Synopsis¬ he had the exact same face, but his eyes differed radically.
Words¬ 1.1k
°§°
She finally sets herself down on the bed, after a tiresome day of work. She backs up against the headboard of the bed, and sighs in comfort when her tense and aching muscles finally relax. She waits for her housemate - slash - best friend - slash - crush to join her in their shared room.
Working in a Café as waiters means walking around the place all day long, bowing to, and serving the customers, the result being strained muscles, back aches and dead legs. Also, the pay of it is hardly enough to pay the rent of their tiny shared apartment, and for their studies.
Sweating due to the humid and hot weather, she raises her fingers to unbutton her white uniform shirt, when Jungkook walks into the room unexpectedly, blushing heavily, when he notices her doing so. His wide glimmering doe eyes linger on her for a moment, and she notices the gulp going down his throat.
"Sorry!" he squeaks out, and diverts his eyes from her, to hurriedly walk to his almirah, grab a change of his clothes, and walk out swiftly, the redness on his neck and ears clearly evident to her eyes.
She quietly chuckles to herself. Jungkook has been introverted and a shy mess since she can remember. But this diffident attitude and the bashful nature of his are one of the major reasons for her, falling for him.
She shakes her head, giggling lightly, while unbuttoning her shirt halfway down, and then slides the sleeves of it off of her. She grabs the hoodie from the small pile of washed clothes on the bed, before bending her legs bearer to her, to slide off her knee length socks.
She straightens again, to toss the socks to the other side of the bed, but is startled to find Jungkook, his eyes darker than a few minutes ago, leaning against the column of the door, watching her intently.
As soon as her eyes meet his, he pushes himself off the door frame, and starts sauntering towards her, his steps heavy and thumping against the old wooden floors.
He reaches the edge of the bed, yet doesn't stop, and gets on his hands and knees, to continue to crawl towards her, until he's right in front of her. He reaches out to her shoulder, pressing against it, until she's totally laid down on the bed, still staggered by the radical alteration in his behavior.
He places his knees on either sides of her hips, both his hands set firmly on the sheets near her ears. His eyes never waver from hers, staring into her soul deeply, and she suddenly feels intimidated by him. His presence is strong and dominant, like never before, and he has her daunted and subdued.
One of his hands reach her cheek, and a shiver runs down her spine at both the coldness of his hand, and the surprise. He leans in more, till his face is directly above hers, barely centimetres away.
"Babe..." his voice is octaves lower, coming out in a mere whisper. The hand on her cheek slowly crawls down her jaw, and to her neck, but when she fears it would go further lower, it stops on her collar bone, caressing it with his forefinger and thumb. She realises the fact that her upper body is dressed in only a bra and it sets another shiver down.
His breath hits her mouth, and in a blink of the eye, his mouth overlaps her's. He feels almost weightless on the mattress, yet she still feels the heaviness of him, hovering with dominance over her. His kiss is deep, yet it feels light. Reflex causes her to shut her eyes on impact, but a gasp leaves her mouth, when she feels his other palm against the skin of her thighs revealed by her tight-skirt. His palm travels the length of it up and down, causing goosebumps to appear, which has him chuckle breathily into her mouth. He has her spellbound.
His palm stops on her upper thigh, only to grip on it, while he breaks the kiss to travel lower with his mouth, down her jawline. Open-mouthed kisses are pressed against her skin, which travel down her neck and below her ear. He travels back to the column of her neck, and a breathy moan leaves her when she feels his tongue glide up against her skin.
He continues traveling down to her collar bone, to leave a lone kiss there, and lifts his head up to her face. Her eyes, which had remained shut till now, slowly open, to finds his eyes already fixed on her. His eyes are so, so dark, that it almost seems that they are set behind a shadow. Lust can clearly be spelled out of them, yet there's no other emotion she can find in his orbs.
He is blank.
He flashes an empty smirk, before diving back down, to her collar bone, and without warning, starts sucking harshly against it, licking simultaneously. Her breathing fastens, and so does his mouth. Her fingers clutch the sheets below her, emotions becoming overwhelming for her.
A loud moan leaves her, when he bites her without notice. He sucks the area aggressively and vigorously. Her back arches at the newborn feelings inside her she's never experienced before.
His mouth detaches from her skin abruptly, at a sudden thump from outside the room. He raises his head at the sound, and freezes. Without a warning, he hastily jumps off of her, and she quickly sits back up, and wraps the sheets around her, completely addled.
He walks to the windows speedily, and pushes them open. With a last glance at her, he climbs over the window sill and jumps off, leaving her wide eyed and breathless, in utter shock.
A knock is heard on the door to the room, and she snaps her head towards it.
There stands Jungkook, his uniform changed into a pair of sweatpants and shirt, and his eyes wide and docile, and filled with care.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft and soothing, totally opposite to what she'd heard a few seconds earlier.
She opened her mouth to speak, yet no words leave her, as she still isn't able to comprehend what happened just now, what is right, and what is not.
She struggles to understand whether what happened was a dream or not. She wants to believe that it was a mere object of her imagination, yet the darkening bruise on her neck proves otherwise.
If this, on the door is her best friend, then who was he?
there’s nothing I adore more than seeing repeat names in my notifications. like as soon as I start to recognize someone’s url, I get so excited every time I see it. it’s like, “oh, my friend’s here!” and then whenever it pops again I just go, “hi, friend!” or “I love you, friend!”
my all-time favorite thing is when someone likes one story, then I see them follow me, then they suddenly start liking all my other stories or chapters and I swear it makes me sooo giddy every time!!
Synopsis¬ he had the exact same face, but his eyes differed radically.
Words¬ 1.1k
°§°
She finally sets herself down on the bed, after a tiresome day of work. She backs up against the headboard of the bed, and sighs in comfort when her tense and aching muscles finally relax. She waits for her housemate - slash - best friend - slash - crush to join her in their shared room.
Working in a Café as waiters means walking around the place all day long, bowing to, and serving the customers, the result being strained muscles, back aches and dead legs. Also, the pay of it is hardly enough to pay the rent of their tiny shared apartment, and for their studies.
Sweating due to the humid and hot weather, she raises her fingers to unbutton her white uniform shirt, when Jungkook walks into the room unexpectedly, blushing heavily, when he notices her doing so. His wide glimmering doe eyes linger on her for a moment, and she notices the gulp going down his throat.
"Sorry!" he squeaks out, and diverts his eyes from her, to hurriedly walk to his almirah, grab a change of his clothes, and walk out swiftly, the redness on his neck and ears clearly evident to her eyes.
She quietly chuckles to herself. Jungkook has been introverted and a shy mess since she can remember. But this diffident attitude and the bashful nature of his are one of the major reasons for her, falling for him.
She shakes her head, giggling lightly, while unbuttoning her shirt halfway down, and then slides the sleeves of it off of her. She grabs the hoodie from the small pile of washed clothes on the bed, before bending her legs bearer to her, to slide off her knee length socks.
She straightens again, to toss the socks to the other side of the bed, but is startled to find Jungkook, his eyes darker than a few minutes ago, leaning against the column of the door, watching her intently.
As soon as her eyes meet his, he pushes himself off the door frame, and starts sauntering towards her, his steps heavy and thumping against the old wooden floors.
He reaches the edge of the bed, yet doesn't stop, and gets on his hands and knees, to continue to crawl towards her, until he's right in front of her. He reaches out to her shoulder, pressing against it, until she's totally laid down on the bed, still staggered by the radical alteration in his behavior.
He places his knees on either sides of her hips, both his hands set firmly on the sheets near her ears. His eyes never waver from hers, staring into her soul deeply, and she suddenly feels intimidated by him. His presence is strong and dominant, like never before, and he has her daunted and subdued.
One of his hands reach her cheek, and a shiver runs down her spine at both the coldness of his hand, and the surprise. He leans in more, till his face is directly above hers, barely centimetres away.
"Babe..." his voice is octaves lower, coming out in a mere whisper. The hand on her cheek slowly crawls down her jaw, and to her neck, but when she fears it would go further lower, it stops on her collar bone, caressing it with his forefinger and thumb. She realises the fact that her upper body is dressed in only a bra and it sets another shiver down.
His breath hits her mouth, and in a blink of the eye, his mouth overlaps her's. He feels almost weightless on the mattress, yet she still feels the heaviness of him, hovering with dominance over her. His kiss is deep, yet it feels light. Reflex causes her to shut her eyes on impact, but a gasp leaves her mouth, when she feels his other palm against the skin of her thighs revealed by her tight-skirt. His palm travels the length of it up and down, causing goosebumps to appear, which has him chuckle breathily into her mouth. He has her spellbound.
His palm stops on her upper thigh, only to grip on it, while he breaks the kiss to travel lower with his mouth, down her jawline. Open-mouthed kisses are pressed against her skin, which travel down her neck and below her ear. He travels back to the column of her neck, and a breathy moan leaves her when she feels his tongue glide up against her skin.
He continues traveling down to her collar bone, to leave a lone kiss there, and lifts his head up to her face. Her eyes, which had remained shut till now, slowly open, to finds his eyes already fixed on her. His eyes are so, so dark, that it almost seems that they are set behind a shadow. Lust can clearly be spelled out of them, yet there's no other emotion she can find in his orbs.
He is blank.
He flashes an empty smirk, before diving back down, to her collar bone, and without warning, starts sucking harshly against it, licking simultaneously. Her breathing fastens, and so does his mouth. Her fingers clutch the sheets below her, emotions becoming overwhelming for her.
A loud moan leaves her, when he bites her without notice. He sucks the area aggressively and vigorously. Her back arches at the newborn feelings inside her she's never experienced before.
His mouth detaches from her skin abruptly, at a sudden thump from outside the room. He raises his head at the sound, and freezes. Without a warning, he hastily jumps off of her, and she quickly sits back up, and wraps the sheets around her, completely addled.
He walks to the windows speedily, and pushes them open. With a last glance at her, he climbs over the window sill and jumps off, leaving her wide eyed and breathless, in utter shock.
A knock is heard on the door to the room, and she snaps her head towards it.
There stands Jungkook, his uniform changed into a pair of sweatpants and shirt, and his eyes wide and docile, and filled with care.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft and soothing, totally opposite to what she'd heard a few seconds earlier.
She opened her mouth to speak, yet no words leave her, as she still isn't able to comprehend what happened just now, what is right, and what is not.
She struggles to understand whether what happened was a dream or not. She wants to believe that it was a mere object of her imagination, yet the darkening bruise on her neck proves otherwise.
If this, on the door is her best friend, then who was he?
The dragon’s massive wings carved through the air, each beat lifting them higher above the sprawling expanse of Brocielis. The wind was sharp, carrying the mingled scents of the forest and ocean, while the sun painted gold upon Jungkook’s raven hair.
Y/N sat in front of him on the beast’s scaled back, her body pressed to his as his strong arms caged her protectively. His voice rose above the rush of the wind, warm and eager.
“Down there,” Jungkook shouted, pointing to the glittering river winding like a silver ribbon through the valley. “I used to sneak away from the palace guards and swim there in the summer. I thought no one could find me, but my mother always did.”
A small, fond smile touched Y/N’s lips.
He leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear as he gestured toward the castle gates far below. “And there—those old stone walls. I carved my name into the arch when I was ten. Thought it would make me immortal.” His chuckle was soft, almost boyish, and Y/N felt her chest ache.
She turned to face him, the wind lifting her hair into a halo around her face. Jungkook’s gaze lingered, the golden light of the sun catching in his irises. He reached out and touched her cheek with reverence, voice dropping low.
“You are… more breathtaking than all of this.” His hand trailed to her jaw, thumb brushing her lips. “More than the sky, more than the kingdom. You are what makes it worth seeing at all.”
Y/N’s throat tightened. She had kept her truth buried for so long, but here, above the clouds with nothing to bind her, it spilled out.
“I am a White Witch, Jungkook.” Her voice trembled, but not from fear. “My magic… it was never meant to harm. I could never hurt a human life. That is why they chained me—because power without malice is power they cannot control.”
Jungkook’s arms tightened around her instinctively. His brows furrowed as he searched her face.
“And the curse on you…” Her eyes softened with knowing. “It was not of me. It reeks of another. A black witch. Someone who fed on your kingdom’s envy and your family’s fear.”
He inhaled sharply, but she laid her hand over his heart, steadying him.
“With me, you are safe now. Always.”
The words glowed with more power than any incantation.
Jungkook’s throat bobbed, guilt flickering across his expression. His voice broke as he whispered, “And yet… I chained you. I believed the worst of you. I was cruel when you had done nothing but suffer.”
His forehead pressed to hers, desperation bleeding through his tone. “I am sorry. I will spend my life repenting. Forgive me, Y/N—my queen, my salvation.”
Her heart clenched, tears pricking her eyes, but she silenced him with a kiss.
Their mouths met, tender at first, then deeper—love and forgiveness mingling as the dragon soared higher. The world spun away beneath them, kingdom and sky blurring into insignificance.
In that kiss, Jungkook was no longer the prince who had cursed her life, nor the man who had nearly lost his own. He was simply hers. And Y/N, the witch once bound in darkness, was free at last—in his arms, in the open skies above their kingdom.
jungkook x reader, friends to lovers, spiderman!au — link to masterlist
chapter summary: Investigation officially kicks into high gear by interviewing a himbo with your now official partner-in-crime, Spiderman, in local burger joint. Between establishing a partnership with the local web-slinging vigilante, a viral baddie-moment on Twitter (also known as El*n M*sk's X) and falling for the lies of cable television, the investigation into the missing orphans of New York City (which you swear is connected to Auntie Aecha) gains a new lead.
wc: 5.9k
warnings: talks of kidnappings, one accidental straightphobic joke (god was speaking through me, sorry), thirsting over man tits, one instance of fujoshing out, me making up my own x-gene lore bc this is my earth(-134340) and im god around these parts
a/n: hey y'all, long time no see. hahaha. i have nothing to say about that. i missed this story so much! happy reading <333333
taglist: @kooko009 @mirinaeii @tatumrileyslover (if you want me to put you on the taglist, just lmk in the comments/asks!)
“Wait. I thought you worked at The New York Times?”
Rando Danny’s tone is a mix of disappointment and accusation. He crumbles the wrapper of his burger mindlessly, and throws it on the tray in front of him.
He’s chewing rather angrily, which you don’t realise was even a thing to do until now.
“No.” You shake your head, after taking a sip of your lemonade. Mango and mint, non-carbonated water. Carbonated water tickles your reflux, so no, thank you. “I work at the NYU Weekly. University newspaper. New York University. Which is in New York. But after graduation, I’m planning on applying t—”
Rando Danny puts up his non-smash-burger-holding hand to stop you. “Girl, I’m gonna stop you right there. Sorry, but I really don’t care. I’m pretty sure Yoonmi told me you work for the Times.”
Well, and you’re pretty sure Yoonmi didn’t tell him anything of the sort, seeing that you don’t know anyone by that name.
But alas.
“Well. I don’t, so. . .,” you trail off with an apologetic shrug. You eye your phone, laid on the middle of the table between your trays, the Voice Memos app open and running. This little hiccup does not look great on record. Did Yoongi really tell his guy you work for the Times? Could Rando Danny claim then that he was lured here under false pretences? Ruin your journalistic integrity? Sue you? Huh. “But I am investigating the missing person cases. If that’s any consolation.”
“On what authority?”
You blink. “Huh?”
“I asked, on what authority.” Rando Danny repeats himself, before slurping on his shake. Then, he continues, “I doubt a university newspaper has such ambitions. Like, where is this article supposed to go? Between an interview with a 120-year old professor of some obscure scammy humanities field and a review of the seasonal cafeteria menu?”
Before you could get offended on Professor Convington’s behalf — come on, the guy’s only 92 and paleopathology is a respected and relatively interesting field! — a third voice chimes in unexpectedly.
“Tony Stark.”
“Beyonce Carter-Knowles,” comes Rando Danny’s immediate reply.
Spiderman, after speaking up for the first time since the three of you sat down in the fast food restaurant — him, without a tray in front of him, because, well, mask —, is now staring at what you suppose is Rando Danny, in what you can only imagine is confusion. . . because, again. Mask.
“Ummm. Huh?”
Rando Danny blinks. Shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I thought we were just saying names.”
“No? Why would we—?” Spiderman starts, before he decides to backtrack. “Anyways. Whatever. I was just answering your question. Miss ___ is my partner on this case, so if that helps, you can just think of her as an extension of the Avengers.”
Rando Danny blinks again. “I thought you weren’t officially an Avenger, Spiderman.”
“Well, technically—” Spiderman pipes up, but trails off just as fast. His muscles go rigid under the hand you had just placed on his shoulder to chide him.
You quickly retract it, fight off the freezing feeling of embarrassment that’s creeping up your spine, and instead fiddle with your cellphone, making sure nothing around the table is blocking its shitty microphones.
“Can we circle back, please?” you ask, and without waiting for a confirmation, carry on. “Ra— I mean, Daniel. My friend tells me you have some thoughts about your friend going missing, and that you feel like the police are dismissing your concerns. Could you tell me about it, please?”
“Okay. Fine.” Rando Danny sighs as if he’s doing you a favour — which, he kinda is. He’s suddenly solemn, a bit jarring in contrast to his sort-of agreeable himbo personality of 20 seconds ago. His stare jumps to the table in front of him, a faraway look in his eyes. He slumps back in his seat, swallows tightly.
“They said it’s normal. That young girls get like that when they’re in a new relationship, like, I dunno, as if it’s the fucking 1950’s or something. Misogynistic pricks.” Rando Danny scoffs, shaking his head. You nod. Yeah, that does sound very misogynistic prickly. Rando Danny’s voice is bitter, barely more than a grumble at times. “But unlike them, I actually know Laura. She was not herself. Not for the few weeks leading up to her going disappearance, anyways.”
Leaning forward in your seat, you ask, “What changed?”
“I mean. Everything?” Rando Danny smiles, but it's completely mirthless. “She was a very. . . easy-going person, so to say. Don’t get me wrong, she was absolutely neurotic at the same time; to-do lists every day, her emails automated to be color-coded, separate planners for everything, in bed by 10PM no matter what. But personality-wise, she was very, well, laid-back. Always smiling, never taking anything to heart, honest to fault, always up for everything as long as it was before 10PM. I know how that sounds — like she was full of contradictions to begin with.”
“She sounds like a really nice person,” you tell him.
“She is.” This time, Rando Danny’s smile is genuine. “But then she met this guy? And then suddenly, literally one day to another, it’s like she’s a completely different person. I don’t even know his name, she became so closed off, when before, I even knew the color of the shit she took that day. Pardon my French.”
“Pas de souci,” you wave him off.
Rando Danny pushes his dipping cup of mayo over to your tray before continuing. If your ears are not betraying you, Spiderman hides a laugh of disbelief under the sound of him clearing his throat.
You shrug, dip a fry into the mayo, and listen as Rando Danny carries on.
“They didn’t even take us seriously the first time we called to report her missing, did you know that?”
“Um, no.” You shake your head, voice gently unsure. Rando Danny’s brows are furrowed in a mixture of frustration and outrage, and a hint of expectation. “I mean, this is kinda like my first time hearing about it, you know.”
“Right. Yeah, we called the police the first night she didn’t come home. She lives in the same dormitory building as me, her roommate came up around midnight to see if Laura was over at my room because she couldn’t reach her. Well, obviously she wasn’t,” Rando Danny says. “So, we called the police. Neither of us had particularly good feelings about this dude. Laura’s roommate, Clare, she did meet him, once, in passing when he came to pick Laura up. Clare said his vibes were rancid. And Clare’s— well. How do I say this in a pee-cee way. . .”
“Ummm,” you hesitate. “A. . . bitch?”
“A delinquent?” Spiderman tries to help out.
“A true crime content creator?” you propose.
“Racist?” Spiderman adds.
“Oh! A republican?” you offer.
“Painfully straight,” is what Rando Danny finally settles on. His expression looks genuinely pained at the mention of this. “Her boyfriend wears PVC sandals. She swoons over even guys like that. So if she says Laura’s new guy stinks. . .”
“It’s really bad,” you finish his sentiment, pointing a french fry at him. You’re picking up what he’s putting down — definitely not because coincidentally you, also, have gone out with a guy who wears PVC sandals. Is it appropriate to ask, later, off the record, if Clare’s boyfriend is named Spencer? Sometimes when it’s chilly, you’ve been wondering how he’s faring in the winter.
“Yeah.”
Next to your phone, you tap your acrylics on the table two times in order to spike the recording, and make a mental note to circle back to this strange man that has appeared in and may have completely upturned Laura’s life for the worst. You wipe the corners of your mouth with the pad of your fingers — it has some mayo sauci on it — before asking, “When did the police start actually initiating searches for Laura?”
“When she didn’t turn up the next day for her internship, they finally started taking us more seriously,” Rando Danny says. “That was almost a week ago, now. She has nowhere to go. And until it’s confirmed she ‘left voluntarily’” (here, he uses finger quotes) “like they think, Laura is still legally a missing person. So.”
She had nowhere else to go.
A memory scratches the back of your mind — Taehyung’s car, the radio reporting. A spike in missing person’s cases in the city, all orphans and half-orphans.
So. . . people with nowhere else to go?
As much as the police would like to downplay Laura’s friends’ concerns, she certainly seems to fit the pattern. You know, the dots they, themselves, have connected? And given to news outlets to report? Go figure, dude.
Hanging onto this bit of information, you continue, “Daniel, you said she has nowhere else to go. What did you mean by that? Can I—can I ask you about Laura’s family?”
“Sure, but there’s not much to tell,” he says with a shrug. He plays with the straw in his shake, eyes flitting between you and the masked vigilante in the seat next to you. “Laura was raised by her grandmother — she passed away our sophomore year of college.”
“And her parents?” you follow up.
“Not in the picture.”
“Oh, I’m really sorry—”
“They’re not, like, dead or anything,” Rando Danny interrupts. “But maybe as good as. Laura was legally adopted by her grandma in the second grade. No way she’d go back to them.”
You hum at that, tapping your fingers on the table again.
So Laura’s legal guardian — no, her legal parent is her grandma. Who’s dead. Rest in peace to her, of course.
Where does that bring us, ladies and gentlethems?
Ding-ding-dong.
Yes.
She’s an orphan. Well. Technically.
So definitely fits the pattern.
The only reason you’re not smiling like the Cheshire cat right now is because. Well. That would be, like, really fucking insensitive to the guy with the missing friend sitting in front of you, obviously.
Inside your head, though? You’re dancing to the Ketchup Song. Asereje-HUH?!
“Hey, Daniel? Is there any way you could put me in contact with this Clare girl?”
Because boy, do you have some questions. And it’s not just her weirdo boyfriend’s name.
(Fingers crossed it’s not Spencer. You wouldn’t wish that menace upon even a straight girl.)
₊✩。🕷˚🕸⋆。
“So, where did you find this guy, again?”
You take a loud sip of the salted caramel shake you ordered before leaving to-go, the straw still between your lips as you answer, “I didn’t. My friend hooked up with him a few days ago.”
“What?!” Spiderman yelps. “Who?!”
