You stared at him in disbelief, "You are here to what?"

“Date you,” Jungkook said as he closed his laptop, “I want to date you properly this time.”

For a second, all you could do was look at him. 

"I know what I did,” Jungkook continued, “I know what three years of this marriage to me did to you. I'm not asking you to forget it. I just.. I want the chance to earn what I should’ve earned before we ever got married.”

You let out a dry and humourless laugh, before asking, “What the fuck?!”

You dropped your keys onto the counter, and they hit harder than you intended it to be, “You think you can just show up here and ask to start over?”

“No matter what you do, my heart is not going to change, Jungkook. I'm not a child anymore. I know better than to give you a second chance, hell, I gave you a hundred chances over the last three years and you didn't take a single one.”

“You are beneath me now,” you said quietly, “do you understand that?”

“Then give me one last chance,” Jungkook said, almost pleading.

“Let me court you,” he continued, “let me date you the way I should have the past three years.”

You didn’t answer.

You just walked past him and went to get changed.

You were meeting your friends that night, and had no intention of spending another minute in that kitchen listening to Jungkook act like he could fix three years with a few words.

He stayed where he was while you moved around the house, but you could feel his eyes on you. It shouldn’t have felt unfamiliar, he was your husband. Still, you couldn’t remember the last time he actually noticed you. 

but you hated that your body enjoyed the feeling of being noticed by him, hated that some part of you still wanted to be seen by him.

"Can I come?" he asked, from the living room, he sounded quieter than you have ever heard him speak, “I would love to get to know your friends.” 

You scoffed out loud in response and left without answering him.

When the door shut behind you, something in your body felt at ease because for the first time in years, your life felt like it belonged entirely to you again. 

[ktownshizzle]

Hot & Bothered | myg — Masterlist

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: You’re horny af one night so you login to your fave hook-up app for a quick fix. You match with Min Yoongi, expecting a cocky rapper with a filthy mouth, but instead, you get a soft-spoken man in a designer shirt and a gummy smile. He keeps asking you out, but there’s no kiss, no sex, nothing. Each date winds you up tighter than the last, your patience (and your lingerie) hanging by a thread, and now you can’t tell what’ll snap first: his restraint or your self-control. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, smut, strangers to lovers, non idol ✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, eventual smut... ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: ✨NEW SERIES ✨This is inspired by a request from @theuselessdaydreamingidiot to write about a sexually reserved Yoongi. Enjoy <3

02.17.2026: THE SERIES IS COMPLETE

🔥 Date no. 1: The Black Button-Up

🔥 Date no. 2: The Tan Cardigan

🔥 Date no. 3: The Flat Earther Tee

🔥 Date no. 4: The Blue Dress Shirt

🔥 Date no. 5: The Olive Green Parka

🔥 Interlude

🔥 Date no. 6: The Fuzzy Sweater

🔥 Date no. 7: The Birthday Suit

Divider by: @/solitary-serendipity

[inthelow]

PRETTY SAD FOR A GIRL SO IN LOVE — bangtan series.

·.·★ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love…

— a BTS theme series inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s newest album. Each fic is loosely based on one of the songs and borrows the heart of it— not necessarily its plot— to create a new story centered around one (or more) members. While every fic can be read on its own, together they explore the many faces of love and heartbreak.

author’s note: this took me way longer than it should. t’s my first time editing and doing a ‘theme’ masterlist so i’m really excited about this!! i really hope like it<3 Links will be added into the tittles once they’re posted!!

｡･:*˚:✧｡ GIRL SO IN LOVE. . .

1. DROP DEAD — kim seokjin.

summary: It all started as a silly joke between friends. One harmless unimportant conversation, one impossible name thrown into the mix, and one boring late-night search that should’ve ended after a single Instagram post and not in thousand of hours stalking a famous idol. Looking back, maybe your feminine intuition already knew that the story wouldn’t stop there… because once Kim Seokjin crossed your mind, it seemed impossible for the universe to keep him out of your life.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

2. STUPID SONG — min yoongi.

summary: As a songwriter you’ve always trusted your words more than your feelings. Unfortunately, falling for Min Yoongi makes both impossible to ignore. Wanting someone so much that you’re lost for words was slowly driving you mad. And somewhere between studio sessions, late-night conversations, and one too many stupid songs that sound suspiciously alike, you begin to wonder if love is supposed to feel this wonderfully unbearable.

warming! ─ none.

3. HONEYBEE — kim taehyung.

summary: Moving into a new apartment wasn’t supposed to change much of your life. Except, you moved next to Kim Taehyung— a man who’s always had a habit of making himself at home wherever he goes. Funny enough, neither of you noticed you’d been building one together all along.

warning! ─ none.

4. MAGGOTS FOR BRAINS — kim namjoon.

summary: You always thought people who couldn’t function without their partners were being stupid and pathetic. That was until Namjoon leaves for tour, suddenly every song, every meal, and every quiet moment seems determined to remind you that you’ve officially lost your mind. Nobody warned you that missing someone could feel like a full-time job— or that love had a way of making even the smartest people act a little stupid.

warning! ─ none.

5. U + ME = <3 — jung hoseok.

summary: Dating Jung Hoseok feels a little like breaking every rule you’ve ever had about taking things slow. Between meeting his family, compatibility quizzes that insist you’re all wrong for each other, and a future that somehow keeps slipping into everyday conversations, you and Hobi are determined to prove everyone wrong— even if it means falling a little too hard and a little too fast.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

6. MY WAY — park jimin.

summary: You’ve never considered yourself the jealous type. Petty? Maybe. But there’s a difference between insecurity and watching someone repeatedly ignore the word ‘no.’ As Jimin’s ex grows increasingly creative in her attempts to stay in his life, you find yourself running dangerously low on patience. You were determined to handle things like a mature adult… at least right up until the night you realize there are far more satisfying ways to remind someone exactly who he goes home with.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

7. PURPLE — jeon jungkook.

summary: Loving Jungkook feels like watching two pretty colors blend into something even more beautiful. The trouble is, once they become one, it’s hard to remember what they looked like apart.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

. . . PRETTY SAD ｡･:*˚:✧｡

8. THE CURE — jeon jungkook.

summary: You had dated enough men to know exactly when the doubt would start. The comparisons, the jealousy, the quiet certainty that eventually you would never be enough. Dating Jungkook had cured every fear you ever had about love. For the first time, loving someone didn’t feel like drowning…. Which only made it more terrifying when you realized the thing ruining your relationship wasn’t him— It was you.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

9. BEGGED — kim namjoon.

summary: Namjoon has always loved you the best way he knows how. Between late-night promises, postponed plans, and a man who always means well, you’re willing to be patient. After all, it’s a virtue to not let good love slip away. But it’s funny how easily patience can disguise itself as hope… You just never imagined that one day you’d find yourself wondering whether love should have to be asked for in the first place.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

10. WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME — kim taehyung.

summary: Taehyung loves you exactly the way you’ve always dreamed of being loved. So why does every morning feel a little heavier than the last? When doctors insist there’s nothing wrong and even happiness starts to feel like an unbearable weight, you’re left wondering if the greatest love of your life might somehow be the very thing making you sick.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

11. LESS — min yoongi.

summary: You never imagined the person who loved you most would also be the one forced to let you go. But when every attempt to save your relationship only leaves you both hurting a little more, you’re left wondering if the cruelest kind of love is the one that knows when it’s time to end.

warning! ─ none.

12. EXPECTATIONS — park jimin/jung hoseok.

summary: After one heartbreak too many, you’ve decided to raise your standards. Lucky for you, Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok seem determined to exceed them. Whether they’re trying to impress you or simply outdo each other is still up for debate— and while neither of them looks particularly promising as husband material… you’re beginning to suspect they’d make an excellent team.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

13. CIGARETTE SMOKE — kim seokjin.

summary: It’s strange how every memory of Jin seems to come in pairs: one that reminds you why you stayed, and another that quietly explains why you couldn’t forever. The hardest part is deciding which one deserves to be remembered and which one will help you decide your future with him.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

UPDATE SCHEDULE:

── AUGUST

── SEPTEMBER

── OCTOBER

── first of all, i knowww yoongi is a piscis and taehyung gives paris but but you have to walk with me on this one okay? trust me that i know bts better than all of you cause we’re really close friends and i’ve been really stressing the fuck out which song to chose for everyone so you better stfu. i only accept good criticism. anyway im actually shaking for this fics!! i really hope you guys like it. and let me know what you think about the theme and the short summary so far<33

permanent taglist (1): @lovingkoalaface @dna-black-and-blue @hoemeprazole @deedeeps @taegiekookk @gukihoney @sftlrmin @libbieminie @savorghost @moonprincesskoo @yooforeaa @kelsyx33 @jjkszn @st4rbbg @senaqsstuff @connnn @rpwprpwprpwprw @llallaaa @lovelye79 @jjkkkk15 @nellbyy @jkmommymilkies @chaerinmin @albascardigan @wvndkoo @pradaheeseung @annyeongbitch7 @tastykookoonut @whoa-jo @zsazshiiing @taylorluvation @parapiop7 @j0cgr0c @elinaki92 @osakis-gf @mar-lo-pap @angeleclipsey @jkayy-prodian @bjoriis @sweetnspicyworld @sadiayn @kookdollia @jcnggukie @imjustcrabby

[inthelow]

permanent taglist (2): @usanrio @mikrokookiex @modernday-siren @brerob31 @ananimehoe @honeeybunneey @fluhflower @thefireintheshadow @luvjimii @taehyung99999 @elithenium @joonjulyagust-d @thealuvsbangtanboys @le-vent-se-leve @tititania @cosmicwintr @lesabdosdetaehyung @mokkaccinnos @19nessa95-blog @kashmoneykoo @medicinemybish @bleumornings @busanbby-jjk @jjanajk @heartsy13 @httpsgiavanna @pprettyanna @decalcomvnia @bloopkook @aiioriiim @hennessysthings @jk2much @mariapples222 @goodchimera @jendeuk124

[gukcnt]

KINKTOBER ⭒ BTS [M. LIST]

a collection of dark, kinky and steamy bts smuts for thirty-one days .ᐟ

pairing — dom!bts x sub!femreader

warnings — 18+, minors dni, all the fics will contain explicit mature themes and kinks, dark content, each story contains their individual warnings (reader discretion is advised due to the intense sexual and potentially triggering content)

a/n — this isn't an interconnected series, just completely different oneshots, all centered around the smut theme. Each story has their own vibe and storyline! <3

taglist — [open]

requests — [open]

status — to be released

main masterlist

⌗󠁐 day 1 — pierced desires » jeon jungkook

⌞ tatto artist au, obsession, nipple piercing ⌝

⌗ day 2 — kim taehyung

⌞ established relationship au, massage, riding ⌝

⌗ day 3 — park jimin

⌞ strangers au, pool sex, public intimacy ⌝

⌗ day 4 — kim namjoon

⌞ age gap au, size kink, anal ⌝

⌗ day 5 — kim seokjin

⌞ workplace au, food play, degradation ⌝

⌗ day 6 — min yoongi

⌞ criminal au, humiliation, bdsm ⌝

⌗ day 7 — jung hoseok

⌞ idol au, backstage sex, backshots ⌝

more coming soon...

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

[gukcnt]

《 ONE NIGHT CONTRACT 》 BTS

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

PAIRING ✦ dom!bts x sub!f.reader

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

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

WC ✦ 28k

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

『 teaser | masterlist | read on wattpad 』

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he lets out a dry laugh.

“that's messed up isn’t it?”

namjoon ever the philosophical one, nodded.

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

“exactly.” seokjin added.

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

“and?” hoseok asked making jin snort.

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

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

“every day feels the same lately.”

the others looked up at him.

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

“and the worst part?” taehyung says quietly.

“we should be happy..”

“but we’re not.” jimin finished.

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

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

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

that earned a few genuine laughs.

“maybe we are old men.” seokjin admits.

“speak for yourself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i know right?”

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

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

“she caught my eye too.” he confesses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“kim seokjin but you can call me jin.”

a bright eyed man leaned forward.

“junghoseok.”

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

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

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

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

“come sit please.”

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

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

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

taehyung nodded, his eyes still on you.

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

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

“are you sure you're okay?”

their protectiveness made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

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

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

it was overwhelming.

intoxicating

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

their expressions shifted with concern.

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

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

you paused, blinking in shock.

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

they reacted immediately as yoongi's jaw clenched.

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

“you're handling all this out there?”

you smiled sadly, looking down at your lap.

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

but jungkook interrupts you before you could finish your words.

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

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

“you know.” he starts speaking.

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

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

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

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

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

“you're honest.” yoongi said simply.

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

“i'm not that special.” you breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“easy guys, we've got all night.”

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

“come here y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes please.” you plead.

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

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

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

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

“mmph!”

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

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

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

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

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

jimin took his turn too, sweetly.

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

“u-uh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah exactly…” namjoon added.

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

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

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

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

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

hoseok grinned, tracing a finger along your arm.

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

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

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

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

“please?” he breathes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes i'll come with you.”

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

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

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

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

with the decision made, they didn’t wait any longer, wanting to have you in their place so they could claim you there with all the time in the world. they guided you out of the vip section with possessive hands at your waist. your heart raced so fast you could feel it in your throat and you felt like it might burst right open.

you spotted your manager near the bar, her eyes widening when she saw you flanked by the seven most well known business owners whose faces had been everywhere. she straightened up instantly not finding words, instantly terrified of what might happen as they stopped in front of her.

“she's not working here anymore.” namjoon stated firmly, his arm slipping around your shoulder.

“y/n is coming with us. consider her shift over permanently, we'll handle any necessary paperwork if needed later.”

your manager blinked rapidly, clearly intimidated but nodded quickly.

“o-of course sir, y/n take care of yourself.”

she shot you a quick look but the men's presence left no room for her to question anything else while you still couldn’t grasp the reality fully. feeling freedom and disbelief all at once.

they led you outside to the waiting matte black limo which was pure luxury, starting from the exterior to the interior. they helped you inside and once the door closed, the vehicle started moving and just along with that, their hands on you were at full force.

this time yoongi didn’t hesitate and pulled you onto his lap first, gripping your hips as he ate at your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours drawing out whimpers as the others shifted closer. jimin's hand slid up to cup your breast through the fabric of your uniform making your back arch even through layers of clothing, their touches felt so prominent.

you didn’t know what would happen once you reached their penthouse and they wouldn’t hold back anymore. hoseok sucks and bites on the side of your neck while jungkook placed a loving kiss against your cheek, his eyes blazing as the ride felt too long because of of what was to come.

“can't wait to have you spread out for us at home.”

you couldn’t wait either.

the limo pulled in front of their penthouse and you stepped out on shaky legs still buzzing from their heated touches that had filled the ride over.

the door opened, welcoming you inside the open living room before you could admire the poshness and extravagance of the place, you were surrounded by all seven of them, their presences closing in like a wall of dominance until you were fully trapped between them. like seven predators closing in on their little prey and they wouldn’t let you go easily especially when there was so much impatience and all the teasings from earlier had left everyone on edge and frustrated.

jin and jimin positioned themselves on either side of you immediately, their breaths ghosting over your skin as hoseok's hand boldly slid under the hem of your uniform, tracing your skin and the skin around your belly button.

“you're so damn soft.” hoseok murmured huskily.

jin's lips found the curve of your neck, placing delicate kisses along your throat, tongue darting out to taste your skin while jimin mirrored him on the other side, alternating between pecks and nips that made you gasp softly. they went oh so slow as if they wanted to memorize every inch of you with just their hands alone, pulling you deeper into their circle.

“look at her already trembling for us.”

jimin whispers against your ear before capturing your lips in a hot kiss, his tongue making that sex act of thrusting in and out that left your knees weak, your hand grasping onto one of their shirts.

“can i?” taehyung gruffs out.

his gaze never left yours as he reached for the zipper at the back of your dress.

“y-yes.” you stuttered, letting out excited huffs of breath.

his fingers worked it down slowly while his mouth sucked on the exposed cleavage of your breast as the fabric parted, revealing the expanse of your back and all seven men watched with rapt attention, their fists clenching in need. you could see their hard cocks straining against their suit pants.

namjoon stands behind you now while yoongi leans against the couch with a smirk enjoying the scene, his arms crossed, eyes devouring every revealed inch, jungkook's hand brushed your hair aside to help taehyung pull the zipper down properly as the dress finally slips down your arms and pools at your feet, leaving you in just your heels, stockings and those tiny lacy white panties, your uniform didn’t need a bra so your breasts jiggle free, making them all groan in unison at the sight. your hand instinctively goes up to cover yourself but taehyung holds it, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a kiss against the back of your hand.

“don't hide from us… god you're perfect.”

you let out a needy moan at his words and how they traced every inch of you with such fascination that you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world and most worshipped. you never thought one could be worshipped with eyes alone and for the first time, you also believed that you could feel perfect… because when you viewed yourself through their eyes, you indeed felt that.

