After pregnancy, insecurities begin to take over, and your husband reminds you just how deeply he loves you.
Pairing - Husband! Jungkook x Wife! Reader
Warnings - insecurities, smut, mentions of body fat, licking, eating out, fucking, 18+.
ONESHOT.
The room was a vibrant chaos of plush toys and soft giggles. Jungkook was sprawled across the bed, completely immersed in a world of play with his five-month-old son.
"Hey! Jae! Look at this!" he chirped, his voice brimming with affection. He reached out to tickle the infant’s tummy, rewarded instantly by a toothless grin and wide, doe-like eyes that mirrored his own.
You stepped into the room, the scent of soap lingering around you. Your hair was still damp, and you draped a towel over your shoulders as you took in the heartwarming scene.
"Kook, could you grab some water for me, please?" you asked softly. "It’s nearly time for his feeding."
Jungkook gave a quick, dutiful nod and headed toward the kitchen. Gently, you scooped Jae into your arms and settled onto the edge of the bed. A wave of quiet wonder washed over you as he blinked up at you ---your son, the tiny life you had carried and brought into the world.
A moment later, Jungkook returned, his face splitting into a broad grin at the sight of his two favorite people. "Here you go," he said, handing you the water bottle. He slid onto the mattress beside you, watching with quiet reverence as you began to breastfeed.
He seemed perpetually in awe of how small and delicate the baby was, his gaze softening with every tiny movement Jae made.
You let out a sharp, rhythmic sigh when the baby’s latch grew a bit too enthusiastic.
"Is he being a little too rough?" Jungkook asked, his brow furrowing with concern.
You nodded tiredly and carefully shifted Jae to the other side. Seeing the slight strain in your expression, Jungkook leaned in to press a tender kiss to your cheek, his hand reaching up to affectionately ruffle your damp hair. "You two are my entire world," he whispered against your skin.
You leaned into his touch, smiling. "And you are the best husband and father we could have asked for."
"And you," he countered, kissing your cheek once more, "are the perfect wife and mother."
As the house fell into a deep, nocturnal stillness, the two of you remained huddled together. The conversation drifted back to the whirlwind of the past year—the erratic mood swings, the midnight cravings, and the moments you had sulked over the smallest things. Laughter punctuated the quiet night as you revisited those memories, the exhaustion of parenthood momentarily eclipsed by the simple joy of being a family.
The following day, Jungkook returned from work earlier than usual, the savory aroma of a home-cooked meal soon wafting from the kitchen. From the living room, you rocked a fussy Jae in your arms, watching Jungkook’s fluid movements through the open doorway.
He moved with a practiced grace, a skill he had perfected during your pregnancy when he took over the household chores so you could rest. Seeing him there, so attentive and diligent, warmed your heart. Once Jae finally succumbed to sleep, you laid him down and slipped into the kitchen to offer a hand.
Later that evening, the two of you settled onto the sofa, the soft glow of a romantic film flickering against the walls—a perfect wrap-up to a quiet Saturday.
"It’s been way too long since we just sat down and watched a movie together," Jungkook remarked between bites of dinner.
"I know," you admitted, a small pout forming on your lips. "I’ve really missed this."
He grinned, pulling you closer. Once the plates were cleared, you melted into his side, resting your head against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat while his arm draped securely around your waist.
The intimacy felt restorative, like a balm for the exhaustion of new parenthood. It mirrored those golden days of college when, after a grueling week of exams, he would whisk you away to his place to spend the entire night lost in a marathon of films.
The atmosphere shifted abruptly when the movie took a turn. A heated, passionate exchange between the leads filled the screen, the air in the room suddenly thickening with a different kind of energy.
You shifted slightly, the sudden friction of your clothes against his feeling amplified. Jungkook’s fingers began a slow, rhythmic caress against your waist.
Jae was sound asleep. The house was silent.
The tension rippled through you, your throat tightening as you noticed his breathing grow shallow and heavy in tandem with the steamy scene on the screen.
Feeling a sudden rush of self-consciousness, you cleared your throat and stood up, gathering the empty plates as an excuse to retreat to the kitchen. Jungkook’s gaze followed you, heavy and lingering.
He wanted you. It had been seven long months since you had last been intimate. Throughout the final months of pregnancy and the two months following delivery, he had been the ultimate gentleman, never once pressuring you. He had insisted on waiting until you felt fully healed and ready.
Then, as Jae grew, the nights had become a blur of restless cries and exhaustion, leaving no room for anything beyond sleep.
But tonight, the silence was an invitation.
Jungkook followed you, carrying an empty water bottle and setting it on the counter with a soft thud. You kept your back to him, fiddling with the bowls in the sink to avoid his eyes.
Then, you felt it—the warmth of his chest against your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.
BYour heart thudded violently against your ribs. He gently turned you around in the narrow space, his eyes dark with a hunger he had kept at bay for months. When he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss was desperate and searing.
For a moment, you lost yourself in him, your hands finding the nape of his neck. But as the heat intensified and the reality of his desire pressed against you, panic flickered in your chest. You pulled away, breathless and trembling.
Jungkook panted, his pulse visible in his neck. The kiss had ignited a fire that was becoming difficult to contain.
"Kook... Jae... he’ll be awake soon for his feeding. I need to go check on him," you stammered, stepping back and busying yourself with the faucet.
The rejection hit him like a physical weight. He let out a long, shaky sigh, running a hand through his hair as he tried to steady his breathing. A flash of guilt crossed his mind—were you still in pain? Had he pushed too hard? Without a word, he retreated to the bedroom, the heavy silence of the house returning once more.
After checking up on your little son, you slipped into the bedroom. The air was heavy with the unspoken tension from the kitchen. Jungkook was propped up against the headboard, his gaze fixed on his phone, though he didn't seem to be reading anything.
As you slid beneath the covers, the mattress dipped under your weight, and the silence felt deafening.
"I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice low and thick with regret.
You turned to look at him, the guilt in his eyes mirroring your own. "I’m the one who should be sorry," you whispered, your heart aching. "I shouldn't have pushed you away. I know it’s been a long time, and I..."
"No," he interrupted gently, finally meeting your eyes. "I just thought maybe you were still in pain. I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable."
"It’s not that," you replied, moving closer until your shoulder brushed his. "I’m just... exhausted, Kook. Jae was so fussy all day, and I feel like I’ve run out of energy. I just need to rest."
A visible wave of relief washed over him. He wasn't being rejected because you had lost interest; it was simply the bone-deep weariness of a new mother.
He let out a soft sigh, humming in understanding as he leaned over to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. "I get it. Let's just sleep, then." He draped a protective arm over you, pulling you into the familiar warmth of his chest, and within minutes, the exhaustion pulled you both into a heavy slumber.
The next morning, the house was draped in the pale, grey light of dawn. You rose early, slipping into your bathrobe to prepare a bath. This was your routine—showering before Jungkook left for work so he could keep an eye on the baby’s monitor.
But as the water began to steam, the guilt from the previous night resurfaced, sharper than before. You missed him. You missed the way he looked at you, the way his hands felt against your skin, and the effortless intimacy you used to share. You craved his touch, yet something held you back.
Standing before the vanity mirror, you hesitated. Slowly, with a trembling hand, you let the silk robe slide off your shoulders, pooling at your feet.
You looked at your reflection, really looking for the first time in weeks. Your eyes immediately fell to your abdomen, tracing the silvery, jagged lines of stretch marks that mapped out the journey of your pregnancy.
Your silhouette had softened; your hips were wider, and your frame carried a new, unfamiliar roundness.
"God," you whispered, the word catching in your throat.
Tears stung your eyes as a cold wave of insecurity washed over you. You traced a finger over the marks, feeling like a stranger in your own skin. The intrusive thoughts began to spiral, dark and relentless.
How could he still want this? What if he’s just being kind? What if he doesn't find me beautiful anymore?
Jungkook was sitting on the rug, a picture of domestic bliss as he entertained Jae, when you walked into the living room. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, catching the soft edges of the home you had built together.
"I’ll be taking him to the clinic for his monthly checkup today," you mentioned, your voice slightly muffled by the steam of the coffee you were pouring.
Jungkook looked up, his attention momentarily diverted from Jae, who was currently preoccupied with tugging relentlessly at his father's shirt collar. "Do you want me to come along? I can push back my first meeting."
"No, stay," you insisted with a small, reassuring shake of your head. "It’s just a routine checkup, and the driver will be there to help with the stroller anyway."
You joined them on the floor for a while, the air filling with lighthearted banter and the latest family gossip. It was a rare, peaceful pocket of time before the day truly began.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Jungkook said, standing up and smoothing out the sharp lines of his suit jacket. "There’s a small gathering at my aunt’s place this Sunday. Mom was pretty adamant about us making an appearance."
"Of course," you replied, giving him a supportive smile. You leaned in to press a quick, lingering kiss to his lips. He beamed, waving a playful goodbye to a babbling Jae before heading out the door.
Once the house grew quiet, you retreated to the bedroom. Jae was sprawled comfortably in the middle of the large bed, kicking his legs and staring intently at the ceiling fan. Taking advantage of his good mood, you began rummaging through your closet, pulling out options for the Sunday gathering.
One by one, the dresses you used to love felt like betrayals. Some were too tight in places they never used to be, while others draped awkwardly, making you feel alien to yourself. You reached for your favorite black bodycon—the one that used to make you feel invincible. As you pulled it on and turned toward the mirror, you let out a shaky breath. The fabric clung to your new curves, highlighting the softness of your post-partum silhouette in a way that made your heart sink.
A lump formed in your throat as you stood there, feeling exposed even in your own room. With a heavy sigh, you pulled the dress off and tossed it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes.
Biting your lip to keep the tears at bay, you reached for your phone. Your thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before you began scrolling through a maternity-friendly boutique, quickly ordering something new—something with more flow, something that would hide the parts of you that you weren't ready to show the world.
Shaking off the lingering sting of insecurity, you gathered Jae’s diaper bag and prepared for the hospital visit, putting on a brave face for the day ahead.
°
After the routine hospital visit, you stopped by a nearby CVS to pick up a few essentials. As you stood at the checkout counter, a familiar, high-pitched voice sliced through the quiet of the store.
"Jeon Y/n?"
You turned instantly, your eyes widening with pleasant surprise. "Soora! Oh my god, hey!" It was one of your classmates from university, her face bright with recognition.
Soora’s gaze immediately drifted to the sleeping bundle in your arms. "Is this your little guy?" she whispered, her face melting into a smile.
The two of you migrated to the cafe next door, catching up over the hum of the espresso machine. Soora hadn't changed a bit; she spent the better part of an hour gushing about her new boyfriend and her latest career moves.
"Jae, right? That was his name?" she asked, leaning in to admire the infant’s peaceful face.
"Yes," you replied, a soft, maternal pride warming your chest.
"He looks exactly like Jungkook!" she exclaimed.
You let out a soft laugh. "I know. They match in energy, too—completely restless."
As the conversation wound down, Soora ordered a decadent pastry, offering you a bite. You politely declined, never having much of a sweet tooth.
"Of course, you must be dieting," she said casually, taking a forkful of cake.
"Hmm?" You blinked, caught off guard.
"Well, you look a little... chubby," she added, her tone light and conversational, as if she were simply commenting on the weather. "Pregnancy does that, I guess. It makes sense that you’re watching what you eat."
She didn't mean any malice; she was just stating what she saw as an innocent fact. But to you, it felt like a physical blow. The insecurity you had been nursing since that morning flared into a painful ache.
You forced a tight smile and nodded slowly, but your mind began to spiral. You made a quick excuse to leave, the weight of her words settling heavily in your stomach.
That evening, the house was filled with the rhythmic sounds of Jungkook yapping about his workday. He moved around the kitchen with high energy, setting the dinner table while you finished the last of the meal prep.
"I’m actually not eating tonight," you said, keeping your voice steady as you wiped down the counter.
"Why not?" he asked, popping his head back into the kitchen, his expression falling into a pout.
You swallowed hard, refusing to look at him. "I had some ramen earlier this evening," you lied. You knew Jungkook; if you said you weren't hungry, he’d assume you were sick and try to spoon-feed you himself. A specific heavy snack was the only way out.
"Oh. Well, just one bite of this?" he urged as he sat down.
"No, I’m really stuffed, Kook." You sat beside him anyway, playing the role of the attentive listener as he ate and continued his stories, though your stomach growled in silent protest.
°
The next morning, the air was cool and quiet. You were sitting on the bed, gently rocking Jae, when Jungkook stepped into the room. He had just finished his morning workout and was clad only in low-slung track pants. Beads of sweat glistened on his sculpted chest as he tipped back a bottle of water.
You felt a sharp tug of desire in your lower belly. He was breathtakingly handsome—rugged, strong, and entirely yours. Your thighs clenched instinctively as you watched the play of muscles in his back.
Jungkook caught your gaze in the mirror. He wasn't oblivious; he saw the hunger in your eyes and felt an immediate, matching surge of heat. In his eyes, your body had only become more alluring since the birth of your son—softer, more womanly, and utterly captivating. His gaze darkened as he noticed the silk strap of your nightgown had slipped down your shoulder, revealing a tantalizing hint of skin.
After you tucked Jae into his crib in the nursery, you returned to the bedroom. Jungkook had showered and was lounging on the bed, still shirtless, his skin smelling of soap and warmth. You hovered by the vanity, nervously applying your skincare, before finally sliding into bed beside him.
He didn't hesitate. He pulled you flush against him, his eyes burning with a need he had suppressed for far too long. His knees brushed against your thighs, and his calloused thumb began a slow, agonizingly beautiful caress along your collarbone.
"Y/n..." he breathed, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that made your heart skip.
Your breath hitched. You wanted him so badly it hurt, but the voices in your head were louder. What if he sees the marks? What if he thinks I’ve let myself go?
He leaned down, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot against your ear. He was impatient now, his body hard and demanding against yours. But as his hands began to wander, the panic flared.
Suddenly, his phone on the nightstand erupted into a loud ring.
You jolted, using the noise as a literal shield to push him away. Jungkook’s jaw tightened, a flash of pure frustration crossing his handsome features. Usually, you both ignored the world when you were on the verge getting intimate.
"Answer it," you said, your voice breathless as you scrambled out of his reach. "I... I need to go check on Jae."
"He’s sound asleep, Y/n," Jungkook groaned, his voice thick with unspent desire.
"I just want to be sure."
Before he could reach out to pull you back, you were out the door, your heart hammering against your ribs. Jungkook let out a frustrated growl, snatched up the phone, and answered the call with a sharp "What?" while you stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall and trying to catch your breath.
°
Jungkook let out a jagged sigh of relief, his hand moving with a desperate, frantic rhythm. In the solitary quiet of the bathroom, his mind was a whirlwind of images, all of them centered on you. He recalled the way he had woken up that morning, feeling the soft pressure of your plump lips against his shoulder and the weight of your body pressed against his.
He groaned, the sound muffled by the tiled walls, as he fantasized about the heat of your touch and the familiar, intoxicating mess of a night spent lost in each other.
But even as release finally came, it brought little satisfaction. A lingering ache remained, fueled by the growing worry of why you kept pulling away. It was becoming a pattern, a distance he didn't know how to bridge.
By evening, the tension had been tucked away behind a veneer of elegance. You stood before the mirror in a forest-green dress, the fabric draping over your new curves. Jungkook, dressed casually in a crisp grey shirt and dark jeans, stepped up behind you.
"You look absolutely breathtaking," he murmured, his hands settling firmly on your hips as he admired your reflection. You offered him a small, fragile smile, silently wondering if those words would hold true if he saw you without the artful concealment of the dress.
Before the moment could deepen, Jae’s cry echoed from the nursery. Jungkook pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek and rushed out to tend to him.
The drive to his aunt’s house was filled with a quiet, charged energy. Jungkook found his gaze drifting toward you at every red light. He felt like a smitten teenager all over again, desperate to catch your eye and win your favor.
"Ouch... Jae, gentle," you hissed softly, wincing as the baby grew restless and nipped at you during a mid-drive feeding.
Jungkook glanced over, his hands steady on the wheel despite the sudden surge of heat that flooded his senses. The sight of you, so maternal and raw, sent his pulse racing. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, forced to focus his eyes strictly on the road to maintain some semblance of composure.
By the time the car pulled into the driveway, the ache of desire was nearly unbearable.
The gathering was a lively affair, with the family instantly swarming to dote on the new baby. You watched with a heart full of pride as Jae was passed from one adoring relative to another.
Across the room, Jungkook stood with his brothers and cousins, laughing at their jokes, yet his eyes never strayed from you for long. He tracked your movements with a protective, hungry intensity.
When dinner was served, you took your seat beside him. In front of you sat a perfectly seared steak—your absolute favorite. Your mouth watered at the savory aroma, but the echoes of Soora’s words and the image in the mirror held you back.
"Is everything alright, Y/n? You've hardly touched a thing," his mother noted, her brow furrowed with concern.
Jungkook looked down at your pristine plate and then up at you, his voice a low whisper. "What’s wrong? You love this."
"Nothing, I’m just taking my time," you lied, forcing yourself to cut a small piece of meat and take a bite. To your starving body, it was heaven; to your anxious mind, it felt like a betrayal of your resolve.
Jungkook wasn't convinced. He had noticed your meager breakfast of apple slices and the way you had survived the afternoon on a single cup of black coffee. He didn't know the thoughts racing through your head, and he hesitated to push you in front of the family.
Seeking to ground you, he reached under the table and gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You looked up, meeting his warm gaze and offering a small nod of reassurance. He smiled, though the worry didn't entirely leave his eyes.
Your gaze accidentally dropped to his lap, noticing the unmistakable tension in his frame. You bit your lower lip, a wave of guilt washing over you. You had heard his muffled groans from the bathroom that morning; it had taken every ounce of your self-control not to walk in and ease his frustration.
Sensing your gaze, Jungkook leaned in closer. "Eat," he commanded gently, transferring a prime cut of meat from his plate to yours. "You haven't been eating nearly enough lately, and I’m not letting you skip out on your favorite meal."
You couldn't help but smile at his mock-scolding tone, the warmth of his care momentarily quieting the insecurities that had been screaming all day.
°
The soft glow of the nursery lamp cast long, warm shadows across the room. The air was still, filled only with the rhythmic, peaceful breathing of your son. Jungkook leaned over the crib, his large hand looking even more powerful against the delicate frame of the sleeping infant. He adjusted the blanket with a tenderness that always made your heart ache.
"He looks so peaceful," Jungkook murmured, his voice barely a breath as he watched Jae’s tiny chest rise and fall. "He really is the best of us."
"He is," you whispered back, stepping closer until you were standing in the circle of warmth radiating from Jungkook. "He has your stubbornness, though. He refused to nap for even a second this afternoon."
Jungkook let out a low, tired chuckle and finally straightened up, turning to face you. The exhaustion of the long day at his aunt's house was etched into the lines around his eyes, but his gaze was soft as it landed on you. The quiet of the nursery felt like a sanctuary, a world away from the prying eyes of relatives and the loud bustle of the city.
He reached out, his fingers grazing your arm, tracing the line of your green dress. "Finally," he sighed, "some quiet."
The guilt from the day—the skipped meals, the rejected touches, and the silent insecurities—seemed to weigh heavier in the stillness. You looked up at him, seeing the man who had stayed up with you through every midnight cry and who looked at you with more adoration now than he ever had in college.
"Kook..." you started, your voice trembling just slightly.
"Don't," he interrupted softly, sensing the apology forming on your lips. He stepped into your personal space, his presence grounding and solid. "You don't have to say anything. I just want to be near you."
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a slow, weary embrace. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady, familiar thrum of his heart. For a moment, the mirror's reflection and Soora's comments didn't matter. In the dim light of your son’s room, held tightly by the man you loved, you felt a flickering sense of peace.
The bedroom was heavy with a suffocating silence as Jungkook collapsed onto the bed. He looked exhausted, his muscular frame sprawled across the sheets as he stared at the ceiling with a hollow kind of longing.
Seeing him like this, needy and frustrated, yet still so patient with your distance made the guilt in your chest become unbearable. You realized that while you were obsessing over your flaws, he was starving for the woman he loved.
Moving with a sudden, quiet resolve, you crawled toward him. Jungkook’s breath hitched as you settled between his legs, your eyes meeting his dark, hooded gaze. Without a word, you reached for the button of his jeans.
As you lowered his zipper, his cock sprang free, already painfully hard and pulsing with a desperate heat. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip, silver in the dim light, and the sight of him so ready for you made your own body ache.
"Y/n... what are you—" he started, his voice a broken rasp.
You didn't answer with words. Instead, you leaned down, letting your tongue dart out to lick the length of him, tasting the salt and heat of his skin. He let out a jagged, guttural groan, his head falling back against the headboard. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the frantic thrum of his pulse, and leaned forward to finally suck the velvet head into your mouth.
The sensation was overwhelming. He was so large and firm, filling you completely as you began to move with a slow, rhythmic suction. Jungkook’s fingers tangled deep into your hair, his knuckles turning white as he guided your pace.
"God, baby... you’re so wet and warm," he choked out, his hips bucking instinctively against your lips.
You quickened the pace, swirling your tongue around him, focused entirely on the way his breath shattered every time you took him deeper. He was trembling now, his entire body wound tight like a coiled spring. The power you felt in that moment eclipsed every insecurity; in this room, in this light, you were the only thing he wanted.
"I'm close... Y/n, I'm gonna—"
You didn't let go. You gripped him tighter, your mouth working fervently until he finally broke. Jungkook let out a loud, raw cry as he came, his body shuddering violently with the release he had been craving for months.
When it was over, he pulled you up his body.
The heavy, post-release bliss in the room was short-lived. Jungkook, still pulsing with the adrenaline of the moment, shifted his weight. His eyes were dark with a different kind of fire now—one that wasn't just about his own satisfaction, but about reclaiming the connection he felt slipping through his fingers.
"My turn," he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly promise.
He reached out, his large hands finding the delicate zipper at the back of your forest-green dress. The metallic slide sounded loud in the quiet room. As the fabric loosened, Jungkook leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive curve where your neck met your shoulder. He began to lick and nip at your skin, his hands sliding around to your front to find the weight of your breast through the silk.
"You're so beautiful, Y/n," he breathed against your skin, his touch becoming more frantic, more needy. "I've missed the way you feel. Let me..."
But as his fingers grazed the edge of your bra, the familiar cold spike of panic flared in your chest. The image of those silvery stretch marks and the softness of your stomach flashed in your mind like a warning light. Before he could pull the dress down past your shoulders, you grabbed his wrists, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps.
"No, Kook... stop," you whispered, pulling away and clutching the loosened fabric to your chest.
Jungkook froze, his hands hovering in mid-air. "Baby, what’s wrong? I want to help you too. I can see how much you need this. Just let me love you."
He tried to lean back in, his eyes searching yours for a spark of the passion you’d shown just minutes ago. He reached for the hem of your gown again, his intentions pure and desperate to make you feel as good as he just had.
"I said no!" you snapped, more harshly than you intended. You let out a long, shaky sigh, turning your back to him as you re-zipped the dress with trembling fingers. "I’m just... I’m not in the mood. I told you, I’m tired."
The rejection hit him like a physical blow. Jungkook sat back on his heels, then slowly stood up from the bed. He stood there, shirtless and disheveled, his brow furrowed in deep, painful confusion.
The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. He watched you move to the vanity, avoiding his reflection in the glass. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of the mixed signals. Why would you go down on him so fervently—taking his cock with such hunger and making him feel like the only man on earth—only to recoil the second he tried to touch your body?
"I don't understand," he said quietly, his voice laced with a hurt he couldn't hide. "If you're too tired to be touched, why did you just...?"
You didn't answer. You couldn't. You just kept your back turned, terrified that if he saw the tears in your eyes, he’d realize just how broken your confidence really was.
Jungkook didn’t let you retreat this time. He moved from the bed, his footsteps silent on the rug, and sat on the vanity stool directly in front of you. He forced you to acknowledge him, his presence large and grounding.
"Talk to me... Y/n... please," he pleaded, his voice cracking with a mixture of love and desperation. "This isn't you. Something is eating at you. I can see it in the way you look at yourself, the way you’re skipping meals. It’s killing me."
The dam finally broke. A loud, jagged sob escaped your throat, your shoulders shaking violently as months of silent insecurity finally boiled over.
Jungkook didn't hesitate; he surged forward, pulling you off the chair and into his lap. He wrapped his powerful arms around you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, letting you soak his skin with your tears. He just held you, his hand rhythmically patting your back, a constant, steady force against your chaos.
When your sobs finally subsided into shaky breaths, he pulled back just enough to frame your face with his hands. He used his thumbs to wipe the dampness from your cheeks, his gaze searching yours with a piercing intensity.
"Tell me," he whispered, his forehead leaning against yours. "Talk to me. Whatever it is, we fix it together. Just don't shut me out anymore."
You swallowed hard, your voice trembling as you finally gave words to the darkness. "I... I hate my body, Jungkook," you choked out, fresh tears blurring your vision. "I look in the mirror and I don't see the woman you married. I see the marks, the weight... I see how much I’ve changed. And when you look at me, when you try to touch me... I’m just so scared that you’re disappointed. That I’m not beautiful to you anymore."
Jungkook went completely still, his eyes widening as the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place. The skipped meals, the rejection of his touch, the way you had avoided the mirror—it wasn't that you didn't want him. You didn't think you were worthy of being wanted.
"You think I'm disappointed?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, thick with disbelief. "Y/n, look at me."
He took a deep breath, his hands sliding down from your face to rest firmly on your waist, his grip possessive and sure. "I have been dying to get my hands on you for months. Not because I’m just needy, but because you have never looked more like a woman to me than you do right now. Those marks? That softness? That’s my son’s first home. That is the proof of what you went through for our family."
He stood up, pulling you with him until you were standing in front of the full-length mirror. He stood behind you, his large, warm hands splaying over your stomach, forcing you to look at the reflection you had been fleeing.
"Look," he commanded gently, his lips brushing your ear. "I see a queen. I see the mother of my child. I see the most gorgeous, and incredible woman I’ve ever known. I don't want the girl from college, Y/n. I want you. Right here. Right now.”
Jungkook’s mind raced back through the last few weeks—the way you’d scrambled to cover yourself whenever he entered the room and the untouched plates of food you’d pushed away.
The realization hurt, but it only made his resolve stronger. He leaned down, pressing a lingering, reverent kiss to the side of your neck.
"You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, Y/n," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with conviction. "Don’t ever doubt that. Not for a single second."
His words acted like a balm, slowly quieting the frantic noise in your head. His large, warm palms began to move in soothing, rhythmic circles over your abdomen, his touch grounding you. He let out a soft, airy laugh against your cheek. "You really are an idiot, you know that?"
You shifted in his lap, giving him a weak glare through your wet lashes. "You won't find me... repulsive? When you actually see everything?"
"No." The answer was instantaneous, sharp and leaves no room for argument.
"But... things changed. I'm not... pretty down there anymore. It looks—"
Jungkook didn't let you finish. He captured your lips in a firm, silencing kiss that tasted of salt and desperation. When he pulled back, his eyes were burning. "Let me be the judge of that," he whispered, his voice dropping to a gravelly register.
With deliberate slowness, he reached for the straps of your silk gown. You tried to shrink away, your instinct to hide still flickering, but he caught your gaze and held it.
As the fabric pooled around your waist, his breath hitched, coming out in a shattered exhale. He stared at your body, at the soft curves and the silver lines that marked the journey of bringing his son into the world with a look of pure, unadulterated worship.
"Fuck," he swore under his breath, his pupils dilating until his eyes were almost entirely black. "I am so hard."
He pulled you flush against him, his thick, pulsing cock pressing firmly against your hip. You let out a shaky gasp at the sheer size and heat of him.
"Feel that?" he growled, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. "Feel exactly how much you still drive me out of my mind. You think these marks make you less? They make you a goddess to me. You’re strong. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect."
He began to trail kisses downward, his mouth hot and needy as he explored every inch of the skin you had tried so hard to hide. The way he looked at you—like you were the most precious thing he’d ever laid eyes on—began to burn away the last of your shame, replacing it with a mounting, heavy heat.
Jungkook didn't give you a chance to retreat back into your thoughts. He scooped you up, his powerful arms locking under your thighs as he carried you the short distance to the bed.
He laid you down in the center of the mattress, the moonlight catching the silver of your stretch marks—lines he traced with a worshipful gaze before spreading your legs wide.
"Kook..." you whimpered, feeling exposed, but he silenced you by leaning down and pressing a searing kiss to the inside of your thigh.
"Open for me, baby," he growled, his voice thick with an edge. "I want to see everything. I want to taste how much you want me."
As you slowly yielded, Jungkook moved between your knees. He didn't look away; instead, he stared intently at your entrance, his thumb reaching out to gently part your folds. You were already glistening, a sweet, natural wetness coating your skin. He let out a low, guttural hum of approval, his eyes darkening.
"Look at you," he whispered, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "So beautiful. So wet for me."
He leaned in, his tongue darting out to lick a slow, agonizing stripe from your bottom to your clit. You arched off the bed, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as the friction sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. He didn't stop there. He used his fingers to spread you further, exposing the pink, swollen center of your pleasure.
He began to eat you out with a focused, reverent intensity. His tongue was broad and warm, swirling around your clit before diving deep to taste the creaminess of your pussy. He used his spit to lubricate his movements, making every slide of his tongue feel slick and heavy.
"You taste so good, Y/n," he mumbled against your wet skin, the vibrations of his voice making you tremble.
He grew more aggressive, his suckling becoming firmer as he sensed you nearing the edge. He buried his face in you, his nose rubbing against your soft hair as he focused his attention on the small, pulsing bud of your pleasure. You were a mess of tangled sheets and broken moans, your fingers clutching at his hair as he devoured you.
The insecurity that had plagued you for months vanished, incinerated by the sheer heat of his worship. He wasn't just helping you; he was obsessed with you. He drank you in like a dying man, his tongue flicking rhythmically until your hips began to jerk uncontrollably.