You peer up at him with a raised eyebrow, lips curling into a mischievous smile as you retort. “I just want to say, it really means a lot to me that you presume I have friends, plural. My best friend, Yoongi. Sometimes he sneaks into the dorm Rando Danny lives in because the washing machines are cheaper there and he has a keycard to the building that somehow still works from an old girlfriend.”
“Rando Danny?”
“I mean, Daniel Walter Washington the third. Big D2W3. Also known as the guy we just interviewed.”
“I see.” Spiderman nods. One of his hands circles around your wrist for a moment to pull you away from oncoming foot-traffic, before falling back to his side, lightly grazing yours while doing so.
Around the two of you, daytime Manhattan is as busy as ever. Suits on lunch break dashing through the crowds, and school girls spending the weekend out and about town with their friends with a few tourists loitering around every corner, marvelling at the buildings that look exactly like the one that’s a block down.
It’s not lost on you how heads turn as you walk down the sidewalk, how the more bold of passersby are raising their phones to snap a quick, not-at-all-inconspicuous picture of you. Your hair looks really good today — Hari let you borrow her heatless curler kit that she got from the TikTok shop — but you know it’s not a bow to your good hair day rather than the arachnid superstar of the city flagging your side.
The good hair day, however, is a more than welcome mitigating factor. Girl, you’ll look so good when those shots inevitably go viral on Twitter.
You nod to yourself in satisfaction.
You can already imagine the comments. Oh my god, who’s that absolute hottie with a body next to Spiderman? Her hair looks so good, how does she do it? I’m so jealous! Wait, is that not ___ ___, well-respected upcoming journalist of NYU Weekly, the first freshmen to get her own weekly column in the history of the prestigious university newspaper? Well, yes, it is! I heard she set her sights on The New York Times after graduation. Does anyone know where she got her sweater, it’s so cute!
“So, what do we think?” Spiderman asks, bringing you back down to Earth-134340. Whatever. You’ll get the notification once the tweets go live anyways.
“About what?”
“About Ariana Grande going blonde,” Spiderman says without missing a beat.
“I think it suits her complexion.”
“C’mon, ___, this guy was. . .” Spiderman falters, trying to find the words. “Very odd.”
“Well, first of all, you’re also a very odd person.”
“The guy broke down crying when telling you that Laura went missing in his favourite sweater and then proceeded to blow his nose in his burger wrapper. We only had, like, sixteen hundred tissues at the table! Seriously, the burger wrapper? With the burger grease on it?!” Spiderman complains, while he yet again pulls you out of the way of a young woman lost in the virtual world of a Facetime call via a hand wrapping around your forearm.
“He’s grieving!” You roll your eyes, before continuing with a little giggle. “But I’ll admit, it was a bit funny that he had burger crumbs on his nose after that. I should’ve told him, but it turns out I’m maybe not a nice person. I feel like this makes me a bad person.”
“Oh, shut up, you’re a great person,” Spiderman mumbles.
“I think every person who has known me for more than a month would disagree with you,” you tell him, not at all fazed.
Look, you’re not the Antichrist or anything. You don’t litter. You help old ladies cross the streets and buy homeless people sandwiches. You always uphold journalistic integrity. You only cheated on an exam once in your entire life if you don’t count anything before high school.
But you’re not at all afraid of being a little — or a lot — unlikeable if that means people can’t walk over you like you’re the fucking Brooklyn Bridge. Been there, done that, and it’s simply not your lifestyle to people please. It’s a delicate balance.
Spiderman shakes his head resolutely. “I highly doubt that.”
“Let’s get back to this in a month, see if you can still tolerate me.”
“Sure.”
You startle when suddenly, his hand shots out in front of you, a gooey string of spiderwebs springing from his wrists (fuck, it was way too quick for you to see if it came from somewhere inside of him — yet another day of the Synthetic Web Theory going unanswered) and towards the road.
You turn your head just in time to see a little boy, no older than ten, get absolutely fucking catapulted back inside his mom’s car by the momentum of the spiderwebs hitting his chest. His baby hands are still hanging outside the open backseat window in the middle of a wave.
You snort. A little Spiderhead, spotted out in the wild!
Privately, you also marvel at Spiderman’s apparent ability of multitasking. Is the Spidersense Theory also real?
One more question you’ll have to ask him once you guys are officially Friends — with a capital F.
“Look, I agree that Daniel was a little. . .”
“Odd,” Spiderman supplies.
You nod. “And a bit of a dumbass. But did you not pay attention?! We’re so much smarter now that we were an hour ago.”
“Are we?” You can hear the hint of doubt in Spiderman’s reply.
“Of course!” you exclaim. “We not only have a freaky magic ring now, but an actual, real, not-at-all metaphysical lead. We have Claire’s phone number. And Claire has knowledge. She’s Laura’s roommate, and that, my dear partner, is the real pot of gold.”
Spiderman hums. “We have, like, breadcrumbs, the way I see it.”
“Yeah, and we’re gonna Hansel and Gretel the fuck out of those breadcrumbs, dude!” you tell him. Passing a trashcan, you drop your now empty cup into it before looking up at the — wow, fuck, really tall! Wait. . . Has he been this tall along?!!! Nevermind. You’re just #nooticing things — masked vigilante next to you. “Do you not have roommates, Spiderman?”
He shakes his head. “Mmm-mmm.”
“Right, I guess you’re, like, fucking loaded, from all the donations you get.”
“Nah. I don’t really keep that money.” He shakes his head again. “But I grew up just a short subway ride from downtown. I still live with my family.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” you acknowledge. “But that means you haven’t known the chaos and humiliation, the epic highs and lows of college roommates. Sure, my best friend, Yoongi, has a unique insight to my soul, that’s his best-friend privilege. But my roommates, Piper and Hari? They know my every move, whether I want them to or not. There’s no escaping them. You’ll have the worst day of your life, and they’re just there in the living room, because it’s their living room. You’ll have explosive diarrhea from subway station gyro, and there’s no hiding that from them. Guys in PVC sandals will knock on your door looking for you, and they will be the ones opening it. You’ll want one or two peaceful nights a month to jiggle your beans and they’re—”
“I think I caught your drift,” Spiderman interrupts.
Right. You admittedly got a bit off track. Occupational hazard — one thing you will do is paint the damn picture.
You slow to a stop as you reach the subway entrance, and turn to face him properly, hands resting in your pocket.
Fuck, he really is tall. Standing so close to him, you actually need to crane your head to make at least an attempt at looking him in the eyes.
Only an attempt, because. . . you know. Mask.
You continue with your tangent, “I’m telling you, Clare will know something about this guy. He must’ve had something to do with Laura’s disappearance, I’m like 98.76% certain he did. It’s always the weird new guy that shows up out of the blue.”
Spiderman nods along, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks down on you, which — dear God. Man boobs. Huge, firm-looking, downright obtrusive pecs. Your eyes dart back to his mask.
Stupid, skin-tight spandex.
“In the meantime,” you continue, Empress of Nonchalantia, “I’ll try to hunt down some more friends and families. See if the others also had a new beaux pop into their lives.”
“Right. There’s just one thing I think I’m still not understanding.”
“Which is?”
“How exactly is this supposed to help us find Aecha Park?” Spiderman asks.
You roll your eyes, a hand darting into your bag, searching for your subway card.
“Get with the program, my man!” you tell him. “This is all connected!”
Your hands finally wrap around the card. With the other one, you brush your fingers through your hair, before shrugging. “It just is, dude.”
“But could you not just elaborate?”
“No, unfortunately.” You start walking backwards towards the subway entrance, spreading your arms wide with the most convincing smile on your face. “I have a hunch.”
Spiderman shouts after your now retreating back. “It’s really hard to just trust you on this. You do realize that, right? ___?”
“I do.” Stepping onto the stairs, you throw your hand up in a wave. “I’ll text you, okay? Gotta dip. I have a meeting in the newsroom.”
₊✩。🕷˚🕸⋆。
Namjoon is staring at you standing in front of his desk. You are staring at Namjoon sitting behind his desk on his desk chair.
Hoseok, who you don’t know why even is here (mental note to text Jungkook: Hoseok hanging out around newsroom for no reason — as you’re sure he really has none) is staring at you staring at Namjoon, then staring at Namjoon staring at you, then staring at you staring at Namjoon again from where he’s perched on the edge of Namjoon’s desk.
The dude is just here, sitting here and looking pretty in Namjoon’s office.
They are so obvious. Not even trying to hide it. You have the urge to regress into a second grader — Namjoon and Hoseok are your two Ken dolls, and you wanna make them kiss, kiss, kiss!
The silence is cut only by the sound of one of your colleagues, Denise, tapping away on her keyboard outside of Namjoon’s office. You can hear it, because Namjoon doesn’t actually have an office — he has a secluded corner, walled by two filing cabinets and a map of Middle Earth.
“You’re telling me you are,” Namjoon peers at his wrist — where he is NOT wearing a watch. Weirdo, “30 minutes late to a meeting, that, mind you, you begged me to have today, because, and I’m quoting you, ‘there was a bird in Piper’s room.’”
You nod solemnly. “Yes. I didn’t wanna get into it, because it’s. . . deeply personal, but birds. . . they’re. . . a really touchy subject to Piper. Because she was, like, picked up by one when she was little. And they just, y’know,” you say, circling a finger around the air as you slowly trail off, “flew around her house a little. Like, I dunno, a half hour-ish. Maybe a little more, but I’m sure when you’re getting traumatised you kinda lose track of time. That’s why she has a fear of heights. I thought you knew that.”
Hoseok stifles a snort into his hand, turning to gawk at Namjoon’s incredulous face — Namjoon, who is rendered silent for a few more seconds.
“Picked up. By a bird.” He finally raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” You swallow. You shrug. “It was a hawk. They are, like. . . really strong.”
“Right,” Namjoon says. He pulls out his cellphone from his pocket, unlocks the screen and taps away for a few moments before sliding the device across the table, a picture staring back at you from its screen. “So this is not you in this picture that was uploaded to Twitter 30 minutes ago, captioned ‘Just saw Spiderman with this random baddie on the Upper West Side like 5 minutes ago. Cool af’.”
Fuck. The pictures. You really should’ve thought of this before the bird stor—Wow. Fuck again, your hair looks really good in this picture.
You pick up the phone, and hold out the screen for Hoseok to see, as well. “I’m sorry. But can we just take a moment to appreciate how good my hair looks in this picture. Heatless curls, bay-bee!”
Hoseok nods in appreciation (‘It really does look effortless and chic, ___’ is what you’re certain he’s trying to convey) just as Namjoon cries out your name in disbelief.
“Okay, okay, okay, okay, yes, that’s me, I’m sorry,” you exclaim, stepping closer to Namjoon’s desk, and hopping onto the side adjacent to Hoseok. “You remember the Spiderman feature?”
Namjoon nods. “Yes. And guess what? I remember telling you to give up on the Spiderman feature.”
You shove his phone into his face. “Hello?! Are we looking at the same picture? Why would I give up on the feature?!”
“For all I know, you’re just standing there, bothering the guy,” Namjoon says.
You gasp, a hand flying to your chest. From the corner of your eyes, you glimpse at Hoseok. He’s shaking his head with widened eyes, in a classic dont-look-at-me-hes-got-a-point sort-of way.
The betrayal.
Your only (and merely just semi-enthusiastic) supporter in this quest for fame and recognition, agreeing to the fact that you’re annoying as fuck. Because that’s basically what they’re saying, right?
It takes all that is in you not to adopt a Transatlantic accent. “You two deeply, deeply offend me. As clearly depicted here,” and here, you raise the phone as visual aid for your audience, and then continue, “the gentleman and I are in a keenly engaging, elevated, and most importantly, reciprocal conversation.”
“We can’t really see if you’re talking at him or with him, though,” Hoseok interrupts. “He’s wearing a mask.”
“Hoseok, please shut up.” You raise the Palm of Absolute Silence and Stillness in front of his face to quiet him, before turning back to Namjoon, who’s sitting at his desk with a tilted head and an expression usually donned by people tortured by diarrhea. “Namjoon, I am getting you the Spiderman feature. Do you see this phone?”
He nods. “Yeah. That’s my phone.”
“Wait, no.” Standing from the desk, you fish your own cell out of the pocket of your jeans, and hold it up in your other hand. “Do you see this phone?”
“Yeah. That’s your phone.”
“And do you know what this phone has? Besides unlimited data, unlimited nationwide calling, 120 minutes of international calling, and 200 free texts a month?” The time it takes for you to pull up a contact in your device is the perfect stand-in for a dramatic pause. You look at your editor pointedly. “It has Spiderman’s phone number. Ba-bumm!”
Which is — well. This part is not a lie.
A moment of silence.
Then, “Holy shit, you are getting the piece!” Namjoon exclaims.
This part is the lie.
Hoseok laughs. “God, ___, you really did manage to annoy this guy into talking to you.”
This part is debatable.
You sorta meant it when you said Spiderman and you are having keenly engaging conversations. Do you annoy him? God, probably. But turns out, he himself is also kind of annoying. You guys have the perfect annoyance-to-intellectualism ratio, which is famously 7:3, as proposed by scientists.
“Listen, Joon,” you say. “You’ll need to give me some time. Yes, he’s willingly talking to me now, but he’s still not sold on this whole interview-thing.” True. Of that, you still have not managed to convince him. It was so much easier to rope the guy into a literal crime investigation. “But I’ll get you that fucking feature.”
“Fuck, you’re working on a Spiderman piece, ___. You have all the time you need,” Namjoon says. Then corrects. “Well, you can’t write for the university paper after you graduate. And I’m graduating next year, and then I won’t be editor-in-chief anymore. So really, you only have like eight months.”
“More than enough, my man.”
“God, I’m gonna piss myself.”
₊✩。🕷˚🕸⋆。
The chewing gum smears all over your face after Jungkook pops the bubble you blew with his index finger.
You send his retreating figure a disgruntled look from the corner of your eye as you pick the pieces off your nose, then push the whole thing back into your mouth.
“That’s disgusting,” he grumbles.
You shrug. “Your face is disgusting.”
A lie. And given by that endearing smile on his face, Jungkook knows that.
You start chewing on the gum again, loud and frankly annoying. You know it annoys him, so you do it anyway. The quiet, lofi-music in the background helps with focusing about as much as smoking helps preventing lung cancer — and by that you mean: not a lot. More of a distraction, really, when a random beat gives you the boogie woogie.
With two fingers, you scroll down the trackpad of the laptop in your lap, skimming what must be about the sixteenth academic paper in hopes of catching a paragraph that could be used as a reference for one (1!!!!!!!!) bullet point in your Canva presentation. Oh, academia, how I fucking loathe thee.
“Remind me again why we chose a History elective this semester,” you groan, and close the tab, moving onto number seventeen.
At this point, you’re starting to get a bit concerned. Are you and Jungkook trying to sell some complete bullshit on this slide?
Jungkook drones, “Because an informed reporter is aware of the historical context of current affairs.”
“Right.” You nod, not too convinced. “Now tell me, does this paragraph make any fucking sense to you or am I suddenly illiterate? ‘By the early 20th century, medically proven cases of x-gene mutation decreased to total of approximately 200 individuals, representing roughly about 0.0000— fuck, dude, lots of fucking zeros, let me go at it again—0.000002% of the American population. While precise global figures remain unavailable, Dankworth and Ferby (1976) proposed that analogous patterns of decline were observable internationally during this time. By 1929, President Herbert Hoover referred to the X-Men as an effectively extinct population in his address on August 27th in Minnesota, framing their disappearance as the resolution of a prior societal threat. Nonetheless, contemporary researchers estimated that about 60-70 people with mutant genes were still alive at that time. In subsequent years, the issue has faded from public discourse, largely eclipsed by the emerging prospect of another world war. In 1962, the World Health Organisation officially classified the x-gene mutation as extinct in humans, noting that the trait persisted only in laboratory rats. A decade later, in 1972, prominent conspiracy theorist and host of his eponymous television program, Elias Higgins, alleged that HYDRA had conducted human experiments between 1940 and 1945 with the aim of recreating the x-gene. These claims were subsequently refuted by Homeland Security, Interpol, S.H.I.E.L.D., and the governments of both the Netherlands and Germany. To date, no empirical evidence has emerged to substantiate Higgins’s claims.’”
Jungkook looks up from his laptop with furrowed eyebrows. “You’re illiterate. ___, that was, like, the most accessible and concise academic writing I’ve ever heard. You write more confusingly.”
“But Jungkook!” You sit up straighter in your corner of the couch, feet brushing Jungkook’s outstretched legs as you do so. You’re positive that there must be a pout on your lips right now. “This discredits, like, our entire fucking presentation! We have like three slides about how x-genes still sporadically occur in canidae who live in their natural habitat! This shit is talking about how it’s only lab rats!”
Jungkook is looking at you silently with those big eyes of his for a few silent moments. He scratches his neck. “___. I swear to you, they said on Animal Planet that some red foxes in remote parts of Australia have x-genes and they’re freaking people out by flying around and teleporting.”
“I know, me and Hari watched that same episode of The Most Extreme last week,” you say. Blowing another chewing gum bubble, you quickly type into the search bar: are they lying on animal planet? The results shock you. “Fuck, Kook. ‘Yes, Animal Planet has been involved in several controversies regarding the staging of scenes and presenting fabricated content as documentaries’. We’ve been fucked over, dude.”
Jungkook groans, and slouches back on the couch, one of his arms brushing the side of your thighs as it falls back on the cushion.
Your front door opens, revealing Hari and Piper, both hauling two bags of groceries.
“Hi, babes,” Hari calls, dropping her keys into the bowl on the hall table.
Next to you, Jungkook springs to his feet, and rushes over to take a bag from each of the girls. You hide a smile into your lap when you see Piper blush, a meek little ‘thanks’ leaving her mouth as Jungkook starts towards the kitchen.
“Remind me to never throw my brother a birthday party again,” Hari says to no one in particular. Jungkook and her settle into a natural routine by the fridge — Hari, organizing, Jungkook, handing her stuff. “I’m embarrassed to say how much I just paid for groceries. I’m gonna make Taehyung pay half.”
You close your laptop before turning around, resting your arms on top of the backseat of the sofa so that you’re facing the kitchen.
“Yeah, I told you this morning. "Hey Hari, you asked me last year to tell you not to throw Jimin a birthday party, so this is me telling you now not to throw Jimin a birthday party’ and you just said, ‘Chill, peasant, it’s gonna be lowkey this year’ and left. What else could I do?” you complain.
“Chain me to my bedframe,” Hari replies.
Jungkook hands her a carton of milk, his amused grin barely constrained. “Kinky.”
Hari shoots him an unimpressed look. Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, then fishes some limes out of the grocery bag.
“So. What were you guys doing?” Piper asks from where she lingers by the kitchen island, looking at Jungkook then at you expectantly.
“Yeah, I didn’t know you’re coming over,” Hari adds, addressing Jungkook.
“What?” Jungkook asks. He walks back to the couch, and hops onto the backrest, next to where your arms lay. He looks down at you as he continues. “Can’t I just come over? Hang out with my dear friend, ___ over here? Must there be a reason?”
You chime in. “You can, dude, but you never do.” Jungkook looks to be considering that, undecided if your claim warrants his objection. It does not. You two are good friends — hell, great friends, even — but he is really not in the habit of just coming over to your place with no other reason but to hang out. The person doing that happens to be you. Resting your hand in your palm, you turn to Piper, shooting her a reassuring smile. “We were just doing homework. We thought choosing the X-Men topic for our presentation for our Modern History elective is the most obvious cop out. Turns out we’ll have to look into a class action lawsuit against frickin Animal Planet.”
“The X-Men?” Piper asks. “Why, what were you two gonna talk about?”
“Flying red foxes in Australia,” you tell her.
“Oh, that was on Animal Planet last week!” Hari adds happily. You send her finger guns. She pretends to be shot.
“But the only animals with known x-gene mutation are a small number of laboratory rats in France,” Piper says, confused.
“Well, yeah. Animal Planet fucking lied about the flying red foxes in Australia.”
“Hmm. Well, you could still do the presentation on the rats. They’re relatively interesting.” Piper shrugs. Her eyes fall to your arms — specifically, your elbow that is slightly digging into Jungkook’s hip. There’s a flicker of something in her gaze. But if it bothers her, her voice is unaffected when she continues. “Or—you could do it on the HYDRA experiments. Yes, the academic consensus is that it’s just a conspiracy theory, but there was actual research done on the topic, you know, to find out if Higgins’s claims have any credibility. And they found some seriously sus stuff, hard to explain away. You two could have a more pop-culture-y take on the topic with that — it suits the both of you better than dull textbook-y history. ”
Jungkook meets your gaze as you both take a moment to consider it. He shrugs.
“Nahhhhh,” you slump in your seat. “If we get into the HYDRA stuff, we’ll never finish this shit tonight. Can you tell me more about the rats, Piper?”
PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER
A/N: this is for all readers who are tall: hereby, you are now short.
i try to be as vague as possible when using any physical descriptors for the reader, but as someone who is exactly the same height as jungkook (so this is not me self-inserting lmao) i feel like i'm allowed this one little indulgence.
congrats, if you're reading this, you're like three apples tall. shall i invite bella hadid.
You just slipped into the green dress he pushed into your hands. The fabric was softer than you expected. You hesitated, staring at yourself in the mirror, your heart was racing way too fast.
Then you slid the door of the changing room open to ask his opinions on it. But Jungkook was standing right there, a shirt in his hand that he clearly meant to pass to you. But the moment his eyes landed on you, he froze.
Your eyes flicked up, meeting his gaze, and you were sure of it, he was looking at your lips and the world seemed to stop.
Without thinking, your hand reached up, fingers curling lightly into his leather jacket. You gave the smallest tug, just enough to pull him down towards you.
And before you could stop yourself, before you could think about what would happen next, your lips pressed against his.
You kissed Jeon Jungkook.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The kiss wasn’t supposed to happen.
One second your lips pressed against his and the next second he pushed you against the cold glass of the changing room mirror, the door closed behind him, and your body trapped between the glass and Jungkook’s chest with his mouth on yours, hot and demanding.
It was far from gentle.
There was nothing hesitant in the way he kissed you, his lips moved against yours like he has been waiting for the chance to kiss you all along.
Your breath hitched as his hand slid up, fingers between your hair, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss. The taste of his tongue against yours sent sparks down your spine, your knees threatening to fail under the weight of it.
Every inch of him pressed into you, his hard muscle and heat caging you in, leaving you nowhere to go.
The glass behind you shuddered faintly with each shift of his body, and the quiet rasp of his breathing against your lips only made your heart race faster.
His other hand is placed firmly beside your head, knuckles brushing the mirror, a warning that you weren’t going anywhere until he decided to let you.
You tried to catch your breath, but he stole it from you each time, kissing you harder and deeper.
Your fingers betrayed you, fisting on the fabric of his shirt, clinging like you would drown without him.
He pulled back from your lips, his lips moved to a spot just under your ear, barely brushing the sensitive skin there leaving you moaning, before kissing you again, this time rougher.
Jungkook froze when he heard you moan against his lips, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His chest heaving against yours, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.
His tone was low but sharp enough to cut through you, “If I continued, the whole store would be hearing your moans.”
The words sent a shiver through you, leaving you pressed against the glass, trembling and breathless.
You tried to look away, your lips still tingling, but his gaze didn’t waver, heavy and unreadable like he was holding himself back by a sheer force of will.
