gyu

20 • she/her

[wintrbears]

The Wife Trap | JJK (MASTERPOST)

Summary: Your husband and his identical twin brother are complete opposites, but when the pair are in a horrific car accident together and the nurse asks Jungkook which twin he is, he decides to spare you the heartache of losing your beloved husband by becoming him.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, (Brief) Jungkook’s Twin x Reader, (Slight) Jungkook x Jennie

Genre: Twins AU, Brother-in-Law, Unrequited Love, Friends to Lovers(?), Haunting the Narrative, Slow-Burn, Angst, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: ~ 80.3k total

Warnings: chapter specific warnings will be included on each individual post

Author's Note: woohoo! it's finally here!! this is the masterpost for a series that was only ever supposed to be a one-shot lmao. the only thing I'll say beforehand is this story is really, really heavy so please read all the warnings if there are certain topics you know could negatively impact you. like, I honestly think I might be a sadist after writing this 🫣. but it isn't all just angst and in my opinion, despite the sadness, is a truly beautiful story. it's also told entirely from Jungkook's POV which was new for me as a writer. I hope you all enjoy it :)

-> Taglist

Part I ~ coming on Friday, May 8, 2026 at 7:00 pm EST

Summary: There's two boys but only one girl, leaving Jungkook hopelessly in love with someone he can never have, and doesn't want to have, because that would mean taking you away from the person he loves most. But what happens when there's suddenly only one boy and one girl, even if it's the wrong one?

Word Count: ~ 29.1k

Part II (M) ~ coming on Friday, May 15, 2026 at 7:00 pm EST

Summary: Jungkook's been living as his twin for three months without too many hiccups or blunders, but he can't keep you waiting to be intimate again for much longer. Not to mention all the other obstacles which keep constantly appearing in his path.

Word Count: ~ 33.4k

Part III (M) ~ coming on Friday, May 22, 2026 at 7:00 pm EST

Summary: There's no turning back after diving headfirst into the deep end with you, not that Jungkook would ever want to, but past secrets and choices entirely out of his control might just topple the delicate house of cards he's spent eight months building to conceal his web of lies.

Word Count: ~ 17.7k

[gukcnt]

RUN, LITTLE BUNNY ✘ MYG 【 CHARACTER MOODBOARD 】

min yoongi had never spared a soul. he was heartless and showed no mercy, his hands always stained with blood. born to hunt, killing was natural to him ≠ until you. a shy bunny hybrid with wide eyes and so innocent it made his chest hurt. you awakened something forbidden inside him… a craving that left him torn between being a predator and becoming your protector.

pairing 𓂃 hybrid hunter!yoongi x bunny hybrid!femreader

genre 𓂃 dark romance, hyrbid au, enemies to lovers, forbidden romance, hunter x prey, yandere!yoongi, haegum!yoongi, obsession, power imbalance, pining and yearning, love/hate relationship, contrast of worlds, crime, smut, fluff, angst

warnings 𓂃 18+, explicit sex scenes, mature themes, dark content, graphic violence and gore, mentions of death, smoking and alcohol consumption, possessiveness, miscommunication and argument, fear of love and intimidation, love confessions and confrontation, stalking, each part contains their individual warnings (reader discretion is advected due to the dark and potentially triggering content)

a/n 𓂃 hoping to post part one within this week babes!

「 MASTERLIST | TEASER 」

【 Ი︵𐑼 】 Y/N ;

❝you came here to kill me... maybe i should be scared or run for my life b-but somehow, being with you feels safer than anywhere else.❞

【 𓆩☠︎︎𓆪 】 MIN YOONGI ;

❝if i catch you… i’m gonna fuck you right here on the forest floor and stuff you full of my cum until the only thing you know how to do is take my cock.❞

【 ✟ 】 MYG + Y/N ;

❝if loving you is a curse, i will wear it proudly for eternity.❞

© GUKCNT — all rights reserved | divider by @/pixopix

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

i'm begging you for some Keegan angst🙏🏼 like perhaps he and his s/o get split up during an ambush; their s/o goes MIA and when they're finally found, they're badly injured,,, something like that. maybe some fluff/comfort at the end

happy holidays!🎊

Laughing Poets

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

Synopsis: It was poetic the way the bullet ripped through your flesh – the spray of blood that exploded from you with high velocity. How will Keegan react when he realizes that he has to leave you behind?

Word Count: 10.8k

Warning: Angst, fluff, blood & gore, torture, Keegan calls you 'Kid' a lot, happy ending

A/N: This was supposed to be done about two days ago but I decided I hated it so I re-wrote the last half (might have switched a few things around). Enjoy, Anon, and thanks for the request. Also, not quite sure on the exact characterization of Keegan yet but I'm getting there. Slowly.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

It was poetic the way the bullet ripped through your flesh – the spray of blood that exploded from you with high velocity; so much so that it splattered the far wall of the decrepit house. At that moment, as you felt all the air being expelled from your lungs in a shuttering gasp, you could see poets from the long-gone Romantic Era scratching at thin paper with an ink-stained quill, laughing. Their charcoal-stained fingers would twitch as they write out your life with a furrowed brow, bathed in candlelight, and would smile as they slashed their signature at the bottom.

Would the poem of your life end so quickly?

Your head slams to the ground, white light erupting from behind your eyes as you try and suck back enough air just enough to be able to scream in agony. Molten heat is tearing you apart, peeling back nerves; breaking bone, and slashing past muscle with an inexhaustible surety. Dropping the modified AX-50 from your grip, the black and grey metal slams to the ground with a defining clatter as your ears ring with lightning. In the back of your mind, you hear the glass of its Thermal Duel Power Scope shatter into a million tiny pieces.

Shit, you had just gotten that from Kick a week ago. 

It was strange – the repercussions of your actions were happening all around you, but it felt like it was a world away as realization set in. You’d gotten shot? How? You got shot?! 

You wished your pitiful existence was worthy of a poem, truth be told; that it was worth more than the crimson that leaks from your left shoulder to the old, cracked, wooden ground. But that was never the case. 

Your body writhes and you wail out, head jerking back and forth in a primal display. 

You had chosen this life, whether by your own need for revenge or the sense of duty…you knew not. And now you would pay for it. 

Nobody knew you were hit, because you hadn’t told anyone through the comms, but there was also the fact that you were never meant to be this far out anyways. Merrick had fucking warned you this would happen if you stalked off on your own again, but as always, you had chosen the stubborn route. When you had seen this run-down shack of a house with a perfect vantage point, it made that predatory part of your brain sing with a need to hike to it – nestled right in between an outcropping of trees and overgrown vines atop a hill. With the threat of Federation soldiers in the war-torn town below, it was a God-send. You controlled it. You were master here.

Like a bird, Keegan would tell you, striding past, you just can’t resist a good perch, can you, Kid? 

The thing is, your Ghost Team shouldn't know you’re injured out here, but soon enough as you frantically try and grasp at your decimated shoulder with burning tears in your eyes and a gaping mouth, a stiff voice wavers through the static of your radio. The blood pools from you like an overturned ink well and your face pulls back in a desperate snarl.

The sound of gunfire was still raging hundreds of miles down into the remains of what was once the outskirts of San Diego but is now known as No Man’s Land. 

“Kid,” Keegan’s voice plays along your ears, but you’re too busy trying to force yourself up, blood hacked up from your mouth as you let out a strangled, no, “Where’d your scope go? Ajax needs cover fire two clicks to the west. Eyes up. No time for foolin’ around.”

Your skin is peeled back, and your flesh is infected with bits of your shirt and padded vest fabric inside the wound itself – like bugs crawling all over. You don’t want to think about the exit wound. The bullet had come from another sniper farther in the city, and, you knew, you were lucky you had survived the shot at all just on that fact alone. In your case, when you pulled the trigger, you rarely missed a killing blow. 

That was probably why Elias Walker had approached you in the first place – your kill count for Federation soldiers was off the charts, even with how young you were. Not quite a Ghost in full, but something in the middle; nearly there but not quite. You had to earn the mask first. Ajax liked to call you Greenhorn, but Merrick was more prone to Rookie. Kick was rarely out of his lab, so he didn’t call you much of anything. But Keegan…

“Blue Jay?” Keegan’s voice once more wafts out into the burning air, “Sitrep. Now.” 

“Keegan, push forward,” Merrick cuts through the channel and his heavy tone fills the house just as you begin to drag yourself across the floor. The echoes of the gun battle reverberate over the hills, “They’re boxing us in! Move, move, move!”  

You collapse against an overturned and broken coffee table with shaking limbs and tear-stained cheeks, struggling to find a good enough hold to press down on the wound as crimson leaks from between your fingers. A lung-shuttering gasp exits the flesh of your lips right before a burning makes itself known in the back of your throat. Not able to stop yourself, bile is forced all the way from your stomach, making a trail up your esophagus and finally pooling in your mouth. Gagging, you reel forward onto one hand and release the contents of Keegan’s ration bar from lunch back into the earth, watching the liquid concoction pool onto the ground that has grass whisps sneaking in from between the floorboards. Seeing that, and barking out another wail as long ropes of crimson drip down from your limp arm, you throw up once more. Everything is on fire. 

“When…when Ajax said getting shot felt like your skin was being flayed,” You groan, head starting to feel light-headed, “I thought he was just joking.” 

The sound of your agony-drowned voice brought a sense of urgency into your rapidly fading psyche. 

“Apply pressure,” Merrick’s imaginary voice in your head makes you straighten your spine – like he was a little angel on your shoulder hitting you with a newspaper. You call-back the memory of the Ghost as he was going over medical procedures a month back, “If your hand slips, you die, and I'm not carrying your limp body back to the Fort like a fucken’ sack of potatoes. No one can respond better than yourself in this type of high-risk situation, you understand? Panic is not an option in No Man's Land and if you think it is, you have no right being here...Make a tourniquet; tie it off, and wait for backup. Here, Rookie, practice on Keegan.” 

Doing the best you can with only one functioning arm, your fingers twitch as you card them clumsily over the pouches on your chest. Finding the velcro of your medical bag, you whine as you rip it open, flesh so sensitive that even the rough fabric of your own property is grating to feel. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you tell yourself, you most likely would have already passed out.

Ripping out the roll of medical gauze and praying you had enough, your shaking hand travels to your right shoulder, not even noticing the hurried conversations and screaming orders over the comms. 

Make a tourniquet, You think to yourself, grunting out into the air when you have to move your arm into position. The entire limb was stained red, liquid dripping off your nonresponsive fingers to the floor. What if you never regained the function of your arm again? Your thoughts were running. What if you could never shoot your rifle all because you felt the need to go too far on your own? To prove yourself?

The thoughts scared you more than you liked to admit. This life was everything to you – pushing back against the Federation, who had taken so much from you, and being alongside the Ghosts. It was what you had worked so hard for. 

Then fight for it, You don’t know why Keegan’s smooth voice comes to you at that moment, but as you pull the gauze so tight around your open wound you scream and see stars; nearly keeling over as well, it brings forward a steely determination, Don’t expect everything on a silver platter, Kid. But then again, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know that.

“Fucking hell,” Face contorted with unmatched distress, you suck down breaths and let the gauze soak up your life; blood in deep puddles already seeping through, “I need to move – t-tell the others…”

“Blue Jay’s not responding,” Keegan speaks over the static of the comms channel, “I’m doubling back.” 

Your functioning hand latches onto the radio, weak fingers slipping for a moment as your body sways forward. Struggling, you stumble to your feet and steady yourself on the termite-eaten wall near the window. You peak out and try to spot the enemy sniper with wheezing breath and a sweat-flooded forehead. 

Pressing down on the radio to speak, you’re appalled by how hard the simple act was. 

Am I dying? 

“Don’t Keegan – in order to break the line you’ll need everyone to be there,” You have to blink away the blurriness of your eyes, “I’m spotting twelve tangos near the storage facility. Merrick, I’d suggest taking a left and circling the flank.”

Merrick responds, “Good eyes, Rookie. Ajax, on my six!”

Your vision swirls, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath and splay your legs shoulder length apart so you don’t fall forwards. You pointedly avoid look at your wound.

“You want to explain why you weren’t responding?” Keegan’s voice is stern, hiding an edge somewhere in its tone that you choose not to acknowledge, “This isn’t a game!” On a far-off building, you spy a glint, making your attention snap to it like a cat and a mouse—sniper scope. 

There’s that Bastard, Your fingers twitch with hatred, glossy and tear-clogged eyes narrowing. If you had the ability to shoot right now…

A bullet nearly takes your head off, splintering the frame of the window before lodging into the floor.

“Shit!” You yell, reeling back; forgetting for a moment you were on the open channel.

“Greenhorn, what’s going on over there?” Ajax finally graces the line, “You doing something stupid again?” You don’t know why you hesitate…why you’re so cautious to reveal to them that–

“That’s it,” Keegan snarls, “I’m going to your position.”

You shake your head, your mind so jostled that you don’t say anything for a moment until you realize that no one can see you.

“I took a bullet to my right shoulder.” You concede, voice low with self-hatred, “Clean through, nothing to worry about, just won’t be able to cover anyone…C-can’t feel my arm.” 

The line goes dark for a moment, and as you listen to your own ragged breathing that leaves you more hunched over the longer you stand up, it suddenly explodes. A cold shiver travels down your spine; sweat drips from your nose. Your eyelashes flutter.

“What the hell do you mean you got hit!?”

“Son of a Bitch, Rookie, give us your position, now. We’re pulling back.”

“No!” You yell, growling, and shaking your head, “This is a key location to taking back San Diego – there are vantage points, cover, hell, even weapons caches left over from before the war in one of the military bases. We need to secure this town. I’m fine!” But they weren’t listening, even if everything you were saying made sense. 

They can’t ruin the operation over one person, You told yourself, heart pumping a mile-a-minute, No one I’ve worked with has ever done that before and the Ghosts sure as Hell shouldn’t be the first. These guys were Special Operations before ODIN destroyed half the US – they know better.

But you were forgetting one critical detail. The Ghosts aren’t just any other team; they care about their own perhaps even more than the missions they get sent on. 

But I’m not one of them, You grunt to yourself, letting your eyes close and knocking your head back into the wall behind you. The fact makes you want to cry, but you’re forced to acknowledge the sore spot later. 

God, your arm felt like it was being burned to a crisp. You grunt and grit your teeth as another wave goes through you.

“How long ago did you get hit!?” Keegan barks and the sound of shouting from below your perch momentarily increases.

“I..” You try and think. How long had it been? More than seven minutes couldn’t have passed. 

“Answer me!” 

“F-fuck, I don’t know! Four-five minutes ago!” Yelling makes your head throb, a deep booming that echoes like a drum in your consciousness. 

The door to the house squeaks as it opens. 

Eyes snapping to the wall that separates the living room from the foyer, your voice cuts out immediately. Keegan was fast – lethally fast – but the town below your perch was at least a few miles, this was because your AX-50 was specialized at long-distance shots. It would be no good in the heat of an ongoing ground battle. I mean, hell, it only held seven shots; even with the modifications you had added on by yourself. 

The person who had opened the door wasn’t a Ghost.

And that meant they were your enemy.

Doing the best you can to move stealthily, you unclip the combat knife from your belt and listen with bated breath as you slink over to the doorway. You hate the way your hand shakes as it holds the hilt but revel in the fact that your left arm is numb enough to not cause you to bellow out. Holding your breath, you lean against the barrier on your good shoulder and bring the blade up near your chin. 

There are hesitant footsteps that shake the fragile frame of the building, and you feel the reverberations travel up your feet and make your skin shiver. Goosebumps form along your arms. 

Creeeek, crack-clack

The floorboards squeal like a stuck pig, the old boards splintering off as an unseen assailant’s feet cautiously move through the house. The sound of heavy breathing comes closer, nearing the doorway to the room you say stone-still in. 

Your radio flares to life.

“Rookie–” It only takes a moment, but Merrick’s voice is the signature at the end of your poem; whatever you would have heard from the man was lost. 

A Federation soldier dressed in camo and grasping a shotgun rampages around the corner. 

—

Keegan knows he’s too late when he sees the run-down visage of the shack with its front door open.

I taught her never to leave the doors behind her ajar. 

The Ghost had been training you for months – taking you somewhat under his wing, albeit reluctantly. Elias was clear when he gathered everyone together, train her to be like us. And they had all done just that, Keegan more harshly than anyone, but that wasn’t to say you were untalented. 

The stoic Ghost had yet to see a more talented sniper than himself, but you came in as a close second. You were the perfect asset, able to stay back when everyone else went in. You were the cover, the master behind the curtain that clears a path with a pull of a trigger. The Ghosts owed many missed nicks and scrapes to you and your calls. So when Keegan had heard you stop answering over the comms; not responding to Ajax’s hurried quips…

Keegan’s heart hammers as he ascends the front steps overgrown with weeds and wildflowers, the Honey Badger Assault Rifle held white-knuckled in his grip. As if on autopilot, the man switches the safety off and enters, face behind the fabric of his balaclava. The contorted visage of the white paint over the front created quite the nightmare and paired with the black eyepaint Keegan could only be compared to a beast. 

The slight clinking of the rope hook tied to his waist and the metallic bit and bobs in his vest was the only sounds he made, the years upon years of perfection ingrained into the way he breathed; the press of his feet to the floor. Keegan would only allow someone to hear him if he wanted them to, even if he was the size of a boar.

His cerulean eyes flicker down the hallway, but nothing moved beside the stale wind – smelling only dirt and…

Blood, Keegan’s nose twitches, eyes narrowing. The man tries to ignore the way his heart picks up pace.  

Had he really grown so attached to you that he would forsake his teammates to come and check on your situation? Perhaps the stupidest thing he could do to himself was begin to enjoy your presence. But that didn’t change the fact that you were his responsibility, and in the back of his mind there was a nagging concern. 

He had grown to care for you, and that was unexceptable.  

Keegan enters the living room with his rifle held ahead of him, scanning the room for tangos before he lowers it. Empty. 

And then he sees the remnants of a struggle. Head going back and forth the Ghost follows a trail of gore along the floor, an explosion of crimson over the wall behind him, and feels his chest rumble in a growl over the image of a broken AX-50. His breath stills.

The metal was dented, and the scope shattered, leaving glass over the ground like marbles. Keegan felt a dangerous heat enter his blood, eyes flashing; a specific type of rage growing in his gut and twisting his intestines. 

“Where are you, Kid?” He mutters, fingers flexing over the trigger of his weapon. Where did you go? His throat tightens, lips thin. Merrick’s voice comes over the radio with a hard edge.

“Keegan, sitrep. How’s our girl doing? Evac is on its way and we’re pulling back. Getn’ pretty hot over here.” Keegan takes a moment before rushing over to your signature weapon, letting his own fall against his chest and bounce off his vest. Grasping the gun you worshiped by the blue strap, his eyes go along its long body, spying the custom modifications and intricate detailing over the stock. Tiny Blue Jays are scratched and covered in crimson; the colors faded.

You had painted it yourself when Keegan had taken a liking to referring to you by the callsign, and he had never really had the chance to look at it until now. Staring at it for a moment longer, his thumb lightly swipes away a droplet of blood, letting one of the birds once more be visible. Keegan swings the rifle over his back and feels the heaviness of it – the weight of the customizations and the top-grade material. This was your pride and joy along his back, moving with every flex of his shoulders with the barrel hitting the back of his knee. 

He carried it was a sort of reverence; a delicateness that was never connected to his name.

She’d never leave this behind without a fight. 

Keegan’s tense fingers go to his radio, eyebrows pulling in and eyes emotionless. But the stubble shake of his hand makes him want to punch someone. Whoever had done this to you would pay.

“Blue Jay’s gone.” He states, monotone, “House is empty with signs of a struggle.” 

The man turns back to the doorway, glass crunching under his feet, and walks back out into the hallway. 

“What do you mean ‘gone,’ man?” Ajax butts in, and over the comms the sound of bullets hitting metal creates a ringing sound, “She’ll bleed out!” 

“Move!” Merrick’s voice sizzles out as a grenade goes off, and the line cuts for a moment as Keegan nonchalantly comments, 

“All good?” 

“We’re taking heavy fire. Without the girl’s backup, we can’t stay here – Ajax and I are heading to the Evac point and’ll draw their attention into the woods. Find that damn kid, Sergeant.” 

“On it, Sir.” Keegan releases the device on his vest and turns his hidden head. He sweeps the rest of the shack with a heavy weight on his shoulders, taking notice of a constant trail of blood throughout the hallway. With every moment passing the weight of the situation settles in his gut.

“C’mon Kid,” He whispers, voice gruff, until he finally goes to the busted-down back door and finds the body. 

It was laying face down in a bed of wild grass, a thin breeze moving its shirt sleeves. A shotgun lays a few feet from the corpse, surrounded by old rubble and a small downed treetrunk; it was still smoking, dark metal caressed by dirt. Keegan rushes over, taking in the motionless branches of the forest and the knife still lodged in the Federation soldier’s head. 