“you look like a dream.” seokjin grumbles.

their praises seemed to reach every corner of your soul. they didn’t take off the panties wanting to admire you like this first, watching the way your nubs were pointed in the air into twin peaks the more as cool air brushed against them.

“we've wanted this since we saw you out there…”

namjoon rumbled, his fingers brushing your spine while yoongi stepped closer, his cold facade cracking as he ran a hand down your side making you lean onto him while panting.

“fuck these curves…”

you were driving him fully insane, their chests puffed up because you were letting them see you like this, your body a bit squirmy at first from being bare in front of them while they're all fully clothed but slowly adapting confidence from their words. all their hands joined in touching you until you couldn’t tell them apart anymore, gliding over every curve, caressing your breasts while thumbs brushed against the nipples.

“oh… hahh.” you whined, your head falling back on jimin's shoulder, your panties wetly clinging to your folds as you clenched your legs together hard but it did little to relieve your ache.

hoseok drops to his knees to kiss along the tops of your stockings while his cock throbs inside his pants, the smell of your arousal hitting him so directly that his nostrils flare but before they could start properly and things could escalate further, they all paused suddenly making you look at them with confusion, your breasts rising and falling. they had to force their eyes from your blossoms to speak to you.

“we need to hear it from you y/n. are you sure about this? fully sure?” namjoon asks.

“i am sure.”

you crooned, your lips forming a pout due to them suddenly stopping and it makes their eyes narrow at how the sweet action pulled at their heartstrings. they'd do anything you asked if you gave them those eyes and that expression but they need to finalize a few things.

“you can use the safe word anytime, red for stopping completely, yellow to slow down and green to keep going yeah?”

you nodded, seeing the care in their faces even in between so much tension and need.

“we've seen how men treat you at the club… so we won't do anything without your consent. we want you so bad but only if you want us just as much.” jungkook rasps.

you didn’t know if you'd ever felt so valued and safe before in front of men and it makes tears of gratefulness well in your eyes as you pressed yourself closer to them, giving your body to them fully.

“i've never been more sure in my life. i want all of you please… please.”

you whimper, feeling their chest and nuzzling against taehyung who is in front of you now and he makes a low noise right beside your ear. they were ready to lose themselves in you completely, all their restraints and control gone.

you were laid back on the couch in the center of the room as you looked up at them, nervousness yet anticipation in you, your body already hypersensitive from being touched. jin leans down to your right side when he cups the underside of one of your breasts, feeling its weight. his thumb flicked it, your nipple hardening even more under his ministrations. you felt his touches all the way down to your clit.

“oh god…”

a squeal left you when taehyung left wet kisses along the side of your other breast, not wanting to keep your other breast neglected before he captured the peak between his lips, sucking at first then with more pressure while jin's skilled pinching and rolling combined with taehyung's warm suction. your back arched off the couch as your breaths came out in short gasps, every pull of tongue and twist of fingers on both your nipples drew involuntary moans from your throat.

the others watched everything, their own need evident as they shifted closer even though taehyung and jin were having their moment, the hands of others would occasionally brush your arms or thighs in reassurance.

“ahh.”

you let out a particularly loud moan as taehyung bites slightly on your nipple before soothing it with laps of his tongue making you feel heady as seokjin's mouth joined too, leaving your breasts wet with saliva. your breasts were like a glistening playground of sensation.

“ahh… jin taehyung… it feels so good.” you whimpered, your hand gripping onto the couch from the pleasure. jin lifted his head briefly, his lips shiny.

“yeah? you like when we suck on these pretty tits baby?

“it makes your pussy feel good mhmm?” he asks.

taehyung hummed in agreement, switching to light nibbles and soothing licks, their words making you even more horny as you nodded dumbly.

“she's dripping so much just from getting her nipples played with… just look at that wet patch.”

jungkook comments, all their eyes falling on your panty covered cunt where a damp spot had started forming from the amount of arousal you leaked and the white lingerie made everything see through. meanwhile, namjoon began kissing torturously down your stomach, his tongue leaving a trail as shivers race up your spine as he worshipped your belly, circling his tongue around your belly button. when his teeth scraped a certain ticklish spot, it made you giggle and you grabbed onto taehyung's shirt who was beside you.

“mm…”

taehyung grinned at your giggle while namjoon glowed softly.

“so beautiful, every inch of you.”

he praised, nipping just below your navel. your legs couldn’t stay spread, feeling a little shy from the copious amount of essence you were leaking and also from the building ache but hoseok and jungkook didn’t let you hide away so easily, holding one leg apart, each opening you completely to their gaze. jungkook leaned in first, pressing his face close to your soaked panties inhaling deeply with a guttural groan.

“shitt she smells so good.”

he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your covered core making you twitch.

“i know right?” hoseok adds, already too obsessed from earlier after getting a waft of your pussy when he was so close to it. jungkook begins kissing and sucking marks onto your inner thighs, starting high near the crease and working inward, each harsh suck leaving reddish hickeys.

“j-jungkook..” you stammered as his tongue avoided your pussy entirely and focused around it, only puffs of air hitting it and you squirmed helplessly as hoseok's fingers dug in near your panties.

“spread wider for us princess, let us see how much you need this.” hoseok encouraged when your thighs trembled.

jimin and yoongi were the only ones left to join and they didn't hesitate anymore. their fingers joining to touch you over your panties, fingers expertly finding your swollen clit through the lace.

you whimpered, the pressure was never enough to push you over the edge but just enough to keep you teetering on the brink. jimin's touch was precise, he used the pads of his fingers to rub tight patterns between your folds that made your hips buck, with taehyung and jin watching your pleasured expressions with focused intensity.

“feel that sweetheart?”

yoongi asks as he flicks your clit side to side.

“hmm?” he persists when you don't reply, pressing his thumb against your clit even harder and it felt so much even without them touching you directly.

“y-yes haggh.” you mewled.

yoongi presses the fabric against your folds, rubbing up and down the length of your slit until the lace lewdly sticks between your pussy lips.

“listen to those sounds she's making… fuck.”

seokjin and taehyung conversed among themselves, their eyes focused on your pussy and what the other men were doing and it makes you even more excited if that was even possible, there was something so naughty about having the others comment on you while you were being touched as if there was an audience itself. it doubled the sensations for you as jin and taehyung occasionally tweaked your nubs just to hear you gasp between your moans from the maddening clit rubs that left your pussy clenching, your arousal coating your inner thighs messily now. you couldn't take their teasing anymore as your head thrashes.

“please goshh more... i need more.” you begged breathlessly, not being able to stay still.

jimin offered two fingers, pressing them against your lips.

“open up baby. suck them like you mean it.” he instructed.

you obeyed, eagerly opening your mouth as he slid them past your lips. you swirled your tongue around his fingers, hollowing your cheeks as you bobbed your head slightly. the others watched intently, already imagining you sucking their cocks exactly like this and all their cocks twitched inside their pants while jimin groaned at the wet feeling of your mouth, his eyes growing half lidded wondering how his cock would feel inside your mouth.

“look at that mouth working so well.” jungkook added.

he pushed in his own fingers right next to jimin's, pushing his tattooed fingers so deep that it brushed the back of your throat, his fingers giving slight thrusts as tears brimmed your eyes trying not to gag.

“just like that, get them nice and wet for us.” jimin murmurs.

jin grabs ahold of your hair, not enough to hurt but hard enough to make you feel the slight pain mixed with pleasure as he pulls your mouth to him for a sloppy passionate kiss that leaves you dizzy, swallowing all your noises. you made a throaty sound when jungkook's fingers finally left your mouth, his eyes focusing on your pussy, not being able to stand seeing it covered anymore and from the state of others around, they're impatient as well.

he went down your body as you watched with wide eyes but instead of using his hands to slide them off, he leaned down, your breathing growing ragged. with a dirty glint in his eyes, he caught the edge of the panty between his teeth and began to tug them downwards slowly making the fabric peel away from your core with a wet sound.

your pussy now fully exposed to the seven men and jin and taehyung also joined the others below to look at you making your cheeks flame from the vulnerability of it all and how exposed you felt while two of them spread your legs further until you were eagle spread, your folds parted as well, the soaked panty dragging along your thighs, leaving a trail of your own slickness. your entire body trembles as the cool air hits your center. the panties finally slip past your ankles and jungkook tosses them aside with a satisfied growl.

all of them leaned in closer where you lay bare as if inspecting you and it makes your brow furrow, heart pounding hard. you've never felt more exposed at once while your clit throbbed helplessly. they let out a mix of curses and loud exhales. their eyes held something else entirely, it went far beyond lust like they wanted to eat you whole and never stop. you felt like you were surrounded by seven hungry wolves and you'd give yourself up to them willingly. namjoon's breath hitched audibly, his large hands clenching at his sides as if fighting the urge to touch immediately.

“fuck...” he murmurs.

they'd never seen anything more perfect, it was like you were a work of art.

you were bare except for your thigh stockings and your heels. jin lets out a hum, his plush lips parting as he stared. your folds were swollen and parted slightly to reveal your labia and your gaping entrance, the clit on top shiny from your arousal and throbbing under their gaze. it was as if they were touching you from their stares alone and they hadn't even touched you yet.

“look at how she's clenching around nothing. fuck that's so hot... you're so empty aren't you angel?” jimin asks so adoringly that you let out another soft sound at his endearment.

taehyung stared in awe as he tilted his head, it was as if your pussy itself was begging for their tongues and fingers on its own. they've never wanted anyone more, it was like you're the only woman in the world. they've always appreciated a female body but their bodies never reacted in such a way. they were never so mesmerized. they wanted to learn more about what made you moan or cry, where you liked being touched, what made you giggle and most importantly, what made your precious heart happy.

jimin chuckled with admiration when he saw you hiding your face between your hands because of how overwhelmed you felt from all their eyes on you at once.

“hey baby...”

he removed your hands from your face and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“don't be shy… you're stunning. look at how hard you make us just from staring at you.”

your eyes fall on their tented bulge and it makes you exhale shakily, it was the proof of how true their words were and it gives you a little more strength. yoongi's tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“i bet she tastes even better than she looks.” he comments, tilting his head making your breath hitch.

jungkook still positioned closest, looked up at you with those piercing eyes. you gulped, feeling your stomach flutter.

“i... i've never had anyone look at me like this.” you whispered, trying to find words to say what you truly wanted.

“especially not all of you, i-it feels… too much but good. i feel wanted.. really wanted.”

your pussy gave a clench along with your words, drawing another groan from them by the sight of it and from your words.

“do you want me to eat your pussy baby? nice and slow mm?”

you nodded desperately and jungkook didn't waste time and dived in first, his tongue pressing against your entrance, dragging upward in one lap stroke all the way up to your clit.

“ahhh mm fuck—”

you squeaked at the sensation of his tongue and lip piercing combined and he let out a hiss at the taste. he took his time, eyes locked intensely on yours the entire time, never breaking contact as he repeated the motion, savoring every drop of you like it was the finest wine. the pressure was perfect, not too light and not too rough yet enough to make your hips jerk and your hands fist into the cushions beneath you.

“she tastes incredible joon.” he murmurs to namjoon beside him. you squirm at the feeling of the cool metal of his piercing hitting your clit.

you tasted sweet and tangy at once, it was everything.

your eyes fall closed, not being able to keep them open as your head falls back in sensation. jungkook paused, biting onto your inner thigh, making you gasp as your eyes pop open.

“look at me while i taste you or i stop.” he threatened.

you let out a long moan and kept your teary eyes open, the touches of others sending jolts straight to where jungkook was eating you. namjoon groped one of your breasts, squeezing it while hoseok rubbed his still clothed cock against your thigh not being able to help himself. a damn spot formed on his pants from the precum.

“you want a taste too?”

jungkook smirked at taehyung, who was watching him eat at you with hungry focused eyes and jungkook moved aside to let taehyung have a chance. his tongue felt different, slow yet so deep as he traced every fold with the tip of his tongue. he suckled gently on your clit, humming around it to make your toes curl. your pussy was blooming more and more for them.

“i could do this for hours mmm.” he moaned against you, his tongue dipping inside your hole a bit to collect your fluids.

during all these, your legs were held open so they could eat your pussy with no resistance at all. namjoon's mouth was on your breast now, replacing his hands sucking on your nipple and also leaving a hickey on the underside of it while yoongi watched everything with hooded eyes, squeezing himself over his pants.

“pleaseee!”

you whined loudly, pressing your hips harder towards taehyung's face, feeling yourself getting close but he pulled back slightly with a chuckle looking down at you.

“not yet darling, we all have to have a taste first don't we?”

from his words you knew that the torture was just beginning and you already felt like you'd cum but they were just beginning, they were about to take their sweet time. jimin pressed his mouth against you giving you teasing flicks of his tongue across your clit quickly that built the pressure rapidly before pulling back, leaving you whining pathetically and he almost felt bad but he enjoyed teasing you.

“aww.” jimin cooed, wickedness present as the others smirked.

“you want more don't you? but this pussy is too good to rush.” he rasps, catching a droplet of your arousal that leaks with the tip of his tongue.

in the meantime, jungkook and hoseok latched onto your nipples, simultaneously sucking and biting while their hands roamed your body taking the chance to discover your breasts too since they didn't before and you grabbed onto their hair, holding them to your chest while sobbing. yoongi grunted, watching your pussy while the denial makes your body shake. the room filled with your breathy moans and the wet sound of their mouths working on your body.

namjoon was the first to slide his fingers along your mound and his intentions make you pant as his middle finger presses against your clit, a needy whimper leaving you.

“so fucking wet baby. this pussy's been begging since the club hasn’t it?”

“want it uh…” you whined needily.

taehyung ran two of his long fingers along your outer lips, spreading them apart with his thumbs so namjoon and he could see every slick detail making your thighs quake.

“feel that? she's pulsing so much.” namjoon observed.

you moaned loudly, head falling back when namjoon's fingers breached your entrance before dipping inside so slowly while taehyung continued his exploration on the outer part of you. the feeling of having something inside you from them even if it's just one finger, felt heavenly almost euphoric as he curled his finger immediately against that spongy spot inside you.

“oh god… oh please.”

you let out brokenly your hand fisting jungkook's hair, who still lets little licks on your sensitive nipple. jimin chuckled, his fingers replacing taehyung's on your clit as namjoon added a second finger, scissoring them to open you up as you bit your lip to stifle the cries that were trying to escape and they didn’t like that one bit, they didn’t like you holding back in any way.

“let us hear you princess. don't hold back… that’s it.”

your lips parted to quiet little “ah ah ahs” as namjoon pumped two of his fingers while jimin and taehyung took turns flicking your clit up and down, side to side, whatever motion they desired. your arousal coated their hands and dripped down to soak the couch. your eyes widen when hoseok's hand joins namjoon's, his fingers teasing your entrance around namjoon's thrusting fingers. namjoon's lips curl up as he makes space for hoseok's, whose two fingers slide inside you so easily considering how wet you were.

“nghh oh god i—”

your words cut off in a cry as you felt your pussy stretch and accommodate four fingers. their fingers were already so thick that you were stretched beyond imagination, stretched more than even dicks alone had done to you from just their fingers. you couldn’t imagine what their cocks would do to you then. the burn was delicious, your hips rocked against them chasing the pleasure, feeling your orgasm get so close.

“unngh!”

you bite onto jungkook's clothed chest because he was the closest beside your head making him fist your hair.

“come on boys, make her feel it.”

he grins, earning aroused laughs from namjoon and hoseok. both their fingers curled against your g-spot while taehyung pressed his thumb on your clit, holding it there with a blinding pressure that has your eyes rolling back. your pussy clenching continuously on their invading fingers as they wiggled and twisted their finger inside you as if they were searching for something deep inside you and your legs thrashed, not being able to take too much.

“shhh… you're going so good.”

taehyung soothes you, sensing the overload of sensations. you cried out, back almost lifting off the couch despite the men holding you from all around, your walls fluttering wildly around the intrusion.

“yess fuckk, ah r-right there!”

you wanted more and wanted to escape at once, your mind couldn't catch up from the stretch and the curl, the constant pressure on your clit from multiple hands now taking turns also your breasts never being left alone. you didn’t even realize when namjoon and hoseok left your pussy so that jungkook's three fingers could take place inside you almost immediately, they slid in with no effort as he pumped them roughly.

squelch. squelch. squelch.

it makes loud wet noises that seem to override even your moans and gasps and the men around you groan at the noises too, a pained look on all their faces from holding back. jungkook watched your face contort in ecstasy, his jaw clenched.

“atta girl, squeezing so tight around me, so damn hot… yess.”

he hisses, his thighs starting to grind against the corner of the couch, wanting stimulation from how crazy you are driving him. jin watched everything with dark eyes rubbing against your inner thighs.

“you ready for two more fingers baby?”

jin asks, stroking one of your butt cheeks as you watch him with a swallow, wondering how you'd take two more fingers while jungkook had three inside already but your orgasm was so close you couldn’t think straight and by the way, your pussy was gaping, you wanted more.

“y-y-yes.” you stammered nervously.