For the first time, you realized Jungkook wasn’t the one out of control here.
You were.
“I’m, uh. Jungkook, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss you.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying you, his chest still rising and falling, “Sorry?” his tone was unreadable.
You nodded quickly, desperate to break the intensity pressing down on you, “It was a mistake.”
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment you thought he would step back, let the moment turn into awkwardness.
But instead, he leaned in closer, “You didn’t kiss like it was a mistake.”
Your breath caught, you didn’t know what to say that. When he finally stepped back, you exhaled like you have been holding your breath for far too long. He straightened himself, running a hand through his hair.
Then, he turned around towards the door, “Get changed. I’ll wait outside.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you leaning against the glass, your heart still pounding against your chest.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
When you finally stepped out, arms full of the clothes you’ve tried on, you walked towards the store to put them back.
But before you could even put the first hanger back into place, Jungkook’s hand shot out and took the stack of clothes from you.
“I’ll take them.”
You frowned, “What? No, I’m not even buying these.”
He didn’t respond, he simply turned around and walked towards the cashier. You followed quickly, whispering behind him, “Jungkook, stop. I don’t need all of them. I was just trying them on.”
He ignored you entirely, pulling out his wallet and dropping his card onto the counter. The cashier rang everything up with wide eyes, clearly not used to customers buying the entire fitting-room haul.
You tugged at his sleeve, whispering, “You can’t just,”
He stopped you with a cold but shape gaze, “I can and I did.”
The cashier handed the shopping bags over and Jungkook grabbed them all in one hand like they weighed nothing, shoving his card back into his pocket.
“You didn’t even ask me,” you tried again, flustered.
He cuts you off with a dry look, “You think I’d let you put them back after I saw you in them?”
Your breath caught, heat rushing to your face. He didn’t wait for a reply and just walked towards the exit with the shopping bags dangling from his fingers, as though the matter was already settled.
The evening air outside cooled you down. Jungkook walked ahead, still carrying the bags, until he reached his car parked a short distance away. With a click of his key, the headlights flashed, and he tossed the bags neatly into the back seat before getting into the driver’s seat.
“Get in,” his voice flat and commanding, not leaving room for you to refuse.
You climbed into the passenger seat, fastening the seatbelt as quietly as possible. Jungkook started the car and his hands were steady on the wheel, and his eyes fixed ahead.
The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of the engine and the occasional flick of the turn signal.
Finally, you said, “You don’t have to drive me back. I can take the bus just around this corner.”
“I’m not letting you take the bus,” he stated.
“About earlier,” you continued softly.
“Don’t,” his voice cut through yours, firmly and his jaw tightened, eyes still on the road, “don’t apologize again.”
The words caught you off guard. You turned slightly towards him, but he didn’t look at you, his gaze still fixed straight ahead.
“I wasn’t going to,” you started, but he interrupted again, “Do you think I kissed you back because I felt sorry for you?”
The bluntness took you by surprise, “No! I didn’t, I just,”
“Don’t call it a mistake again.”
The words landed heavy on you. You bite your lip, gripping your hands in your lap, unsure of what to say. The drive stretched on in silence.
Halfway to your place, he spoke again, “You looked away.”
You blinked, startled, “What?”
“After the kiss,” he said, almost too casually, but his eyes flicked to you briefly, “why did you look away?”
You swallowed hard, “Because I didn’t know what else to do.”
A faint scoff slipped from his lips, almost sounding like he was amused, “You never know what to do around me.”
Your chest tightened, “And you act like you know everything.”
“I do,” his hands tightened on the wheel, “and I know you wanted more.”
Your face was burning with embarrassment, “And you’re so sure of yourself. What if I didn’t?”
“You did,” he replied smoothly and certain, as if the way your body melted into his minutes ago was evidence enough, “your body doesn’t lie.”
Your breath stopped, “You’re impossible.”
“You’re the one who kissed me first.”
You snapped your head toward him, your voice rising, “And you kissed me back!”
His hand moved around the gear shift, brushing against your thigh again, but you knew it was intentional this time.
He leaned back into his seat, eyes never leaving the road, “You should be careful,” he said quietly warning you, “I might not stop next time.”
That shut you up completely.
The rest of the drive was quiet, the air heavy but not suffocating, every time you glanced at him, his face reminds you of what happened minutes earlier.
When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he shifted into park but didn’t unlock the doors immediately. For the first time since leaving the store, he turned fully towards you, his gaze still unreadable.
“Get inside and take all the bags with you,” he demanded.
And before you could respond, he looked away, unlocking the doors with a click, his expression already back into that indifferent look the Jeon hair has.
You climbed out, your heart still racing as you took the shopping bags from the back seat.
And when you stepped away from the car, holding the shopping bags, his car pulled away without even saying bye.
He left you standing in front of your building with your heart pounding louder than ever.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The moment the front door clicks shut behind you, silence swallowed the apartment whole.
It was just you, alone with memory of what happened.
You leaned against the door and exhaled like you’ve been holding your breath for hours. Maybe you have. From the changing room to the car ride back, your lungs haven’t felt like they belong to you. Jungkook stole every breath, every shaky gasp, and every sound you were too weak to hold back.
God, that kiss.
Your lips still tingle, swollen, as if his mouth just left yours seconds ago. You bring your fingers up, tracing them absentmindedly, but it’s useless.
No matter what you do, the ghost of him is there, his tongue against yours, his hand gripping your hair, and the way he pushed you to the mirror.
Your body betrays you, knees weakening just from the memory alone. Heat crawls up your face, shame and desire combined together until you can’t tell them apart.
You didn’t mean to kiss him.
That’s the truth. Or at least the truth you keep trying to convince yourself of. Because if you admit it then you would have to face the fact that you have crossed a line you can’t take back.
And Jungkook.
Jungkook isn’t the type to let it slide.
You still can’t believe you kissed the Jeon Jungkook. The Jeon heir.
You still can’t wrap your head on what just happened. You have tried so hard to never be in that part of the world again.
But now here you are, at home, after kissing the most sought-after bachelor, Jeon Jungkook, in a changing room.
The truth is you don’t have him figured out at all.
He is cold, dismissive, untouchable, until he wasn’t. Until he had you gasping in a changing room, your back against the mirror, your hands gripping on his shirt.
You stumbled towards your bed, collapsing face first into the sheets. The fabric smells like laundry detergent, not him, and the absence of him somehow stings. You rolled over, staring at the ceiling, and the silence grows louder.
Why did he do it?
Why did he kiss you like that?
Why did he kiss you back?
It didn’t feel casual or playful.
It was desperate and hungry. Like he has been holding back for too long and finally snapped. And yet, he stopped. The warning in his voice still rings in your ears: If I continued, the whole store would be hearing your moans.
Your body shivers at the memory, even as your mind screams at you to get a grip. He is teasing and taunting you. He was reminding you that he has all the control, that he could take you apart if he wanted, but he chose not to. And that choice makes you ache in ways you don’t want to name.
Because you wanted him to lose control.
You pressed your hands against your eyes, groaning into the silence of your apartment, but the thoughts won’t stop.
The way his hand gripped the steering wheel so tightly and how it made the veins in his arms visible. The way his jaw flexed when you challenged him, like he was holding back his words, or something else.
You hate him for it.
And you want him for it.
That’s the worst part.
Every cold response from him, every dismissive shrug, and every time he looked right through you, you should’ve taken the hint. You should’ve taken the hint and walked away.
You wondered what you were to him. The thought digs its claws in refusing to go away. You wanted answers, but you know Jungkook enough to know that he would never hand them over.
You scoffed at your own thoughts.
That cold, intimidating, and untouchable Jeon heir.
You turn onto your side, hugging the pillow next to you, frustration and longing mixing together.
If he wants you to suffer, it’s working. If he wants you to crave him, to think of nothing but his hands, his mouth, his eyes, and his beautiful face, it’s working.
God, it’s working too well.
And the scariest part?
You’re not sure if you want this to stop.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Jungkook is the type to always have things planned ahead.
Ever since he was a kid, he knows exactly what to do, how he will do it, and predict the consequences that come with it.
He’s strategic and calculated, Jungkook is well known for it.
So when you kissed him in the changing room, he was taken aback.
He wasn’t unhappy. But it wasn’t what he had planned for the both of you.
Jungkook’s hands rested on the wheel. His chest tightened, heat lingering like a shadow from the memory of you pressed against him and your lips on his.
He could still feel it, the way you clung to him, hesitant but bold at the same time. That small inhale you couldn’t hide, the flush in your cheeks that made him want to erase every last ounce of composure from you.
God, you were infuriating.
He wanted you so badly. He wasn’t used to being challenged. He wasn’t used to being unsettled. And here you were, shattering every wall he has built around himself.
The thought of you didn’t leave him, it wouldn’t.
The city's neon lights flickered through the window as Jungkook stepped into his penthouse, the familiar sound of the city a contrast to the silence in his place.
His mind is usually quiet, but it is now a whirlwind of thoughts after you kissed him.
He saw you only an hour ago, yet your presence lingered.
His thoughts were consumed by you.
He could replay it in his mind, over and over again. How your eyes widened in surprise when he kissed you back.
Jungkook exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair.
He hated the tension in his own body, the ache in his chest, the way his hands itched to be on you again. He hated that you have this effect on him, that you could make him feel exposed and completely unprepared.
And yet he wouldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop. Even now, alone, the sound of your gasps, was all he could hear.
He could act indifferent, cold, untouchable again.
But the truth was, every inch of him ached with your presence in his mind. He would replay it endlessly, savor the tension and the heat, repeatedly, until he couldn’t think of anything else.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Jungkook stepped under the water of his shower, steam rising around his muscular frame and water dripping down his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of his chest and abs, but on his mind was you.
He wrapped his hand around his hard cock, gripping tight, and began jerking off. His strokes grew more urgent every time his mind wanders back to the moment the both of you kissed in the changing room. Jungkook groaned as he envisioned you vividly. He could almost taste your lips again. The thought of you against his body made his cock swell even more in his grip.
But before he could feel the edge rushing closer, he removed his hand from his cock.
He felt pathetic.
Jungkook felt like this was wrong, which was weird.
He’s been stalking you for years, thinking of you every time he jerks off.
But now that you made the first move of kissing him, doing this behind your back suddenly felt wrong.
You are so much closer to him now, but he left the shower wondering if you would ever know how much he craved you.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The next day, you were walking down the street, your earphones in, lost in your own world as you walked towards the flower shop.
A few streets back, Jungkook’s car rolled forward in silence. His eyes were locked on you. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tight, and his focus sharp enough to cut through a glass.
The way your bag swings against your side with each step. The tiny pause in your walks when you glanced up at a street sign. He memorized it all.
Movements, habits, the smallest details, to Jungkook, watching you feels less like observation and more like muscle memory.
He leaned forward slightly, one elbow against the wheel. He was always a street or two behind. Never too close and never too far that he might lose you.
You finally turned the corner and reached the small flower shop, keys in your hand as you fit them into the lock. Jungkook’s car slowed, then eased into its usual spot in the parking lot, the engine stopping into silence.
From his seat, he watches you push the door open, the faint sound of a bell jingling inside. He didn’t move or blink, he just sat there watching you.
The shop lights flickered on the inside, painting a glow over your silhouette as you do your opening routine. He sat still in his car, hands resting on the wheel.
The minutes turned into an hour. He could sit there for even longer if he has to.
Because this was enough. Watching, waiting, knowing you were within reach and safe and sound.
You were already his.
Even if you didn’t know it yet.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The call came as the evening comes.
Jungkook was at his penthouse, reviewing financial reports for a branch he has been evaluating, the numbers projected to hit a record quarterly profit. His phone vibrated against his desk, his father’s assistant’s name flashing across the screen.
“Mr. Jungkook,” the voice sounding professional with an urgency behind it, “the Chairman is requesting your presence at the HQ. He insists it’s urgent.”
Jungkook’s brow furrowed, “Can this not wait?”
“No, sir. He specifically asked to see you today,” the assistant replied.
Jungkook ended the call after confirming he would be on his way. He straightened his tie, left the documents on his desk, and exited his penthouse.
Arriving at the HQ, Jungkook walked towards his father’s office.
The room was surrounded by a floor to ceiling window overlooking the city. His father stood behind the large, dark wooden desk, gaze sharp as he watched Jungkook enter.
“Son,” Mr. Jeon greeted him, “close the door behind you.”
Jungkook complied silently, stepping forward.
“Sit,” his father gestured to the chair across from him, “I’ll get straight to the point,” he began, “once you graduate, I will be sending you to Hong Kong to assume the CEO position for our operations there. It’s a critical region, your performance there will determine your readiness for succession as chairman here.”
Jungkook lets the silence stretch before he responded, “Hong Kong? My work here is just beginning.”
His father’s gaze sharpened, “Jungkook, the Hong Kong market is the most dynamic and crucial in the Asia-Pacific region. Our competitors are aggressive, we need someone capable and decisive. I cannot entrust this to anyone else.”
“I am capable,” Jungkook replied, “and I don’t need to prove anything abroad to earn my place here. Everyone in this country already recognizes my abilities.”
“Recognition and results are not the same thing,” his father countered, leaning forward slightly, “you think that simply because you are my son, because you’ve been groomed, the board and the market will accept you as chairman? You will face resistance even skepticism. You must demonstrate operational excellence outside your comfort zone.”
Jungkook remained calm and controlled, “My comfort zone is irrelevant. I am prepared for scrutiny and resistance. I can secure the acceptance as chairman without proving myself in Hong Kong.”
His father exhaled softly, eyes scanning the city skyline behind Jungkook’s chair, “Results are the only measure that matters in business, you know this. If you successfully manage the Hong Kong portfolio, you gain experience with the international boards. It’s a proving ground. It's an opportunity, not a punishment.”
Jungkook’s lips pressed into a thin line, “An opportunity designed for me to succeed by default. I don’t need an external proving ground. My track record is proof enough.”
“Track record in an environment you know,” his father replied sharply, “is not the same as leading a region with independent stakeholders, regulatory differences, and competition that has no ties to our family name.”
Jungkook leaned back slightly, “I have been trained for leadership. I understand corporate governance, shareholder expectations, and strategic execution. I can handle the international markets from here. Relocation is unnecessary.”
“Do you truly understand what is at stake?” Mr. Jeon's voice dropped slightly, serious and almost grim, “our expansion is critical to the company’s global positioning. This is not about training, it’s about ensuring the stability of our empire. You refusing is reckless.”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened, “I don't see the merit in leaving South Korea when I can influence more from here. My focus is strategic, not geographical.”
His father’s eyes narrowed slightly, “Influence is not measured by proximity alone. Leadership is about proving competence in environments where your name carries less weight. Your recognition here is tied to your lineage and familiarity with local structures. In Hong Kong, you must establish everything independently. That is the point. That is why no one else is suitable. Only you possess the skill, discipline, and judgment to make it succeed.”
“Only me,” Jungkook repeated, “you assume that sending me abroad will create legitimacy I already have. People accept me because they know I am competent. You are overestimating the necessity of proving myself overseas.”
His father’s tone shifted, becoming colder, “You underestimate the board, the investors, and the regional partners. They will test your leadership. If you fail to assert authority in Hong Kong, your credibility here will be questioned. It’s not about proving your competence to me. It’s about proving it to the world.”
Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, “Then let them question. I don't need relocation to validate authority.”
“You misunderstand,” Mr. Jeon replied, “you want to lead South Korea, but without experience managing outside your inherited structure, your readiness is incomplete. The board, investors, and the market will notice. You cannot ignore it.”
“I am always supposed to take your place,” Jungkook said, “The board, stakeholders, and the executives know this. Acceptance is guaranteed because I am competent. No foreign portfolio is required. My capability is evident.”
Jungkook leaned forward slightly before continuing, “I understand the scope. I understand the responsibilities. I have been preparing my entire life for this. My leadership does not depend on where I am stationed, but on how I execute.”
His father leaned back, his gaze fixed on his son, “You may think that, but I will not risk potential instability in succession. Hong Kong is non negotiable. You will go. I have already assessed the necessity. No one else can manage this responsibility. And if you succeed, you will strengthen your claim as chairman.”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened, “I do not need Hong Kong to prove anything.”
His father finally leaned back fully, a faint nod acknowledging Jungkook’s resistance, “You will go, Jungkook. Prepare accordingly. It is not an option. It is your first step towards your leadership over the Jeon company as a whole. Understand this clearly, you succeed there, you will be unquestioned.”
Jungkook exhaled slowly, “I understand.”
His father studied him for a long moment with an unreadable expression, “Is it because of her, the girl you’ve been following, that you’re insisting on staying in South Korea?”
Jungkook froze, “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he replied with a flat voice.
His father didn’t flinch or laugh, he leaned forward slightly, “If it is because of her, then don’t make it a problem. Form a team to take with you to Hong Kong and include her. She must be capable and competent enough to handle responsibility at that level or else she wouldn’t be on your mind.”
Jungkook’s jaw flexed subtly. He didn’t answer immediately as the words hit him differently than the rest of the conversation.
And Jungkook has no intention of revealing whether it was true or not.
“I see,” he finally replied with a controlled and neutral voice.
He didn’t nod, confirm, or even give an inch of a personal sentiment.
Yet, inside, his mind is focused on trying to find out who told his father about you and that his son has been following you.
Who has been watching him closely enough to know what he kept buried under silence and precision?
Jungkook wasn’t all that surprised though, if anyone could out-do him, it was his father.
His old man continued the Jeon empire on precision, information, and control; nothing slips past him.
His father’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, before returning to his papers as if the subject was settled.
Jungkook didn’t argue and didn’t acknowledge it further.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
As Jungkook disappeared from his office, Mr. Jeon remained seated on his desk, gaze fixed on the city skyline.
Mr. Jeon has known about you long before this conversation.
About the quiet way Jungkook’s routine changed, the nights his son spent sitting in the car, the way his son would ask Taehwan to follow you, the reports that never made it into official records but always found their way to his ears. Mr. Jeon has eyes and ears everywhere.
He has known everything and yet has said nothing.
For his son’s sake and most importantly, for his wife’s peace of mind.
Obsession was dangerous, yes, but it was also fragile. Exposing it too early and confronting it, might break something in Jungkook, something he needs to be intact if his son was to inherit everything.
And his wife has always been sensitive. If she ever discovers the truth of how her son’s gaze follow one girl with such intensity, it would unsettle her more than she could bear.
So, Mr. Jeon chose ignorance, he allowed the silence to protect them all.
Until that day you stepped into their mansion and sat at their dinner table. Your presence was disarming, polite and almost ordinary, but to Mr. Jeon, it was the confirmation he has been waiting for.
You weren’t just an obsession Jungkook was keeping in the shadows. You were someone his son was intent on bringing into their world again.
And that changed everything.
Mr. Jeon tapped the pen against his desk, eyes narrowing slightly.
If his son truly intended to bring you closer, to put you into the future he was building, then measures have to be taken.
The board would not forgive weakness. And your family’s history is poison; the corruption and embezzlement of state funds by your father could ruin Jungkook.
If you were to be brought into his family and the company, even indirectly, your family’s past must be addressed. The board and investors won’t tolerate the scandal. Mr. Jeon’s mind drifted, calculating options and strategies.
Perhaps a visit to prison is due.
With that, he returned his attention to ensure that nothing and no one would threaten the path he has envisioned for his son, Jungkook.
Desiring Defiance | Jeon Jungkook | Two Shot | Part Two
Summary: Jungkook, as a ruthless Mafia Lord, takes care of his own, but when his priority becomes you, imagine his surprise...and delight when he figures out you want nothing to do with him.
Pairing: Business woman f!reader x Yandere Mafia Lord Jungkook (Contract Marriage) (Jungkook's pov)
Word Count: 28.2k for both parts (strap in)
Warnings: Dark Romance, Power Play, Smut, Explicit Language, Weapons, Drugs, Violence, Death...basically everything that goes along with a yandere mafia romance.
A/N: I'm re-uploading this and making Jungkook the mmc...Hope you guy'll enjoy it with him instead. Thank you @bluehaven143 for supporting my choice in changing it 🫶🏼 love you to pieces
p.s. I split this up into two parts based off what had happened to the most recent mutual help chapter to avoid Tumblr yeeting my post lmao Requested by
@bluehaven143 💜
Sunday December 28th
After we were both properly spent, I carried her to bed, cleaning both of us up before sliding under the sheets next to her, neither of us bothering to get dressed...which made ending up in this predicament the next morning that much easier.
She wakes up to the feeling of one of my hands lazily tracing her curves, never being afforded the time to look at her, feel her completely bare.
Last night was rushed, but all the more exhilarating. Her gasps and whimpers are something I'll never forget and hope to experience for years to come.
One look in her eyes when she finally opens them tells me she hasn't had enough, leaving me wordlessly slotting myself between her legs.
"Morning," I mumble before dragging a finger between her folds, cursing when I find that she's already wet.
"S-so that really happened last night?" she asks, still not fully grasping the fact that she finally gave in, begged for it even.
"Mhm, and it's gonna happen again," I rasp, dipping a finger inside her while my thumb circles her clit, a gasp her response.
Her sounds get more honest when I let another join again; gone is the embarrassment, only the need for more remains.
Stretching her out is a task in itself that would make you think I hadn't fucked her properly last night.
"If you're already like this around my fingers, it'll be hard for me to be gentle with you." I groan, curling them just right, a moan slipping past her lips.
"Who said I wanted you to hold back?" she prods, and I know I've won in life.
"You like it rough when you first wake up? My my, Mrs. Jeon, you never cease to amaze me," a purr being her response.
I pull my fingers out and line myself up, pushing in until she's taken all of me, and after a few thrusts, we're interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing on the bedside table.
"What time is it?" she gasps, reaching for the phone, and I can tell it's a call she has to take, but I stay right where I am.
"Answer it."
"I ca-"
"Answer it!" I order, and she flinches enough that she answers it on impulse.
"H-hello?" she stutters, and I can tell that the person on the other end is already apologizing for waking her up early, my eyes going to the clock that reads 7:14.
"No, that's fine. Was there something you needed?" She bites down on her lips to keep her reactions at bay.
"Monsieur Moreau has requested that you meet him and Monsieur DuPont for breakfast this morning at nine," she relays, no doubt Moreau's executive assistant, that he's not so secretly banging on the side.
"Yes, of course I'll join them. W-where?" she stutters when I switch up my pace, putting herself on mute and reprimanding me, a cocky smile her only response as I keep it up.
The girl says something to the effect of she'll send her the details and is finally close to wrapping up the call, which I feel has lasted hours when in fact it's only been a minute or two.
I thank the stars when their goodbyes are close, but the act of doing something as forbidden as this is definitely something I would not mind trying again.
Perhaps with her riding me next time.
"Oh, and they've requested that you bring Monsieur Jeon as well if he's available," she adds, making my pace stutter, but I smirk, picking it back up, a gasp accidentally slipping from her lips.
"Ah-that's kind of them, but I believe he might be busy," she quickly declines, but when I give her a look that tells her I'm coming regardless, she backtracks.
"Actually, he's free, h-he'd love to join as well," she says, placing herself on mute again to scold me, but a sharp thrust drags a moan out in its place.