"That's it, baby... give it all to me," he urged, his voice a dark command.
As the first waves of your orgasm hit, he slid two fingers deep inside your entrance, mimicking the motion of his cock while his mouth stayed locked on your clit. The dual sensation was too much. You cried out his name, your body shuddering violently as you collapsed into the pillows, completely spent and thoroughly worshipped.
Jungkook didn’t give you a moment to recover. As you lay there breathless, your body still humming from the aftershocks of the climax he’d just gifted you, he crawled up the length of your body like a predator reclaiming its prize. His eyes were dark, dilated with a raw, primal hunger that made your heart hammer against your ribs.
"I’m not done with you yet," he rasped, his voice a low, vibrating rumble. "Not even close."
He hovered over you, his heavy, muscular frame a warm weight that made you feel small and cherished. He captured your lips in a deep, bruising kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste the lingering sweetness of your own wetness on his breath.
As the heat intensified, the physical reality of your postpartum body made itself known—the stimulation and the surge of emotion caused your breasts to feel heavy, and a small amount of milk began to leak, bead-like and ivory against your skin.
You let out a small, self-conscious whimper, trying to turn away, but Jungkook’s gaze followed the path of the moisture. He didn't recoil; instead, his expression softened into something intensely carnal and worshipful.
"Kook, I—"
"It’s beautiful," he interrupted, his voice thick. He leaned down, his warm lips surrounding your nipple as he began to suck with a slow, rhythmic pull. The sensation was electric, a direct line of pleasure shooting from your chest to your pussy. You let out a loud, unrestrained scream, your back arching off the bed as he used his tongue to lick and swirl around the sensitive peak.
"Jungkook! Oh god, Kook!" you moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your nails leaving crescent marks in his skin. The raw intimacy of it—the way he embraced every part of your motherhood and turned it into something incredibly erotic—shattered the last of your defenses.
He moved lower, his hard throbbing cock rubbing against your thigh, slick with pre-cum. He positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked onto yours. "I want to feel you, Y/n. All of you."
He pushed inside slowly, a low growl escaping his throat as your tight, wet heat encased him. He let out a long, shaky breath, hovering there for a moment to let you adjust. You felt stretched, full, and utterly claimed.
"You’re so tight," he groaned, beginning to move in long, deep strokes. Each thrust was deliberate, a slow grind that forced you to feel the sheer size of him. He wasn't just fucking you; he was reclaiming you, his body worshiping yours with every heavy push.
He leaned down to whisper filth in your ear, his breath hot and needy. "Do you feel how much I want you? Do you feel how perfect you are for me?"
You could only sob out his name, your head tossing back and forth on the pillow. The friction against your clit was perfect, and with every thrust, you felt your internal muscles clench around his cock, desperate to pull him deeper. He quickened the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the quiet room, mingled with your loud, breathless moans.
He was relentless, driving into you with a rhythmic power that made the headboard thud against the wall. He watched your face, watching the way your eyes rolled back and how you called for him, his own pleasure reaching a breaking point.
"I love you, Y/n," he choked out, his movements becoming frantic and heavy. "Everything about you... is mine."
With one final, deep surge, he buried himself inside you as far as he could go. You felt the hot, pulsing rhythm of his release filling you, a shared explosion of heat that left you both trembling. He collapsed onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged, exhausted hitches as he held you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth.
Jungkook remained draped over you for a long moment, his forehead pressed against yours as both of your heartbeats gradually slowed their frantic pace.
When he finally shifted, he didn't pull away completely. Instead, he retreated just enough to grab a soft, warm cloth from the en-suite. He returned to the bed and settled between your legs once more, but this time, his movements were filled with a quiet, domestic reverence.
"Stay still, baby," he whispered, his voice still raspy from the screams he’d let out moments ago.
With agonizing gentleness, he began to wipe away the traces of your shared passion. He was meticulous, his touch light as he cleaned the wetness from your thighs and the lingering spit and creaminess from your entrance.
Every stroke of the cloth was accompanied by a soft kiss—to your knee, to the curve of your calf, and eventually, to the silvery lines on your stomach that you had spent so long trying to hide.
"You see these?" he murmured, his thumb tracing a stretch mark with a tenderness that made your throat ache. "They’re like a map of how we became a family. I don’t see 'imperfections,' Y/n. I see the strength it took to carry Jae. I see the woman who gave me everything."
He looked up, his dark eyes shimmering with an honesty that was impossible to doubt. "You’re softer, yeah. You’re curvier. And fuck, I’ve never been more attracted to you in my entire life. You’re a mother now, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen."
As he moved up to clean your chest, he paused, his eyes lingering on the skin he had just been worshipping. He didn't shy away or look embarrassed; instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to each breast. "I love every single change, Y/n. Because every change happened while you were making our son."
For the first time in months, the crushing weight of insecurity didn't just lighten—it dissolved. Watching him care for you with such unhurried devotion, hearing the way his voice shook when he talked about your beauty, you finally let the truth sink in.
You reached out, your fingers tangling in his damp hair, and pulled him up for a slow, deep kiss. It wasn't fueled by the frantic need of earlier, but by a soul-deep sense of security.
"I believe you," you whispered against his lips, a small, genuine smile finally tugging at your mouth. "I’m sorry I doubted you. And me."
Jungkook grinned, that familiar, boyish light returning to his eyes as he pulled the covers up around both of you, tucking you firmly against his side. "Good. Because I’m going to spend every day reminding you until you’re sick of hearing it."
As you drifted off to sleep, curled into the heat of his chest, the mirrors in the house no longer felt like enemies. You were loved, not in spite of your changes, but because of the incredible journey they represented. And in Jungkook’s arms, you were exactly where you were meant to be.
—nerd!jungkook asking popular!fem!poc!reader to prom <3
—warnings ! - fluff, koo being a lil shy bean, him being whipped and having the BIGGEST crush on reader, reader is confident and extroverted, Tae and Jimin are mentioned briefly,
— hey siri! play right there by ariana grande ! ᥫ᭡
for anyone that knew how high school was, it usually came with its cliques. sure, it wasn’t high school musical level—but it close enough for some.
there were the nerds, the group of football players that walked around the school like a herd of sheep. the cheerleaders, and the “popular” group— the ones that didn’t take school as seriously and used their parents money to buy the next expensive thing they see.
jungkook was considered to be in the nerd category—in a comic collecting, head always in a textbook, marvel movie watching, collecting figurines sort of way. not that he complained, he was happy to be in that position, drew less attention to himself.
that wasn’t the problem though, it was you. you weren’t considered to be in that category, you were in the more popular status of the school. you were always walking around with the other popular girls, girls who thought it was okay to be malicious and judgmental to everyone. and when jungkook first saw you, he assumed you would be just like them.
but it turns out, you weren’t, and now he had one of the biggest crushes on you. he remembers the first interaction you two ever had. it was in a history class you both had together, and you were assigned to work with a partner on a group project. and by some fate of the universe, coincidentally you both were chosen to be partners.
jungkook was overly nervous to put it simply, he didn’t know how you would be as a partner. he assumed he would be the one doing all the work, and the two of you sit in silence for most of the class period. but actually, it was the opposite. instead you came and sat down in the desk next to him with the sweetest smile adorning your face. the second thing he noticed was everything you owned was pink. Pink school supplies, pink backpack, pink water bottle, even a pink pencil case.
“hi! I hope you don’t mind us being partners! I’ll try my best to help, even if history isn’t my best subject”, you spoke with a smile, tucking some of your silk pressed hair behind your ear.
jungkook was stunned momentarily—partly from your kindness and your beauty. the fact that you even said anything to him at all had him stumped—he could even feel some of the popular girls staring their way, judgmental and side-eyed.
before after that, you both found out that polar opposite friendships really do exist. you two fit together so well, it quite literally didn’t make sense to a lot of people. seeing you both walking down the hallway together, eating at lunch together some day, even doing homework together in the library.
jungkook would even invite you over to his house sometimes after school, watching marvel movies together or you watching fondly as he showed you his comic book collection.
you two couldn’t separate even if you wanted to.
a few months into you guys friendship and you still didn’t know about jungkooks growing feelings for you. you were everything he wanted and more. you were kind, loving, confident, passionate about the things you cared for. and you never cared what people thought of your friendship. anyone that would dare to say anything you were able to easily shut them down, even as simple as a glare sent their way.
which is why jungkook finally wanted to ask you to prom. the prom season was near and everyone was already asking their significant others with huge grand gestures to the last dance of the year for seniors.
with the help of his close friends jimin and taehyung, he was able to fully prepare for how he would ask you. a poster inspired by your favorite song, right there by ariana grande and a bouquet of specially picked pink lily’s from a nearby flower shop his mom suggest he go to.
and now here he was, walking down the hallway with the two items in his trembling hands. he gave himself a mental pep talk—pushing up his glasses with his finger as he walked.
“you can do it, you got this”, he murmured to himself, trying to ignore the countless stares he was getting. it was useless attention—which he didn’t want—but it was worth it.
jungkook eventually got to your locker, smiling fondly seeing the outfit you were wearing—a pink cardigan and jean skirt with mary janes. you back was turned, but he didn’t need to see your face, he knew you looked beautiful that day.
before he could even try and gain your attention, one of your friends let out a small gasp seeing what he was holding. “mhm? what’s wrong?”you looked at her with confusion, tilting your head before turning around. you face melted into one of surprise, letting out a small gasp of own.
“hey uh, I-I know it’s sudden but”, jungkook spoke nervously, already feeling his face heating up. “will you be right there and go to prom with me?” he gave a soft, nervous smile as he showed you the poster. it had light pink bows hot glued to the sides, the handwriting neat and pretty. and lastly, the album cover to Yours Truly glued on it as well.
“Oh koo”, you spoke softly, feeling your throat tighten just seeing how much effort was put into something so simple. you didn’t even think he would remember what your favorite song even was.
everyone was looking at the both of you at this point, some with judgmental stares, others simply waiting for what you were gonna say. the fact that he was asking you made them even more appalled.
“I’d love to go to prom with you”, you answer with the brightest of smiles, throwing yourself into his arms as you wrap your arms around his neck. jungkook yelped with surprised, almost dropping the poster and flowers. he soon smiled, returning her hug, even lifting you off the ground a bit.
“God I can’t believe your going with him of all people”, one of the girls complained, loud enough for you to hear. and you knew that was all you would hear people gossip about for weeks—but you didn’t care, you only hugged jungkook tighter. nothing else mattered—because the boy you’ve been crushing on just asked you to senior prom.
“thank you for asking me. I can’t wait to go with you”, you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek as your feet meet the ground. “thank you for saying yes”. jungkook blushes instantly, caught off guard by the sudden gesture.
but he had done it, he asked you, the girl he was falling in love with to prom—and he couldn’t wait to go with you either.
I read overdrive in one day, I need more I’m obsessed 😍😭😭 it’s so good
hiyaa love! woowowe in one day is crazy but it means so much that you’re so engrossed and enjoying my story 🥹 thankchuu sm <3 i hope overdrive jk appears in your dreams tonight
After discovering her brother's secret life as the leader of an underground racing crew, Y/N is pulled into a world of speed, danger, and rivalry. That's where she meets Jeon Jungkook - the fearless leader of the opposing crew, the one her brother can't stand, and the last person she should ever get close to. But Jungkook is impossible to ignore. And Y/N is impossible for him to forget. Because in a world where every choice could end in flames...falling for each other might be the most dangerous race of all.
pairing. racer!jk x model!reader
warnings. brother's enemy, somewhat forbidden love, smut, angst, fluff, obsession, jealousy, possessiveness, masturbation, unprotected sex, sexting, bodily fluids, rough sex, multiple positions, public sex, degradation kink, dirty talk, sexual tension, sexual teasing, smoking, violence, illegal activities, mentions of blood, control
playlist | m.list
w.c. 6.5k
Stay ₊ ⊹₊ ⊹
It had been seventy-two hours. And Jungkook had only gotten five of them.
Only five fucking hours to touch her. To kiss her properly. To bury his face in her neck and whisper things he’d never said out loud before she — once again, and not even on purpose — slipped right past his fingers.
They had finally sorted their shit out and finally crossed that line. Oh then she boarded a plane. The timing was almost laughable. If Jungkook wasn’t so irritated about it, he would’ve admired the irony.
“Yo, Kook!” The sudden hard pat against his back almost made his phone do a swan dive onto the puddle of gas. Clammy palm smacking leather jacket, a sticky, muffled thwap echoing against the hood.
“You’ve been glued to that screen all night. C’mon, man—last race for the night, hot ladies, drinks, loud music—you love this!” Taehyung rubbed under his nose with one finger, the other hand balancing a glass of whiskey.
“My mom,” Jungkook muttered. “Won’t shut up about… stuff.” He didn’t bother hiding the eye-roll behind his yellow tinted sunglasses — they were useless in the dim garage anyway.
“Still that blabbermouth of a mother of yours, huh?” Taehyung snickered, settling down next to him on the hood. Jungkook’s thumb idly rubbed the smooth curve of the phone case, almost as if caressing it could steady his pulse.
His mind wasn’t on Taehyung or the party or the race that was seconds away. It was on her. Y/n. That little whirlwind of chaos and sunlight that had invaded his life.
Taehyung took another sip from his glass, then tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing at Jungkook’s thumb that was swiping on his phone, like it personally offended him.
“Mm!” He chocked. “That the model chick?”
Jungkook’s thumb froze mid-scroll. Taehyung let out a quiet laugh and it was the kind that meant he’d already caught the reaction he needed.
“Yeah. Thought so.”
“Shut up,” Jungkook muttered, locking his phone and shoving it into his jacket pocket.
“What?” Taehyung spread his arms. “I’m just asking. Last time I saw you you were stalking her Instagram like a creepy little bastard.”
“I wasn’t stalking—”
“Bullshit,” Taehyung cut in immediately, snorting. “You checked her timeline for five days straight.”
Jungkook already felt irritation crawling up his spine like ants. He arched a brow, “you done?”
“Nah, not really.” Taehyung looked down at his drink and swirled the glass in a circular motion, grin spreading slowly.
“So what happened, huh? You went all… Romeo at her fancy-ass mansion, waited like some lovesick idiot, and then… what? Ghosted you?”
Actually, Jungkook didn’t tell anyone. Yet. Not Namjoon, not Taehyung, not Marquise — not anyone in Black Reign. Some secrets weren’t meant to be spilled. Jungkook also didn’t trust them — not when the first squeal of a rumor could put Y/n in the middle of his messy world. If Yoongi found out that way too, who knows what he’d do to either of them. He didn’t need Y/n caught in that storm.
“She didn’t ghost me.”
“Oh shit,” Taehyung laughed louder. “So she let you speak?”
Jungkook shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. Taehyung raised both hands.
“Alright, alright. Relax, tiger. I’m just saying—you disappeared that night to admit your feelings to her, then came back acting like someone ran over your dog.”
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “You talk too much.”
“Yeah, but I’m also usually right.” Taehyung tilted his head again, studying him. “So—what—you two a thing now?”
Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. The silence stretched for a second too long.
Taehyung’s brows lifted slowly. “Holy shit.”
“Don’t start—” Jungkook warned.
“You are, aren’t you?” Taehyung pointed a finger as he laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Man, Yoongi’s gonna lose his damn mind.”
“That’s exactly why you’re gonna keep your mouth shut.”
Taehyung smirked, placing his palm against his chest. “Relax. Your secret’s safe with me.” Then he glanced at Jungkook’s pocket where the phone was. “But if that is her texting you…” He leaned closer, voice dropping teasingly next to Jungkook’s ear. “You better not let it distract you from the race tonight, lover boy. Would be pretty embarrassing if Black Reign’s leader wrecked his car cause he couldn’t stop texting his girlfriend.”
Jungkook scoffed, but his jaw tightened just a little. “Yeah,” he muttered, pushing off the hood. “Sure.”
Taehyung just grinned because Jungkook hadn’t denied it. He slammed a hand against the hood, loud enough to make Taehyung flinch and splash some liquor onto his nose.
“Alright,” he muttered, voice rough. “Let’s go crash some laps before I crash myself.”
Taehyung laughed. He gave Jungkook one last manly pat on his back before Jungkook slid into his black Porche.
He slid into the driver’s seat, the leather hugging his back like an old accomplice that already knew his habits. The car smelled faintly of gasoline, rubber, and the ghost of last week’s cigarette smoke — comforting in a gritty kind of way. Jungkook adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles rolling once before he started the engine.
The car growled awake, low and impatient, like a chained animal finally being let off the leash.
“Yeah, baby,” Jungkook purred under his breath, fingers caressing the wheel.
He rolled forward toward the starting line, tires crunching over loose gravel. The crowd was already loud as hell — people leaning over barricades, phones flashing, voices crashing into each other like waves. The air buzzed with cheap beer, gasoline fumes, and reckless anticipation.
Right beside him, an orange sports car glided into place. Jungkook glanced over.
Of course.
Park Jimin.
Jimin cracked his neck slowly, tilting his head side to side until something popped. Then he flexed his fingers, rolling his wrists like he was about to step into a boxing ring instead of a driver’s seat. Jungkook scoffed.
“Ay, midget,” he called through the open window, voice carrying easily over the engine noise. “You’re racing. Not fighting.” His grin slipped out before he could stop it — half amusement at Jimin’s dramatic warm-up, half because Y/n’s message was still sitting somewhere in the back of his head like fog that refused to clear.
Jimin glanced over lazily. “Who knows, Jeon,” he said, voice smooth as oil. “You might wanna take me down physically after I win.” That infamous sly smirk crawled up his blush-colored lips—the one that usually made people either swing at him or lose their cool.
Jungkook just snorted. “Keep dreaming.”
Across the track, someone lifted the gun. For half a second, everything held its breath. Engines snarled. The crowd roared.
Gunshot.
The world snapped into motion. Black and orange shot forward like bullets tearing through the night, headlights slicing the dark into blinding streaks. Tires screamed against the asphalt, rubber burning sharp in the air as the cars ripped down the road, turning the straightaway into a blur of neon and noise. The crowd behind them erupted. But inside the car, Jungkook’s world narrowed to the road, the wheel, the speed and soon, the faint buzz of his phone clutched in the holder.
The first stretch of road blurred past them in streaks of light and asphalt. Jungkook shifted gears smoothly, the engine roaring beneath him as the car responded like it was wired straight into his nerves. The steering wheel vibrated under his palms—alive, impatient. Beside him, Jimin’s orange car stayed glued to his flank, the bastard matching his speed turn for turn.
“Persistent lil’ shit,” Jungkook muttered, pressing the pedal harder.
Behind the barricades at the starting stretch, Taehyung cupped his hands around his mouth. “C’mon, Kook! Don’t let that short bastard pass you!”
Namjoon stood beside him, arms crossed but voice raised over the noise. “Hold the inside line, Jungkook!”
Across the track, the Silver Serpents crew were just as loud.
“Don’t choke now, Jimin!” Hoseok yelled, laughing as he leaned over the railing.
Marquise whistled sharply. “Dust his ass!”
Yoongi just watched with narrowed eyes, quiet but focused. Then—
Bzzzt.
A faint vibration came from the phone clipped into the holder beside his dashboard. Jungkook’s eyes flicked to the screen for half a second. The message lit up the dark interior of the car.
“Good luck, Racer King. Don’t crash 😉”
Butterflies didn’t just stir in Jungkook’s stomach —they shot straight to his chest, wings beating hard against his ribs until his breath caught. The nickname alone could’ve done it The way she called him ‘Racer King’ landed softer than it should’ve.
But what really fucked him up was the care behind it.
Care was something Jungkook usually dodged like a pothole at full speed. It came with expectations. With the terrifying obligation of feeling something back. He’d spent years locking that shit away where no one could reach it. Except Y/n had slipped past the locks like she had the damn keys. And now, the feeling was climbing his chest, restless and fluttering, making his heart beat like it suddenly had somewhere it needed to be.
Without thinking, Jungkook glanced at the phone again. A small, helpless smile tugged at his lips.
“Racer King…” he murmured under his breath.
Back at the barricades, Taehyung suddenly leaned forward.
“The hell is he doing?”
Namjoon’s eyes narrowed, tracking the black car as it drifted slightly off its line. “Jungkook,” he muttered under his breath.
Up ahead on the edge of the track sat a stack of large metal gas cans, pushed back near the guardrail from earlier refueling. And Jungkook’s car was heading straight toward them.
Taehyung’s eyes widened. “Kook!” he shouted instinctively. “Watch the—!”
Namjoon stepped forward, voice cutting through the chaos. “Jungkook! Look at the road!”
Even across the track, the Silver Serpents noticed. Yoongi straightened slightly, eyes sharpening as he followed the black car’s trajectory.
“The idiot’s drifting,” he muttered.
Hoseok squinted down the road. “Uh—why’s he heading for the cans?”
“Jeon!” Marquise shouted suddenly. “Watch out!”
Jungkook’s head finally snapped up for a moment.
“Shit—!”
Too late.
The front tire clipped the guardrail and the car slammed straight into the stack of metal cans with a deafening crash. Metal exploded across the asphalt, the containers clanging and rolling violently as sparks spat out behind the car. The impact jerked the vehicle sideways, the engine screaming as Jungkook fought the wheel.
“Fuck!”
A flash of orange shot past him like a fucking missile.
Jimin.
The Silver Serpent driver leaned out his window just enough to throw Jungkook a quick salute as he sped ahead, the smug bastard already claiming the lead.
Jungkook slammed his palm against the steering wheel. “Goddammit!”
The race wasn’t technically over yet, but he knew. Everyone knew. Jimin crossed the finish line first, the crowd’s roar exploding through the night like fireworks. Jungkook’s heart was still hammering in his chest — not from the speed or crash.
From the message.
The phone sat in its holder, the screen dimming slowly.
“Don’t crash 😉”
Jungkook let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh that sounded painful, dragging a hand down his face.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Too late.”
Jimin’s car crossed the finish line and — like the heartless jerks most of them were — Silver Serpents burst into cheers, swarming toward him like a pack that had just smelled blood.
“Fuck yeah!” Jimin whooped, punching his fist into the smoke-choked air before the car even fully stopped. The engine hissed and ticked from the heat as he swung the door open, stepping out with that cocky grin already plastered across his face.
Hoseok was the first to grab him. “Told you you’d smoke his ass!”
Marquise let out a sharp whistle. “Damn, Jimin! That was clean!”
Even Yoongi, who rarely bothered with theatrics, gave him a solid clap on the shoulder when he reached them.
“Lucky you,” he said simply.
Jimin just smirked, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “What can I say? Jeon handed that win to me on a silver platter.”
On the other side of the track, the mood was the complete opposite. The toppled tower of gasoline cans sat like a metal graveyard across the asphalt, some of them still rolling lazily as the sharp smell of fuel hung thick in the air. Jungkook’s black car was wedged right in the middle of the mess, engine coughing weakly. Black Reign were already sprinting toward it.
“Move—move!” Taehyung barked as he shoved past people. Namjoon was right behind him, long strides eating up the distance.
They barely reached the wreck before the driver’s door swung open abruptly. Jungkook’s heavy boots hit the ground first straight into a puddle of gasoline that splashed around his soles. He stumbled out of the car, one hand gripping the top of the door like it was the only thing keeping him upright. For a second he just stood there, swaying slightly. Then his knees almost buckled.
“Shit—!” Taehyung rushed forward, catching one of Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon grabbed the other, steadying him before he could faceplant into the asphalt.
Up close, they saw the damage. A thin cut split the side of Jungkook’s forehead, blood running down toward his temple, and another shallow gash stretched across his cheek. Not deep—but angry and red.
“Yo—the fuck happened?” Taehyung scoffed, half worried and half offended. “Were you even looking at the road?”
Jungkook just grunted, his weight sagging heavily between them as they started dragging—well, guiding—him toward the rest of Black Reign.
The crowd parted quickly when they saw him coming. Concern rippled through the gang as they cleared a path toward Taehyung’s car parked nearby.
“Shut it—just…get me to the car—” Jungkook hissed, voice tight. “Argh—fuck, my neck!” His face scrunched up, eyes squeezed shut as the pain shot through him.
“Think he got whiplash or some shit…” Namjoon muttered under his breath, slightly winded from hauling Jungkook’s weight. “Quick—get someone to treat him!” he called back to the others. A couple of the guys scrambled immediately, one already digging through a first aid kit someone kept in the trunk.
They finally reached Taehyung’s car, the boot already popped open. Jungkook dropped down onto the edge of it with a heavy exhale, elbows resting on his knees while someone pressed gauze against his forehead.
Across the lot, the celebration from Silver Serpents had quieted slightly. Yoongi and Marquise stood side by side now, both watching the trio limp toward the car. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Because the thing was — Jungkook crashing like that? Didn’t make sense. The guy was a freak behind the wheel. Half the time it looked like the road bent around him instead of the other way around.
Marquise finally crossed her arms. “The hell was that?”
Yoongi didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed locked on Jungkook sitting at the open boot while someone dabbed at the blood on his face. Something about it felt off. Wrong.
“Go,” Yoongi said quietly behind her.
Marquise whipped her head around. “What?”
“See what happened,” he said, nudging his chin toward Taehyung’s car.
“And you’re nosy because…?” she raised an eyebrow.
Actually, Yoongi didn’t really have an answer for that. He just knew Jungkook’s accident felt too damn strange. Just unlike him.
Yoongi clicked his tongue. “Just go.”
Marquise dramatically exhaled, the kind that made it sound like the entire situation was personally inconveniencing her.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. Still, she turned and dragged her heels toward the cluster of Black Reign gathered around Taehyung’s car.
“Ah—shit!” Jungkook flinched the moment the cotton touched his cut again. “Chill on the alcohol!” The guy holding the cotton ball barely pressed it against Jungkook’s forehead, yet Jungkook jerked back like he’d been stabbed.
“Boss, I’m barely touching—”
“I said chill,” Jungkook snapped, teeth clenched.
That was when Marquise stepped up. She stopped right in front of the group assembled at the open boot. The moment she did, several heads turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. Black Reign’s eyes were already studying her. Judging. Annoyed.
“Get lost,” Marquise said flatly, jerking her thumb away from the car. “Needa talk to your leader.” Taehyung let out a pathetic little laugh, like she’d just told the world’s worst joke.
“And we should listen to you because…?” His brows dropped in exaggerated confusion as he stepped forward, crossing his arms. “Last I checked, you’re not his chick anymore.”
A few of the guys snorted quietly. Taehyung tilted his head, eyes dragging slowly over her like he was examining something mildly irritating.
“So move along, honey.” He even made a flimsy little fanning motion with his hand.
Marquise inhaled slowly. It was the same breath someone took when dealing with a spoiled child they were dangerously close to drop-kicking.
“Careful,” she said, voice low. “I don’t take disrespect.”
Taehyung grinned. “Oh? Then… what should I call you?” He leaned a little closer, eyes glinting. “Minx?”
The word had barely left his mouth before Marquise’s hand shot forward, clutching the collar of the undershirt beneath his jacket and yanking him down to her height. Gasps and quiet “oh shit”s rippled through the guys watching. Their faces were inches apart now. Taehyung blinked once—surprised. Then a slow grin spread across his face.
“Well damn,” he murmured. “If you wanted me close you could’ve just asked.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Marquise hissed. Her grip tightened. “Call me ‘honey’ again, I’ll knock your teeth out.” Taehyung’s eyes flicked to her raised arm.
“Oh? You gonna—”
Her fist was already cocked back. Ready to swing.
“Enough!”
Jungkook’s voice cracked through the tension like a whip. Every head turned toward him. Marquise and Taehyung were still glaring at each other, breaths sharp, neither one backing down. Jungkook dragged a hand over his face, wincing when it brushed too close to the cut on his forehead.
“Get lost,” he muttered tiredly. “All of you.” Groans erupted immediately.
“Seriously?”
“C’mon, man—”
Marquise still had Taehyung by the shirt. Namjoon cleared his throat behind him.
“Marquise.”
She didn’t move. Namjoon calmly reached forward, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and peeled her grip off Taehyung’s shirt like he was removing gum from fabric. Taehyung straightened his clothes with a dramatic sigh.
“Jesus,” he muttered. As he turned away with Namjoon, he leaned slightly toward him and murmured under his breath—
“Fuck-ass cunt…”
Marquise rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t detach. Within seconds, the rest of the gang dispersed, leaving the area quieter. Even the guy with the first aid kit slipped away. Now it was just the two of them.
Jungkook sat on the edge of the open trunk, elbows on his knees, holding a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. He pressed it against his forehead.
“Ah—fuck—”
The sting made his fingers tremble slightly. Marquise walked closer. Without a word, she plucked the cotton from his hand. She muttered something before she tossed the bloodied cotton aside, grabbed a fresh one, soaked it, and gently pressed it to the cut. This time, far more carefully. Still, Jungkook hissed through his teeth.
Marquise sighed softly. “What happened?” Her tone had shifted. It sounded less like interrogation and more like a tired mother who already knew her kid had done something stupid. Jungkook stared downward for a moment.
“Distracted.”
“By what?” she asked. Another careful dab.
“Y/n isn’t here.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook muttered. “…but she was in here.” He tapped his temple with his index finger and let out a slightly cringed chuckle.
Marquise paused mid-dab. The silence stretched between them for a moment. The distant sound of engines cooling and muffled celebrations drifted from the other side of the lot. Marquise finally leaned back slightly, studying his face.
“Did… that night not go as planned?”
Jungkook let out a humorless laugh. “You could… say that.”
She raised a brow. “Meaning?”
He rubbed the back of his neck—and immediately regretted it. “Fuck—” Whiplash shot pain down his spine.
Marquise clicked her tongue. “Don’t move like that, idiot.” She steadied his head slightly with her hand as she checked the cut again.
Up close, Jungkook’s jaw was tight. His eyes looked irritated. But not just because of the crash.