Tapping the man with his foot, the Ghost goes to grab the blade by the hilt and rip it out. Hearing the shink of metal separating from flesh and feeling the spray of blood over his tactical glove. 

Just as he feared, the knife belonged to him. His body coils.  

Keegan had given it to you after you lost your own on the last mission, the black blade a perfect match to the one currently sitting on his waist. He had wanted it back, but you had teased and asked what if I needed it in the future with a raised eyebrow and body leaning into Ajax who sat next to you. Begrudgingly, Keegan had deadpanned and said he expected you to return it after you found a replacement. But you had just smiled at him, lips pulling back into a bright display and wrinkled eyes. Your face had glowed in the daylight, shadows disappearing and the heavy bags everyone was sporting under their eyes vanishing on yours. Keegan had felt his chest hitch, even if outwardly he remained as stoic as always, and that was it.

The man had dropped the conversation and had never asked for the blade back. In fact, something had swirled in Keegan’s gut the next time he saw his knife strapped to your waist, the band holding the hilt tight against you and bunching your shirt up. It was pathetic, Keegan admitted when he had frozen at the sight at the time, legs jerking, but seeing something of his own on your body had made his heart go wild; eyes so obviously boring into you that your cheeks had gained a sheen of embarrassment that day. Keegan had stalked away, unable to admit to himself that something was going in inside of him that he had no control over.

That was the point of no return, he realized. The overturned inkwell onto the thin parchment. 

You were the poet and him the words in your head, using him without a clue. 

“Fuck,” He growls, gripping the knife so tightly it digs into his gloves and hurts the flesh inside. His head turns to the forest, burning eyes roving for any sign of you even as a strike of pride filters through him. Injured and disoriented, you had taken down a man two times your size with only his knife and your wits. Now that really got his blood pumping.

Besides a thin trail of blood drops over the grass, leading far into the tree line, you had all but disappeared. Keegan’s heart was pounding, ready to run in after you.

She couldn’t have gotten far, especially not with a wound like she described. I’ll catch up. I have to.

“Keegan we need you at the Evac point, ASAP!” Ajax screams, voice strained, “Else we’re going to be coming home in body bags, man!” 

“I don’t have Blue Jay yet–”

“There’s no time,” Merrick yells out, and Keegan hears the whizz of bullets from over the line, “Federation soldiers are storming us – get here now! Or you’re getting left behind. That’s an order, Sergeant!” 

She won’t survive, Keegan tells himself, forcing down the mucus in his throat, not by herself. 

Ghosts don’t leave their own behind. Merrick undoubtedly planned to return when the heat was off them; send a recon force to the area to look for signs of life. Keegan clenched his fists, eyes dead as they stare off into the trees and expansive foliage. This area was notorious for its high cliffs and steep dropoffs – one wrong move and everything was over in an instant. The earthquakes were worse. Ever since ODIN was fired the tremors had been constant. 

The odds weren’t in your favor even without adding in a possibly fatal wound.

Keegan takes a step forward, inching closer to the treeline unconsciously with firm feet. 

“Keegan – do you trust her!?” 

“What?” Merrick’s loud comment had shaken Keegan, making him freeze; eyes wide. He was only one step into the wild, perhaps only one step closer to finding you. Did he trust you? What kind of question was that? The woman who always fooled around with Ajax, pushed Marrick’s buttons to a point the man had begun to respect you? Blue Jay, who always made a point to bring Keegan into conversations and try to get him to smile at her – carrying herself with elegant confidence? 

Did he trust you? How does one even describe trust? After everything that’s happened, could he place his trust in someone else other than his Ghost brothers? Keegan’s jaw clenches, head looking back and forth before slowly going to sneak a peak at the body behind him. His chest tightened. 

He already had an answer, but found that he couldn’t say it aloud. 

Apparently, the moment of silence gave his friends what they needed.

“Then get your ass back here! The sooner we have a chance to regroup we’re comin’ back and gettin’ her. Rookie knows what she’s doing…we’ve given her every lesson we could. It’s up to her for a while.”

“Trust in her, Keegan” Ajax chimes, “Just as she trusts you.”

Keegan turns his back to the forest, hearing every step of his feet over the ground as they carry him away from you. 

“Copy.”

The words are firm, but the ink of them bleeds.

—

You wake up chained to the ceiling, shoes gone, and socked feet dangling over the floor. Blood from a new gash on your head trails over your right eye and leaves the already flickering movement of your eyelashes more constant as the liquid dribbles to your tense jaw in a steady flow.

It had happened so fast – far faster than your already addled mind could have comprehended. A group of Federation soldiers had been camping out in the woods and had sent only one of their men into the shack you had deemed too far out of the way for any up-close confrontation; the rest had stayed and waited. The minute your back was too close to the tree line after you had lodged Keegan’s blade into the lone man’s skull, they had grabbed you. 

Apparently, they dragged me back into town, too, You growled to yourself, how could I be so dumb?! 

The only upside of this situation was that in order to question you they had to keep you alive long enough to get you to speak. Already the heavy padding over your numb left shoulder calls to you like a siren song; the dichotomy of the position you were in almost made you laugh. The Federation soldiers had you hooked up to the ceiling like a butchered pig but took the time to dress your wound so you wouldn’t bleed out. 

You wiggle your fingers, the lack of circulation already leaving the top half of your body tingly. Next, your feet. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you’ve been drugged, because the words from your head seem to spill from your lips unprompted and the pain of your situation is dull; muted.

“Hell,” Your voice is loud, tone slurred, and rough. Oh yeah, definitely high off something, “If you wanted to tie me up you could have just asked me!” 

Opening your eyes as full as you can, you look around weakly and lock onto rusted metal walls and a set of large warehouse doors. 

“You brought me to the warehouse? How stupid could you be?” You say aloud, twisting your neck around before the clinking of chains stops you, “Isn’t this near the old logging company? This is close to the edge of the town! If I wanted to escape I’d be gone in five seconds.”

Your drugged snickering echoes off the walls, bouncing back at you mockingly. Soon enough footsteps sound off from beyond the closed door, many, many feet marching down an unseen hallway. You smile, thinking, finally, and hear the blood from your head drip to the floor every other second. The warehouse door slides open with a shriek and your vision blinks out, black momentary shrouding you before it filters back. 

Three men enter the room, all dressed in the black and gray camo of the Federation – straps and combat vest so similar to your Ghosts that in your state you confuse the two. They even wore black balaclavas and the one in the middle is a similar build to your Sergeant, tall, and built like a damn bear.

“Keegan?” You whisper, head tilting to rest on your strained arms as your eyebrows pull in before sparks of pain fly. Was that…you have to shake your head, skull suddenly burning. No. There’s a thin moment of clarity before that haze re-settles. 

This isn’t right. That is not my Keegan. Not my Ghosts.

The middle man leads the other two at his sides, nodding his head behind him and the door begins to close; the others peel off and go to guard the entrance, leaving you and the man to have a conversation semi-alone. 

He stops a few feet from you, eyes a deep brown and boring into your body. Your lips pull back.

“There are more simple ways to question someone besides stringing them up, man.” Your sentence cracks halfway through, but you don’t notice. 

The man just stares, tilting his head to the side. After a moment of eye contact, he speaks.

“You are not a Ghost.” His voice is accented – Spanish is most likely his first language.

“Yeah, trust me,” You groan, head once more pulsing. Your feet shimmy over the ground, toes lightly brushing the concrete, “No one’s more fucked up about that than I am. I train my ass off–” 

A sold punch is landed to your gut, tossing your body back as the chains above you squeal. The air is expelled from your lungs in a series of deep coughs, lungs rattling as spittle flies from your lips, you feel your organs shake inside of you. It takes a few moments for you to catch your breath and dispel the sledgehammer blow, but already the man is talking when the bulk of your panting has barely slowed.

“You are going to tell me a way into Fort Santa Monica,” He pulls a knife from his waistband and takes a step forward, putting the blade directly on your right side. Your clothes crease where the tip presses and needle-like sparks fly from your flesh, “Or I will have to ring the answer from you like water in a rag.”

With a pounding heart, your mouth runs unprompted, “Ghosts don’t break, asshat. And I may not be one of them, but I certainly know that I won’t let my boys down.” 

What the hell did they give you? Keegan had warned you to never say too much when captured. Don’t make ‘em angry unless you want a reminder of the power they have at that moment. But it wasn’t like you could help it anymore–

The blade sinks through hot flesh, and inside the warehouse, a high-pitched scream flows outside; scattering birds and beasts alike. 

This continues for three long days. 

—

Keegan was stone-still as Elias bend over the meeting table, a map of the town and surrounding forest where you had gone missing spread out. Everyone was silent, and Keegan has to shuffle his feet to reduce the tension in his thighs and shoulders; his hands tighten over his chest. Ajax is the first to speak over the tense air as Merrick repeatedly itches at the skin of his bald scalp from where he stands behind a chair.

“We have to move,” The Ghost growls, and when no one responds Ajax hits a closed fist to the table, “soon, Elias.”

The slam echoes over the room, bouncing off the walls.

“Ajax,” The man in question shakes his head, “What we need to do is think this through. Form a proper plan and carry it out with more intel.” 

Elias pulls back to his full height but Keegan’s eyes stay locked on the map, flicking mutely over the marks and topography. 

It’s been three days, He tells himself, She’s probably dead by now. The files already have her labeled as MIA.

Under his balaclava, his jaw clenches in feral denial. Why did the thought of that fact make him want to go out and search for you himself, regardless of Elias’s sound logic? You couldn’t be dead. Missing was better than that – missing meant he could find you.

Perhaps it was the same emotion that had given him a sinking feeling when, two days ago, the entire Ghost Team had gone back out to the forest under the cover of darkness to search for you. All Keegan had found was the footsteps of multiple Federation soldiers and signs of one of them dragging something heavy behind his back. 

It was obvious what had happened, and as he had slowly turned his head down to the town lit up by spotlights, the only thing that had stopped him from tracking you down was Elias’s heavy hand on his shoulder. Keegan’s eyes were lit with a dangerous light, glinting with the promise of revenge. 

He wanted you back – he would get you back – regardless of the consequences. No one messed with you and lived, whether that meant the revenge was carried out by your own hand or by his doesn’t matter. That town would be purged. Keegan would see to it. 

The Federation had made it personal. 

“She’s getting tortured!” Ajax yells, insight voicing what everyone already knew, “Greenhorn would rush in if it was one of us out there instead of her!” 

“Then it’s a good thing we’re here, isn’t it?” Elias runs a hand down his face, army shirt and cargo pants noticeably wrinkled. No one had slept while they waited for more recent intelligence on the number of tangos in the town, “We can’t be rash. They’ll know we're comin’ for her if we mess this up.”

“Elias,” Merrick finally speaks up, placing his large hands on the chair’s back and leaning into it, “You know we all trust you to make the call…but I have to agree with Ajax on this. We’re practically leaving the Kid behind if we wait any longer.” The stocky Ghost scratches at his beard, “You know what they’ll do to her.”

The older man has a soft spot for you, Keegan realized with a roll of his head and a crack of his neck. All of them had a soft spot. Waiting here was like keeping a group of trained attack dogs from a target – most of all Keegan. Patience was supposed to be his ally, and he had taught you just the same, so how had it left him so stupendously?

Elias grunts, crossing his arms. He looks over to the only person who had thus far been silent and brooding in the corner. A dark cloud was heavy over the Ghost’s head, anyone could see it. A man at the edge of an already fraying rope of sanity. 

“Keegan?” Elias asks, gruffly, already knowing the man’s emotions and thoughts, “Do you have anything to add?”

Normally Keegan was one who would wait for a sure answer, but in this instance, the next words he said rocketed out of him before he could fully think over the gravity of what they meant. Always the cautious one, the times he wanted to rush in blind could be counted on one hand and on less than five fingers…but that was before you. Before the hours the two of you spent together training, building trust, and protecting each other in the field with knife and bullet. 

All that mattered was getting you back to him. And the words wrote themselves, curved, under the gentle influence of an ink quill. 

“I’m bringing my girl home.” 

A moment of silence tightens over his throat; the stoic man’s feet move from under him as his eyes slightly widen. If he had the ability his face would have blossomed with a blush, but even so, the embarrassment was visible to those who had known him the longest. 

Shit, he hadn’t meant for it to sound like that.

Keegan dares to look back at Elias, only to find the leader smirking, a knowing glimmer in his eyes that leaves him freezing like a mouse under the gaze of an owl. 

“Well, then, let’s go get your girl back.”

Ajax snickers and him and Merrick spare glances, amused, nearly saying about time.

—

Your body lightly swings, blood in a pool below your feet and rippling as another drop enters the flood. Your nose is broken; bleeding, just like your ribs. Cuts litter your skin, clothes are ripped and shredded and swarmed with crimson both dried and new. Your combat vest had been ripped off, the rough material thrown somewhere behind you by enraged fingers and ripped apart for any indication of a blueprint of your Fort or useful intel.

The Federation soldiers had left you alone with your thoughts not five minutes ago and to your credit, you have not broken. Not even after everything – the hits, stabs, and beatings that left you sobbing and biting back pleas. Throughout all of it, Keegan’s voice stuck with you; you had drowned in good memories in the small moments you were able to breathe without being slugged in the chest. 

The way Keegan would send you soft glances when he thought you weren't looking and how the blank-faced man kept your skills sharp as a way to make sure you were safe. His rare smiles; comforting interactions when you were up late practicing with your rifle. A weak smile filters over your bloody and bruised face, eyes blinking closed as the air is expelled from your lungs in a deep sigh. 

“You’re going to get a sore neck if you keep doing this, Little Blue,” The words startled you, eyes widening from where one looks through the scope of your AX-50. Your head jerks back, finger immediately dropping from the trigger you were just about to pull. 

“What the actual fuck, Keegan!?” Hair whips around you as your body turns, facing the man leaning against the doorway as a nightly breeze rustles through the outside firing range, “Has no one told you not to sneak up on the person with the gun?”

“I was the one that told you that, Kid.” He raises a brow, strong jawline on display for the moon. 

It was rare that the man took off his balaclava when in your presence, and you took a moment to stare from your position on the ground; your heart jerks against the concrete before you shove the feeling in it’s tissue down. 

Keegan’s presence made the heat on the back of your neck increase, hands getting clammy over the metal of your gun. You flex them in what you hope looks simply like a resetting method.

“Well, then you’re not good at taking your own advice...” You grumble, huffing and fixing your posture, looking back out over the field and the white target over six hundred feet away, “And my neck is perfectly fine, thank you.”

“It won’t be if you keep getting up and creeping out here every night. I thought I wore you out today?” The memory of getting thrown to the ground more times than you could count during a sparring match made your muscles remember to ache, “Or do I need to ramp up the difficulty? You almost pinned Ajax today.” You suppress a wince and send a quick glance over to the Ghost, who pushes off the wall and sighs, stalking over to you. 

“If you think you need to,” Licking your lips, you feel his heavy shadow over your form. You replace your cheek to the stock of your rifle, once more seeking to line up the shot as quickly as possible, “And you did ware me out.” Muttering, you feel yourself get lost in the wave of the sensation of purpose – superiority singing in your veins. 

This rifle was your quill, and with it, you signed the signature of death on the poems of others’ lives. 

This was your calling, and not a moment later, not feeling the reverent eyes on the side of your face as Keegan stills his breath, you pull the trigger. It lands just a millimeter from the center of the target. Your jaw tightens and you tell yourself, ‘not good enough’ with a narrowing of your eyes. 

The action wasn’t missed. 

“You’re at this every night, Kid,” Keegan stands by your left thigh, his eyes digging into you, “Don’t pretend like I haven’t noticed.” 

You pull back, shame coursing through your veins. You had tried to be stubble, but were you really that bad? 

But of course you were, your cheeks head, you lived in the Ghosts’ barracks. They all knew you were sneaking off at night to practice. Your lips thinned at that realization; you really had a lot to learn.

“Blue Jay,” Keegan prods, the authority of his rank now leaking into his tone; it has you straightening unconsciously, “Answer me.”

“...I just need to be better,” You mutter under your breath, going to line up another shot. 

A hand on the scope jostles the view, making you pause and tense. Your breath stills in your chest, feeling body heat beginning to leak into your shivering form. 

No words are spoken in that silent minute, but you know enough about your Sergeant to tell when he wants you to stop doing something. Keegan’s silence was a mystery that you had only just started to unravel for yourself. Your hands loosen enough for him to take the rifle from your grasp, bringing it up into his grip delicately. 

Shuffling up to your knees, you place one hand on your thigh as the other goes to rub at your eyes, feeling the fatigue leak out onto your fingers. 

“You’re not going to get better if you keep forcing your eyes open,” Keegan mutters, and his form knees down next to you. The rifle was placed on the ground a few feet away. A warm hand lays on your shoulder and you stifle a hitch in your breath managing to inhale the scent of gunpowder and fresh-cut grass; hickory wood. You have to blink away the sleep that settles on your eyelids. 

How was he so warm?

“How do you know that?” You grunt out, itching your eyebrow. You don’t register right away, but a deep chuckle settles warmly on your chest as the man at your side releases it.  Reverberations like a purr make you sigh slowly.

“You’re good, Little Blue,” Keegan’s hand goes to your chin, and your cheeks heat as he directs your gaze to his gently, thump and first finger firm. His eyes flicker over your face, taking in every line and imperfection before settling on the black and blue bags that have lived on you for weeks. In turn, you study him – the strong jaw line, usually hard eyes leaning towards soft and caring. You liked when he looked like that; more than anything, you liked when he looked at you like that, “don’t reduce your skill to anything less than what it is. Practice is good, Kid,” Keegan lowers his voice, and your eyes stay locked, “But I can’t watch you ruin yourself.” 

Your heart stutters, and your body becomes soft under his touch.

“...but I don’t want to let anyone down.” Eyebrows turning in, Keegan pauses a second at your comment, fingers on your chin tightening for a moment before it begins to travel. 

Heart pounding, his touch leaves electricity behind with every scrape of his callouses and healed scars. His eyes stay trapped on yours, watching every minute emotion and movement from you and your hands shock-still in your lap. 

“Let ‘em down?” Keegan huffs, the breath ruffling your hair, and his hand settles over your cheek. He continues as his large thumb goes to pet the skin of your undereye, leading your eyes to flicker shut as he mutters your name, “Not a damn chance. You’re a natural, Kid. Hell, you get some proper sleep for once and maybe one day you’ll be as good as me.” 

Even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t help the smile that bloomed over your face, feeling his eyes softly fall over your visage.

“Promise?” 

You missed the small twitch of Keegan’s lips, “...I promise.” 

Shaking yourself out of the memory, your body plays dead as the warehouse door once more opens. A plan had formed, taking root and digging into the small tissue of your brain. 

“Why isn’t she moving?” The voice of the Middle Man was enough to make your body tense, toes twitching. No one seemed to notice before you once more went slack, “Get her eyes open!” 

Twin pairs of feet slam to the floor, coming closer; soon hands are slamming into your ribs, shaking you back and forth. The bones in your chest move strangely, disconnected from where they were supposed to be. But you hold back your screams, a thin, lip-bitten whine stuck in your mouth. 

Your body whines to a stop when the blows halt. 

“I said get her eyes open!” Words are yelled in Spanish, and if you were in the right state you would have been able to translate them. 

Merrick made sure you were fluent in multiple languages and was one hell of a rough linguistics teacher. Every day you had kept a count of how many swear words he let loose. The undefeated record was fifty-five in one session. 

“Let her fall, then! She can’t be dead.” The last half is muttered, followed by a tapping of fingers over palms. Your ears twitch at the sound of receding steps, fast feet, and then the sound of a pulley system and rattling chains. 

Your body drops, slamming to the floor, and head bouncing off the concrete like a ball. You don’t have to play dead at that moment, because you’re sure that you passed out, a crack resounding in the bone of your skull and shaking your brain. The chains around your numb arms loosen, leaving your bloodied wrists burning as the air hits them. 

Staying still, your body lays sideways, but small trails of water dribble out from your tear ducts. 

Just a little longer, You try and tell yourself as circulation comes back to your arms. Shadows dance behind your vision, people moving by you and circling like wolves. Your limbs want to writhe back and forth, help make the needle-like stippling in your nerves go away if only for a millisecond. It was a battle of will. Move or don’t. Be a Ghost, or be helpless.

Well, when you put it like that…

A hand grabs your shoulder just as you clock the two others standing behind you, waiting silently for any signs of life. The gloved hand moves to the pulse point on your neck, heavy fingers digging into the sensitive flesh. One breath. Two.

And then you jerk up and headbutt one of the soldiers right in the nose. Pushing back the black dots that nearly swallow you whole your hands rip out of the lost chains and throw your body at the man. Grabbing his shoulders, curses and sharp barks fly out over the air, and just before the bullets from their guns rip through you, your broken figure twists to shove the man in front of you. 

Shots make your ears ring, but the spray of blood comes from the Federation soldier you used as a human shield, screams playing in your head like a symphony. Quicker than a switch, you grab the pistol strapped to the now dead man’s waist, and the minute the body ahead of you stumbles and hits the floor, you fire. 