“i'll be gentle yeah?” he coaxes.

slowly jin penetrated two of his fingers alongside jungkook's three moving ones, basically fisting you and you let out a loud cry, your toes curling.

“oh god, oh god.” you chanted.

they all watched the way your pussy accommodated several fingers, lips parting hungrily while you were a mess beneath them. they moved their fingers in and out slowly now, mindful of the fullness in a rhythm that had your juices overflowing with pornographic sounds leaving you. your thighs trembled hard and uncontrollably as you struggled to breathe, choking on your saliva.

“i-i can't... it's too much.. feels so good.”

the others paused their actions just to watch jungkook and jin having their moment, hitting your spots relentlessly. taehyung pressed down on your lower belly to heighten every sensation and to feel their fingers moving inside you. your hips bucked wildly but strong hands pinned you down, forcing you to take every bit of pleasure they gave and it was building higher and higher without mercy.

“ah please please let me cum! i need it, i'm so close hahngh.”

you babbled, not even making sense, your hand gripping hoseok's shirt so hard that it ripped, buttons flying all over. the orgasm was so close to hitting you and that's when they decided to stop altogether, fingers leaving your cunt and their touches stopping.

“noooo why?”

you sobbed out tears streaming down your face now. it was as if someone had just snatched your high from you after so long and it left you heartbroken and your body aching.

“we've got you baby.” jimin murmurs soothingly, his hand rubbing circles on your belly while you try to recover from the denial.

amidst that, taehyung had gone upstairs to grab a bottle of lube from a drawer before walking back downstairs, it's like they knew exactly what they planned to do. taehyung's eyes met yours with a smile that somehow made even this intimidating moment feel safe.

“you ever had your ass played with sweetheart?”

jungkook questions and you flush at the question, the hint of what's about to happen making you restless.

“i-i yes… i did touch myself a few times but i didn't have anyone inside t-there.” you stuttered shyly.

you had experimented and fingered yourself on your back hole during moments of need all alone, you even tried butt plugs but that was pretty much it. you weren't so experienced because no one had you there before.

“yeah? do you want us to be your first?” taehyung questions.

you huffed, leaning onto taehyung, your lips falling onto his throat and sucking a mark.

“just make me cum please.” you sign.

“fuck anything you want sweet baby.” he grunts.

their hands are already soothing over your thighs and palms spreading your legs wider, pressing them upward and against your breasts to give them better access to your lower portion.

“we'll go slow okay?”

hoseok's palm stroked the inside of your knee while jungkook's hand rested on your hip. you shuddered from a mix of nerves and arousal. you felt thrilled and excited for what was to come even despite the fact that they didn't let you cum.

yoongi grabs the lube from taehyung, his eyes falling on you, looking almost feral. he had been controlling himself all this time, watching the others have their fun with you while he didn't intervene at all because he was the type to strike at the right time and also because he wanted the part of you that no one took first so he'd held back. your heart races as you look at him lean over you, your hand gripping his shoulder on its own.

yoongi always did the most calculative unthinkable moves and when he attacked, it was always in the most intense way. he drizzled the lube, making the liquid trickle slowly over your tight asshole, you gasp at the sudden unfamiliar sensation.

“breathe for me, in and out.” he instructed and you tried following him, breathing in and out. he circled the pad of his finger around the puckered rim not pushing in yet, just feeling around.

“mmmmm… yeah…”

his free hand rubbed circles on your thigh, coaxing you to relax.

“you're doing so good already.”

jimin murmurs, leaning in closer from the other side, adding more lube with his fingers. it mixed with the juices already leaking from your pussy making everything even more slick while their eyes watched every twitch of your body and the moans that left you.

“ahh... it's cold but feels… good gahh.”

you whimpered, your hips shifting slightly as namjoon held one of your legs steady. they worked you open with patience. multiple fingers from different men joined in. yoongi's thumb continued rubbing over your rim along with jungkook's finger.

“oh—!”

you squealed as taehyung's two fingers sank back into your pussy, doing that scissoring motion making you sob. it seemed more intensified because of your rear being touched.

“fuck she's so tight back here.” jungkook groans and yoongi nods in acknowledgement before slowly pushing the tip of his finger inside as you tense.

“relax just let me in...” yoongi rasps.

you gripped his wrist, whining, trying to not clench too hard while hoseok grabs your thigh, stroking your skin to distract you from any discomfort. yoongi's finger sank deeper and the lube made him sink all the way in so suddenly that you cried out raw.

“oh god... h-hahh.”

yoongi cursed at the feeling of how tight you are.

“color?”

he asks, your bottom lip quivers at his caring tone despite how long he'd held back.

“g-green.”

you gasped and he smirked slowly, starting to pump his fingers while jimin and jungkook touched around your stretched rim or your clit while taehyung still had his fingers pumping, both of them delivering careful thrusts. there was pleasure, pain and so so much ecstasy. you never thought getting fingered on the pussy and ass could feel so good as you couldn't stop moaning. namjoon's mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hard while his tongue flicked the sensitive nipple.

“haah… haah…”

you felt like you'd burst when hoseok leaned closer to your pussy to lick at it, flicking it over your clit. the dual assault combined with the fingers till stretching and pumping inside both your holes was mind shattering and you could barely think straight. namjoon's suction on your nipple intensified, teeth grazing while the others held your legs open, preventing you from closing them against the overwhelming stimulation. yoongi's fingers curled inside your ass, touching the spot that you didn't even know existed and his fingers were extra long, as were taehyung's and both of them continued fucking you with them.

“ah-ah-ah-ah—fuck!”

you saw stars behind your eyelids with tongues on your pussy and the slide of fingers knuckle deep in your ass and cunt and the pull on your breasts. your nipples felt like they were on fire from the constant sucks and bites they received, they were swollen and almost reddened. all of the several sensations were about to do it for you.

“please… p-please! i can't...”

your voice breaks into a series of whimpers.

“i'm gonna... i need to cum... ahh please let me cum!”

they didn't stop their movements at all, drawing it out even slower to heighten the peak.

“yeah?”

he curled his fingers again and again just to see you tremble.

“you only get to cum when we say so.”

jungkook rasps against your clit before sucking into it even harder between his lips, humming vibrations through it making you twitch and wail out.

“please please.” you chant, your head thrashing side to side.

hoseok licks you all over, lapping at the lube and your juices mixed together. namjoon switched to your other nipple, biting down gently while his other hand massaged the first breast. the pressure built unbearably. your asshole and pussy clenching around the digits, every muscle in your body tensed, toes cuddling in your heels as the orgasm finally crashed over you with their permission.

“that's it, let go. cum for us.” yoongi commanded softly, his hand stroking your thigh.

your first orgasm of the night ripped through you and it was more intense than anything you've felt, the first best orgasm of your life. your pussy gushed around taehyung's fingers and your ass spasmed around yoongi's while you screamed, body shaking violently.

“ahh! fuckkk.”

you cursed as you saw stars behind your eyelids while they continued licking and fingering you through it. spurts of liquid left your pussy soaking the couch and their hands and they all groaned, licking at it. even yoongi leaned down to get a taste while making animalistic noises. the aftershocks making you twitch and whimper, your chest heaving as they slowly eased their fingers out making you whimper at the loss. their hands didn't leave you entirely, now murmuring praises.

“you did so well angel...” jimin cooed, kissing your thigh.

their eyes couldn't get enough of you as yoongi brought his glistening fingers to your lips for you to taste yourself.

“mhmm.” you licked obediently, feeling dazed and blissful, doing the same to taehyung's sloppily while still breathing hard.

they let you catch your breath while they looked at you with hunger and need that it made your chest tighten, wondering what they'd do next. that's when one by one they began to undress themselves fully, shedding off their dress shirts and pants that had already been partially opened. the clink of belts and the metallic sound of it makes your eyes hooded as you swallow, staring at them.

taehyung undressed first, taking off his shirt then pushed down his pants and boxers together, revealing his big cock. your eyes widened at how long it was, flushed at the tip from his need as he kicked away his pants. namjoon was next, taking off his shirt to reveal his muscular body, the type that came from gym sessions. his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, curving slightly upward with a prominent vein running along the underside, already glistening with precum.

jimin had all lean muscle, his abs rippling, the nevermind tattoo and the tattoos on his back as he revealed a perfectly shaped dick, not the longest but girthy enough to make your pussy clench at the sight, it looked like it was perfect to hit every sensitive spot. jungkook revealed his tattooed body next as he stripped, your mouth watering at the sight of his tattoos and muscles, revealing a cock that was both long and thick, veiny and aggressive looking, standing proud and pointing at you.

hoseok was confident in his bareness, he just seemed to have a flexible physique like he could put you in any position he wanted, his huge cock bouncing free, slapping against his stomach. jin moved next, revealing his broad chest and shoulder that you stared at with parted lips, his cock was thick as well and he was utterly shameless in it when he grabbed it and gave it a slow stroke, smirking at the way your eyes widened.

finally yoongi undressed last because he was too busy savoring your reactions to the others getting naked. his body was lean and strong, his pale skin makes him sexier and you gasped when his cock was exposed like it was a weapon, along with a slight thickness that promised deep thrusts and he was leaking steadily.

you were in pure awe as you took them all in, surrounded by such raw masculinity in every way possible. it felt so much more fierce because they were all bare. that you didn't even know whom to admire, you wished you had the capability to admire them all at once and to your heart's content. they were magnificent, each uniquely breathtaking and exerted dominance and masculine perfection and their cocks? they were all intimidating despite being different and you couldn't stop staring at them, you wondered if you were drooling.

you felt so incredibly powerful and unreal that you affected the men like that, they were all hard and leaking precum just for you. your pussy still throbbed from the aftershocks but couldn't stop clenching.

“oh my god...”

you whispered, your cheeks burning as you stared openly unable to look away. nothing in the world mattered in that moment except them, the way their bodies looked and the way muscles shifted under their hard and ready cocks because of you. you still couldn't believe that this was happening.

“you're all... so big.”

your tongue felt loose, the words leaving on their own. the men's egos boosted at your reaction, some smirking while the others looked at you heatedly. jungkook ran a hand through his hair, his piercing caught between his teeth.

“fuckk look at her staring like that, like we're the only thing she's ever wanted.”

he murmurs and namjoon chuckles deeply before nodding. you got that look in your eyes. they've had such powerful companies bow for them yet nothing compared to the way you looked at them right now. they didn't even want to compare you to anyone else, you were that special. they felt irresistible in your eyes.

“keep looking at us like that baby and we won't last long enough for everything we want to do to you.” hoseok grumbles.

you shifted forward onto your knees without needing much prompting, your knees sinking to the hard floor but jin quickly grabbed a cushion from the couch and gently placed it under your knees.

“don't want you bruising those pretty knees princess.” he says, stroking your hair once before stepping back as your heart flutters.

the seven of them formed a circle around you, their cocks at your eye level until you could get their clean male scent so well. your pussy dripping anew with eagerness. yoongi stepped forward first. he gathered your hair into a loose ponytail with one hand, pulling you close with a firm tug.

“open those sweet lips for me baby.” he rasps.

you parted your lips with a whimper and he slowly fed his cock into your mouth inch by inch. the taste of salty precum and clean skin made you moan as you took him deeper, your tongue swirling and he groaned, his eyes half closed in pleasure.

“good girl just like that. your mouth feels incredible.”

you relaxed your throat even more at the praise, wanting to do the best for him, taking him further until your nose brushed his pelvis, your eyes watering at the stretch. he held you there for long moments by your hair, savoring the tight heat then his hips started rolling lazily. his free hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“look at me while you take it… yeah just like that.” he growls.

the others watched intently, hands stroking their own cocks.

“she's handling yoongi so well.” hoseok commented huskily.

“look at her throat bulging a little, goddamn it.”

yoongi fucked your throat with such deepness that it left you gasping and moaning around him. he took your mouth for several long minutes, knowing others are still waiting so he reluctantly pulled out with a pop.

“perfect start sweetheart.” he praised.

jin moved in next, he tapped the head of his cock against your tongue almost immediately without letting you catch your breath. doing it a few times enough to make you whine.

“tongue out.” he ordered.

you obeyed dragging your tongue along his cock, letting out an “mmm” at the way he throbbed under your attention. then he guided you lower.

“now my balls suck them.”

jin was a balls kind of man, he had such sensitive balls and he loved it when they were sucked nice and gentle so you did exactly that. you leaned in, taking one into your mouth sucking while your tongue massaged it. your hand came up to cradle the other heavy one. jin let out a long satisfied moan, his head falling back.

“just like that... fuck… you're a natural. swirl your tongue more.”

you tried your best to follow his words, alternating between sucking and kicking while your other hand stroked his shaft as well, not leaving any part of him unattended. he grinned at how eager you were taking care of him so well even after everything they did to you earlier. you were worshipping his balls like they were your favorite treat.

“don't forget the rest of us baby.”

namjoon chuckles, the others making amused impatient noises, dying to get the feel of your mouth. your lips were already swollen and glistened when you pulled off jin's balls to breathe and he was about to slide his cock inside your mouth but hoseok was already taking his place next, his cock throbbing as he guided your head with one hand tangled in your hair.

“come here baby.” he murmurs, making your stomach flip.

your lips remained parted on their own so he slid it inside efficiently. your hand was placed on his thighs to hold on as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked.

“shitt.” hoseok groans, his hips beginning to fuck your mouth, each thrust pushing him deeper until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. you gagged as you heard wet slaps of his skin meeting your face as he picked up the pace, your moans drawing vibrations around him.

“yes… yes keep sucking like you mean it.” he rasps.

“so fucking pretty with your mouth full.” hoseok rocks into your mouth with a few more rolls.

his fingers tightened just enough in your hair to guide you, snapping his hips and burying himself deeper inside your mouth. from his ragged breaths and groans you felt that he was close and he wasn't letting go so easily. saliva dripped down your chin and onto your bouncing breasts.

“ahh.” hoseok pants as you licked along the underside of his shaft on a particularly hard thrust.

“you're gonna make me lose it if you keep that up.”

you only quickened your movements as the men around you were feeding off the sight.

“easy there hobi, don't wear her out too soon.” taehyung teased.

“yeah save some of that energy for the rest of us, give us a chance,” namjoon added, pumping his fist slowly over his cock. jungkook beside him, doing the same.

hoseok even though he was so close, pulled back, breathing hard as he petted your head as if you'd done a good job. they'd all planned to cum together and hoseok didn't wanna break the rule first. namjoon cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing over your precum soaked lips.

“you okay baby? want more?” he asked, checking in before taking his own moment.

“hah y-yes.” you nodded eagerly.

he filled your mouth completely with his cock from how slippery it was from all the fluids of others and your drooling mouth. his hand moved to rest on your throat, just cough to feel the bulge of his cock with every roll forward and you gagged, tears streaming down your face as you tried your hardest to breathe through your nose. his fingers flexed slightly as he controlled the pace so you took him to the hilt, he groans at the way your throat constricts around him.

“this throat feels so tight and good.” he murmurs. eyes half lidded as he watches the outline move under his hand.

“ugnngh!” you make a throaty sound that makes his grip tighten more. he loves the sight of you choking on his cock.

“she's taking it all... so hot.” yoongi observed, his cock still glistening from when you'd sucked his earlier and he used that to stroke himself.

namjoon's thrust grows faster as he fucks your mouth and the eyes and praises of others made your head spin and your thighs squeezing together from the frustration and need to finish once again. jimin stepped up, not wanting to wait any longer and as namjoon's eyes fell on him, he slipped out with a growl.

“perfect... you're absolutely perfect.” jimin hums with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he rubbed the head of his cock along your bottom lip first, tapping it lightly against your tongue without fully entering inside your mouth, pulling back whenever you leaned forward eagerly.

“ah ah, not yet angel.” he cooed.

“chase it… show me how bad you want my cock.”

you let out a whine, eyeing his cock with glistening eyes, tongue out sluttily but he was having his fun making you work for it. you part your lips, your tongue darting out to taste him, only for him to shift his hips to pull his cock away from you at the last second, leaving you whimpering and shifting on your knees. you watched helplessly as a bead of precum left him that you couldn't catch with your tongue, your mouth watering for more.

when he finally let you have him, it was just the tip sliding past your lips before he withdrew again and he let out a smirk. he sure had incredible patience to do this because the others were eager for your mouth while jimin was taking his sweet time. he makes you chase after it, your lips trying to suck him in desperately, each time he allows you just the head of his cock licking off his precum.

“p-please.” you sobbed.

“don't be such a tease jimin.. give our girl what she wants.”

jungkook chuckles hotly and the others nodded with a grin enjoying jimin's little game

“she's loving it though, she'll work even better on me once he's done.” taehyung adds with a grunt, already having made up his mind that he will go next.

“yeah? you want it bad baby?” jimin snarls and before you could reply, he abruptly filled your mouth with his cock, making your eyes widen.