“Something happen after she left?” Marquise asked.
“Well she didn’t… She didn’t really leave.” Jungkook’s lips twitched.
“…Then?”
“She stayed. In a way…”
Now Marquise fully stopped cleaning his wound.
“Oh.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Well…that sounds like it went according to plan.”
Jungkook scoffed. “Ya think.”
“So what—you two fought?” she guessed.
“No. I mean… not just fought.”
“Then what?”
Jungkook looked away. That alone made Marquise suspicious. “Jungkook.” He stayed quiet. Her eyes slowly widened. “Oh my god.”
Marquise leaned back a little, staring at him like he’d just admitted he drove the whole race blindfolded.
“Don’t tell me the big bad Racer King lost a race because he was daydreaming about a girl who’s now his girlfriend!” Jungkook shot her a glare that would’ve scared off most people. Marquise wasn’t most people.
“Shut up.”
She leaned back against the car, arms folding loosely over her chest. The metal behind her was still warm from the engine heat, breathing out faint waves of warmth like a tired animal. A slow, entertained smile crept onto her face.
“Wow.” She laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Yoongi is going to love hearing this.”
“That’s the last thing I need right now, Mar,” Jungkook muttered, exhaling hard through his nose. His shoulders sagged like someone had pulled the invisible strings holding him upright.
Marquise grabbed another cotton ball and ripped open a band-aid packet with her teeth. “He wouldn’t take it well,” she hummed. Her fingers slid across Jungkook’s forehead as she pressed the band-aid down carefully. The adhesive stuck with a soft shk sound.
“Definitely not,” Jungkook chuckled quietly. The sting faded slowly, like a storm rolling away across the horizon. His muscles loosened just a little. Marquise moved to the cut on his cheek. The alcohol hit skin again.
“Fuck—”
“Relax,” she said casually. “You’re not dying.”
Jungkook sucked air through his teeth but stayed still.
“I got distracted by my phone mid-race,” he admitted.
Marquise paused. Her eyes lifted slowly. “You were what?”
“It was a message from Y/n,” he said, like that explained everything. His gaze drifted somewhere past Marquise’s shoulder—somewhere soft and distant, where the memory of that message was still glowing like a tiny bonfire in his brain.
“My attention was on it instead of the road.” Marquise stared at him like he’d just confessed to licking a live electrical wire.
“You’re actually stupid.” Jungkook shrugged weakly. “Worth it?” She asked it like a joke. But the question landed in the air between them like a coin spinning on a table—waiting to fall. Jungkook didn’t even blink.
“…Yeah.” No hesitation. No embarrassment. Just a simple, honest yes.
That answer hit Marquise like a shot of tequila. Her grin came back immediately—wide, wicked, delighted. “That’s… disgustingly cute.”
“Shut up.”
“No seriously,” she said, nudging his shin with the tip of her boot. “You crashed into a tower of gasoline cans because your girlfriend texted you.”
“Stop calling her that,” Jungkook muttered. But the corners of his mouth betrayed him. A smile tried to escape. His cheeks tinted faint pink under the grime and dried blood. Marquise caught it immediately.
“Oh?” she smirked, tilting her head. “So she’s… not your girlfriend?”
Jungkook hesitated. Just a fraction of a second. But that half-second silence screamed louder than any confession. She was his, and he was hers.
Marquise’s grin turned smug. “Thought so.”She tossed the used cotton balls back into the open first aid kit and wiped her hands on her jeans.
For a moment the night filled the silence between them. Engines cooling tick-tick-ticked like metal crickets. Somewhere across the lot, the Silver Serpents were still yelling and celebrating around Jimin’s car. Someone cracked open a beer. Someone else laughed like a damn hyena. The whole place smelled like gasoline, smoke, sweat, and burned rubber—the perfume of illegal racing. Marquise looked back at Jungkook. Still scraped up and sore. But calmer now like the storm inside his head had finally exhaled. Her smile softened.
“I’m happy for you,” she said. “You know.” Jungkook looked up at her. That caught him off guard.
“You’re not… jealous?” he asked slowly. “Or mad or some shit?” He squinted slightly at her. “I mean… don’t you girls have some girl code or whatever the fuck?”
Marquise barked out a laugh. “Hell no.” She pressed another band-aid onto the cut on his cheek. “I never loved you, Kook.” Her tone was casual, honest, and clean. “ Not romantically at least. It was just sex.”
“—just sex.” Jungkook snorted. They said it at the same time. Perfectly in sync. And yeah, they both meant it.
Their thing had always been physical—heat without a flame, sparks without a fire. Two bored people crashing into each other for fun, nothing deeper than that. No romance. No drama. Just bodies and bad decisions.
Marquise leaned back again, resting her palms against the edge of the car. “And besides,” she continued, shrugging. “You do things for Y/n that you never did for me.” Jungkook blinked, a little slower this time, like the words needed a second to land through the dull throb in his head. Marquise tilted her chin toward his bandaged face.
“You text her every day,” she said, counting it off like it was obvious. “Drove all the way to her house just to talk. And now you crashed your… damn car thinking about her.” There was no bite in her voice anymore. It softened, eased up, like she wasn’t teasing him now—just stating something real.
“That kind of stupid?” she added quietly. “Only happens when someone’s actually in love.” The words didn’t hit loud. They settled. Heavy. Like something set down between them that neither of them tried to move.
Marquise gave a small shrug, one shoulder lifting, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. “So yeah… I know.”
She glanced toward the dark parking lot, where headlights smeared long streaks across the pavement like spilled paint, colouring the mist that danced among the crowd.
“You really like her.” A pause. “And she likes you too.” Her lips twitched slightly into a subtle smile. “She was just in denial.”
Jungkook looked at her for a moment. Really looked. Even though their history had been messy and chaotic and physical in the dumbest way possible, he still appreciated the hell out of her. Marquise was honest—painfully honest sometimes—but honest.
The corner of his lip lifted. “You’re a good friend, Mar.”
She gave him a small, tired smile. The kind people gave when they didn’t want to admit they actually cared.
“I know.”
Jungkook leaned back against the side of the car trunk, finally letting his body relax. The night air brushed against his face, cool against the fresh bandages. He glanced at her sideways.
“Thanks, nurse.”
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
The airport was loud. A constant hum of rolling luggage, overlapping announcements, and chatter.
Jungkook leaned back in his — or rather — Taehyung’s car, fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the sliding doors. Too many waves of people came through, none of them her. Families, tourists, business suits, crying kids all blending into the gray sea of noise. Not her. Then, the doors slid open again. And there she was.
Camera flashes cut through the humid air like fireflies gone rogue. Fans screamed her name, voices overlapping, hands stretched out in desperation. Security moved like a shield of human barricades, keeping the eager crowd at bay while Y/n weaved through them with the ease of someone born to be seen. Her sunglasses perched on her head, hair perfectly in place despite the wind. She threw waves to the nearest cameras and fans, her gummy smile sharp and practiced.
“Y/n! Over here!”
“Welcome back!”
“Smile for me!”
Jungkook didn’t think. He just pushed the door open, already moving. The second his boots hit the polished floor, the world shrank to the space between them.
Y/n slowed just enough for her team to catch up around her — someone talking about schedules, someone else holding her bag, a bodyguard hovering nearby. It was controlled and practiced. She did it all without breaking stride, professional and effortless, until her gaze found him first. A pillar hid the car just enough so that only she could see. The sleek lines, the color not quite his usual black Porsche, and the subtle dents. But most importantly, she didn’t miss that recognisable figure clad in black.
Her lips curved immediately, a mix of amusement and exasperation. Jungkook’s head was bent slightly, scanning the crowd. Her gaze flicked to Jungkook again then casually—
“I’ll head home myself,” she said, adjusting her sunglasses like it was nothing.
Her manager blinked. “Are you sure? The car’s alre—”
“I’m good,” she cut in lightly. “Just already had other plans. I’ll text when I get back.” There was a short pause, like they wanted to argue. But they didn’t.
“Alright,” the manager nodded. “Rest well.” Y/n gave a small hum of acknowledgment and stepped away before anyone could change their mind.
Y/n gave the crowd one last wave and goodbye with the sweetest voice. Her heels clicked against the pavement towards the hidden car.
Once she got close, she’d finally saw her boyfriend. Without a second thought, she marched straight toward him, smacking his arm hard enough to make him grunt.
“Oi! What was that for!” Jungkook’s hand shot to his arm, ready to bite back, but she didn’t give him the chance.
Her lips crashed onto his before he could say another word. Warm, messy, desperate. One hand tangling at his hoodie, the other having her fingers brushing his cheeks. He groaned softly into the kiss, hands tightening around her like he was anchoring himself.
Before Y/n could let Jungkook melt fully into the kiss, she pulled back, letting their breaths puff into the cool air. She jabbed a finger into his chest, her hands landing softly on the bandaged spots on his cheeks as if inspecting for damage.
“You dumbass!” she snapped, voice a mixture of scolding and relief that rolled over him like a wave he didn’t know he’d been craving. “Did I not deliberately tell you—don’t crash? Why the fuck were you even looking at your phone on the road?” Her brows drew together, sharp and concerned, but her hands lingered on his face, feather-light, almost protective.
“Relax, Y/n. I’m not bleeding out or anything,” he said, smirking. His fingers brushed the pad of her hip in a way that made her heart skip, the casual touch commanding her attention. That smile — the one that always disarmed her — spread across his face.
Y/n huffed, softening but keeping her edge. “Next time you text me mid-race, I swear—I’ll climb into the car myself and drag your dumb ass out.”
He snorted, chest pressing against hers. “And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.” His grin was wide, pearly whites flashing, impossible not to smile back at.
“It’s only been two days,” she said, shaking her head with a small laugh.
“Two excruciating days not seeing you,” he countered, voice teasing but low.
“You see my Instagram,” she shrugged, playful but still mock-scolding.
“Not talking to you,” he shot back.
“We text every day!” Her laugh was light.
“Not touching you,” he whispered this time, leaning close enough that his lips hovered near her ear. She shivered. That familiar zing of electricity crawling up her spine, the same one he triggered in his garage before.
Jungkook’s fingers traced the curve of her waist. His lips followed the line of her ear, pressing gentle, feather-light kisses that made her giggle despite herself.
“ I missed you…” he murmured against her skin, low and intimate.
Y/n’s gaze softened, her playful scolding fading under the warmth of him. Never would she have imagined looking at her brother’s rival like this, her chest fluttering, her mind hazy.
“I… missed you too,” she admitted, voice almost breathless.
Jungkook lifted his head slowly, letting their foreheads almost touch as he held her close.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” she said softly, thumb brushing along his cheek where a band-aid laid.
“Hmm… maybe next time don’t leave?” He whispered back, letting her hands settle on his chest.
For a heartbeat, the world outside — the airport chaos, the flashing cameras, the screams — didn’t exist. It was just them, warm and tangled, finally back in the warmth they wanted to be in.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at her, the smile in his eyes soft but teasing. “So…where to? You wanna eat, sit somewhere, or just… stare at me some more?”
Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at her lips.
“Somewhere we can actually be alone. Make up for…you know, the past two days of me being gone.” Her hands trailed along his arm, eyes trailing along as she leaned closer, voice soft but insistent.
“Hm…” Jungkook tilted his head, pretending to think hard. “Alone, huh? Got a place in mind?”
Y/n’s eyes sparkled, a mix of mischief and affection. “Yours. I mean… I haven’t… even seen where you live yet.”
He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching. “Just a heads up, my place is no place for a…” His eyes raked down her figure, “high-end model who lives in a mansion with butlers and maids.”
She pressed a quick, deliberate peck to his lips and patted his chest.
“Perfect.” Then she hopped into his car like it was a goddamn go-kart. “Let’s go!” she yelled, already adjusting her seatbelt, energy bouncing off the leather interior.
Jungkook leaned his head back, chuckling in disbelief, shaking his head before he followed Y/n into the car and started the engine.
Jungkook found himself sweating. Not the kind that came with speed or adrenaline nor the kind that soaked through his shirt after a race or clung to skin after a long night in bed. This was different. It sat in his palms, made his grip unreliable, made his chest feel… tight.
Nervous.
The word felt foreign in his head. He doesn’t get nervous. Not before races. Not before fights. Not even before sex. So why the hell was bringing Y/n home making his hands act like they didn’t belong to him?
His keys nearly slipped from his fingers as he tried to unlock the door. The metal jingled louder than it should’ve, echoing through the narrow, quiet hallway like it was mocking him. Y/n stood a step behind, taking it in.
The building wasn’t fancy. Not even close. The walls were too plain, the lighting slightly dim, the air carrying that faint, old-building warmth. A little dodgy, maybe. But it was his. And for some reason, that made it feel fine.
After what felt like forever, the lock finally clicked. Jungkook pushed the door open, hesitation threading through his veins. Warm air spilled out immediately wrapping around them, heavy and lived-in. It was nothing like the polished, airy chill of her mansion.
“Welcome to my…” Jungkook paused, eyes flicking around the space like he was seeing it through her eyes for the first time. “…residence.” He stepped aside.
Y/n slipped off her heels at the entrance without being told, placing them neatly beside the door. Another pair added to the small, random collection of shoes already there. Something about that felt… weirdly permanent to Jungkook. Her feet padded softly against the floor as she wandered in.
It was small, yeah. But it wasn’t empty. The space wrapped around her like a quiet hug. The furniture was simple, a little worn in places, but clean. Comfortable. Lived in. There were small things that made it his — a big Hello Kitty soft-toy on the couch, a jacket hanging off the side of a chair, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air like it had seeped into the walls.
It didn’t try to impress. It didn’t need to anyways.
Y/n turned slowly, taking it all in, before her gaze landed back on him. And suddenly, the whole place felt warmer. Jungkook caught her looking. His throat went dry.
“I know it’s… uh” His eyes flicked past her shoulder, scanning his own apartment like he was judging it harder than she ever could. “…small. And kinda…” he huffed a quiet, self-conscious laugh, “…pathetic.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders tightening slightly.
“It’s all I can afford.”
Silence. Too long. It stretched just enough to make something uncomfortable twist in his chest.
“Y/n…?”
“I love it.” Just like that. Simple. Certain.
Jungkook blinked, brows pulling together like he didn’t hear her right. “…What?”
Y/n closed the distance between them without hesitation, her hands coming up to his shoulders. Her fingers pressed in gently, massaging the tension she could literally feel sitting there.
“It’s not pathetic, Kook,” she said softly. Her lashes lifted, eyes meeting his with something warm. Steady. “It’s your home.” Her thumbs brushed along his shoulders, grounding him. “And… because it’s yours,” she smiled, that gummy smile of hers breaking through, soft and a little blinding, “I love it.”
Something in his chest shifted. Not loud nor dramatic. Just settled. Like something restless finally found a place to sit.
Jungkook let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, a small scoff escaping him as he shook his head.
“You’re weird,” he muttered.
Y/n grinned. “You like weird, don’t you?” He looked at her for a second. Then reached out, fingers hooking lightly around her waist, pulling her closer without much thought.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I really do.”
There was a pause. Not awkward at all. Y/n’s gaze softened as she looked up at him, her hands sliding from his shoulders to rest against his chest.
“You really thought I’d walk in here and judge you?” she murmured with an arched brow. Jungkook shrugged one shoulder slightly, eyes dropping for a second.
“Didn’t know,” he said honestly. “I mean… your world’s different from mine.”
“Hmm,” she nodded. “It is.” Her fingers curled slightly into his hoodie. “But I’m here, aren’t I?”
That made him look back at her. Really look. Close enough to see the tiny details. The way her lashes cast shadows against her cheeks, the slight curve of her lips, the softness in her expression that wasn’t for cameras or anyone else, the mole below her eyebrow.
“Hmm,” he hummed quietly. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against her waist, back and forth. Slow. Y/n smiled faintly, stepping just a little closer until there was barely any space left between them.
“Now…” she tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting with something playful again, “are you gonna show me around or just stand here staring at me?”
Jungkook huffed a laugh. “Depends,” he smirked, grip tightening slightly at her waist. “You planning on using your sharp tongue on me?”
Y/n raised a brow. “When have I never?”
“Exactly,” he muttered. Jungkook didn’t let go of her immediately. For a second, he just stood there with his hand still resting at her waist, like he forgot he was supposed to move. Then he cleared his throat lightly and stepped back, scratching the back of his neck.
“Alright,” he sighed, glancing around like he suddenly remembered this place existed. “You wanted a tour, right?”
Y/n perked up instantly, already slipping past him. “Yes. I need to see how the infamous leader of Black Reign lives.”
He scoffed. “You’re about to be very disappointed.”
“Doubt it.”
She wandered ahead like she owned the place, fingertips grazing over surfaces, eyes taking in everything like it actually mattered. Jungkook trailed behind her, hands in his pockets, watching her more than he was watching where she was going.
“Where shall we start?” he asked, leaning slightly against the wall, trying to play it cool.
Y/n didn’t even hesitate. She pointed straight ahead, lips already twitching. “How about this huge Hello Kitty soft toy?”
Jungkook followed her finger and immediately laughed. “Oh my god.”
Y/n was already walking toward it, slow and dramatic like she’d just discovered evidence at a crime scene.
“Jeon Jungkook,” she said, turning back halfway, eyes wide in fake shock. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”
“It’s not mine,” he shot back instantly.
“Mhm.”
“It’s Seoyeon’s,” he corrected, pushing himself off the wall to follow her. “My younger sister—she leaves her stuff here.”
Y/n crouched slightly, pressing the plush’s cheek like she was testing it. “It’s huge.”
“Really—I didn’t notice.” He joked.
She looked back at him, barely holding in her grin. “You sleep with it?”
“Don’t piss me off.”
She laughed, full and unfiltered, the sound filling the apartment like it belonged there.
“Relax, it’s cute,” she teased, giving the plush one last squeeze. “Thank your sister. Adds personality.”
“Yeah, real intimidating,” he muttered.
“You? Intimidating?” she shot back. “Not with Hello Kitty watching over you, you’re not.”
He shook his head, a quiet laugh slipping out despite himself.
After browsing in the compact living room, the surprisingly filled cabinets of the kitchen, and even his irrelevant store room, Y/n was floating towards the room.
“…Alright,” she said, turning around mid-step and walking backwards, eyes locked on him. “What else are you hiding from me?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” he chuckled.
“Mhm. Sure.” She spun on her heel and headed toward the only closed door in the apartment. Jungkook clocked it immediately. Her fingers wrapped around the handle, pausing just for a second like she was giving him a chance to stop her. He didn’t.
“Bedroom?” she asked, glancing back at him, one brow raised.
Jungkook hummed.
She pushed the door open. The room wasn’t big. Same as the rest of the apartment. A bed that looked like it had been half-made and then abandoned, dark sheets slightly creased. A chair in the corner with clothes thrown over it like it had become a second closet. A low hum from the aircon. The faintest trace of his cologne lingering in the air stronger here than anywhere else. It felt private. No shit it was a bedroom. But it was like stepping into something she wasn’t supposed to see yet.
Y/n walked in slower this time. Her fingers brushed along the edge of the dresser. Her eyes scanned the space taking it in piece by piece like she was trying to understand him through it. Jungkook stayed by the door for a second before stepping in behind her watching. Always watching. Y/n turned slightly, glancing at the bed, then back at him. A small smile tugged at her lips.
“So… this is where you bring all your girls?” she asked lightly.
Jungkook scoffed immediately. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just asking.”
“No, you’re not.”
She huffed a quiet laugh, turning away again but her smile lingered. Her gaze drifted, slow and unhurried, until it caught on something.
A frame.
Small. Almost easy to miss if you weren’t looking properly. But she was. Y/n stepped closer, like something quiet and magnetic had hooked onto her and tugged. Her reflection slipped into the glass as she leaned in slightly, her face ghosting over the image beneath it.
What seemed like a younger Jungkook sat high on a man’s shoulders — tiny, almost, compared to the version of him she knew now. His hands clutched a trophy that looked too big, too heavy for him, but he held it like it was the most important thing in the world. His smile — wide, careless, untouched — split across his face like nothing had ever gone wrong for him before. The man beneath him looked just as proud.
Y/n’s fingers hovered just above the frame, not touching. Like she was afraid she might smudge something that mattered.
Behind her, Jungkook moved closer. He stepped right up behind her close enough that the warmth of him bled into her back. Close enough that his breath brushed faintly against her hair.
“That’s my dad,” he said. His voice was quieter than before but not closed off. Y/n didn’t turn. She let him speak.
“That was his first win I actually remember being at,” he continued, eyes fixed on the photo instead of avoiding it. “I was… what, six? Maybe seven.” A small breath left him, barely there, but it carried weight.
“He used to always call me his good luck charm.” The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “Wouldn’t put me down the whole night.” There was no bitterness in it. Just memory softened by time but still intact.
Y/n’s chest tightened in a way that wasn’t painful but filled.
“I see why you love him dearly,” she murmured. This time, Jungkook didn’t go quiet in that defensive way or brush it off with a joke. He stayed there and let it sit.
“Yeah,” he said after a beat. It felt like something he didn’t say out loud often, something he didn’t let people touch. And yet here he was, standing behind her, letting her look at it, letting her know.
Y/n’s eyes shifted slightly, catching the reflection of him. She turned slowly. Jungkook didn’t move an inch. He stayed exactly where he was, eyes already on her like he’d been waiting for her to turn. For a second, neither of them spoke. The air felt different here — quieter, heavier in a way that wasn’t suffocating. Y/n’s lips curved, soft but teasing, like she didn’t want to break it completely but she also wasn’t going to let it get too heavy.
“Well,” she said lightly, tilting her head up at him, “it’s the perfect picture to be framed.” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug.
“You could definitely have more framed pictures of maybe… y’know” her eyes flickered with mischief now, pulling them both back up from that depth just enough, “…me?”
Jungkook blinked. And just like that, the tension cracked. A quiet laugh slipped out of him, softer than his usual ones, like it still carried traces of what he’d just let her see.
“Already planning on decorating my place?” he muttered. Y/n stepped closer — closer than she already was — closing that last bit of space like it didn’t exist.
“Just saying,” she murmured, fingers hooking into the hem of his shirt. “It’d really upgrade the aesthetic.”
Jungkook looked down at her. “Yeah?” he said quietly.
“Yeah.”
Then his hand came up, brushing a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear — slow, deliberate, like he was learning the shape of her face through touch.
“Guess I’ll have to make some space then.”
Y/n smiled. And this time, it didn’t feel like she was stepping into his world. It felt like he was letting her stay.
By the time the sun started dipping, the whole apartment shifted. The light coming through the windows turned warm golden, soft, spilling across the bed in long stretches like it was trying to settle in with them.
Jungkook had one arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped loosely around Y/n, pulling her into his side. Her back rested against his chest, legs tangled with his under the blanket that was barely doing its job. Some movie played on the TV. Something loud. Metallic. Explosions, dramatic music, a guy building a suit. Neither of them were watching.
Y/n’s fingers were busy. They traced slowly along Jungkook’s hand starting at his knuckles where ink sat on his fingers like it belonged there, then dragging up the lines of his forearm. Light, curious, repeating paths like she was memorising him. Jungkook clocked it a while ago. He didn’t stop her, however. Watched her instead of the screen. The way her brows dipped slightly like she was concentrating. Her thumb pressed a little firmer over certain designs like she was trying to feel something under the ink.
“You interested?” he murmured, voice low, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips. Y/n didn’t even look up.
“Mm,” she hummed, tracing the edge of a design near his wrist. “Way more interesting than watching some guy spend two hours building a metal suit.”
Jungkook huffed. “It’s Iron Man.”
“I don’t give a shit if it’s Iron Man or Iron Auntie,” she muttered. “Your arm’s winning.” That pulled a real grin out of him.
His hand shifted on her shoulder, thumb brushing slow, absent circles.
“You like it that much?” he asked, voice softer now.
Y/n finally tilted her head back to look at him, lashes faintly brushing the top of her cheeks, eyes a little too focused for someone just messing around.
“I think I like the person it’s attached to more.”
That landed softly upon Jungkook’s tummy. Just sat there, somewhere under his ribs. His fingers tightened slightly at her shoulder before relaxing again.
“Careful,” he muttered. “You’re starting to sound like you’re in love with me.”
“Pfft—relax,” she scoffed lightly, but there was a smile sitting in it. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
Silence slipped back in. Y/n’s fingers slowed then stopped.
“Oh,” she said suddenly, pushing herself up slightly so she could look at him. “I just remembered,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“What?”
“I’ve got a fashionshow next Wednesday. Big one.” He watched her, listening. “I thought… you’d like to come?” she added, trying to sound casual but not entirely.
“Fuck…” he muttered.
Y/n’s brows pulled together slightly. “W-what?” He looked back at her, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck with a worried smile.
“As much as I’d love to see you all dressed up looking hot as fuck,” he said, lips twitching, “I promised Seoyeon I’d take her out.” He shot her a look of guilt.
“The Hello Kitty boss?”
Jungkook snorted. “Yeah. That one.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s okay,” she said easily. “You should spend time with her.”
He studied her face for a second, like he was double-checking she wasn’t secretly upset.
“You sure?”
Y/n shrugged with a nod. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m not fighting a kid over her brother.” That earned a quiet chuckle from him.
Jungkook’s gaze lingered on her for a beat longer, something softer settling in his expression. Then he leaned in slowly. His hand came up, fingers sliding along her jaw before cupping her cheek as his lips pressed against hers. Warm. Intentional. Not rushed. Y/n melted into it instantly. Her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer.
“Consider that my apology,” he murmured against her lips. She let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.
“Lame apology,” she whispered back. “You can do better than that, racer king.” Her fingers tugged at his dark locks. His eyes flickered.
“Oh yeah? You want better”
“Yeah…” Y/n gazed up past her lashes.
That was enough. The kiss deepened — not messy, not out of control — but heavier, slower. The kind that built instead of exploded.
His hand slid from her face to her waist, pulling her over him until she was half on top of him, bodies lining up like it made sense. Her other hand found his again, fingers slipping between his before drifting back to his wrist, his arm, tracing him like she couldn’t help it. Her feather like touches made Jungkook shudder.
“Keep doing that,” he muttered, breath starting to lose its rhythm, “and I’m banning you from touching me during movies.”
“You weren’t even watching,” she murmured against his lips.
“Was busy watching you, model.”
That made her pause just a second. Then she kissed him again. Softer. Jungkook’s thumb pressed into her waist.
Between the heated make out, his voice dropped, quieter. “She talks about you a lot, you know.” Y/n pulled back slightly, brows lifting.
“Seoyeon?”
“Mm,” he nodded, brushing his nose lightly against hers. “You’re basically her celebrity crush.”
Y/n let out a soft laugh that sent heat waves towards Jungkook’s lips. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah,” he smirked faintly. “Her standards are fucked now.”
“Then we should have dinner with her sometime,” she said, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ll behave… Be charming… Impress her.”
Jungkook huffed. “You? Behave?”
“Shut up,” she nudged him lightly. “You cook. I’ll show up and win her over.”
“Win her over?” he raised a brow.
“Obviously,” she grinned. “I need her approval if I’m gonna keep you.”
Now that made something in his chest tighten. Not in a bad way.
His grip on her waist tightened slightly. “You’ve already got me,” he murmured. Y/n’s smile softened.
“Good.”
And then she kissed him again — slow like she meant it.
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“Stop moving.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
“I literally just blinked, Jin.”
“Yeah, and somehow your whole body followed.”
Y/n huffed, biting back a smile as she tried — actually tried — to stay still this time. Jin circled her, one hand smoothing down the side of her Saint Laurent suit while the other worked a needle through the fabric with precise and practiced movements. Pins tucked between his lips, brow furrowed — not stress, just locked-in focus.
The room around them buzzed. Stylists moving, racks rolling, voices arguing about style or who-knows-what. Expensive chaos. Controlled chaos.
Y/n stared at herself in the mirror. Sharp silhouette, hair pulled back, makeup just right. She looked like she had her shit together. She didn’t feel like it. Her fingers twitched at her side again.
“Y/n,” Jin warned without even looking up.
“I know, I know—fuck, okay, I’m still.” Silence fell between them for a beat. Comfortable. Familiar. Then—
“I’m seeing someone.”
It came out fast. Perhaps a little too fast. As if if she didn’t say it now, she’d chicken out later.
Jin didn’t look up. “Another actor, I presume?” he said casually, still focused on the stitching like this was just another Tuesday.
Y/n let out a short, awkward laugh. “Ah—hah—no, no… it’s…” she hesitated, the word lodged in her throat. “We’re dating now.” That got the slightest shift out of him. Not enough for anyone else in the room to notice. But she did.
“Yeah?” he said, still working, but slower now. “And… who is this poor guy you’ve decided to ruin?”
Y/n rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”
“Just asking.”
She inhaled. Held it. “…Jungkook.”
The needle stopped. Just stopped. Not dropped. Just froze mid-motion like his body needed a second to catch up with what he just heard. Y/n watched him through the mirror. Watched the exact moment it registered.
Jin cleared that small clump of saliva stuck in his throat and slowly pulled the needle through the fabric, finishing the stitch like he needed to complete something before actually reacting. Then he stepped back and looked up. Their eyes met through the mirror. And there it was, that look Jin always had when something didn’t sit right with him. Not anger, not even disappointment. Just a quiet kind of uncertainty. The kind that lingered in his eyes like he was already bracing for something to go wrong.
“You sure about… him?” he asked finally, voice low but sharp enough to slice through her chest.
“Yeah…” she said. “Yeah,” she repeated, almost too quickly, hoping it sounded convincing.
“You’ve been thrown around by your exes, Y/n. Treated like a—a ghost by some of them, like none even saw you. What if he’s the same? D-don’t forget the shit he said to you before.” Jin pointed his finger.
Her stomach dropped. Memory flashed. The words, the betrayal, the sting that never fully went away.
“And he’s your brother’s rival for God’s sake,” Jin continued, voice harder now, a little rawer. “Do you even realize what that means? He’s in the same damn circle, and shit gets messy fast. Fast and ugly.”