The twin soldiers drop like flies, and the recoil of the gun leaves your weak hand flying back. Clattering to the floor, the weapon stays stationary as you pant and gasp down deep breaths. Blood stains the floor as well as the chains still on the cracked ground, and the vile substance flows from the three men that release death rattles. 

Your shattered mind thinks of a snake’s hiss before the sound divulges into a deep gurgling as you stare with blank eyes. Their forms twitch and jerk, brain dying or already dead.

But there was a spark of pride in you that stayed as your hands slap to the floor, pushing your body up with muffled wails and gritted teeth. You shimmy up to your feet and grab the gun on the way up, looking around as you stumble before righting your shaky legs. 

Looking around dumbly your limp arm pulses, and your mind runs so fast the festering wound on your head feels like cigarettes are being put out on it. 

Someone had to have heard those shots, You reason, and gasp as you walk forward. Your bones don’t feel right. They aren’t supposed to move like that – like they were just floating inside of you not attached to anything. 

Blinking rapidly, your vision blurs as the first shouts spring up from outside. 

Gotta move, Limping heavily you go as fast as you’re able to the warehouse doors, pushing on the metal as sweat falls down your nose.

Your body aches, muscles constantly tightening and then loosening within seconds of each other. It was getting increasingly harder to push back the need to scream in agony as the adrenaline in you seemed to disappear. Taking to breathing out of your mouth to help out your broken nose, you nearly fall onto your face as you shimmy out into the dirt perimeter surrounding the building. 

First, you see the town. Your eyes widen, focus suddenly less on yourself as you take in a sheen of smoke rising up. The raging shouts hadn’t been coming from Federation men rushing to the warehouse – in fact, they were rushing past it. People zip from the corner of your eyes into the treeline, abandoning the houses and buildings with screams of, fantasmas, fresh in the burning air.

Ghosts.

“They came back for me?” Rough and broken, your voice makes you flinch when you finally hear it. Your vocal cords were damaged. 

And they torched the whole fucking place! The gun is like iron in your grasp, heavy and cold. Or maybe it was your hands that were the cold ones? You couldn’t tell, but as you lean back into the metal of the warehouse exterior you smirk, blood breaking out from your chapped lips.

Vision once more peeling out, you drop the pistol and slide down, mind floating far above your form and doing jumping-jacks in the clouds. You don’t know how long you’re slumped like that, neck compressed against your chest as your lungs fight for air, but the next thing you remember is panicked shouting.

“--Found her! Warehouse! Blue Jay, open your eyes!” Your eyebrows furrow as strong hands grip you tight, manhandling your body to the ground so you’re laying on your back, “Open your damn eyes, Kid!”

There’s a sound of frantic breathing before the tearing of velcro. Pressure is put on your shoulder. 

“Ah!” You scream, bearing your teeth and raging at the sensation of firm hands and an unrelenting weight.

“That’s right,” The smooth voice says, “Keep responding, keep making noise for me.”

“Kee?” You ask, only able to half-open your eyes and call out his nickname that you had never actually used aloud before. If possible, the weight is ramped up ten-fold, and you have to wonder if the Ghost is putting a knee up on you to try and stop the bleeding. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Keegan grunts, and his body comes into view as your eyes clear, though one is more muddled than the other; like a body of water filled with mud. Afternoon light shines off the man’s combat vest and back attire, his signature balaclava looking like it had been messed with and run over with rough hands. His black face paint is patchy and in places streaked. Keegan looked tired, you numbly realized as a chill made you shiver, “Look at me.” 

You were. 

His eyes snap to meet yours, and you’re taken aback by the creases around them; the wrinkles straining his forehead and nose bridge. The color is darker as well, no longer a calm and blank blue but a fiery shade, burning and boiling water. They flash when they already see you looking at him, and his high-hackled shoulders minutely lower as they soften to give you that look that you love. You pray only you’re privy to that look because it makes your shaking hands heat up.

“You have reall–really pretty eyes,” You whisper, voice cutting out, “You know that?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” He says, eyes flickering away and scanning your body. Behind the fabric you see his lips pull back in a soundless snarl, “But If you think they’re so pretty you’ll have to trouble keepin’ yours locked on ‘em, right?”

You can’t laugh, so the small exhalation from your mouth will have to do. Your eyelids flicker.

“Hey,” Keegan’s hand goes to your cheek, jostling your head so hard you groan, “The hell did I just tell you, Blue?”

“...Hurts,” You whimper, tears gathering as your lips twitch. 

You can only do so much to push back the inevitable, and every breath feels like someone’s shoving your chest into a table saw. 

Keegan moves one hand from your shoulder and sets it on your cheek, tilting your head to the side, “I know it hurts, Blue, but you gotta keep lookn’ at me, okay? You’re doing good.” 

It was the softest you had ever heard him speak. His finger brushes your undereye and makes your eyelashes flutter open.

“There she is,” He grunts, and with a start, you see he’s pushed up his face covering, the fabric a bundle on top of his head. Your face heats at his handsome visage, roaming his lips and cheekbones, “there’s my girl.”

“I didn’t know if you were going to,” Fluid pools in the back of your mouth, and you cough before you can continue, sprinkles of phlegm and blood spraying Keegan’s attire. He doesn’t seem to care, “come back for me,” Uttering the words weakly, you feel yourself speak as if separate from your own body, a willing participant watching just beyond the way of sight. 

Keegan’s eyes narrow, face pulling closer unconsciously as if he were trying to shield you with his body from the gunfire far off behind him. Across the field, familiar voices had started to ring out.

“Why the hell would you think that? What kind of dumbass made you–” He stops when your eyes sneak away in shame, numb lips pulling down as tears make your sclera red. A pause ensues before a deep sigh falls from his lips; Keegan taps his thumb on your cheek until you look back at him. His face is tense, but a blatant surety is in his tone, “I would never leave you behind. If you had trouble figuring all that out until now, then you don’t anymore. Got it?” 

“Copy, Sarge,” Your eyebrows soften, body going slack and loose. Keegan’s hand is so warm, “You know...I really would have liked to go out on a date with you.” 

Eyes going out of focus, your head lulls before Keegan can rip you back to the present with his deep words just as the ground reverberates under you. They say the sense of hearing is the last to go, and that rings true, because the last thing you remember is Keegan’s voice yelling your name so gutturally that you almost miss Merrick’s voice. 

“Blue! Shit, Elias, we need Med Evac down here, now! She’s down!”

—

The Med Ward was just how you remembered it, but the man sitting in the chair near the window was new. You were no stranger to the alcoholic scent of the rooms, the blinding overhead lights, and the coarse bed sheets. Around your body, the tight bindings restricted you from sitting up and walking, so for upwards of ten minutes you had stared at Keegan’s figure. 

He was sleeping, in nothing more than a black T-shirt and cargo pants. His head was tilted to the side and his arms crossed over his chest; legs out and crossed at the ankles as his combat boots rest on the tile. You should wake him up. You should, but you haven’t and probably won't. Keegan’s dark hair is glowing in an early morning light, making it glow amber and cover him like a halo. 

The pillow under your head is hard, uncomfortable, and stinks of bleach, but instead of worrying about it, your mind was running over what you had said before you passed out.

“You know...I really would have liked to go out on a date with you.”

Fuck me, Cheeks heating, your eyes flicker down his body, catching his veiny arms and watching his chest steadily rise and fall. Had you really said that? 

Your head begins to hurt, and not only from the tight bindings and the gauze pad around it. 

“You’re staring, Little Blue.” Gasping, your eyes widen in their sockets at the sleep-dipped tone. 

Keegan’s eyes slide open fluidly as if he were never asleep in the first place. His head moves to right itself and stare directly at you, blinking slowly. Locking gazes, you freeze as your jaw goes slack – it was a good thing you were on pain meds because otherwise, your ribs would be aching at the way your breath halted. Stuttering, you let the room lapse into silence as he watches you. Keegan’s lips flicker into a smirk. 

Standing he stalks over to you and drags the chair behind him. Getting about a foot or two away, he stops and flips the chair forward carefully before sitting down once more. Keegan leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees as you watch. 

“...You feeln’ alright? Need me to get the nurse?” He has black and blue under his eyes, colored iris’ strained. Keegan was a man of few words – his actions always spoke louder; like how he let you keep his knife, or told you to go to bed when you were up late shooting. 

At that moment the cold Ghost’s hand went to your arm, lightly brushing over the bandages and pauses to see if you register any pain. When he doesn’t see any discomfort, he settles his grip and runs his fingers over your skin. 

You blink. 

“I’m good.” The words come out breathlessly, and where his touch continues to rove, sparks light under the skin.

Keegan’s soft sigh enters the cold air, and his gaze flickers to the floor for a moment. His jaw clenches, like there was something in his head that refused to come out of his lips. The man’s scream still haunted you – how he yelled your name so raw and vulnerable. You had never heard something like that from him, not even when he had to have you stitch him up one time during a mission.

I’m never letting you anywhere a needle again, He had said with his face flushed of color. You really were bad at sutures. 

Smiling to yourself, you lift your hand with every bit of cotton sticking to your brain and shimmy it out of his delicate grip. Not wanting to hurt you he pulls back and looks with wide eyes at what you were doing. 

“Kid, I don’t–” His comment is halted when your fingers graze his cheek, just the tiniest hint of stubble making your fingers itch perfectly. Freezing like a bird, Keegan’s sights are set on you, confusion bleeding into this expression as his lips pull into a line. 

This was stepping a line you hadn’t crossed before, but you didn’t really care all that much. 

Caressing his jaw, your hand cradles his face. To your surprise, Keegan leaned into you, tension leaving and body going slack like putty in your grip; a second later, his hand comes and encompasses your own, molten heat radiating into your bloodstream. Your heart skips a beat when his eyelashes flutter closed. 

“Tired?” You ask, slightly amused.

“No,” Keegan grumbles, face blank, and you flinch as a laugh barks from your lips. Not a good idea. Weaving his fingers so he can grip your hand more tightly, he peels you from his face and opens his eyes. 

Watching you and clocking your emotions, he lays your hand to his lips and lays a gentle kiss, lips moving over your skin as he places another right after. You’re surprised you don’t catch on fire – especially with that look on his face.

How could a man so cold be as gentle as he was with you?

“You worried the boys,” He says when he pulls back but still holds your hand close, “Ajax nearly strangled Elias to get him to hurry up and go after you.” 

Smirking, you hum, “And you? Were you worried, Kee?” Teasing with the nickname, you watch as a small smile forms over his face, eyes lingering so beautifully on your visage.

“No,” You raise a brow at the bare answer, but he wasn’t done, “I was damn near terrified.” Licking your lips, you watch him track the motion, and he rises and leans closer to you, “What gave you the right to make me feel like that, Kid,” His breath fans over your cheeks, and your eyes flutter when his nose caresses your own. You can feel his eyes bore into you, unrelenting as they look over every pore and mark. 

Keegan’s lips whisper over yours. 

Yes, Your mind sings at the contact, and a small whimper falls into the air. 

“...Who gave you the right to make me want to be yours?” All but growling the words out, his lips descend onto yours, firm but still gentle. He would never hurt you, even if he wanted to feel you against him. You were injured, and that reality never failed to leave his head.

So for now, he would kiss you as if you were the most delicate of glass; worship your skin and bestow on it everything he couldn’t say. 

As you both move together, his hands come up and grab at your jaw as your own travel to rest on his chest that looms over your own, mapping out the dip of his muscles and the way he shivers when your nails rake into the fabric of his shirt. 

This was what you had wanted, to feel him move over you and flex as your fingers go to grip at his hair. 

Pulling back, the man pants in breath with you, lips were swollen. It was quite the sight, and you swore you felt your pupils dilate just by staring at him. Keegan hums deep in his chest and then places his forehead gently to your own – careful of the bandages and, most likely, stitches that live under there.

“I lost your knife,” You whisper out, and almost cringe at the needy tone of your voice. Were you really this infatuated with the man? …You already knew the answer to that question.

“Don’t worry about it,” Keegan grunts, and keeps the knowledge of the fact that the blade was already paced back in your room by his own hands to himself, “I’ll make sure you pay for it when you’re well enough to be discharged. Can’t have my Blue Jay leaving weapons behind, now can we?”

It’s safe to say you prayed for a speedy recovery, just like how poets of days long past wished for a gentle rain or mist-filled morning – if only to have something to quietly worship. 

[keen-li]

POPSTAR | jjk

18+

oneshot

synopsis: Struggling artist Jungkook, who wants to be the biggest pop star, faces a dilemma when you come into the picture pregnant with his child: ruin his life or ruin his life. Which does he pick?

idol Jungkook x pr assistant reader.

warning (1): pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage or pregnany loss, degrading, mentions of sex.

warning (2): this story does not reflect what I think of Jungkook or his music, I don't own Jungkook, his concept, music or anyone else and are merely using their names.

songs: maria by Justin Bieber, billie jean by Micheal Jackson, the whole golden album by Jung kook but mainly, hate you, somebody, too sad to dance, shot glass of tears.

A/n (1): listening to hate you, somebody, too sad to dance, shot glass of tears, hits different for me, after writing this story.😭

A/n (2): I just wanted to get something out of for you guys and since some find pregnancy scary consider this my late Halloween gift.😂

wc: 8.3k words

[read under cut]

༻❁༺𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆, 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏?༻❁༺

A scandal can make or break a pop star.

But if you handle it well, it can make you the biggest pop star and a hit song. Topping charts, starting a trend, leaving a legacy. Who doesn’t want that? Especially in a society that feeds on drama. It’s a guaranteed exposure. Everybody loves a good scandal, even better if it feeds on the downfall or action.

All the pop stars who’ve gone on to be big and legendary have done it. Michael Jackson with Billie Jean, Justin Bieber with Maria. Who is Jeon Jungkook to be an exception?

It’s like a ritual. If it happens to you, then you are guaranteed a spot at the top of the charts and awards. And that’s all Jungkook has ever wanted.

Being in the industry for a while with no breakout but recognition, it's getting frustrating. He knows he's got the talent, got the skill, got the looks. So he knows he can do it. Everybody tells him the same.

It’s not like he's a complete nobody. He has a good fanbase, but he wants to be more than just a popular local artist. He wants to be a global star. And what better time than this? At least that’s what his team says.

“Holy shit, Kook, you’re gonna be a star.”

“This is gonna get you on Jimmy Fallon, SNL, fuck... I need to prep your statements.”

In the studio at the final listening of the song, everybody congratulates him on a song they aren’t sure will succeed just yet. He better succeed with this; too much is at risk for all this to fail.

“Can’t believe that girl’s trying to baby trap you.” Everyone in the studio laughs, all except him and his sound engineer, Yoongi.

“Once we get the DNA test, we’ll know for sure... crazy bitch.”

At that, Jungkook lifts his head, not knowing whether to defend you or let it go. There’s no point in any of it.

“You okay, golden boy?”

Golden boy? That’s new. Yoongi teasing him too is weird; he rarely talks to the guy.

Jungkook forces a smile.

“I’m okay, just taking in everything.”

Yoongi nods, seeing through Jungkook, seeing everything everybody is ignoring. Fear, want, guilt. Guilt.

“This is gonna make you big, Kook.” Hyun-min, his manager, says holding his shoulder. Then he leans in to be by his ear. “It’s not your kid, Kook, it’s gonna be fine. Right?”

People only like you after a scandal if it’s not true, or you deny it real hard to the point of making people believe it's fake. And Jungkook can only do one of those. And either way, he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.

“Right.”

—

It all started when Jungkook invited you to a company party. He knew you didn’t like to go out much, but he promised he’d be there with you.

“Plus, your divorce just got finalized, right? Let’s go have fun and celebrate.”

It isn’t much to celebrate, but you did end up going. And it was just like you imagined: too many drunk people, loud music. Everywhere was uncomfortable to be at. Jungkook, seeing that, suggested you go to one of the studios he had a key for, and once in, he locked the door. No evil intentions, just to make sure no one came in and got the wrong idea.

Till this day, you don’t know whether to regret going to that party or be glad, 'cause the decision has brought you the best and worst.

“How’s work?” you ask once you settle in the producer chairs. You’ve wanted to sit in these for a while; turns out it’s nothing special.

“Could be better, but it’s alright.” He says, man-spreading on the couch and smiling as he watches you twirl in the chair. “Still working on the album.”

You twirl. “Can’t wait to hear.”

“Don’t know if you will.” You raise a brow. “I’m not really proud of it.”

“Why? You’re so good.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “It’s not that.” He sighs, trying to find the best way to say it. “They’re all just lifeless. No soul.”

You stop your chair to face him. “Kook...”

“I’m gonna tell Hyun-min to pause with the release.” He leans back, rubbing his face, and you catch a glimpse of his boxer band when his shirt lifts. You ignore it. “I need to go on hiatus.”

You frown when he says that.

All the time you’ve worked for Jungkook as a PR assistant, you’ve known him to be so hardworking he rarely took a break. And those sleepless nights are finally catching up to him now. And honestly, you do agree that he needs a break, and you’re excited to see him want it too.

Only thing worrying you is the sense of giving up you feel. You don’t believe he would, but seeing how many years he's worked hard and hasn’t made a hit song, you get the desire to.

Getting into the industry, you’ve realized that music becomes more than just making what you love. You have to make music that will keep funding your endeavours, that will show the company you aren’t a waste of investment.

“They’re saying if I don’t make a hit, I’m gonna be let go and owe them a bunch of money.”

“Oh my gosh, Kook...” you move to sit next to him, placing a comforting hand on his thigh.

“I don’t even know what I’d do if that happens. I just need a break to get myself together.”

“Yeah, you really do...” you just watch him, and eventually he opens his eyes to meet yours, and they stay like that.

“You’re the only fun person here.”

You chuckle. “You’re just talking.”

He laughs, and silence falls for a minute. In that silence, you both stare at each other, and you can’t help but think, what the hell are you doing so close to him? So you try to pull away, but he holds you at your wrist.

“Don’t go, I really need to be distracted right now.” His voice is low and lazy. You’ve never heard something so sexy.

Not knowing what to do, you just release an awkward laugh. “And how am I—” before you go on, he gets a call.

“Hey, Hyun-min.” He says. “I’m in the studio.”

“During a party? You better be making hits.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you laugh.

“You alone? —No, no—laugh—don’t tell me I want to sit in those chairs in peace.” Jungkook doesn’t say anything and lets the older man talk to himself.

Eventually the call ends, and Jungkook’s back to staring at you.

“You’re gorgeous, do you know that?”

“Jungkook, please.”

“Didn’t want to tell you 'cause you had a husband.”

“Not a home wrecker, huh?” You both laugh.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

You stare at each other, the air getting thicker by the second, and it gets thicker when he sits up, cups your cheeks, and leans in too close to your face.

“Can I kiss you?” He wasn’t sure if it was the right moment to do it, but had to try.

Maybe you should’ve pulled away and walked away.

But no, instead you leaned in and let him kiss you. And Jungkook wasn’t a half-job kind of guy. He had to have the full experience, and you let him. You wanted him to.

So from kissing on the couch to the wall, to stripping your bottoms and riding him and him having you on your back and fucking you till you both came, you did it all and tried it all. And you enjoyed every second of it.

That was until the door opened as you were getting dressed.

Hyun-min stared at you like a dirty rag. He stared at both of you like that. He didn’t say anything though, just watched you walk out hurriedly.

“While you’re here, I need to talk to you.” Jungkook says, collecting himself.

Hyun-min shuts the door. “Better be a new song idea.”

“Not quite.” The man doesn’t look happy to hear that, but he stays silent and listens. “I wanna delay the album release and take a hiatus.”

He knew the idea wouldn’t be received well.

“Delay?”

“Yeah, we need to scrap the whole thing actually. I hate the songs.”

“Are you insane? We need to get out music.”

“What’s the point if it’s shit.”

One thing Hyun-min couldn’t deny was that the album was shit. It lacked soul, lacked star power, and if Jungkook did release it, he would be more of a nobody than he was the day before.

So to scrap the whole thing and take a hiatus is what was done.

3 months.

During the first week of it, Jungkook called you every single day. He liked you. You were cool, and you liked him too, nothing you wanted to explore though. He was too fast for the kind of life you wanted to live.

All you’ve wanted in your life was to get married, settle down with a man, and have children. All you’ve ever asked for. And it's definitely not something Jungkook would do. He wants to be a star and stars do everything but settle down and relax.

But to be fair, you weren’t gonna have that life with anyone anyways.

“Are you feeling better today?” you laugh at the fact that he even remembers.

“Shouldn’t you be thinking of music, not talking to me every day?”

“You’re my inspiration.” You can hear that cheeky smile, and you can’t help but smile. It’s weird to imagine you being someone’s muse. You’re so boring. “Did you drink my soup like I said?”

You nod, and when you realize he won’t see it, you respond. “Yeah, but I still feel sick. Must be a stronger bug.”

Jungkook hums, getting worried. “You should’ve felt better either way; it always worked when my mom made it. Maybe I should get my mom to make it for you.”