“then suck it good will you?”

you suckled instantly, like you've been given water itself after being thirsty for so long, bobbing your head while making sputtering noises.

taehyung's turn came too slowly as if he knew exactly what he was doing. he sat on the edge of the couch unlike others who decided to take your mouth, standing on his long legs, man spreading so you're able to kneel comfortably between them. his dark eyes locked onto yours without blinking. taehyung's focus was solely on you. he reached down to gently stroke your tear streaked cheeks, it was such a tender touch compared to how hard and throbbing he was against your lips.

“you ready baby?” he murmurs.

you flushed, parting your lips slowly as you enveloped him with your mouth lapping onto the very tip of him as his taste fills your senses. his hand continued to stroke your cheek like you were his darling even as you sucked deeper.

“ugh!” he hissed, hips twitching as he lets you set the pace at first, loving the way you lap at his tip.

“your mouth feels like heaven... keep those pretty eyes on me, don't look away.”

the eye contact made it even more intoxicating as you tried to look up at him through blurry vision due to your tears and it made it even more intimate while he hit the back of your throat.

“just like that.” his head falls back onto the couch with a gasp.

jungkook follows soon, walking up to you with his belt, pulling your mouth off taehyung's cock with a slight tug in your hair that makes you moan. he was so impatient and rough after waiting so long for everyone to have their turns, his hand gripping your hair hard enough for pain to mix with pleasure. taehyung watches with a smirk, a little annoyed that his fun was cut short but he lets the youngest have his fun.

jungkook clasped the belt around your throat like a collar making you gasp, he used it as a handle as he pushed his cock inside your mouth in one go. he growled at the feeling, rolling his hips, throaty noises coming out of you from how immediately he reached the depths of your throat.

“take it deeper… ugh just like that.”

his hips delivered more sharp pumps while pulling your head forward with the help of the belt and you struggled to breathe properly, choking on his cock and your tears, he slowed just a little after a while.

“breathe through your nose baby. you're doing amazing.” he grumbles.

you breathe shakily as he pulls his cock out for a bit to let you breathe.

“mmph-”

your noise gets interrupted because he lets you take one inhale before driving back inside your mouth with full force. what started as you giving jungkook head led to more when the desperation in the group increased and they couldn't keep themselves away especially from how near they were from jerking off and also from the attention you've given to every single one of them differently and you knew what the men wanted without even proper words as you slowly started switching between all seven of them.

there were seven cocks surrounding you in a loose circle and you struggled to even focus properly. one moment your mouth was full with jimin's length sliding in and out of your mouth while yoongi's hand guided your hand to his cock from the side so you'd be able to jerk him off simultaneously.

“ah ah... mmmphmm.”

a mix of their husky moans and your muffled noises was all that could be heard. next you were turning to take namjoon's girth while both your hands jerked hoseok's and jin's cocks in rhythm. your palms were fully slick with spit and precum as you stroked them from the base to the tip.

“she's literally made for this.” namjoon rumbles as he holds your jaw, thrusting into your mouth.

“she can handle all of us together uh-huh?” jungkook lets out an amused groaned noise.

the different tastes and sizes were sensory overload for you, jin's cock filling your mouth and you also switched to sucking his balls like he liked while jungkook rubbed his dick against your face, leaving wet trails of precum on your pink cheeks. their hands didn't leave your body either, fingers tweaking your nipples, stroking your thighs or even guiding your head to the next cock. all this made you drip all over the floor, your pussy producing so much essence. you pulled off taehyun's cock with a gasp, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, only for hoseok to messily kiss you right after, his tongue tangling with yours and he growls at the saltiness from everyone before pushing your mouth back to yoongi's cock.

“oh...” you squealed.

when taehyung rubbed his cock against your cleavage, sliding down to flick your abused nipple with the tip of his cock

“tae pass her to me.” jungkook breathes out.

you whimpered as taehyung pushed your head on jungkook's cock so you'd be able to suck onto him while you twisted and pumped other cocks, occasionally leaning to lick or suck on balls or kiss the heads messily. no one came yet, they were holding back and edging themselves while you rotated between two or three cocks demanding your attention.

they noticed the way your thighs trembled and the sticky mess that was falling on the cushion between your legs and they didn't like neglecting you like that while you were working so hard on them. a shared look of understanding passed between taehyung and jungkook before they kneeled in front of you, making your eyes widen as they positioned you so your legs are spread while your mouth and hands are still able to work on others.

“ah-hahh, shit…”

jungkook and taehyung bury their heads between your spread thighs, their hot mouths devouring your pussy with hunger as your mouth couldn’t stop producing mindless noises. jungkook's tongue dragged slowly from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit in long strokes, his lip piercing hitting your clit every time, sending shivers up your spine with every pass. taehyung focused on tracing every fold with the tip of his tongue, sucking on your clit whenever jungkook moved his focus on your opening.

“hmm...”

he hummed, the vibration along with the dual sensations was overwhelming. both their mouths worked insistently as if they had all the time in the world, their tongues occasionally brushing against each other sloppily while your hips bucked. around you, the other five men stroked their thick cocks with pumps of their fists, their dark eyes locked on your writhing body.

“fuckk.” namjoon breathes.

his large hand gripped his length firmly, thumb swiping over the leaking tip as he watched jungkook's tongue disappear inside you continuously. you looked so goddamn pretty taking both their tongues like that.

“she's making a mess joon. watch how much she’s leaking.”

seokjin's lips curved up in a smirk as he let out a raspy chuckle with namjoon, both of them stroking their cocks side by side.

“she sure is.” he groans.

jin couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to grope one of your heaving tits to roll and pinch the nipple until you whimpered. hoseok's hips suddenly snapped forward, slapping against your parted lips. he panted smearing his precum on your bottom lip.

“mmph!” you let out a muffled sob when in one go, hoseok stuffs your mouth full of cock, almost cutting off your airflow, his eyes growing half lidded with lust and pleasure. yoongi and jimin were almost hypnotized with the sight of your pussy being so thoroughly eaten as hoseok grabs the belt around your throat that was being used as a collar and uses it as leverage to fuck your throat. pulling you closer with sharp tugs of the belt, fucking your mouth like his personal sex toy while choking you with the collar.

gluck. gluck. gluck.

the wet sounds of your throat getting fucked were all that was ringing in your ears along with the obscene slurps and sucks from between your legs. the men around you let out shared masculine moans and groans. you let out broken whines that you couldn’t hold back no matter how hard you tried, struggling to breathe.

“oh god...”

jungkook growled against your cunt as the two mouths between your thighs pushed you higher and higher. they held you apart when your thighs trembled so the others could get the perfect view.

“you're clenching so damn much baby.”

taehyung grumbles as two of his fingers slide inside you effortlessly from how slippery and wet you were while jungkook's tongue focused on your clit with renewed vigor.

“she's probably gonna cum again… she’s squirming so much.” jimin says and the other men made noises of affirmations.

hoseok pulled his cock out not giving you a chance to catch your breath as yoongi takes position and is already grabbing a fistful of your hair. he feeds you his cock and you couldn't help but clench on jungkook's tongue, making him let out a muffled groan, diving in again while taehyung latched onto your clit.

“taste so fucking sweet, are you gonna cum again for us princess?” taehyung pulls back enough to speak.

“ummmhg.” you let out a whine on yoongi's cock and he smirked

“yeah you will?”

one of his fingers joining to curl inside your pussy, making you sob, your eyes closing on their own. the others around you stroked their cocks right in front of your faces, stroking faster and faster, their breaths growing ragged muscles tensing. they also made you switch between sucking cocks of whomever you could and squeezing until you almost forgot whose cock you were touching or whose one was getting inside your mouth, you just blindly followed whatever they guided on you while jungkook and taehyung kept fingering and licking you beneath, stroking their own cocks. your boobs sometimes groped or squeezed against their cocks and also slid against each other. their eyes devouring your tear streaked flushed face, your body twitching hard.

you knew that they were so close. one by one they began to cum in sequence. all you could hear were groans and curses and the noises of liquid hitting the floor. jungkook pulled back from your pussy when he reached his peak with a harsh breath, stroking himself furiously over your mound before letting thick ropes of cum land across your pussy lips and clit, painting them white.

“fuuuuck yes marking this cunt right up.”

he hissed through gritted teeth while taehyung continued licking around the mess tasting your juices and jungkooks release mixed together with a moan his hand working faster as well. you pant against jimin's thigh, your forehead rested against it, all your attention diverted to the men coming around you instead of your own pleasure. namjoon aimed for your open mouth as you panted, his cum shooting across your tongue.

“shallow for me, take every drop.”

he commanded and you obeyed, gulping down everything. there was a slight bitter edge to his cum and you loved it. seokjin followed next, groaning deeply as he came across your tits and stomach, squeezing the last beads onto your skin while you squirmed.

“shitt yes yes...”

hoseok lets out groans as he cums against your cheek and lips, some landing on your tongue as you lick it up instinctively. jimin and yoongi targeted your breasts and belly, adding to the mess that now coated your upper body and within a few minutes, taehyung cums all over your ass cheeks too. the sticky warm fluid was everywhere and there was so much of it sliding over your curves, dripping down your sides and mixing with your sweat. fingers from some of them joined in pushing their combined release into your mouth, feeding you more as you moaned around the digits.

“such a good little cumslut.”

yoongi murmurs, roughly pushing two fingers coated in cum past your lips for you to suck clean. the taste of their release mixed together was so erotic that you couldn't stop gasping and whimpering. their cum slid down your forehead and eyelashes and they loved it, it made them even more possessive at the sight of you glazed by them.

you were their personal canvas.

taehyung scooped some of his cum from your ass and brought it to your lips too.

“shallow it all down baby, show us how much you love being ours.” he exhales.

jungkook and hoseok rubbed their softening cocks against your cum covered tits, smearing the white fluid further while namjoon and jin worked with their fingers to gather more and feed it to you, making you drink copious amounts of seed.

jin made you clean his cock properly while he groaned in approval before yoongi joined in, letting you clean every trace of his release, sucking at the tip while he stroked your hair. hoseok went next, guiding your head as you took him deeper while residual cum dripped from your chin and onto his shaft. he murmurs out soft praises while you move to clean namjoon as well with slow licks, smiles on all their faces in the afterglow.

you cleaned taehyung and jungkook together while they caressed your cheeks sweetly, ending with jimin, finishing cleaning all of them thoroughly.

your breasts heaved with every inhale as there was silence for a bit while you leaned there on the floor, your thighs quivering from the multiple edges they'd brought you with their tongues and fingers. your mind was hazy after giving all of them head even though they'd made you swallow a lot of it. cum still dropped slowly from your chin and onto your collarbone, you could still taste some on your lips. jungkook panted and moved closer first as he looked at you with lingering hunger as he brushed a strand of hair from your sticky forehead.

“so beautiful covered in us... you took everything we gave you.” he murmurs in genuine awe.

taehyung nodded in response.

“are you feeling okay y/n?”

the others gathered closer too. hoseok wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, jimin biting his lip as he admired the view and yoongi watched you, all of them waiting for your response. you nodded weakly at first, your throat hurting from sucking them and the constant moaning.

“i... am good more than good, that was...”

you couldn't find the proper words to finish your sentence but you were honest, it was everything and you shifted slightly, still feeling the ache of your unfinished release. the men exchanged glances, silent communication passing through them.

“she's still with us guys.”

jungkook said with a grin, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your forehead. jin reaches down to take off the belt from around your throat, letting you breathe properly. the belt left a pink mark that made them let out appreciative noises.

“drink some water first, you've worked hard and if we're gonna keep this going, you need to stay hydrated.”

hoseok coos as he walks over to grab a cool water bottle from the fridge, having no shame in walking around naked, his cock bouncing and it makes you flush harder. he uncapped it, holding it to your lips himself, tilting it carefully so you could sip slowly. it soothed your raw throat as you drank greedily, some of it spilled down your throat mixing with their cum.

even drinking water looked sinful on you.

they let you rest for a few longer minutes, their presence comforting you, hands roaming soothingly on your body while murmuring praises about how responsive you've been and how well you took them.

“think she's ready for more?” taehyung asked the group.

“she's nodding already, she's eager... aren't you angel?”

you smiled as you let out a sigh.

“yeah... i wanna continue.”

you admitted, your voice gaining new strength, no longer hoarse after the water and the break from them. the men lit up with renewed need, their cocks already twitching back to life at your words.

after a few more minutes of the rest period, they also helped wipe you clean with some tissues, not wanting you to be uncomfortable because of the stickiness and for what was coming next and they did that slowly, taking their time even if some of their cocks were already standing hard.

seokjin scooped you up as if you weighed nothing and into a bridal style, your body pressing against his chest. you gasped at the sudden lift, your arms wrapping around his neck, feeling his heart thud beneath your palm which told you that his heartbeat matched with yours. the others followed as jin carried you upstairs, your head resting against his chest, inhaling his scent.

“we've got you beautiful.” jin whispered.

they led you into the massive master bedroom which had a soft light giving a sensual glow. jin laid you gently in the very center of the bed, your body sinking into the mattress while they stood taking you in and how your thighs pressed together instinctively. there was so much desperation and anticipation. you were gonna lose a lot of fluids before the nights over so they were glad that you drank water.

“tell us baby... do you wanna keep going?”

you nodded, feeling impatient but still a little over the moon from their constant checks but you felt so good and naughty that you couldn't stop anymore.

“i want you all raw please... i-i'm on birth control, i want you inside..” you whine sultrily.

you didn't give them a moment to react before you shifted onto your hands and knees in the center of the bed, arching your back, invitingly presenting yourself to him. your ass swayed slightly as you looked over your shoulder and at them with half lidded eyes, your hair falling on one shoulder.

“make me yours tonight, use me like your little toy.”

the words came out confidently with no hint of nervousness, all your shyness and shame gone as you wiggled your hips in an attempt to seduce as if they weren't already. your spread thighs gave them the best view of your cum soaked puffy pussy. you have no idea what you've just unleashed and you're gonna face the consequences of that.

“did you hear that guys? she's already begging to be bred.” namjoon said with a wicked smile.

“that's exactly what we're gonna do.” jimin adds.

they couldn't wait to watch you take every load of cum inside your pussy. they've been pretty lenient with your mouth but they don't think that they'll go any easier on all your holes when you've just given them free rein. hours of pleasure were still to arrive.

yoongi of course was the first one to claim you based on the knowing look from the others who knew that he was going to be first as a primal look took place in his expression. without a word at first, he pulled you onto his lap in reverse cowgirl position making you yelp. your back pressed flush against his chest so that every other man in the room had a perfect view of your body. he gripped your hips firmly before one wrapped up to wrap around your throat making your breath hitch.

“y-yoongi..” you stammered as he bites your earlobe.

“sir. call us sir.” he corrects you, making you swallow, already lifting your hips enough to keep you suspended over his cock.

“sir... ahhh, oh my gosh.”

he rolls his hips, letting the head of his cock drag between your folds teasingly before notching himself right at your entrance and sliding inside you inch by inch while you can't stop writhing.

“nghh.” you let out a mewl when he was fully seated and he didn't waste much time before starting to thrust, the head of his cock dragging inside you with every grind making your walls flutter around him.

“so fucking tight.”

he grunts, his eyes half closing. the feeling was better than any drugs or money could provide, the feeling of your warm tight hole around him. the other men were already feeling jealous and extremely impatient, wanting to get a feel of your pussy too. they started pumping their cock with their hands, all their eyes locked on where yoongi's cock disappeared inside your dripping cunt.

in and out. in and out.

“ahh fuck... you're squeezing me so good like you never want me to leave this pussy.” he growls.

his thrusts remained torturous, sometimes circling his hips in a way to make him go deep and it made you let out the most delicious noises, his lips brushing against your ear as his grip on your throat tightened just a fraction. his free hand slid down to spread your folds wider with two fingers to expose you for the viewing pleasure of others and they could see every intricate detail of how he fucked you. the way his cock filled you and pressed against your inner walls, your body trembled as did your thighs on either side of his legs from their gazes.

you were also shocked at how they were all rock hard again so soon, their cocks hard and heavy as they jerked themselves lazily, enjoying the show yoongi was putting on. your pussy clenched around yoongi's length as he fucked you with measured thrusts that seemed to reach deeper than physically possible. the hand around your throat made your head spin, heightening every sensation until you felt like you might shatter. you were also having a cock inside you after years and he was so big that you couldn't remain still, it felt like you might shatter any moment.

“yoongi… oh god, it's so deep.” you gasped out, hands gripping his thighs for leverage as you tried to meet his thrusts.

he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back as he picks up the pace just a notch, snapping his hips up.

“too much for you huh?”

“let them know how much you love it shitt.”

he sent you spiraling, your walls fluttering as you felt the orgasm build for the second time tonight, your entire body tensing. the others couldn't take their eyes off you, their chests tightening along with their hands on their cocks. with a final deep thrust and a loud groan, he buried himself fully inside you, his cock twitching as he spilled thick ropes of cum inside you.

“yess yes...”

you babbled as his cock kept moving, some of his cum pushing out with his pumps. it triggered your own climax crashing over you hard making you convulse hard around him, your juices coming out as your back arched against him.