"I will inform them both and forward you the details, Madame. Would you like me to relay any other message?" she asks, finally finishing up.
"No, that'll be all. P-please thank them both for the invitation. We'll see them s-soon," she barely gets out, the secretary no doubt concerned with the way she's speaking but bidding her adieu nonetheless.
I grab her phone and hang up the call before tossing it to the other side of the bed, pinning both of her wrists above her head again so she won't try to reach for it.
"Couldn't you have waited?" she tries to growl, her words soon lost to her as I start a bruising pace, the headboard hitting the wall.
"Waited long enough for this. I'm not waiting again," I groan, her wrists no doubt aching from the grip. The fingers on my other hand dimple the skin on her waist, placed almost exactly where they had been last night, faint bruises left, making my need to mark her that much more vital.
~~~~
She's barely able to drag herself out of bed by the time I'm done.
Although I wouldn't mind if I could have a few more rounds. But alas, we have appearances to keep and responsibilities to fulfill.
She practically locks me out of the bathroom to prevent me from trying to continue our early morning activities in the shower.
Smart girl.
Once she's finished and finally opens the door, I'm tempted to grab her again, but she steps out of my reach and grabs her clothes for the day before rushing back into the bathroom.
I had showered and gotten ready in half the time she did, enjoying my time observing her as she walks to and fro, sitting at the vanity in the bedroom once fully dressed.
I watch curiously as she gets ready, taking time to make sure every hair is in place and every subtle touch to her makeup blends seamlessly.
She lets out a long exhale when she sees evidence of our escapades from last night on her neck and chest, quickly working her magic to cover them up, leaving me wishing she wouldn't.
She is a professional, though, and meeting clients with hickeys all over your neck does not bode well for closed deals and interests in continued collaboration.
She closes the cap on her lipstick with a snap, the natural color always having suited her, although I do enjoy a red.
For more reasons than one.
~~~~
I lead her with a hand on the small of her back once we step off the elevator and into the lobby.
The car having been pulled around front for us, my driver takes the keys from the valet and gets behind the wheel, already knowing exactly where we're off to.
"Please, no mention of your party unless they bring it up. They may have only accepted for the sake of appearances, so I don't want to make things more forced than they need to be," she says once we've arrived.
"I won't beg for their presence, darling, you should know me better than that by now," I hum, and she sucks her teeth before greeting the hostess at the front podium, soon calling over one of the waiters to show us to our table, where we can see that DuPont and Moreau have helped themselves to the cocktail menu.
"Gentlemen," I say as a greeting with both of them standing to greet us.
"So wonderful of you both to join us," DuPont smiles.
"Sorry for the last-minute invitation," Moreau apologizes and motions for both of us to take a seat, me pulling out her chair.
"Was there something you were looking to discuss?" she asks, quick to the point.
"I like her," DuPont chuckles, his reaction a mirror to Philippe's. "No funny business or beating around the bush with you, Mademoiselle," he says, taking on a more familiar tone.
"Your eagerness delights us both, I assure you." Moreau slides in, sending cautious glances at the CEO, who's devastatingly oblivious to the fact that I find the way he's addressing my wife is less than satisfactory.
"Nothing but a casual meal was what we had intended. Merely another way to get to know you, since we are planning on working together. We take our business relationships with our partners seriously and want to start on a strong note." DuPont drones on, and she nods along with it politely.
"A casual meal it is," she agrees and places her napkin in her lap.
~~~~
We spend the next hour or so talking about how we're liking our stay in Paris and how there are places we 'must go to' or things that are 'spectacular at this time of year'. Merely to show we're on their turf and would very much like us to remember that.
"We must be going, but please feel free to take your time finishing up. We have a meeting to attend across town," Moreau reminds while standing up, clearly the more responsible of the two. DuPont seemingly a figurehead at this point.
"Thank you so much for the lovely meal," she says, extending her hand to both of them while they do the same for me. When they finally leave, she practically collapses in her seat, clearly having been way more tense than I had perceived.
"You alright?" I watch, sitting casually back in mine, taking a sip of my espresso that has gone far too cold, grimacing at the bitter taste.
"Never better," she huffs half-heartedly.
"You seem quite exhausted, love," my false concern telling when I can't hide the amusement in my voice.
"Yeah, I wonder why," she scoffs, shaking off the fatigue seconds later once she's collected herself.
We sit in silence while she finishes her breakfast, having hardly touched it while the pair that fled mid-meal were still present.
"I have some matters to attend to, and I probably won't be back until late," I say, code word for 'It's better off if you don't know unless you want to be complicit'.
"I have plans of my own, so I'm sure I'll manage without you," she informs and dabs at the corners of her mouth before placing her napkin back on the table.
I cock a brow at her, showing I'm expecting her to elaborate.
"Mainly finalizing all the paperwork for the Nuvare deal and working through the next steps."
"So you're confident you've closed it?" I ask, watching as she stands up and straightens out her clothes.
"They wouldn't be kissing my ass if I didn't," she says with that air of confidence I know all too well.
"And what an incredible ass it is," I say, soft enough for only her to hear.
The look she gives scolds me enough, yet I can tell she enjoyed the compliment.
I tilt my head as I check her out, those long, wide-legged black slacks doing justice to her assets, the belt around her waist highlighting the curve of it.
"That's enough," she sighs and turns to leave, leisurely following her once I'm thoroughly satisfied with watching her walk away.
~~~~
After dropping her off at the hotel, my driver takes me to the slums of Paris, stopping only once we've reached a house so dilapidated one puff from the Big Bad Wolf would certainly blow it down.
The perfect cover.
I enter and walk through the painfully ordinary abode before reaching a bookshelf and tipping one unsuspecting novel forward, a door hidden behind opening with a satisfying click.
Once inside, one must descend a flight of stairs into the complete darkness, only to be met with an armored steel door at the end of the hallway.
You're given the choice of six hallways once you've gotten through that door, a hidden seventh one leading to my intended destination. The six more obvious ones mere façades. Mazes meant to trap and torture intruders when not so forthcoming with the information as to how they had 'stumbled' upon this place.
I use my biometric authentication security measures to get in, including but not limited to fingerprint, face scan, and voice verification.
You can never be too safe.
Behind the door, I'm met with a normal entryway you might find in any standard home, but behind those closed doors up and down the hallways are teams of people working on operations that could put us away for life if exposed.
My right-hand man here in Paris, Pierre, meets me with a respectful bow, which I hardly pay mind to, taking up residency in the chair that sat behind the large desk he claims as his in my absence.
"Bring him in," I say to the men behind him, one of them alerting the people clearly on standby, seconds later, dragging in a man who's seemingly unrecognizable at this point from how beaten and bloodied he is.
"You've trained my men to be thorough," I say to Pierre, sparing him only a glance when I round the desk, resting against it leisurely while looking at the man held up by either arm.
I give one of them a nod and have them lift his head that's hung low, the sight of his black and swollen eyes paired with a split lip, painful enough to make anyone hiss, imagining what he had gone through to get that.
"So you're the little up-and-coming coke dealer I've heard so much about, huh?" I tilt my head to catch his gaze.
"Can't even afford decent security, it seems, so how much of a clientele base could you have realistically built?" The furrowing of his brows is enough to know he's still fighting. The man on his left punches him in the stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of him, letting him fall to the floor.
He gasps before coughing out blood, a few drops falling mere inches away from my black patent leather shoes.
"Someone is backing you, and I want to know who," I demand, my tone even but cutting.
"No one," he slurs around his fat lip, drooling out a puddle of blood where he lies curled up in the fetal position.
"You're pretty loyal, aren't you?" I cock a brow, wondering what exactly this ghost of a puppet master has on him.
"They've been at it for twelve hours now and still..." Pierre reports with a scoff.
"Then they have my blessing to try harder," I pinch the bridge of my nose, ticked off by the fact they've been at it for this long with nothing to show for it.
I crouch down in front of him and look at the pitiful mess he's been made into.
"If only you had accepted employment rather than trying to make a name for yourself. Your father's death should've taught you that by now," a flash of confusion crosses his abused features before his no doubt swollen brain connects the dots.
"If you don't want to end up like him, then I suggest you start talking." Emphasis felt throughout the room on those last two words, leaving him grinding his teeth, me smirking before standing up to full height.
"I need forty men to work as the security detail at L'Hôtel Étoile de Minuit on the 30th," I relay to Pierre, but a look from the man who's cowering at my feet catches my eye.
"So that's who it is," my tone low as a smile tugs at the corner of my lips, a look of horror painted on his face.
His arms shaking as he tries to sit up, fighting to take it back, to make it seem as if I've got it all wrong, but I take up the task of kicking him in the stomach again, a sob escaping him.
"You don't understand. My family, my daughter, please, I beg of you!" his tone wavering, tears now falling when I'm sure they had been held back during the hours wasted on breaking him.
"Your sins will not be thrown upon them. Your family will be spared," the same thing my father once said to his, almost echoing through the room.
A rule he instilled when he handed me the keys to his kingdom.
'The sins of the father shall not harm the child.'
Yes, he has taken lives, and so have I. It comes with the territory, but people's families will never be used as leverage.
Especially children.
Children are to remain untouched.
It's the way my father and his father before him, so on, and so forth, have operated.
One of the many reasons we have maintained respect and control under the Jeon family name.
And I will not be the first one to break that cycle.
~~~~
That night, I told Pierre to deploy some men to gather intel on the vulture encroaching on my territory.
His identity now revealed makes things that much easier, especially because he's such a close friend.
Friends are just people destined to stab you in the back.
Swooping in and destroying everything you've built because they want a piece of the action.
He should know better than anyone else to stay in his lane.
~~~~~
"I'd like to take you out tomorrow," I announce to her as she comes out of the bathroom after having gotten ready for bed.
"Oh? And what makes you think I'd say yes?" she says while slipping under the silk sheets.
"I wasn't asking," I say, my tone showing there's no room for protests. "I want to buy you a dress," I continue, and her brow cocks at that.
"A dress?"
"Yes, a dress."
"I've brought some from home. I don't see why you'd feel the need to buy me a new one?"
"Am I not allowed to buy my wife a dress?" I grit my teeth at her constant refusal, and she finally gives.
"Fine. May I ask what this dress is for?" she sighs. For the smart woman she is, she's not considerate of my plans.
"The party?" I remind, and a look of recognition crosses her face.
"Right...party," she grumbles, turning off her bedside table lamp, clearly not interested in having a conversation, no doubt dreading the thought of having her most important clients in attendance.
She turns on her side to face away from me, so I sigh and place my phone face down, following suit with my light as well, both of us lying in bed as if we were strangers again.
~~~~~
Monday December 29th
Shopping with her has been no short of a ridiculous task.
She's looked incredible in all of the dresses she's tried on, but she has yet to find 'The One'.
She comes out of the dressing room in the seventh dress—yes, I've actually been counting—and that's in this store alone...but this time it's worth it.
"That's the one," I say with finality and nod to the saleswoman to ring it up.
She still turns this way and that in the mirror, looking at the way the white silk drapes over her form, resting in all the right places.
"Are you sure?" she asks, a crease drawn between her brows, but my only answer is a kiss placed on her bare shoulder, smiling against her skin when I see the way her lashes flutter in the mirror.
"Take it off," I say, squeezing her waist before walking away to pay.
I hover near the dressing room she had been using, and once she's ready to come out, I slip inside and press my hand against her mouth to keep her from screaming.
I take my hand off when she's got it in her head that speaking too loudly could cause a scandal, her brows draw together.
"If you keep frowning at me, you'll develop premature wrinkles, love," I tut, her swatting my hand away when I try to smooth it out.
"You shouldn't be in here," she whispers, and I can't help but smile at her weak argument.
"I do a lot of things I shouldn't do. I don't think sneaking into my wife's dressing room is going to grant me eternal damnation," I lean in, dragging my nose along her cheek, breath fanning her neck, her reactions so often held back are honest since that night.
My hands slide down her waist and past her hip, her thigh unconsciously raising to meet my grasp, my hand soon going up the dress she had worn here, her tights keeping me from her bare skin, making me rest my forehead against hers.
"Damn this weather," I growl and pull at her tights to show her my train of thought, but I'll leave her be this time. Hot and bothered is such a good look on her anyway.
I turn to leave the room, and she pulls me back.
"That's it?" she asks, clearly feeling cheated.
"Weren't you the one who was trying to keep me out?"
She glares and brushes past, letting out a breath as she tries to regain a sense of decorum.
She makes it way too easy.
~~~~
When we walk into the hotel lobby, my jaw ticks when I see him.
"Just the man I was looking for," Philippe says as he walks over, giving her a polite greeting at a respectable distance, some would think...but way too close given what I now know.
I shake his hand, although I squeeze a bit tighter than usual, which catches him off guard, but I pull away before I can do the real damage that should be done.
"I wanted to see if you could join me to finalize the arrangements for your party tomorrow," he clears his throat, the switch up making him sweat.
"I'm not too picky when it comes to details. You know how to throw a good party, do you not?" I arch my brow in a way that tells him I have no intention of continuing this conversation, a hand now placed on her lower back to lead her upstairs.
"Right. I'll have my assistant wrap everything up then. We'll start at seven, then?" he asks, wanting to at least confirm the start time.
"Seven," I nod and lead her towards the elevators, taking the conveniently vacant one to our left to go up to our suite, a just as solitary ride all the way to the top.
"Did something happen?" she whispers as if she were afraid of the answer.
"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, love." granting me a scowl in return.
"Some business dealings around here are not being handled properly in my absence," code word for it's better off if you stay as far away from it as you can.
Although from the huff she lets out, it's clear that she's not happy with the answer, but she leaves it be, nevertheless.
My phone ringing cuts off our potential conversation, leaving her sighing and slipping off her shoes once we get inside.
"I'm going to take a shower," she announces as a way to show she wants no part in it despite her curiosity, leaving the corner of my mouth turning up before answering the phone.
One of my men, who was tasked with the job of digging up everything on Philippe and his little try at playing mafia, comes to the phone.
I grind my teeth when I hear he's gained a territory in the west that I've been working my way over to for a while now.
"How long has this been going on?" I growl, and I can tell he doesn't want to say.
"Two years," he breathes out, relieved that he's on the other side of the phone versus relaying the news in person.
"Add ten more men to your team. I want this snuffed out. Now. No one in Paris will be dealing with anyone except me. My father's legacy will not become a laughing stock because someone's bastard child wanted to play pretend," my breathing growing labored.
"Tomorrow night I want to see his face in the crowd when he realizes the game he thinks he's been so cleverly playing behind my back is over," the grip on my phone iron, a wonder how the screen hasn't shattered yet.
"When the clock strikes midnight, we'll send a message that will make this stupid fantasy of his come crashing down".
"Yes, sir," he simply replies. Leaving me to end the call.
I toss my phone aside and head into our bedroom, ripping off my tie and throwing my suit jacket on the bed.
Two years.
Two fucking years I let this man play me for a fool.
Never again.
Her humming in the shower, though, stops my spiral; the patter of the rain shower echoes throughout the room.
I get up and check the door, turning the knob the slightest bit, seeing that she left it unlocked.
I take off my shoes and shirt, tossing them to the side before walking in in just my slacks. The silhouette of her through the foggy glass is enough to make my thoughts from earlier completely vanish.
"Dangerous of you to not lock the door," my voice makes her jump.
"What are you doing in here?" she asks, shaken from the scare.
"What do you think I'm doing?" I say, the sound of my zipper makes her audibly gulp.
"Go take a shower in the other bathroom." Her efforts to shoo me away are weak at best. The airy nature of her tone shows I've already won.
"No, I think I'll stay right in here," my tone low with a finality that shows I have no intention of doing anything other than being in here with her.
My hand reaches for the handle of the shower door, opening with ease, another sign of her having given in, no protest now that I've gotten this far.
She stands there, already backing into a corner at the sight of me.
There's no real fear in her eyes.
Naked and vulnerable and utterly captivating.
Water droplets bead on her skin, my eyes following the ones that trail between her legs, thighs pressed together.
I take a step inside and then another, closing the door behind me.
She swallows the lump in her throat as I come closer, arousal taking over her senses.
She blinks up at me, her vision trained as if I'm the only person on her mind right now. Her pupils dilate, making my cock twitch.
I cup her chin, my thumb dragging along her bottom lip, her body already pliant from one touch.
"You gonna let me fuck this pretty face?" I pull down her lip, her mouth already relaxed, her answer is clear.
"Let me see those pretty knees on the floor for me," I coach, one of her hands going to rest on my hip as she steadies herself, looking at me through her lashes once she's kneeling in front of me.
The hand she uses to steady herself against me tightens its grip, nails biting into my skin, the pain only arousing me further.
Her eyes trail down my torso, stopping once she sees how hard I am for her, gulping again like the good little slut she is.
I see the way she wets her lips, the way her thighs shift to ease the throbbing between her legs, leaving me tilting her chin up.
"Do you know how to use this mouth for something other than talking back?" I hum, running my thumb along her bottom lip again, soon taking it into her mouth.
I curse and pull it out, "Why don't you wrap those pretty lips around my cock instead, hm?"
Her wet lashes flutter as her eyes trail down my body again, no longer able to ignore my erection that has been hardening in front of her.
She wraps a hand around the base, her grip firm, but her hands are trembling. I wonder what's going on in that pretty little head of hers.
She brings the tip to her lips and gives it a kitten lick, watching for my reaction before swirling her tongue around the head, sucking it in.
My thighs flex, one of my hands rests on the tiled wall, while the other pushes back some of the wet strands of hair that have begun to stick to her face.
Fuck, she's beautiful.
She slowly works more of me inside of her, my attention focused on her, the feeling of the warm water beating down my back, and the cold tile against my skin creates enough of a temperature contrast to make this all the more pleasurable.
"That's it, doing so good for me. So focused and careful," I coo, noticing she's taking her time getting used to my size. I don't mind, she can take as long as she wants. As long as she keeps her mouth on me, I have no complaints.
I curse when she sucks a bit harder, her teeth lightly dragging along my shaft, making me groan.
"Careful, love," I hiss as the pleasure mixes with the pain.
She pulls back to catch her breath, drool on her chin mixing with the stream that manages to get past me and onto her, the cool air with the steam slowly taking over, goosebumps all over her skin, her nipples hard and enticing.
I caress her face, my touch tender, yet my eyes, I'm sure, show a raw hunger for her.
She leans into my touch, still catching me off guard, but I don't let it show.
"So pretty," I mumble, my thumb running along her lip again, more red and swollen.
"You can take it, can't you?" I coach, my fingers now holding her chin, making her nod.
I take up the task of taking myself in my hand and lining it up with her lips, dragging the tip along them as if it were a lewd form of lip gloss, my precum adding to the image.
She opens her mouth and takes me in again, one of my hands resting against the wall, the other combs through her hair, twisting near her scalp to create a hold on it.
"Tap twice if you need me to stop," I say once her pretty eyes make contact with mine, two blinks being her way of showing she's understood, a smirk on my face.
"You're gonna make me cum with those eyes, pretty," the praise clearly going straight to her core as she rubs her thighs together, me letting out a dark chuckle.
"Breathe through your nose," I say before doing a shallow thrust into her mouth, her gag reflex kicking in, letting me know I should be careful at first.
I rock into her mouth, her nails clawing into my thighs as she focuses on her breathing.
She does not want anyone to underestimate her in anything.
It's apparent as she starts pushing herself further down my length, taking more in as she's starting to become impatient with my care for her.
"Greedy little thing," I growl, still trying to keep myself from thrusting too hard. "And here I was trying to be gentle with you."
I let my thrusts become steadier, the rhythm still slow, but a bit deeper as she seems to crave. Her eyes fix on mine, rolling back once I've been going a little too long, making me pull her off of me with a pop.
She coughs at the loss of me, sucking a steady stream of air into her lungs.
She probably would've let me fuck her mouth until she passed out if I weren't careful.
So so greedy.
I pull her to her feet, pinning her to the wall and making her gasp for more than just air as the freezing tile bites at her warm skin.
Her chest is pressed against mine, her eyes more clear yet still in a cock-drunk haze.
Fuck, how did I get so lucky?
I grab one of her thighs now, wrapping it around my waist and dragging my tip through her wet folds. She shivers at the contact when I circle it around her clit, so swollen and begging for my touch.
"Did you get this wet from letting me fuck your face?" noticing the way her slick mixes with the shower stream.
The way she mewls tells me more than enough.
I drag my fingers along her cunt and start to push a finger in, but she shakes her head and grabs my wrist.
"What is it?" I ask, my tone even, wanting to stretch her out, but she shakes her head again.
"Words, pretty," I lean in, mumbling it against her neck, peppering kisses along it.
"I need you," she chokes out.
"You have me," I respond, her groan of frustration tugging at the corner of my lips.
"Just fuck me, Jungkook" she growls, and I suck my teeth before pushing just the tip into her pretty little pussy, sucking me in so well.
I watch as her brows pinch together, breathing through the stretch, clenching around me.
"More," she murmurs, her leg flexing and bringing me closer, more of me slipping inside of her.
"So impatient," I growl, pushing the rest inside of her, her eyes struggling to stay open, her body trembling in my arms.
"Such a good girl for me, taking me so well and demanding more. How cute," I taunt, her eyes pealing open enough to glare.
"There she is. My gorgeous wife, who couldn't stand the sight of me. Now look at you, losing all your words as you let me, excuse me, beg me to fuck you."
Before she can even think to say anything, I thrust further into her, making her take it all.
Her eyes roll back when I'm balls deep inside her, gripping my length as if it were a lifeline.
So so pretty.
I look at her, brows still drawn together, hair stuck to her face, and water beading on her skin, trailing down, down, down until it stops where our bodies meet.
My hands trail up her torso and palm her breasts, letting my thumbs circle her nipples, pinching them to make her mewl, a sly smile spreading across my lips.
So pliant, so dazed and utterly mine.
My hands grip her hips with a bruising force as I thrust into her, pressing her hips further against the wall to keep her in place.
Her sounds are sinful as they echo throughout the bathroom and no doubt the entire suite. My men outside, no doubt enjoying the melody of her screams.
Her nails dig in deeper as she gets closer to that edge. No longer mere crescent moons dimpling my skin, the bite of them now is deep, blood no doubt drawn from the way it stings.
"That's it, doing so well for me."
~~~
Our night ends in the tub, having filled it up with steaming hot water, a lot of which has sloshed out onto the floor from the final round we had in here, leaving us refilling the tub and finally letting our bodies fully soak in the numbing heat.
"What happened out there?" I hum in response, asking her to elaborate.
"You seemed upset when you came in, distracted, or using me as a distraction," she says, coming to a conclusion within the same sentence.
We sit on either side of the tub, facing each other, her pulling her knees up to her chest as a form of comfort. Making herself smaller as she gains the courage to ask me questions she may not get the answers to. Or at least not the ones she wants.
"There have been some...complications brought to light today. Betrayal, to sum it up in one word," my response vague enough to keep her out of it, but telling enough to know the severity.
In my line of work, trust means everything.
Loyalty to your dying breath is expected.
Anything less leaves you open, vulnerable, worthless.
Words can't even begin to describe how deep this cut is.
He was my friend.
A familiar face withdrawn enough from the darkness of my reality to give me respite, yet accustomed to it enough to not need explanations or apologies.