“Meeting the parents already? Buy me dinner first.”

You both laugh.

It was fun between the two of you. Nothing was taken seriously, and nothing was expected.

The following weeks, you never felt any better. It got worse actually, the more you drank the soup.

“Try drinking it again.” You scrunch your face in disgust when your friend brings the bowl close to you. The smell of it making you want to puke.

You lean back into the couch. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep anything down.”

“Maybe we should go to the hospital.”

You do feel like shit, that’s for sure, but hearing someone suggest the hospital makes it feel too dramatic.

“I’ll be fine, Sohee.” You sit up, and the nausea returns, so you sit back. “I just need to rest.” With how sick you feel, you’re so glad Jungkook’s on a break too, 'cause you would die if you had to work in this condition.

For the 100th time in the day, your head is tucked into the toilet as you let out everything Sohee offered you, even the water.

“Yn, you look like shit, and I don’t like it.” Sohee says, concern written in every font on her face.

“I’m fin—” before you can even get words out, the puke leaves instead. “I’m not fine.”

You finally confess, and the waterworks begin. “What the hell is wrong with me? Am I fucking dying?”

“We need to get you to the hospital.”

On the way to the hospital, Jungkook calls you. “Hospital? Are you okay? Should I come?” You laugh at his concern. Well, you try to.

“I’m gonna be fine; you don’t have to come. They’ll probably just give me meds, and I’ll be all better.”

“I can still be there for moral support.”

He's so persistent. It’s a shame he wants to be a star; he would make such a great husband.

“I’ll be fine; I have my friend with me.”

Jungkook can’t argue much after that. You reassure him it’s nothing serious and you’ll be fine, and he relaxes as much as he can.

“Call me when you’re done, okay?”

You hum yes, and eventually end the call. You can feel your friend smile next to you, so you turn.

“What?” you ask.

“I can’t believe you have Jungkook calling your phone and worrying about you.”

Ah—you forget that he's famous and one of the most swooned-for guys.

“Yeah, just a boss worrying about a worker.” Sohee is your best friend, and you’ve told her a lot, but you just can’t bring yourself to telling her you slept with Jungkook. Multiple times.

“Didn’t sound like that.” You can’t and won’t argue. “Can you get me to meet him?”

—

The hospital smells sterile and like antiseptic; it all feels so clean you’re afraid to step anywhere unless necessary.

Cold air fills your lungs as you wait. You have no clue why it feels embarrassing to be sick, but it does. It feels like everyone around you is watching and shaming you for coming to the hospital. Especially seeing people who are clearly worse than you are.

“How long can getting an ibuprofen prescription be?” You mumble. Sohee sat next to you, waiting as well.

“Ibuprofen? Are you insane? You need something way stronger. Have you seen yourself?”

How bad do you look? Can’t be that ba—

“Yn Y/L/N.” A nurse calls out in the middle of your thoughts, and your heart leaps.

“Here.” You raise your hand.

“Come this way.”

Come this way? Shouldn’t she just give you the slip from the doctor and you should be on your way?

Anyway. “I’ll be back.” You tell Sohee.

“I’ll be here.”

Walking behind the nurse, you follow her to the doctor’s office, and in there you find the woman and sit.

“How are you?” she asks.

“Seeing that I’m here, I can’t be that well.” You joke, and she laughs. “I’m good.”

A silence falls, the room only being filled with the sound of her flipping through papers.

“We got your test back for your sample.” You nod, listening to her. “We didn’t find anything in your other sample, but your urine sample.” She says and pulls out a slip of paper, handing it to you.

You look at it, not really reading. You don’t understand any of it anyways. You look up at her. “And what’s the issue?” What’s all the fuss for an ibuprofen?

The doctor stutters a bit, expecting you to have caught on from the paper. But when she sees you haven’t, she says.

“Ms. Yn, you’re pregnant.”

And like a flood, everything comes back to you. You look back at the paper and finally read it. You’ve seen this many times; how did you not notice what it would be about?

Pregnant.

The paper said, and you feel weaker than you have ever have. It’s not possible. How?

“Are you okay?”

“Are you sure this is correct?”

“The test isn’t 100%, but it’s pretty accurate. If you want, we can do an ultrasound, but you’re only two weeks along, so not much would come up.”

You shake your head as tears flood your eyes. “I-it’s not possible though.” You chant to yourself. “I’m barren, I-I—”

The biggest reason your marriage ended was because you weren’t able to have children. You tried every single thing you could; you spent too much money on it too. Your husband was fine, so it was clearly a you problem. And he didn’t want to be with a woman who couldn’t give him that, so you split.

And you lived with it, lived with the notion that you will never be able to have children.

So looking at this paper... it has to be a lie. You cry. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, and you hate to get caught up in the emotions and later find out it was a false positive. But it’s the hospital; no way they have false positives.

With teary eyes, you look up at the doctor. “Am I really pregnant?”

The doctor nods. “In a month, you can come in for an ultrasound to be sure, that if you want to keep it.” She’s watching you and offers you a tissue. “Sometimes women aren’t able to get pregnant 'cause of stress, or the body rejects the sperm.”

You sigh.

Fuck, you’re really pregnant. You’re... wait... Jungkook. You slept with him the same time she said... fuck.

—

Crying into your hands and Sohee rubbing your back, you can’t help but think of what the hell is going on.

“He’s got some fucking golden sperm, huh?” Sohee goes in, forgetting she’s talking out loud. “One time and you’re already pregnant. Your ex tried bu—”

You cut her off. “Can you stop? I’m trying to think.”

After a bit more tears, you collect yourself and breathe.

“I have to tell him, right?”

Sohee is silent for a second, thinking as well. “Yes, but you don’t have to do it tonight.”

Fuck. You rub your face.

“I have to do it tonight, or I won’t ever.” That’s not possible; he’d eventually find out. Knowing Jungkook, he’d be at your door if you ignored him too much.

Before you can think further, your phone rings.

“Speak of the devil.” Sohee mumbles.

You thought you could do it, but no, you can’t. Instead, you let the phone ring until it doesn’t, and when it rings for a 4th time, you do the same. Sohee just watches, doesn’t push you to do anything.

He wants to be famous, wants to be a world-touring pop star, that’s not someone who wants to be told he’s gonna be a father. That could ruin him if it got out. Fuck. What is wrong with you? And in all of that, you still feel the flowers bloom in your heart when you think about the baby growing in you.

Jungkook: You’re ignoring me? Ouch!!

A call you can avoid and say you were busy, but a text is harder to, especially when he can see that you’ve already read it.

You: Sorry, got busy with somethings.

You: How’s the music thing going?

Jungkook: Honestly, I want to quit. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Why your heart jumps at the idea, you don’t know. Maybe it’s 'cause him quitting would mean a greater chance to have that life, have this baby with him.

Jungkook: Just kidding, I can’t quit. Worked too hard for this shit.

You laugh to yourself. What the hell are you thinking? Of course he’d never quit; you know that.

You: I’m glad.

All of a sudden, talking to him is a lot more awkward when hanging on to this secret.

Jungkook: Are you feeling better?

You: Yeah, weirdly enough. I told you I only had to rest.

Jungkook: You know your body best.

Even through text, you can feel the awkward silence of the conversation. What do you say next?

Jungkook: I’m at the studio right now, but I can drop by after. Anything you want.

No, no, no. Not drop-bys; he can’t see you now or ever.

You: No, I’m good. I won’t be home today anyways.

You: Going to Sohee’s.

You say before he even asks.

Jungkook: I can still drive you there.

Jungkook: Just want to see you for a bit, even 10 minutes.

10 minutes of nothing but fucking, but even though you’d want that, you can’t. You wouldn’t enjoy it.

You: No, it’s okay. Just focus on your creativity.

You: Gotta keep up that pop star image.

Jungkook: Always glad to have you to keep me in check.

You: Glad to be here.

Jungkook: Talk to you later then.

Now, now, now, now, now.

You: Btw, I’m pregnant.

You: And it’s most likely yours.

—

It’s been a week, and Jungkook hasn’t responded yet. You aren’t sure if you’re happy or upset by it. Well, at least he knows.

That day.

“I’m not here for long, just came to play around.” Jungkook says when Hyun-min questions why he's leaving.

The man sits on the couch next to Jungkook’s phone, which had just dinged, and not being able to stop himself, he looked.

Yn (PR): Btw, I’m pregnant.

Yn (PR): And it’s most likely yours.

Hyun-min knew what this meant and what needed to be done, but fuck, this is a lot of work.

You’re fired, that’s for sure. And for Jungkook, this could either ruin him or... honestly, this is gonna fuck his career so bad.

Jungkook takes his phone and before he can even open it to read the message, his manager speaks.

“Do you want to be a father?”

Jungkook laughs. His manager sounds so stupid right now. “Yeah, babies are cute.”

Hyun-min laughs. “And right now, do you want a child?”

“What the hell are you even asking me right now?” Jungkook laughs. “You sound ridiculous.”

Hyun-min lets out a bitter laugh.

“Of course I don’t want kids now. I want to be stable before that.”

“BINGO!!” Hyun-min lets out, startling Jungkook a little. “So if you don’t want kids right now, you have to fuck girls with a what?” He asks in a childish, mocking tone, and Jungkook starts to get a little annoyed. It’s only them in the studio, so Hyun-min yells all he wants. “You have to fuck girls with a condom. Or don’t fuck them at all.”

Jungkook still doesn’t get it, but what he does get are flashbacks to you, right on the spot where Hyun-min yells at him from—pussy laid out as he fucked you raw.

“Check your phone.”

Jungkook does, and his heart drops immediately.

You’re pregnant.

Hyun-min lets out a laugh in Jungkook’s face. “Did she sign an NDA?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to, he’s embarrassed to, but he never thought anything like this would be necessary 'cause he never thought anything like this would happen. You work in PR, so you should know what this would do to him. Surely you wouldn’t let this leak.

He’s not ready to be a dad.

“Fuck, Kook, what the hell were you thinking?”

Jungkook hasn’t thought much of late; only thing he can think of is that his music sucks and he needs to fix it. But now, this...

“Fix it. And tell her HR’s gonna fire her anyways, so she shouldn’t come in.”

—

“It’s kinda weird though...” you start pacing Sohee’s kitchen. “He should have at least texted something, anything. I just need to hear something from him.”

The pan sizzles as Sohee adds some water to the vegetables on you. She goes on to add spices, and you feel like you can smell every single herb used.

“Do you want him to be in its life?”

You freeze. You’ve thought about it on the lines of the facts, but you haven’t really asked yourself if you could, if you’d want Jungkook in its life.

You’ve always wanted a partner so the child can grow with both of you, and so that you can have somebody 'cause you know pregnancy is one hell of a journey.

You would want Jungkook in the child’s life.

“I mean—” before you can finish, your phone dings, and when you check it this time, it’s not some random social media notification. It’s a text. A text from Jungkook.

You open it.

Jungkook: Are you keeping it?

You freeze. No hi, no hello, no how are you. The text is just dead. And you can feel it.

Jungkook: Are you sure it’s mine?

“Fuck, just ignore him; don’t respond.” Sohee says angrily. And you get her; you’re angry too. Is this all he says after all this? After ignoring you.

You: Haven’t slept with my ex for a year, and you were the first I slept with after the divorce.

You: So it’s yours. I’m sure.

You hate that you have to explain yourself. You don’t dare explain your difficulty in conceiving and how you just suddenly got pregnant for him. He doesn’t need to know that, and from the energy, you just know he won’t care. Like the Jungkook you thought would care.

You: We fucked raw too, so...

Jungkook: Okay.

Jungkook: So are you keeping it?

You’ve thought about it? Would it be worth it to have a baby for someone who probably doesn’t want you to? Someone who wants to live the fast life. If you did, then your child would not have a dad, unless otherwise. But again, if you aborted this baby, what are the odds you’d get lucky and get pregnant again?

This biology thing is frustrating. You can swear your doctors said you would never be able to have a child, but here you are.

During your early days, you did get pregnant, but God forbid the child reach 6 weeks. So after so many struggles with your uterus, it eventually gave up, and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t get pregnant.

This is all you’ve ever wanted. How can you give this up?

You: Do you want me to keep it?

Jungkook slouches his back. What the hell does he want?

Jungkook: Just answer the question.

His text stings your heart, your eyes too, but you wipe them. This isn’t good for the baby.

Instead, with all the confidence you can fathom, you text back.

You: I’m keeping it.

It’s quiet for some time. It’s always quiet when texting someone, but the silence from him is loud.

Jungkook: Is that what you want?

You’ve thought about so much that the answer is second nature.

You: Yes.

His text comes in instantly, like he had it written out already.

Jungkook: Good.

Jungkook: I’m happy for you.

He’s what?

You: That’s it??

Jungkook: The company’s threatening me.

Your heart freezes. Fuck. Is this because you’re pregnant? How do they even know?

Jungkook: They’re saying if I don’t drop a hit, they’ll cut me.

Jungkook: Bringing much money to them so keeping me will be more of a loss than cutting me.

You: Shit, I’m sorry, Kook.

Now you feel like an ass for all this.

Jungkook: It’s okay. Only over a decade of my life will be to waste.

What do you even say? How do you even address the elephant in the room? Well, maybe if he gets let go, he can’t be a father to the child. He doesn’t seem so upset by it.

You: It’s gonna be okay.

You hope he catches the double meaning to that.

Jungkook: I hope.

“Fucking hell, Jungkook, what now?” Hyun-min seems to get angrier about all this the more he sees Jungkook. “This isn’t gonna be okay. Who the hell do you think wants to support an idol who’s got kids? For fuck’s sake, you’re almost 30. You’re fucking with your luck. You’ve actually fucked it.” He shakes his head, mumbling something about Jungkook being lucky he’s attractive and fit, and that’s the only thing keeping him popular-ish.

It stings.

“It’s fine. Yn isn’t that type of person. She won’t say a thing.”

He lets out a mocking laugh. “You don’t know women, do you?” Jungkook doesn’t answer the question 'cause he doesn’t need to know women; he needs to know you. And he does. Probably. “She could sense you were going to be a star—if you’d dropped your album—and she wanted a reason to latch onto you.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“But it’s fine. You aren’t gonna be shit now. At least I can focus on other people.”

“Why do you even come to the studio sessions, Hyun-min?” Yoongi says before Jungkook can. Even though his manager is older, Yoongi doesn’t really care; this is his studio anyways. He’s doing Jungkook and the company a favour. Plus, he’s told him this before.

“Whatever. Go ahead and produce nothing as usual.” Hyun-min mocks, but Yoongi’s eyes stay on his computer, not turning once. The man turns to leave, but before he does, he adds, “I sent her an NDA. Get her to sign it, or this thing’s done.”

Jungkook almost leaps at the man from his seat. Why the hell would he do that??

And like clockwork, he gets a text.

You: An NDA? Really?

You: Should’ve guessed.

He can’t respond. What does he even say?

“He sent you a fucking NDA??” Sohee shouts in shock. You don’t say anything; haven’t said anything in a minute. Mainly because you’re waiting for your friend who’s a practicing lawyer to read it and tell you what the hell to do. “He’s a bitch. To think I bought his freaking album. Ugh...”

You rub your sort-of-existing belly while waiting for Jimin to finish. Stress isn’t good for you in these trying times. You really don’t want to lose this baby.

“They’re trying to shut you up real bad.” Jimin says, lifting his eyes off the paper. You all watch him anxiously. “Like 100% silence. They want Jungkook nowhere near the baby’s documents. You literally erase the idea that the child had a father.”

“It’s fine. I don’t want him anywhere near anyways.” If he’s gonna act like this anyways, what’s the point of him being part of the child’s life?

“Don’t rush, Yn.” Jimin says, watching you get aggravated. Sohee rubs your shoulders with a pout of sympathy. “It’s for the rest of the child’s life.”

Your eyes widen. “Is that even legal?”

“Sounds like bullshit.” Sohee announces.

“If you sign, then it is.”

You honestly would hate to take it there. If he doesn’t want to be in the child’s life, then it’s fine. You’ll manage. You’ll get a job soon and earn from there.

You aren’t gonna make this difficult.

Jungkook: Good. Don’t sign it.

You: I don’t get it. You want me to sign it or what?

Jungkook: Hyun-min sent it without letting me know.

You: And you don’t want me to sign it?

Jungkook: No.

You don’t respond. Mainly 'cause you’re too afraid to ask. But he does anyways.

Jungkook: I’ve always wanted a kid, Yn. Though this may not be ideal, it must mean something right? This child must mean something.

Honestly, you’d been thinking the same, and hearing Jungkook say it gives you hope.

Jungkook: And seeing I’m gonna get fired anyways, I might as well pick another life path.

You: We sound like second options.

You don’t see it, but Jungkook laughs.

Jungkook: You’re an option that’s for sure.

Hyun-min’s on Jungkook’s neck for the nth time in the studio. And this was supposed to be his hiatus; he’s gonna need a hiatus from his hiatus.

“I’ll handle it.” Is all he said to the nagging man, but he’s not gonna do shit. Honestly, he thought today would be his last day, but for whatever reason, he keeps giving him chances, and Jungkook keeps taking them.

“How’s the track?” Jungkook asks, pacing behind Yoongi.

“How are you?”

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair. He’s fine.

“I’m okay, just worried about the track.”

Jungkook hums.

“A track will be a track. A good singer can make a bad track sound good, but no track can save a bad singer.”

Jungkook laughs even though he should be listening carefully.

“Are you sure you should be a producer?”

Yoongi cracks a smile. “I get more unsure by the day.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the pregnancy hormones or whatever the hell is going on with Jungkook, but you’ve been crying like a bitch of late, and what makes it worse is that you’re alone for most of it. You don’t wanna tell your family; Sohee has a life. You’re alone basically. And it sucks.

“I wish you would just fucking talk.” You say, looking at the 3-month-old fetus on the ultrasound pic.

Going to doctor appointments alone is even worse. Other women have partners or at least a friend. But nothing for you.

Just you and your healthy baby, which is all you could ask for really.

“But still, Mommy’s lonely.” You say, rubbing your belly soothingly.

“Even though life sucks for me, I’ll make sure it doesn’t for you, okay?” You wait for a response as if it’ll come.

2nd Trimester

Life is sort of back to normal for Jungkook at least. Tiny shows and interviews and appearances on YouTube channels. It’s all going okay except for the questions about his next album or song.

“When’s your next hit?” “Do you feel satisfied with where you are?” “Album when?”

The comments are even worse—ruthless. And you watch every single thing. How he stutters to answer.

“I’m working hard on it.” Is all he says.

But with nothing new that strikes the ear, it’s evident that his career is plummeting more. No invites to large events, no brand deals. Nothing. So any tiny project he gets to earn money, he does—money which doesn’t reach his pocket anyway.

It’s getting frustrating.

It’s when you’re lying in bed rubbing your growing belly when he calls.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to answer, but the text that came after you ignored his call made you pick up.

Jungkook: I need your professional help.

You sigh.

“Hi.” Is all you say, distant. The line is quiet at the other end, making you wonder if the call cut. But when you hear a sniffle, you frown.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

You can hear him breathe. “I don’t know what to do, Yn. I’m fucked.” He starts, and you just listen. “The media’s on my neck, and my fans—haters—they all fucking hate me.”

“No one hates you, Jungkook.”

“Everyone hates me. You hate me.”

You suck in a breath. Do you?

“I’m really sorry, Yn. I’m such a horrible person to you, but—but I just need some help, advice from you.”

You honestly don’t want to address whether or not you hate him, so you skip over it and give him the advice he came for.

“How are the songs coming?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing feels right. It all sucks.” He breathes out a sigh of frustration. “I feel horrible 'cause Yoongi’s such a good producer, and I keep making him work for free.”

You hum, taking it in.

“I think you should get on a collab with someone, just for the meantime, just so that fans don’t think you’re doing nothing. Maybe remix one of your older songs. Just to keep your image up.” You sound nothing but professional, and Jungkook appreciates it, but he misses just talking with you.

“Sounds good. I appreciate it.”

You nod like he could even see it. It’s silent.

And just before you can go to say goodbye, he speaks.

“How are you doing?”

You freeze, a lump forming in your neck—one of anger or anxiety.

“I’m doing okay, Jungkook. How—I’m good.” Why is it so hard to talk to him all of a sudden?

“Good.” It’s silent again. “I was wondering if I could come over tomorrow and see you.”

Your brows rise. “Come to see me?”

“Yeah, you don’t know it, but you’re the only real friend I have.”

Why are you blushing? Fuck.

“Don’t let Yoongi hear that?” You joke to break the tension.

He laughs.

“He would agree.”

It’s silent again.

“Yeah, you can come over tomorrow.”

And when he did come over, you mostly sat in silence or talked calmly. It’s so awkward now.

But something new is how gentle and sweet he is all of a sudden. He was before, but now even more.

“Can I touch it?” He asks, eyes moving from your face to your belly.

You’d seen him eyeing your belly and wondered when he would ask.

“Sure.” You say, lifting up your shirt.