Y/n chewed her lip. “He… he has some issues…”
“Issues? Yeah, I can tell, and you’ve got patience of a saint, but you can’t fix him, Y/n. Don’t get me wrong—he’s not bad, he’s not like those… I guess… he’s not like those other assholes—but he’s got a lot of baggage. You’re smart. Don’t blind yourself because he smiles at you, or touches you, or says some cute shit you’ve been dying to hear.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Jin leaned closer, adjusting the hem of her jacket. “I don’t care how happy he makes you feel now, Y/n. I don’t want to see you crushed in the end. You’re too good to be treated like some background character in someone else’s drama. You get me?”
She nodded, swallowing a lump. “I get you. I promise. He’s… different. He stayed. He—he tries. He actually tries. He’s not the other ones.”
Jin studied her reflection, eyes narrowing, still scanning for doubt she didn’t want him to see. “Trying’s—is—is fine,” he muttered, “but don’t let trying be an excuse for bullshit. And if he ever—ever—does anything to hurt you… I will personally—”
Y/n snorted, biting back a laugh. “Yeah, yeah—you’ll rip him to shreds—got it.”
“Damn right I will,” he said. “Don’t think I won’t stand in the way if I have to. He may be your boyfriend, but I’m not gonna watch you get hurt for the sake of love. That’s my job as your best friend.”
Her chest tightened with warmth at his words but also slight reluctance. He cared in a way that wasn’t just friendship but family.
She smiled, letting herself relax a little. “Thanks, Jin. I… really mean it. He’s worth it.”
“Okay,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. “Because if he’s not, I’ll make sure he regrets ever looking at you.”
Y/n laughed softly. “You’re terrifying.”
“Thanks,” he said, finishing the stitching and slipping the pins into a container. “Now, enough boyfriend drama. Focus. Because this suit? Costs more than whatever the hell he drives.”
She shook her head, smiling to herself. Protective, terrifying, loving Jin. Always watching, always caring. And just like that, the news had landed better than she’d feared. Jin’s worry hadn’t turned to anger or judgment. Instead, it was cautious acceptance, the kind that made her heart swell a little. The sharing had gone well.
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The car hummed steadily as Jungkook drove, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against his thigh to whatever song was playing low on the radio. Seoyeon sat beside him, legs swinging since they were still too short to touch the floor of the car, still buzzing from the day.
“That ride was not safe,” she said for the third time, clutching her drink. “Why was it shaking at the start like that? I almost died.”
Jungkook snorted. “You screamed before it even started.”
“I did not!”
“You did—you grabbed my arm and went ‘oppaaaa!’ before the seatbelt even clicked.”
“I was… getting ready!” she shot back, offended.
“Really? Sounded like a dying cat to me.”
“Stop it!” she smacked his arm, trying not to laugh.
He grinned, glancing at her briefly before looking back at the road. This, this was easy. No engines, no tension. Just her.
“You had fun though,” he said.
Seoyeon shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “M…maybe.”
“Liar.”
“Okay fine, I did,” she admitted, smiling. The low hum of the car came filling their ears again with the window displaying the long stretch of road ahead of them.
“Hey,” she said slowly. Jungkook hummed in response as his attention physically stayed on the road. Seoyeon frowned, looking at the dashboard, then the seats, then him. “This isn’t your car.”
Jungkook didn’t even flinch. “It is.”
“No, it’s not,” she said immediately. “The inside looks different. Also—your car smells weird. This one smells clean.”
He scoffed in utter disbelief. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s not yours,” she said, matter-of-fact.
“Where’s your car?”
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “At the garage.”
“Why?”
“Getting fixed.”
“Fixing what?”
“Engine stuff you wouldn’t know or care if I were to explain in detail.”
Seoyeon squinted at him. “That’s not an answer.”
“Well it’s the only one you’re getting,” he muttered. “Deal with it.” She kept staring at him for a second longer, clearly not convinced.
“So… whose is this?”
“Taehyung’s,” he said. “He’s got extras.”
She leaned back slowly. “And your car? I bet you crashed it.” A smug smile appearing on her lips.
“Did not.”
“Did,” she said, nodding to herself. “Or maybe your car got taken away by another car.”
“The word you’re looking for it towed.”Jungkook huffed. “ And no—my car wasn’t towed. Just drink your drink and stop being a busybody.”
“Fine.” She lifted the bottle to her lips again, still suspicious. And right then, the car hit a bump. “—eh—!” The drink spilled straight onto her shirt.
“Ah! Ey—oppa!” she shrieked, pulling the bottle away. “My shirt—ugh!”
Jungkook burst out laughing. “Watch what you’re doing, Yoyo.”
“You’re the one who hit the bump!” she snapped, looking down at the wet patch. “Why would you do that?!”
“Yeah, I planned it,” he said sarcastically. “Relax. There’s tissues in the glove box.”
“What’s a glove box—?”
“In front of you. Open it.”
She huffed and reached forward, popping it open. Stuff shifted around as her small hands buried itself in the sand of belongings. Receipts. Wrappers. A pen. Jungkook’s yellow-tinted sunglasses. She rummaged through it, muttering, “Why is your car so messy…”
“Don’t touch my stuff.”
“I’m only—”Her fingers paused.
Jungkook barely glanced over. “Found it?”
Seoyeon slowly pulled something out. Small, compact, and rectangular.
“Oppa… Why do you have lip gloss?”
Jungkook’s eyes flicked over for half a second — and yeah. There it was. The lipgloss that read ‘Dior’ that unmistakably was the property of Min Y/n.
He knew it. Of course he did. He remembered her voice clear as day — “I always forget to bring my lip gloss when I go out.” — and he had proposed to leave her lipgloss in his car so she’d always have it. And she did.
“It’s not mine,” he said, turning back to the road.
“Obviously” Seoyeon muttered, inspecting it. “Why would it be yours? Boys don’t wear lipgloss.” She flipped it over.
“Di… or?” Her tone changed. “Isn’t that that expensive shop?” Jungkook felt himself stiffen and throat go dry. “Why do you have Dior?” she asked slowly.
“I dunno,” he mumbled, a little too quick.
“It’s in your car.”
“I said it’s Taehyung’s car.”
“But you’re using it now. So whose is it?” she pressed, turning toward him.
Jungkook exhaled. “Someone left it.”
“Who?”
“No one.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Hah—again, it’s the one you’re gonna get.”
She stared at him. Then at the lip gloss. Then back at him. Her brain was working overtime.
“Mom told me before this shop is costs like billions of dollars. You don’t even have that much money to buy Dior,” she said bluntly.
Jungkook scoffed. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying,” she shrugged. “You wouldn’t buy this.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then?” Seoyeon dipped her brows where they clashed, shaking her head like that was going to get a real answer out from her brother.
A pause. Then, her eyes widened. Her brain had stringed the pieces together regardless of only being nine years old.
“You have a girl.”
Jungkook blinked. “Wha—no.” He countered. “Where did you even get that?”
“Yeah, you do,” she said immediately, pointing the lip gloss at him. “You have a secret girl!”
“I don’t have a secret anything.” Jungkook kept his gaze on the road and hands on the wheel.
“You do,” she insisted, leaning closer. “Wait—” She froze. “That time we had ice cream...”
Jungkook’s jaw ticked.
Shit.
“You talked about a—a girl,” she continued, eyes lighting up like she just solved a mystery. “You said you liked someone!”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did!” she argued. “Oppa—stop being annoying! You were being all weird and quiet and then you said there was someone!”
Jungkook ran a hand through his hair and released a sigh, “you remember too much...”
“I remember everything,” she said proudly. Then squinted at him. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
He stayed quiet. It unfortunately was the worst move Jungkook could do. Seoyeon gasped.
“Oh my god—it is!”
“Seoyeon—”
“You have a girlfriend! You have a girlfriend!” she teased in a song, way too excited. Her fingers pointing at Jungkook like a little dance, poking the air towards him.
“I don’t,” he said, but there was zero conviction. His smiling eyes were no help, contradicting his response.
“You do,” she nodded, fully convinced now. “You are lying—and you’re bad at lying.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” She gave a single nod that basically was a final confirmation.
He sighed, jaw tightening slightly. “It’s just someone,” he muttered. “It’s none your business, Yoyo.”
“That’s suspicious,” she shot back immediately.
Jungkook scoffed, ridiculed. “It’s not suspicious.”
“It is! You never have ‘just someone.’ You don’t even have friends you like that much.”
“Wow. Thanks. Wonder who’s Taehyung and Namjoon...”
“I’m not kidding!” she said. “You don’t let people in.”
That hit.
Jungkook finally glanced at her and yeah, she wasn’t joking anymore. No smug grin, no teasing spark. Just looking at him. Really looking. It caught him a little off guard like she’d somehow peeled away something he usually kept locked up tight. He blinked, throat tightening just enough to annoy him. He cleared it quickly, like that would fix anything, and turned his eyes back to the road. The streetlights blurred past in streaks, giving him something else to focus on, anything but her gaze.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even know what the hell he could say. And honestly? He didn’t want to go there. Not with her. The kind of conversation she was nudging at, it wasn’t light or easy. It was obviously a sensitive topic for him, asking for honesty he doesn’t give easily. So he stayed quiet, gripping the wheel a little tighter, letting the silence take over instead of risking saying something real.
“Well, is she… nice?” she asked, softer, as if she could radiate Jungkook’s discomfort.
An unnecessary pause.
“Yeah,” he said. Soft. Honest. “You’d like her.” Seoyeon’s expression softened just a little when Jungkook shot her a look.
“Does she know you’re annoying?”
Jungkook snorted at that as his head fell. “You could say that.”
“Okay good,” she nodded. “Then she’s real.”
He shook his head, a small smile slipping through despite himself.
The car slowed as they pulled into the driveway of a high-rise building Jungkook was familiar with. The engine quietened down when Jungkook twisted the keys. For a second, neither of them moved. Seoyeon held the lip gloss out to him.
“Give it back to her,” she said.
Jungkook took it, fingers brushing over it briefly. “Yeah yeah…”
She opened the door, then paused. “Don’t mess it up,” she added, looking back at him. Jungkook was already gazing back, arm on the small space of the console between them. A corner of his lips tweaked. He reached out and ruffled Seoyeon’s hair.
“I won’t…”
Seoyeon gave a subtle smile. Then she hopped out like she didn’t just drop something heavy on him.
Jungkook stayed there for a moment. The lip gloss sitting in his palm. Small. But somehow feeling like it meant everything. He quickly shoved it into his jean pocket and followed Seoyeon out of the car.
The apartment door wasn’t far from the lift — maybe ten steps at most — but the walk there felt longer than it should’ve. Jungkook’s boots landed heavy against the carpeted floor, each step dull and quiet, while Seoyeon’s lighter ones padded ahead of him, quick and restless. The faint rustle of his bomber jacket filled the silence in between, the only thing keeping the hallway from feeling too still and too tense.
Seoyeon reached the door first, already on her tiptoes, fingers stretching for the bell. Jungkook was still a few steps behind, slower, like something in him was dragging its feet on purpose. The chime echoed softly. Then the door clicked open.
“Mom, I’m home!” Seoyeon beamed, immediately stepping forward, her whole face lighting up as she threw herself into her mother’s arms.
Her mother let out a soft breath — relief, warmth, something that looked genuine — as she wrapped her arms around her daughter and held her close. Jungkook stood there still, watching. As if he wasn’t part of the picture.
Then, her head lifted for her eyes landed on him.
“Jungkook-ah…”
His jaw tightened almost immediately.
“I’m just here to drop Seoyeon off,” he said flatly, shifting his weight, hands buried deep in his pockets like he needed something to hold onto.
“Then I’m leaving.” His voice didn’t rise or crack. But it was closed off — clean, sharp like a door already shut.
His mother tilted her head slightly, something flickering across her face. Guilt, maybe? Or something that looked like it. Either one, Jungkook didn’t trust it.
“Jungkook-ah…” her voice softened, careful. “Just come in for dinner. I cooked your favourite. G-gochujang stew.” There was a small smile on her lips — fragile, almost hopeful — but it didn’t sit right with him. It felt rehearsed. Like she’d worn that expression too many times before.
Seoyeon turned too, still tucked under their mother’s hands, looking up at him with those same wide eyes.
“Please, oppa…”
And there it was. The one thing that made this harder than it needed to be.
Jungkook’s gaze dropped to her, his chest tightening just slightly. He hated that she was part of this. Hated that she didn’t even realise she was being used as the bridge he kept refusing to cross.
“You’ve been avoiding us for too long, Jungkook-ah,” his mother continued, voice quieter now. “I miss you. I—I know it’s not… easy to accept what happened to your fath—”
“No—see—this is why I hate being around you.” It snapped out of him before he could stop it. His hands that were stuffed in his pockets moved as well. His hands curled into fists inside his pockets, nails digging into his palms as his shoulders squared up, tension rising like heat under his skin.
“You always—always—bring him up,” he continued, voice tighter now, frustration bleeding through. “I’m trying to forget, okay? I’m trying to move on, but you won’t let me.” His words came out harsher than he planned, but he didn’t take them back. He couldn’t. His mother’s expression broke slightly.
“Jungkook—you can’t just… forget him like he was nothing!” her voice shook, cracking at the edges. “He’s your father!”
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over too quickly, like they’d been waiting there for a while. Her hands trembled slightly where they rested on Seoyeon’s shoulders.
Jungkook’s chest rose and fell heavier now. Because the worst part? She wasn’t wrong. And he knew it. But knowing didn’t make it easier. Didn’t make it hurt less.
“Then where is he, Mom…?” His voice dropped, now unsteady. His vision blurred as tears gathered, the hallway lights turning hazy around the edges. He blinked hard, but they slipped out anyway, trailing down his cheeks before he could stop them.
“Where… were you?” he asked, voice tightening, breaking just ever so slightly. He pointed downward, finger trembling — not at her or anything specific. Just… somewhere. Anywhere.
“Where were you… when he was gone?”
His mother’s breath hitched, a broken sound escaping her lips as her hand flew up to cover her mouth, like she could physically hold the grief in.
“I needed you,” Jungkook said, louder now. His rawness and hurt was obvious. Years of it, packed into one sentence. His throat burned, chest tight like something was clawing its way out of him, something he’d buried too deep for too long.
“So how…” he swallowed hard, voice shaking now, “how do you expect me to be okay with him being gone… when you weren’t even there when I needed you?”
Silence fell. Heavy and suffocating. The kind that pressed into your ears until it rang, giving the discomfort.
His mother cried quietly now, shoulders shaking, her hand still covering her mouth like she was afraid of how loud it might get if she let go.
Seoyeon stood between them, not daring to even move a pinky. Confused. She was caught in something she didn’t fully understand but could feel anyway.
And Jungkook? Jungkook just stood there, breathing hard, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a race he didn’t sign up for.
He hated this. Hated how it made him feel. Hated that no matter how far he ran, it always caught up to him anyway.
Jungkook dragged a hand through his hair, rough, like he was trying to wipe the whole conversation off his body. His chest still felt tight like the air in the hallway wasn’t enough. For a second — just a second — his eyes dropped to Seoyeon again.
Her fingers were still curled lightly into their mother’s sleeve, but her eyes were on him. Wide. Quiet. Processing. And fuck — that almost made him stay. Nearly made him step forward, sigh, rub the back of his neck and go, fine… just dinner… just tonight…
But then, he looked up at his mother. At the tears. At the same conversation that never fucking changed. And something in him just…closed. Jungkook let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly.
“I didn’t come here for this.” His voice was quieter now. “I just came to drop her off.”
“Jungkook—” his mother stepped forward slightly.
He stepped back just as fast. That small movement said more than anything else could’ve. A line drawn.
“I’m not ready,” he said, more to the space than directly to her. His jaw tightened. “And you don’t get to decide when I should be.”
His mother’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Because what could she say to that?
Seoyeon’s grip tightened slightly on her sleeve.
“Oppa,” she called softly. That one word hit differently. Always did.
Jungkook looked at her again, and this time, he forced a small smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was there. For her and only her.
“Go inside, yeah?” he said, gentler now. “It’s getting late.”
She hesitated. “Are you gonna come next time?”
There it was. Hope.
Jungkook’s throat tightened. He didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t at least. He knew his true answer would’ve disappointed her.
“Next time,” he said finally. The word he abuses the shit out of.
Seoyeon nodded slowly, like she understood more than she should. “Okay...”
Jungkook reached out, ruffling her hair lightly — his usual move, muscle memory at this point. A small, familiar gesture in the middle of something that felt anything but. Then he pulled his hand back and stepped away.
His mother said his name again. Softer this time. “Jungkook…”
He paused. Just for a second. Back still facing them. You could almost feel the war in him — stay or go, look back or don’t, say something or shut the hell up. In the end, he didn’t turn around.
“Stop using him every time you want me to come back,” he muttered, low and tired. Not angry anymore. Then he walked. Boots heavy against the carpet again, each step quicker than before like he needed distance now before something in him cracked open too far.
The hallway swallowed him up. And just like that, he was gone.
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
Jungkook sat on the couch with Y/n tucked close to his side, his arm draped over her shoulders like it had just ended up there without much thought. His fingers were loosely intertwined with hers, absentmindedly fidgeting, brushing, tracing. It wasn’t intentional, not really. Just something his body did when she was near. She fit against him easily like she’d been made to stay there next to him.
“So…” Y/n spoke after a while, her voice softer in the quiet, but still carrying that familiar teasing edge. “I’m guessing the night went well then?”
Jungkook let out a quiet breath, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand unconsciously. His gaze stayed forward, unfocused.
“You could… say that,” he muttered. “Wasn’t exactly peaceful, but… yeah.”
Y/n tilted her head slightly, studying him from where she rested against him. She could feel it — the tension still sitting in his body, the way his arm around her wasn’t as relaxed as it usually was after she’d asked.
“Kook…” she said gently.
He hummed in response, low, almost distracted. She shifted then, pulling away from his side just enough to turn. Her whole body angled toward him, legs tucked under slightly as she faced him properly now. His arm slipped off her shoulders in the process, and for a split second, he missed the warmth before he adjusted, resting his hand on his thigh instead.
“You promised you wouldn’t avoid me,” she said, her tone still soft but firmer now, grounding. “And that doesn’t just mean disappearing… physically. It also means when something’s going on up here—” she tapped lightly at his temple, “—you don’t just deal with it alone.”
Jungkook huffed quietly, the corner of his lips twitching. “Bossy,” he murmured.
“I’m serious,” she said, nudging his knee with hers. “You don’t get to fall for me and then shut me out when things get messy. That’s not how this works.”
That hit harder than he expected.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah… I remember,” he said, quieter.
“Mhm.” She held his gaze. “So tell me. What happened?”
Jungkook looked at her for a second, then away again, jaw tightening slightly as he leaned back into the couch.
“I…” He paused, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, his fingers tapping once against his thigh.
God, he wasn’t used to this shit.
“My mom… tried to get me to stay for dinner,” he said finally. “Kept insisting. I… didn’t.”
Y/n’s expression softened. “Can I ask why?” she said gently. “Or is that one of those things you’re still figuring out how to say?”
He let out a breath. She leaned a little closer, her hand naturally finding his again where it rested on his thigh, her fingers slipping between his. Jungkooks eyes dropped to their hands for a second.
“Jungkook—if you’re not comfortable yet, you do—”
“My mom was a drunk.”
The words came out blunt, flat.
Y/n didn’t react immediately. Not a flinch, no rushed sympathy. She just listened, her thumb slowly brushing over his knuckles. And that made it easier.
“When my dad… died,” he continued, voice lower now, “she… wasn’t exactly there. Not in the way I needed her to be.” He shifted slightly, shoulders tensing before relaxing again.
“She’d come home late. Sometimes not at all. Always smelling like alcohol, barely making sense… asking me where my dad was like I could just fucking fix it for her.”
Y/n’s fingers tightened slightly around his.
“She was pregnant with Seoyeon back then. I was nineteen,” he went on. “Tried to get her to stop drinking. She wouldn’t listen. I’d take the bottles, she’d go out and get more. Different day, same bullshit” His jaw clenched briefly before loosening again.
“She’d cry and ask for him over and over again,” he added, quieter now. “And I’d just stand there like an idiot, not knowing what the hell I was supposed to do.”
Y/n’s chest tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I got tired,” he said, letting out a breath. “Not even angry. Just… fucking exhausted.” His voice nearly cracked. “After Seoyeon was born and I turned twenty, I left. Stayed with Namjoon for a bit, then got my own place. That was it.”
A small pause.
“I still go back sometimes,” he added. “But only for Seoyeon.”
Y/n nodded slightly, her thumb still moving gently against his skin which Jungkook found comforting, thank goodness.
“I couldn’t let her grow up thinking she had no one,” he said. “Not knowing her dad already is bad enough. I didn’t want her thinking her brother disappeared too.”
Silence settled between them, softer this time.
“You know that makes you a really good brother, right?” she said.
Jungkook huffed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I try.”
“No,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “You do more than that. You show up. Even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it hurts—you still go back for her. That’s what matters.”
He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped again, something in his chest tightening and loosening at the same time.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
Y/n shifted closer without thinking, fingers resting on his cheek gently. Her touch was warm and grounding, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin.
“And I’m really proud of you,” she added softly.
Jungkook blinked, caught off guard. His brows pulled together slightly.
“For what?”
“For not shutting me out just now,” she said. “For actually telling me instead of… brushing it off with some dumb excuse. That’s huge for you, Kook.”
A small smile crept onto his face, slow and real.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Hyping me up for doing the bare minimum.”
“Uh, excuse you,” she scoffed lightly. “For you, that’s not bare minimum. That’s character development.”
He snorted quietly, shaking his head. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
That pulled a soft laugh out of him, the tension in his shoulders easing, his chest finally feeling like it wasn’t packed so tight. And somewhere in that moment, things shifted.
They were close already, but now it felt different. His gaze lingered on her a second longer than it should have. Her hand was still on his cheek. Their faces too close. Jungkook’s eyes flicked down to her lips before returning to her eyes slowly. His hand moved almost on instinct, sliding from his thigh back to her waist where his fingers curved slightly as he pulled her closer into him again like he didn’t want that distance from earlier.
“Y/n…” he murmured, voice quieter now, rough around the edges.
She didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned in just a little more. She was intrigued. Their noses nearly brushed. He swallowed, searching her face like he needed permission even though the way she was looking at him already gave it.
“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” he said softly with an almost unbelievable huff while pushing back the fronts of her hair behind her ear.
Y/n’s expression softened instantly, something warm blooming wide in her chest. She felt as though an infection was spreading gradually. Her hand slid from his cheek to the back of his neck. Her fingers feeling warmth.
“You let me in,” she whispered. “That’s enough.”
And that was it. Jungkook closed the distance. The kiss was soft, careful, like he was still figuring out how to hold something this gentle without breaking it. Jungkook’s lips moved slowly against hers. It was far more loving from their first kiss with the sync of their lips puckering against one another.
Y/n melted into it. Almost immediately actually. Her hand tightened slightly at the back of his neck as she leaned closer, her body fitting against his again. Jungkook’s back softly hit the couch. His grip on her waist tightened, just a little, pulling her flush against him. His hands, always so sure when wrapped around a steering wheel, the feeling felt almost similar when sliding up her sides, fingertips tracing the dip of her waist like he was mapping her. The kiss deepened naturally, unhurried but heavier now, carrying everything Jungkook didn’t know how to say out loud. And for the first time that night, his head was quiet.
The kiss didn’t break. It was a mere shift. What started soft and careful intensified. Their lips brushing again and again like neither of them really wanted to be the one to pull away.
Y/n felt his breath hitch when she swung her leg over him, settling into the heat between his thighs. Her knees pressed into the worn cushion beside his thigh. The couch groaned under them, the sound muffled against the mix of Jungkook’s quiet exhale and lip smacking sounds. Jungkook’s thumb pressed lightly into her waist as he tilted his head just slightly, deepening it without rushing and making Y/n let out a quiet breath into his mouth. Their noses bumped faintly, a small, clumsy thing that made the moment feel even more real. His palms smoothed up her back, fingertips pressing into the notches of her spine before drifting lower. The moment his hands cupped her ass, squeezing just enough to pull a gasp from her.
“Shit—Kook,” she sighed, hot.
Jungkook laughed — a soft, breathless sound that vibrated against her mouth.
“My bad,” he murmured, lips grazing hers as he spoke. “You just—mhm” He didn’t finish, just let his words melt into Y/n’s lips when his found hers again.
“You’re slowly making me go crazy, Y/n…” Jungkook whispered. Then, a quick peck before Y/n parted their lips again on his.
"Take me to your bedroom," Y/n whispered against his mouth, the words barely audible, more breath than sound.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to watch her face — her pupils blown wide, lips swollen from his kisses — but there was that flicker of hesitation in his grip, the way his fingers flexed against her hips like he was holding himself back.
This was rare. For him at least.
"You sure?" he asked, voice rough, thumb brushing the curve of her waistband like he was trying to assure her that speed wasn’t what he needed now. Only her.
"Fuck—yes, I'm sure," she murmured all breathy, and that was all it took.
His arms locked around her thighs as he stood in one fluid motion, her legs wrapping around his waist like she'd done it a thousand times before. A soft giggle slipping from her swollen lips. The couch creaked in the process as he stepped away, but neither of them noticed, now again too busy chasing each other's mouths like they were drowning in the taste of one another.
Jungkook's bedroom was dim, the only light slipping in from the half-closed blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets as he carelessly kicked the door shut behind them. He laid her down gently — something that was uncommon for him. Girls loved it when he’d push them down or throw their small figures while he towers.
No. Jungkook didn’t want to treat Y/n like that. His big hands were there, bracing Y/n’s back and thigh like she was a porcelain doll that could shatter easily. Y/n felt her plush thighs sinking into the cushy mattress while still having the warmth of her lovers’ lips on hers. Jungkook pulled back slightly. He gazed into her eyes with pure concern and was it… love?
"Still good?" he asked, and god, the way his voice sounded hot on those two words nearly undid her.
Y/n reached up to curl her fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss. Her lips twitched upward.
"Stop thinking so much," she breathed, dipping her brows toward her nose and not breaking eye contact. “Thought you’d be more confident considering hooking up is your specialty.” She giggled.
Jungkook rolled his eyes so hard she could practically hear it, but before she could tease him further, he shut her up by carrying her further onto the bed and then plummeted a kiss — messy at first, all teeth and breathless laughter, then deeper when his tongue slid against hers in a slow, deliberate drag that made her toes curl and legs brushing his sides.
“Confidence isn’t the fucking issue,” he muttered against her mouth before trailing his lips down her chin and towards exposed shoulder, teeth grazing skin just hard enough to pull a gasp from her.
“It’s you.” His voice was wrecked, like the admission had been dragged out of him.
“You’re…” He didn’t finish, just pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of her throat, his breath hot and unsteady against her pulse.
Y/n arched into him. “I’m what?” she challenged, breathless.
Jungkook laughed, a low, rough sound. “A goddamn distraction.”
His hands slid under her top, palms skating up her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts in a way that made her shudder. His lips started nipping at her collarbone.
“Always fucking thinking about you when I should be focused on the road.”
She’d expected slick arrogance — something practiced or easy. Not this raw, clumsy honesty. It made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t name, like her ribs were too tight for her heart.
Jungkook's fingers hesitated before they curled into the hem of her black off-the-shoulder top. His knuckles brushing against the warm skin of her stomach as he peeled it up slowly. So slow, she could feel the fabric drag against her ribs, her waist, and the swell of her clothed breasts before finally slipping over her head. The heaving of Y/n’s chest was now more intense and obvious. Just the curve of her cleavage could’ve genuinely cause Jungkook to lose his balance atop of her. His hot breath ragged.
"Tell me," he murmured, "if you want me to stop."
The admission hung between them—uncharacteristically cautious for someone who'd built a reputation on not caring. Y/n traced the tense line of his jaw, the way his teeth clenched like he was holding himself back by sheer willpower alone.
"No…” she whispered, eyes pouring into his. Jungkook gulped. “Don’t stop.”
Y/n smashed her lips onto Jungkook’s while she reached back, arching a little to unclasp her black, strapless, satin bra before throwing it behind Jungkook to which he didn’t bother to watch it being discarded. He had his attention on something else now.
Without taking her eyes off his face, she guided his hands higher until his palms cupped her bare breasts. Jungkook’s gaze followed the entire way up. His thumbs circling her nipples in slow, maddening strokes as his fingers regained its memory of kneading a woman’s breast.
“Holy—fuuck…” His hips jerked against hers involuntarily. His eyes found hers again.
“Touch me however you want… I’m yours.”
Her claim got the man grinning like an idiot.
Now with his usual confidence and natural instincts kicking back in, his head dived down to one of Y/n’s boobs, sucking the nipple as the cold metal of his piercing sent chills down Y/n spine. His inked hand cups the other side and played with it like a stress ball. His thumb flickering its tip from time to time. Y/n’s fingers clamped strands of his messy hair. Her head tilts back as a low moan came out of her.
“Fuck, baby. Love these perky tits.” He groaned while squishing them. Another moan slipping from Y/n’s lips.
Jungkook’s mouth was quick to move to the other side and repeated the same thing. Y/n’s nipples were now all glistening with saliva and red from Jungkook’s harsh tugging.
As much as Jungkook enjoyed Y/n’s breasts, there was more waiting.
“Take your pants off,” he commanded. Y/n followed, her fingers already unfastening the button of her jeans and tugging them down before kicking it off her feet.
Jungkook slowly pushed himself off of her, eyes not leaving hers. By the time Y/n’s bottoms were off, she was in time to see Jungkook reaching back to pull his sweater off over his head.
Holy shit did he look like he was built by the bare hands of a greek god. His chiselled but subtle abs looked like they were permanent dents. Y/n was desperate to rake her hands down them and maybe — no — definitely lick them.