"I need you to stay by my side tomorrow night," telling, not asking.
"I'll need to entertain my clients, Jungkook. You're the one who invited them," she points out the undeniable fact that I was the one who got us into this mess.
Instead of being safely on my arm, her focus will be divided, wandering.
Fuck.
"You don't need to babysit them."
"You're the one who-"
"I know what I did! Just...don't do anything reckless," my tone softer, tender almost towards the end, clearly catching her off guard, the sentence before biting enough to make her flinch.
She looks at me for another second before getting out, grabbing one of the plush white towels hanging nearby to cover herself.
I let out a breath and sink further into the tub once she's closed the door behind her, thankful for the moment of solitude but missing her grounding presence already.
I can't let myself become reliant on her.
She's my wife, but getting feelings mixed up in this wasn't part of the plan.
It isn't.
It's not.
She's my wife, and she brings comfort; there's nothing wrong with that.
She can be someone who keeps me sane by driving me insane, yet brings a sense of serenity without being someone who makes me susceptible to weakness.
Who am I kidding? I've been weak since the moment I laid eyes on her.
I brushed it off as mere attraction, lust, a passing fancy even.
This is no longer that.
This is raw and real and terrifying.
I can't call it...that.
I won't until I know if she feels the same.
This isn't good.
This is not good.
Why now?
Why this sudden earth-shattering realization that I would let the world burn for her now?
I get out of the tub as well, drying myself off and heading into our room, needing to clear my head.
The steam in the bathroom did wonders for keeping me in that cozy bubble. The one that bursts the moment the cool air hits when I open the door.
Once I've gotten dressed, I leave the bedroom and find her on the balcony, overlooking Paris and all its glittering lights, the tower mesmerizing her. I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, resting my head on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," I mumble against her neck, making her turn her head towards me.
"What for?" she asks, not truly convinced.
"For snapping at you," I simply say, leaving her nodding in response.
"You've never apologized for that before...never truly apologized to me for anything," she murmurs after a stretch of silence.
"Maybe I should start," I say and turn her by her hips to face me, which she reluctantly does, dragging her gaze away from the silent snowy night.
"I meant what I said about staying by my side," I say a bit softer this time, caressing her cheek and tilting my head to catch her eye.
She nods and lets her gaze drop for a moment.
I hook my finger under her chin, bringing her eyes back up to mine.
"I haven't been fair to you," I admit, her breath hitches. The fact that this small admission of fault has caught her off guard tells me enough.
I've fucked up.
"I have something for you," she says, quickly going around me, breaking up this intimate moment that has nothing to do with the kind of intimacy we share.
I turn around and watch her grab something out of her purse.
She comes back over and hands it to me, a small black box and ribbon, simple and sleek.
This is the first gift she's ever given me.
"Aren't you going to open it?"
"I'm relishing in the moment," I whisper, a snort being her response.
"Not the reaction I was expecting from the just box, but okay."
Opening the present, I'm met with a small collar, making my brows furrow.
"I don't think this is going to fit you." I hold it up to her neck, and she scoffs, a smile curling on my lips.
"Here," she says, and grabs her phone off the coffee table, showing me a small brown and tan thing with floppy ears and eyes wide and curious.
"What is it?" My brows furrow, taking a closer look.
"It's a dog," she sighs, though I can see that she's nervously awaiting my final reaction.
"I've seen pictures of you as a child with Dobermans, and since we don't have any pets, I figured you might like to have one," she says as if it were the simplest thing on earth...and one might argue it is.
For us, however, it's different.
We've never talked about our pasts, our childhoods, or even our parents.
Our lives together have been about the here and now, and the fact that she went through the effort of getting a gift as thoughtful as this shows me that things have changed between us.
It's a step forward, no matter how small it may be.
~~~
Tuesday December 30th
The next morning, I feel her stirring, slowly trying to slip out of my arms as we somehow ended up in the position of me holding her from behind as we sleep.
I smile at her efforts and let out a soft chuckle, pulling her back into bed.
"And where do you think you're going?" I mumble in her ear, peppering kisses along her neck and shoulder.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she apologizes, submitting to my physical request to stay put as she knows it would be a losing battle to protest without good cause.
"What time is it?"
"Nine...happy birthday," she mumbles after a pregnant pause.
"It is when I have you in my arms," I purr in her ear.
"Okay, gross," she untangles herself from me and gets out of bed.
"What? Was it something I said?" I smirk, noticing how flustered that made her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.
I let my eyes trail up and down her form, noticing that she's wearing the skimpiest of pajamas. Those shorts practically painted on her, and that blouse way too sheer to be hiding anything.
I smirk when I see her press her thighs together, not having moved since she got out of bed.
"Going somewhere?" I ask, propping myself up on one elbow, a lazy smile now replacing my earlier smirk as I watch her reluctantly check me out.
"I'll take that as a no," I say, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to bed, wrestling around for a moment before I've slotted myself between her legs.
"What are you-?"
"It's my birthday, is it not?"
Her eyes narrow, tugging on the corner of my mouth.
"So I think I deserve a little bit this morning too, no?" I rasp, rolling my hips against hers, her breath hitching, letting me know I've got her right where I want her.
~~~
Once she's finally convinced me to relinquish my hold on her, I decide the next order of business is to order room service, neither of us having the energy to fend for ourselves in any other way.
I try to follow her in the shower again, but she knows better this time and has locked the door, tisking in response but taking my leave, opting to go shower in the other bathroom.
When I come out, I see that she's made herself at home, having our breakfasts already on the table, scrolling through her phone with her brows furrowed.
"You'll get frown lines if you keep glaring," I say again as a way to announce my presence, quickly locking her phone and placing it face down...interesting.
"You waited for me?" I hum, delighted that she did, intentional or not.
"I was...distracted," she excuses, a glance at her phone betrays her.
"Distracted?"
"Yeah, but I'm not anymore," she says and takes the silver cover off her plate, revealing her simple breakfast.
"Right," I say, clearly not convinced, following suit with my plate as well, presenting an equally simple but heartier one.
Worked up an appetite to say the least.
Our morning is as simple as our breakfasts, calm yet comforting. The first one we've ever experienced together, but her guilty expression from earlier and her clear discomfort have me questioning things.
"How are you feeling?" I ask an open-ended question to avoid raising her suspicions.
"I'm okay. A little...but I'm okay," she alludes to what I had already suspected, making me nod.
"I'll try to hold back a bit more next time," I say, a wicked smirk behind my coffee mug, making her mumble.
"What was that?" I ask, nodding towards her phone.
"Work stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary," she says, not even bothering to touch her phone.
"Right. Well, let me know if you need any guidance. You know how much I love giving unsolicited advice."
"And you know how much I love receiving it," she quips, our back and forth more playful now, the bite smoothed out since...
"Do you have any plans for the day?" I ask, curious to see if work is the thing that will be preoccupying her both day and night, night being thanks to me and my backfired scheming.
"I think I'll do some more research on Nuvare, so I have more talking points for tonight," an expected and responsible response.
"All work and no play makes Mrs. Jeon a very dull girl," I taunt, rolling her eyes once the words have left my mouth.
"I think I've had plenty of fun lately, Mr. Jeon," crossing one of her legs over the other. A way to release some tension or to add emphasis to her words? I have no clue. But either option makes the corner of my mouth turn up.
"Not enough," my eyes trail her form, freshly showered but not fully ready, a state very few have probably seen her in. The marks I've left on full display, making me want to bend her over this table, but I'll give her a break; she does need to walk tonight.
~~~
After breakfast, I decide to accept Philippe's invitation to do a last-minute inspection of the party matters for tonight.
I can't let him know that I know...but that doesn't mean I can't make him sweat a bit.
I'm let into his office by his assistant, leaving him ending the call he had been on moments later.
"You look rather refreshed this morning. Paris doing you some good?" he asks, his friendly demeanor off-putting now, but I accept his outstretched hand nonetheless.
"Something like that," my handshake noticeably firm, his surprise from the feeling mirroring the previous one.
"Well, everything has been taken care of for your celebration tonight. All of your associates in Paris and the surrounding areas have been invited and have all graciously accepted your invitation, so there should be a sizable turnout."
His words bore me as they are all colored with the betrayal that's now hung over both of our heads. Who knew he would be such a great actor?
"Jungkook?" he says, garnering my attention, having walked over to one of his windows that overlooks Paris, the view being one of my favorites.
I turn my head to show he's got my attention.
"You seem out of sorts," he laughs halfheartedly, clearly getting nervous.
"I seem to have caught wind of something...unexpected while here," I say, his silence noted.
"It's been weighing on my mind, but it'll be dealt with soon enough," I leave his office after a pregnant pause, slowly making my way out without another word.
He doesn't make moves to stop me or ask where I'm going, and that tells me more than enough.
Half-truths and cryptic messages are something I'm not opposed to using, as they are what make most guilty parties squirm.
The thought of being caught but not confronted.
Knowing that saying something may incriminate them further, but if they don't, it could all blow over if the other party lacks substantial evidence and decides it's not worth the fuss.
Always weighing one over the other, deciding if they should come clean or recoil further within themselves and hold their cards close.
~~~~~
I watch her in the mirror again, having finished getting myself ready and deciding to ignore the rest of the world in favor of observing her.
I found it quite entertaining the last time, and this time is no different, but when she goes to look for her jewelry, I get up and walk behind her, placing a black velvet box in front of her.
"You didn't have to get me anything," she sighs, keeping her hands in her lap, but her eyes stay trained on the box.
"I know, but it's my birthday, so I'm allowed to do whatever I want. Especially when it comes to you." I purr in her ear, opening the box and revealing a silver necklace with a small blood ruby teardrop-shaped pendant.
"Jungkook" she gasps, now picking up the box to take a closer look, the gem catching the warm light.
I take the box from her moments later, placing it on her, my fingertips dancing along her sensitive skin, the dark red eye catching against the pure white, sleek fabric. Like heaven with a touch of sin.
"You ready?" I mumble against her neck, placing a soft kiss below her ear. Her breath hitches, making her nod in response before getting up and putting on a spritz of that perfume she knows drives me wild. A warm vanilla scent with a mix of cinnamon and something deeper. Amber maybe?
Everything ceases to matter when she turns to me, a soft smile on her face as she waits for me to lead the way.
"You look beautiful," I say softly, something I've seldom said to her, and the look on her face shows she'd noticed the difference.
"Thank you," she says softly, her nature so drastically different than before.
Has the intimacy changed her? Softened her nature? Or has the romance of Paris gotten to her head?
I try not to linger on it too much, try not to rationalize it, and enjoy the fact that she's finally started to feel comfortable around me. Seems to even enjoy being with me...so let's keep it that way.
My man standing at the door opens it as if on cue, having already called the elevator up, leaving our journey considerably shorter. The act of waiting for the elevator to reach the top floor is something I'm happy to avoid, leaving me nodding to him in thanks.
This ride down is calmer, nicer, almost; the absence of her teeth grinding in fury is noticeable.
"I'll try not to introduce you to too many people, but as this is our first appearance in Paris together, people will be dying to know who managed to grab my attention, and keep it."
The elevator dings when we've reached the ground floor, and once we step out, I notice her start to toy with her wedding ring, the diamond glittering in the prismatic lighting from the crystal chandeliers above us.
A few vaguely familiar faces pass by, some bold enough to offer a hand to shake, while others merely nod or offer a bow of varying heights.
"That's the prime minister," I say softly, pointing out a tall yet stout older gentleman and his wife, not having noticed us yet.
"He's here? Do you-?"
"He's an old friend of my father's. They met when he was a little bit lower in the ranks," I mumble, nodding to a few people that pass by, grabbing both of us a champagne flute when a waiter comes to offer them.
"Does he...?" she asks, the end of her question self-explanatory.
"You know very well that no politician's hands are ever clean," I confirm, nodding to him when he finally catches my eye, quickly wrapping up his conversation to come our way.
"How wonderful it is to see you in Paris again," he says warmly, extending a hand.
"It's been too long," I shake it before turning to offer a smile to his wife.
"This is my wife, y/n," my hand resting on the small of her back.
"She's even more lovely in person," he compliments, my hand now snaking around to grip her waist.
"Monsieur Prime Minister, it's a pleasure," she says politely, that rehearsed smile on her lips as always. Convincing to most, but I know she could've done without that comment, especially not with his wife standing right there, who he hasn't even brought into the conversation yet.
She smiles at his wife, and it's then that he ushers her to come closer, introducing her clumsily.
After some small talk, clearly seeing he's out of his element, I can tell his eyes are shifting, knowing there are no doubt others like me here.
It's almost comical, but I don't draw attention to it.
"We'd better go make our rounds," I say as a way to politely end the interaction. Keeping up appearances with political figures is important, but it's not a necessity for me to kiss their ass.
Pleasantries and giving strategic charitable donations keep my empire secure, something my father always taught me. A firm handshake and generous contribution means everything to people of their caliber, so it's a small price to pay in the long run.
I introduce her to a select few; some brave souls approach us to exchange well wishes on my next lap around the sun.
Until she spots DuPont and Moreau.
"I have to go to them," she whispers, making me spare a glance in their direction.
"There's no reason to be so eager, darling. We'll make our way over," I say softly, my hand on her back subtly pulls her closer. "Let them settle in for a while. They know you're busy entertaining," I remind, wanting her to regain some control.
Surprisingly, she stays, trusting my advice this time and taking a sip from her glass.
I always forget how elegant she looks when we attend events such as this. Whereas with ones in the past, I had more often than not preoccupied myself with the task of making sure she didn't wander off.
There have been nights when she's avoided me at all costs, staying on the opposite side of the room until she slips up and finds herself in a fascinating conversation, leaving her open to my sudden appearance at her side.
This time, though, it's as if she's leaning into me, almost hesitant to leave my side. Granted, we are in a foreign country, in a room with people she's only seen on front-page headlines or in foreign news reports, so her need for familiarity is understandable.
It is, however, her job to be versed in what's happening in the global climate, tasked with knowing when, where, and with whom to strengthen her company's relations.
"Mister and Misses Jeon, you two are quite the pair," DuPont greets, Moreau following close behind, both accompanied by their wives.
"Thank you for coming. It's an honor to have you both here," she replies, a reserved nod being my greeting of choice.
My hand takes up its place on her lower back, keeping her grounded as a small reminder that kissing their ass in this setting is unnecessary. As the hostess, she should be gracious, not grovel.
In the midst of the polite conversation with her clients, one of my men comes up to inform me of a party crasher. One of my not-so-civil ex-business partners of sorts, nodding towards his location.
"I'll handle it," I murmur, a regurgitated 'Yes, sir' his ending response.
"Darling," I redirect her attention to me, Dupont and Moreau's wives visibly swooning at the interaction. "I have to go greet an old friend. Would you all look after her in my absence?" I request, all of them glad to take up the role, leaving me nodding in thanks before pressing a kiss to her cheek.
She grabs my wrist before I'm able to get too far and takes a step or two away from the group.
"Is everything okay?" Her brows furrow, clearly sensing something is off, my sudden urgency to leave her side is concerning.
"It's nothing," I place a kiss on her forehead before leaving, my wrist slipping out of her grasp.
I can feel her eyes on me as I walk away, a new sensation that I've begun to enjoy a little too much. No matter, her attention is something I will constantly desire, regardless of the form.
"Well, well. If it isn't the birthday boy himself?" his slurred sentiments are something I always found rather irritating.
"You've barely walked in, Stephen, and yet you can hardly stand. Then again, you could never hold your liquor," a smirk drawn on his face, the condescension expected, welcomed even.
"You haven't changed one fucking bit. A stuck-up, entitled brat trying to fill his father's shoes."
Two of my men have already started to close in, our body language alone firing off signals that there may be more to this than a subtle chat.
"I'm sure you didn't come all the way here just to throw stones...did you? So what is this really about?" I cut the crap, patience already thin.
Stephen was one of my father's most trusted advisors back when he started. His information and insights were perfect...too perfect.
It was found out later that he had been an informant for a rival family a few cities away, slowly sending rats in to sniff out opportunities for ruin. My father was furious, beat him black and blue, disgraced him in the eyes of the underworld, and exposed him as being an incompetent snake.
Who would trust someone who was so easily swayed? A dollar amount waved in his face, and all sense of loyalty was forgotten.
The only reason he is alive is due to my father's promise to his mother.
God rest her soul.
Her family had been devout followers and supplied many men to the Jeon family, but one bad egg spoiled the lot. When his mother found out...saw how badly he had been beaten, she begged my father for mercy.
Who was he to deny a dying woman's final request?
If the choice were mine, I would have snuffed him out the moment she passed, but my father is...was a man of integrity, and I'll be damned if I'm the one who goes back on his word.
Stephen's life, however, has been over the moment he was outed. He outed himself by mouthing off to one of the other members about how, if he had been given more respect and prestige, then he wouldn't have had to seek validation and honor from the other side.
He felt he was entitled to a higher position when the next step up in the hierarchy would be my father's...and we all know what happens when you get too power hungry.
"I wanted to see what a mockery you've made of the Jeon family legacy up close and personal," his yellow-toothed grin adding to his already pathetic nature.
"If you want to talk about a mockery, then why don't you check your reflection?" I scoff; his audacity to come run his mouth is surprising.
"Your choices and disloyalty brought dishonor upon your entire bloodline, so don't you dare lecture me about what a disgrace I am when all you've accomplished is fucking up your future and the ones you leave behind." I stalk towards him, his steps faltering, leaving him stumbling into the men I've chosen to escort him out.
His eyes darken when he catches a glimpse of something behind me...or rather someone.
"Jungkook," I hear her say, her tone level, but I can feel the uncertainty laced throughout that single word.
"This must be our new queen, is it not?" She comes into my peripheral, her body tensing at his words, catching on to exactly what kingdom he deems her the ruler of. "She's a vision, Jeon. It's no wonder you had to have her," he continues, my right hand balling into a fist.
She takes notice and carefully lets her hand trail down my arm, my fingers momentarily loosening their contracted muscles enough for her to lace ours together.
"I think it would be best if he left. People are starting to stare," she mumbles softly, a plea disguised as a suggestion, making Stephen chuckle, his simple reaction meant to mock her.
"She's got you by the balls already? Who knew a piece of ass could make you this pitiful?" he scoffs.
My men, drag him away before he's even able to complete his insult, knowing well enough that he's had way too much time to spout out his disrespect.
The cackle he lets out garners more onlookers' attention before he's finally taken into the shadows. The atmosphere left behind is tense, but the people in attendance know well enough that a party such as this would not feel complete without an outburst or two.
"I'll deal with him later," I turn and mumble against her ear. "Are you alright?" I turn her slowly to face me, clearly shaken by the interaction, she nods.
"I'm alright, that was...I'm fine," she says, her hand trembles in mine, leaving me kissing the back of it.
"It's an ugly and unfortunate situation that I can't promise won't happen again. Just know that his words mean nothing to me. My reasons for rage are merely because I never want anyone to see you as a toy when you are so much more to me."
Her eyes widen at the confession, softening once she sees my sincerity in it, but before I'm able to say much else, another one of my men comes to relay more information.
"Sir, everything's ready," the message vague enough to keep her in the dark about the specifics, but clear enough to cause concern.
"What's ready?" she asks once he's gone back into position, more suspicious than ever.
"You remember that betrayal I mentioned?" I remind, and she nods.
"Well, let's just say a message is being sent to the one at the center of it all." I plan to leave it at that, but once she's traced my gaze to Philippe, realization strikes her.
"I thought he was your friend?" she asks, the concept of him being the accused is hard for her to accept.
"So did I," I murmur.
"Wait, the Prime Minister, the man from before, and now Philippe...Jungkook, what the fuck kind of party is this?" More and more dots connect, and I know now that keeping her in the dark on the matter may not have been the smartest decision.
"Honey-"
"Don't," she growls, stepping back and slipping her hand out of my grasp, her moves fluid as not to garner more attention than necessary.
She walks away from me, her hands now the ones balled into fists, rage bubbling under the surface, making her rigid. The way the white silk sways with her every movement, though, makes her journey seem graceful.
I follow at a leisurely pace, nodding to the ones who let their vision trail from her to me. The undertone to my passing greeting being to stay out of it.
She leaves the door to the storage room ajar, both of us knowing damn well if I were to ignore her nonverbal demand, it could very well be the end of us...of what we have become.
Her eyes bore holes in my face, the sight of them alone making me gulp...But I can't let her win.
Stephen's words come back to me, and although they don't hold weight, the venom he spat still stings.
Am I truly letting my father's life's work lie to waste in favor of dealing with things in my own way? Are my reactions not severe enough? Have I become too soft?
I can't let that happen.
I won't.
Maybe I need to be the one who ends it all.
"How could you bring me to a party like this? How could you invite my clients to a party full of Mafia? Are you insane?" she yells, and I can't wipe the grin off my face, amused at the fact that she finally noticed.
I need to go back to who I was before I let her get to me...to my heart.
"Last I checked, love, you're Mafia." I stalk closer, but she trades places with me, her back now facing the storage room door for the quick escape I'm sure she's planning to make.
"I am not Mafia!" she growls, acting as though that is the worst insult I've ever thrown at her, her posture rigid to the point of showing muscle strain, all in an effort to make herself look bigger, stronger.
How sweet.
"You know that cute little last name you so graciously have attached to yours? The one you've used to help you climb your way up the ranks in that stupid corporate hierarchy? That makes you Mafia. You're my wife, no matter how much you hate to admit it, my wife is Mafia. If not voluntarily, then by default, which I guess is your case," my tone bites enough to make her flinch.
This fact is nonnegotiable and just that.
A fact.
Her stare hardens, grinding her teeth like she always does, but this time it's different; this time, she's shaking with rage, the sheer thought of being attached to my criminal enterprise barely hitting her.
"You can pretend you're this upstanding citizen that does no wrong and wants to help her fellow man, but that last name means a lot more than a simple marriage, and it's about time you start to realize that. That ring, our house, hell, even this party has been financed by blood-soaked bills, and we both know that. So stop pretending and get a fucking grip."
My breathing is uneven, trying to control my desire to pull her closer, to tell her she's innocent of it all...but she's not if she chooses to stay with me.
It hurts to speak to her like this. My words have never been thrown harder; the weight of them surprising, as they had never meant this much to her in the past.
I can tell from the way the cogs in her head grind against each other that her carefully crafted world is on the verge of falling apart, her sanity holding on by a worn-out thread until she finally storms out.
Angry tears brim in her eyes; the need to hide them from me, to deny their existence to even herself, is imperative.
She's never cried.
For as long as we've been together, I've never seen her cry.
She'll yell, scream, hell, she'll even slap that wicked grin I give her off my face.
But she never cries.
I leave the closet and straighten my attire, making sure I look nothing but presentable, not letting the pressure get to me, or her delusions for that matter.
I can't let her reactions and emotions control mine.
"Sir, your wife has gone out into the alleyway. Shall I send someone to look after her?" one of my men asks, but I shake my head.
"I'll go after her myself once she's had a second to catch her breath," he nods and says no more.
I scan the crowd for another minute or two, a few partygoers wishing me a happy birthday as they walk past, none of them lingering too long in fear of saying something wrong, which is my preferred form of sentiment.
The last thing I want to do after that is have meaningless conversations with people who have an even less meaningful significance to me.