When both his large, warm hands move to cup your belly, your heart aches. 'Cause it just feels right, feels like it’s meant to be, but you know it’s not gonna.

Jungkook laughs. “There’s a baby in there.” He looks up at you with those puppy doe eyes for you to confirm. And when you nod, his smile widens.

“I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t bring you anything. Your dad is broke.” You both smile, then at the same time drop it when you catch what he said.

Did he just? And did the baby just kick?

Jungkook pulls away to sit up. “I think I should let you rest and stuff.”

You nod, not wanting to disagree and seem needy for company.

“Okay.”

At the door, he says.

“I hope everything goes well.”

Not knowing what to say, you find it appropriate to just parrot him. “Hope everything goes well with you too.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You’re not sure when you’ll see him again or if you’ll ever. It’s best not to.

If he doesn’t want to be in the child’s life or isn’t sure, it’s better you don’t get attached.

Dad.

3rd Trimester

It’s a small event honestly. You don’t have that many people to invite. Just Sohee and friends you made at the company.

Your knife goes through the cake, and you try your best not to see the colour that’s on the knife.

After the second slice, you pull it up and a spurt.

It’s a girl—a baby girl. You’re gonna cry.

It’s when serving the guests food that the reality of it starts to sink in.

“Who’s the dad?” One of your colleagues asks innocently.

What do you even say? You can’t say the truth—God knows what that would bring you. So you lie.

When it’s all over, you do text Jungkook the gender. You’re not sure if you should’ve, but you do it anyways.

He doesn’t respond.

Your heart’s not broken. You’re fine.

Being in the 3rd trimester, which you never thought you’d get to, with the baby so healthy. You’ve been confident enough to post yourself on the internet. It’s not like anyone will know. Not like they can read your personal life just through the photo.

But when you wake up to many notifications, you’re confused.

That’s until you see why, and your heart sinks.

A fucking article.

“Failing star has been focusing on making babies not hits.”

What the actual fuck? When—when did this happen? Who? Who could tell?

God, you’re gonna be sick. You sit down, and then Sohee calls you.

“Yn, are you okay?”

How can you be? When everyone is speculating, stalking your social media, and connecting the dots that you worked for Jungkook and are now pregnant.

What the hell do you do? This isn’t what you wanted. You never wanted to be in the spotlight. It was never your intention.

How the hell did they get pictures of your gender reveal? Fuck.

—

“You’re a fucking moron, you know.” Hyun-min yells, and Jungkook says nothing, head in hands. “I told you she would do this. She’s not the type.” He mocks at the end. “You have no clue how women are. So now she’s trapped you, and you won’t have a career or money to even take care of the stupid kid.”

He’s right. That’s what Jungkook’s thinking. He won’t have money to take care of this child anyways. Fuck. He’s doomed either way.

How the fuck did this happen?

“Do you know who leaked it?”

Yoongi asks, and Hyun-min scoffs.

“You’re a fool too?” He turns his attention to Yoongi. “It’s Yn, of course.”

Yoongi ignores him and repeats the question to Jungkook.

“I don’t know. She had a gender party and whatever, so—I don’t know, man.”

It’s some weeks, and your due date is approaching quick, but with the way you’re feeling, you could have the baby today.

And the knock on the door is nothing that eases, and seeing who’s behind the door makes it worse.

“Hyun-min... what are you doing here?”

The old man doesn’t look like he’s here to congratulate you.

“Look, I’m not staying here too long. Just take the money and deny that the baby is Jungkook’s.” He hands you an envelope carelessly. You stare at him, then at it, and then back to him. “It’s $1,000. Jungkook’s gonna be in debt for it, so do the guy a favour and take it. I know it’s what you want.”

You freeze. “I didn’t want this or that.” You signal to the envelope. “You really think if I wanted money, I would choose Jungkook?”

That takes him aback, but his pride doesn’t allow him to be moved. “He doesn’t love you though.” He pockets the money. “The child’s gonna end up a bastard and fatherless anyways.”

“Please leave.” You demand.

He takes out another paper. “This is a court order for a DNA test.” You stare at it.

Hyun-min leaves, but he doesn’t believe you one bit. Either way, this rumour has to go away.

Stuck in your house, Jimin explains what you should do, and it’s not anything you didn’t know or was already doing anyways. But one struck a nerve.

“You have to cut Jungkook off completely. If they decide to take you to court, it can show that you really didn’t want anything from him.”

And cut him off is what you did.

He’s been vague and confusing to you, and if it’s not a yes, it’s a no. So that’s that.

It’s funny how when you ignore him, that’s when he contacts you the most.

Jungkook: Hyun-min visited you?

Jungkook: I’m sorry. I told him I would fix this.

Jungkook: Are you okay?

Jungkook: Are you ignoring me?

Jungkook: Yn, I’m fucking sorry, please.

Jungkook: Don’t ignore me.

Jungkook: I know you’re upset, and I am too. I hate myself for this too. But please don’t ignore me.

Jungkook: I want to be there for you. Please let me.

You freeze at that one, but no—he had 9 months to want to be there for you.

[blocked]

It’s been a week since you’ve been ignoring him, blocked him too. And he’s not the type to force it, so he accepts it. He can’t blame you though; he had 9 fucking months.

The news hasn’t gone down one bit. People are now naming you as the woman, and it makes Jungkook sick. But he can’t say anything yet. But behind closed doors, nothing is any better.

Hyun-min stands over Jungkook in Yoongi’s studio, where they always seem to be. “The label wants you to choose, so we can get out a fucking statement.” Hyun-min is calm today, showing how over and done he is with Jungkook.

“Your career with the company or the scandal.”

Jungkook should be offended that they’re making him choose. But he gets it—just like you wanted an answer from him, they need an answer too.

And he’d already failed one of you, so...

Decision made, but still not sure, Jungkook opens his mouth to speak.

“What if we made a song out of this?” Everyone goes silent, and Yoongi raises a brow. They all look at him like he’s insane, and he feels exactly like that. But ever since you blocked him, he’s been thinking about it. Popular Western artists have done it.

“I could make a song denying all this and saying I’m not the father and what not.” It would be better for you if he did so—you’d be safe, and that’s all he wants and can do.

Mind you, he’s not saying this excitedly. He says it as a drained man who has nothing to lose and has given up.

Hyun-min lets out a sudden loud laugh and clap, startling everyone.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about. You’re a fucking genius, Kook. Get to working, guys.” He says excitedly. “Are you thinking of a music video?”

Jungkook looks at him like he’s crazy and shakes his head. Yoongi responds though.

“Just a song. We don’t want to look excited. We still need to respect Yn.” Yoongi turns on his laptop, and Hyun-min rolls his eyes at him.

“Just get to working on the hit, boys.”

Another week goes by, and your water breaks suddenly one night. Next thing you know, you’re welcoming your bundle of joy into the world, and for a moment, everything else stops to hurt. Pain turns into love, appreciation for this moment that you’ve craved for and begged for.

—

A scandal can make or break a pop star.

But if you handle it well, it can make you the biggest pop star and a hit song. Topping charts, starting a trend, leaving a legacy. Who doesn’t want that? Especially in a society that feeds on drama. It’s a guaranteed exposure. Everybody loves a good scandal, even better if it feeds on the downfall or action.

All the pop stars who’ve gone on to be big and legendary have done it. Michael Jackson with Billie Jean, Justin Bieber with Maria. Who is Jeon Jungkook to be an exception?

It’s like a ritual. If it happens to you, then you are guaranteed a spot at the top of the charts and awards. And that’s all Jungkook has ever wanted.

Being in the industry for a while with no breakout but recognition, it's getting frustrating. He knows he's got the talent, got the skill, got the looks. So he knows he can do it. Everybody tells him the same.

It’s not like he's a complete nobody. He has a good fanbase, but he wants to be more than just a popular local artist. He wants to be a global star. And what better time than this? At least that’s what his team says.

“Holy shit, Kook, you’re gonna be a star.”

“This is gonna get you on Jimmy Fallon, SNL, fuck... I need to prep your statements.”

In the studio at the final listening of the song, everybody congratulates him on a song they aren’t sure will succeed just yet. He better succeed with this; too much is at risk for all this to fail.

“Can’t believe that girl’s trying to baby trap you.” Everyone in the studio laughs, all except him and his sound engineer, Yoongi.

“Once we get the DNA test, we’ll know for sure... crazy bitch.”

At that, Jungkook lifts his head, not knowing whether to defend you or let it go. There’s no point in any of it.

“You okay, golden boy?”

Golden boy? That’s new. Yoongi teasing him too is weird; he rarely talks to the guy.

Jungkook forces a smile.

“I’m okay, just taking in everything.”

Yoongi nods, seeing through Jungkook, seeing everything everybody is ignoring. Fear, want, guilt. Guilt.

“This is gonna make you big, Kook.” Hyun-min, his manager, says holding his shoulder. Then he leans in to be by his ear. “It’s not your kid, Kook, it’s gonna be fine. Right?”

People only like you after a scandal if it’s not true, or you deny it real hard to the point of making people believe it's fake. And Jungkook can only do one of those. And either way, he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.

“Right.”

—

Two weeks later, you’ve just put your newborn to sleep and you’re resting on your phone, not fully healed, mind you.

You’ve been seeing that news that Jungkook had released a song, and you haven’t seen much of it. Honestly, you didn’t want to check it out, but the news is buzzing everywhere, and you’re curious.

You find it and play it.

The intro starts to play, and you have a bad feeling about it just from then. It was a catchy song—a good song—you knew Yoongi and Jungkook produced. Jungkook’s vocals are great as he hums.

But your heart sinks when the first verse ends and goes into the chorus.

It was the type of song that was so catchy, bright, and rhythmic that it distracted you from the truth and meaning of it all. The catchy lyrics distracted you from the truth in the words.

And it killed you to hear him say those things. It’s one thing to not want to be in the child’s life, but this song—this was something else. Something that made you feel like an idiot.

“It just had to be you, had to be you to fall and catch my vibe. I’m sorry you fell. But I won’t lie, girl that’s not my child.” No matter how many weeks go by, the lyrics cause you pain—physical and mental—and you feel angry at yourself for keeping silent. Jimin reached out and told you to be silent, and the DNA test was never sent out or demanded for. Because it is his child.

Interviews with big Western channels, talk shows with the biggest hosts, articles from the biggest magazines, performances, collabs. You don’t check them at all, 'cause you know they will only make you feel sick. He’s shown you his colours, and you don’t need anymore.

He’s gotten what he’s wanted—the big break he’s been looking for.

And the next thing you know, he has an album coming out.

GOLDEN.

The album he had archived to fix, the album he said didn’t feel right. You guess it feels right now. It has so much meaning now.

You’re sure you don’t want anything to do with him now. You don’t even feel bad anymore.

But you do hate having to be silent, so you’ll play along, 'cause all this time people haven’t let it go, and journalists have been on your neck.

So in a simple message to the internet, you say.

“The baby isn’t his. I have no clue how these rumours began, but the baby isn’t his, it was never his.”

Just how sick you were feeling, Jungkook feels the same when he sees it. What was he expecting? He deserves it.

But he’s hate to leave it like this.

So when he has the time, he reaches out in the worst way you’d want him to. Money. You don’t take it though.

Through Instagram.

Jungkook: I owe you.

You don’t even know what to think.

You: You don’t owe me anything. Go ahead and live the life you wanted.

༻❁༺𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆, 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏?༻❁༺

So what do you think? I hope you liked it. let's chat about it 💬💬🥂

A/n: i like creating my own storyline for albums and then listening to it again, so this one was a tearful one. you should try it lol.

ciao, see ya when i see ya

I hope you guys don't let this flop, cause I spent a lot much time and blood working on this. Anyways I appreciate you guys. Thanks.

Every positive like, reblog and comment is appreciated.

[gukcnt]

SWEETEST SIN ⭒ JJK [M. LIST]

he’s always there, watching — always watching while you dance and you never meant to fall into the devil’s trap but you did, rules broke, lips touched and somehow the broken part of you began to heal… until you ended up carrying his child and saw his true colors. he calls you his angel yet still keeps you locked like a bird in a cage and no matter what he does, you know you’ll never love the monster he is.

pairing — mafia dom!jungkook x stripper sub!femreader

genre — mafia & pregnancy au, dark romance, accidental pregnancy, slight agegap, enemies to lovers, stalking, one sided love, pining, slowburn, yandere!jungkook, obsessive!jungkook, badass confident!reader, devil x angel dynamic, love/hate relationship, power imbalance, toxic love, contrast of worlds, crime, smut, angst, fluff

warnings — 18+, explicit sex scenes, mature themes, dark content, graphic violence, kidnapping and captivity, smoking and alcohol consumption, mental health themes, trauma descriptions, miscommunication and argument, manipulation, heartbreak, healing and self-acceptance, fear of love, insecurities, love confessions and confrontation, pregnancy themes, parental struggles, each chapter contains their individual warnings (reader discretion is advised due to the dark and potentially triggering content)

status — to be released.

taglist — [open]

main masterlist

⤷ 01 : coming soon...

[muniimyg]

..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. my lover’s anatomy // jjk ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

chief jeon hates interns … lol

+

pov: i gave up on fic titles . this fic is a silly spin off of left on read aka 2025 ver <3

kimi's note ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

nsfw is applied in all my content + fluff , angst , and crack .

— info

hospital au

secret relationship

work place power imbalance (chief jk + intern oc)

— parts

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // 18 // 19 // 20

˗ˏˋ© 2025 muniimyg on tumblrˎˊ˗

[luvismenu]

do i wanna know ? — jeon jungkook ,, series

- ̗̀context: as an angel and an intern in heaven, you run a heaven account where lost souls come for comfort, small reminders, and gentle words. it’s meant to be quiet, untouched, and safe. your work is supposed to stay hidden from the dark — humans can find you, angels can follow you, but demons are never meant to see. then one does, and suddenly your timeline feels less like a sanctuary and more like a battlefield.

- ̗̀pairing: demon!jungkook x angel!oc

- ̗̀genre: fantasy au , smau + written, enemies to lovers , forbidden romance ₊˚୧

- ̗̀warnings: SLOW BURN , banter, profanity, original characters, mentions of violence (angel vs demon clashes), blood, murder, deaths, heavy themes, sexual themes, drama, betrayal, angst, eventual fluff, religious/mythological themes (loosely interpreted).

- ̗̀important note: this story is completely fictional. all characters, events and settings are from my own imagination and my own fic universe. it is not meant to reflect or offend anyone’s personal beliefs, religions, or real-life figures. this is purely a work of fantasy and storytelling. if you don't like it, don't read or comment on it.

started: ??? , ended: ???

- ̗̀index:

intro — coming soon

© 2025 luvi. All rights reserved.

[luvismenu]

all set for spooky szn 😛

[hobidreams]

Moonlit Throne | Masterlist

“do you… trust me?” it’s a low whisper, soft lips pressed against the stuttering pulse in your throat. but you think, or maybe you hope, the implications are trying to delve much deeper into your heart. regardless, your answer has never wavered. 

“yes.”

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff parts posted: 45/45 +1 words: 68k contains: drabble series, historical au, royal au, romance, drama, the very definition of “it’s complicated,” inspired by daechwita. a/n: please pay attention to the dates, but read in the order that the drabbles are listed, not in chronological!

historical context/references. | fic playlist.

february 1869 {m} - your king takes care of you and his business, no matter who is watching.

Keep reading

[luvismenu]

𝜗ৎ stuck with you — jeon jungkook ,, one-shot

<𝟑 .ᐟ context: you rejected him not too long ago, convinced yourself he wasn’t the one for you. but when one night spirals into danger, chaos, and a chase through the city streets — he’s the only one by your side.

𝜗ৎ genre: a little bit of everything? — thriller, comedy, action, fluff, romance, angsty in the beginning

<𝟑 .ᐟ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

𝜗ৎ important (tw) warnings: harassment attempt, fighting, mentions of violence, weapons, injuries, blood andd explicit language.

<𝟑 .ᐟ w.c: 5.5k+

𝜗ৎ note: i know i know it sounds scary but it's fun trust me! lots of playful banter & jk taking care of you ,, fluffy fluff moments. and omg i was supposed to finish another draft first (a smut one-shot) but this one just spoke to me more fr ,,, cuz i jus love writing drama & sillyness way more than smut lmao — literally wrote half of it at 4am (my sleep schedule sucks) it took me a whole week to finish 💔 but it's worth it !! (i hope) and some parts can be unrealistic or cliché , BUT IDC IT'S fiction. my world my rules hahahehe 😍. enj 🩷

“are you sure you’re gonna be okay? i can come with you, you know.” mina asked, standing beside you with a hand on your shoulder, her expression creased with concern.

you smiled, brushing it off. “i’ll be fine, i’ll just call an uber or something.”

“ubers don’t really work here,” yoongi chimed in from his spot at the table. he didn’t even glance up, just leaned back in his chair and kept sipping his beer.

mina shot him a look. “you’re not helping.”

“what? it’s true.” he shrugged, completely unbothered, and mina rolled her eyes.

“yoongi and i can drop you, ___,” she offered, gesturing between the two of them. “he brought his car thankfully.”

you shook your head quickly. “it’s fine, really. you guys are just starting to have fun, i don’t wanna—”

“or jungkook could take you,” yoongi cut in.

the words landed like a brick. everyone’s head turned toward jungkook, who was sitting a little apart from the group. his eyes lifted immediately, like he’d been listening the whole time.

you opened your mouth, trying to string together something, but nothing came out. the silence stretched between you as you caught his gaze, which was very awkward and heavy.

mina kicked yoongi’s leg, quick and hard, since she was standing close beside him while he sat turned a little in your direction. he yelped quietly. “what was that for!?” he hissed, tilting his head up toward her

she bent down slightly, lowering her voice. “she rejected him not so long ago. you’re literally making it more awkward now.” her whisper was sharp, but you still caught every word.

“well how was i supposed to know that?” yoongi muttered back, earning another nudge to his shoulder.

you forced a smile. “really, guys. i’m fine. i’ll manage.”

the table fell into an uncomfortable silence until hoseok, already a little tipsy, broke it.

“what’s the matter!?” he slurred, blinking between you and jungkook.

mina sighed and gave him the short version.

“ah,” hoseok said after a beat. “but jungkook came on his bike, right? he could take her. he’s been quiet all night anyway.” he gestured lazily at jungkook, who only sighed through his nose.

the air grew heavier, awkward pressing in from every side.

“uhh… well, i mean,” mina tried again, looking at you, “this is a pretty dangerous place for you to go alone.”

“yeah,” yoongi cut in with a scoff. “hoseok had to pick the worst spot in the city. i didn’t even know this dump existed.”

“hey!” hoseok yelled, instantly defensive. “this is the cheapest and the best food in the whole goddamn city. best restaurant ever!!!”

yoongi raised his brows, considering, then nodded. “okay, fine, you got a point. the food is delicious.”

mina groaned. “guys, focus please.”

that was when jungkook finally stood. he pushed his chair back, straightening, and moved to stand between you and the others.

“i can take her,” he said simply.

everyone nodded like that solved the problem.

“no.”

your voice cut through sharply, and they all frowned.

“___—” mina started, but you were faster.

“i’m going. if i have a problem, i’ll call you, alright? see, i have my phone right here.” you held it up before shoving it back into your pocket.

the group sighed, almost in unison, but jungkook didn’t join them. he only watched you, his face unreadable.

“if you say so,” yoongi said finally, leaning back. mina let out another frustrated sigh.

“see you guys,” you said with a quick smile, already turning on your heel.

. . .

you slipped out of the little “restaurant” quickly, hugging your arms tight against the chill in the air. the street outside was darker than you remembered, quieter too. maybe leaving alone wasn’t the smartest idea, but the air inside had felt suffocating — laughter, noise, and faces you didn’t have the patience for tonight.

especially one face in particular.

jeon jungkook.

you hadn’t planned on seeing him again so soon. a few days ago he’d confessed, and you’d rejected him — not because you hated him, but because… well, what was there, really?

you didn’t think the two of you were compatible. he was always in the background, quiet and... you don't even know how to describe him. its like he’d rather melt into the corner of the room than be part of it. and you barely even knew him ; the little you did know just painted him as a boring guy. polite enough, sure, but nothing that made your heart race.

so no, you didn’t want to date him. you didn’t even want to deal with the awkwardness of being around him. leaving felt like the only option.

your footsteps echoed on the pavement, steady, until a second set joined yours. you didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know who it was.

cuz of course he’d follow you.

“what do you want, jungkook?”

your voice came out sharper than you meant, arms crossing tight over your chest, posture stiff, like you were bracing yourself for a fight you didn’t ask for.

he slowed a little, eyes flicking over the way your shoulders hunched, the way you angled your body away from him. his hand raked through his messy dark hair, and when he finally spoke, it was quieter than the night air.

“i just wanna walk you home. that’s all.”

you risked a glance at him; his hands had slipped into his pockets, like he was trying to make himself look less threatening, like he was proving he meant no harm.

after a beat, you finally answered.

“i said i am fine.” your voice cut through the quiet street. you didn’t even look at him, eyes fixed on the cracked pavement ahead.