As if Jungkook could read Y/n’s mind, he crawled back on top of her and took her hand towards his intricate abs and let them drag downwards. She could feel the lines and muscles that felt more like stone beneath her palm. A breathy laugh came out from her.
“Like’em?”
“Fucking obsessed,” she whispered shaking her head, ridiculed.
His mouth found its way back to hers. Meanwhile, his fingers got busy with his own jeans. They couldn’t see it, but the sounds of buttons popping and fabric moving was enough to know that Jungkook and Y/n were left in their underwear. Jungkook immediately attended to Y/n’s underwear, tugging them down. When the fabric finally gave way, Jungkook exhaled, his gaze dragging down her body with something akin to reverence.
"Christ," he breathed, fingertips skating over the dip of her navel, the sharp jut of her hipbones.
"You're fucking unreal." The words weren't practiced flirtation, they tumbled out rough. Y/n arched into his touch, chasing the heat of his palms as they mapped her thighs.
He didn't rush. Every brush of his lips was deliberate. The way he nipped down her inner thigh before soothing it with his tongue, the agonizingly slow drag of his teeth along her sensitive skin. When his mouth finally found her in between her legs, wet and hot and devastatingly patient, Y/n's back bowed off the mattress with a choked cry. Jungkook chuckled against her, the vibration shooting straight to her core.
"Easy," he murmured, hands splaying across her hips to pin her down. "I got you."
Jungkook’s mouth was unhurried, his tongue tracing patterns that made her thighs tremble, his hands anchoring her hips to the mattress with a grip just shy of bruising. There was nothing rushed about the way he tasted her. No hurried, practiced motions like she’d expected from someone with his reputation. Instead, he lingered, as if savouring and memorizing the way she gasped when he sucked just right. The way her fingers twisted in his hair when he dragged his teeth lightly over her skin. It was maddening but it was also perfect. His breaths were uneven against her skin, his shoulders tense like he was holding himself back from devouring her whole.
“Jungkook…” When she whimpered his name, his grip tightened, a ragged groan vibrating through him as if her pleasure was something sacred, something worth worshiping.
The moment Jungkook's tongue dragged slow and deliberate over her clit, Y/n's vision blurred white at the edges.
“Kook—aggh!” His name tore from her throat, raw and shattered, as he curled two fingers inside her with a twist that had her thighs clamping around his head.
He didn't stop — couldn't stop — not when she arched into him with a whimper that sounded more like a plea than anything else. The wet heat of his mouth was relentless, each flick of his tongue sending sparks up her spine until she was trembling, her fingers twisted so tight in his hair it had to hurt. He groaned against her like he loved it.
"Fuck—Jungkook—" Her voice broke on a gasp when he sucked just right, the pressure building so fast she couldn't think or breathe.
His fingers crooked deeper, stroking that spot inside her with a precision that felt criminal, and she swore she saw stars.
"I can't—I'm gonna—" The words dissolved into a moan so loud, she barely recognized her own voice.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to smirk up at her, his lips glistening, his pupils blown black with want.
"Yeah?" he murmured, voice rough, breath hot against her skin.
"Then cum for me." And then his mouth was on her again, lips sealing over her clit as his fingers pumped faster and harder.
She shattered. The orgasm ripped through her like a live wire, her back bowing off the bed as she cried out, her thighs shaking around his shoulders. Jungkook didn't let up, drawing out every last second of it until she was wrung out, her chest heaving. Only then did he finally lift his head, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh since he couldn't bear to pull away completely.
Jungkook didn’t move, just stayed there, kneeling between her thighs with his lips still pressed to her skin, his breaths hot and uneven. Y/n’s chest rose and fell in small gasps, her fingers slackening in his hair but not letting go. His tongue dragged one last slow, lazy stroke up her slit, and she whimpered, oversensitive but still arching into him, still wanting.
"Ngmhm," Jungkook hummed against her, his voice rough with amusement and something darker, something hungry. He kissed her inner thigh again, then higher, his lips trailing up to the crease of her hipbone.
"You gonna let me take my time with you, or are you gonna rush me?"
Y/n huffed a laugh, breathless and wrecked. "Says the guy who races for a living."
Jungkook grinned, all sharp edges and sinful intent, before dipping his head back between her legs. This time, he didn’t tease. Just licked into her with a groan that vibrated against her skin. Jungkook’s tongue was a sin all its own — broad and hot and relentless, lapping at her like he had all the time in the world. Y/n’s head thudded back against the pillow, her thighs trembling as his mouth worked her open, slow and filthy and relentless. Every flick of his tongue and every suck at her clit had her gasping his name like a prayer. He didn’t stop. Didn’t rush. Just hummed against her, the vibration making her gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets as he took her apart like he knew every inch of her body better than she did.
"God—Kook," she moaned, voice cracking as his lips sealed around her clit, sucking just hard enough to make her thighs shake. His fingers, still slick from inside her, traced lazy circles on her hip, teasing, possessive. Like he wanted her to feel every second of this, to remember exactly who was ruining her.
"That’s it," he murmured, breath hot against her inner thigh before dragging his mouth back up, tongue flattening against her in one slow, filthy stroke. "Let me hear you."
She did. Loudly. Her moans spilled unchecked, ragged and broken as he worked her toward the edge again, his lips and tongue and fingers all moving in perfect, devastating rhythm. Every suck, every twist of his fingers inside her was calculated, like he’d mapped out every way to wreck her and was determined to try them all.
Jungkook’s tongue traced slow, deliberate circles around her clit, the pressure just shy of unbearable, and Y/n’s fingers clenched in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against her. The sound vibrated through her, sending another wave of pleasure crashing up her spine. She gasped, thighs trembling as he sucked lightly, then harder, alternating until she was writhing beneath him, her breaths coming in ragged pants.
"Fuck—Jungkook!" Her voice broke on a moan as he slid two fingers back inside her, curling them just right, hitting that spot that made her vision blur. His lips sealed around her clit again, sucking in time with the thrust of his fingers, and she arched off the bed with a cry, her hips lifting helplessly into his mouth. He didn’t let up, didn’t give her a second to recover, just kept driving her higher.
She could feel him watching her, his dark eyes flicking up to catch every twitch of her expression, every gasp that spilled from her lips. There was something unbearably intimate in the way he studied her, like he was memorizing the way she fell apart just for him. When her thighs started shaking uncontrollably, he eased off slightly, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh before dragging his tongue back up in one long, slow stroke.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with arousal, his breath hot against her skin. "So fucking perfect like this." His fingers curled deeper, and she whined, oversensitive but still craving more, still arching into his touch. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver through her.
“Argh—love it when you fall apart like this for me.” Jungkook growled huskily.
Y/n’s fingers tightened in Jungkook’s hair, tugging him up before he could tease her further. His lips were slick with her, his breathing ragged, and she didn’t give him a second to protest just crushed her mouth to his, tasting herself on his tongue. He hummed into the kiss, his body shuddering as her free hand slid down his chest, fingertips tracing the hard lines of his abs before dipping lower, brushing the strained fabric of his jeans.
Jungkook whimpered against her lips — a broken, breathless sound that sent heat spiraling through her. His hips jerked forward instinctively, chasing the friction of her touch, and she could feel the way his entire body tensed like he was barely holding himself together. She palmed him through his pants, feeling the thick length of him straining against the denim, and he shuddered, his kiss turning messy, desperate. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between them.
“Fuck,” he gasped when she flicked open the button of his jeans, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. His cock jumped in her hand, hot and heavy, and his forehead dropped to hers as she stroked him once, slow and teasing.
“Y/n—a—ahh..” His voice cracked, his breath coming in ragged bursts and she could feel the way his thighs trembled, the way his entire body tensed under her touch.
She kissed him again, swallowing his moans. Her thumb swiping over the slick head of him before she tightened her grip just slightly, twisting her wrist on the upstroke the way she knew would make him unravel. Jungkook’s hips stuttered, his fingers tightening on her skin hard enough to leave marks. He broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, his forehead pressing against hers as his breath came in short, uneven pants.
With one fluid motion, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and shoved them down, kicking them off somewhere behind him.
The air between them crackled, thick with anticipation, as her fingers finally wrapped around him fully, skin to skin. He was hot and heavy in her palm, his pulse thudding visibly beneath her touch. Jungkook’s breath hitched, his lashes fluttering as he bit down on a groan, his hips twitching forward again.
“Ahh shit,” he breathed as her thumb swiped over the head of him, smearing the slickness there. His fingers tightened on her waist, nails digging into her skin.
His mouth crashed back into hers, messy and desperate, but then — just as suddenly — he pulled back, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently before releasing it. His eyes, dark and liquid with want, locked onto hers, unblinking. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, her grip tightening reflexively around him.
Jungkook pulled away from her grip reluctantly, his fingers trailing down her thigh as he leaned over the edge of the bed toward the nightstand. The drawer rattled when he yanked it open, his breathing still uneven. His muscles taut with restraint. Y/n watched the flex of his shoulders as he rummaged inside, the dim light catching the sweat-slicked curve of his shoulder before he straightened with a foil packet pinched between his fingers.
Her hand shot out before he could tear it open, fingers wrapping around his wrist. Jungkook stilled, brow furrowing as he glanced down at her until she tugged his arm back toward her, shaking her head once.
His breath caught. The smirk that curled his lips was slow, dangerous, his eyes darkening with understanding.
"You naughty model," he rasped, the word rough with disbelief and something hotter, hungrier.
The condom hit the floor, forgotten, as Jungkook surged forward, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that tasted like recklessness and salt. His hands slid under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly . Her legs fell open wider for him. He groaned against her lips when the tip of his cock brushed against her, already slick from his mouth. Y/n shuddered at the contact, her nails digging into his shoulders.
Jungkook didn’t push in. Not yet. Instead, he rocked forward just enough to tease, the head of his cock dragging through her wetness in slow, torturous strokes, catching on her clit with every other pass.
Y/n inhaled a sharp breath, her hips jerking up instinctively but he held her down with one broad hand splayed across her stomach, his grip firm but not unkind.
"Easy," he murmured, his voice wrecked, his smirk softening into something almost tender as he watched her face.
"You want it like this? Then let me fucking savor you. Feel your walls wrap around my bare cock." Jungkook growled, his voice rough with restraint as he pressed forward, the thick head of his cock stretching her inch by torturous inch.
Y/n's fingers dug into his biceps, her breath hitching as he filled her slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring the way her body yielded to his. She gasped when he bottomed out, her thighs trembling around his hips, her nails biting into his skin.
"Fuck—you're big," she yelped, her voice breaking on a moan as she tilted her hips, trying to take him deeper.
Jungkook groaned, his forehead dropping to hers, his breath hot against her lips.
"You feel—" His voice cracked, his hips twitching forward involuntarily, and she whimpered, oversensitive but arching into him anyway.
"Fuck, Y/n, you feel perfect." He dragged his lips along her jaw, his teeth grazing her pulse point before he sucked lightly, marking her in a way that sent heat pooling low in her stomach.
When he pulled back to look at her, his dark eyes were nearly black with want, his pupils blown wide. "You okay?" he rasped, his thumb brushing over her hipbone, his touch achingly gentle despite the way his body trembled with restraint.
Y/n nodded, biting her lip as she rolled her hips experimentally, drawing a choked groan from him. "M-move," she breathed, her voice shaking.
"Please—Jungkook, move."
He didn’t need to be told twice. Jungkook’s hips snapped forward, driving into her with a sharp, deep thrust that punched a moan from her lungs. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he set a punishing pace, his grip on her hips tight enough to bruise. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with her whimpers and his ragged breaths, the headboard rattling against the wall with every snap of his hips.
Jungkook swore under his breath, his rhythm faltering for a moment when she clenched around him.
"Jesus—you’re gonna kill me," he gritted out, his forehead dropping to hers again, his breath hot and uneven against her lips. His thrusts slowed, growing deeper, more deliberate, each one dragging against that spot inside her that had her seeing stars.
“A-ahghh Jungkook!” She gasped his name.
"Louder," he demanded roughly, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.
"Let me hear you."
And when she did — when she moaned his name like a prayer, her voice breaking on every other syllable — he groaned like it was the best sound he’d ever heard.
His mouth crashed into hers, swallowing her cries as his hips pistoned faster, harder. His cock hitting that spot inside her with every thrust until she was writhing beneath him, her nails raking down his back.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to watch her face, his dark eyes tracing every flicker of pleasure that crossed her features.
"Y/n…" he panted, his voice wrecked, his hips never stopping their relentless pace.
Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, barely, her lashes heavy as she tried to focus on him. Her breathing came in soft, uneven pulls, chest rising against his.
Y/n stilled for a moment, her brows pulling together slightly, something aching in her chest at the way he said it. Not as a demand, not even a question… just fear laid bare.
Her hands came up instinctively, cupping his face, grounding him there. Her thumbs brushed gently along his cheeks, slow and steady.
“Please…”
“I won’t,” she said, shaking her head slightly, her fingers tightening just a little against his skin.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh under it, like he didn’t quite believe how he got this lucky, his forehead dipping closer to hers for a second before he leaned in again, pressing his lips to hers.
"Cum for me.”
His hand slid between them, his thumb brushing over her clit in quick, firm circles, and that was all it took.
“Mhmp—shit—I’m close!” Y/n shattered with a cry, her back bowing off the bed as the orgasm ripped through her, her vision whiting out at the edges.
Jungkook groaned her name, his hips stuttering as her walls clenched around him, his thrusts growing erratic.
"Fuck, Y/n!" His voice cracked, his fingers digging into her hips as he chased his own release, his rhythm falling apart.
Jungkook's hips stuttered against hers, his rhythm unraveling as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. The moment he felt her clench around him — wet and pulsing — his breath tore from his lungs in a ragged gasp.
"Fuck—fuck—" His fingers dug into her waist, hard enough to bruise, his entire body trembling with restraint.
With a sharp inhale, he wrenched himself out of her, his cock slick and glistening. The sudden loss of heat made him groan, but he didn't stop —couldn't stop.
His fist wrapped around himself in one rough stroke. Jungkook’s release hit her skin in hot, long, uneven stripes. His low grunts muffled against the curve of her neck as his body shuddered through the aftershocks. His breath came ragged, his forehead pressed to her collarbone like he couldn’t bear to lift his head just yet. Y/n watched the rise and fall of his shoulders, the way his muscles trembled with exhaustion and lingering pleasure, his fingers still gripping her hip like she might slip away if he let go. She traced idle circles on his sweat-slicked back, her own heartbeat slow and satisfied.
The air smelled like salt and sex, the quiet between them thick with breathes slowing down. Jungkook exhaled sharply against her skin, then lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze. His pupils were still blown wide, his lips swollen from kissing her, and the sight sent a lazy thrill through her.
“Messy,” she murmured, nodding toward the sticky heat cooling on her stomach.
Jungkook chuckled against her lips, a breathless, boyish sound that made her stomach flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the aftershocks still humming through her body.
“Sorry bout that. Couldn’t cum inside.” He smiled. His nose bumped hers when he pulled back slightly, their breaths mingling in the quiet between them.
“Not yet,” he suddenly added making Y/n weakly push his shoulder with her palm.
"How are you?" he murmured, voice rough like gravel but softer than she'd ever heard it — like he wasn't just asking about the sex, but about her.
Y/n combed her fingers through the damp strands of hair at the nape of his neck, her other arm looped loosely around his shoulders.
"I loved it," she admitted, watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
He dipped his head to kiss her again, slower this time, lingering like he was memorizing the taste of her. She could feel the lazy drag of his lips curving into another grin when she sighed into it, her fingers tightening in his hair. Jungkook pulled back just enough to nudge her leg with his, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"You're gonna be trouble, aren't you?"
She laughed, the sound bright and startled out of her, and Jungkook's grin widened like he'd won something. He shifted his weight onto one elbow, his free hand tracing idle patterns along her ribcage. The pads of his fingers were calloused from gripping steering wheels too tight, but the way they skimmed over her skin was almost reverent.
Jungkook’s lips curved against hers, the kiss dissolving into something breathless and giddy as their laughter mingled. Y/n’s arms tightened around his neck, her fingers threading through the damp strands at his nape while he nuzzled her cheek, his nose brushing hers in a way that felt stupidly, impossibly tender for someone who’d just fucked her into the mattress.
He pulled back again. This time, he couldn’t help his eyes. Like they had a mind of their own, they tracked down between their bodies, his gaze mostly on Y/n’s nudity.
"You’re staring," she murmured, thumbing away a bead of sweat near his temple.
"Can’t help it," he admitted, voice rough but warm, his gaze flicking over her face like he was cataloging every detail — the way her lashes fanned against her cheeks, the pink still high on her skin.
His thumb traced the curve of her bottom lip, slow, wondering. "You’re kinda breathtaking like this."
Y/n scoffed, but her chest did something stupidly fluttery. "Smooth talker."
Jungkook grinned, his lips brushing hers as he murmured, "Yeah?" like he couldn't quite believe it.
Jungkook’s lips trailed slow, unhurried kisses down her chest, each brush of his mouth warmer than the last. When he reached her nipples, he lingered — sucking lightly, then softer, his tongue swirling in a way that made her sigh and arch into him even though she was spent.
“I should hide my tits from you.”
His chuckle vibrated against her skin, affectionate and low, before he pressed one last kiss between her breasts like a silent promise.
“Please don’t,” he chuckled.
“But I highkey like this bra on you too,” he smirked. “Your tits pressed up like that…”
That made Y/n roll her eyes. Then, he reached for the tissues on the nightstand with a lazy stretch, his muscles flexing under her fingertips as she traced the ridges of his abs. The tissues were cool against her stomach where his release had dried, his touch careful as he wiped her clean. There was something unbearably tender in the way his fingers lingered afterward, tracing idle circles on her skin like he couldn’t bear to stop touching her.
When he tossed the tissues aside, Jungkook tugged her properly into the bed, his arms winding around her as he pulled the blanket up over their hips. Y/n curled into him instinctively, her head pillowed on his bicep, her fingers grazing the planes of his chest. His heartbeat thudded steady under her palm, his skin warm and slightly sticky with sweat, the scent of him — swear and something faintly sweet — filling her lungs.
Jungkook’s breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the lazy drag of his fingers through her hair.
Y/n’s eyelids grew heavy, her limbs melting into the mattress as the exhaustion of the night and the warmth of his body lulled her deeper into drowsiness. She fought it for a moment, wanting to savor this, him, but the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand was too soothing. Too safe.
Her fingers shifted slightly against him, not quite falling still yet.
“Jungkook…” she murmured, her voice soft, almost slurred with sleep.
He hummed in response, his hand pausing briefly in her hair before continuing, slower now.
“Promise me something,” she said quietly.
He glanced down at her, brows pulling together just slightly. He was already trying to figure out where this was going.
“What?” he asked, voice low, gentler now.
Her fingers stilled for a second before curling faintly against him.
“That you won’t push people away when you get scared…” she said, her gaze soft but steady despite the sleep tugging at her. A small pause. Then, quieter, more vulnerable, “At least… don’t push me.”
The words settled between them, heavier than they sounded.
Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. His hand slowed in her hair, fingers lingering as his gaze stayed on her, something unreadable flickering across his face. Not hesitation, just the weight of it. The reality of what she was asking.
Then his thumb brushed lightly against her arm.
“I promise,” he said.
Y/n’s lips curved just slightly at that, her eyes finally slipping shut, the tension she didn’t realise she was holding easing out of her. She felt more than heard his quiet chuckle when her fingers stilled against his skin, her breathing evening out.
“Sleep,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep and something softer, his lips brushing her forehead.
His fingers combed through her hair once more, tucking a loose strand behind her ear before his palm settled at the small of her back, holding her close even as she drifted.
Y/n didn’t remember closing her eyes, but when she blinked them open again, just for a second, it was to the press of Jungkook’s lips against her forehead, lingering and warm.
Her lashes fluttered shut again. Jungkook exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her bare shoulder as he watched her sleep. The streetlight outside cast a faint glow through the curtains, painting her skin in gold and shadow, her lashes dark against her cheeks. He brushed his thumb over the curve of her shoulder, marveling at the warmth of her, the way her breath hitched slightly when he touched the dip of her waist.
Carefully, he shifted onto his side, pulling her closer until her head rested in the crook of his arm, her leg hooked over his thigh. Her warmth seeped into him, her scent filling his lungs too. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in, his lips curving against her scalp when she mumbled something incoherent and nuzzled closer.
After discovering her brother's secret life as the leader of an underground racing crew, Y/N is pulled into a world of speed, danger, and rivalry. That's where she meets Jeon Jungkook - the fearless leader of the opposing crew, the one her brother can't stand, and the last person she should ever get close to. But Jungkook is impossible to ignore. And Y/N is impossible for him to forget. Because in a world where every choice could end in flames...falling for each other might be the most dangerous race of all.
pairing. racer!jk x model!reader
warnings. brother's enemy, somewhat forbidden love, smut, angst, fluff, obsession, jealousy, possessiveness, masturbation, unprotected sex, sexting, bodily fluids, rough sex, multiple positions, public sex, degradation kink, dirty talk, sexual tension, sexual teasing, smoking, violence, illegal activities, mentions of blood, control
playlist | m.list
w.c. 6.5k
Stay ₊ ⊹₊ ⊹
It had been seventy-two hours. And Jungkook had only gotten five of them.
Only five fucking hours to touch her. To kiss her properly. To bury his face in her neck and whisper things he’d never said out loud before she — once again, and not even on purpose — slipped right past his fingers.
They had finally sorted their shit out and finally crossed that line. Oh then she boarded a plane. The timing was almost laughable. If Jungkook wasn’t so irritated about it, he would’ve admired the irony.
“Yo, Kook!” The sudden hard pat against his back almost made his phone do a swan dive onto the puddle of gas. Clammy palm smacking leather jacket, a sticky, muffled thwap echoing against the hood.
“You’ve been glued to that screen all night. C’mon, man—last race for the night, hot ladies, drinks, loud music—you love this!” Taehyung rubbed under his nose with one finger, the other hand balancing a glass of whiskey.
“My mom,” Jungkook muttered. “Won’t shut up about… stuff.” He didn’t bother hiding the eye-roll behind his yellow tinted sunglasses — they were useless in the dim garage anyway.
“Still that blabbermouth of a mother of yours, huh?” Taehyung snickered, settling down next to him on the hood. Jungkook’s thumb idly rubbed the smooth curve of the phone case, almost as if caressing it could steady his pulse.
His mind wasn’t on Taehyung or the party or the race that was seconds away. It was on her. Y/n. That little whirlwind of chaos and sunlight that had invaded his life.
Taehyung took another sip from his glass, then tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing at Jungkook’s thumb that was swiping on his phone, like it personally offended him.
“Mm!” He chocked. “That the model chick?”
Jungkook’s thumb froze mid-scroll. Taehyung let out a quiet laugh and it was the kind that meant he’d already caught the reaction he needed.
“Yeah. Thought so.”
“Shut up,” Jungkook muttered, locking his phone and shoving it into his jacket pocket.
“What?” Taehyung spread his arms. “I’m just asking. Last time I saw you you were stalking her Instagram like a creepy little bastard.”
“I wasn’t stalking—”
“Bullshit,” Taehyung cut in immediately, snorting. “You checked her timeline for five days straight.”
Jungkook already felt irritation crawling up his spine like ants. He arched a brow, “you done?”
“Nah, not really.” Taehyung looked down at his drink and swirled the glass in a circular motion, grin spreading slowly.
“So what happened, huh? You went all… Romeo at her fancy-ass mansion, waited like some lovesick idiot, and then… what? Ghosted you?”
Actually, Jungkook didn’t tell anyone. Yet. Not Namjoon, not Taehyung, not Marquise — not anyone in Black Reign. Some secrets weren’t meant to be spilled. Jungkook also didn’t trust them — not when the first squeal of a rumor could put Y/n in the middle of his messy world. If Yoongi found out that way too, who knows what he’d do to either of them. He didn’t need Y/n caught in that storm.
“She didn’t ghost me.”
“Oh shit,” Taehyung laughed louder. “So she let you speak?”
Jungkook shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. Taehyung raised both hands.
“Alright, alright. Relax, tiger. I’m just saying—you disappeared that night to admit your feelings to her, then came back acting like someone ran over your dog.”
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “You talk too much.”
“Yeah, but I’m also usually right.” Taehyung tilted his head again, studying him. “So—what—you two a thing now?”
Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. The silence stretched for a second too long.
Taehyung’s brows lifted slowly. “Holy shit.”
“Don’t start—” Jungkook warned.
“You are, aren’t you?” Taehyung pointed a finger as he laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Man, Yoongi’s gonna lose his damn mind.”
“That’s exactly why you’re gonna keep your mouth shut.”
Taehyung smirked, placing his palm against his chest. “Relax. Your secret’s safe with me.” Then he glanced at Jungkook’s pocket where the phone was. “But if that is her texting you…” He leaned closer, voice dropping teasingly next to Jungkook’s ear. “You better not let it distract you from the race tonight, lover boy. Would be pretty embarrassing if Black Reign’s leader wrecked his car cause he couldn’t stop texting his girlfriend.”
Jungkook scoffed, but his jaw tightened just a little. “Yeah,” he muttered, pushing off the hood. “Sure.”
Taehyung just grinned because Jungkook hadn’t denied it. He slammed a hand against the hood, loud enough to make Taehyung flinch and splash some liquor onto his nose.
“Alright,” he muttered, voice rough. “Let’s go crash some laps before I crash myself.”
Taehyung laughed. He gave Jungkook one last manly pat on his back before Jungkook slid into his black Porche.
He slid into the driver’s seat, the leather hugging his back like an old accomplice that already knew his habits. The car smelled faintly of gasoline, rubber, and the ghost of last week’s cigarette smoke — comforting in a gritty kind of way. Jungkook adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles rolling once before he started the engine.
The car growled awake, low and impatient, like a chained animal finally being let off the leash.
“Yeah, baby,” Jungkook purred under his breath, fingers caressing the wheel.
He rolled forward toward the starting line, tires crunching over loose gravel. The crowd was already loud as hell — people leaning over barricades, phones flashing, voices crashing into each other like waves. The air buzzed with cheap beer, gasoline fumes, and reckless anticipation.
Right beside him, an orange sports car glided into place. Jungkook glanced over.
Of course.
Park Jimin.
Jimin cracked his neck slowly, tilting his head side to side until something popped. Then he flexed his fingers, rolling his wrists like he was about to step into a boxing ring instead of a driver’s seat. Jungkook scoffed.
“Ay, midget,” he called through the open window, voice carrying easily over the engine noise. “You’re racing. Not fighting.” His grin slipped out before he could stop it — half amusement at Jimin’s dramatic warm-up, half because Y/n’s message was still sitting somewhere in the back of his head like fog that refused to clear.
Jimin glanced over lazily. “Who knows, Jeon,” he said, voice smooth as oil. “You might wanna take me down physically after I win.” That infamous sly smirk crawled up his blush-colored lips—the one that usually made people either swing at him or lose their cool.
Jungkook just snorted. “Keep dreaming.”
Across the track, someone lifted the gun. For half a second, everything held its breath. Engines snarled. The crowd roared.
Gunshot.
The world snapped into motion. Black and orange shot forward like bullets tearing through the night, headlights slicing the dark into blinding streaks. Tires screamed against the asphalt, rubber burning sharp in the air as the cars ripped down the road, turning the straightaway into a blur of neon and noise. The crowd behind them erupted. But inside the car, Jungkook’s world narrowed to the road, the wheel, the speed and soon, the faint buzz of his phone clutched in the holder.
The first stretch of road blurred past them in streaks of light and asphalt. Jungkook shifted gears smoothly, the engine roaring beneath him as the car responded like it was wired straight into his nerves. The steering wheel vibrated under his palms—alive, impatient. Beside him, Jimin’s orange car stayed glued to his flank, the bastard matching his speed turn for turn.
“Persistent lil’ shit,” Jungkook muttered, pressing the pedal harder.
Behind the barricades at the starting stretch, Taehyung cupped his hands around his mouth. “C’mon, Kook! Don’t let that short bastard pass you!”
Namjoon stood beside him, arms crossed but voice raised over the noise. “Hold the inside line, Jungkook!”
Across the track, the Silver Serpents crew were just as loud.
“Don’t choke now, Jimin!” Hoseok yelled, laughing as he leaned over the railing.
Marquise whistled sharply. “Dust his ass!”
Yoongi just watched with narrowed eyes, quiet but focused. Then—
Bzzzt.
A faint vibration came from the phone clipped into the holder beside his dashboard. Jungkook’s eyes flicked to the screen for half a second. The message lit up the dark interior of the car.
“Good luck, Racer King. Don’t crash 😉”
Butterflies didn’t just stir in Jungkook’s stomach —they shot straight to his chest, wings beating hard against his ribs until his breath caught. The nickname alone could’ve done it The way she called him ‘Racer King’ landed softer than it should’ve.
But what really fucked him up was the care behind it.
Care was something Jungkook usually dodged like a pothole at full speed. It came with expectations. With the terrifying obligation of feeling something back. He’d spent years locking that shit away where no one could reach it. Except Y/n had slipped past the locks like she had the damn keys. And now, the feeling was climbing his chest, restless and fluttering, making his heart beat like it suddenly had somewhere it needed to be.
Without thinking, Jungkook glanced at the phone again. A small, helpless smile tugged at his lips.
“Racer King…” he murmured under his breath.
Back at the barricades, Taehyung suddenly leaned forward.
“The hell is he doing?”
Namjoon’s eyes narrowed, tracking the black car as it drifted slightly off its line. “Jungkook,” he muttered under his breath.
Up ahead on the edge of the track sat a stack of large metal gas cans, pushed back near the guardrail from earlier refueling. And Jungkook’s car was heading straight toward them.
Taehyung’s eyes widened. “Kook!” he shouted instinctively. “Watch the—!”
Namjoon stepped forward, voice cutting through the chaos. “Jungkook! Look at the road!”