“that's it.”

he encouraged, his hand loosening on your throat to grip both your thighs as he kept going slowly through both your orgasms, ensuring you felt every throb. the others let out groans as well, their strokes pausing momentarily at how you both orgasmed.

“you tired her out already man.” hoseok laughed breathlessly, his cock twitching.

yoongi stayed inside you for a long moment, grinding to push his cum deeper as you rested against him while breathing hard. he didn't wanna leave the feel of you around him so soonbbut he reluctantly eased out with a wet pop, a trail of fluid leaking down your thighs. you made a frustrated little sound at the empty feeling. hoseok gave yoongi a smirk, the energy was practically wafting off him even before he reached you as he patted yoongi on the shoulder.

“you set the bar high didn't you huh?”

yoongi's lips curled, feeling satisfied but already looking forward to his next turn with you.

“take your time with her then.” he whispers to hoseok.

you were already limp, pussy clenching around nothing, eyes glassy as you looked up at hoseok. he flipped you onto all fours, positioning you to face the large mirror on the opposite wall so you could watch yourself while the others got a view too and it already has you panting. he lined up behind you and right on your slit, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. he didn't give you any moment to suck in a breath, it was so abrupt it knocked the air out of your lungs. he slammed home all the way inside with one thrust, stretching you open again amidst yoongi's cum.

“ahhh!” you screamed.

the hard fucking began immediately, his hips snapping forward relentlessly, his balls hitting your clit with every deep plunge. each thrust drove you forward slightly on the bed, your breasts swinging while you watched your face contorted in pleasure in the mirror along with the way his cock drove inside you and it made you even hornier and turned on.

“look at yourself and how good this cunt is taking my cock.” he snarled.

his one hand fisted your hair to keep your head up, forcing you to watch yourself. the others made manly noises enthusiastically, full of dirtiness.

“go harder hobi, she loves it rough.” jungkook urged

“she's absolutely gone.” jimin chuckles darkly, watching you in the mirror, leaning closer for a better view.

“uh… uh… uh…”

you let out with each thrust of his. the position and the angle make hoseok hit that spot inside you over and over and especially that combined with the cum inside you makes everything wetter, sloppier, more obscene. your walls fluttered wildly as you felt another of your orgasms building so fast from the brutal pace.

“s-s-sir, it's so good gahh!” you moaned loudly, pushing back against him desperately.

hoseok had started pounding into you with an intensity, his hands gripping your hips to keep you anchored in one place, your walls fluttering around him as the pressure built higher and higher towards another peak. hoseok's breath came in growls as he chased his own release he was so close to.

“gonna fill this pretty pussy up.” he groans but just as your orgasm hovered right on the brink, it all suddenly stopped.

jungkook moved closer all of a sudden, his hand shooting forward with determination.

“it's my turn now.”

jungkook gruffs out. it was like he was possessed by lust at the sight of your pussy being taken by others and he couldn't control himself, all he wanted was to feel you around him and couldn't even wait for a single moment. he was already pulling hoseok back by the shoulder and he let out a frustrated groan, his cock slipping out of your dripping heat.

“jungkook what the fuck? i was so close, she was right there clenching like she was going to cum any second too.”

hoseok complained, his cock throbbing angrily in the air, glistening as he shot jungkook a half annoyed and half amused glare, wiping sweat from his brow as he stepped aside reluctantly.

“you can have her right after man.” jungkook promised with a smirk at his lips. he scooped you up in a second from the bed as if you were nothing more than a delicate doll made for his pleasure.

“right now i wanna have her like this and fuck her.” he declared smugly, his eyes locked on yours in a way that makes your stomach flip.

it makes you let out a long moan because you loved it and this is what you wanted, wanted them to reduce you to their sexual plaything to pass around and claim as they pleased and it sent a shameful heat to your core. it turned you on more than you care to admit. another gush of wetness trickled down your thighs as jungkook maneuvered you into position. everyone was silent for a beat, a little shocked at the raw power jungkook exerted himself when he lifted you completely off the ground and into a full suspended hold, his strong arms hooked under your knees, folding your legs up and apart and blanching you like that, completely immobilizing you and exposing you. somehow the position made your puffy pussy get even more exposed to everyone. your back pressed against his chest while he stood as if he wasn't just balancing your whole body with just his arms alone.

you yelped sharply at the vulnerability of it all, your body suspended mid air, utterly at his mercy, your heels dangling.

“j-jungkook—”

he cut off your words with a click of his tongue, making a disapproving noise.

“yoongi specified to call us all 'sir' didn't he? you're seeking to get punished hmm?”

your lips part from his words, the position working against you in the nastiest way.

“i'm sorry sir.” you signed.

“now that's more like it.”

“she looks so helpless like that.” namjoon murmurs from the side, watching the way your pussy lips parted invitingly.

“jungkook's showing off his strength again.”

taehyung nods, grabbing a cigarette from the drawer beside him and lighting it with a flick of his lighter, taking a puff of smoke and blowing it out while his other hand strokes his cock.

“stretch that cunt wide for us.” seokjin grins.

“she's probably just soaking even more just from being held like that.”

hoseok adds, watching patiently, waiting to strike as soon as jungkook finishes but enjoying the show as well. jungkook adjusted his grip, his cock nudging insistently against your entrance. he teases you for a bit, rubbing the broad head up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your essence while you whimpered and squirmed in his hold.

“you want this don't you baby? want me to fuck you mid air like the needy slut you are for us?” he growled hotly against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“ohh yes please sirr... fuck me..”

and as quick as those words left your lips, jungkook slowly buried himself inside you, the sheer force lifting you slightly higher before gravity pulled you back down on his length. you saw stars behind your eyes from his size and the position made you tighter than anything. you cried out when he started moving using his immense strength to bounce you up and down his cock. each upward drive of his hips sent his cock slamming into you, producing loud wet noises as your juices coated him and dropped down onto the floor below.

“aaahh… yes…”

your body jolted, tits jiggling wildly, your head thrown back against his shoulder as moans poured uncontrollably from your lips. he kept his hands tight below your thighs, it kept unable to do anything more than take everything he gave you. his muscles strained from the efforts, veins popping along his arms and neck but he showed no signs of tiring, only pure focus.

“shittt she's creaming all over your cock already.” jimin observed.

“pound that pussy kook.” taehyung whistles, taking in another puff of his cigarette.

“don't forget to save some for me later, you greedy brat.”

hoseok added with a laugh. jungkook was clearly wearing you out quickly and the words from them only seemed to fuel him further. his thrusts are growing faster and harder, your cries escalating. he adjusted the angle slightly, grinding deep on every downstroke so his cock head kissed your cervix repeatedly while your pussy tightly held him, he felt so much bigger than he already was. the pressure built rapidly inside you, the unfinished orgasm from hoseok has left it coming back in full force so that it was almost painful, your clit twitching hard and untouched.

“sirrr gahh fuck i'm gonna—” your voice breaks in a wail.

“cum for me, let everyone watch.”

he commanded through gritted teeth, his own release approaching fast as he felt your pussy spasming. a loud scream that ended in a sob left you as you came harder than you ever had, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. you'd never squirted ever in your life and it was the very first time that your body couldn't keep up with it. clear fluid gushed out around his pistoning cock in squirts, soaking his thighs fully and landing so much of it down to the floor in a puddle. your vision whitened, every inch of your body locking up in ecstasy. jungkook groaned deeply, the feeling of your squirting pussy pushing him over the edge.

“fuckk yes take it all.”

he roared, burying himself as deep as he could, his cock pulsing hard inside you, thick cum flooding your womb in seconds, filling you to the brim. he held you there suspended, both of you panting and trembling, his cum mixing with your squirt.

“damnn she squirted so much...” hoseok grins, already moving closer.

“good job kook. now hand her over, i still need to finish what i started.”

jungkook slowly lowered you down onto the bed and you fell on your stomach from how exhausted you were even though you anticipated the other five of them. hoseok took his second turn hard and rough, he was already so close due to being inside your pussy the first time and the frustration had left him rougher than usual.

“fuckkk.” he snarls as he slides inside you with a loud noise from behind. you let out a wanton noise, murmuring his name.

“oh shit—oh shit—!”

you let out a string of curses when he reached around to rub your neglected clit in circles, feeling how engorged it is since nobody touched it for a while.

“goshhh yes.” you whined at it. your mouth fell open in an 'o' when it took him just a few more hard thrusts to fill you to the brim. there was so much cum from jungkook before as well that it soaked the sheets and made your thighs sticky with the creamy white mess. he pulled away from you with a shaky breath.

they let you have a few minutes of breath, your head buried on the pillow as your lower body quivered.

jin slowly walks forward, his hands settled on your back, caressing your sweaty skin. your hand fisted the sheets as you turned your head, your eyes longingly looking at his pouty lips and he didn't think twice and pressed his lips against yours, giving you a slow kiss. you whimpered when he pulled back, his arms pulling you close to him. his hands settled on your hips as he lay back against the pillows, one arm casually folding behind his head, his half lidded eyes sparkling with playfulness settled on you he guided you to straddle him, his thick cock standing proud and flushed against his abdomen.

“come on baby.” he whispers, stroking your ass.

“ride me. move those hips for me yeah?” he rasps. you felt a heat pool in your belly at his words as you sat on his hard stomach, breasts heaving as he cupped your cheek. your hips pressed against his abs, he helped you right above his cock, your breaths coming out fast.

“slowly…” he encouraged and you nodded jerkily as the head of him pressed against your puffy entrance.

you felt overstimulated in the best way and from cumming twice, it left you feeling floaty. he slowly stretched you open, giving you that burn that made your thighs tremble around his waist as you bore down more with a few gasps and sank down fully, his girth filling you completely until your ass met his hips and you were fully seated around him.

“hahhh!” you mewled as jin's face twisted in pleasure and at the feeling of your creamy cunt from all the loads you'd taken, it had left you warmer and even better inside. his free hand slid up your side before cupping one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple in tiny flicks that sent jolts through you.

“fuckk that's it.”

he groaned, his head tilting back slightly to expose the column of his throat, his adam's apple bobbing as he savored the tight heat enveloping him.

“move sweetheart. ride my cock like you mean it.”

he didn't push you at all, his hand caressed one of your butt cheeks, holding it spread so the others from behind could stare at the way his cock was inside you while he let you set the pace. your hands braced on his chest for balance as you began to roll your hips, lifting and sinking down in a slow grinding rhythm that dragged his cock along your inner walls with every motion.

“nnn… nnn… ahhh…”

pleasure started to build and he didn't push you so you were able to please yourself on him and he understood that you were a bit overstimulated so this was really helping you as you enjoyed yourself.

he hit the best spots on every downward stroke and your toes curled at the tingling feeling, your breath came out in needy squeals. sweat trickled down your back as the pace gradually quickened, your breasts bouncing with the movement and jin was hypnotized with the motion. his hand tightened on you, his jaw clenching with restraint as he helped you bounce on him, just bucking his hips up a little bit to meet you driving himself deeper. quiet whimpers left you. from the side of the bed, yoongi had been watching his lips parted slightly, lost in his control even though he'd had this turn at the very beginning but he couldn't help it.

“can't just sit here and watch anymore.”

he mutters huskily as he moves closer on the bed, positioning himself right beside seokjin. his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as you continued riding seokjin and then his mouth was on you so suddenly you choked out and gripped his hair in shock.

“w-what—” you gasped when his mouth grabbed onto your clit, sucking onto it making your entire body jerk.

“mmm so sweet..”

he hummed as he circled your clit, flicking at it with his tongue, teasing it before sucking it fully inside his mouth. his tongue technology was everything, he was an expert and so skilled it was so good, he was the best at eating pussy, sometimes lapping along your folds where they stretched around jin's cock.

“nnn… y-yes.”

your eyes closes, your motions faltering on jin's cock from taking both of them. it felt too much with the drag of jin's cock combined with yoongi's expert mouth devouring you. you almost lost yourself in the sensation of yoongi's tongue when a burst of pain from the spank of jin's hand made your eyes pop open with a cry, his hand immediately soothing the spot.

“don't stop moving.” jin commanded, a glare on his face, delivering another slight spank that made your pussy clench hard around him.

“keep riding me while yoongi eats your clit. you can take it yeah?”

the pain pleasure mix made you moan loudly, your movements resuming on their own with urgency, grinding down harder and faster as yoongi's tongue lapped at the mess where you and seokjin were joined, tasting both of you and also the mix of others that leaked out of you without hesitation, letting out groans at the taste. the others eyes gleamed at the pornographic sight.

“look at her go.”

jungkook breathed, biting his lower lip, watching the way yoongi's tongue worked on you while you quivered constantly and drooled from how intense it was for you.

“ride him harder, make him feel it.” jimin calls out. the others laughed lazily at his words.

“don't go easy on her man!”

he didn't go easy on you at all as jin tensed beneath you, his hips snapping up more insistently now to meet your frantic rides, his cock swelling inside you.

“shit i'm gonna cum.” he gasped.

his hand that was behind his head now gripping your waist with both hands to pull you down hard repeatedly as he thrusts up at you.

“milk me baby cum with me.” he encourages roughly.

all this while, yoongi's tongue never stopped sucking on your clit with the perfect pressure.

“don't stop—don't—ahhh!”

“never gonna stop baby.”

jin promises and after a particularly harsh suck from yoongi that even jin could feel on his cock, he finishes with hot spurts of his cum flooding you that pushed you right over the edge. you came even faster and harder than you expected while his cock draws out every drop. you let out a series of gasps as juices mixed with his cum coated yoongi's chin as he continued licking through it to prolong the contractions. the full wet heat and the sting on your ass from the spanks made you feel like you broke as seokjin held you close, still impaled on his cock. yoongi pulled back with a satisfied noise, lips shiny and swollen.

before you could catch a breath, taehyung and jimin came over to you, not one but two and the thrill of what the two of them were going to do made your eyes go round comically. taehyung was the first to grab your waist and pull you firmly against his chest, the smell of tobacco and sex clinging to him, while jimin slid in from the other side, pressing against your back until the both of them sandwiched you, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

“we've been waiting to feel this tight body up close.” jimin whispers, and taehyung nibbled at your collarbone.

“i can already tell she's gonna feel so tight around me.”

he adds, earning a smirk from jimin and you shuddered violently at their words. with slowness, taehyung and jimin both together worked to take off your thigh high stockings and your heels, taking off the only set of clothes on your body and now you were fully naked from head to toe. after that taehyung grabbed a silk tie from the drawer.

“put those hands up..” he coos and you gulp but obey shakily.

he bound your wrists above your head to the headboard. he tied it securely but not too tight, just enough to make sure you couldn't get out of it no matter how hard you tried. he leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your arms, lingering on the pulse point at your wrist, smiling at the way it raced.

“is this okay love? not too tight is it?” he asked and you nodded breathlessly, the vulnerability of being tied down made everything heightened for you. jimin watched, his hands already sliding down to pry your thighs wide apart.

“good.” jimin nods as he holds you open.

“damn they've really did a number on her…” jimin husks, watching the copious amount of cum your pussy seemed to leak.

taehyung settled between your thighs, not being able to hold himself back from the lewd sight of your stuffed cunt. his cock nudges against your folds, coating himself in your juices and he grunts at the feeling of hitting the tip of his cock on your clit, making your hips twitch with a whimper but jimin kept you pinned and open, not letting your thighs close. namjoon slowly joins the duo too, his hand cupping your jaw to turn your face toward him for a kiss.

“mnnn…” you let out a muffled noise, kissing him back, both your tongues tangling messily while his hand roamed to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples. taehyung's cock finally on the other hand, pushed inside you inch by thick inch and you moaned and cried loudly into namjoon's mouth, who was busy sucking on your tongue, his fingers tugging your nipples until they ached.

“she feels incredible fuckk.”

taehyung groaned deeply as he bottomed out inside you, his hips flush against yours, pelvis grinding against you which stimulated your clit too.

“so tight so hot, this pussy was made for us wasn't it princess mhm?” he grumbles as he feels you pull him in deeper with every little twitch.

“unngh..”

you let out another moan against namjoon's mouth while taehyung pulled back almost completely before sliding in again with that torturous slowness, making his cock drag against your inner walls and it made a loud squelch sound from how wet you are. namjoon kissed you more insistently, his teeth grazing your lower lip before he pulled back to let you breathe as he watched your face contort from ecstasy, his fingers not stopping playing with your nipples, kneading the flesh until they were more swollen than before, it made a slight pain mix with it.

“hnngh… ngh… mmh…” you let out all your desired noises after namjoon pulled away. he sometimes focused on sucking on your nipple too.

“that's it tae fuck her, watch the way her pussy clenches around you hm.. she's loving every second,”

jimin was mesmerized with the way taehyungs cock slides in and out especially from getting a proper close up view now instead of standing away, his hands faltering on holding your thighs open. taehyung lets out an approved grunt at his words while you struggle to keep up with all three of them playing with your body like this, you can't even move or shift due to being tied down, your hands clenching into tight fists, knuckles turning white. tears welled in your eyes as taehyung hits your g-spot, his breathing growing ragged as he grows increasingly close to his release.