“it’s dangerous out here,” he said, his tone still maddeningly calm. “do you even know where you are?”

you scoffed; “i can figure it out myself, thank you very much.”

he walked a little closer, not enough to crowd you, but enough that you could feel his gaze on you. “why do you seem to dislike me so much?”

“i don’t dislike you!”

his brows furrowed, lips pressing together before he tried again. “then why are you so adamant about me taking you home?”

you huffed, resuming your walk. “it’s just weird, okay? now leave me alone.”

“i won’t.” his answer came fast,, like it wasn’t even up for debate.

you threw your hands up. “ugh, don’t you have your bike back at the restaurant?”

“hoseok will take care of it.”

you snapped your head toward him, incredulous. “yeah, sure, let the drunk man take care of a vehicle.”

he smirked faintly, but his voice carried more bite this time. “and let a girl walk through dark alleys in the middle of the night?”

you groaned, stopping in your tracks with an exasperated, “oh my god! okay, fine.”

so you walked, side by side, in silence. the street stretched long and empty, the only sound you could hear was the scuff of your shoes on the cracked sidewalk. you kept your arms crossed, shoulders stiff, careful to leave just enough space between you and him.

jungkook noticed — he noticed everything. the caution in your stance, the way you held yourself like someone who was used to bracing for impact.

he smirked faintly, almost in disbelief, but he didn’t reach for you. not after the way you’d pushed him away the last time he tried.

and after a long stretch of silence, his voice cut through the night.

“can i ask you something?” his voice was low, almost careful.

“no.”

the word slipped out before you could stop it, quick and blunt. you didn’t even look at him.

he frowned, the crease between his brows deepening at your immediate rejection. for a second, he just stared at you, like he couldn’t believe you hadn’t even let him finish.

“well, that’s rude,” he muttered, kicking at a loose pebble on the sidewalk.

the silence stretched again, heavier now. his footsteps matched yours, steady but restless, until finally he spoke up again.

“why did you reject me?”

your steps faltered. your jaw tightened, teeth grinding as you forced yourself forward.

“don’t start.”

the words came out bitter, clipped, like you were shutting the door in his face all over again. your expression darkened, eyes fixed on the stupid long road that seems endless.

jungkook swore under his breath, dragging a hand over his face like he already regretted saying it. “great. i can’t even get an answer.”

he shook his head, but the more he looked at you — the way you walked half a step further away, arms locked tight across your chest — the sharper the sting in his chest grew. it burned until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

he stopped walking altogether, forcing you to halt too when you realized he wasn’t beside you.

“___,” his voice came rough, raw in a way that startled even him. “i need to know.”

you let out an exasperated breath, turning just enough to glare at him. “why does it matter? you asked, i said no. end of story.”

“it’s not the end for me,” he shot back, frustration leaking into his tone. “i don’t get how you can just brush it off like it meant nothing. i really like y—”

“it didn’t mean anything,” you snapped, even though your chest tightened the second the words left your mouth. you crossed your arms tighter, eyes darting away.

he stared at you, jaw clenched. “that’s bullshit and you know it.”

your laugh was sharp, humorless. “fine. you really wanna know? you’re…” your voice trailed, but his silence pressed you to keep going. “you’re boring, jungkook. okay? you hang back, you don’t talk much, you just… exist in the background. i don’t want that kind of life. i don’t want to date someone who is so... ugh! i don't fucking know. lazy? weak?”

the words hung between you, harsher than you intended, but brutally honest.

jungkook blinked at you, stunned into silence for a moment. then he shook his head slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips even as his eyes burned. “you think you know me enough to decide that? you don’t know me, ___. not really.”

you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, ready to argue, but he stepped closer, voice steadier now.

“but if you give me a chance....” he sighs. “get to know me before you write me off like that.”

you swallowed hard, his words settling heavier in your chest than you wanted to admit. the way he looked at you made it hard to breathe for a second. maybe he was right. maybe you didn’t really know him at all.

but it's too late.

your lips parted like you were going to say something, but the hesitation gave you away. you quickly tore your gaze from his, shifting a step back.

“just… leave, jungkook.”

the words came softer than you meant, not sharp this time, not angry — it was almost like you were pleading.

his jaw clenched. for a second, it looked like he might argue, like he might step closer again. but he only let out a low breath through his nose, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

“fine,” he muttered.

he turned, the weight of his presence pulling away from you as he started down the street in the opposite direction.

your footsteps felt louder now that you were walking alone. each echo bounced off the empty buildings,, like the street itself was reminding you how alone you really were. every shadow seemed to stretch longer andlean closer.

maybe it had been too harsh ; the things you said to him. maybe you were judgy, too quick to write people off. but you’d always been careful about who you let close.

jungkook wasn’t a bad guy — you knew that much. you didn’t talk to him often, but with the same circle of friends, you’d seen enough to know he was decent.

and yet, when he confessed, your first instinct had been to push him away. maybe it was fear, maybe it was the thought of letting someone you barely knew into your life. maybe it was something deeper you didn’t want to unpack. either way, you couldn’t say yes. even though, deep down, a part of you wanted to.

. . .

you were so caught in the silence of your thoughts that you didn’t notice him at first.

but you see him. a tall, broad man stepping out from a side street, his grin wide and unpleasant. the sight of him made your stomach drop.

“hey there, beautiful,” the stranger drawled, blocking your path. “where ya headed?”

you frowned. “to the police. so stay away from me.”

his laugh was deep, amused, like he thought you were joking. “damn okay girl, you’re feisty. i like that.” he leaned closer, an arm reaching toward your shoulders. “how about you come home with me, hmm? im good looking, dont you think? you’ll enjoy it.”

your stomach turned. “i said stay the fuck away from me.” you grit out.

but his hand was already closing around your arm. gripping you, too tight. you yanked back, but his hand was like iron, pulling you closer. his breath was hot and sour against your skin.

“let go of me!”

you shoved at his chest, hard, but he barely stumbled. he was stronger, heavier, the kind of weight that smothered. in an instant, his body pinned you against the cold brick wall, your back scraping rough against it. the panic in your chest spiked, sharp and blinding, your breath catching as you struggled.

“get off me—!” your voice cracked, swallowed by the empty street.

his grin twisted as his face dipped closer, hot breath hitting your skin. you jerked your head away, but his mouth still crashed against your cheek, sloppy and too close to your lips. the sting of it made your stomach twist, tears burning hot at the corners of your eyes as fear tangled with fury.

“stop fucking fighting it!”

your fear boiled into rage. you drove your knee up hard, right into his groin. the impact made him choke on a groan, stumbling back as his hands flew down to clutch his balls

you didn’t wait. the second he doubled over, you spun on your heel, legs ready to bolt. but he was faster than you thought. his hand shot out, snatching your jaw in a crushing grip before you could take two steps. his fingers dug into your skin ; too rough , forcing your head back towards him.

“you’re gonna regret that, bitch!”

and suddenly, he wasn’t holding you anymore.

he flew backward, crashing into the wall with a grunt. and when you looked up—

jungkook was standing in front of you, chest heaving, eyes burning with a fury you’d never seen. his fists were clenched so tight they shook.

the man scrambled to his feet, face twisting in rage. “who the fuck are you?” he spat, trying to sound tough, but his voice cracked. “mind your own business, this little kitten’s coming home with me.”

and something inside jungkook snapped.

before the man could even blink, jungkook had him by the throat, slamming him into the bricks so hard the wall shuddered. his fist cracked across the man’s face with a sickening thud.

“if you fucking touch her again,” his voice came out low and.. deadly.

“oh my god, jungkook..” your voice trembled, shocked at the violence.

he froze, your voice slicing through his haze of rage. the man sagged unconscious in his grip, blood streaking down his nose. jungkook shoved him down, turning back to you with wild eyes, chest rising and falling too fast.

before you could process, shadows moved at the end of the alley. more men — you could see at least ten of them — storming into view, faces twisted in rage. one had a knife gleaming under the streetlight.

“you fucking bastard! you hit our boy?” the tallest one snarled, voice booming down the alley.

jungkook shifted instantly, planting himself in front of you, broad shoulders as a wall between you and the men. his tone was like steel, sharp enough to cut.

“i’ll fucking do it again if he touches her.”

and one by one.. blades flashed in the dim light, glinting as they all raised them. your breath snagged in your throat, stomach twisting.

you leaned just enough for your words to reach him, your voice pitched low.

“i don’t wanna hurt your ego, but there are like… fifteen of them, and just us two. i can’t fight knives, and i really think we should run.” you forced a quick smile, trying to hide the edge of panic.

his head turned slightly, eyes flicking back at you. for a second, you expected him to argue, to puff up like a martyr. instead, his lips twitched into the faintest grin.

“good idea.”

his hand grabbed yours, warm and firm, and then you were running.

the shouts followed — “get them!” — boots pounding behind you. jungkook pulled you down one alley, then another, weaving through the maze of dark streets, his grip unrelenting.

your lungs burned.

you skidded to a stop when the path split into four directions, nothing but darkness on every side.

“you really had to pick this way to home, huh?” he muttered between breaths.

you scoffed, scanning desperately for any light. “i was trying to get away from you! why did you follow me?”

“i think you should be grateful i did. you could’ve gotten fucking kidnapped or— ugh, this is not the time to fight.”

“yeah, clearly,” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

the sound of boots grew louder. and both of you cursed.

jungkook’s hand squeezed yours, and he tugged you down another path.

you barely had time to think, the world blurring into a series of sharp turns, shadows, and the thunder of footsteps closing in.

finally, he shoved you gently against a wall, pressing close enough to shield you, one hand braced near your head.

“sorry,” he whispered, catching his breath. “be quiet.”

your chest heaved as you tried to calm your ragged breathing. the night pressed in, thick and suffocating.

he leaned against the wall beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. his knuckles were raw and split, a dark line of blood streaking down his fingers, but he still held your hand like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

when your breathing finally evened out, the absurdity of everything hit you — the chase, the knives, the sudden violence. a laugh slipped out of you, soft and surprised.

jungkook’s head turned, eyes going wide for a second, and then he laughed too — a low, breathy sound that made you grin. “are you laughing? you’re fucking crazy, ___.”

you tapped his shoulder, half annoyed, half amused. “me!? you’re the one who went all ‘touch her again and i’ll kill you.’” you exaggerated the voice, mocking him.

he let out a short, crooked smile and ran a hand through his hair, smearing blood across his fingers. “i meant it,” he said quietly. “that fucker deserved it.”

the laughter died down, leaving a quiet that felt heavier than the chase had been. his gaze dipped to your face and it lingered. slow and intentional. he stepped in front of you, close enough that the night seemed to shrink around the two of you, and his hand rose without a thought — the back of his knuckles brushing your cheek.

“are you okay?” he asked, the question soft enough to be almost private.

you felt something unclench at the sound of his voice. despite the blood and the running and the knives, there was a gentleness there that caught you off guard. “yeah. i’m fine,” you said.

his thumb stroked your cheekbone, smearing a faint line of red across your skin. it was such a small, casual thing, but the air between you tightened in a way that felt… good. dangerous, but good.

“i should’ve killed him for even looking at you wrong,” he muttered, low and possessive.

you scoffed, trying to make light of it. “and go to prison?”

he breathed out a short laugh and leaned closer, breath warm against your face. “maybe. but it would’ve been worth it.”

his face hovered inches from yours. the world narrowed to the two of you — the pulse at your throat, the soft scrape of his knuckles against your skin. something in you wanted to say the thing you’d pushed away a few days ago, wanted to let whatever this was edge forward. instead, you leaned in, and he met you halfway.

until the snap of movement — boots on wet concrete — ripped through the air. his head snapped up, the moment breaking as tension flooded his body at once again.

“fuck,” he muttered, grabbing your hand again.

you ran, your chest aching, your feet pounding. but then —

“ow!” you yelped, stumbling as pain shot up your leg.

jungkook stopped on a dime, the way he turned with concern etched on his face made your whole chest tighten. he crouched, eyes scanning your face. “shit.”

you tried to make a joke out of it but it came out breathless and scattered. “i’m fucked, aren’t i? are you gonna leave me? it’s over, isn’t it?” you winced, words tumbling out faster than you meant.

his mouth went hard for a second, like he was weighing the wrongness of letting you walk on that foot. then he didn’t hesitate. he bent, hands already under your knees and around your back, lifting you with an ease that made your knees go weak for a different reason.

“not a chance,” he said, his voice low. he tucked you against his chest, one arm under your knees, the other across your back, and started running. your arms looped around his neck because there was nothing else to grab, and suddenly the world narrowed to the press of his chest and the thud of his steps.

you could hear them behind you — curses, boots hitting the pavement — closer now. every alley looked the same, walls dripping with shadow, but jungkook moved like he knew how to slip through them. he didn’t talk; he just ran, body taut and controlled, like he had one job and he wouldn’t fail it.

he shoved open a rusted door and dragged you into a cramped storage room, slamming it shut and bracing his shoulder against it. the space smelled like oil and dust. you sagged against him, breath loud, the pain a hot, pulsing thing between your ribs and your ankle.

“shh.. we should stay quiet,” he whispered, pressing his ear to the door as if he could listen them out.

you tried, but the pain made silence impossible. “i can’t. it— it fucking hurts like hell.” your voice was small in the boxy dark.

he cursed under his breath and sat down hard on an overturned crate, pulling you into his lap. he lifted your leg with the careful attention of someone who’d been handed something fragile. the ankle was already swelling, a bruise blooming fast. both of you winced when he touched it.

“that’s bad,” he muttered.

“ya think?” you snapped, and then immediately hated how thin and whiny you sounded.

he barely smiled, more like a flash of something that softened his face. “not broken, though,” he said after a careful probe. “but it's definitely sprained. you won’t be walking on this for a while.”

“ugh , i should've worn my sneakers. these fucking heels.” you whispered under your breath.

outside the door, distant voices paced and then faded. you both froze until the footsteps passed. when the threat moved on, the adrenaline in your veins slowly leaked away, replaced by an ache that had nothing to do with running.

you tried not to make a sound, but the pain curled your lip, and jungkook reached out, thumb brushing a distracted line across your forehead where sweat had gathered. it was an odd, tender gesture that felt like a soft promise.

“don’t worry,” he said. “i’ll carry you and run if i have to.”

you let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “you just did.”

his mouth curved, but his eyes stayed serious. “again,” he said firmly. “any time you need me.”

he checked the door once more, then helped you up with one arm around your waist as you leaned on him. each step hurt, but he was steady, his other hand pressed to your lower back like an anchor.

for a second, pressed against him and wobbling on a ruined ankle, you let yourself wonder what it would’ve been like if you hadn’t rejected him. the thought was sharp, intrusive, and you shoved it away just as quickly. not now. not when your foot throbbed and there were still men with knives somewhere outside.

you both moved cautiously, your weight leaning into him with every step. the silence pressed heavy, broken only by your uneven breaths. and then a shadow shifted at the corner up ahead.

a man stepped out. a fat, bald man with a grin on his face that made you uncomfortable. the knife in his hand caught the faint light, gleaming like a warning.

“there you are,” he drawled, voice slick and satisfied.,

your body went cold. you grabbed at jungkook’s collar like a lifeline. “o-okay jungkook, this is your time to shine again. if you don’t carry me and run right now, i swear i’ll kill you before he does.” your words were frantic, half command, half plea.

jungkook’s jaw tightened and then, without another word, he lifted you again and bolted into the dark. behind you, the bald man cursed and shouted, “they’re here!” and the chase started anew.

jungkook ran as fast as he could. and you thought he’d duck into another alley, somewhere darker, somewhere worse, but instead he sprinted toward the glowing lights ahead. you hadn’t noticed them before — too busy with your ankle, the shouts, the men and their knives — but now they screamed into view. neon signs flickered, voices rose, the distant buzz of a crowd thickened until suddenly you were swallowed whole by noise and color.

you blinked hard, disoriented.

a night market.

thank fuck.

lanterns swung on strings above cramped stalls. steam curled from skewers sizzling on open grills. kids tugged at their parents’ sleeves, teenagers barked laughter, you can hear a vendor shouting about “buy one, get one free!”

the entire world felt too alive, too normal, too bright for the terror still pounding in your chest.

jungkook slowed only once the tide of people closed around you, shielding you both in anonymity. his hand pressed gently to the small of your back, steering you through the crowd like he’d been here a hundred times. a few people glanced over — your messy hair, his split knuckles, the way you leaned into him — but no one cared enough to stop.

he found empty chairs at a dumpling stall and guided you down into one, careful and steady. you winced when your ankle knocked against the low table, and his head dropped instantly, voice soft. “you okay?”

you nodded quickly, more out of instinct than honesty, and his hand lingered a second longer at your arm before he sat across from you.

you couldn’t help it — the contrast cracked something open inside you. “we were almost stabbed to death,” you hissed, wide-eyed, “and now we’re… at a dumpling stand?”

he actually cracks a grin, shoulders shaking with a short laugh. “disguise by normalcy. or… something like that, i don't know — namjoon taught me that.”

you stared at him, incredulous, until the absurdity hit you too, and a laugh bubbled out ; shaky, unstoppable, spilling into the noise of the market.

“you’re insane,” you whispered, dropping your arms onto the table, shaking your head.

“as long as it’s not boring.” his grin softened into something more careful.

a lady from the stall appeared, asking loudly if you needed anything. jungkook didn’t hesitate. “two plates, please.” she nodded and bustled off, steam already rising from the pans.

you stared at your hands, twisting your fingers together, then finally lifted your gaze to his face. the words tumbled out come out soft and careful.

“i’m sorry i said that.”

jungkook raised an eyebrow. “sorry you called me boring? or sorry you called me lazy? orrrr sorry you called me weak?”

you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. “all of it, okay? please shut up.”

his grin lingered for a second before faltering, his eyes softening as he leaned forward on his elbows. “you don’t have to apologize if you don’t mean it.”

“i mean it,” you said quickly, lowering your hands. “i shouldn’t have said that. i just… i didn’t know how else to push you away.”

he exhaled slowly, gaze dropping to his split knuckles, the faintest smear of blood drying along his skin. “you don’t have to push me away, ___. i’m not trying to trap you. i just… don’t want you to think i’m not worth knowing.”

you nodded quietly, not trusting yourself to say much else. his words sat heavy in your chest, echoing louder than they should’ve. and maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing off, or maybe it was the way his voice had softened, but for the first time in a while you felt something about him. he felt… different now.

not like the boring boy in the background you’d always painted him as. there was something steadier, warmer, and it pulled a small, reluctant smile to your lips before you could stop it.

the stall lady’s voice cut through the moment. “two plates of dumplings!”

jungkook shot up instantly, like he’d been waiting for the excuse to move, and went to grab them. you watched him carefully balance the steaming plates, his knuckles still raw and red against the porcelain edges, which makes you pout a little.

when he sets them down, the aroma hits you — rich, savory, almost dizzying.

he sat again and reached for the little wooden picks on the side. he speared a dumpling neatly, lifted it, then blew across the steam rising from it. when he turned it toward you, waiting, you couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out.

“are you… feeding me right now?” you raised an eyebrow, amused.

his lips curved. “if you’ll let me.”

you laughed, shaking your head but leaning forward anyway. “i know ive said it before but you’re crazy.” still, you took the bite, and heat burst across your tongue, savory and comforting.

he grinned like it was a victory, “you should eat a lot. you must be tired.” he says, spearing another dumpling.

“you should be the one eating more,” you said, pointing at his tired eyes, his split knuckles. “you carried me like… i don't know, a hundred times tonight. you’re probably gonna pass out before i do.”

he shrugged. “worth it.”

“you can’t just say ‘worth it’ about everything,” you muttered, though your lips betrayed you with another smile.

“it’s true though,” he said simply, and you rolled your eyes, hiding the warmth curling low in your chest.

. . .

you finish the last dumpling, wiping your fingers on a napkin. the market noise hums around you and you finally look up at him properly.

“thank you,” you say, simple and a little awkward. “for... saving me. for, you know, everything.”

he smiles. “you don’t have to thank me like it was a favor.”

you roll your eyes, but the grin on your face is real. “still— seriously, jungkook. thanks for not leaving me.”

jungkook studied you for a beat, like he was trying to memorize the angle of your smile. then, in that low, certain voice that had stopped you before tonight and was stopping you now, he said, “i could never leave you. even if you rejected me a million times. you’re stuck with me.” he said the last part with a little joke in it, but his eyes were serious.

you blinked, caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to argue and a tiny, helpless part of you that wanted to believe him. instead, you reached out and rested your palm over his hand on the table, feeling the rough skin and the faint sting from his knuckles. you smiled, small and honest.