Even across the track, the Silver Serpents noticed. Yoongi straightened slightly, eyes sharpening as he followed the black car’s trajectory.
“The idiot’s drifting,” he muttered.
Hoseok squinted down the road. “Uh—why’s he heading for the cans?”
“Jeon!” Marquise shouted suddenly. “Watch out!”
Jungkook’s head finally snapped up for a moment.
“Shit—!”
Too late.
The front tire clipped the guardrail and the car slammed straight into the stack of metal cans with a deafening crash. Metal exploded across the asphalt, the containers clanging and rolling violently as sparks spat out behind the car. The impact jerked the vehicle sideways, the engine screaming as Jungkook fought the wheel.
“Fuck!”
A flash of orange shot past him like a fucking missile.
Jimin.
The Silver Serpent driver leaned out his window just enough to throw Jungkook a quick salute as he sped ahead, the smug bastard already claiming the lead.
Jungkook slammed his palm against the steering wheel. “Goddammit!”
The race wasn’t technically over yet, but he knew. Everyone knew. Jimin crossed the finish line first, the crowd’s roar exploding through the night like fireworks. Jungkook’s heart was still hammering in his chest — not from the speed or crash.
From the message.
The phone sat in its holder, the screen dimming slowly.
“Don’t crash 😉”
Jungkook let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh that sounded painful, dragging a hand down his face.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Too late.”
Jimin’s car crossed the finish line and — like the heartless jerks most of them were — Silver Serpents burst into cheers, swarming toward him like a pack that had just smelled blood.
“Fuck yeah!” Jimin whooped, punching his fist into the smoke-choked air before the car even fully stopped. The engine hissed and ticked from the heat as he swung the door open, stepping out with that cocky grin already plastered across his face.
Hoseok was the first to grab him. “Told you you’d smoke his ass!”
Marquise let out a sharp whistle. “Damn, Jimin! That was clean!”
Even Yoongi, who rarely bothered with theatrics, gave him a solid clap on the shoulder when he reached them.
“Lucky you,” he said simply.
Jimin just smirked, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “What can I say? Jeon handed that win to me on a silver platter.”
On the other side of the track, the mood was the complete opposite. The toppled tower of gasoline cans sat like a metal graveyard across the asphalt, some of them still rolling lazily as the sharp smell of fuel hung thick in the air. Jungkook’s black car was wedged right in the middle of the mess, engine coughing weakly. Black Reign were already sprinting toward it.
“Move—move!” Taehyung barked as he shoved past people. Namjoon was right behind him, long strides eating up the distance.
They barely reached the wreck before the driver’s door swung open abruptly. Jungkook’s heavy boots hit the ground first straight into a puddle of gasoline that splashed around his soles. He stumbled out of the car, one hand gripping the top of the door like it was the only thing keeping him upright. For a second he just stood there, swaying slightly. Then his knees almost buckled.
“Shit—!” Taehyung rushed forward, catching one of Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon grabbed the other, steadying him before he could faceplant into the asphalt.
Up close, they saw the damage. A thin cut split the side of Jungkook’s forehead, blood running down toward his temple, and another shallow gash stretched across his cheek. Not deep—but angry and red.
“Yo—the fuck happened?” Taehyung scoffed, half worried and half offended. “Were you even looking at the road?”
Jungkook just grunted, his weight sagging heavily between them as they started dragging—well, guiding—him toward the rest of Black Reign.
The crowd parted quickly when they saw him coming. Concern rippled through the gang as they cleared a path toward Taehyung’s car parked nearby.
“Shut it—just…get me to the car—” Jungkook hissed, voice tight. “Argh—fuck, my neck!” His face scrunched up, eyes squeezed shut as the pain shot through him.
“Think he got whiplash or some shit…” Namjoon muttered under his breath, slightly winded from hauling Jungkook’s weight. “Quick—get someone to treat him!” he called back to the others. A couple of the guys scrambled immediately, one already digging through a first aid kit someone kept in the trunk.
They finally reached Taehyung’s car, the boot already popped open. Jungkook dropped down onto the edge of it with a heavy exhale, elbows resting on his knees while someone pressed gauze against his forehead.
Across the lot, the celebration from Silver Serpents had quieted slightly. Yoongi and Marquise stood side by side now, both watching the trio limp toward the car. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Because the thing was — Jungkook crashing like that? Didn’t make sense. The guy was a freak behind the wheel. Half the time it looked like the road bent around him instead of the other way around.
Marquise finally crossed her arms. “The hell was that?”
Yoongi didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed locked on Jungkook sitting at the open boot while someone dabbed at the blood on his face. Something about it felt off. Wrong.
“Go,” Yoongi said quietly behind her.
Marquise whipped her head around. “What?”
“See what happened,” he said, nudging his chin toward Taehyung’s car.
“And you’re nosy because…?” she raised an eyebrow.
Actually, Yoongi didn’t really have an answer for that. He just knew Jungkook’s accident felt too damn strange. Just unlike him.
Yoongi clicked his tongue. “Just go.”
Marquise dramatically exhaled, the kind that made it sound like the entire situation was personally inconveniencing her.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. Still, she turned and dragged her heels toward the cluster of Black Reign gathered around Taehyung’s car.
“Ah—shit!” Jungkook flinched the moment the cotton touched his cut again. “Chill on the alcohol!” The guy holding the cotton ball barely pressed it against Jungkook’s forehead, yet Jungkook jerked back like he’d been stabbed.
“Boss, I’m barely touching—”
“I said chill,” Jungkook snapped, teeth clenched.
That was when Marquise stepped up. She stopped right in front of the group assembled at the open boot. The moment she did, several heads turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. Black Reign’s eyes were already studying her. Judging. Annoyed.
“Get lost,” Marquise said flatly, jerking her thumb away from the car. “Needa talk to your leader.” Taehyung let out a pathetic little laugh, like she’d just told the world’s worst joke.
“And we should listen to you because…?” His brows dropped in exaggerated confusion as he stepped forward, crossing his arms. “Last I checked, you’re not his chick anymore.”
A few of the guys snorted quietly. Taehyung tilted his head, eyes dragging slowly over her like he was examining something mildly irritating.
“So move along, honey.” He even made a flimsy little fanning motion with his hand.
Marquise inhaled slowly. It was the same breath someone took when dealing with a spoiled child they were dangerously close to drop-kicking.
“Careful,” she said, voice low. “I don’t take disrespect.”
Taehyung grinned. “Oh? Then… what should I call you?” He leaned a little closer, eyes glinting. “Minx?”
The word had barely left his mouth before Marquise’s hand shot forward, clutching the collar of the undershirt beneath his jacket and yanking him down to her height. Gasps and quiet “oh shit”s rippled through the guys watching. Their faces were inches apart now. Taehyung blinked once—surprised. Then a slow grin spread across his face.
“Well damn,” he murmured. “If you wanted me close you could’ve just asked.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Marquise hissed. Her grip tightened. “Call me ‘honey’ again, I’ll knock your teeth out.” Taehyung’s eyes flicked to her raised arm.
“Oh? You gonna—”
Her fist was already cocked back. Ready to swing.
“Enough!”
Jungkook’s voice cracked through the tension like a whip. Every head turned toward him. Marquise and Taehyung were still glaring at each other, breaths sharp, neither one backing down. Jungkook dragged a hand over his face, wincing when it brushed too close to the cut on his forehead.
“Get lost,” he muttered tiredly. “All of you.” Groans erupted immediately.
“Seriously?”
“C’mon, man—”
Marquise still had Taehyung by the shirt. Namjoon cleared his throat behind him.
“Marquise.”
She didn’t move. Namjoon calmly reached forward, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and peeled her grip off Taehyung’s shirt like he was removing gum from fabric. Taehyung straightened his clothes with a dramatic sigh.
“Jesus,” he muttered. As he turned away with Namjoon, he leaned slightly toward him and murmured under his breath—
“Fuck-ass cunt…”
Marquise rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t detach. Within seconds, the rest of the gang dispersed, leaving the area quieter. Even the guy with the first aid kit slipped away. Now it was just the two of them.
Jungkook sat on the edge of the open trunk, elbows on his knees, holding a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. He pressed it against his forehead.
“Ah—fuck—”
The sting made his fingers tremble slightly. Marquise walked closer. Without a word, she plucked the cotton from his hand. She muttered something before she tossed the bloodied cotton aside, grabbed a fresh one, soaked it, and gently pressed it to the cut. This time, far more carefully. Still, Jungkook hissed through his teeth.
Marquise sighed softly. “What happened?” Her tone had shifted. It sounded less like interrogation and more like a tired mother who already knew her kid had done something stupid. Jungkook stared downward for a moment.
“Distracted.”
“By what?” she asked. Another careful dab.
“Y/n isn’t here.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook muttered. “…but she was in here.” He tapped his temple with his index finger and let out a slightly cringed chuckle.
Marquise paused mid-dab. The silence stretched between them for a moment. The distant sound of engines cooling and muffled celebrations drifted from the other side of the lot. Marquise finally leaned back slightly, studying his face.
“Did… that night not go as planned?”
Jungkook let out a humorless laugh. “You could… say that.”
She raised a brow. “Meaning?”
He rubbed the back of his neck—and immediately regretted it. “Fuck—” Whiplash shot pain down his spine.
Marquise clicked her tongue. “Don’t move like that, idiot.” She steadied his head slightly with her hand as she checked the cut again.
Up close, Jungkook’s jaw was tight. His eyes looked irritated. But not just because of the crash.
“Something happen after she left?” Marquise asked.
“Well she didn’t… She didn’t really leave.” Jungkook’s lips twitched.
“…Then?”
“She stayed. In a way…”
Now Marquise fully stopped cleaning his wound.
“Oh.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Well…that sounds like it went according to plan.”
Jungkook scoffed. “Ya think.”
“So what—you two fought?” she guessed.
“No. I mean… not just fought.”
“Then what?”
Jungkook looked away. That alone made Marquise suspicious. “Jungkook.” He stayed quiet. Her eyes slowly widened. “Oh my god.”
Marquise leaned back a little, staring at him like he’d just admitted he drove the whole race blindfolded.
“Don’t tell me the big bad Racer King lost a race because he was daydreaming about a girl who’s now his girlfriend!” Jungkook shot her a glare that would’ve scared off most people. Marquise wasn’t most people.
“Shut up.”
She leaned back against the car, arms folding loosely over her chest. The metal behind her was still warm from the engine heat, breathing out faint waves of warmth like a tired animal. A slow, entertained smile crept onto her face.
“Wow.” She laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Yoongi is going to love hearing this.”
“That’s the last thing I need right now, Mar,” Jungkook muttered, exhaling hard through his nose. His shoulders sagged like someone had pulled the invisible strings holding him upright.
Marquise grabbed another cotton ball and ripped open a band-aid packet with her teeth. “He wouldn’t take it well,” she hummed. Her fingers slid across Jungkook’s forehead as she pressed the band-aid down carefully. The adhesive stuck with a soft shk sound.
“Definitely not,” Jungkook chuckled quietly. The sting faded slowly, like a storm rolling away across the horizon. His muscles loosened just a little. Marquise moved to the cut on his cheek. The alcohol hit skin again.
“Fuck—”
“Relax,” she said casually. “You’re not dying.”
Jungkook sucked air through his teeth but stayed still.
“I got distracted by my phone mid-race,” he admitted.
Marquise paused. Her eyes lifted slowly. “You were what?”
“It was a message from Y/n,” he said, like that explained everything. His gaze drifted somewhere past Marquise’s shoulder—somewhere soft and distant, where the memory of that message was still glowing like a tiny bonfire in his brain.
“My attention was on it instead of the road.” Marquise stared at him like he’d just confessed to licking a live electrical wire.
“You’re actually stupid.” Jungkook shrugged weakly. “Worth it?” She asked it like a joke. But the question landed in the air between them like a coin spinning on a table—waiting to fall. Jungkook didn’t even blink.
“…Yeah.” No hesitation. No embarrassment. Just a simple, honest yes.
That answer hit Marquise like a shot of tequila. Her grin came back immediately—wide, wicked, delighted. “That’s… disgustingly cute.”
“Shut up.”
“No seriously,” she said, nudging his shin with the tip of her boot. “You crashed into a tower of gasoline cans because your girlfriend texted you.”
“Stop calling her that,” Jungkook muttered. But the corners of his mouth betrayed him. A smile tried to escape. His cheeks tinted faint pink under the grime and dried blood. Marquise caught it immediately.
“Oh?” she smirked, tilting her head. “So she’s… not your girlfriend?”
Jungkook hesitated. Just a fraction of a second. But that half-second silence screamed louder than any confession. She was his, and he was hers.
Marquise’s grin turned smug. “Thought so.”She tossed the used cotton balls back into the open first aid kit and wiped her hands on her jeans.
For a moment the night filled the silence between them. Engines cooling tick-tick-ticked like metal crickets. Somewhere across the lot, the Silver Serpents were still yelling and celebrating around Jimin’s car. Someone cracked open a beer. Someone else laughed like a damn hyena. The whole place smelled like gasoline, smoke, sweat, and burned rubber—the perfume of illegal racing. Marquise looked back at Jungkook. Still scraped up and sore. But calmer now like the storm inside his head had finally exhaled. Her smile softened.
“I’m happy for you,” she said. “You know.” Jungkook looked up at her. That caught him off guard.
“You’re not… jealous?” he asked slowly. “Or mad or some shit?” He squinted slightly at her. “I mean… don’t you girls have some girl code or whatever the fuck?”
Marquise barked out a laugh. “Hell no.” She pressed another band-aid onto the cut on his cheek. “I never loved you, Kook.” Her tone was casual, honest, and clean. “ Not romantically at least. It was just sex.”
“—just sex.” Jungkook snorted. They said it at the same time. Perfectly in sync. And yeah, they both meant it.
Their thing had always been physical—heat without a flame, sparks without a fire. Two bored people crashing into each other for fun, nothing deeper than that. No romance. No drama. Just bodies and bad decisions.
Marquise leaned back again, resting her palms against the edge of the car. “And besides,” she continued, shrugging. “You do things for Y/n that you never did for me.” Jungkook blinked, a little slower this time, like the words needed a second to land through the dull throb in his head. Marquise tilted her chin toward his bandaged face.
“You text her every day,” she said, counting it off like it was obvious. “Drove all the way to her house just to talk. And now you crashed your… damn car thinking about her.” There was no bite in her voice anymore. It softened, eased up, like she wasn’t teasing him now—just stating something real.
“That kind of stupid?” she added quietly. “Only happens when someone’s actually in love.” The words didn’t hit loud. They settled. Heavy. Like something set down between them that neither of them tried to move.
Marquise gave a small shrug, one shoulder lifting, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. “So yeah… I know.”
She glanced toward the dark parking lot, where headlights smeared long streaks across the pavement like spilled paint, colouring the mist that danced among the crowd.
“You really like her.” A pause. “And she likes you too.” Her lips twitched slightly into a subtle smile. “She was just in denial.”
Jungkook looked at her for a moment. Really looked. Even though their history had been messy and chaotic and physical in the dumbest way possible, he still appreciated the hell out of her. Marquise was honest—painfully honest sometimes—but honest.
The corner of his lip lifted. “You’re a good friend, Mar.”
She gave him a small, tired smile. The kind people gave when they didn’t want to admit they actually cared.
“I know.”
Jungkook leaned back against the side of the car trunk, finally letting his body relax. The night air brushed against his face, cool against the fresh bandages. He glanced at her sideways.
“Thanks, nurse.”
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
The airport was loud. A constant hum of rolling luggage, overlapping announcements, and chatter.
Jungkook leaned back in his — or rather — Taehyung’s car, fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the sliding doors. Too many waves of people came through, none of them her. Families, tourists, business suits, crying kids all blending into the gray sea of noise. Not her. Then, the doors slid open again. And there she was.
Camera flashes cut through the humid air like fireflies gone rogue. Fans screamed her name, voices overlapping, hands stretched out in desperation. Security moved like a shield of human barricades, keeping the eager crowd at bay while Y/n weaved through them with the ease of someone born to be seen. Her sunglasses perched on her head, hair perfectly in place despite the wind. She threw waves to the nearest cameras and fans, her gummy smile sharp and practiced.
“Y/n! Over here!”
“Welcome back!”
“Smile for me!”
Jungkook didn’t think. He just pushed the door open, already moving. The second his boots hit the polished floor, the world shrank to the space between them.
Y/n slowed just enough for her team to catch up around her — someone talking about schedules, someone else holding her bag, a bodyguard hovering nearby. It was controlled and practiced. She did it all without breaking stride, professional and effortless, until her gaze found him first. A pillar hid the car just enough so that only she could see. The sleek lines, the color not quite his usual black Porsche, and the subtle dents. But most importantly, she didn’t miss that recognisable figure clad in black.
Her lips curved immediately, a mix of amusement and exasperation. Jungkook’s head was bent slightly, scanning the crowd. Her gaze flicked to Jungkook again then casually—
“I’ll head home myself,” she said, adjusting her sunglasses like it was nothing.
Her manager blinked. “Are you sure? The car’s alre—”
“I’m good,” she cut in lightly. “Just already had other plans. I’ll text when I get back.” There was a short pause, like they wanted to argue. But they didn’t.
“Alright,” the manager nodded. “Rest well.” Y/n gave a small hum of acknowledgment and stepped away before anyone could change their mind.
Y/n gave the crowd one last wave and goodbye with the sweetest voice. Her heels clicked against the pavement towards the hidden car.
Once she got close, she’d finally saw her boyfriend. Without a second thought, she marched straight toward him, smacking his arm hard enough to make him grunt.
“Oi! What was that for!” Jungkook’s hand shot to his arm, ready to bite back, but she didn’t give him the chance.
Her lips crashed onto his before he could say another word. Warm, messy, desperate. One hand tangling at his hoodie, the other having her fingers brushing his cheeks. He groaned softly into the kiss, hands tightening around her like he was anchoring himself.
Before Y/n could let Jungkook melt fully into the kiss, she pulled back, letting their breaths puff into the cool air. She jabbed a finger into his chest, her hands landing softly on the bandaged spots on his cheeks as if inspecting for damage.
“You dumbass!” she snapped, voice a mixture of scolding and relief that rolled over him like a wave he didn’t know he’d been craving. “Did I not deliberately tell you—don’t crash? Why the fuck were you even looking at your phone on the road?” Her brows drew together, sharp and concerned, but her hands lingered on his face, feather-light, almost protective.
“Relax, Y/n. I’m not bleeding out or anything,” he said, smirking. His fingers brushed the pad of her hip in a way that made her heart skip, the casual touch commanding her attention. That smile — the one that always disarmed her — spread across his face.
Y/n huffed, softening but keeping her edge. “Next time you text me mid-race, I swear—I’ll climb into the car myself and drag your dumb ass out.”
He snorted, chest pressing against hers. “And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.” His grin was wide, pearly whites flashing, impossible not to smile back at.
“It’s only been two days,” she said, shaking her head with a small laugh.
“Two excruciating days not seeing you,” he countered, voice teasing but low.
“You see my Instagram,” she shrugged, playful but still mock-scolding.
“Not talking to you,” he shot back.
“We text every day!” Her laugh was light.
“Not touching you,” he whispered this time, leaning close enough that his lips hovered near her ear. She shivered. That familiar zing of electricity crawling up her spine, the same one he triggered in his garage before.
Jungkook’s fingers traced the curve of her waist. His lips followed the line of her ear, pressing gentle, feather-light kisses that made her giggle despite herself.
“ I missed you…” he murmured against her skin, low and intimate.
Y/n’s gaze softened, her playful scolding fading under the warmth of him. Never would she have imagined looking at her brother’s rival like this, her chest fluttering, her mind hazy.
“I… missed you too,” she admitted, voice almost breathless.
Jungkook lifted his head slowly, letting their foreheads almost touch as he held her close.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” she said softly, thumb brushing along his cheek where a band-aid laid.
“Hmm… maybe next time don’t leave?” He whispered back, letting her hands settle on his chest.
For a heartbeat, the world outside — the airport chaos, the flashing cameras, the screams — didn’t exist. It was just them, warm and tangled, finally back in the warmth they wanted to be in.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at her, the smile in his eyes soft but teasing. “So…where to? You wanna eat, sit somewhere, or just… stare at me some more?”
Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at her lips.
“Somewhere we can actually be alone. Make up for…you know, the past two days of me being gone.” Her hands trailed along his arm, eyes trailing along as she leaned closer, voice soft but insistent.
“Hm…” Jungkook tilted his head, pretending to think hard. “Alone, huh? Got a place in mind?”
Y/n’s eyes sparkled, a mix of mischief and affection. “Yours. I mean… I haven’t… even seen where you live yet.”
He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching. “Just a heads up, my place is no place for a…” His eyes raked down her figure, “high-end model who lives in a mansion with butlers and maids.”
She pressed a quick, deliberate peck to his lips and patted his chest.
“Perfect.” Then she hopped into his car like it was a goddamn go-kart. “Let’s go!” she yelled, already adjusting her seatbelt, energy bouncing off the leather interior.
Jungkook leaned his head back, chuckling in disbelief, shaking his head before he followed Y/n into the car and started the engine.
Jungkook found himself sweating. Not the kind that came with speed or adrenaline nor the kind that soaked through his shirt after a race or clung to skin after a long night in bed. This was different. It sat in his palms, made his grip unreliable, made his chest feel… tight.
Nervous.
The word felt foreign in his head. He doesn’t get nervous. Not before races. Not before fights. Not even before sex. So why the hell was bringing Y/n home making his hands act like they didn’t belong to him?
His keys nearly slipped from his fingers as he tried to unlock the door. The metal jingled louder than it should’ve, echoing through the narrow, quiet hallway like it was mocking him. Y/n stood a step behind, taking it in.
The building wasn’t fancy. Not even close. The walls were too plain, the lighting slightly dim, the air carrying that faint, old-building warmth. A little dodgy, maybe. But it was his. And for some reason, that made it feel fine.
After what felt like forever, the lock finally clicked. Jungkook pushed the door open, hesitation threading through his veins. Warm air spilled out immediately wrapping around them, heavy and lived-in. It was nothing like the polished, airy chill of her mansion.
“Welcome to my…” Jungkook paused, eyes flicking around the space like he was seeing it through her eyes for the first time. “…residence.” He stepped aside.
Y/n slipped off her heels at the entrance without being told, placing them neatly beside the door. Another pair added to the small, random collection of shoes already there. Something about that felt… weirdly permanent to Jungkook. Her feet padded softly against the floor as she wandered in.
It was small, yeah. But it wasn’t empty. The space wrapped around her like a quiet hug. The furniture was simple, a little worn in places, but clean. Comfortable. Lived in. There were small things that made it his — a big Hello Kitty soft-toy on the couch, a jacket hanging off the side of a chair, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air like it had seeped into the walls.
It didn’t try to impress. It didn’t need to anyways.
Y/n turned slowly, taking it all in, before her gaze landed back on him. And suddenly, the whole place felt warmer. Jungkook caught her looking. His throat went dry.
“I know it’s… uh” His eyes flicked past her shoulder, scanning his own apartment like he was judging it harder than she ever could. “…small. And kinda…” he huffed a quiet, self-conscious laugh, “…pathetic.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders tightening slightly.
“It’s all I can afford.”
Silence. Too long. It stretched just enough to make something uncomfortable twist in his chest.
“Y/n…?”
“I love it.” Just like that. Simple. Certain.
Jungkook blinked, brows pulling together like he didn’t hear her right. “…What?”
Y/n closed the distance between them without hesitation, her hands coming up to his shoulders. Her fingers pressed in gently, massaging the tension she could literally feel sitting there.
“It’s not pathetic, Kook,” she said softly. Her lashes lifted, eyes meeting his with something warm. Steady. “It’s your home.” Her thumbs brushed along his shoulders, grounding him. “And… because it’s yours,” she smiled, that gummy smile of hers breaking through, soft and a little blinding, “I love it.”
Something in his chest shifted. Not loud nor dramatic. Just settled. Like something restless finally found a place to sit.
Jungkook let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, a small scoff escaping him as he shook his head.
“You’re weird,” he muttered.
Y/n grinned. “You like weird, don’t you?” He looked at her for a second. Then reached out, fingers hooking lightly around her waist, pulling her closer without much thought.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I really do.”
There was a pause. Not awkward at all. Y/n’s gaze softened as she looked up at him, her hands sliding from his shoulders to rest against his chest.
“You really thought I’d walk in here and judge you?” she murmured with an arched brow. Jungkook shrugged one shoulder slightly, eyes dropping for a second.
“Didn’t know,” he said honestly. “I mean… your world’s different from mine.”
“Hmm,” she nodded. “It is.” Her fingers curled slightly into his hoodie. “But I’m here, aren’t I?”
That made him look back at her. Really look. Close enough to see the tiny details. The way her lashes cast shadows against her cheeks, the slight curve of her lips, the softness in her expression that wasn’t for cameras or anyone else, the mole below her eyebrow.
“Hmm,” he hummed quietly. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against her waist, back and forth. Slow. Y/n smiled faintly, stepping just a little closer until there was barely any space left between them.
“Now…” she tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting with something playful again, “are you gonna show me around or just stand here staring at me?”
Jungkook huffed a laugh. “Depends,” he smirked, grip tightening slightly at her waist. “You planning on using your sharp tongue on me?”
Y/n raised a brow. “When have I never?”
“Exactly,” he muttered. Jungkook didn’t let go of her immediately. For a second, he just stood there with his hand still resting at her waist, like he forgot he was supposed to move. Then he cleared his throat lightly and stepped back, scratching the back of his neck.
“Alright,” he sighed, glancing around like he suddenly remembered this place existed. “You wanted a tour, right?”
Y/n perked up instantly, already slipping past him. “Yes. I need to see how the infamous leader of Black Reign lives.”
He scoffed. “You’re about to be very disappointed.”
“Doubt it.”
She wandered ahead like she owned the place, fingertips grazing over surfaces, eyes taking in everything like it actually mattered. Jungkook trailed behind her, hands in his pockets, watching her more than he was watching where she was going.
“Where shall we start?” he asked, leaning slightly against the wall, trying to play it cool.
Y/n didn’t even hesitate. She pointed straight ahead, lips already twitching. “How about this huge Hello Kitty soft toy?”
Jungkook followed her finger and immediately laughed. “Oh my god.”
Y/n was already walking toward it, slow and dramatic like she’d just discovered evidence at a crime scene.
“Jeon Jungkook,” she said, turning back halfway, eyes wide in fake shock. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”
“It’s not mine,” he shot back instantly.
“Mhm.”
“It’s Seoyeon’s,” he corrected, pushing himself off the wall to follow her. “My younger sister—she leaves her stuff here.”
Y/n crouched slightly, pressing the plush’s cheek like she was testing it. “It’s huge.”
“Really—I didn’t notice.” He joked.
She looked back at him, barely holding in her grin. “You sleep with it?”
“Don’t piss me off.”
She laughed, full and unfiltered, the sound filling the apartment like it belonged there.
“Relax, it’s cute,” she teased, giving the plush one last squeeze. “Thank your sister. Adds personality.”
“Yeah, real intimidating,” he muttered.
“You? Intimidating?” she shot back. “Not with Hello Kitty watching over you, you’re not.”
He shook his head, a quiet laugh slipping out despite himself.
After browsing in the compact living room, the surprisingly filled cabinets of the kitchen, and even his irrelevant store room, Y/n was floating towards the room.
“…Alright,” she said, turning around mid-step and walking backwards, eyes locked on him. “What else are you hiding from me?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” he chuckled.
“Mhm. Sure.” She spun on her heel and headed toward the only closed door in the apartment. Jungkook clocked it immediately. Her fingers wrapped around the handle, pausing just for a second like she was giving him a chance to stop her. He didn’t.
“Bedroom?” she asked, glancing back at him, one brow raised.
Jungkook hummed.
She pushed the door open. The room wasn’t big. Same as the rest of the apartment. A bed that looked like it had been half-made and then abandoned, dark sheets slightly creased. A chair in the corner with clothes thrown over it like it had become a second closet. A low hum from the aircon. The faintest trace of his cologne lingering in the air stronger here than anywhere else. It felt private. No shit it was a bedroom. But it was like stepping into something she wasn’t supposed to see yet.
Y/n walked in slower this time. Her fingers brushed along the edge of the dresser. Her eyes scanned the space taking it in piece by piece like she was trying to understand him through it. Jungkook stayed by the door for a second before stepping in behind her watching. Always watching. Y/n turned slightly, glancing at the bed, then back at him. A small smile tugged at her lips.
“So… this is where you bring all your girls?” she asked lightly.
Jungkook scoffed immediately. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just asking.”
“No, you’re not.”
She huffed a quiet laugh, turning away again but her smile lingered. Her gaze drifted, slow and unhurried, until it caught on something.
A frame.
Small. Almost easy to miss if you weren’t looking properly. But she was. Y/n stepped closer, like something quiet and magnetic had hooked onto her and tugged. Her reflection slipped into the glass as she leaned in slightly, her face ghosting over the image beneath it.
What seemed like a younger Jungkook sat high on a man’s shoulders — tiny, almost, compared to the version of him she knew now. His hands clutched a trophy that looked too big, too heavy for him, but he held it like it was the most important thing in the world. His smile — wide, careless, untouched — split across his face like nothing had ever gone wrong for him before. The man beneath him looked just as proud.
Y/n’s fingers hovered just above the frame, not touching. Like she was afraid she might smudge something that mattered.
Behind her, Jungkook moved closer. He stepped right up behind her close enough that the warmth of him bled into her back. Close enough that his breath brushed faintly against her hair.
“That’s my dad,” he said. His voice was quieter than before but not closed off. Y/n didn’t turn. She let him speak.
“That was his first win I actually remember being at,” he continued, eyes fixed on the photo instead of avoiding it. “I was… what, six? Maybe seven.” A small breath left him, barely there, but it carried weight.