“i'm so close..” he groans, pounding into you, making your body shift forward so hard that you had to grip the headboard.

“ahh.”

you and taehyung let out shared groans as he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. ropes of cum painted your inner walls as he stayed inside next for long moments, grinding to push his release deeper and leaning down into you, kissing your neck. taehyung shoots jimin a look before pulling out with a wet dirty sound, his cum already starting to leak from your used hole as jimin took his place seamlessly in the same missionary position. taehyung was the one now holding your thighs apart, spreading you wider so everyone could see the mess as jimin's cock slid between your cum slick pussy with ease from so much fluid making him so slippery that he lets out a breathless chuckle. namjoon shifted impatiently, watching taehyung and jimin take turns with you and he was the only one left so he rubbed his cock against the side of your face, smearing precum across your cheek before tapping it against your lips.

“open up angel, suck me while jimin fucks you.” he pants.

your lips part wetly to take him in as he slides inside and at the same time, jimin slides inside you.

“ugnngh!” you sobbed around namjoon's cock, tears streaming down your face.

“oh goddd she's even sloppier, it feels like heaven.”

you let out muffled groans around namjoon's shaft as he slowly started pumping. taehyung leaned down to kiss wherever he could reach, your neck, your breasts, your stomach while he kept your legs pinned. the others watched everything, the satisfied group did so after they had their chance, stroking themselves and throwing their dirty crude comments and murmuring among themselves about you and it makes you feel wilder. a bit more animalistic. you were completely a crying mess by now, your body trembling from the overstimulation from your cunt being taken again and again while you couldn't moan or breathe properly due to namjoon's cock. jimin's thrusts grew faster while you sucked namjoon. taehyung hadn't let you cum earlier so even before jimin had cum, you started cumming on him while thrashing, your hair falling messily on your face, your pussy clenching and gushing. your body tried to buck but couldn't from your hands being tied and your legs held.

“yesss!”

jimin moans out, letting out some sweet whimpers too at how hard you were clenching on him like you were trying to milk him for all he was worth. namjoon held your head steadily, giving a few thrusts before pulling back slightly from your mouth and you gasped for air loudly.

“she's our girl for sure… keep going jimin.” namjoon snarls.

the feeling of you cumming around his cock so quick made him cum almost soon after as well, some landing on your stomach as namjoon watched, stroking his saliva coated cock. namjoon carefully turned you onto your stomach and then guided your hips up, positioning you on your knees while your upper body remained pressed against the sheets. he spread your ass to press his throbbing cock against your pussy, groaning low in his throat. behind you, jungkook moved in closer, his lip piercing pressing against your skin as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, your stomach flutters at having him close once again.

“we're gonna take you together now baby, me in this tight ass while namjoon takes this pussy, do you understand?”

“i wanna hear you say it...” he rasps.

your mind was hazy with lust, tears of pleasure drying on your cheeks, it's like you existed for it only and you were willing to take whatever they gave you.

“y-yes p-please... i want it please.” you gasped out, needily pushing back against namjoon's cock.

“i want both of you.”

jungkook chuckles against your skin as he reaches for the bottle of lube on the bedside table that taehyung has brought with him while coming upstairs as if he just knew it'd be needed again soon. he poured a generous amount over his cock, stroking himself slowly, mixing his precum with him and making himself so slick while he breathed heavily. he added more lube directly to the right ring of muscle of your ass that was exposed from being held open by namjoon. he did it patiently, coating your outside completely and some of the cum and fluids had also dripped down to your ass so you were already so wet but he didn't wanna hurt you in any way and wanted to make sure that you were comfortable.

“ohh...”

you moaned when one of his fingers penetrated you, lubing your insides too while namjoon continued rubbing his cock head against your pussy, dipping just the tip in and out to keep you on edge making you tense.

“relax i'm gonna make it feel so good for you sweet girl.”

jungkook promised, his free hand keeps your ass cheeks spread more as he worked a second finger in scissoring to prepare you just like yoongi had done downstairs. he crooked his fingers just right, brushing against the special spot making you sputter as your head thrashed side to side, not being able to make much movement from being tied down. namjoon leaned down, his chest pressing against your back.

“you're taking kook's fingers like a champ.” he praised.

when jungkook finally deemed you ready, your ass stopped clenching too tight and had started fluttering instead in anticipation. he pulled his fingers free and lined up his lubed cock at your ass.

“ohhhhh fuck…”

you sobbed when your ass stretched immensely around his cock, your entire body shaking as he sank deeper, his groans mixing with yours at the feel of the tight channel.

“so fucking tight, let me in... yes.” he gritted out, one hand reaching around to rub your clit to distract you from the pain and it definitely did help as you breathed in and out.

when jungkook was halfway in, namjoon thrusted forward, burying his massive cock into your pussy in one stroke from how slick and gaping you were from taking multiple dicks there and jungkook was on the way to doing to the same training for your asshole too. it felt so overwhelmingly good yet so much, both their cock's met each other through the wall separating your holes, creating a pressure that made your eyes roll back so hard that there was only white visible, your legs kicking on the edge of the bed. namjoon's cock hit that perfect spot inside you while jungkook created a deeper fullness. it felt weird to have something inside your ass but it was forbiddenly good and you wanted more of it, your eyes went unseeing when he went all the way inside, pushing and gushing so much. the lube made everything slick and slippery so jungkook slided in and out with ease. they alternated, one pulling out while the other pushed in, thrusts that rocked your entire body upwards as you held onto the headboard desperately.

“hah… hahgh o-oh.”

namjoon growls, his hand fisting in your hair so your head shifts slightly and the others can see your blissed out face. jungkook's hips snapped harder, his balls slapping against your ass as he buried himself to the hilt. you couldn't stop making wanton noises, your stomach coiling from the dual penetration and it seemed to edge you so fast.

“i'm… i'm gonna oh—”

you wailed as you heard the slapping noises of skin meeting skin and the way namjoon and jungkook fucked you. the others around you were jerking their cocks faster so fascinated yet feeling so animal at the scene before the and they were so close to losing all self control.

you came hard around namjoon's cock, your pussy clenching violently around his shaft while your ass fluttered on jungkook's cock. your limbs shook uncontrollably against the ties as your forehead rested on the headboard as you tried to breathe wildly. namjoon followed right after, his thrusts growing erratic as he buried himself deep and came flooding your pussy with cum.

“fucking shitt.”

he lets out a string of curses, grinding deeper against you to push his release deeper while jungkook continues fucking your ass through the orgasm, drawing it out until you are oversensitive, his cock inside your ass makes you forget about the overstimulation of your pussy momentarily. the feeling of namjoon's cum leaking around his cock as he stayed inside you combined with jungkook's pace left your mind fully blank, you couldn't even produce proper words other than helpless moans. the aftershocks making your holes flutter around their cocks as they held you there, not pulling out yet

namjoon and jungkook slowly pulled out of you after a while, there seemed to be a certain shift in the air, like the wait had finally snapped. after seeing your flexibility and impressive energy, capable of being able to take two cocks at a time. they surrounded you on the bed, closing in like you had nowhere to escape.

namjoon and jungkook and taehyung were still beside you, their eyes all holding obsession and need as their eyes traced your flushed trembling form and the way that there was a large wet spot on the sheets. your wrists were freed from the tie by yoongi so you won't be restricted and they could put you in any position they want.

“color?” hoseok asks you with genuine concern.

“if it's too much, tell us.” taehyung adds.

his hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen lip. their hands hovering, cocks leaking against your thigh but waiting for your consent before proceeding, knowing you already took a lot. jimin leaned in to press a kiss against your temple.

“you're shaking so much but we won't push you unless you're okay.” hoseok croons while you gasp for breath, your heart pounding and slowing down as minutes pass by.

“green...”

that's the only word you managed to get out as you looked at them with glassy eyes and they all groaned together.

“that's our girl for sure.”

jungkook grumbles and the others made noises of agreement at how perfect you are and how your body opened up and gave itself to them so easily even after everything, you wanted to take more. they knew that you were the one for them.

they closed in fully and before you knew it, hands and mouths were on you all at once and everywhere. kisses went down your neck, shoulders, breasts and stomach, open mouthed kisses. teeth grazed your collarbones while tongues soothed the sting, fingers tangling in your hair and stroking your sides and ass. they teased every sensitive spot on your body. it was sensory overload as the heat of their bodies pressed close.

“haa…”

jimin was the first to claim your pussy, sliding his cock through your slit with a groan. he pushed in slowly at first, feeling your walls trying to pull him in like a magnet from earlier orgasms. namjoon positioned himself behind you, his cock pressing against your asshole. he didn't need to use more lube because there were already residuals of it from earlier and you were so full of fluids.

“gahh!”

you made a throaty noise, hands fisting the bedsheets as he worked his way inside your ass as well. jimin's thrusts rubbed against that spot inside you perfectly while namjoon's cock filled your ass. their hips snapping in sync, both their heavy cocks slapping against you, making pating noises while you sobbed out almost pornographic noises, not even recognizing the noises you made yourself. at the same time jungkook moved closer to your head, his hand wrapped around your cock, guiding your mouth open with the tip of it.

“let me feel that throat baby.” he growls, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he pushes deeper.

you moaned loudly as he immediately hit the back of your throat, tears welling in your eyes anew while jimin and namjoon continued fucking. taehyung on the other hand, slides his heavy cock between your breasts, squeezing them together around his length with a groan which were bouncing automatically from thrusts causing friction on his length.

“these are so soft.” he grunts. he loved the way they felt around his cock, his precum causing his dick to glide easily, his thumbs flicking your nipples with every moment. jin and hoseok claim your hands next, wrapping your fingers around their throbbing cocks. your palms were guided up and down their lengths with their larger hands covering yours, setting a firm pace.

“stroke me good baby.” hoseok says, their hips bucking into your grip, abs flexing.

“gahhsh hahh mmphh.”

you make mindless muffled sobbing noises on jungkook's cock while being stimulated in every way possible. they continued without pause, jimin fucking your pussy with deep strokes while namjoon pounded your ass. jungkook used your mouth like a toy, like it was just a warm wet sleeve for him to use as he alternated between deep throats and quicker thrusts. taehyung's cock slid messily between your breasts, leaving them glistening and he let out grunts. jin's and hoseok's cocks were twitching in your grip.

yoongi was the only one left to join and he was standing close to the bed, watching everything and the chaos with feral eyes, tracking every noise of yours and the slap of skin as the other men claimed you. his hand paused on his cock, his chest rising and falling as he saw you being used so thoroughly. jimin was buried deep inside your pussy already but yoongi could see the way your walls clenched and fluttered, begging for more. the stretch was not yet complete and that alone made his cock twitch. you were his adorable little slut and stretched so wide and still hungry for more. the other men also noticed that yoongi didn't join as they egged him on, turning to look at him.

“yoongi's been holding back.”

hoseok chuckled, guiding your hand along his cock. his other hand kept you steady on jungkook so your mouth kept working on him.

“come on yoongi, join us.”

jimin groaned in agreement, his hips never slowing as he looked at yoongi with a flushed smile, knowing exactly what he wants. they've known each other well enough to understand what the other wants without words and right now yoongi holding back means he wants something different, the way his eyes were fixated on your gaping pussy told him exactly that.

“she's so fucking tight even now… but we can make her take us both. get over here and stretch our girl.”

yoongi finally pushed off the bed, his cock bobbing heavily as he approached, making the men chuckle between groans while you struggled to keep up with their words or even understand what they're saying. he added more lube over his length, adding even more to where jimin was already connected to you. the head of his cock pressed against your already stuffed entrance, teasing over the stretched rim where jimin was inside.

“go for it.” jimin smirks at him and yoongi hums.

“you want this baby? want both our cocks splitting this pussy wide open?” yoongi murmurs, his free hand stroking your bulging tummy gently, feeling the outline of jimin inside you. all you could respond with was a muffled sob around jungkook's cock as tears and snot left you, your mind melting.

“that's a yes.” jungkook replies to yoongi with a grin, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

your vision blurs when yoongi finally pushed in alongside jimin causing such a burning stretch like you were going to tear open, forcing two massive cocks all the way in together. inch by inch, yoongi's length slid home, the lube easing the way but not diminishing the intense fullness as your tummy visibly bulges outward even more prominently at the dual intrusion.

“hnnngh... mm...” you sputtered with wide eyes around jungkook's cock.

the men groaned, their hands roaming your body, all focused on watching the way you took three cocks, two cocks inside your pussy and namjoon still pounding your ass. your belly bulged with each thrust until you could feel every bit of the detail and veins of their cock. you've never felt so full and complete in your life. the masochist in you barely registered the pain and only focused on the way you were being claimed so thoroughly. yoongi and jimin found a rhythm together, their cocks rubbing against each other, it sent white hot sparks exploring through their nerves. your pussy was overfilled and cum frothing at your entrance with every plunge, dripping down to where namjoon was hammering your ass in perfect counterpoint. jungkook pulls out from your mouth to let you breathe understanding your need for it.

“ah-ah-ah-ah—fuck!”

they treated you like you were a breeding toy, namjoon's hand pressing down on your lower back to arch you further, deepening the triple penetration.

“we're gonna ruin this cunt for anyone else. gonna pump you so full of cum you'll be leaking for days.” jungkook snarls, spitting inside your mouth as you wail, his hand stroking your tear streaked face as he jerks off right on your cheek.

“our cumdump..”

yoongi groans, giving you a few more pounds. you were spiraling higher and higher, murmuring and screaming nonsense, your brain's functions lost, while they were hitting spots inside you you didn't even know existed, rearranging and jostling your insides. just then namjoon leaned down to pinch your clit hard between his thumbs. you fully lost your mind.

“AHHHHHHHH!”

you let out such a loud scream that you were sure others outside the penthouse could hear despite it being soundproof as you gagged repeatedly on jungkook's cock, your breasts beingsqueezed hard by taehyung. you orgasmed hard, pussy cleaning down like a vice, milking yoongi's and jimin's cocks as so much liquid squirted out of you, soaking everyone. your entire lower body was soaked and their thighs were mixing with saliva and precum, your throat constricting around jungkook's. your vision blackened and you fell forward, almost like you lost your senses. yoongi snarled through gritted teeth, his hips rocking faster.

thrust. thrust. thrust.

that was what all of them were doing, jungkook inside your mouth, hoseok and jin fucking your fists, taehyung using your breasts while namjoon fucked your ass and jimin and yoongi fucking your pussy, all their faces contorted, not being able to stop moaning, pushing you to hypersensitivity and every inch of your body felt like it was burning and on fire. they didn't stop continuing to fuck you until they all started cumming, one by one they came all over your body and face and inside all your holes.

all you could smell was sex, sweat, raw masculinity and cigarettes, it all mixed together into something extremely lewd. so much liquid sloshing in your belly, becoming inflated as namjoon, yoongi and jimin dumped it inside you. you all felt less human and more animal like, sex beasts where nothing was enough and the night still wasn't over.

the night went on like that and the hours felt like an endless haze of pleasure as the seven of them continued to use you like their personal fucktoy, rotating through every single one of your holes until no part of you was untouched. groans, moans, cries and the slap of skin against skin were all that could be heard.

creampies after creampies.

“who do you think made her cum the hardest huh? i bet it was me hitting her spot just right.” jungkook chuckled deeply, gripping your ass.

“nahh kook, it was me definitely.” yoongi interrupts.

“y/n baby, tell them, whose dick wrecked you the most?”

but you could barely form words, your mind foggy and from overstimulation so they gave you another round just to prove among themselves actually who was capable of making you cum the hardest as if they all didn't successfully do so several times already. they passed you around with ease, each man claiming a turn while others watched or strokes themselves and joined in to heighten the torment. they also competed about who could make you scream or cry the loudest as they shifted you into several different positions. you were shocked at your body for being so flexible. you didn't even remember your own name at this point as the rotation continued relentlessly.

hours went on with edging and making you cum, sometimes with mating press position or putting both your legs over their shoulders and sometimes they gave it to you in the spoon position so they could take their time with you passionately while they talked among themselves, always discussing who gets to have you next or in which position to put you in.

“y/n are you still with us or did we fuck you dumb already?”

you were far from responding to them, only letting out garbled noises, your body taking them all even now, you felt like you were in heaven and hell together from the pleasure and from the sensitivity. the gangbang went on until you felt like your pussy and ass overflowed with their cum that was constantly pushed back in by insistent fingers and cocks. the sheets were fully ruined, drenched in sweat, saliva and semen, your body was soaked from head to toe too as they made sure not a drop of their cum went to taste. even if they argued among themselves about who made you cum the hardest but at this point your body reacted to even the little brush of fingers because of how hyper used you felt as you babbled incoherently still pushing back against several cocks.

you were also shocked at how much raw energy they had that even after so many orgasms and such exerted force they could still go on, their cocks seeming to get hard within minutes of release but soon you felt them slowly growing exhausted as well after hours of claiming you.

you saw the first hints of morning light through the curtains from half closed eyes, you all didn't even realize that the night had turned to nearly dawn. you felt half conscious yourself, not a single bit of energy left in you, not being able to lift your head as your lower body still convulsed. the bed was a wreck, the sheets half twisted and all wet, some pillows on the floor, pools of cum drying on your body and theirs as well. one pillow was half torn, you'd probably grabbed too hard between your hands but didn't even remember properly. the headboard also had nail scratches and marks from grips.

you lay in the center of it all, voice almost gone from screams and moans, feeling blissfully blank and dreamy, where thoughts dissolved before they could form. your body ached deliciously, bite marks everywhere, handprints reddened your hips and ass, your pussy and ass swollen, still trickling bits of their white seed. they all panted around you, all their cocks softened now, no longer having the power to get hard again as you felt a few sets of arms wrap around your waist, holding you close without crushing you with their weight.