If I could take back everything I said to her, I would...but the reality is I can't.
I can't keep her sheltered from my world, playing the part of a devoted husband with nothing but time to make love to her day and night as if it were my only purpose.
Because that's not our reality.
And it never will be.
After granting her another five minutes, I walk through the doors she had fled through, knowing by now she'll have gotten over her tears, replaced with her anger simmering under the surface.
But when I walk outside, I see anything but that.
The snowy night is seemingly perfect, the scene beyond the alleyway is something that could be found depicted in romance novels and cinema.
But in this cold, dark, damp, brick-lined corner, the snow is a muddled grey, the lights not shining quite as bright, swallowed by the inky darkness of this secluded side street.
I'm met with the sight of a man, holding her arm at no doubt a bruising grip, while she struggles to get away. His foul mouth tries to coax her into submission, ignorant of the fact that he's got the wrong girl, if that's what he's craving.
"My, my, what do we have here?" I say, loud enough to get his attention above her defensive cursing and his lustful desire, no doubt getting off on the exchange alone.
Bastard.
My voice taps against the bubble he's built around them, bursting it when he realizes that this wasn't the safest place to do something as foul as he had been planning.
He attempts to babble something in French and then broken English, but I have zero interest in understanding either; my rage, a ticking time bomb, yet my exterior is as frozen as the delicate flakes that fall around us.
"I suggest you let go. She does look rather uncomfortable." his hand loosens its grip, fearful of what might happen if he's slow to obey.
She surprisingly rushes to hide behind me, but I bring her out in front, her back pressed against my chest.
"Was he bothering you, love?" I ask, her only response is the sound of her ragged breathing, no doubt adrenaline still coursing through her veins. I place a kiss on her neck to show her that, although she might not like it at this moment, I'll always protect what's mine.
I reach into my jacket and pull out the piece I keep on me at all times, cocking the gun and making both her and the blubbering man in front of us jump.
"What are you doing?" seemingly breathless and ready to bolt.
I keep her waist in an iron grip, my arm wrapped around her, preventing even the contemplation of a means to escape.
"You're going to stand right here, and you're going to make this man pay for what he's done to you," I whisper in her ear; the man, from visual cues alone, fears his time on this earth is up.
"No, no, Jungkook, I'm fine. Just let him go," she stammers, but I won't have any of it.
"You're going to let this man run off scot-free? Allowing him to do this to other women out there? Imagine what horrible things he's done to so many. You want to let a man like him roam free in the streets of Paris?" coaxing her into doing what needs to be done, her body not as stiff anymore.
I wave the gun his way while speaking, bobbing and weaving when he can, but he has nowhere to run except towards us, the stretch of road behind him leading to a dead-end.
How fitting for his final moments.
"Do it, love, just trust me," my hypnotic tone poisoning her mind against him, but he's worthless.
Nothing short of modern-day scum on the bottom of her Jimmy Choos.
He won't be missed.
I place the gun in her palm, molding her right hand around it and pointing at her target.
"Jungkook, please," she whimpers, her last thread of resistance hanging on for dear life, but I hum, wrapping my hand around hers, my pointer finger resting on the one she has on the trigger.
"Think of the girls you're saving love, they would thank you. Don't you think?"
My finger puts the slightest bit of pressure on hers, but she's the one who follows through.
One
Two
Three shots she fires into his torso until she's finally brought back to reality, turning away from the sight while I empty the rest of the barrel, her face buried in the crook of my neck like it had been while I took her against the wall that night.
Fuck, the feeling of her wrapped around me and shaking in my arms is just as exhilarating as her shivering form that clings to me now.
Sobs audible to my ears alone are ripped from her lips, everything crashing down on her all at once.
I've broken her.
A few of my men rush out and take in the sight. I nod as a wordless command to clean this place up and make sure that it was as though nothing ever took place here.
I guide her through the doors we had gone through before, leading her towards the service elevator so as not to encounter any partygoers or guests alike, her existence truly in shambles as she clings to me.
Drops of blood dirty her hemline, and she loses all use of her legs once the elevator dings on our floor, leaving me supporting her with one arm while I reach down, taking off her heels with the other.
The color that will likely stain is as deep as the appropriately named gemstone that rests delicately against her collarbone, hanging askew as I go to pick her up.
"Hold onto me," I say softly, slipping an arm behind her knees for support as she clings to my neck to aid in stability, my other hand occupied with those white heels now equally stained with drops of dark red.
The man standing guard at our suite opens the door for us, whispering to me that the situation has been dealt with before closing it, returning to his silent, stoic character once it's clicked shut.
I walk the two of us directly into the bathroom and sit her down on the countertop, her stare vacant and eyes clouded, the corner of her lipstick smeared.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection and see how it must've happened, her lips having brushed against my neck in an effort to hide from what monstrosity she had done.
That's my girl.
I set the shower to a temperature warm enough to wash away the chill felt deep in her skin. The chattering of her teeth is concerning, but the rush alone could leave anyone shaking like a leaf caught in a storm.
I take out the delicate clips that had been pinning her hair back one by one. Take the jewelry I had gifted her tonight off piece by piece, saving her wedding ring for last.
I kiss her finger once I've slipped it off, helping her afterwards to wipe away most of her makeup, knowing the rest will come off in the shower.
I set her down on her feet once I'm finished, unzipping her dress and letting it pool around her, taking off the last bits of clothing she has left before walking her into the shower, mumbling for her to sit on the bench and wait for me.
I close the steamy shower door, giving her a minute while I turn to fill up the tub, planning to let her rest in there once we're done in the shower.
I take off my clothes and quickly slip back inside with her, my need to tend to her growing as the night melts away like her mascara.
I help her stand, her back to the stream of water, letting it cascade down her body, willing myself to ignore how my cock throbs at the sight of it.
I reach for her shampoo to distract myself, pouring some into my hands and massaging it through her hair. My movements are clumsy, but I make sure none of it ends up in her eyes, switching to conditioner once I'm done, getting out any tangles I can find until I'm satisfied.
Washing her body is something I've been trying to distract myself from, seeing as she's kept her arms at her side throughout it all, I feel at this point it's unavoidable.
"Do you want me to..." I trail off, knowing she can at least put two and two together, understanding what comes next.
She doesn't move, let alone acknowledge my presence, so I go forward with the task, grabbing her body wash and starting with her back, taking this chance to help ease the tension.
After washing that section, I decide to wash her torso next, starting with her stomach and trailing my hands up slowly, giving her a chance to push me away, but she does the exact opposite, almost letting her body melt into mine, so I take that as an invitation.
My hands cup her breasts, rubbing the body wash all over, taking my time and placing a kiss or two on her neck because I'm selfish.
I trail my hands up further, rubbing soap along her chest, and soon, my hand is around her neck.
She finds no fear in it, eyes turned downward, making me tilt her chin up, finally catching her clouded gaze, the first sign of recognition in a while, with her surprisingly holding it.
"You know I'm proud of you, right?" I say to her, but she says nothing, makes no effort to show she's heard me at all, and I hate that.
I want her to yell, scream, tell me to go to hell, but she can't.
She can't do anything.
So I kiss her.
I kiss her because I want to.
I kiss her because I need to.
I kiss her as a way to help her break out of this shell of a person she seems to have turned into.
She responds to it, reluctant and dazed at first, but keeping my pace soft and slow helps her catch up, getting used to the feeling, but something in that breaks her.
Wakes her up or shatters her into pieces? I have no clue, but I notice how tears have started to fall amidst the shower stream, her lips quiver and knees buckle, leaving me placing her on the bench again, turning off the shower, and carrying her out, helping her sink into the tub.
She gets in, and the shock of being submerged wakes her a little more, seemingly becoming more and more aware, wiping away her tears.
She sniffles and looks away, "I think I'd like to be alone," and although I wish she would let me stay, I nod and grab a towel for myself, wrapping it around my waist.
"Call out if you need anything," I say, giving her a last once-over before leaving, feeling comfortable enough to let her stay here on her own.
~~~
After what feels to be a little over an hour, she comes out, wrapped in one of the hotel robes. She walks over to the dresser and pulls out her sleepwear with routine-like fluidity.
I watch her go through the motions of getting dressed, the robe slowly pooling around her feet.
She's gorgeous, but my sight on her is far from lustful.
For the first time in my life, I want to take care of someone.
Help them cope.
Help them breathe.
She's changed everything since the moment I met her.
I've barely been able to see another woman since I laid eyes on her.
All of them reduced to nothing.
Mere ghosts in the light of her beauty.
But I don't want to see her like this.
See her broken.
See her weak.
This is my fault.
I pushed her too far.
"You okay?" finally getting up and standing behind her, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder, having changed into lacy sleepwear. The sight of her in this dark red brings up memories of that man's blood, splattered all over the pavement.
She nods, though her eyes are glossy, barely there enough to register my voice, let alone comprehend my words.
"It was hard for me too," I admit, my hands running down her arms that are already full of goose bumps.
"I was fourteen the first time I shot someone. And sixteen when I ended someone's life," I continue, laying myself bare, knowing I at least owe her this.
My confessions bring her back a little, wanting to hear my story.
"Being born into a mafia family is never easy. But being the firstborn son and the only child of a mafia lord is a fate I'd never wish upon anyone." My words are hesitant, as if I were afraid that someone could hear our whispers in the night.
"Never safe, always looking over my shoulder, never trusting anyone. My father...he taught me everything I know about life, respect, and honor," reminiscing on those late-night talks when he let me see past some of his walls, always so guarded. It was always necessary in his position.
One that is now mine.
"Honor right?" I scoff, knowing if she were in her right mind that she would fight that there is no honor in the world of crime...but that just isn't it.
Honor has multiple meanings depending on the context, and being an honorable person has different criteria, regardless of who you speak to.
In my world, honor means loyalty, sacrifice, and integrity. To do the right thing...for the family, even when no one is looking.
"Honor can be a complicated thing to see from the outside, but loyalty is undeniable," I trail my nose along her neck, breathing in her scent, thankful she's still alive.
My fingers trace the marks that filthy man had left on her arm. The bruises sure to stay for a least a week days.
I should've made someone follow her...but she needed to experience what a truly terrible place the world can be. How cruel it could be, especially when you're at your most vulnerable.
I kiss her shoulder again, not wanting to push the boundaries of further intimacy given everything she's been through.
Comfort is all I'm looking to provide. In whatever way, shape, or form it may be.
"Are you hungry?" I mumble against her skin, knowing she hadn't gotten a chance to eat much, if at all, at the party. The act of hosting a gathering as large as this one is time-consuming, leaving you neglecting yourself, but she shakes her head.
"Thirsty?" I offer, and at that, she nods, dehydrated after her warm bath.
Taking her hand, I lead her to the kitchen, leaving her standing in the middle of the floor while I pour both of us a glass of water before ushering her over to the couch.
The open concept of the kitchen and living room makes the large room feel even more spacious, giving us plenty of space to concentrate on the present moment, on grounding ourselves, and bringing her back into her body.
The silence stretches on longer than I'd like, leaving me offering more of myself up to her.
"The night that my father died, I wasn't given the time to mourn. The pressure of now being the head of the family transferred to me as soon as he drew his last breath." I let out a shaky one of my own.
"I was young by anyone's standards. Twenty-five and barely carving out my place in this world of his, only to be made to take the reins once I finally felt confident in my position as his son, meant to take the throne...but not this soon."
"You know," I scoff half heartedly, "I thought I would've at least gained a grey hair or two before I was meant to be crowned the new leader. Would've gained a little more respect amongst the ranks...But I wasn't given that luxury."
The reactions she gives me are so few they'd be easy to miss, but I can tell that she wants to listen.
"I'm not saying all of this as a way to make you feel bad for me or to justify my actions tonight," I run my fingers through my hair, a nervous habit. "I made the wrong call in showing you what it feels like to live in my world. Or at least in the way that I showed you."
I slowly reach for her hand, and when she doesn't recoil, I take it in mine.
"I hope you know I would never let any of this come back on you. Ever," tracing small slow circles on the back of her hand, "Even if it meant dealing with the consequences myself, I would do it time and time again, no matter the punishment."
She looks down at our hands, almost curious as to why I'm touching her, but her silence has made me feel the need to be closer.
"Please say something," I finally beg, my voice not sounding as strong, almost broken if I didn't know better.
I need to know she's going to be okay.
I need to know we're going to be okay.
"I don't know what to say. I ended a man's life today. He wronged me, but who was I to have the right to play God?" Her words bite, but not as strong as I would like them to.
I want her to be herself again, but that's not our reality right now.
I need to focus on being what she needs, not forcing her to be someone she can't.
There's beauty in the broken...but I've always been taught that a broken man or woman is not worthy of respect. If they can't hold their own head up, then they deserve to have it put in the ground.
There is no use for weaklings in the mafia...but this isn't that.
She is my wife.
I am her husband.
She needs me.
At least I hope she does.
She takes a deep breath and gathers her thoughts before finally speaking again.
"You're right...I have been avoiding this," she says, making me pause, unsure of exactly what she's meant by that.
"Your world," she sighs. "I've been fooling myself into thinking that if I truly didn't know, I wouldn't be affected by it. I could pretend you were just a businessman who dealt with confidential topics and leave it at that. But that's not sustainable. You're my husband, and with your position, presenting a united front matters." I nod along as a way to show she still has the floor.
"I'm not saying this makes me ready to accept my role immediately, but I do realize it's important not to ignore it anymore. As you said, your wife is part of your mafia—and it's about time I start to accept that."
After what feels like an eternity of silence, I've gained the strength to say what I've been meaning to for so long.
"I don't want you to think I'm only saying this because you've reached that conclusion... But I don't think I can keep this in any longer," my breath wavering.
"All this time, I thought that my only want in life was to keep my father's legacy alive. I focused on staying calm under pressure to keep myself from being the reason everything falls apart. Or worse, feeling the need to pass the crown off to someone deemed more suited to the job." I get up to steady myself, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows that face the tower, lit up in all its glory
"All of this is to say that I know now I'll never be strong enough to earn the respect my father had. And after having come to that conclusion, it's almost as if I've found myself more drawn to you."
Her eyes widen.
"I've driven you insane, all this time, to keep your attention. I wasn't sure why I wanted it. Never cared about simple things like having a woman want more from me."
I pause to adjust my cufflink, eyes fixed on the city lights below.
"And to be honest, I saw relationships as a liability with more risk than reward. I hadn't planned to settle down, to tie myself to one woman. Always keeping tabs to make sure she was worthy of the respect meant to be given to a mafia lord's wife."
I can feel her gaze focused on me, that fire that I love lighting up her eyes, the reflection of them crystal clear in the windows I face.
"I brushed off the thought of marriage being for love and turned it into a necessary thing once I felt the need to have an heir. But all of that changed when I laid eyes on you," tone soft, afraid to admit it to her, let alone myself, as I turn.
"That night I first saw you from across the ballroom...I knew there was something about you," I trail off, admiring her features in this soft twilight.
"It was attraction at first. Lust undoubtedly. But the desire to know your name was vital. I needed to know who you were...and I needed to figure out how I could make you mine." My monologue is met with her shallow breathing, so I keep going.
"A beautiful woman on my arm is an expectation, and you are not an exception." The vision of her in that stunning black dress that night gave enough to entice, yet left you wanting more, is still ingrained in my memory.
"Your confidence and ability to charm your way into getting anyone's attention was hard to ignore. Your eyes were always calculating. Under that guise of being an active listener, you were always thinking about your next move. I'd never seen someone like you. Someone so magnetizing that I couldn't help but learn all about you that following day. Ignoring all of my previous engagements just to figure you out."
I sit down next to her again, this time closer, my tone more pleading than it has ever been.
"I'd told you before that I don't love you, and to be honest, maybe I didn't, at first. I saw you as a means to an end. A very enticing one, but one nonetheless," my fingers brush against her cheekbone before tucking a hair behind her ears.
"I knew that someone like you would do well if you were to finally accept the role I desired to give you...But, it's started to become more than that." I finally chance cupping her cheek, surprised to see that she leans into it.
"I told myself that I couldn't fall for you. That this was strictly a marriage of convenience and that having you at my side was something I did for my image...But I can't keep pretending that you don't mean everything to me."
She stops breathing at that, but we both knew that this was inevitable. From the moment I opened my mouth, she knew what this was...But I can tell that hearing it from my lips meant so much more.
The voices of the party guests downstairs filter up through the balcony door that's been cracked for airflow, a short gust making the silence that draws between my confession and her response that much colder.
"I don't expect you to give me an answer, especially not on a night like this. But I knew that if I didn't tell you now," I pause, the words being caught in my throat, hating myself because I know it's true, "I don't think I ever would."
Her eyes are glassy, yet pupils are dilated. Expression stoic but lips parted as if she had something to say.
Her silence is the part that kills me.
I didn't expect her to return my feelings...But I hoped she would at least acknowledge them.
"Just...forget I said anything. You need your rest." I stand up, but she grabs my wrist, freezing in place.
I don't think, I don't even dare blink, seconds feeling like an eternity since I felt her touch.
"I don't know how to respond right now...but I'm not going to sweep this under the rug. So please, don't tell me to forget it," her voice meek but true, leaving me letting out a breath.
"It's late," I say, slipping my wrist out of her hold, my heart weary from the unanswered confession.
I leave the bedroom door open as I slip under the covers, not asking her to come yet.
I know she needs time to process not only that, but everything that's led up to this moment.
Our first meeting, the proposal of the contractual marriage, our constant butting heads, this trip to Paris, and everything that comes with it.
Our first intimate moments, the looks she gave me, sounds I never dreamed I'd hear her make for me.
Everything.
I know she needs time, but every second that passes is another moment I can't spend truly loving her the way I want to.
I'm so fucking selfish.
I turn off the light and close my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep...But I can't until I know she's here next to me.
It takes hours, worse, it takes the whole night, tossing and turning and waiting for her to come to bed, but I know she needs time and space, so I give her that.
Wednesday, December 31st
When the clock shows six thirty, I give up. Throwing off the blanket, I stand up, my feet softly padding down the hall, needing to leave those four walls where my thoughts of her never ceased.
My first sight after the confession is of her curled up in a ball; the lingering tension from last night is instantly brought back once we share the same space.
I watch her for a while, how she admires the sunrise over Paris, the warm winter glow making the snow on the rooftops glitter like gold.
Her form, guarded, is no less breathtaking than last night, a breath of elegance highlighted by the soft rays now kissing her skin
"Good morning," I say softly, startling her with my sudden presence, calming once she's realized it's me.
"Good morning," she whispers, her eyes still watching the world outside.
"Did you sleep at all?" I ask, starting the espresso machine to fix both of us a morning cup that we'll desperately need.
She shakes her head to answer, both of us being well aware that she didn't.
"Do you have anything planned for the day?" I ask, trying to make conversation, but she shakes her head again.
"Monsieur DuPont spends New Year's Eve and Day with his family, so I won't be having any meetings. They suggested I spend the rest of my time here with you...figured we'd want to enjoy our time together before going home," she relays, thanking me as I bring her her coffee, just how she likes it.
"Do you have anything you want to do?" I ask, but before she's able to answer, my phone vibrates with a message, catching both of our attention.
"You should answer that," she says softly, using the coffee to warm her hands as she holds the mug close to her, taking small sips.
"It's not important," I protest, placing the phone face down on the table, ringing with another call seconds later.
"Take it," she says again, her vision drawn to the window again.
"This will only take a second," she nods, but we both know it could very well take all day.
"What?" my tone biting as I answer the phone, slipping into the spare bedroom we have yet to use.
"Philippe is getting nervous. We didn't go through with the plan last night because of...anyway, what are your orders?"Pierre relays.
Fuck, I forgot about that.
"How many did you get?" My answer, dependent on his.
"About seven. They've been pretty loose-lipped, so we've been able to gather a good amount of intel. These drug runners he's got don't seem to have much of a sense of loyalty like the last one did," he scoffs, a grunt from no doubt one of the seven coming through the mic.
"That's what happens when you're careless and let newbies run your shit straight into the ground," furrowing my brows and pinching the bridge of my nose.
"You have enough for a warrant?"
"Plenty"
"Then do it, and tip off the media. I want his arrest televised all over Europe," I order, my punishment thorough.
"Crossing the Jeon family isn't taken lightly."
After going through a few more details, I come back to her, seeing as she's washing her cup.
"Let me," I say softly, taking the cup and sponge, giving it a thorough wash before drying and putting it away.
"I thought about what you said," she starts, my back turned, my fingers still lingering on the shelf.
"Oh?" I question, simply so as not to scare her off. Closing the cabinet, my hands now rest on the counter, not daring to turn to face her.
"I can't answer definitively about what I feel for you." My shoulders droop, hope having gotten to me too soon. "But what I do know is that I'm willing to try."
Her words hang in the air, frozen in time, feeling as though if I acknowledge them, she may change her mind, but if I don't, then she'd be furious that I made her admit it.
"Truly?" I turn toward her, a calming exhale following.
She nods, a small smile on her lips.
She's never looked more beautiful.
~~~~~
Sunday, December 31st...
Sitting in my armchair at home, I watch the news pull up the announcement I had been waiting for: Philippe's final sentencing.
"Has it started?" she asks, bringing me a glass of Bourbon, a glass of wine being her poison of choice, the one she's always loved.
I hum in response and make room for her as she comes to sit on my lap, cuddling in close to watch the fruits of our labor come to fruition.
"Twenty years?" she repeats after the newscaster has announced it, taking a sip of her wine and turning to see my reaction.
"He'll get off in fifteen for good behavior," I say, turning off the TV, as that was the only thing I had been waiting for, turning my attention back to her.
"Here," I say, handing her a patent leather folder embossed with our initials.
"What's this?" she smiles, opening the folder, giving her time to look over the documents.
"Is this...?"
"The deed to Philippe's hotel," I hum, placing my glass and hers on the side table, pulling her closer.
"You bought it?" she says, whispering as if the documents could hear her.
"We bought it," I match her tone, showing the signature line at the bottom, our printed names already entered under.
"Really?" she smiles, turning to face me.
"Truly," I hum.
"Why?" she asks, clearly in love with the idea but unsure as to why I would make a move like this.
"Figured this would give us an excuse to go to Paris more often," a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth when she shakes her head.
"Have I told you I love you lately?" she says, placing a soft kiss on my lips.
"Not in a few hours," I pull her into a deeper one, "But even if you did, I'd never get tired of hearing it."
Flustered, she turns back to the paperwork and takes a closer look.
"You renamed it?" she asks, and I hum, seeing as L'Hôtel Étoile is nowhere to be seen.
"Hôtel La Reine Aimée," I purr, everything sounding so much better in French.
"What does that mean?" she asks, and I chuckle.
"Are you telling me you, Mrs. Jeon, former director of international relations, have forgotten your French?" I tease, squeezing her side.
"We haven't been there in three years, and I quit two years ago so I could play a part in the family business, so I'm a little rusty," glaring daggers into my eyes.
God, I love it when she looks at me like that.
"Hotel of The Beloved Queen. My Beloved Queen," I say, placing a kiss on her knuckles, brushing my thumb over them after, watching for her reaction.
"Mr. Jeon, who knew you were such a romantic?" she smiles, brushing the hair off my face, closing my eyes for a second as she lets her fingers drag through my hair.