“i’m glad i got stuck with you.”

a/n: was that fun 😖 (thots pls)

[elithenium]

We love a man who doesn't give up

[luvismenu]

how i felt writing him

[serethereal]

i have this disease called i will open your message and get distracted and forget to reply and then the notification will be gone so i will not have replied for ages and you will think i am ignoring you but. i am not. it’s incurable

[citrustan]

lovefool [1/6] (jjk)

pairing: jeon jungkook × reader

genre: angst, fluff (sort of), smut (right at the beginning and some more towards the end of the beginning but none after that!)

summary: your boyfriend’s pretty girl best friend keeps hogging up your alone time with him.

word count: 4k - this story will have around 3 or 4 parts. (six parts + drabbles)

warnings: IDK how to write smut ok so yes pretty wild of me to begin w it. oc is very insecure and jealous, oc and yuna are passive aggressive towards each other and jungkook is trying his best, also, long platinum blonde haired tattoo artist jungkook w his beautiful sleeve tattoo.

note: please note that this is one of my first attempts at fan fiction writing and it’s not very polished. i will be editing it in the near future, some scenes are rushed and i have not managed to fill in the gaps yet. the plot remains the same but i’ll definitely add more dialogue. thanks for reading luvs! It’s edited!

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Keep reading

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 think i need someone older (s & f)

olderBoyfriend!Jungkook x inexperienced!reader

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content: some plot first, loss of virginity, age gap of 9 years (he´s 30), thigh humping, little dry humping too, cowgirl, he talks her through it, dom!jungkook, "sweet girl, baby, love", "gguk" lowkey insecure reader, praise, making out, breast play, clit play, creampie, unprotected, hickies on him, big c!ck Jungkook, small karaoke session, he´s whipped and wants to take care of her, short mention of alcohol (bc of that fucking bar he has omg), allusions to reader being short, she's very feminine

note from cherry: i tried to do justice to the people who wanted this, i hope you´re satisfied mwah! sooo sorry if it´s not giving lmao writing this was lowkey exhausting, also sorry for typos as always

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Jeon Jungkook is exactly like his preferred alcoholic beverage; whiskey. strong, rich, smooth, smells like oak and a hint of vanilla caramel. Much like your introduction to the drink, you met this man in a bar.

A real man- none of those barely twenty-year olds that paraded around in their sagged sweatpants and with a bright tap of unlimited unopened snapchats lighting up the dark corners of the bar. Jungkook is pure masculinity, a chest so full with security, so grounded in his abilities that it was practically impossible to ignore how his large, brown galaxy eyes focused on your face, zeroing in on your cupid´s bow while you licked the stinging remains of your moscow mule away- he paid for it, of course.

Once the enticing conversation that felt almost comically easy faded, you expected him to try and take you to his house- mansion, as he revealed in a sidetracked sentence. Although you were looking forward to seeing the small metal pearls below and over his eyebrow move as they crinkle in pleasure, the tight ropes of virginity had not yet been released in your 21 years of living. Shackles that keep you tied down- as promised out of your own, admittedly senseless morality, not to be opened by a stranger. The key to your cuffs belonged to a lover.

It was unforeseeable, nevertheless natural for him to droop his heavily tattooed arm around your waist while escorting you out of the establishment. The sleeve of his white button down folded up along his forearm for you to see the beauty of his skin, wondering just how many more of those carefully crafted works of art he´s hiding beneath the business casual attire.

Once engulfed in the harsh, bitter wind that itaewon possesses, his arm only drew you in closer, so near in fact, you were able to notice a small scar on his cheek, one you hadn´t been able to notice in the curse of a dimly lit place. The more your eyes adjusted to him, so grew your anger at the lighting inside your place of first meeting- it had done an injustice to the man you had already been disgustingly attracted to, stole the wholehearted, inescapable allure of such a mature presence.

The gentleman looks down into your awaiting eyes, only to ask if he may have your number, upon your agreement, he proceeded to tell you that he would be walking you home, wanting you to arrive safely since it must be dangerous for a woman to walk the streets of a party district at 2 am in the morning.

That encounter was four months ago, and only a month after that initial conversation, he had completely taken over you. Swallowed you whole in just how well he treated you.

Insistent of using his black card to buy you anything you remotely showed liking in, dedicated to communication, random flowers that showed up at your office and a constant offer of a ride in his luxurious black mercedes-benz GT63s; no matter how long it took- even if it was a inconvenience, sometimes taking longer to get to you than it would have taken you to simply retort to public transport.

"I told you i´d make it for you, didn´t I baby? hm?" his velvet smooth voice rings, from how he´s standing, with his body pressed against your back, towering over you, you could feel the hardened muscles of his torso meeting you. His large, slim hands reach to either side of your waist, to the glass filled with ice that you´re holding in between your own, gently removing them to resume the task that you were occupied with. Your eyes glance to the bulging of his bicep, that loose, casual tshirt did nothing to hide just how big he had gotten due to his newfound hobby.

you whine- almost, biting down on your lower lip to prevent just that from happening, "thank you gguk" you say, turning to peck the very muscle that´s invading your line of sight. He hums, a low, satisfied sound from the back of his throat.

"c´mere baby" patting one of his muscular thighs, his eyes drift to your figure walking towards him, iced tea in hand, just like he had made it for you. Sweet, light, refreshing, much like your presence in his life. Almost like a sign from the stars that his hearts content was somewhere, bundled in the form of a shorter girl with eyes that could entrance any sailor- far less siren like, no, wide with love and purity. Just what he had yearned for in any women he had met before you-whether tangled in meaningless sheets or involved in a month long, semi serious relationship, Jungkook was yet to cross paths with the one woman that would make him turn so desperate, he would have begged for their happiness on his knees. It might be romantic, even a tad dramatic to admit that from the very first word that left your pink glossed lips, he knew better than anyone else that he was in deep, deep trouble. Upon seeing the curve of your waist, hearing that soft, lulling voice, that embarrassingly obvious fact only intensified after finding out just how delightful you truly were, it made him want to rip his hair out- do anything in the possibility of his grip to see even a glimpse of your smile, of that lighthearted, cheerful giggle you let out regularly. He was drawn in my your feminine nature, by the way you let yourself fall into his caring embrace.

He´s quickly directed back to reality as soon as your legs make it to either side of the thigh he had patted earlier, a familiar position for this equally familiar occasion. Muscle memory sets in for him, grabbing the large karaoke remote to hand to you while he turns the microphone on. "Can you sing something to me first?" the question sets his bunny smile off, nodding instantly "Sure love, chose a song for me" he says. Your mind floods with ideas, but you settle for a song you´ve heard him hum millions of times, mindlessly going about.

"Malibu nights?", jungkook questions excitedly while the instrumental sets in, he knew the answer, but his heart swelled with joy at the notice you took to this song. After all, he loved to sing. Another layer to him that has you melting, growing into the embodiment of love that is endlessly cherishing what little fractions were revealed to your eyes in each fleeting moment. His honey voice reaches beautiful highs and lows you can only compare to something angelically otherworldly in nature.

It made you want to know just how deep he could growl, how far his sounds can drop with the dirty nothings you would love to have whispered in your ear. You felt filthy for letting your mind wander to such extends when all he did was sing, lulling you into drunken harmony with him. Still, you consciously lean back into his body, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, encircling it with his vanilla oak scent.

During the past four months, you were doomed to have to shatter his hopes, reveal the truth that somehow felt shameful ; that you´re fully untouched. Nothing further than a bad makeout had yet graced your skin, it made you feel even smaller admitting something so vulnerable to a man that carries almost an entire decade of experience more. Much to your comfort, his hands found the curve of your cheeks immediately, telling you that there is nothing to be embarrassed about, he would hand you the full control, you set the pace.

Internally, Jungkook drooled at the idea that the woman of his dreams was to have her first, the most memorable, sexual encounter with him. Your body belonged to him, devoted to only remember the touch of his lips, the curve of his cock, how he would mold you to his shape without the intrusion of another man having tried the same. Not that he would have wanted you any less if that had not been the case, but for one time in your relationship, he was oh so selfish to want you all to himself, aroused that your first person induced orgasm was going to be his and his alone. The prophecy fulfilled when on one, alcohol induced night a week ago, two of his long, tattooed digits made their entrance into your tight hole, relentlessly filling you until your soft thighs shook, until after your third high, he licked his fingers clean and let you taste yourself on his tongue.

The tunes get lost in silence, he sets the microphone down, having felt the warmth of your mound beneath the tights while you tried to subtly gain friction, scooting back on him. His palms find your thighs, tightly flushed around his muscle. They´re shamelessly wandering up and down the thin material that prevents his hot, calloused fingers from feeling up your smooth skin.

"Wanna do that again, love?" jungkook mutters, his pillowed lips latch on to your exposed neck, right at the gentle curve that paints the beginning of your shoulder, soft, faint kisses that leave a trail of barely sounding sighs behind.

"Do what?" feigning innocence to avoid internal humiliation, you ask him, knowing he wouldn´t let it go, not until you told him to. The sound of his husky chuckle sounds right on the sweetspot of your neck, he sucks a little harder, encouraging you with the constant rub to your thighs. Instinctively, the heat inside your panties grows as do the intensity of your desperate moans, your hips push back on his thigh, seeking the solidity that grants you the portion of satisfaction your needy button longed for

"that" he simply says, having found an anchor in your hips now, your plaid skirt bunches around his hands, slowly- tortuously so when met with the deliberate little humps he helps you to complete on him. You practically whimper once his tongue glides across your skin, dragging from your shoulder, up your neck, intertwined with his open mouth, loud kisses that don´t seem to stop.

"that´s it... do you even know how cute you sound?" he smiles, and you feel it, you feel the smile rise to his lips with every additional kiss, every noise you grant the hungry male. "gguk, wanna see you" you whine- the high pitched noise has him twitching in his training joggers, semi errect but about to stand stiff, just as noticeably as that night seven days ago, having formed a huge tent inside his slacks, there was no hiding his attraction, no use to conceal his utter need for you.. nor his size, not that he would be capable to anyways.

To your request, he helps you turn around, now facing that dim glow on your slightly embarrassed features, taking note of how you nibble on your lip with every grind forward, "that feel good sweet girl?" he asks, ghosting his lips over yours faintly, just enough to see how much you need it, "mhm.. really good" you mumble back, chasing after his lips that he can't deny you of any longer, the kiss is gentle, but nourishes your heat further

"wanna feel even better?" the pit in your lower abdomen grows at the tone of his voice, something much stronger is seeping through his system, something that screams dominance, you nod- naturally wanting to get lost in it. Jungkook's hands stop assisting you, instead, they take to your shirt, "can i take this off of you baby?" he waits for that little hum of yours before swiftly tugging it away from your form

It's almost frightening how quickly your mind reverts back to wanting to run away and hide, your arms fly across your chest, everything you felt so good doing stops and he stops too,

"don't hide, you're perfect, you're so fucking sexy" his eyes trace your skin, hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your arms away, revealing your chest hugged into your bra, and jungkook almost forgets how to breathe properly,

he groans- groans that delicious deep noise that makes your head spin, even more so when you feel his appreciation for your body, hands pulling you closer by the waist so can bury his head into your cleavage. "so beautiful" he mutters, darting his tongue out to lick the slit between your tits, "wanna touch all over you, make you feel so good" he says, finding the clasp on your back to open it with one hand. a silent reminder of his experience, one you did not have in the slightest but somehow, it felt even better that way

"mh.. feels good gguk" you can't help but moan at the forgein sensation, his lips wrap around your hardend nipple, groaning sweetly while he sucks on it, carefully swiping his tongue over the little nub- your other breast is securely fitted into his palm, thumb playing with it just like he does with his mouth, mirroring every little flick

"feels so good doesn't it? you smell so good baby" his lips move to do the same to your other breast, switching sides with a trail of saliva sticking to his lips,

In that moment you feel so sensitive, so lost in his secure hold and at the same time, so small in his skillful dominance that you simply relish in the feeling, grinding your soaked core into his thigh over and over, long, hasty drags over his muscle while his lips work magic on your skin, squeezing a little tighter, sucking a little harder because every stuttered whimper fuels his urge to take care of you

"that's it baby.. keep going, you're so good" your hands find his dark chocolate locs, threading through it with the need to ground yourself. it feels as though every time your clit meets him, instead of getting you closer to sensational relief it adds to the ache, feeds into your desire to take and take more of him, be consumed by his strength

"want this off please" your excited fingers fiddle with the hem of his oversized shirt, earning a smug grin from your boyfriend as he detaches from you, discarding of his top

Although you have seen him shirtless before, it's impossible not to salivate at the sight, at his toned broad torso that curves into a unfairly small waist, large arms flexing when he reaches for your tits again, massaging them once more,

"like what you see pretty?" he says, teasingly cocking his head and biting at the metal ring on the corner of his lip, you blush- the slick drools out even more between your thighs, "so hot gguk, annoyingly hot" he chuckles, joining the sound with your airy giggle, but he sucks in a breath as soon as you shift in his lap, now fully straddling him, naked chest pressed to his with your head burried in his neck, "hmm.. what are you up to baby?" his hands find your back, soothing himself not to pounce on you because the strain in his pants is staggering his breath, your errect nipples are rubbing against his skin and it´s making him shiver, desperate, oh so desperate for you

but he knows all to well not to overwhealm your sweet, virgin body, to let you take all the time you need until he can feel every breath of your submission

"wanna feel you gguk, can i?" jungkook almost purrs at how innocently you ask, suppressing the need to grind his hips into your heat from below, "of course baby, anything you want. it's all yours"

he meant it, every vein cursing through his body belongs to you, working, pumping blood through him for the sole purpose of loving you, taking care of you. "all mine?" you hum, aroused by the confidence he emitts, your hands trace up his torso, creating a small distance between your bodies to feel up the hard lines on his abdomen with laboured breath of your own, lips finding every small patch of his neck that make him hum, make his sighs of pleasure slowly turn into groans "all yours my love" the answer wasn't necessary, not when you already started to leave traces of you on his skin, faint, red bruises on his neck that he's impatiently waiting to run around with

"you feel so fucking good, need to feel more of you, will you let me sweet girl?" his words are intoxicating, washing away any doubt or fear and replacing it with a intense craving of sexual desire "please gguk i'm so wet for you" the sound reaches his ears and shuts down his entire system, his hands carelessly rip down your skirt and stockings, leaving you in those tiny grey boyshorts that he looses his mind over "baby how did you hide all this from me?" his hands caress your thighs, your hips, up your waist and to the soft flesh of your stomach with hungry, insatiable eyes that long for a taste of your every inch

"all yours" you mimic him, sounding just like him with your sultry, shy voice, already wanting to remove his own bottoms which he catches on, ridding himself of the nuisance "yeah, all mine. this is all mine" he says, smiling softly

Your drenched underwear meets his errection as he pulls you back on his lap, hands sitting on your waist, you look so vulnerable- almost fragile in his grip, shyly moaning because the curve of his cock presses into your skin like it was molded for you, needy folds clinging to your underwear and your clit throbs- throbs begging for another taste of friction

"I don't know how to do any of this" he suddenly he hears you mumble, seeing how you're playing with your fingers that sit on his lower abdomen, your head is turned to them, a slight pout decorates your features

jungkook feels the need to sob- to take away whatever is making that pretty head of yours feel so threatened even though you're the best thing he has ever felt, the only person he ever wants to lay his hands on ever again

"that's okay baby, hey, look at me for a second will you?" you comply, craving his lead, his security to catch you, most of all that gentle, masculine dominance that floods your senses effortlessly

"you're doing so so well pretty, you don't have to worry okay? i'll take you through it, make you feel so good" he says, cupping your cheeks in his palms while sitting up a little to press kisses to your nose, your forhead, your lips and cheeks,

unable to contain your smile, you nod, gaining back the heartbeat in your willing feminity to let him take care of you, "thank you baby" you say with upmost honesty, pressing your lips to his in a kiss of adoration

"mhm.. come on, let's get this off of you love" his whipers lingers on you, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear before pulling it off your lifted legs, he moans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick attached to the cloth and glistening over your feminity

"so beautiful, do you even realize how lucky i am? how thankful i am that this sweet, sweet girl is all mine to love?" he says softly, so softly that your eyes gloss a little bit, feeling so utterly vulnerable in front of him, so sexy in the most feminine way possible. blush creeps up your cheeks, his hands find your inner thigh, dancing around the sensitive skin "you're too sweet gguk"

he returns your smiles, lifting your hand to kiss it before intertwining it with his own, lacing his fingers into you because being apart from your body feels like torture in this moment. but you're eyes are busied elsewhere, locked on the large outline that stands rock solid insides of his calvins, a small, wet patch that indicates his arousal decorating the very top

"go ahead baby, take it off" not needing to be told twice, you help yourself to his boxers, tugging them down in one, slow motion that leaves him biting his bottom lip, he pushes them down to his ankles, kicking them off

both of you sit like this for a moment that feels like eternity, raw, bare and without a chance to hide in front of the other's desperate gaze, comfort, pure love that's inseparable with a pulsing you can no longer ignore, not when he´s so big, so broad and decorated with a vein alongside his curved shaft

he grabs at the flesh of your ass, pulling you to sit your gushing cunt over his stiff length, cursing at feeling how soft you are, how much arousal truly spills from your body

"you're so.. big gguk.. m'scared" your whine makes him coo, stroking your head while a possessive grip that stays on your hip, his left hand tethering to your hair in the meantime, "don't be, you were made for me sweet girl, made for it" your head falls to his shoulder, arching your torso into his body with a small hump to his leaking cock, "that's right baby, feel it, feel how hard i am for you" spurred on by his encouragement, you tighten your hands on his bicep, rolling your hips over his, his entire shaft is coated in your essence, angry pink tip meeting your swollen clit repeatedly, so much so you feel your thighs shake, feel an impending orgasm waiting to flow over your body,

Ripping yourself of that sensation, not yet- you tell yourself

"want it gguk, want it so bad" jungkook hums, kissing your neck messily, cock throbbing beneath you, "want what pretty? talk to me" he says, his own desire to claim you all to himself becomes unbareable with each passing second that you stay put

You shift forward again, whining, "please gguk" he groans, twitching at how desperate you sound, entranced with how needy you've become for him, he didn't even have to make you beg for it, you just did

effortlessly perfect for him, "come on, tell me my love" but he has to hear more, he needs to hear the dirty confession falling from your pure lips

"want your cock jungkook, please" there it is- that submissive, whiny plead for him, it makes him feel alive, throwing his head back on the black leather couch momentarily "good girl, fuck baby you're so cute" he praises, taking the base of his cock into his hand but something stalls him, "do you want me to eat you out first? make it nice and slippery?" his teeth graze your ear, kissing over the shell of it, "no gguk i want it, want it now"- another nibble, "anything for you"

Your hips lift, hovering your tight, clenching hole over his thick manhood, hands sweaty and grasping at his firm shoulders, he spots your anxiety, wishing nothing more but to ease it

"sit down on it baby, it's gonna sting okay? but you're so good, I know you can take it" more, more reassuring words that you drink in, just as you sink down on it, wincing as your brows meet in frustration

"hurts.." you mutter, fingers digging into his tanned skin- you can't bring yourself to move down further, clenching your muscle tightly around only his fat tip that feels like it's splitting your drooling pussy open. his hands find your back again, "ssh baby.. i know... but you'e such a good girl, i know you can take every inch of my cock"

It takes a couple more kisses to your shoulder for you to sink down fully on his length, painfully so- having your hands claw into him, your lips trembling in confusion of why it feels so good to have him stuffed into you so deeply you can feel it inside your tummy, stretching into every crevice of your gummy walls. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, fulfilling, deep pressure that you could get lost in- bathe in

Jungkooks feelings have synchronized with yours- he's unsure where you end or where he begins but you're clamped down on his cock, your skin already wet with sweat as it sticks to his unforgivingly, moans and shaky breaths fill in the silence, a unspoken question lingers, awaits for you to answer it

until you do, taking his large hands to your hips before pressing yours against his full pecks, a glint of confidence spites your eyes that makes jungkook want to hear you cry out his name over and over again

"oh fuck- baby you-" you whine, rolling your hips forward, mouth parted when you feel him move inside of you, slolwy, deeply "that's it my love, take your time, so sexy like this" his voice is far from stable, you moan again- the grinding becomes faster, assisted by his hands that pull you onto him just the way you like it- just like he said, you have it all, its all yours

"what- what if you can't come?" he needs to contain a laugh at that- the question is so absurd to him, so unimaginable that it makes him slightly angry why you couldn't understand that he could cum from seeing you alone, from one kiss to your chaste lips- he's already twitching at how sloppy, how loud your cunt is around him

"I almost came from seeing how needy that little pussy of yours is, you feel how hard i am don't you? all because of you baby" he mutters in response, you flourish at it, getting familiar with the grinding motion but you need more, you deserve more- so you start bouncing on him- up and down, slamming your own, curved hips down onto him. he's mesmerized by your pleasure, watching how your brows are knitted, how your lips leak with drool and airy moans, how your tits bounce- he gropes at them, cupping them greedily, his hands itch for your skin, for you to let yourself go on him