“He used to always call me his good luck charm.” The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “Wouldn’t put me down the whole night.” There was no bitterness in it. Just memory softened by time but still intact.
Y/n’s chest tightened in a way that wasn’t painful but filled.
“I see why you love him dearly,” she murmured. This time, Jungkook didn’t go quiet in that defensive way or brush it off with a joke. He stayed there and let it sit.
“Yeah,” he said after a beat. It felt like something he didn’t say out loud often, something he didn’t let people touch. And yet here he was, standing behind her, letting her look at it, letting her know.
Y/n’s eyes shifted slightly, catching the reflection of him. She turned slowly. Jungkook didn’t move an inch. He stayed exactly where he was, eyes already on her like he’d been waiting for her to turn. For a second, neither of them spoke. The air felt different here — quieter, heavier in a way that wasn’t suffocating. Y/n’s lips curved, soft but teasing, like she didn’t want to break it completely but she also wasn’t going to let it get too heavy.
“Well,” she said lightly, tilting her head up at him, “it’s the perfect picture to be framed.” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug.
“You could definitely have more framed pictures of maybe… y’know” her eyes flickered with mischief now, pulling them both back up from that depth just enough, “…me?”
Jungkook blinked. And just like that, the tension cracked. A quiet laugh slipped out of him, softer than his usual ones, like it still carried traces of what he’d just let her see.
“Already planning on decorating my place?” he muttered. Y/n stepped closer — closer than she already was — closing that last bit of space like it didn’t exist.
“Just saying,” she murmured, fingers hooking into the hem of his shirt. “It’d really upgrade the aesthetic.”
Jungkook looked down at her. “Yeah?” he said quietly.
“Yeah.”
Then his hand came up, brushing a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear — slow, deliberate, like he was learning the shape of her face through touch.
“Guess I’ll have to make some space then.”
Y/n smiled. And this time, it didn’t feel like she was stepping into his world. It felt like he was letting her stay.
By the time the sun started dipping, the whole apartment shifted. The light coming through the windows turned warm golden, soft, spilling across the bed in long stretches like it was trying to settle in with them.
Jungkook had one arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped loosely around Y/n, pulling her into his side. Her back rested against his chest, legs tangled with his under the blanket that was barely doing its job. Some movie played on the TV. Something loud. Metallic. Explosions, dramatic music, a guy building a suit. Neither of them were watching.
Y/n’s fingers were busy. They traced slowly along Jungkook’s hand starting at his knuckles where ink sat on his fingers like it belonged there, then dragging up the lines of his forearm. Light, curious, repeating paths like she was memorising him. Jungkook clocked it a while ago. He didn’t stop her, however. Watched her instead of the screen. The way her brows dipped slightly like she was concentrating. Her thumb pressed a little firmer over certain designs like she was trying to feel something under the ink.
“You interested?” he murmured, voice low, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips. Y/n didn’t even look up.
“Mm,” she hummed, tracing the edge of a design near his wrist. “Way more interesting than watching some guy spend two hours building a metal suit.”
Jungkook huffed. “It’s Iron Man.”
“I don’t give a shit if it’s Iron Man or Iron Auntie,” she muttered. “Your arm’s winning.” That pulled a real grin out of him.
His hand shifted on her shoulder, thumb brushing slow, absent circles.
“You like it that much?” he asked, voice softer now.
Y/n finally tilted her head back to look at him, lashes faintly brushing the top of her cheeks, eyes a little too focused for someone just messing around.
“I think I like the person it’s attached to more.”
That landed softly upon Jungkook’s tummy. Just sat there, somewhere under his ribs. His fingers tightened slightly at her shoulder before relaxing again.
“Careful,” he muttered. “You’re starting to sound like you’re in love with me.”
“Pfft—relax,” she scoffed lightly, but there was a smile sitting in it. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
Silence slipped back in. Y/n’s fingers slowed then stopped.
“Oh,” she said suddenly, pushing herself up slightly so she could look at him. “I just remembered,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“What?”
“I’ve got a fashionshow next Wednesday. Big one.” He watched her, listening. “I thought… you’d like to come?” she added, trying to sound casual but not entirely.
“Fuck…” he muttered.
Y/n’s brows pulled together slightly. “W-what?” He looked back at her, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck with a worried smile.
“As much as I’d love to see you all dressed up looking hot as fuck,” he said, lips twitching, “I promised Seoyeon I’d take her out.” He shot her a look of guilt.
“The Hello Kitty boss?”
Jungkook snorted. “Yeah. That one.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s okay,” she said easily. “You should spend time with her.”
He studied her face for a second, like he was double-checking she wasn’t secretly upset.
“You sure?”
Y/n shrugged with a nod. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m not fighting a kid over her brother.” That earned a quiet chuckle from him.
Jungkook’s gaze lingered on her for a beat longer, something softer settling in his expression. Then he leaned in slowly. His hand came up, fingers sliding along her jaw before cupping her cheek as his lips pressed against hers. Warm. Intentional. Not rushed. Y/n melted into it instantly. Her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer.
“Consider that my apology,” he murmured against her lips. She let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.
“Lame apology,” she whispered back. “You can do better than that, racer king.” Her fingers tugged at his dark locks. His eyes flickered.
“Oh yeah? You want better”
“Yeah…” Y/n gazed up past her lashes.
That was enough. The kiss deepened — not messy, not out of control — but heavier, slower. The kind that built instead of exploded.
His hand slid from her face to her waist, pulling her over him until she was half on top of him, bodies lining up like it made sense. Her other hand found his again, fingers slipping between his before drifting back to his wrist, his arm, tracing him like she couldn’t help it. Her feather like touches made Jungkook shudder.
“Keep doing that,” he muttered, breath starting to lose its rhythm, “and I’m banning you from touching me during movies.”
“You weren’t even watching,” she murmured against his lips.
“Was busy watching you, model.”
That made her pause just a second. Then she kissed him again. Softer. Jungkook’s thumb pressed into her waist.
Between the heated make out, his voice dropped, quieter. “She talks about you a lot, you know.” Y/n pulled back slightly, brows lifting.
“Seoyeon?”
“Mm,” he nodded, brushing his nose lightly against hers. “You’re basically her celebrity crush.”
Y/n let out a soft laugh that sent heat waves towards Jungkook’s lips. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah,” he smirked faintly. “Her standards are fucked now.”
“Then we should have dinner with her sometime,” she said, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ll behave… Be charming… Impress her.”
Jungkook huffed. “You? Behave?”
“Shut up,” she nudged him lightly. “You cook. I’ll show up and win her over.”
“Win her over?” he raised a brow.
“Obviously,” she grinned. “I need her approval if I’m gonna keep you.”
Now that made something in his chest tighten. Not in a bad way.
His grip on her waist tightened slightly. “You’ve already got me,” he murmured. Y/n’s smile softened.
“Good.”
And then she kissed him again — slow like she meant it.
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
“Stop moving.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
“I literally just blinked, Jin.”
“Yeah, and somehow your whole body followed.”
Y/n huffed, biting back a smile as she tried — actually tried — to stay still this time. Jin circled her, one hand smoothing down the side of her Saint Laurent suit while the other worked a needle through the fabric with precise and practiced movements. Pins tucked between his lips, brow furrowed — not stress, just locked-in focus.
The room around them buzzed. Stylists moving, racks rolling, voices arguing about style or who-knows-what. Expensive chaos. Controlled chaos.
Y/n stared at herself in the mirror. Sharp silhouette, hair pulled back, makeup just right. She looked like she had her shit together. She didn’t feel like it. Her fingers twitched at her side again.
“Y/n,” Jin warned without even looking up.
“I know, I know—fuck, okay, I’m still.” Silence fell between them for a beat. Comfortable. Familiar. Then—
“I’m seeing someone.”
It came out fast. Perhaps a little too fast. As if if she didn’t say it now, she’d chicken out later.
Jin didn’t look up. “Another actor, I presume?” he said casually, still focused on the stitching like this was just another Tuesday.
Y/n let out a short, awkward laugh. “Ah—hah—no, no… it’s…” she hesitated, the word lodged in her throat. “We’re dating now.” That got the slightest shift out of him. Not enough for anyone else in the room to notice. But she did.
“Yeah?” he said, still working, but slower now. “And… who is this poor guy you’ve decided to ruin?”
Y/n rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”
“Just asking.”
She inhaled. Held it. “…Jungkook.”
The needle stopped. Just stopped. Not dropped. Just froze mid-motion like his body needed a second to catch up with what he just heard. Y/n watched him through the mirror. Watched the exact moment it registered.
Jin cleared that small clump of saliva stuck in his throat and slowly pulled the needle through the fabric, finishing the stitch like he needed to complete something before actually reacting. Then he stepped back and looked up. Their eyes met through the mirror. And there it was, that look Jin always had when something didn’t sit right with him. Not anger, not even disappointment. Just a quiet kind of uncertainty. The kind that lingered in his eyes like he was already bracing for something to go wrong.
“You sure about… him?” he asked finally, voice low but sharp enough to slice through her chest.
“Yeah…” she said. “Yeah,” she repeated, almost too quickly, hoping it sounded convincing.
“You’ve been thrown around by your exes, Y/n. Treated like a—a ghost by some of them, like none even saw you. What if he’s the same? D-don’t forget the shit he said to you before.” Jin pointed his finger.
Her stomach dropped. Memory flashed. The words, the betrayal, the sting that never fully went away.
“And he’s your brother’s rival for God’s sake,” Jin continued, voice harder now, a little rawer. “Do you even realize what that means? He’s in the same damn circle, and shit gets messy fast. Fast and ugly.”
Y/n chewed her lip. “He… he has some issues…”
“Issues? Yeah, I can tell, and you’ve got patience of a saint, but you can’t fix him, Y/n. Don’t get me wrong—he’s not bad, he’s not like those… I guess… he’s not like those other assholes—but he’s got a lot of baggage. You’re smart. Don’t blind yourself because he smiles at you, or touches you, or says some cute shit you’ve been dying to hear.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Jin leaned closer, adjusting the hem of her jacket. “I don’t care how happy he makes you feel now, Y/n. I don’t want to see you crushed in the end. You’re too good to be treated like some background character in someone else’s drama. You get me?”
She nodded, swallowing a lump. “I get you. I promise. He’s… different. He stayed. He—he tries. He actually tries. He’s not the other ones.”
Jin studied her reflection, eyes narrowing, still scanning for doubt she didn’t want him to see. “Trying’s—is—is fine,” he muttered, “but don’t let trying be an excuse for bullshit. And if he ever—ever—does anything to hurt you… I will personally—”
Y/n snorted, biting back a laugh. “Yeah, yeah—you’ll rip him to shreds—got it.”
“Damn right I will,” he said. “Don’t think I won’t stand in the way if I have to. He may be your boyfriend, but I’m not gonna watch you get hurt for the sake of love. That’s my job as your best friend.”
Her chest tightened with warmth at his words but also slight reluctance. He cared in a way that wasn’t just friendship but family.
She smiled, letting herself relax a little. “Thanks, Jin. I… really mean it. He’s worth it.”
“Okay,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. “Because if he’s not, I’ll make sure he regrets ever looking at you.”
Y/n laughed softly. “You’re terrifying.”
“Thanks,” he said, finishing the stitching and slipping the pins into a container. “Now, enough boyfriend drama. Focus. Because this suit? Costs more than whatever the hell he drives.”
She shook her head, smiling to herself. Protective, terrifying, loving Jin. Always watching, always caring. And just like that, the news had landed better than she’d feared. Jin’s worry hadn’t turned to anger or judgment. Instead, it was cautious acceptance, the kind that made her heart swell a little. The sharing had gone well.
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
The car hummed steadily as Jungkook drove, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against his thigh to whatever song was playing low on the radio. Seoyeon sat beside him, legs swinging since they were still too short to touch the floor of the car, still buzzing from the day.
“That ride was not safe,” she said for the third time, clutching her drink. “Why was it shaking at the start like that? I almost died.”
Jungkook snorted. “You screamed before it even started.”
“I did not!”
“You did—you grabbed my arm and went ‘oppaaaa!’ before the seatbelt even clicked.”
“I was… getting ready!” she shot back, offended.
“Really? Sounded like a dying cat to me.”
“Stop it!” she smacked his arm, trying not to laugh.
He grinned, glancing at her briefly before looking back at the road. This, this was easy. No engines, no tension. Just her.
“You had fun though,” he said.
Seoyeon shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “M…maybe.”
“Liar.”
“Okay fine, I did,” she admitted, smiling. The low hum of the car came filling their ears again with the window displaying the long stretch of road ahead of them.
“Hey,” she said slowly. Jungkook hummed in response as his attention physically stayed on the road. Seoyeon frowned, looking at the dashboard, then the seats, then him. “This isn’t your car.”
Jungkook didn’t even flinch. “It is.”
“No, it’s not,” she said immediately. “The inside looks different. Also—your car smells weird. This one smells clean.”
He scoffed in utter disbelief. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s not yours,” she said, matter-of-fact.
“Where’s your car?”
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “At the garage.”
“Why?”
“Getting fixed.”
“Fixing what?”
“Engine stuff you wouldn’t know or care if I were to explain in detail.”
Seoyeon squinted at him. “That’s not an answer.”
“Well it’s the only one you’re getting,” he muttered. “Deal with it.” She kept staring at him for a second longer, clearly not convinced.
“So… whose is this?”
“Taehyung’s,” he said. “He’s got extras.”
She leaned back slowly. “And your car? I bet you crashed it.” A smug smile appearing on her lips.
“Did not.”
“Did,” she said, nodding to herself. “Or maybe your car got taken away by another car.”
“The word you’re looking for it towed.”Jungkook huffed. “ And no—my car wasn’t towed. Just drink your drink and stop being a busybody.”
“Fine.” She lifted the bottle to her lips again, still suspicious. And right then, the car hit a bump. “—eh—!” The drink spilled straight onto her shirt.
“Ah! Ey—oppa!” she shrieked, pulling the bottle away. “My shirt—ugh!”
Jungkook burst out laughing. “Watch what you’re doing, Yoyo.”
“You’re the one who hit the bump!” she snapped, looking down at the wet patch. “Why would you do that?!”
“Yeah, I planned it,” he said sarcastically. “Relax. There’s tissues in the glove box.”
“What’s a glove box—?”
“In front of you. Open it.”
She huffed and reached forward, popping it open. Stuff shifted around as her small hands buried itself in the sand of belongings. Receipts. Wrappers. A pen. Jungkook’s yellow-tinted sunglasses. She rummaged through it, muttering, “Why is your car so messy…”
“Don’t touch my stuff.”
“I’m only—”Her fingers paused.
Jungkook barely glanced over. “Found it?”
Seoyeon slowly pulled something out. Small, compact, and rectangular.
“Oppa… Why do you have lip gloss?”
Jungkook’s eyes flicked over for half a second — and yeah. There it was. The lipgloss that read ‘Dior’ that unmistakably was the property of Min Y/n.
He knew it. Of course he did. He remembered her voice clear as day — “I always forget to bring my lip gloss when I go out.” — and he had proposed to leave her lipgloss in his car so she’d always have it. And she did.
“It’s not mine,” he said, turning back to the road.
“Obviously” Seoyeon muttered, inspecting it. “Why would it be yours? Boys don’t wear lipgloss.” She flipped it over.
“Di… or?” Her tone changed. “Isn’t that that expensive shop?” Jungkook felt himself stiffen and throat go dry. “Why do you have Dior?” she asked slowly.
“I dunno,” he mumbled, a little too quick.
“It’s in your car.”
“I said it’s Taehyung’s car.”
“But you’re using it now. So whose is it?” she pressed, turning toward him.
Jungkook exhaled. “Someone left it.”
“Who?”
“No one.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Hah—again, it’s the one you’re gonna get.”
She stared at him. Then at the lip gloss. Then back at him. Her brain was working overtime.
“Mom told me before this shop is costs like billions of dollars. You don’t even have that much money to buy Dior,” she said bluntly.
Jungkook scoffed. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying,” she shrugged. “You wouldn’t buy this.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then?” Seoyeon dipped her brows where they clashed, shaking her head like that was going to get a real answer out from her brother.
A pause. Then, her eyes widened. Her brain had stringed the pieces together regardless of only being nine years old.
“You have a girl.”
Jungkook blinked. “Wha—no.” He countered. “Where did you even get that?”
“Yeah, you do,” she said immediately, pointing the lip gloss at him. “You have a secret girl!”
“I don’t have a secret anything.” Jungkook kept his gaze on the road and hands on the wheel.
“You do,” she insisted, leaning closer. “Wait—” She froze. “That time we had ice cream...”
Jungkook’s jaw ticked.
Shit.
“You talked about a—a girl,” she continued, eyes lighting up like she just solved a mystery. “You said you liked someone!”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did!” she argued. “Oppa—stop being annoying! You were being all weird and quiet and then you said there was someone!”
Jungkook ran a hand through his hair and released a sigh, “you remember too much...”
“I remember everything,” she said proudly. Then squinted at him. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
He stayed quiet. It unfortunately was the worst move Jungkook could do. Seoyeon gasped.
“Oh my god—it is!”
“Seoyeon—”
“You have a girlfriend! You have a girlfriend!” she teased in a song, way too excited. Her fingers pointing at Jungkook like a little dance, poking the air towards him.
“I don’t,” he said, but there was zero conviction. His smiling eyes were no help, contradicting his response.
“You do,” she nodded, fully convinced now. “You are lying—and you’re bad at lying.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” She gave a single nod that basically was a final confirmation.
He sighed, jaw tightening slightly. “It’s just someone,” he muttered. “It’s none your business, Yoyo.”
“That’s suspicious,” she shot back immediately.
Jungkook scoffed, ridiculed. “It’s not suspicious.”
“It is! You never have ‘just someone.’ You don’t even have friends you like that much.”
“Wow. Thanks. Wonder who’s Taehyung and Namjoon...”
“I’m not kidding!” she said. “You don’t let people in.”
That hit.
Jungkook finally glanced at her and yeah, she wasn’t joking anymore. No smug grin, no teasing spark. Just looking at him. Really looking. It caught him a little off guard like she’d somehow peeled away something he usually kept locked up tight. He blinked, throat tightening just enough to annoy him. He cleared it quickly, like that would fix anything, and turned his eyes back to the road. The streetlights blurred past in streaks, giving him something else to focus on, anything but her gaze.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even know what the hell he could say. And honestly? He didn’t want to go there. Not with her. The kind of conversation she was nudging at, it wasn’t light or easy. It was obviously a sensitive topic for him, asking for honesty he doesn’t give easily. So he stayed quiet, gripping the wheel a little tighter, letting the silence take over instead of risking saying something real.
“Well, is she… nice?” she asked, softer, as if she could radiate Jungkook’s discomfort.
An unnecessary pause.
“Yeah,” he said. Soft. Honest. “You’d like her.” Seoyeon’s expression softened just a little when Jungkook shot her a look.
“Does she know you’re annoying?”
Jungkook snorted at that as his head fell. “You could say that.”
“Okay good,” she nodded. “Then she’s real.”
He shook his head, a small smile slipping through despite himself.
The car slowed as they pulled into the driveway of a high-rise building Jungkook was familiar with. The engine quietened down when Jungkook twisted the keys. For a second, neither of them moved. Seoyeon held the lip gloss out to him.
“Give it back to her,” she said.
Jungkook took it, fingers brushing over it briefly. “Yeah yeah…”
She opened the door, then paused. “Don’t mess it up,” she added, looking back at him. Jungkook was already gazing back, arm on the small space of the console between them. A corner of his lips tweaked. He reached out and ruffled Seoyeon’s hair.
“I won’t…”
Seoyeon gave a subtle smile. Then she hopped out like she didn’t just drop something heavy on him.
Jungkook stayed there for a moment. The lip gloss sitting in his palm. Small. But somehow feeling like it meant everything. He quickly shoved it into his jean pocket and followed Seoyeon out of the car.
The apartment door wasn’t far from the lift — maybe ten steps at most — but the walk there felt longer than it should’ve. Jungkook’s boots landed heavy against the carpeted floor, each step dull and quiet, while Seoyeon’s lighter ones padded ahead of him, quick and restless. The faint rustle of his bomber jacket filled the silence in between, the only thing keeping the hallway from feeling too still and too tense.
Seoyeon reached the door first, already on her tiptoes, fingers stretching for the bell. Jungkook was still a few steps behind, slower, like something in him was dragging its feet on purpose. The chime echoed softly. Then the door clicked open.
“Mom, I’m home!” Seoyeon beamed, immediately stepping forward, her whole face lighting up as she threw herself into her mother’s arms.
Her mother let out a soft breath — relief, warmth, something that looked genuine — as she wrapped her arms around her daughter and held her close. Jungkook stood there still, watching. As if he wasn’t part of the picture.
Then, her head lifted for her eyes landed on him.
“Jungkook-ah…”
His jaw tightened almost immediately.
“I’m just here to drop Seoyeon off,” he said flatly, shifting his weight, hands buried deep in his pockets like he needed something to hold onto.
“Then I’m leaving.” His voice didn’t rise or crack. But it was closed off — clean, sharp like a door already shut.
His mother tilted her head slightly, something flickering across her face. Guilt, maybe? Or something that looked like it. Either one, Jungkook didn’t trust it.
“Jungkook-ah…” her voice softened, careful. “Just come in for dinner. I cooked your favourite. G-gochujang stew.” There was a small smile on her lips — fragile, almost hopeful — but it didn’t sit right with him. It felt rehearsed. Like she’d worn that expression too many times before.
Seoyeon turned too, still tucked under their mother’s hands, looking up at him with those same wide eyes.
“Please, oppa…”
And there it was. The one thing that made this harder than it needed to be.
Jungkook’s gaze dropped to her, his chest tightening just slightly. He hated that she was part of this. Hated that she didn’t even realise she was being used as the bridge he kept refusing to cross.
“You’ve been avoiding us for too long, Jungkook-ah,” his mother continued, voice quieter now. “I miss you. I—I know it’s not… easy to accept what happened to your fath—”
“No—see—this is why I hate being around you.” It snapped out of him before he could stop it. His hands that were stuffed in his pockets moved as well. His hands curled into fists inside his pockets, nails digging into his palms as his shoulders squared up, tension rising like heat under his skin.
“You always—always—bring him up,” he continued, voice tighter now, frustration bleeding through. “I’m trying to forget, okay? I’m trying to move on, but you won’t let me.” His words came out harsher than he planned, but he didn’t take them back. He couldn’t. His mother’s expression broke slightly.
“Jungkook—you can’t just… forget him like he was nothing!” her voice shook, cracking at the edges. “He’s your father!”
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over too quickly, like they’d been waiting there for a while. Her hands trembled slightly where they rested on Seoyeon’s shoulders.
Jungkook’s chest rose and fell heavier now. Because the worst part? She wasn’t wrong. And he knew it. But knowing didn’t make it easier. Didn’t make it hurt less.
“Then where is he, Mom…?” His voice dropped, now unsteady. His vision blurred as tears gathered, the hallway lights turning hazy around the edges. He blinked hard, but they slipped out anyway, trailing down his cheeks before he could stop them.
“Where… were you?” he asked, voice tightening, breaking just ever so slightly. He pointed downward, finger trembling — not at her or anything specific. Just… somewhere. Anywhere.
“Where were you… when he was gone?”
His mother’s breath hitched, a broken sound escaping her lips as her hand flew up to cover her mouth, like she could physically hold the grief in.
“I needed you,” Jungkook said, louder now. His rawness and hurt was obvious. Years of it, packed into one sentence. His throat burned, chest tight like something was clawing its way out of him, something he’d buried too deep for too long.
“So how…” he swallowed hard, voice shaking now, “how do you expect me to be okay with him being gone… when you weren’t even there when I needed you?”
Silence fell. Heavy and suffocating. The kind that pressed into your ears until it rang, giving the discomfort.
His mother cried quietly now, shoulders shaking, her hand still covering her mouth like she was afraid of how loud it might get if she let go.
Seoyeon stood between them, not daring to even move a pinky. Confused. She was caught in something she didn’t fully understand but could feel anyway.
And Jungkook? Jungkook just stood there, breathing hard, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a race he didn’t sign up for.
He hated this. Hated how it made him feel. Hated that no matter how far he ran, it always caught up to him anyway.
Jungkook dragged a hand through his hair, rough, like he was trying to wipe the whole conversation off his body. His chest still felt tight like the air in the hallway wasn’t enough. For a second — just a second — his eyes dropped to Seoyeon again.
Her fingers were still curled lightly into their mother’s sleeve, but her eyes were on him. Wide. Quiet. Processing. And fuck — that almost made him stay. Nearly made him step forward, sigh, rub the back of his neck and go, fine… just dinner… just tonight…
But then, he looked up at his mother. At the tears. At the same conversation that never fucking changed. And something in him just…closed. Jungkook let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly.
“I didn’t come here for this.” His voice was quieter now. “I just came to drop her off.”
“Jungkook—” his mother stepped forward slightly.
He stepped back just as fast. That small movement said more than anything else could’ve. A line drawn.
“I’m not ready,” he said, more to the space than directly to her. His jaw tightened. “And you don’t get to decide when I should be.”
His mother’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Because what could she say to that?
Seoyeon’s grip tightened slightly on her sleeve.
“Oppa,” she called softly. That one word hit differently. Always did.
Jungkook looked at her again, and this time, he forced a small smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was there. For her and only her.
“Go inside, yeah?” he said, gentler now. “It’s getting late.”
She hesitated. “Are you gonna come next time?”
There it was. Hope.
Jungkook’s throat tightened. He didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t at least. He knew his true answer would’ve disappointed her.
“Next time,” he said finally. The word he abuses the shit out of.
Seoyeon nodded slowly, like she understood more than she should. “Okay...”
Jungkook reached out, ruffling her hair lightly — his usual move, muscle memory at this point. A small, familiar gesture in the middle of something that felt anything but. Then he pulled his hand back and stepped away.
His mother said his name again. Softer this time. “Jungkook…”
He paused. Just for a second. Back still facing them. You could almost feel the war in him — stay or go, look back or don’t, say something or shut the hell up. In the end, he didn’t turn around.
“Stop using him every time you want me to come back,” he muttered, low and tired. Not angry anymore. Then he walked. Boots heavy against the carpet again, each step quicker than before like he needed distance now before something in him cracked open too far.
The hallway swallowed him up. And just like that, he was gone.
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
Jungkook sat on the couch with Y/n tucked close to his side, his arm draped over her shoulders like it had just ended up there without much thought. His fingers were loosely intertwined with hers, absentmindedly fidgeting, brushing, tracing. It wasn’t intentional, not really. Just something his body did when she was near. She fit against him easily like she’d been made to stay there next to him.
“So…” Y/n spoke after a while, her voice softer in the quiet, but still carrying that familiar teasing edge. “I’m guessing the night went well then?”
Jungkook let out a quiet breath, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand unconsciously. His gaze stayed forward, unfocused.
“You could… say that,” he muttered. “Wasn’t exactly peaceful, but… yeah.”
Y/n tilted her head slightly, studying him from where she rested against him. She could feel it — the tension still sitting in his body, the way his arm around her wasn’t as relaxed as it usually was after she’d asked.
“Kook…” she said gently.
He hummed in response, low, almost distracted. She shifted then, pulling away from his side just enough to turn. Her whole body angled toward him, legs tucked under slightly as she faced him properly now. His arm slipped off her shoulders in the process, and for a split second, he missed the warmth before he adjusted, resting his hand on his thigh instead.
“You promised you wouldn’t avoid me,” she said, her tone still soft but firmer now, grounding. “And that doesn’t just mean disappearing… physically. It also means when something’s going on up here—” she tapped lightly at his temple, “—you don’t just deal with it alone.”
Jungkook huffed quietly, the corner of his lips twitching. “Bossy,” he murmured.
“I’m serious,” she said, nudging his knee with hers. “You don’t get to fall for me and then shut me out when things get messy. That’s not how this works.”
That hit harder than he expected.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah… I remember,” he said, quieter.
“Mhm.” She held his gaze. “So tell me. What happened?”
Jungkook looked at her for a second, then away again, jaw tightening slightly as he leaned back into the couch.
“I…” He paused, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, his fingers tapping once against his thigh.
God, he wasn’t used to this shit.
“My mom… tried to get me to stay for dinner,” he said finally. “Kept insisting. I… didn’t.”
Y/n’s expression softened. “Can I ask why?” she said gently. “Or is that one of those things you’re still figuring out how to say?”
He let out a breath. She leaned a little closer, her hand naturally finding his again where it rested on his thigh, her fingers slipping between his. Jungkooks eyes dropped to their hands for a second.
“Jungkook—if you’re not comfortable yet, you do—”
“My mom was a drunk.”
The words came out blunt, flat.
Y/n didn’t react immediately. Not a flinch, no rushed sympathy. She just listened, her thumb slowly brushing over his knuckles. And that made it easier.
“When my dad… died,” he continued, voice lower now, “she… wasn’t exactly there. Not in the way I needed her to be.” He shifted slightly, shoulders tensing before relaxing again.
“She’d come home late. Sometimes not at all. Always smelling like alcohol, barely making sense… asking me where my dad was like I could just fucking fix it for her.”
Y/n’s fingers tightened slightly around his.
“She was pregnant with Seoyeon back then. I was nineteen,” he went on. “Tried to get her to stop drinking. She wouldn’t listen. I’d take the bottles, she’d go out and get more. Different day, same bullshit” His jaw clenched briefly before loosening again.
“She’d cry and ask for him over and over again,” he added, quieter now. “And I’d just stand there like an idiot, not knowing what the hell I was supposed to do.”
Y/n’s chest tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I got tired,” he said, letting out a breath. “Not even angry. Just… fucking exhausted.” His voice nearly cracked. “After Seoyeon was born and I turned twenty, I left. Stayed with Namjoon for a bit, then got my own place. That was it.”
A small pause.
“I still go back sometimes,” he added. “But only for Seoyeon.”