"When it matters." I place a kiss on her hand again and once more on her lips. "Do you like it?" I ask, not been given a clear answer yet.
"Like it? Jungkook, I love it," she says softly, caressing my features.
"It's the hotel where we fell in love, no?" I look at her as if she hung the stars in the sky, my beloved queen.
"It is indeed."
~~~
Part 1
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jungkook was undeniably your closest friend. you two came as a pair, packaged tightly together and wrapped in clingfilm. you’d known each other since you were both ten, sat together in primary school, stealing glances at one another as though the intrigue you both kept could hardly make either of you look away. the boy had won your heart in a flash when he offered his banana milk to you after punching the horrible boy that kept bullying you, all whilst offering you a big toothy grin.
he came shopping with you, standing outside of changing rooms with crossed arms and big biceps, analysing every short little skirt and blouse. he’d sit beside you in all of your classes, helping you with your note taking, buying you special highlighters so you could make them prettier. and at parties? jungkook would stand, arm around your waist, eyes shooting daggers at any man that tried to even think about coming near you whilst he took care of you.
you see, jungkook being your best friend was indeed undeniable. the other undeniable fact? he was utterly, completely and entirely in love with you.
it would have been fine, if you weren’t so clueless. you took his actions as nothing more than him being friendly, and comfortable with you and sure - you both dated other people, but he’d made it abundantly clear to every woman in his life that you came first in the peking order. naturally, this didn’t make them stay long.
he had a deep, twisted sort of obsession when it came to you, constantly needing you close, wanting to hold you, smell you, caress you in anyway possible. you let him, of course - you were a sweet little thing, you always assumed it was normal despite everyone in your life questioning it. you were asked a million times a week whether you and jungkook were dating to which you’d always tilt your head, mumbling out a confused no. whenever he was asked, he’d simply smirk, and shrug his shoulders, playing the ambiguity card.
you weren’t sly, however. he could see right through you. no matter how innocent you’d act, he knew you enjoyed the attention, craved it and needed it in a way that resembled himself - you were a mere reflection of one another. he had just come to understand his feelings first.
y/n and jungkook, a simple pair. you couldn’t find one without the other, and despite him being the openly touchy and expressive one out of you both, the only person who thought it was friendly was you. the irony was, you knew deep down it was all a facade you were keeping up in hopes he would never stop. it felt too good to change the game now.
even now, jungkook knocked on your door at 2 in the morning, hair messy, coming from one of the libraries after a long PHD study session. you sleepily rose from your bed, already half way to dreamland as you lazily opened the door. though you weren’t expecting him, you knew it could only be him knocking.
“did i wake you?” he murmured quietly as you yawned against the door, letting him in.
he walked in, placing his bag and shoes by the entrance whilst he watched you sleepily turn back to your bedroom. “mm, but it’s okay.”
he followed you in, watching you snuggle back against your pillow. “scoot over.”
you did exactly that, shuffling, watching as he joined you in your bed, taking over a large majority of the space. you groaned a little as his hands found your hips, large fingers pressing into your skin whilst he pulled you into his chest with utter ease.
“smell good.” you purred, curling your face into his neck. he felt himself visibly relax, breathing in the scent of your hair.
“it’s the cologne you got me.” he murmured down at you.
you groaned in response, pleased at his answer.
if anyone were to see you both right now, the last possible thing they’d ever assume you to be was friends and yet here you were. best friends, even, through thick and thin. you’d learnt not to question jungkook’s wandering hands, how it brushed your ass every time he ran it up and down your back. he, in return, didn’t question you on the way you’d steal his clothes, curling into them whilst demanding to lay on his chest, wrapped tightly in his thick biceps. a mutual understanding, if you will.
“hey, we’re still on for tomorrow right? jimin’s party?” he whispered down, causing a subtle shiver down to go down your neck.
you huffed a little. “yes. now shut up, i’m sleepy.”
he grinned at that, bunny teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he pressed quick peck to the top of your head, finding himself joining you into dreamland.
—
you could hear the boom of jimin’s house minutes before you’d even arrived, offering a look over at your best friend yejin who was a giggling mess at the back seat of the uber. the blonde haired boy was notorious for his gatherings, unlimited alcohol thanks to his connections, and a gathering of people that rivalled multiple parties combined. he was a self proclaimed man of the people, offering his large home as a service to society. or so he claimed.
you slipped out once you’d arrived, pulling the hem of your tiny little dress down. the vibe for tonight was to have fun, find someone, get drunk, get ruined all before cosying back up in your warm, big bed. it didn’t feel like too much to ask for, and jimin’s party was the prime location to do it.
you followed yejin inside the too large house, immediately saying hi to people upon your arrival. within minutes, you’d both done your round, and you were finally walking up to your friends who were all mingling in the kitchen.
“hi.” you squealed at the sight of your party host, who grinned widely before giving you a big hug. “having fun so far?”
“jimin, this is insane.” you laughed, taehyung wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “more than insane, should of seen what happened 20 minutes ago, some girl slapped her boyfriend for flirting with someone else.”
“yeah well, had to try out do the other one.” jimin quipped, referencing his previous gatherings whilst already preparing you a drink.
“the fact you’ve managed that is insane.” yejin grimaced whilst taking a sip of the concoction yoongi had prepared.
your eyes flickered to the tall, tatted boy stood by the wall, back pressed against the surface. a loose tshirt sat on his figure, and though it shielded you from seeing the hard panels on his body, the sheer expanse of his shoulders were enough to have your legs move towards him within seconds.
jungkook was staring at you, gaze as intense as ever. his tongue draped over his bottom lip momentarily, wetting it at the mere sight of you. “hi.” he murmured down at you, lowering his head so his lips would graze your ear just slightly.
a shiver went down your spine. your fingers reached for his stomach, clutching his top gently. “already drinking? thought you’d wait for me.”
“been nursing it. don’t drink that.” he moved the cup jimin had given you out of your hand, preparing one for you instead. he was possessive like that, small acts that you could never pin point.
“hm? this tastes good.” you hummed, resting against him.
his arm slipped around your waist, done too casually despite the weight of it on your body. his eyes wandered over the tiny dress you were wearing, eyebrows furrowing.
“is this new?”
you peered up. “yeah! you like it?” you twirled a little, his arm loosening slightly. “got it today, yejin said it makes my legs look good.”
he grunted, half in appreciation and other half in annoyance that your mutual friend had you dressing in such a risqué dress. the thought of other men noticing you enraged him, in a way that wasn’t normal; not that he gave a fuck.
“i do like it. aren’t you cold?” he asked with narrowed eyes, hand returning to the bottom of your back.
you grinned into your cup, tilting your head. “that’s what you’re for, duh.”
at that, a smirk formed in his lips, the thought of you needing him in a way he was only more than happy to be was comforting to his obsessive brain.
the two of you muttered away, hidden away in a corner whilst your friends chatted around you. to the naked eye, you both appeared to be much more than the best friends you claimed to be. with your hands curled onto him, feeling his abs and hard chest under his clothes whilst his own were wandering up and down your back, often dipping low enough to touch your ass.
it didn’t register in your head that this wasn’t a normal thing. that friends shouldn’t touch each other so intimately, especially not ones that were as close as you and jungkook. the mask of friendship acted as a guide for you both, offering a rope of direction despite both of you often letting go, making your own decisions that completely disregarded what was supposed to be.
“gonna go to the bathroom.” you groaned suddenly.
jungkook had been stood in front of you, leaned over so you were caged against the wall, forcing you to push his chest lightly. “want me to come with?”
“what, so you can watch me piss? does that get you off?” you teased, watching as he rolled his eyes.
his tongue pushed against his cheek. “yeah, yeah, hurry up. i’ll hold your drink.”
you giggled to yourself, loving how riled up he’d get at a mere poke or jab, before sliding out of his grip, feeling his fingers tighten against you before letting go. jungkook watched you walk away, greedily taking in every inch of skin he could get. from your legs to your arms, the way your ass looked so fucking good in that dress. he let out a quiet groan.
you walked up the stairs, avoiding the moans emitting from different rooms like the plague. slipping into the bathroom, you quickly did your business before looking in the mirror whilst washing your hands. the alcohol had allowed for a flush against your cheeks and your pupils were dilated, you felt a rush all over your body. tonight was supposed to be chill, but the air felt electric.
you weren’t sure if it was the music, the amount of people or even the selection of drinks - but you felt slightly out of it. you shook your head, forcing yourself to stay present again before you began walking back to your best friend, almost too excitedly.
unfortunately for you, by the time you were slipping back into the kitchen, your tatted friend wasn’t there anymore, with hobi letting you know he’d gone into the main foyer. you, of course, listened and snuck between multiple people, exploring the house in a bid to find jungkook.
you huffed a little, realising he wasn’t there either. curse jimin, you thought, who needed a house this big anyway? your legs travelled around the expanse of the house, feeling slightly annoyed at the loss of your best friend who was usually stuck to your hip. you knew he preferred to stick together on nights like this, so you weren’t sure where he could be.
your legs took you to the living room, finding him leaning towards a corner which made your head tilt slightly, walking over immediately only to be stopped in your tracks the second you realised what was going on.
he had a girl in front of him, tall and leggy, and it took you no time to figure out who it was. yuna. his on and off ex of two years, toxic as could be, the one woman in the entire world you truly couldn’t stand whatsoever. unbeknownst to you, everytime you’d get into a relationship or begin seeing anyone, jungkook would return to her as a distraction, in hopes of making you jealous, to evoke any emotion he physically could. was it healthy? certainly not, but he didn’t really care for anyone that wasn’t you anyway.
you weren’t privy to this information, which meant your disdain for the frankly horrible woman felt unfounded. you felt guilty whenever you’d think about it, knowing you didn’t like her simply because she had jungkook when he felt more yours than anyone else’s, not that you could ever discuss that with anyone. you huffed at the sight, arms crossed whilst staring right at them.
you both had made a pact. you’d broken up with your ex boyfriend a few months ago, and at the time you felt like it was potentially a mistake, but jungkook had talked you out of it. said if you don’t go back, he wouldn’t go back to his ex either and selfishly, you knew that was what you wanted. yeah, you might have missed your ex, but the secret possibility of having him all to yourself was too much not to indulge in. seeing him now, however, had you drowning in annoyance.
yuna’s gaze flickered over jungkook’s shoulder, noticing you stood a few metres away looking at them openly. she wasn’t very fond of you either. it was hard to stomach the fact she would always be second in jungkook’s eyes, if even that, compared to the best friend he kept so closely to him. you could call and he’d drop the entire world to be by your side, so it made her bitter, naturally. seeing you stood there, visibly losing in comparison to her made a small smirk form as she tilted her head upwards to look at jungkook, her hands suddenly sliding all over his chest and shoulders.
you scoffed, deciding you’d had enough as you turned on your heel and exited the room with a grumble. if he wanted her so bad, he could have her, you didn’t care. he wasn’t allowed to come back to yours after though, a broken promise is still a broken promise and you held a grudge like no one else.
“now what’s got you frowning at a party like this?” jin questioned as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, seemingly appearing out of no where as you trudged to the kitchen to get drunk.
“nothing. it’s stupid.” you shook your head.
“probably, but if it’s upset you, let’s talk.”
you sighed, as you grabbed the bottle of vodka, making a concoction you knew would be too strong for you to handle. you were a lightweight after all. “jungkook’s in a corner getting all close with yuna.”exess
“stupid boy.” he shook his head. “are you upset because you don’t like seeing them together?” he asked, leaning against the fridge, watching as yoongi and jimin walked in, seemingly with the same idea as you.
“what..no it’s not that.” your cheeks flushed, a cheeky grin forming on his face that jimin was beginning to rival, understanding the context of the conversation immediately. “yeah? why you getting all red then?” the younger man teased.
“shut up.” you hissed, making him throw his hands up.
“okay. let’s say for arguments sake you’re not jealous, are you really gonna let that something as silly as that ruin your night?” jin asked, bumping your hip whilst making his own drink. “you can’t let his bad decisions dictate how you feel, enjoy yourself.”
“god. boring. don’t listen to him, y/n.” jimin huffed, grabbing your arms and twirling you a little. “don’t get upset. get even.”
“huh?” yoongi asked, eyes narrowing. “okay, feels like it goes without saying that you shouldn’t listen to jimin right now.”
you were intrigued, however. “what do you mean?” you asked, peering at him.
“get even.” he reiterated with a smirk. “gotta play him by his own game.”
“yeah, well, it’s not like my ex is here.” you grumbled at him, taking a sip of your too harsh drink, making you wince. jin tutted, stealing it out of your hand and making you another, more appropriate one.
jimin’s smirk could have rivaled the cheshire cat, with the way it pinned to either side of his face, clearly loving this game. he knew about jungkook’s feelings for you, and about the hidden feelings you could barely admit to yourself - wasn’t it time he had some fun, and made sure progress was being made?
“ah, but i have something better.” he tutted, leading you out to the entrance of the kitchen so you could look out all of the people here. “so many eligible bachelors. why go for something you’re used to, when you could try something new?”
you pondered his words whilst you heard yoongi groan, taking the drink jin was preparing for you and downing it himself.
soon enough, you had found yourself the perfect man. you couldn’t really remember his name, jaehoon, jaehyun, something along those lines - not that it really mattered. he was the right fit for what you needed. you flirted in a way you knew worked best, eyelashes fluttering and a few casual touches here and there, he was practically smitten by the end.
you’d even gotten up to dance, his hands travelling all over the expanse of your stomach, your hips and hair. he was letting you know exactly what he felt and what he was thinking through his eager touch. normally, you’d feel disgusted, you weren’t someone that revelled in attention like this but it was hard to think when you were being guided by jealousy.
“wanna get out of here?” he whispered down at you, voice heavy with intent.
at first, you faltered, as though ice water had been splashed onto your face, suddenly aware of what you were doing. one look upwards and you noticed jungkook wasn’t even around you, and for some stupid reason you couldn’t rationalise, it made you angry. he broke the pact. he had you walking around the party looking for him. him and his touches, wandering hands and fleeting looks - you knew friends didn’t do that, but it was jungkook. it was okay if it was him, you preferred it even, and yet here you stood, about to make the biggest mistake of your life out of pure ego.
“yeah.” you huffed a little, carried away by your thoughts.
the man in front of you couldn’t believe his luck, you were easily one of the prettiest girls at the whole party and entirely out of his league so he wasn’t about to waste a single minute. he took your hand, smirk big whilst leading you through the house, and towards the door.
you passed some of your friends, who were all looking at you inquisitively, managing to get to the foyer before you were so rudely stopped by a hand yanking your own away from his grip.
“what the fuck are you doing?” jungkook appeared, chest big and shoulders as wide as they could be.
he was inching towards the shorter man, eyes narrowed dangerously as though something completely unfathomable was taking place in front of him.
“who are you?” his eyebrows narrowed. “let go.” you hissed at the same time, yanking your hand out of his grip.
he turned to you, eyebrows furrowing in half confusion and annoyance. “what, you’re gonna leave with this guy? are you fucking stupid?”
“what’s it to you?” your eyes were matching his in emotion, whilst the man beside you watched you both in confusion. “listen, man, she told me she was single..”
“yeah, well she’s not.” he broke eye contact; facing him once more. “touch my girl again and i’ll fucking kill you.”
that was all he needed to hear; backing down immediately and all but scurrying away. jungkook was very well known, he had a presence that made most men uncomfortable, a cocktail mix of strength and anger that anyone would shy away from. it was secretly one of your favourite things about him, you were convinced he was invincible - the thought of him being able to protect you so thoroughly had butterflies erupting in your stomach.
“jungkook.” you hissed once more, anger bubbling in your stomach.
he didn’t bother to respond, grabbing you by your hips and pushing you almost harshly against the wall, secretly making sure your head didn’t bang. “what was that? leaving with some guy, you don’t even know who he was.”
“would it have been better if it was someone i knew, then?” you scoffed, hands gripping his shirt where his hardened chest sat beneath, pushing him away though he didn’t budge whatsoever. stupid, concrete body.
his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. “you don’t fucking leave with anyone that isn’t me, you hear me?”
you rolled your eyes. “you don’t get to act all innocent with me, i’m surprised you’re not upstairs with yuna right now.”
“what are you talking about?”
“i saw you, so don’t even bother.” you huffed, pushing him by his chest once more only for him to grab your hands, pinning them to the wall above you.
“yeah? tell me what you saw, hm.” he darkly whispered down at you. “did you hear what we were talking about, or are you jumping to conclusions?”
you wiggled slightly, his chest now all but pressed against yours. this position was entirely indecent, and if either of you were more aware of your surroundings, you’d be thankful that everyone was currently too drunk to notice you.
“you said you wouldn’t talk to her anymore, that was the pact.” you hissed. “you promised and now you’ve broken it, so i can do whatever i want, you don’t get to dictate my decisions.”
he scoffed in your face, and your eyes widened lightly at the mere audacity, wiggling again against his grip. all this was doing was pushing your body tighter against him.
“you know, if you had stuck around longer than 5 seconds you would have actually heard what we were talking about.” he all but grumbled. “she approached me, wouldn’t leave me alone, i’ve spent the last 15 minutes telling her to fuck off, that i’ve only got my eyes on one girl, only have time for you.”
you stopped wiggling, his words hitting you one after the other.
“imagine my fucking surprise when i try find you, only to find some fuck leading you out of this place.” his face was dangerously close to yours. “what were you planning, y/n? trying to get me angry? was that your game plan?”
you didn’t respond, nervously keeping eye contact. your thighs were pressed against each other tightly, a sick part of you enjoying this more than anything, the way he was being a little rougher with you whilst still being protective - it made your brain sing.
“and what would you have done once you were both alone, hm? he wanted to fuck you.” he growled harshly, making you grumble under your breath. “you think a guy like that is worth fucking?”
“okay, fine, i shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. but you still broke the pact.” you weakly pushed back, your ego too high to let him win.
jungkook knew it, knew the only reason you’d gone so far was out of jealousy and it made his heart clench harshly - it felt fucking incredible. his girl, his y/n, so bothered at the sight of another woman staking their claim on him that you’d become this blind? if only you knew the way he had shut yuna down, leaving the girl practically in tears after he explained how deeply his heart and brain were intertwined into you - that he’d take morsels from you if it meant being close to you, whilst he wouldn’t even look at her twice even if she’d offer herself whole. he knew it was cruel, but in that moment, when all he wanted to do was return to you, he hardly cared.
“yeah, i did.” he murmured after a moment, slowly easing your hands back down from the wall, now pushing them back onto his chest. he could feel your fingers pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt once more. “forgive me, baby. swear my intentions were good.”
you nibbled on your bottom lip. he was still so close, his nose bumped against yours gently, “fine.” you huffed a little, despite one of your hands drawling down to his stomach, feeling the tightness of his abs beneath.
he dipped his head so your cheeks were pressing together, his lips ghosting against your ear. “now, stay with me for the rest of the night. next man i see touching you, i’ll fuck up.”
and as you both walked away, you sported a triumph grin, not only having jungkook possessively lead you to a spot on the couch, but also have his wandering hand go from your hip to firmly grabbing your ass.
—
“how much longer?” jungkook groaned alongside yoongi, who sat beside him, arms crossed and eyes closed.
the two men were sat within the confinements of what felt like a jail, but was actually a mere clothing department. surrounded by pretty dresses and a flourish of colours, the pair felt utterly out of place, dragged here by either girl. yoongi and yejin had a weird back and forth that had been building for years, incredibly similar to your own relationship with jungkook? the difference between you, however, was they at least tried to be subtle for the sake of appearances.
“god, just wait, you’re both so impatient.” yejin huffed, whilst you both chatted away in your respective dressing rooms. “i don’t know about this one.” you murmured, loud enough for jungkook to pick up on the slight tinge of anxiety in your voice.
“come out, y/n.” he gently coaxed, noticing your feet from underneath nervously shuffling.
you did exactly that, however, your hair pulled up into a messy ponytail that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.
“wait let me see too!” yejin excitedly rushed out, the lilac tone of her dress catching yoongi’s attention.
jungkook couldn’t look away from you. a sweet grey dress that hugged every inch of you - from where it sat on your calf to the way it dipped in at your waist. it felt like your legs went on for days, your breasts accentuated. you were perfection in a bottle, and the fact you weren’t sure drove him insane.
“i really like that, actually. you look nice.” yoongi nodded in approval, yejin walking over and adjusting the straps. “oh, you are so getting this. you look hot.”
you looked over at jungkook. it was his opinion you really wanted, and you knew it wasn’t healthy, but you craved his thoughts the most. he was soaking you in hungrily, eyes dark and legs parted slightly, causing you to flicker down secretly. he was enamoured by you.
“i like it.” he grumbled. “i like it too much.”
your cheeks flushed a little, pleased with your best friend’s approval. “you sure kookie? just think this grey is too moody for a wedding, and maybe it’s too tight?”
“it’s perfect. i’m wearing black, so we’ll match.” he shook his head. yejin grinned to herself before flaunting her outfit towards yoongi who was equally as enamoured.
“ooh, are you wearing that suit we got together at the start of the year?” you excitedly asked, shuffling over to him. you were now in front of him, his legs parted as he leaned back in his chair, your body inbetween.
he was taking you in, openly. from your eyes to your lips, lips to your neck, neck to your boobs and downwards. he couldn’t get enough.
“mm, yeah. remember you saying how much you liked it.” his hands were touching you now, on your hips, sliding over the material hungrily. “i really do.” you admitted, a small, too cheeky grin forming on your face.
yejin had returned to her dressing room now, you promptly doing the same, jungkook’s hands falling off of your body, watching the dress pool at your feet from the bottom of the door. he spread his legs a little wider, accommodating for the already growing nature of his length.
“hey, you guys joining us for dinner?” yoongi asked him quietly, watching as yejin walked out, hands playing with her hair. “dunno man, might have to pass, she’s kinda tired so thought i’d take her home.”
he nodded, watching as you too came out. jungkook admired you whilst you both said your goodbyes, soon enough standing in front of him, in between his legs slightly, like before. “you don’t have to come with me if you’re hungry, kookie, i don’t mind making my own way back.”
he scoffed, whilst standing, height towering over you immediately. “gotta take my girl home, hm?”
you didn’t want to admit the pounding that formed in your chest at his words and the ease in which he said them in. he took a hold of your hand, both protective and possessive whilst leading you to the counter, not sparing you a single glance as he paid for your dress. you had known him long enough to know he’d sooner die than let you pay for anything, another thing that had you kicking your legs and screaming into your pillow.
“wait, can we go to yours instead? just remembered my house is a mess and i don’t wanna deal with that right now.” groaning into his arm whilst you walked beside him, peering up with big, hopeful eyes.
jungkook wanted to scream. as if he could say no to you.
“mm, sure. you left your stuff from last time too in case you want to shower.”
you grinned wide at the confirmation. “hm, maybe i’ll have a bath.”
within the next half hour, you were in jungkook’s bath, soapy bubbles covering your naked body whilst you hummed in delight, candles littered everywhere to create some sort of ambience. you loved coming to his place, it was much bigger and warmer than your own apartment. his scent was also everywhere, which made your brain keen.