“fuck… baby, are you okay?” jungkook murmurs.

he pressed soothing kisses against your shoulder and you just whimpered, burying your face in taehyung's chest, your body shifting a littl and that made you let out a quiet little cry because it put pressure on your lower body.

“shhh, don't move too much.” taehyung whispers as he places a hand behind your head.

“we've got you.”

“water first, someone get the bottle.”

namjoon says urgently, knowing how thirsty you'd be after everything. jin stands up on shaky legs and goes to grab another bottle of cold water for you, while hands of theirs that gripped and spanked now rubbed slowly over your sore muscles, slightly massaging.

“you did so well baby.”

taehyung nuzzled into your side while yoongi pressed slow apologetic kisses on your stomach and you mewled, melting in the sheets. they made you drink water, making sure you finished the entire bottle to quench your thirst and also for whatever energy you lost. they constantly asked questions about if you were okay, if any specific body part of yours hurt and that they were sorry even if they had no reason to. they constantly made sure that you were comfortable and safe but you had no energy to reply to them to tell them that you enjoyed everything and to not apologize. so you expressed your gratitude through actions, leaning onto them and clutching them as they all enveloped you into cuddles, solid bodies radiating safety until you were cocooned.

your head pillowed on jin's chest, legs tangled with jungkook's and hoseok's, taehyung's arm draped over your waist, jimin's fingers laced with yours, namjoon's hand stroking your hair while yoongi traced up and down your back. they didn’t talk for several minutes, letting you recover, knowing you weren't in the state to reply to them until they felt your breathing regulate more.

“are there any cramps? do you feel dizzy?” jin asks softly and you shake your head weakly.

“good… safe.” you managed to croak out and they all smiled, letting out relieved noises and kissing against each mark and bruise they left on you.

“you worked so hard angel… we're so proud of you.”

they also had scratches and bite marks on their bodies from where you'd grabbed onto them. some nail marks also caused blood to bead a little but all their focus was on you, not caring about themselves. after the blissful recovery they decided it was time for a shower. you also felt a little uncomfortable and sticky everywhere from so many fluids so they carried you to the large bathroom.

during that, the staff had already been notified to clean the sheets and bring fresh food in without a single question or raised eyebrow from them. they knew better than to do that and minded their own place but even shock was evident in their faces because it was the very first time the men had ever brought a woman into their place.

in the shower they treated you like you were something precious and fragile, giving you utmost care as if you were a delicate flower meant to be handled like that. they washed you together, massaging your scalp with shampoo while your head rested on the edge of the tub, warm water making you moan in relief as they cleaned all the fluids from your hair and body.

“lift your leg for me princess.” yoongi instructed affectionately.

then he used a soft towel to clean between your folds and between your thighs slowly as you winced from the pain and soreness but he did that oh so gently, a huge contrast to how he fucked you moments ago as they helped support your legs, massaging between your toes too and it makes you giggle with a tired smile. they didn’t touch any of your sensitive spots or your nipples, noting how swollen and reddened they were, being extremely mindful and checking in with you.

“there we go… nice and clean.” namjoon held you against his chest.

they talked among themselves about what to feed you next or which ointments to apply to your marks in hushed voices so as to not jerk you while they wiped down your body with a dry towel. they wrapped a towel around you and carried you back to the freshly made bed with new sheets and laid you down carefully, making you sigh at the feeling of freshness and no more wetness even though your body ached sweetly. they insisted on feeding you a light snack too despite that you felt so sleepy, not wanting you to fall asleep on an empty stomach and in pain.

“just a few bites… such a good girl yeah?” namjoon coaxed, they were all patient as you managed a few bites. your throat a little sore too from taking so many cocks but the cold fruits helped. after that, they made you have a pain relief tablet before placing extra fluffed pillows behind you.

“we're right here.”

jimin whispered.

“sleep now, we’ve got you.”

you never felt so cared for. it made your heart flutter, your lips curving in a dreamy smile as you buried your nose in the pillow, a kitten like purr leaving you from deep within your chest and it made all the men around you melt into puddles. their bodies forming a protective circle, hands rubbing and massaging your thighs, almost rocking you to a peaceful sleep, their devotion something you'll carry with yourself even in your dreams. they watched you all quietly, you slept so deeply on your stomach, one of your hand squished beneath your cheek making your lips pucker.

“she's out cold... poor thing took everything we gave.”

yoongi said with a rare smile as jungkook pushed a strand of wet hair away from your face. it seemed as if all their heart was being carried in your little palm all alone, like they found what they'd been missing all along.

“she fits doesn’t she?” hoseok murmurs, lost in the haze of watching you too as the others nodded softly.

“she does…”

they knew that they wouldn’t let you go and that they'd keep you, it wasn’t just a contract of one night, it was more that, they didn’t wanna spoil you just for one night but forever.

nothing in the world mattered except you right here in their arms, owned by them, marked by them in every way humanly possible and there was no going back, they knew that even their souls knew that.

“we'll talk to her when she wakes up but she's not leaving, we’ll show her how serious we are.”

you meanwhile, slept unaware that your life had changed for the better and that new beginnings were yet to come with much adoration and sex, yet most importantly, eight hearts connected and meant to beat together.

➥ taglist : @kskskskskskskskss @gukdemonic @jeonette @chelseaad @koosette @mn1jungkook @mrskimjoon @dilflover008 @singularity4joon @yevataeia @kookstempo @ggukiebar @yoongix7 @gld3en @cupidsbling @bethanyyuy @jeonlarity @pinklemonsstuff @furioustrashlover @hainwhatever @wtfanu @elmarimochi9513 @httpjk7 @wintrbears @kawaikisses @polaroidrebel @littleblue-pickle @perfectlyoongi @imjustcrabby @mnimxrva @lohikook @crimsonbangtan @phehehep @goldenjjksworld @sunkissedcheekss @jmscaffeine @mintedagustd @multimxa @tina-20

© GUKCNT — all rights reserved.

[pickyour-poison]

Safety Net | Yan! Bsf Jungkook

Pairing : yan bsf jungkook x reader

Wordcount: 2.5k words

warnings : This contains explicit 18+ sexual content, dubcon/noncon elements due to drugging and intoxication, heavy dark yandere Jungkook, cheating, breeding kink, rough sex, recording without consent, sending explicit material, manipulation and implied violence. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

summary : Your loyal best friend Jungkook has always been there for you but his obsession finally wins. Guilt-ridden yet unhinged and he takes what he’s always wanted...even if it meant ruining your relationship and claiming you in the most sinful way possible. "I’m done pretending I can let you go."

author's note : if you're here expecting healthy communication...then y'all should prolly exit....but if you're here to watch fictional men make ridiculous bad decisions, welcome home...and also please remember that therapy exists and none of this should. enjoy <3

Part : one / two

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You sit across from him in the dimly lit corner of that viral restaurant he insisted on taking you to...again. The kind of place where the bill alone could cover your rent for months.

Jungkook sits comfortably across from you, dressed in a fitted black designer shirt that clings perfectly to his broad shoulders. His sleeves are folded neatly to his forearms..exposing the colourful tattoos decorating his skin..while a thick gold chain catches the warm glow of the lights every time he moves.

He's always like this...humble and ridiculously down to earth...but..only with you.

No flashy attitude or unnecessary displays of wealth like he usually puts on around his friends. It was just quiet luxury and genuine generosity...and those dark eyes that linger a little too long whenever they think you've stopped looking.

Your long-distance boyfriend had called earlier.

His voice was warm and gentle...overflowing with the kind of love people spend their whole lives searching for. He promised he'd visit soon. He loved you with everything he had and you never once questioned that love.

But here you were...laughing at something your best friend said as he reached across the table to pass you the wine glass.

His fingers brushed yours for barely a second and Goosebumps raced up his arm. You noticed it...like you always did and quietly withdrew your hand before the moment could become something else. Carefully.....like never giving him a reason to mistake your kindness for permission or let those feelings grow roots again.

You had worked too hard to rebuild this friendship. Two years ago, he'd made the mistake of confessing.

Then came the argument...the silence...and two long years where neither of you spoke. He said he needed time to reflect on his mistakes.

But when Jungkook returned, it wasn't with excuses...it was with an apology. A genuine one...or at least one convincing enough to make you believe him.

You'd been skeptical at first because losing your best friend once had hurt enough...But with time..he proved himself.

He stopped prying into your personal life like before and respected your boundaries. He stayed available whenever you truly needed him without asking for anything in return and Little by little...he became the friend you'd lost.

Or at least...the version of him you wanted to believe still existed.

"I shouldn't have another glass," you murmur..nudging the half-filled wine away.

Jungkook chuckles quietly...lifting the bottle before you can stop him. Ruby-red wine swirls into your glass.

"Come on," he says with that soft...disarming smile that had talked you into far too many things over the years. "You deserve it. I know this week's been cruel to you."

You hesitate for only a second before giving in...Because he wasn't wrong. This week had been absolute hell and You'd worked your ass off.

So..maybe you deserved one night to breathe.

_

The drive back to your apartment is filled with laughter and your best friend's absolute nonsense.

Bruno Mars' Locked Out of Heaven blasts through the speakers while the two of you scream every lyric.

It's a really good thing Jungkook's car is soundproof and heavily tinted because the people outside are spared the absolute disaster happening inside.

You snort halfway through the chorus because of his high pitched tone.

To be honest..You missed Jungkook because of this. You could be whoever you wanted around him and say the dumbest things imaginable...embarrass yourself beyond imagination and he'd never judge you for it.

Your boyfriend's messages sit unread inside your purse..the screen glowing faintly through the dark fabric...completely forgotten for the moment.

Jungkook kills the engine in the underground garage before turning to look at you.

"You good?" he asks, voice low..wearing that familiar half-smile.

You nod, offering a sleepy little grin,"A little tipsy."

Nodding he said, "come on. Let's get you upstairs. I'll make you some tea."

He gets out first...circling the car to open your door like he always does. His hand steadies your elbow as you step out...warm and careful and gone the second you're balanced.

Always the perfect gentleman with you...The elevator ride is comfortable..wrapped in familiar silence.

When you finally push open your apartment door, you kick your heels off with a long and relieved sigh,"Finally." Jungkook chuckles softly behind you, locking the door before setting your purse on the kitchen island.

"I'm changing," you mumble...already padding down the hallway.

"Take your time." He replied. A few minutes later..you return wearing an oversized T-shirt and loose pajama shorts...your hair slightly damp after splashing water on your face and towel still hangs around your shoulders.

"I think I'm done drinking tonight." Jungkook looks up from the kitchen counter, the wine bottle still resting in his hand. "Really?" he asks, eyebrows lifting. "Mhm." You nodded

" But You promised me a fun night," he says...tilting the bottle with a small...coaxing grin. "Besides...tomorrow's Sunday and One last glass won't kill you."

You hesitate, biting your lip, "...That's true, but..." A second passes before you sigh dramatically and hold your glass out anyway,"You're terrible, Gguk."

"Not guilty." He chuckled as the ruby liquid swirls into your glass.

You settle onto the couch beside him, tucking one leg beneath yourself as you scroll through the streaming apps. Jungkook watches you from the corner of his eye..the half-empty wine bottle still in his hand. His thumb brushes over the label...once...twice...like he’s weighing something.

His other hand slips into his pocket with ease. The small packet is already open...and a pinch of fine white powder falls silently into your glass..dissolving instantly into the ruby liquid with a few casual swirls of the bottle. Not a trace left behind.

His fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle for a heartbeat. You've been overwhelmed for days, he tells himself. Barely sleeping or eating. This will help you relax...Just this once. For your own good.

He sets the bottle down like nothing happened.

“Harry Potter?” he suggests, voice warm and easy...already reaching for the remote and you nodded agreeing with him. Later conversation flows easily...work drama...old college stories and that one professor you both hated with a passion.

Halfway through your glass...you're laughing so hard your stomach hurts. "You still have that picture?" you gasp. "Yes?" he replies, narrowing his eyes in fake suspicion. "You said you deleted it!" You raised your voice.

"I lied." He shrugged his shoulders.

"You asshole." Your voice grows louder with every word, making him laugh even harder. Every time you take another sip, Jungkook’s gaze lingers on the way your throat moves.

His eyes remain soft though...quietly watching the way your laughter slowly melts into sleepy contentment.

The warmth settling through your body feels heavier now...Your limbs sink deeper into the couch. "So sleepy..." you mumble, blinking slower.

"The wine finally caught up to you, I guess." He commented.

"Mhm..."

His phone vibrates on the coffee table and Jungkook glances at the screen before standing, "Give me a second." You wave him off lazily.

He steps onto the balcony...answering the call with short and distracted replies. Even then...his gaze drifts back through the glass every few moments.

When he returns a few minutes later...you've slipped lower into the couch and your glass sits forgotten on the coffee table.

One arm drapes lazily over the cushion..your eyes half-closed as you fight a losing battle against sleep. "Who was it...?" you murmur, voice soft and hazy.

"Business." He kneels in front of you..reaching for the throw blanket before draping it carefully over your legs.

"You'll get cold." A tiny, content hum leaves your lips as you curl further into it and Your breathing slows...Deepens...You don't notice the way his fingers pause for just a heartbeat while tucking the blanket around you.

Jungkook stays where he is...Watching and listening to every slow, steady breath.

Making sure you're comfortable...Just until you fall asleep...That's all...Or at least...that's what he keeps telling himself.

But your soft and sleepy sighs and the way your body melts so trustingly under the blanket slowly breaks him.

“I’m so tired of pretending, baby,” Jungkook finally sighs, voice barely above a whisper, as if scared that even breathing too loud might wake you. “The thought of you being someone else’s… it eats me alive, doll.”

His hand trembles as he strokes your hair....his mask slowly slipping and then as if he can't control himself...he slowly trails down your left arm softly....then he leans in..pressing a soft and lingering kiss near the corner of your lips hesitantly.

“Forgive me for what I’m about to do,” he murmurs, eyes glassy, “but I think I need this....I need you.”

He cups your small face in his shaking hands and leans in again...pressing hot and open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You stir faintly.

“Gguk…?” you mumble hazily...voice thick and confused..barely able to open your eyes.

“Mmh, my sweet girl,” Jungkook whispers, already unbuttoning his shirt with shaky fingers. The fabric slides off his shoulders..revealing his toned chest..the thick gold chain resting against his skin and the full expanse of his tattoos running from his shoulder down his arm and across his back.

He stands there for a few seconds...staring at your sleeping form...still contemplating whether he should stop. But you look so fragile..so breakable… and the ache in his chest is unbearable.

You manage to crack your eyes open just a little. “Wh… you… Gguk?” Your voice is so small, so trusting.

“It’s okay, doll. I’m here. You’re safe with me,” he says softly even as his hands move to his jeans. He kicks them off along with his boxers in one motion...freeing his thick and leaking cock. He wraps a hand around himself and strokes slowly...eyes fixed on you.

He swears he could cum just like this...just from looking at you. But he forces his hand away..crouches down and pushes your oversized shirt up. He drags your pajama shorts and panties down your legs...tossing them aside. You were beautiful. No one....no human...deserved even an ounce of you...not in his eyes.

He gently spreads your legs apart and groans low in his throat. “God… look at you.”

He makes himself comfortable between your thighs...still hazy with desperation..lazily pumping his cock as he leans in and kisses your cunt. He closes his eyes...savoring your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him sane..but then he goes all in.

He drags his tongue through your folds with a broken sound. You stir...hips twitching weakly at the sudden wet heat.

Jungkook eats you out like a man who had been starving for years....messy..wet and desperate. Long and filthy licks...suckling hard on your clit..tongue fucking into you while his hand works his own cock faster. The obscene sounds of him stroking himself mix with the wet noises of his mouth on you...echoing loudly in your quiet apartment.

Your hips twitch again. “Ah-Gguk… why… what are you doing…?” your voice groggy.

“Shhh, princess,” he groans against your pussy, voice dark and ragged. “Just let me have you. I’ve wanted this for so long… I’m so tired of being good for you. I can’t anymore. I’m sorry…please..forgive me.”

Your boyfriend’s name lights up your phone again..and the screen flashes brightly in the dim room.