Y/n nodded slightly, her thumb still moving gently against his skin which Jungkook found comforting, thank goodness.
“I couldn’t let her grow up thinking she had no one,” he said. “Not knowing her dad already is bad enough. I didn’t want her thinking her brother disappeared too.”
Silence settled between them, softer this time.
“You know that makes you a really good brother, right?” she said.
Jungkook huffed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I try.”
“No,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “You do more than that. You show up. Even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it hurts—you still go back for her. That’s what matters.”
He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped again, something in his chest tightening and loosening at the same time.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
Y/n shifted closer without thinking, fingers resting on his cheek gently. Her touch was warm and grounding, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin.
“And I’m really proud of you,” she added softly.
Jungkook blinked, caught off guard. His brows pulled together slightly.
“For what?”
“For not shutting me out just now,” she said. “For actually telling me instead of… brushing it off with some dumb excuse. That’s huge for you, Kook.”
A small smile crept onto his face, slow and real.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Hyping me up for doing the bare minimum.”
“Uh, excuse you,” she scoffed lightly. “For you, that’s not bare minimum. That’s character development.”
He snorted quietly, shaking his head. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
That pulled a soft laugh out of him, the tension in his shoulders easing, his chest finally feeling like it wasn’t packed so tight. And somewhere in that moment, things shifted.
They were close already, but now it felt different. His gaze lingered on her a second longer than it should have. Her hand was still on his cheek. Their faces too close. Jungkook’s eyes flicked down to her lips before returning to her eyes slowly. His hand moved almost on instinct, sliding from his thigh back to her waist where his fingers curved slightly as he pulled her closer into him again like he didn’t want that distance from earlier.
“Y/n…” he murmured, voice quieter now, rough around the edges.
She didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned in just a little more. She was intrigued. Their noses nearly brushed. He swallowed, searching her face like he needed permission even though the way she was looking at him already gave it.
“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” he said softly with an almost unbelievable huff while pushing back the fronts of her hair behind her ear.
Y/n’s expression softened instantly, something warm blooming wide in her chest. She felt as though an infection was spreading gradually. Her hand slid from his cheek to the back of his neck. Her fingers feeling warmth.
“You let me in,” she whispered. “That’s enough.”
And that was it. Jungkook closed the distance. The kiss was soft, careful, like he was still figuring out how to hold something this gentle without breaking it. Jungkook’s lips moved slowly against hers. It was far more loving from their first kiss with the sync of their lips puckering against one another.
Y/n melted into it. Almost immediately actually. Her hand tightened slightly at the back of his neck as she leaned closer, her body fitting against his again. Jungkook’s back softly hit the couch. His grip on her waist tightened, just a little, pulling her flush against him. His hands, always so sure when wrapped around a steering wheel, the feeling felt almost similar when sliding up her sides, fingertips tracing the dip of her waist like he was mapping her. The kiss deepened naturally, unhurried but heavier now, carrying everything Jungkook didn’t know how to say out loud. And for the first time that night, his head was quiet.
The kiss didn’t break. It was a mere shift. What started soft and careful intensified. Their lips brushing again and again like neither of them really wanted to be the one to pull away.
Y/n felt his breath hitch when she swung her leg over him, settling into the heat between his thighs. Her knees pressed into the worn cushion beside his thigh. The couch groaned under them, the sound muffled against the mix of Jungkook’s quiet exhale and lip smacking sounds. Jungkook’s thumb pressed lightly into her waist as he tilted his head just slightly, deepening it without rushing and making Y/n let out a quiet breath into his mouth. Their noses bumped faintly, a small, clumsy thing that made the moment feel even more real. His palms smoothed up her back, fingertips pressing into the notches of her spine before drifting lower. The moment his hands cupped her ass, squeezing just enough to pull a gasp from her.
“Shit—Kook,” she sighed, hot.
Jungkook laughed — a soft, breathless sound that vibrated against her mouth.
“My bad,” he murmured, lips grazing hers as he spoke. “You just—mhm” He didn’t finish, just let his words melt into Y/n’s lips when his found hers again.
“You’re slowly making me go crazy, Y/n…” Jungkook whispered. Then, a quick peck before Y/n parted their lips again on his.
"Take me to your bedroom," Y/n whispered against his mouth, the words barely audible, more breath than sound.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to watch her face — her pupils blown wide, lips swollen from his kisses — but there was that flicker of hesitation in his grip, the way his fingers flexed against her hips like he was holding himself back.
This was rare. For him at least.
"You sure?" he asked, voice rough, thumb brushing the curve of her waistband like he was trying to assure her that speed wasn’t what he needed now. Only her.
"Fuck—yes, I'm sure," she murmured all breathy, and that was all it took.
His arms locked around her thighs as he stood in one fluid motion, her legs wrapping around his waist like she'd done it a thousand times before. A soft giggle slipping from her swollen lips. The couch creaked in the process as he stepped away, but neither of them noticed, now again too busy chasing each other's mouths like they were drowning in the taste of one another.
Jungkook's bedroom was dim, the only light slipping in from the half-closed blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets as he carelessly kicked the door shut behind them. He laid her down gently — something that was uncommon for him. Girls loved it when he’d push them down or throw their small figures while he towers.
No. Jungkook didn’t want to treat Y/n like that. His big hands were there, bracing Y/n’s back and thigh like she was a porcelain doll that could shatter easily. Y/n felt her plush thighs sinking into the cushy mattress while still having the warmth of her lovers’ lips on hers. Jungkook pulled back slightly. He gazed into her eyes with pure concern and was it… love?
"Still good?" he asked, and god, the way his voice sounded hot on those two words nearly undid her.
Y/n reached up to curl her fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss. Her lips twitched upward.
"Stop thinking so much," she breathed, dipping her brows toward her nose and not breaking eye contact. “Thought you’d be more confident considering hooking up is your specialty.” She giggled.
Jungkook rolled his eyes so hard she could practically hear it, but before she could tease him further, he shut her up by carrying her further onto the bed and then plummeted a kiss — messy at first, all teeth and breathless laughter, then deeper when his tongue slid against hers in a slow, deliberate drag that made her toes curl and legs brushing his sides.
“Confidence isn’t the fucking issue,” he muttered against her mouth before trailing his lips down her chin and towards exposed shoulder, teeth grazing skin just hard enough to pull a gasp from her.
“It’s you.” His voice was wrecked, like the admission had been dragged out of him.
“You’re…” He didn’t finish, just pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of her throat, his breath hot and unsteady against her pulse.
Y/n arched into him. “I’m what?” she challenged, breathless.
Jungkook laughed, a low, rough sound. “A goddamn distraction.”
His hands slid under her top, palms skating up her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts in a way that made her shudder. His lips started nipping at her collarbone.
“Always fucking thinking about you when I should be focused on the road.”
She’d expected slick arrogance — something practiced or easy. Not this raw, clumsy honesty. It made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t name, like her ribs were too tight for her heart.
Jungkook's fingers hesitated before they curled into the hem of her black off-the-shoulder top. His knuckles brushing against the warm skin of her stomach as he peeled it up slowly. So slow, she could feel the fabric drag against her ribs, her waist, and the swell of her clothed breasts before finally slipping over her head. The heaving of Y/n’s chest was now more intense and obvious. Just the curve of her cleavage could’ve genuinely cause Jungkook to lose his balance atop of her. His hot breath ragged.
"Tell me," he murmured, "if you want me to stop."
The admission hung between them—uncharacteristically cautious for someone who'd built a reputation on not caring. Y/n traced the tense line of his jaw, the way his teeth clenched like he was holding himself back by sheer willpower alone.
"No…” she whispered, eyes pouring into his. Jungkook gulped. “Don’t stop.”
Y/n smashed her lips onto Jungkook’s while she reached back, arching a little to unclasp her black, strapless, satin bra before throwing it behind Jungkook to which he didn’t bother to watch it being discarded. He had his attention on something else now.
Without taking her eyes off his face, she guided his hands higher until his palms cupped her bare breasts. Jungkook’s gaze followed the entire way up. His thumbs circling her nipples in slow, maddening strokes as his fingers regained its memory of kneading a woman’s breast.
“Holy—fuuck…” His hips jerked against hers involuntarily. His eyes found hers again.
“Touch me however you want… I’m yours.”
Her claim got the man grinning like an idiot.
Now with his usual confidence and natural instincts kicking back in, his head dived down to one of Y/n’s boobs, sucking the nipple as the cold metal of his piercing sent chills down Y/n spine. His inked hand cups the other side and played with it like a stress ball. His thumb flickering its tip from time to time. Y/n’s fingers clamped strands of his messy hair. Her head tilts back as a low moan came out of her.
“Fuck, baby. Love these perky tits.” He groaned while squishing them. Another moan slipping from Y/n’s lips.
Jungkook’s mouth was quick to move to the other side and repeated the same thing. Y/n’s nipples were now all glistening with saliva and red from Jungkook’s harsh tugging.
As much as Jungkook enjoyed Y/n’s breasts, there was more waiting.
“Take your pants off,” he commanded. Y/n followed, her fingers already unfastening the button of her jeans and tugging them down before kicking it off her feet.
Jungkook slowly pushed himself off of her, eyes not leaving hers. By the time Y/n’s bottoms were off, she was in time to see Jungkook reaching back to pull his sweater off over his head.
Holy shit did he look like he was built by the bare hands of a greek god. His chiselled but subtle abs looked like they were permanent dents. Y/n was desperate to rake her hands down them and maybe — no — definitely lick them.
As if Jungkook could read Y/n’s mind, he crawled back on top of her and took her hand towards his intricate abs and let them drag downwards. She could feel the lines and muscles that felt more like stone beneath her palm. A breathy laugh came out from her.
“Like’em?”
“Fucking obsessed,” she whispered shaking her head, ridiculed.
His mouth found its way back to hers. Meanwhile, his fingers got busy with his own jeans. They couldn’t see it, but the sounds of buttons popping and fabric moving was enough to know that Jungkook and Y/n were left in their underwear. Jungkook immediately attended to Y/n’s underwear, tugging them down. When the fabric finally gave way, Jungkook exhaled, his gaze dragging down her body with something akin to reverence.
"Christ," he breathed, fingertips skating over the dip of her navel, the sharp jut of her hipbones.
"You're fucking unreal." The words weren't practiced flirtation, they tumbled out rough. Y/n arched into his touch, chasing the heat of his palms as they mapped her thighs.
He didn't rush. Every brush of his lips was deliberate. The way he nipped down her inner thigh before soothing it with his tongue, the agonizingly slow drag of his teeth along her sensitive skin. When his mouth finally found her in between her legs, wet and hot and devastatingly patient, Y/n's back bowed off the mattress with a choked cry. Jungkook chuckled against her, the vibration shooting straight to her core.
"Easy," he murmured, hands splaying across her hips to pin her down. "I got you."
Jungkook’s mouth was unhurried, his tongue tracing patterns that made her thighs tremble, his hands anchoring her hips to the mattress with a grip just shy of bruising. There was nothing rushed about the way he tasted her. No hurried, practiced motions like she’d expected from someone with his reputation. Instead, he lingered, as if savouring and memorizing the way she gasped when he sucked just right. The way her fingers twisted in his hair when he dragged his teeth lightly over her skin. It was maddening but it was also perfect. His breaths were uneven against her skin, his shoulders tense like he was holding himself back from devouring her whole.
“Jungkook…” When she whimpered his name, his grip tightened, a ragged groan vibrating through him as if her pleasure was something sacred, something worth worshiping.
The moment Jungkook's tongue dragged slow and deliberate over her clit, Y/n's vision blurred white at the edges.
“Kook—aggh!” His name tore from her throat, raw and shattered, as he curled two fingers inside her with a twist that had her thighs clamping around his head.
He didn't stop — couldn't stop — not when she arched into him with a whimper that sounded more like a plea than anything else. The wet heat of his mouth was relentless, each flick of his tongue sending sparks up her spine until she was trembling, her fingers twisted so tight in his hair it had to hurt. He groaned against her like he loved it.
"Fuck—Jungkook—" Her voice broke on a gasp when he sucked just right, the pressure building so fast she couldn't think or breathe.
His fingers crooked deeper, stroking that spot inside her with a precision that felt criminal, and she swore she saw stars.
"I can't—I'm gonna—" The words dissolved into a moan so loud, she barely recognized her own voice.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to smirk up at her, his lips glistening, his pupils blown black with want.
"Yeah?" he murmured, voice rough, breath hot against her skin.
"Then cum for me." And then his mouth was on her again, lips sealing over her clit as his fingers pumped faster and harder.
She shattered. The orgasm ripped through her like a live wire, her back bowing off the bed as she cried out, her thighs shaking around his shoulders. Jungkook didn't let up, drawing out every last second of it until she was wrung out, her chest heaving. Only then did he finally lift his head, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh since he couldn't bear to pull away completely.
Jungkook didn’t move, just stayed there, kneeling between her thighs with his lips still pressed to her skin, his breaths hot and uneven. Y/n’s chest rose and fell in small gasps, her fingers slackening in his hair but not letting go. His tongue dragged one last slow, lazy stroke up her slit, and she whimpered, oversensitive but still arching into him, still wanting.
"Ngmhm," Jungkook hummed against her, his voice rough with amusement and something darker, something hungry. He kissed her inner thigh again, then higher, his lips trailing up to the crease of her hipbone.
"You gonna let me take my time with you, or are you gonna rush me?"
Y/n huffed a laugh, breathless and wrecked. "Says the guy who races for a living."
Jungkook grinned, all sharp edges and sinful intent, before dipping his head back between her legs. This time, he didn’t tease. Just licked into her with a groan that vibrated against her skin. Jungkook’s tongue was a sin all its own — broad and hot and relentless, lapping at her like he had all the time in the world. Y/n’s head thudded back against the pillow, her thighs trembling as his mouth worked her open, slow and filthy and relentless. Every flick of his tongue and every suck at her clit had her gasping his name like a prayer. He didn’t stop. Didn’t rush. Just hummed against her, the vibration making her gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets as he took her apart like he knew every inch of her body better than she did.
"God—Kook," she moaned, voice cracking as his lips sealed around her clit, sucking just hard enough to make her thighs shake. His fingers, still slick from inside her, traced lazy circles on her hip, teasing, possessive. Like he wanted her to feel every second of this, to remember exactly who was ruining her.
"That’s it," he murmured, breath hot against her inner thigh before dragging his mouth back up, tongue flattening against her in one slow, filthy stroke. "Let me hear you."
She did. Loudly. Her moans spilled unchecked, ragged and broken as he worked her toward the edge again, his lips and tongue and fingers all moving in perfect, devastating rhythm. Every suck, every twist of his fingers inside her was calculated, like he’d mapped out every way to wreck her and was determined to try them all.
Jungkook’s tongue traced slow, deliberate circles around her clit, the pressure just shy of unbearable, and Y/n’s fingers clenched in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against her. The sound vibrated through her, sending another wave of pleasure crashing up her spine. She gasped, thighs trembling as he sucked lightly, then harder, alternating until she was writhing beneath him, her breaths coming in ragged pants.
"Fuck—Jungkook!" Her voice broke on a moan as he slid two fingers back inside her, curling them just right, hitting that spot that made her vision blur. His lips sealed around her clit again, sucking in time with the thrust of his fingers, and she arched off the bed with a cry, her hips lifting helplessly into his mouth. He didn’t let up, didn’t give her a second to recover, just kept driving her higher.
She could feel him watching her, his dark eyes flicking up to catch every twitch of her expression, every gasp that spilled from her lips. There was something unbearably intimate in the way he studied her, like he was memorizing the way she fell apart just for him. When her thighs started shaking uncontrollably, he eased off slightly, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh before dragging his tongue back up in one long, slow stroke.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with arousal, his breath hot against her skin. "So fucking perfect like this." His fingers curled deeper, and she whined, oversensitive but still craving more, still arching into his touch. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver through her.
“Argh—love it when you fall apart like this for me.” Jungkook growled huskily.
Y/n’s fingers tightened in Jungkook’s hair, tugging him up before he could tease her further. His lips were slick with her, his breathing ragged, and she didn’t give him a second to protest just crushed her mouth to his, tasting herself on his tongue. He hummed into the kiss, his body shuddering as her free hand slid down his chest, fingertips tracing the hard lines of his abs before dipping lower, brushing the strained fabric of his jeans.
Jungkook whimpered against her lips — a broken, breathless sound that sent heat spiraling through her. His hips jerked forward instinctively, chasing the friction of her touch, and she could feel the way his entire body tensed like he was barely holding himself together. She palmed him through his pants, feeling the thick length of him straining against the denim, and he shuddered, his kiss turning messy, desperate. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between them.
“Fuck,” he gasped when she flicked open the button of his jeans, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. His cock jumped in her hand, hot and heavy, and his forehead dropped to hers as she stroked him once, slow and teasing.
“Y/n—a—ahh..” His voice cracked, his breath coming in ragged bursts and she could feel the way his thighs trembled, the way his entire body tensed under her touch.
She kissed him again, swallowing his moans. Her thumb swiping over the slick head of him before she tightened her grip just slightly, twisting her wrist on the upstroke the way she knew would make him unravel. Jungkook’s hips stuttered, his fingers tightening on her skin hard enough to leave marks. He broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, his forehead pressing against hers as his breath came in short, uneven pants.
With one fluid motion, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and shoved them down, kicking them off somewhere behind him.
The air between them crackled, thick with anticipation, as her fingers finally wrapped around him fully, skin to skin. He was hot and heavy in her palm, his pulse thudding visibly beneath her touch. Jungkook’s breath hitched, his lashes fluttering as he bit down on a groan, his hips twitching forward again.
“Ahh shit,” he breathed as her thumb swiped over the head of him, smearing the slickness there. His fingers tightened on her waist, nails digging into her skin.
His mouth crashed back into hers, messy and desperate, but then — just as suddenly — he pulled back, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently before releasing it. His eyes, dark and liquid with want, locked onto hers, unblinking. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, her grip tightening reflexively around him.
Jungkook pulled away from her grip reluctantly, his fingers trailing down her thigh as he leaned over the edge of the bed toward the nightstand. The drawer rattled when he yanked it open, his breathing still uneven. His muscles taut with restraint. Y/n watched the flex of his shoulders as he rummaged inside, the dim light catching the sweat-slicked curve of his shoulder before he straightened with a foil packet pinched between his fingers.
Her hand shot out before he could tear it open, fingers wrapping around his wrist. Jungkook stilled, brow furrowing as he glanced down at her until she tugged his arm back toward her, shaking her head once.
His breath caught. The smirk that curled his lips was slow, dangerous, his eyes darkening with understanding.
"You naughty model," he rasped, the word rough with disbelief and something hotter, hungrier.
The condom hit the floor, forgotten, as Jungkook surged forward, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that tasted like recklessness and salt. His hands slid under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly . Her legs fell open wider for him. He groaned against her lips when the tip of his cock brushed against her, already slick from his mouth. Y/n shuddered at the contact, her nails digging into his shoulders.
Jungkook didn’t push in. Not yet. Instead, he rocked forward just enough to tease, the head of his cock dragging through her wetness in slow, torturous strokes, catching on her clit with every other pass.
Y/n inhaled a sharp breath, her hips jerking up instinctively but he held her down with one broad hand splayed across her stomach, his grip firm but not unkind.
"Easy," he murmured, his voice wrecked, his smirk softening into something almost tender as he watched her face.
"You want it like this? Then let me fucking savor you. Feel your walls wrap around my bare cock." Jungkook growled, his voice rough with restraint as he pressed forward, the thick head of his cock stretching her inch by torturous inch.
Y/n's fingers dug into his biceps, her breath hitching as he filled her slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring the way her body yielded to his. She gasped when he bottomed out, her thighs trembling around his hips, her nails biting into his skin.
"Fuck—you're big," she yelped, her voice breaking on a moan as she tilted her hips, trying to take him deeper.
Jungkook groaned, his forehead dropping to hers, his breath hot against her lips.
"You feel—" His voice cracked, his hips twitching forward involuntarily, and she whimpered, oversensitive but arching into him anyway.
"Fuck, Y/n, you feel perfect." He dragged his lips along her jaw, his teeth grazing her pulse point before he sucked lightly, marking her in a way that sent heat pooling low in her stomach.
When he pulled back to look at her, his dark eyes were nearly black with want, his pupils blown wide. "You okay?" he rasped, his thumb brushing over her hipbone, his touch achingly gentle despite the way his body trembled with restraint.
Y/n nodded, biting her lip as she rolled her hips experimentally, drawing a choked groan from him. "M-move," she breathed, her voice shaking.
"Please—Jungkook, move."
He didn’t need to be told twice. Jungkook’s hips snapped forward, driving into her with a sharp, deep thrust that punched a moan from her lungs. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he set a punishing pace, his grip on her hips tight enough to bruise. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with her whimpers and his ragged breaths, the headboard rattling against the wall with every snap of his hips.
Jungkook swore under his breath, his rhythm faltering for a moment when she clenched around him.
"Jesus—you’re gonna kill me," he gritted out, his forehead dropping to hers again, his breath hot and uneven against her lips. His thrusts slowed, growing deeper, more deliberate, each one dragging against that spot inside her that had her seeing stars.
“A-ahghh Jungkook!” She gasped his name.
"Louder," he demanded roughly, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.
"Let me hear you."
And when she did — when she moaned his name like a prayer, her voice breaking on every other syllable — he groaned like it was the best sound he’d ever heard.
His mouth crashed into hers, swallowing her cries as his hips pistoned faster, harder. His cock hitting that spot inside her with every thrust until she was writhing beneath him, her nails raking down his back.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to watch her face, his dark eyes tracing every flicker of pleasure that crossed her features.
"Y/n…" he panted, his voice wrecked, his hips never stopping their relentless pace.
Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, barely, her lashes heavy as she tried to focus on him. Her breathing came in soft, uneven pulls, chest rising against his.
Y/n stilled for a moment, her brows pulling together slightly, something aching in her chest at the way he said it. Not as a demand, not even a question… just fear laid bare.
Her hands came up instinctively, cupping his face, grounding him there. Her thumbs brushed gently along his cheeks, slow and steady.
“Please…”
“I won’t,” she said, shaking her head slightly, her fingers tightening just a little against his skin.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh under it, like he didn’t quite believe how he got this lucky, his forehead dipping closer to hers for a second before he leaned in again, pressing his lips to hers.
"Cum for me.”
His hand slid between them, his thumb brushing over her clit in quick, firm circles, and that was all it took.
“Mhmp—shit—I’m close!” Y/n shattered with a cry, her back bowing off the bed as the orgasm ripped through her, her vision whiting out at the edges.
Jungkook groaned her name, his hips stuttering as her walls clenched around him, his thrusts growing erratic.
"Fuck, Y/n!" His voice cracked, his fingers digging into her hips as he chased his own release, his rhythm falling apart.
Jungkook's hips stuttered against hers, his rhythm unraveling as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. The moment he felt her clench around him — wet and pulsing — his breath tore from his lungs in a ragged gasp.
"Fuck—fuck—" His fingers dug into her waist, hard enough to bruise, his entire body trembling with restraint.
With a sharp inhale, he wrenched himself out of her, his cock slick and glistening. The sudden loss of heat made him groan, but he didn't stop —couldn't stop.
His fist wrapped around himself in one rough stroke. Jungkook’s release hit her skin in hot, long, uneven stripes. His low grunts muffled against the curve of her neck as his body shuddered through the aftershocks. His breath came ragged, his forehead pressed to her collarbone like he couldn’t bear to lift his head just yet. Y/n watched the rise and fall of his shoulders, the way his muscles trembled with exhaustion and lingering pleasure, his fingers still gripping her hip like she might slip away if he let go. She traced idle circles on his sweat-slicked back, her own heartbeat slow and satisfied.
The air smelled like salt and sex, the quiet between them thick with breathes slowing down. Jungkook exhaled sharply against her skin, then lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze. His pupils were still blown wide, his lips swollen from kissing her, and the sight sent a lazy thrill through her.
“Messy,” she murmured, nodding toward the sticky heat cooling on her stomach.
Jungkook chuckled against her lips, a breathless, boyish sound that made her stomach flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the aftershocks still humming through her body.
“Sorry bout that. Couldn’t cum inside.” He smiled. His nose bumped hers when he pulled back slightly, their breaths mingling in the quiet between them.
“Not yet,” he suddenly added making Y/n weakly push his shoulder with her palm.
"How are you?" he murmured, voice rough like gravel but softer than she'd ever heard it — like he wasn't just asking about the sex, but about her.
Y/n combed her fingers through the damp strands of hair at the nape of his neck, her other arm looped loosely around his shoulders.
"I loved it," she admitted, watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
He dipped his head to kiss her again, slower this time, lingering like he was memorizing the taste of her. She could feel the lazy drag of his lips curving into another grin when she sighed into it, her fingers tightening in his hair. Jungkook pulled back just enough to nudge her leg with his, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"You're gonna be trouble, aren't you?"
She laughed, the sound bright and startled out of her, and Jungkook's grin widened like he'd won something. He shifted his weight onto one elbow, his free hand tracing idle patterns along her ribcage. The pads of his fingers were calloused from gripping steering wheels too tight, but the way they skimmed over her skin was almost reverent.
Jungkook’s lips curved against hers, the kiss dissolving into something breathless and giddy as their laughter mingled. Y/n’s arms tightened around his neck, her fingers threading through the damp strands at his nape while he nuzzled her cheek, his nose brushing hers in a way that felt stupidly, impossibly tender for someone who’d just fucked her into the mattress.
He pulled back again. This time, he couldn’t help his eyes. Like they had a mind of their own, they tracked down between their bodies, his gaze mostly on Y/n’s nudity.
"You’re staring," she murmured, thumbing away a bead of sweat near his temple.
"Can’t help it," he admitted, voice rough but warm, his gaze flicking over her face like he was cataloging every detail — the way her lashes fanned against her cheeks, the pink still high on her skin.
His thumb traced the curve of her bottom lip, slow, wondering. "You’re kinda breathtaking like this."
Y/n scoffed, but her chest did something stupidly fluttery. "Smooth talker."
Jungkook grinned, his lips brushing hers as he murmured, "Yeah?" like he couldn't quite believe it.
Jungkook’s lips trailed slow, unhurried kisses down her chest, each brush of his mouth warmer than the last. When he reached her nipples, he lingered — sucking lightly, then softer, his tongue swirling in a way that made her sigh and arch into him even though she was spent.
“I should hide my tits from you.”
His chuckle vibrated against her skin, affectionate and low, before he pressed one last kiss between her breasts like a silent promise.
“Please don’t,” he chuckled.
“But I highkey like this bra on you too,” he smirked. “Your tits pressed up like that…”
That made Y/n roll her eyes. Then, he reached for the tissues on the nightstand with a lazy stretch, his muscles flexing under her fingertips as she traced the ridges of his abs. The tissues were cool against her stomach where his release had dried, his touch careful as he wiped her clean. There was something unbearably tender in the way his fingers lingered afterward, tracing idle circles on her skin like he couldn’t bear to stop touching her.
When he tossed the tissues aside, Jungkook tugged her properly into the bed, his arms winding around her as he pulled the blanket up over their hips. Y/n curled into him instinctively, her head pillowed on his bicep, her fingers grazing the planes of his chest. His heartbeat thudded steady under her palm, his skin warm and slightly sticky with sweat, the scent of him — swear and something faintly sweet — filling her lungs.
Jungkook’s breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the lazy drag of his fingers through her hair.
Y/n’s eyelids grew heavy, her limbs melting into the mattress as the exhaustion of the night and the warmth of his body lulled her deeper into drowsiness. She fought it for a moment, wanting to savor this, him, but the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand was too soothing. Too safe.
Her fingers shifted slightly against him, not quite falling still yet.
“Jungkook…” she murmured, her voice soft, almost slurred with sleep.
He hummed in response, his hand pausing briefly in her hair before continuing, slower now.
“Promise me something,” she said quietly.
He glanced down at her, brows pulling together just slightly. He was already trying to figure out where this was going.
“What?” he asked, voice low, gentler now.
Her fingers stilled for a second before curling faintly against him.
“That you won’t push people away when you get scared…” she said, her gaze soft but steady despite the sleep tugging at her. A small pause. Then, quieter, more vulnerable, “At least… don’t push me.”
The words settled between them, heavier than they sounded.
Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. His hand slowed in her hair, fingers lingering as his gaze stayed on her, something unreadable flickering across his face. Not hesitation, just the weight of it. The reality of what she was asking.
Then his thumb brushed lightly against her arm.
“I promise,” he said.
Y/n’s lips curved just slightly at that, her eyes finally slipping shut, the tension she didn’t realise she was holding easing out of her. She felt more than heard his quiet chuckle when her fingers stilled against his skin, her breathing evening out.
“Sleep,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep and something softer, his lips brushing her forehead.
His fingers combed through her hair once more, tucking a loose strand behind her ear before his palm settled at the small of her back, holding her close even as she drifted.
Y/n didn’t remember closing her eyes, but when she blinked them open again, just for a second, it was to the press of Jungkook’s lips against her forehead, lingering and warm.
Her lashes fluttered shut again. Jungkook exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her bare shoulder as he watched her sleep. The streetlight outside cast a faint glow through the curtains, painting her skin in gold and shadow, her lashes dark against her cheeks. He brushed his thumb over the curve of her shoulder, marveling at the warmth of her, the way her breath hitched slightly when he touched the dip of her waist.
Carefully, he shifted onto his side, pulling her closer until her head rested in the crook of his arm, her leg hooked over his thigh. Her warmth seeped into him, her scent filling his lungs too. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in, his lips curving against her scalp when she mumbled something incoherent and nuzzled closer.
loves, i need your help. ive reached the limit (again). should i TRY a shorten it or break this chapter into two parts???? im literally reaching the end of this chapter. if i shorten it, it would have to be released even later. if i cut it, i can release it neow 😏
izzy806
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romaincrisis
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