“you hungry?” jungkook called out from the kitchen, prepared to make you a whole ass meal at your mere confirmation.
you were away with the fairies, too cozied up in the warm water and scented bubbles to even begin to hear him. jungkook frowned, realising you hadn’t responded, making him walk towards the closed door, knocking lightly and asking again.
in return, all he got was a slight hum, as though you were confused of what he was asking. without thinking, the door was already being pushed open, revealing you.
your hair was pulled up in a cute little bun, whilst your knees propped up in the water, the only sliver of skin jungkook could see whilst the rest of your body lay hidden underneath the expanse of bubbles. he watched as you peered up at him lazily, as though this was the most normal thing in the world - as though friends were supposed to walk in on each other naked.
“what did you say?” you murmured up at him whilst exhaling a little, seemingly content.
his lip quirked upwards slightly, whilst his cock thumped against the expanse of his boxers and jeans angrily. if you shifted, just slightly, just a little…
“asking if you’re hungry.” his voice has become rough, causing your eyes to flicker over to him, before slowly trailing down, noticing the way he was evidently hard.
in all honesty, you’d noticed it constantly. whether it was you waking up to his morning wood pressed tightly against you, or whether it was at parties where you’d sit on his lap only to be left with a core aching for something you weren’t sure you’d ever get.
“not really. this feels too good to leave.” a sigh left your lips dramatically, making him crouch beside you, his hand dipping in the water slightly to feel the temperature. “that does feel good.” he confirmed.
“i even put the salt thing you bought for me. feels so nice.”
if jungkook was any other man, he wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the secretive tone you were using. but, alas, he knew you better than you knew yourself, which meant he could recognise the teasing tilt to your voice with ease. you were enjoying this. you liked seeing him rock hard for you, and judging from the way your eyes kept flickering down, you were just as needy.
“yeah? mind if i join you, baby? wanna see what’s got you like this.” he was suddenly so close to your face; watching the way your pupils were dilating, your eyelids hooding whilst you offered a little nod, almost delirious.
hungrily, you watched him. he discarded his top, his jeans. he made sure your eyes were connected as he was left with his boxers, his length imprinted against the thin material, watching the way your gaze flickered down almost hungrily.
“make some room.”
it was though you were taken out of your trance, slowly pulling yourself to the corner of the massive bathtub whilst he himself got in, his boxers sat on the floor of the bathroom. jungkook rested against the opposite side of you, his back against the tub whilst you did the same, the bubbles mostly hiding you.
him, however - no he was a different story. his cock sat heavy against his stomach, pink and long, thicker than anything you’d ever seen before. it looked angry, the way it was twitching, hard and begging to be touched, visible to his sweet best friend.
he watched as you stared, little gasps leaving your mouth as you hungrily took him in. you weren’t hiding it, something he appreciated greatly.
the problem with your shared dynamic was that neither of you were shy about how you felt, making it clear to the world whilst never discussing it to one another, leaving you in this tension filled relationship where you both wanted each other in a way that felt stifling.
jungkook watched the way your chest and rose and fell, hints of your pebbled nipples coming to the surface before being hidden away once more.
“you were right. does feel good.” he casually murmured, wet hands running through his hair to keep it out of his face, as though his cock wasn’t leaking pre cum in front of you.
you weren’t sure what to say, core thumping and begging for something, anything.
he smirked slightly. “but colder than i expected.” your eyes looked up at his voice, finally listening again. “c-cold?”
“yeah. warm me up?” he tilted his head, watching as your body moved before you could even think.
you moved towards him, water sloshing, not that either of you cared, so your back was now suddenly against his chest, your naked bodies curling into one another with ease. your nudity wasn’t an issue for you, and certainly not for him, but the second you moved, you hadn’t realised this meant the bubbles were now moving away from you too.
your visibly naked body pressed against him, whilst his arm curled around you. he could see your breasts, the way they jolted with every move, causing his cock to twitch much to your non-secret enjoyment.
“feels better.” he breathed down at you, air tickling your ear, making you curl further into him. your hands were against him, one on his chest and the other at his side under the water, but your gaze had fallen directly onto his cock once more.
“pretty.” you whispered up at him. his ego was beyond anything at the minute. what do you mean his pretty little best friend was perched, naked on his chest, admiring his fat length?
he nuzzled your nose, almost condescendingly with his own, eyes dark and dilated to match your own. “yeah? you like it?”
you nodded, curling into him further whilst one of your hands drew circles against his stomach, dangerously close to where it sat. you weren’t as innocent as you looked, and jungkook fucking loved it.
his own hand curled tighter against you, fingers touching just above where your own pussy sat. “been like this since the dress shop. you looked so pretty.”
the way he was cooing at you had your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, a small grin beginning to form. “i’m happy you liked my dress.”
“i fucking loved it.” he scoffed, drawing his own circles against you. “always look so beautiful.”
the ending of his sentence was whispered down at you, as though they were words too big for either of you to hear. it did nothing to stop your grin from growing, giggling a little into him as you nuzzled closer to his chest, your fingers brushing against his cock more openly.
you watched as it twitched, whilst his own hand was beginning to fall forwards, almost cupping your heat entirely.
“kookie…” you began, nibbling down your bottom lip as you nervously looked up at him. “can..can i?”
instead of responding, jungkook took his free hand and took your own, pulling it up to his lips to plant pepper kisses all over it. your eyes were batting up at him, enjoying the affection and attention beyond anything you could ever describe, before watching him take your hand, and slowly wrap it around his dick.
your little gasp nearly had him bucking up into your hand. the way it couldn’t wrap around fully, your fingers much smaller than his and yet you wasted no time, beginning to pump him slowly, up and down.
“you’re so thick.” your voice was filled with awe, and again, his ego felt like it was about to sky rocket. jungkook wanted to close his eyes, relish the pleasurable feeling of you exploring him for the first time like he had dreamt of on so many occasions. and yet, he couldn’t look away from you, the way your eyes were hooded and your hands were moving up and down in pure intrigue. it made him want to ruin you.
“my turn.” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver. his hand that was grazing against you, now moved purposefully. jungkook ran two fingers up your slit, groaning a little at how wet you felt. despite the water growing colder each passing minute, you both felt on fire.
you let out a breathy moan, head pressing against jungkook’s cheeks as your legs opened up for him, the two of you peering up at one another.
“prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.” he huffed through a moan, your hand moving up and down his length. your faces were turned to one another, breaths mingling as your lips sat dangerously close.
god, you were so beautiful. jungkook couldn’t get over the hazy look in your eyes, the way your gaze only ever looked away to look at your hand pumping him, or his own fingers moving against you.
a loud moan left your lips once you felt jungkook push a finger in, deep and full. he wasn’t waiting for you to adjust, merely pumping it with a curled edge, hitting you exactly where you needed it. your forehead now touched his own as you adjusted your body, giving him more access whilst you too sped up your actions.
neither of you could look away, pleasuring one another as though it was the most natural thing on earth, both yearning to kiss each other and yet there still seemed to be an air of uncertainty. soon enough, he added another finger, watching as your mouth fell open and eyes shut tight.
“cmon, baby, want your eyes on me.” he whispered against you, pressing too gentle kisses to your face, making you whimper and nod whilst doing exactly that.
your hands were sloppy, almost unsure of yourself as the pleasure raked up and down your body. fortunately for you, jungkook was of the opinion you didn’t need to ever work, the concept both foreign and offensive to his mind. his hand darted out, taking a hold of your own on his cock and guided you, taking control of you whilst also fingering you, actions growing harsher.
“fuck. a pussy like this needs to be ruined. look at you; just begging to be stretched out.” his words were pounding in your brain. “bet you can’t think unless you’re leaking cum.”
you stretched your legs impossibly wider, water sloshing around you as you nodded along to his words, feeling them in the pit of your stomach. you wanted that so badly.
“jungkook, i can’t..” the moans you were letting out were loud and bouncing off of the walls of the bathroom, whilst you both grew more and more erratic.
his fingers ploughed into you, in and out, curling right against that singular spot that had you arching your back into him whilst he helped you fist his cock.
“you can.” he hissed, biting your jaw, leaving hickeys against your neck and jawline as though he had every right. “wanna feel you cum for me, sweet girl. hm? so good to me, just letting my ruin your little pussy. who does it belong to?”
“you.” you responded almost instantly, back arching as you felt something grow in the pit of your stomach. “all yours, kookie, always.”
he nodded, forcing you to look at him as he too could feel his orgasm approaching. your words were like a drug to him, feeding ever warped belief he’d ever thought. you were both on the edge, so close, so ready to break, feeling higher than ever in one another’s arms.
he pulled you in suddenly, fingers leaving your core and dropping your hand away from his own cock. you wanted to whine until you realised what he was doing, positioning your body on top of him so he could slide his cock between your slit, pushing the tip into your tight hole.
“you’re going to cum on my cock, y/n. you hear me? gonna fill you up, make sure it fucking sticks.” his words were so dark, so possessive and yet they bounced around your brain in mere pleasure.
your body was shaking, he was a tight fit, but he wasted no time, only managing to fit the tip and an extra inch inside before roughly thrusting inside of you, building on both of your impending orgasms. if you thought his fingers felt good, the painful stretch of only a part of his cock had you screaming into his face. he couldn’t stop, his hands harsh and leaving bruises on your ass as he clutched, chasing both of your orgasms. neither of you were thinking clearly, which caused jungkook to lean even closer and press his lips tightly to yours.
your brain blanked.
the movement of his lips, the way your mouths moved in unison hungrily, both of your hands moving against one another was enough to finally push you over the edge.
your legs shook whilst jungkook came too, a loud grunt leaving his lips as ropes of cum painted your walls, whilst you cried out in pleasure, the too harsh coil bursting all over your body.
you felt like you were on cloud nine, and once you had finally come down for your high, you realise you were perhaps out out of it for longer than you’d realised. your back was against jungkook’s, his arm around your waist whilst the shower head above washed both of your bodies. your legs felt weak and hard to stand on, but his grip was tight and made you steady.
“you okay?” he gently murmured down at you, with a small kiss to your forehead, causing you to nod with a little curl. “i feel so good.” you hummed, aching core a reminder of his love for you.
“good. did so good for me, sweet girl. fingered all that cum back in you too, so it’s all inside.”
his words would have scared any other girl, and yet here you were, quietly giggling to yourself like he had just said the most romantic thing on earth.
you reached over so you were turned in his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest, feeling entirely dwarfed in this position and yet it was exactly what you needed. the grin on jungkook’s lips rivalled that of a cheshire cat.
“cmon, let’s get you fed.”
the rest of the day was spent with you sat in jungkook’s arms, continuing your usual routine. you’d always been touchy, holding one another, nuzzling in one another’s neck and cuddling but this? no, this was completely different.
he had you sat on the counter whilst he cooked for you, shirtless, feeding you spoonfuls whilst he kept a hand on you at all times. later, he fed you from his lap, making sure you were full and satiated. once you were done, you both popped on a movie, watching until you felt sleepy, his arms carrying you to his bed. you slept good that night, feeling protected as you curled into jungkook’s arms, biceps wrapped around you and his fat cock hidden away in your gummy walls.
though neither of you rushed to talk about what had happened, you almost didn’t feel the need to. jungkook was yours, he always had been, and yeah you didn’t have a label, but you weren’t sure anything could accurately describe what he was to you anyway.
you fell asleep in the arms of the only man you’d ever truly cared about, body and soul, heart and mind.
—
you loved weddings more than anything else on earth. to be around people expressing joy for shared love felt pure in the sweetest of ways, and it was always an honour you held deep in your heart whenever you were invited.
you sat on a table with all of your friends. jungkook sat behind you and jimin to your right, the circular table wide and chatty, laughing with one another and clapping your hands excitedly when namjoon made his toast.
ever since that night with jungkook, things had changed. not in a bad way, oh contraire - his lips would often find your own in a sweet embrace, fleeting but gentle, his hands wandering inappropriately in their usual fashion but now it held more weight. you’d lost count on how many times he’d cum inside of you, it slowly becoming an addiction for you - you couldn’t function if he wasn’t inside you in some way. it was like a switch had shifted in both of your brains and it made you realise you didn’t want to pretend anymore, you liked his attention, yearned for it, wanted more and more and more.
you hadn’t seen him for a few days which felt like a lifetime, but your exams and your part time job kept you away from him, not that this was a deterrent. he’d send you videos you know you’d giggle at, or facetime you like he typically would. it felt different, the air had changed, and you found yourself longing for something you knew you could have.
jungkook had picked you up from yejin’s apartment, some of the other guys coming with too so you could all attend together, and he could have sworn you’d stolen his breath then and there. he’d seen you dressed for parties, or even half naked, but it didn’t compare to seeing you now. elegance dripped from every inch of you, your dress from the shop he’d bought you adorned on your body and your hair pulled back in a sweet bun, wispy pieces adorning your face. he was wearing the suit you loved so much, and the both of you couldn’t help but grin at one another.
on the ride there, the both of you sat in the back of yoongi’s car. his hand was against your thigh, possessive and meaningful and you found yourself playing with his fingers almost excitedly. you liked how visibly he wanted the world to know you belonged to him. made you feel good.
walking in, you weren’t sat together for the ceremony, with jungkook being further down in the row whilst you and yejin sat separately from the boys, much to his disappointment. this proved beneficial when he realised his position allowed for direct access to you, watching you greedily as he took you in. he couldn’t help but notice how many of the groomsmen were eyeing you up, and it made him clench his teeth but he remained quiet. a problem he’d deal with later.
the bride soon walked in, a vision in white, and jungkook watched the way your eyes utterly lit up, a little gasp leaving you. his gaze was hungry, obsessive, he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to - the way your small hands were clutched by your chest as though the mere sight of the bride had hearts pooling at your stomach. you wanted to be a bride? done, he’d get you a ring first thing tomorrow.
he was being quiet tonight, and despite now being sat behind you at the table, he’d not talked to you much. you were a slight over thinker, so you were assuming it might have been the environment, maybe he was uncomfortable at weddings? he didn’t seem uptight or anything, merely contemplative, and he was still being touchy so you assumed it was about something else as opposed to you.
silly little you had no idea that jungkook was thinking of the next steps. he’d propose to you, obviously, the title of boyfriend and girlfriend was insulting to him and he’d never stoop so low than to claim you in such a way. secondly; you’d get married, and he’d buy you a big house - he was already lined up for a high paying job that he was about to start, and he was pretty comfortable considering his family’s fortune. did you want a lot of kids? lord knew jungkook would give you a hundred if that’s what you wanted, or he’d live a life solely focused on you if that’s what you preferred. he knew you well enough to know you liked children, always cooing and complaining about baby fever to him as though he wasn’t correctly equipped to heal you from it.
after a while, you simply couldn’t take it anymore, pulling at his sleeve a little, forcing him to look at you whilst everyone ate.
“you okay?” you tilted your head at him, wispy hair falling into your face.
fuck, jungkook thought. you were beauty defined.
“yeah, i’m all good.” he confirmed, taking your tugging hand and intertwining his fingers with them underneath the table. “sorry, just been lost in thought.”
“what’re you thinking about?” you asked curiously.
he peered over your features, the way your big eyes were blinking up at him as though he held the answers to the universe.
he pressed a little kiss to your hand. “about how pretty you’d be in a white dress.”
you gasped almost immediately, catching the attention of yejin and seokjin who sat beside jungkook, before they looked away. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, chest beating hard at the insinuation of his words, gaze dropping to the way his lips quirked slightly at your reaction.
“why..” you cleared your throat. “why are you thinking about that?”
his thumb was tracing patterns against your skin, leaning closer to you for a minute. “i always think about you. feels fitting for the setting.”
your heart was beating. was he teasing you? you didn’t even need to think to know the concept of jungkook being your future husband was something akin to having heaven on earth. a man utterly, entirely obsessed with you, showering you with love and affection whilst being a six foot something adonis. the fact he was your closest, most cherished best friend since childhood only added a little cherry on top.
“shut up.” you pushed him lightly, but the dusting of pink in your cheeks was enough for anyone to notice.
soon enough, the wedding party actually began, with namjoon forcing all of you to dance and have fun, laughs being heard all around the room as you and other guests danced the night away. you knew you were lucky for having such a sweet circle of friends, all caring and uplifting, unafraid to make fools of themselves in the pursuit of joy.
you slipped away, grabbing yourself a champagne flute and heading out to the open balcony to get some air. you were having the time of your life, and despite having jungkook in your mind all of the time, it felt refreshing to be around such love whilst thinking of him. your best friend. your man.
a small smile formed on your face as you found yourself wanting to scream out loud, feeling so many happy emotions, humming a little as the nippy night air chilled the heat on your body, your exposed arms forming goosebumps.
“god, it’s loud out there.” a voice chirped to your left, making you gasp a little as you looked over.
a tallish man; blonde, green eyes. he was lanky, and resembled one of your exes. on any other occasion, you’d be ready to admit that he was undoubtedly your type, but at the minute, the only thing that could begin to occupy even one moment of your thoughts were that of big boba eyes and a bunny smile.
“you startled me.” you breathed, letting out a light laugh.
he grinned. “sorry.” he turned to you fully. “too much for you too?”
“just wanted some air. got myself a drink, so, can’t complain.”
he laughed in response with a little nod. you found yourself chatting to the stranger, finding out he was a close friend of the groom, was currently working as a lawyer, financially responsible, even had a dog. on paper, this man was the total catch and the fact he was being so openly responsive with you, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he clearly desired you.
however, you felt absolutely nothing.
sure he was attractive, but hardly anything could pull you away from the warmth jungkook provided. he felt like home. twisted, warped, dark and yet it felt safe, something you knew no one else could replicate. he’d known you since you were in pigtails, held your hand through every single thing you’d ever experienced and still stood tall. if not him, then who?
“okay, i’m just gonna ask. gotta shoot my shot, so..” the green eyed man, nate as you’d come to learn, turned to you. “are you single?”
your cheeks flushed almost instantly. you had a sneaky suspicion his interest was blooming from that angle and yet assumed the best. “oh..uh, not really.”
“that doesn’t seem like a confident no?” he tilted his head.
you bit your lip, a slight smile forming. “guess it’s complicated.”
“a girl like you shouldn’t be wasted on complicated. you deserve a clear answer.”
you peered up at him, nibbling on your lip and contemplating. “i know what i mean to him, we’re best friends…we’re more than anything i can describe, really. i don’t even know what you’d call us..i guess that’s why it feels complicated.”
nate took a swing of his drink. “what a lucky son of a bitch.”
you giggled at that, before feeling a heavy warmth against your back, thick fingers clutching the side of your hip and breath tickling the back of your neck, a single kiss being pressed against it. your brain swirled with content, recognising the touch almost instantly, as though you were tethered.
“very lucky.” jungkook all but purred into your skin, a small and almost shy smile forming at your lips.
the man beside you instantly understood this man to be the exact one you had spoken about, and the sight of you together, the way you both melted into each others touch floored him for a moment. you were right - this was the epitome of complicated. as a stranger peering in from the outside, he wasn’t sure what he’d call you. boyfriend girlfriend felt foolish, anything more would be too little, but the way you were reacting and touching one another felt fated.
he took his leave, the once disappointment that swirled in his stomach quickly replaced by an understanding - you were each other’s person. he didn’t stand a fucking chance.
“you scared him away.” you teased, whilst jungkook turned you in his arms, looking down at you with arms locked around your waist. “bad dog.”
“yeah, i guess i did.” he hummed. “been doing that with every man that comes your way for years. some slip through.”
you giggled. he wasn’t joking. not that you needed to know.
he twirled a strand of your hair. “you seem contemplative.”
“is a girl not allowed to think?”
“hm. i encourage it.” hands slowly slipped up to the small of your back. “tell me your thoughts?”
you bit your lip.
“what are we?” you asked quietly, as though afraid you’d break the peace in the quiet you shared with him.
jungkook didn’t falter, though. not that you expected him to, but you knew that it was an age long question that made most people uncomfortable. it was about time you realised that jungkook wasn’t like most people, and he hadn’t been for the past 15 years you’d known him.
he tilted his head slightly, so that your eyes would meet his directly.
“you are everything.” he simply responded. “i feel like anything i label you as is too small and it feels insulting, but i’ll take anything you give me.”
you nibbled further, nodding. “i know.” your voice came out a whisper. “i’ve always liked you to be honest. i guess i just put our friendship first because you’re my best friend, you mean so much to me.”
your admission was sweet, and he could feel it in the depths of his soul.
his finger reached up, tilting your head back gently and pressing a small kiss to your jaw. “i feel a lot more than like for you, y/n. think you’d run for the hills if you truly knew.”
“i wouldn’t.” you breathed out, pulling at his shirt, tugging. “wanna hear it. you can tell me.”
jungkook stared down at you.
“you are the only thing i ever think about.” his finger under your chin was now caressing your cheek. you were so delicate. “morning, afternoon, evening. i feel physically sick if i don’t see you, don’t touch you or talk to you. your voice alone feels healing.”
you breathed out a shaky breath of air.
“remember our pact? i don’t talk to yuna, you don’t talk to your dumb fuck ex.” you nodded.
“only reason i ever entertained her was because i couldn’t stomach the thought of him being around you, getting to hold you and kiss you. even now, i feel angry, feel sick even thinking about it ever being a reality.”
“jungkook..” you all but gasped out.
“i know it’s fucked up. i know it’s not normal, but my brain is warped. i’m obsessed with you, felt this way ever since we were kids and it’s just gotten worse and worse and worse. but i don’t care, baby. you’re it for me and i’m spending my life making sure you feel every bit of that, i don’t care if it means i have to tear this world and make a new one for you.”
your heart was beating out of your chest as you peered up at him, hands shaky and lips parted.
“you, y/n, are mine. i’m yours too.” he nodded. “so call me your boyfriend, or whatever you want, because soon enough, i’ll be standing up there with you walking down the aisle all pretty in white.”
he brought you closer.
“and even then, when you call me your husband, i’ll feel fucking sick. because it’s a cheap comparison for what i feel for you, what i wanna be for you - you’re one half of me, and i’ll never make you feel any less.”
peering into jungkook’s eyes, you saw a swirl of two things. love, undoubtedly, which swam in pools of ebony brown, curling around his iris and hugging the whites of his eyes as though it was the most natural thing on earth. behind it, bigger, stronger even, sat infatuation - deadly, all encompassing.
if you were a better woman, you’d run for the hills, recognise him as the apex predator whilst identifying yourself as his ideal prey. unfortunately for you, every line of obsession that made up jungkook’s entire being was matched within your own. you were every inch of what he was to you, you felt the exact same emotions, the same need, the same awe, the same primal want that you couldn’t explain to anyone else.
he was yours, yours alone and you’d never let him forget it.
you were both leaning in, about to kiss, reaching a new high and understanding when your name was called out from inside the building. within seconds, it seemed you were pulled away out onto the dance floor where the bride was ready to toss her bouquet, your figure hidden amongst the other excited women around you.
you turned, your intention to simply watch as red petals flew in the air, cascading through the crowd and landing gently within your hands, brushing your fingers gently until they found a home in your embrace.
jungkook watched from the balcony, small smirk forming as he too clapped alongside everyone else in the room.
figures, you thought, catching his gaze as you inhaled the scent of the fresh roses. even luck knew where you belonged. captured tightly against harsh thorns, possessive and rough - no way out with no will to find one.