Jungkook’s head snaps up. A low and angry groan rumbles from his chest...almost a growl, “Fucking persistent, isn’t he?” he snaps under his breath...eyes wild. He silences the call with one aggressive swipe and then grabs his phone..props it up on the coffee table and hits record. The red light blinks on...capturing everything.

By now he looks completely gone...eyes dark and unhinged...pupils blown wide and expression of someone far beyond redemption. No conscience left it was just raw and that sick need.

He climbs over you..completely naked..tattoos glistening with a light sheen of sweat. His gold chain swings as he lines up his thick cock and pushes in raw...one deep and brutal thrust that stretches you open. You cry out softly...tears slipping from the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and pressure.

“Gg-gguk…” you sob...voice slurred and broken..deep in intoxication. You don’t understand what’s happening. It just feels so good. So full. “pleas-..more..…”

“That’s my good girl,” Jungkook breathes..voice soft and tender even as he starts fucking you hard and dirty. His hips snap against you with frustration he’s held back for years. “You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight and so perfect for me.”

He pounds into you relentlessly..the couch creaking loudly beneath you. Every thrust is deep and raw...his balls slapping against you. “I’m done waiting, princess...Done pretending I can let you go....It’s time you settle with me....Time you become mine completely.”

Tears keep falling as pleasure crashes through your hazy mind. You beg incoherently, “Gguk… don’t ruin us…please…”

“I won’t, my sweet girl,” he coos softly, voice tender even as he starts fucking you even harder...hips snapping brutally. “I’m sorry, baby… I’m so sorry.” He pounds into you raw and filthy...taking out years of frustration while whispering sweet words. “You’re taking me so well. Look at you crying for my cock… so beautiful.”

His expression is terrifying....lost and obsessive..almost manic but his voice stays gentle. “You feel incredible, doll. So warm and wet for me. This pussy was made for me.”

You whimper and cry, begging brokenly, “Don’t stop, Gguk… please…”

He keeps going...deep and relentless, " Should breed you fuck-..so you’ll never leave.”

With a guttural...broken groan he buries himself to the hilt and cums hard...thick and hot ropes flooding deep inside you. He keeps thrusting through it...pushing his load as deep as possible.

He doesn’t pull out right away...still breathing raggedly and covered in sweat...he grabs the phone closer and records himself slowly pulling out. His cum leaks from your pussy but he pushes two fingers inside you...scooping it deeper...fucking it back in with lazy thrusts.

“Stay inside her,” he mutters darkly to the camera...voice low and possessive.

A few seconds later..he trims the video....keeping the worst parts ( you crying and begging “Don’t stop, Gguk… more…” while he’s buried inside you ) and sends it to your boyfriend with no caption.

Then he dials another number still breathing hard. “Yeah… I’m done,” he says calmly into the phone...eyes never leaving your form. “Take care of it.”

He ends the call and tosses the phone aside and looks down at you with a soft...almost peaceful smile. The madness in his eyes slowly fades into something gentler as he caresses your feet...lifting one to his lips and kissing it tenderly.

“You’re finally mine...my sweet girl,” he whispers...voice full of dark promise. “I’ll take care of you forever baby...no one else will ever have you again. I promise it.”

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[thisismekate]

jeon jungkook fic recs (ii)

All series contain smut and strictly 18+

part 1, part 2

Series

The love prognosis by awrkive (91k, completed) For as long as you can remember, you've always been a hopeless romantic. the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

Rattled by gukslut (69k, completed)

TEMPORARY FRAGMENTS by inthelow (+200k, completed) When you meet Jungkook— an older man who is amazing in bed, you thought it would be a simple arrangement of casual sex. Except things start getting serious and before you know he’s asking you on dates and introducing you to his daughter… Of course, he doesn’t know that you’re bad with kids and never wanted one of your own— well, at least it was just something temporary… right?.

GET HIM BACK! by inthelow (Series, completed) After a hard breakup with who, you thought, would be the one, the only thing in your mind was a sad playlist of Taylor Swift songs and red wine. But, what happens when your neighbour— who is done of hearing you cry at 2 am every day — puts the idea in your head of getting your ex back? but with a good and sweet revenge… of course everything will be easier if you didn’t have any feelings for your ex and if your neighbour wasn’t a superstar idol who doesn’t have a problem at pretending to be your boyfriend to piss off that ex— who also happens to be his ex best friend— What a mess, right?

When Love Arrives by DelusionTillIDie (180k, completed) (ao3) You're quite literally stepping on toes after being invited to the Grammys as part of Halsey's PR team.

Sugar Fairy by foxymoxy (229k, completed) (ao3) Bunny Hybrid Jungkook is at that age… he needs a mate, and it's making life miserable for everyone in the family. The obvious solution is to bring home a girl. The obvious problem is that while it's love at first site for Pippa when he walks into the adoption tent, Jungkook is far more into the sexy cat to her right. Will there ever be peace in the family again?

In Motion by dailydoseofdia (176k, completed) (ao3) The rule is simple - you can look but you can’t touch. You’ve been attending the event for a few times but it was only when a certain boy arrives at one occasion did you feel the fire of lust burning inside

Little Bean by foxymoxy (541k, completed) (ao3) Nothing has been normal for Jungkook since he moved to Seoul to become a trainee as a boy, and yet noticing a beautiful girl in a coffee shop is the most normal thing a young man can do. Asking her out, super normal. Falling in love, totally normal. Everything about Sasha makes him feel normal and important, and yet nothing can ever be truly normal when your relationship has to be secret.

Flux by foxymoxy (712k, completed) (ao3) Tour has ended but life only moves faster as Jungkook prepares for another album and Sasha gets exciting new career opportunities she just can’t say no to. What seems so pure and strong on summer vacation struggles under the onslaught of external pressures, internal demons, and missed connections. How can they ever find stability together when both their lives are so full of churn? And if the currents do tear them apart, how will they find their way back to each other?

My Matryoshka by foxymoxy (226k, ongoing) (ao3) Jungkook and Sasha are grateful for the newfound stability of their relationship as careers seize the spotlight. Sasha has a thesis to focus on in a hostile academia environment. Jungkook is eager to share his maturing identity with the fans, the world, and his hyungs. But with so much looming change, it’s easy to feel like the golden days have already passed. Can they be enough for each other through it all? And really, who could have predicted what one little full sleeve tattoo would cause?

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

jeon jungkook fanfics that should be turned into a movie or a book! 🎬 (part 1, part 2).

Thank you authors for your infinite imagination and creativity! My days are better because of you <3

Get him back by @inthelow (f!producer/writer reader x idol!jungkook) ongoing

Still don’t know my name by @dollfaceksj (jungkook x reader) completed

Kinktober D14- thigh job/ humping by @redcherrykook (jungkook x reader) completed

Play pretend by @frmisnow (best friend!jk x reader) •fake dating, friends with benefits, friends to lovers completed• part 1 part 2 part 3 completed

If i told you by @gukyi (jungkook x reader) •friends to lovers!au, college!au/ fluff, comedy, angst completed

Boy with luv by @hannieehaee (barista!reader, sub-ish!jk) completed

Can i keep you? by @mikrokcsmos (ghostjk! x reader) completed

Habits (Stay High) by @girlygguk (student plug!jk x rich girl!reader) ongoing

Teach me How to love by @kookooluvr (professor!jungkook, professor!reader) • fwb!au, co-workers!au • ongoing

Bed Chem by @muniimyg (frenemie! jk x reader) • uni au, frenemies • completed

Between the ride and the roses by @focusonkayjay (biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader) • enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn • ongoing

Calling It Now by @newmittens (jungkook x reader) • Friends to Lovers; Grad School AU • completed

Bad things by @girlygguk (jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader) • f2l, fwb au, university au • ongoing

One night stand by @theagstd (ceo!jk x graphic designer! reader) • enemies to lovers, CEO au, pregnancy trope, slowburn • ongoing

First Sightings by @kookiestiddies (jungkook x reader) • Enemies With Potential • ongoing

Total loser by @frmisnow (rockstarjk! x reader) completed

NEED TO KNOW by @hannieehaee (virgin!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, loser!jk, sub!jk x reader) • college au • completed

Unspoken by @armpirate ( Boyfriend's friend!jk, Soldier!jk x reader) completed

[gworlmoss]

Mutual Help , The 10 series , The mammoth that is The Sadness of Things ... Jungkook is really the golden muse 🫂🤺🙈

[parkethereal]

reading this during insomnia nights heheheh

[jkwrites-m]

The Wrong Sister

Pairing: prince!Jungkook x princess!female reader

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

Word Count: 14.8k

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

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

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

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

LINK TO REQUEST ♡ MASTERLIST ♡ a03

═══════

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

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

But the mirror lies.

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

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

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

You’re getting married today.

To a man you’ve barely spoken to.

A man who’s ten years older.

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

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

But inside?

You’re unraveling.

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

She freezes. “Apologies, Your Highness…”

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

“Leave,” you murmur.

They hesitate.

“I said leave.”

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

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

A knock at the door makes your spine go rigid.

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

The door creaks open. And there she is.

Jisoo.

Your older sister. Your kingdom’s golden girl.

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

And she looks like someone’s first choice.

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

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

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

“I thought you’d want to be alone.”

“I didn’t,” you admit. “Not today.”

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

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

The words spill out like poison.

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

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

“I never encouraged it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I didn’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m just better at pretending.”

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

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

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

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

It’s time.

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

Because you are walking down the aisle

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

The chapel smells like ancient roses and old prayers.

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

But you only look forward.

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

He doesn’t smile.

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

The music swells. The world fades.

You reach him.

He doesn’t offer his hand.

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

Until it’s time for the vows.

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

They’re on her.

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

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

Jisoo.

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

But you feel it. All of it.

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

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

You say the words.

You pledge your body, your name, your crown.

You do not cry.

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

Because he feels nothing.

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

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

The crowd erupts into applause.

You smile.

You have to.

He offers you his arm.

You take it.

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

You smile.

You have to.

And though you can feel him beside you… 

he says nothing.

═══════

The ballroom gleams with gold and artifice.

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

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

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

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

You lift your eyes to his.

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

Your breath catches.

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t bring her into this.”

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

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

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

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

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

But you know better.

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

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

He doesn’t answer.

His silence slices deeper than any truth could.

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

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

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

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

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

But then the music carries on.

So you do too.

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

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

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

═══════

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

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

The doors are already open.

He’s already inside.

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

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

The doors shut behind you with a hollow thud.

You wait.

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

Instead, you get nothing.

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

But he still won’t look at you.

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

He hums in acknowledgment. Doesn’t turn.

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

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

That’s all.

The words hang heavy in the air.

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

“I don’t owe them a performance.”

“And me?” you ask.

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

“You don’t want this,” he says.

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

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

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

His jaw ticks.

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

“I told you I wouldn’t lie to you.”

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

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

You shake your head. “It’s cruelty.”

Neither of you speak for a long moment.

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

His face flickers. Just briefly.

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

But it fades too quickly to hold onto.

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

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

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

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

The doors close.

You are alone.

Again.

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

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

═══════

The palace is dead quiet after midnight.

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

Jungkook came back hours ago.

He didn’t speak when he entered.

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

He just turned his back to you.

And that was that.

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

Sleep never came.

The silence around you was too loud.

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

You almost didn’t hear it.

A whisper. Barely there.

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

Then again- soft. Muffled. Threaded with sleep.

“…Jisoo…”

Your heart stops.

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

“…Jisoo…”

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

And you?

You’re wide awake.

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

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

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

But it was her name. Not yours.

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

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

You stare at him for a long time.

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

Numb. Resolved.

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

He may have married you.

But he dreams of her.

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

He doesn’t know you at all.

═══════

The first week of marriage does not belong to you.

It belongs to the court.

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

They don’t call you by name anymore.

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

A title. Not a person.

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

He almost never offers it.

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

So are you.

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

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

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

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

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

Be there.

But never be.

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

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

You don’t either.

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

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

A crown without a voice.

═══════

It happens because it has to.

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

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

“We need to talk,” you say.

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

Your brow furrows. “Then what is it?”

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

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

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

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

“Stand up,” he says.

The command leaves no room for hesitation. You rise.

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

“You’re trying too hard,” he murmurs.

“At least I’m trying,” you bite back.

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

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

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

You swallow. “Then what does?”

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

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

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

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

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

The words burn hotter than his hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he’s gone.

The door shuts behind him.

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

═══════

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

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

At least, that’s what they expect.

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

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

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

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

Every head in the room turns.

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

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

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

Murmurs ripple through the chamber.

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

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

A pause. His jaw tightens.

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

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

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

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

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

The room goes still.

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

More murmurs. Agreement.

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

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

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

But you’ve already won.

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

You glance down at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The air changes instantly.

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

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

You arch a brow. “Speak?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know I am.”

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

“You enjoy provoking me,” he says quietly.

“Only when you deserve it.”

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t wait for him to follow.

═══════

5 years earlier (jungkook’s pov): 

The gala had been suffocating.

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

Jungkook slipped through a side door.

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

That’s when he saw her.

Jisoo.

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

She turned when she heard him.

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

“I needed air,” he admitted.

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

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

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

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

“I suppose he’s right,” he said.

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

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

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

She dipped her head. “I should go.”

And just like that, she was gone.

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

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

Years later, he still told himself she was different.

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

═══════

Two months change nothing… and everything.

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

The winter gala is your first appearance together since then.

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

You’ve chosen your gown carefully.

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

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

You tell yourself it’s for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you see her.

Jisoo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

═══════

The ride back to the palace is silent.

Not the comfortable kind.

The kind that crackles with things unsaid.

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

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

The door shuts hard behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still just duty?” you taunt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re exhausting,” he says finally.

“You’re obsessed,” you reply.

And you both know you’re right.

═══════

Two weeks have passed since that night.

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

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

The world sees perfection. You see the cracks.

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

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

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

The world tilts.

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

And then- 

Strong hands catch you before you collapse completely.

The scent of warm spice and leather floods your senses.

“Y/N.” His voice is low, urgent.

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

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

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

“Put me down,” you protest.

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

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

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

“It’s just a twist-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook-”

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

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

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

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

Then the mask is back, and he’s gone.

═══════

The physician leaves just before noon.

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

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

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

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

“Come in,” you call.

Jungkook steps inside.

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t have to-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses at the door.

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

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

Then the door shuts behind him.

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

═══════

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

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

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

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

They exchange looks but say nothing.

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

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

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

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

His jaw flexes. “Not without me.”

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

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

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

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

It’s not a request.

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

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

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

It’s infuriating how natural it feels.

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

“See?” you say. “Perfectly capable.”

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

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

For a moment, it almost feels like truce.

Almost.

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

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

═══════

The royal conservatory smells faintly of jasmine and politics.

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

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

Until Lord Jimin speaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin blinks, caught off guard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t pull away.

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

Not just beside you. With you.

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

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

“Leave us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sounds like an order. It feels like care.

═══════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s office.

You hesitate, but curiosity wins.

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

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

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

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

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

The first word you see is her. 

Jisoo.

Your stomach twists.

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

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

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

═══════

My dearest Jisoo,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As though I should be grateful.

I am not.

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

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

But she is not you.

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

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

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

I will always be yours.

- Jungkook

═══════

You don’t remember standing.

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

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

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

“Leave,” you say, your voice tight.

They freeze. “Your Highness-”

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

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

The silence is crushing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t reply.

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” he asks again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches.

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

It feels like the floor drops out from under you.

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t just-”

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

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

You don’t look back.

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

═══════

jungkook’s pov: 

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

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

Six months.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lie tastes bitter.

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

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

He has to see her.

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

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

He rides hard.

He’s going to bring her home.

═══════

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

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

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

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

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

“Is she here?”

Your blood runs cold.

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

You freeze, every muscle locking in place.

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

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

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

“Y/N-”

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

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

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

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

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

You fold your arms, holding your ground.

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

You scoff. “Falling for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will.”

═══════

jungkook’s pov:

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

An envelope. Old. Unsealed.

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

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

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

The ministers glance at one another.

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

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

Murmurs ripple through the chamber.

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

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

The last of the letter collapses into ash.

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

═══════

The day is uneventful until the envoy arrives.

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

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

Your father watches you break the seal.

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

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

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

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

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next day, you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re not enough,” Jungkook replies.

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

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

The words catch you off guard.

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

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

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

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

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

“How?” you ask, wary but curious.

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

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

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

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

═══════

The council chamber feels different this morning.

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

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

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

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

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

All eyes shift to you.

One minister hesitates. “But, Your Highness-”

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

You allow yourself a small smile, meeting his eyes.

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

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

A queen in the room.

═══════

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

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

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

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

His gaze sharpens. “Anything.”

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

The room stills.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t look away when he speaks.

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

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

Your breath catches, but you don’t interrupt.

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

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

You swallow hard, your heart pounding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

═══════

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

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

Today is the day it becomes official.

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

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

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

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

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

Long live the Queen!”

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

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

You glance at him, your heart steady and certain.

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

═══════

LINK TO REQUEST ♡ MASTERLIST ♡ a03

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

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

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Posted: 08/15/2025

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