"good girl.. look at you, a natural at riding my cock- don't even need my help" you shake, exhaustion already growing in your eager hips but you cannot stop, you don´t want to stop taking every inch of his cock back into you, lifting your hips only to take him back in, "you're filling me so much" you moan into his mouth, having formed a unity with his lips that welcome you like home, "just like that pretty, little humps for me" he mumbles back, interlacing his tongue with yours

he tugs at your nipples with his inked fingers, reciprocrating the moaning, he mirrors you, throbs when you clench, explores your mouth when you part for him impatiently. it leaves you to no choice but to become his own reflection, your hips ground themselves in a stable rhythm as your fingertips roll over his own nipples, unexpectedly he whimpers, bites down into your shoulder cautiously

"That's it baby, driving me fucking crazy" he grinds his hips up into you, unlocking a feeling of bliss that leads you to errupt into pornographic moans, your hand flings to muffle them, eyes rolling back into your skull,

Jungkook is making love to you, letting you reach a state you would not have been able to imagine, not even in the slightest when all you have ever felt are your fingers hastily, uncoordinated on your bundle of nerves. still, he can feel you´re holding back, afraid to be loud- to take up space, but he's having none of it

"Dont be embarrassed sweet girl, you sound addicting, so cute, give me every little noise" sinful sensuality floods you with his encouragement, "gonna make you cum for me, deserve it don't you think?" you don't- in fact, you can't think, long gone into pleasure while his hips piston into you from below,

he slaps your clit gently, your walls clench from how good that feels, "i asked you something baby" he repeats, distracted by your droopy eyes that threaten to shut him out at any moment, "answer me sweet thing, do you deserve to cum hm?" he taunts, rutting his hips with a slower but harder motion, force that hits your g-spot- reels you back into the moment, you head moves frantically "yes, yes please i need to cum"

Jungkook groans in satisfaction, "that's right.. best little cunt, all mine" he goes back lapping at your chest, licking his way to any patch of skin that your addictive smell lurs him to- he feels all over your skin, sneaking his fingers to where your bodies morph into one so he can draw tight circles on your clit, stimulating you to cry out his name,

"Jungkook.. i- i can't stop it i-" you stutter, thighs tensing around him, the feeling is so overwhealming that you can't keep your head up, can't warn him more than that since you're already letting your dew sprinkle out- letting the shocks roll over your body

"just like that.. make a mess on my cock baby, you did so well, come for me" he rasps, his heavy balls release into your tightness at the thought that crosses his mind- the knowledge that he had made you orgasm, that your virginity belonged to him solely,

It embraces the both of you, fills you with a sense of euphoria that none of you wish to end

As the high washes over you, you break out into a small shudder, aware of his milky cum that splurts your walls white, aware of the oversensitive area between your legs that jungkook's fingers slowly stop touching, landing to your unstable and sore thighs instead.

his heavy breathing is woven into yours, contrasting how slowly, lazily he manages to caress your naked skin, finding comfort in your warm body

the small whisper of his name catches him off guard, he hums, pulling back to cup your face, "are you okay my love? feel good?" his eyes rank over your tired features, glowing before his very own eyes,

"so okay. I love you" you breathe out, pressing a kiss to his button nose,

"I love you too baby, so proud of you" his nose nuzzles against yours, "you were so so good"

your shy giggle lights up his face like it always does, "thank you.. for taking my virginity... felt so good" you mumble with your bottom lip tucked away between your teeth- it awakens his soft- still nestled cock, his hands grip your ass- feeling the flesh spill beneath his fingers "thank you for your trust baby, but god, you're gonna make me lose it" jungkook says into your neck, nose tracing the delicate line of your shoulder,

"why? is it too much?" unbeknownst to you, Jungkook rolls his eyes in annoyance, how could you be so fucking adorable?

"Let me show you why" he answers, making your head perk up a little,

"Wanna lay down for me pretty? I can give you another one, as many as you want. You deserve it, wanna spoil you, fuck i wanna give you everything you want" faintly audible as he's speaking into your skin, having already laid you down onto the cold cushions of his unreasonably expensive leather couch.

[soulicious]

I do not desire mediocre love. I was made for possession, obsession and devotion.

[kooklovee]

Claimed (m) - Myg

"The only Min you'll ever get is this one."

Pairing - Yoongi x Reader

Genre - smut 18+, established relationship au, MDNI

Oneshot - 5k words

Warnings - yoongi's brother's reception, secret relationship, yoongi's aunt wants to set reader for her son🤪, jealous yoongi, Explicit smut - Hard dom yoongi, sub reader, chocking, mirror sex, unprotected sex, degradation, man handling, fingering, face fucking, spiting in mouth, edging, crying, hair pulling, marking

a/n - hi n byee🫣

divider credit - @uzmacchiato

Masterlist kofi

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The Min family estate is breathtaking, especially tonight. The glow of fairy lights, the grand chandeliers, with laughter and music filling the air.

You step out of the car, adjusting the delicate fabric of your dress. With one final glance at your reflection in the tinted window, you reach for your phone, fingers gliding over the screen.

You: just reached. where are you?

It takes only a few seconds before your boyfriend replies.

Yoon: 2nd floor. Left side of the hall

The moment you step inside it's filled with the scent of fresh flowers and expensive cologne. Your lips curve slightly as you push through the crowd, eyes scanning the space.

It doesn't take long for you to find him.

Min Yoongi, standing near the far end of the ballroom, eyes already locked onto you like a magnet.

He’s dressed in a tailored black suit, crisp and perfect. One hand is tucked into his pocket while the other lazily holds a glass of whiskey, but it’s his eyes that hold you captive.

Those dark eyes roam over you, starting from the waves of your hair down to the delicate curve of your neckline. They trail lower, taking in the way your dress hugs every inch of your body. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips ever so slightly, making heat crawl up your skin.

Your phone buzzes again.

Yoon: You look beautiful

You bite your lip, glancing at him beneath your lashes.

You: And you look like trouble

The corner of his lips twitches, and even from across the room, you see the slight shake of his head.

A familiar voice calls your name.

“Finally! We were starting to think you weren’t coming.”

You turn to see your friends waving you over. You weave through the crowd smiling, and join them, instantly enveloped in chatter.

Taehyung’s already halfway through his drink, Jimin’s adjusting his blazer and Hoseok is grinning at you.

“You look stunning,” Jimin remarks. “Bet someone over there is losing his mind right now,” he says, giving you a knowing smirk.

You roll your eyes, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. “Would you shut up?”

“Oh, come on,” Hoseok teases.

You can't deny though, because you can feel it too. Yoongi’s gaze.

“Must be so hard pretending you two aren’t together,” Taehyung adds, sighing dramatically. “Poor Yoongi hyung, watching you like a lovesick fool but having to act all cool and composed.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “We’ll tell his parents when we’re ready.”

And that’s the truth. His family is traditional, full of expectations, while Yoongi never cared much for their opinions. But still, you asked to wait before telling them. And he agreed, because this decision was yours to make together.

A fresh round of laughter pulls you from your thoughts, and you join in easily.

“Yoongi hyung!” Taehyung exclaims a bit dramatic, grinning as he lifts his glass.

Yoongi huffs, sliding effortlessly, his fingers grazing your waist just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to be noticed by anyone else. His way of saying hi when he can’t say it out loud.

He just leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, just for you to hear, “You do look beautiful.”

And just like that, you’re gone.

----

The function moves along in a blur of clinking glasses, lively conversations. Yoongi -ever the reluctant center of attention, eventually takes the stage for a speech. His voice carrying warmth as he speaks about his brother and new beginnings.

And then, as quickly as he appeared, he’s swept away, pulled into conversations that demand his time- relatives, business associates.

Meanwhile, you remain with your friends. Jimin recounts a particularly embarrassing memory from their younger days, making Taehyung groan dramatically. Easy laughter fills amongst you.

After some time, you make your way toward the drinks table, the glass in your hand nearly empty. As you tilt your glass for a refill, a voice almost too-sweet cuts through the noise.

“My, my… such a lovely young woman all alone at the drinks table?”

You glance up, meeting the keen eyes of a lady, dressed in an elegant hanbok.

“You must be close to the Min family,” she continues, stepping beside you, her smile never faltering. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking yet.”

Your fingers pause around the stem of your glass, momentarily confused. You’re certain you’ve never seen her before. Not the few gatherings that you've attended along with your mutual friends, neither in any of the rare photos Yoongi has shared with you. But still, you offer a polite smile and a slight bow in greeting.

“Ah.. I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” you say. “But it’s lovely to meet you.”

She lets out an amused laugh, “Oh, dear, that’s because I don’t visit often,” she says, waving a delicate hand. “But I am part of the family. Yoongi’s aunt.”

Your grip on your glass tightens just slightly. Yoongi’s aunt. You nod politely, offering a small smile. “Oh, I see. It’s nice to meet you. I'm Han Y/n.”

She hums, eyes scanning you in a way that feels far too observant. “I noticed you earlier with Yoongi’s friends,” she says, taking a delicate sip of her drink. “You seem quite close to them.”

“They’re good friends of mine,” you reply keeping your tone light.

She hums again, a knowing glint in her eyes. “You’re quite a lovely girl. Well-mannered, and beautiful too.” Her voice is warm, almost too sweet. “It’s a shame someone in the family hasn’t snatched you up already.”

You blink, caught slightly off guard by her sudden comment. “Oh?”

She nods, setting her glass down on the nearby table. “My son, Seojun-ah—my brilliant boy. He just returned from New York a few months ago. Studied and worked there for years. Hardworking boy.” She smiles as she continues, “In my opinion... you two would make a wonderful pair.”

Ah. So that’s where this is going.

You school your expression, forcing a polite smile. “That’s... kind of you to say.”

She leans in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “He’s single, you know. And someone like you—” she gestures vaguely, as if you’re the perfect ideal, “—would be perfect for him.”

You grip your glass a little tighter, willing yourself to stay calm. “That’s flattering,” you reply, carefully measured. “But I’m not really looking for anything like that right now.”

Her smile falters for only a fraction of a second before she recovers, waving a hand. “Oh, nonsense. A woman like you shouldn’t be single for long.” She tilts her head, watching you closely. “Unless, of course... you’re already seeing someone?”

Just as you part your lips to respond, a familiar voice cuts in.

“Auntie, where have you been so long!?”

You turn to see Taehyung, his signature smile already in place as he slides into the conversation.

The aunt’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh, Taehyung! It’s been so long. Look at you! so handsome as always.”

Taehyung grins, “You flatter me, Auntie. Anyways, what’s going on here?”

The woman chuckles, tilting her head toward you. “I was just asking her if she’s single or maybe interested in meeting my son.” Her tone is light with teasing.

“Oh, she’s totally single.”

Your head snaps toward him, eyes widening in silent betrayal. He doesn’t even try to hide the amusement in his gaze.

The aunt's face lights up with excitement at Taehyung’s words. “Really? That’s wonderful!” She claps her hands together, already looking around. “Let me introduce you to Seojun. He must be here somewhere.”

Your heart stutters, a flicker of panic rising in your chest. Shit.

You shoot Taehyung a murderous glare, but the bastard only sips his drink, eyes glinting with pure mischief. You know he’s enjoying this way too much.

“That’s really not necessary—” You start, voice edged with nervous laughter, but the aunt isn’t even listening. Her eyes scan the ballroom eagerly, as if his son will magically appear at any moment.

“Well, this sounds like a lovely setup, but I promised someone a dance,” Taehyung, your so-called friend is already retreating with a shit-eating grin. “Have fun, you two!”

Your glare could burn holes through him, but he’s gone before you can protest. Your fingers tighten around your glass. You need to find a way out of this. Fast.

“There he is! Seojun-ah!” The aunt’s delighted voice rings out as she waves eagerly.

Your stomach drops as a man maybe around Yoongi's age, turns toward the call, eyes narrowing in confusion before he approaches.

He’s tall, well-dressed, and honestly quite handsome, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that you know exactly what’s happening, and by the look on his face when his mother introduces you, so does he.

"This is Y/n, sweetheart!” his mother exclaims, practically radiating excitement. “Such a lovely girl. You two should chat, I have a feeling you’ll get along very well.”

“I’ll leave you to it! No need to thank me,” she's disappearing into the crowd before either of you can react.

Seojun chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I know what my mom’s trying to do..” His eyes flicker with mild embarrassment before he sighs. “Sorry if she made you uncomfortable. You really don’t have to entertain this.”

He seems genuinely shy, his words coming out in a rushed ramble as he struggles to navigate the awkward situation.

You offer him a small smile, trying to ease his nerves. "I wasn’t expecting it, but..” You glance around briefly, hoping for an escape. “She seems too... enthusiastic?”

Seojun lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “That’s one way to put it.” He takes a sip of his drink, still looking slightly mortified. “She’s been on this matchmaking spree lately. Thinks it’s her life’s mission to get me married off.”

You chuckle at that.

Meanwhile, across the ballroom, Yoongi strides back toward your group, his gaze scanning for you instinctively. But a frown tugs at his lips.

“Where is she?”

Jimin and Hoseok exchange glances, poorly hiding their amused smirks. Taehyung, however, doesn’t bother to hold back his laughter.

“Oh, hyung,” he drawls, draping an arm over Yoongi’s shoulder dramatically. “Your dear girlfriend is currently on her way to becoming your sister-in-law.”

Jimin finally loses it, chuckling as he nods toward the far side of the room. “One of your aunts decided she’d be the perfect match for Seojun.”

Hoseok chimes in, shaking his head. “She just pulled her aside like it was fate.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker towards where you stand. The moment he spots you, with Seojun, no less, looking all polite and engaged in conversation and that makes something sharp coils in his chest.

His fingers flex, tightening around his wine glass, an odd heat creeping up his spine.

It’s irrational, really. He knows you. Knows you’re probably just being your usual, kind self. But the fact that someone else—some other man—is standing in front of you, looking at you like you’re something to consider, doesn’t sit well with him.

Seojun is laughing lightly, and you’re chuckling too—chuckling.

“Hyung,” Taehyung drawls, watching the way his expression darkens. “You good?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, face almost unreadable as he downs the rest of his drink in one smooth motion.

You offer Seojun a polite smile, searching for a way to wrap this up without seeming rude. "It was nice talking to you, but I should get back to my friends," you say lightly.

Seojun, still a little flustered from the situation his mother put him in, nods quickly. "Oh, of course! Yeah, no worries," he says, "Enjoy the rest of the night."

You give him a small nod before turning away as relief washes over you. The moment you step closer to your group, the playful energy among them is unmistakable.

Taehyung is already smirking ready to tease, but before he can open his mouth, you shoot him a glare that makes him chuckle instead.

“So, how was your first meeting with your future husband?”

You shoot him a dry look. “Shut up.”

Jimin snickers beside you. “You two really did look good together, though.”

You roll your eyes, shifting slightly on your feet. Yoongi sets his drink down and just as you open your mouth, “Yoongi—”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he simply mutters, “Excuse me,” and turns away, heading toward a group of guests like nothing just happened.

Huh?

Did he just.. walk away? Just like that?

You stare at his retreating back, your lips parting slightly in disbelief. This man. You weren’t even the one who dragged yourself into that conversation with the guy. It’s not like you were flirting! If Yoongi’s gonna be all broody and distant over something that wasn’t even your fault—

You huff, crossing your arms. If he wants to play the ignoring game, so will you.

The lights dim, the dance floor filled with soft music. Even Yoongi’s parents share a brief dance, their laughter blending with the sweet ambiance of the evening.

Yet, Yoongi still hasn’t spoken to you since he left. Not that you care.

The crowd stands watching, some cheering for the dancing couples. Just as you shift, thinking about moving elsewhere, someone stumbles into you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the person says quickly. You turn to see Seojun, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before he chuckles.

“It’s okay,” you say, offering a small smile. He seems like he’s about to excuse himself when you hear a very familiar voice beside him.

“Oh my! I knew it!” she exclaims excitedly. “You two were bound to click!”

Your stomach drops.

She's already nudging her son towards you.

“Ask her to dance!” she insists, practically beaming.

Your eyes widen slightly, panic bubbling up. How the hell do you keep finding yourself in these situations tonight?

He almost pleads with his eyes for his mother to let it go, but she remains insistent, nudging both of you onto the dance floor.

Realizing there’s no way out, Seojun clears his throat, his shyness giving way to a small smile.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks.

Your heart beats faster—definitely not from excitement but from sheer disbelief at how the night keeps unfolding.

Yoongi was busy handling some final wedding details when Namjoon nudges his arm.

"Isn't that Y/n?"

Yoongi’s eyes flicker towards the dance floor, scanning the crowd until they land on you.

And just like that, his entire demeanor shifts.

There you were, on the dance floor. With Seojun. His arm lightly placed on your waist while your hand rested in his. Yoongi watched as you let out a small laugh, though your body language still seemed slightly stiff. That didn’t matter.

The sight of you with someone else was enough to make something simmer inside him.

"Damn…you look like you’re about to murder someone." Namjoon chuckled.

"Shut up, Joon."

Your laughter fades slightly, and almost instinctively, as your eyes flicker over to Yoongi’s.

The second your gazes meet, your breath catches. His darkened eyes are locked onto you. Even from across the room, the weight of his stare is suffocating. His grip on his drink is tight, jaw clenched. You can practically feel the tension radiating off him.

Seojun says something with a chuckle, "I don't think we've had a formal introduction, I'm Min Seojun—"

But you barely register it. Your heartbeat picks up, and suddenly you’re hyperaware of everything. The placement of Seojun’s hand, the closeness of the dance, the way Yoongi’s expression darkens further with each passing second.

You take a deep breath, deciding you’ve had enough. You quickly scan the crowd, searching for Yoongi's aunt, hoping she’s wandered off elsewhere. When you don’t spot her, you take it as your cue to end this.

Slipping out of Seojun’s light hold, you step back offering him a polite but firm smile. “I'm sorry, I think I should leave—”

You turn before finishing, weaving your way through the mass of people to find an open space away from the dance floor. The air feels cooler here, giving you a brief moment to collect yourself. Just as you exhale, a hand wraps around your wrist.

“Y/n,” Seojun’s voice is gentle as he calls out, his grip enough to make you turn around.

“I… are you free this weekend?” he asks suddenly, his voice steady despite the slight pink dusting his cheeks.

You blink, completely taken aback.

The last thing you expected was for him to ask you out. Your lips part, ready to form a rejection—

But you don’t get the chance.

Because before you can even utter a word, another hand snatches yours away from Seojun’s grasp.

“She’s not.”

Your breath catches as you whip your head around, your wide eyes meeting Yoongi’s. His fingers are wrapped securely around your hand. His jaw is clenched, the muscle ticking as his stormy gaze remains locked onto Seojun.

The voice was filled with an unmistakable edge which startles Seojun, clearly caught off guard. His gaze flickers between the two of you, slowly processing the situation—the way Yoongi's hand hold yours.

“Oh…okay,” Seojun mutters after a beat, letting out a slight awkward chuckle. His eyes dart to you once more, lingering for a second before he turns back to Yoongi.

“See ya around, Hyung,” he says, forcing a half-smile before finally stepping away.

You glance up at your boyfriend, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yoongi—”

“Don't."

Yoongi’s grip on your wrist is possessive as he tugs you through the crowd. Your heart pounds in your chest, the buzz of music and laughter fading into the background as he leads you down the dimly lit hallway.

His silence is deafening, the tension in the air between you growing further.

“Yoongi—” You try to call his name, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look back. His fingers tighten around your wrist just enough to make you swallow your words. You don’t know if it’s jealousy, anger, or something deeper that’s driving him right now.

A door swings open, and Yoongi pulls you inside. Turning you around and pressing you against the slammed door.

“You think this is funny?”

His arms cage you in, palms flat beside your head as he leans in. His breath is warm against your skin, but there’s nothing soft about the way he speaks.

Your voice wavers slightly. “Yoongi.. I - your aunt forced us to dance—”

“Forced you?” he repeats, his tone laced with disbelief, his dark gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes. “Did she force you to smile at him too? To let him touch you?”

“It wasn’t like that,” you say quickly, your hands pressing lightly against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. His body is warm, and his scent fucking intoxicating.

Yoongi scoffs, his fingers curling against the door beside your head. “Then what was it like, huh?” His voice is lower now, rough with something unreadable. “Because from where I stood, it sure as hell looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

You blink up at him, your heart hammering. “You know I didn't mean it any other way,” you defend, your voice softer now.

Yoongi exhales sharply through his nose, his tongue swiping over his lower lip in frustration.

You barely get his name out before his lips crash onto yours, cutting off whatever you were about to say. A shocked gasp escapes you, but he doesn’t give you a second to process as his hands grip your waist, pulling you impossibly close as his lips move against yours with almost a punishing force.

Your fingers tighten around his blazer. His body presses against yours. The kiss is fiery, nothing like the gentle ones he’s given you before.

His teeth graze your lower lip, and you whimper softly, your knees nearly buckling.

Yoongi growls lowly at the sound, one of his hands sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face so he can deepen the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs, making your head spin.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice low, as he growls.

You look up at him, panting softly, yet eyes laced with something playful. You’ve never seen Yoongi this worked up. In all the years you’ve been together, he’s always been the calm one. But fuck, seeing him loose his cool, it’s turning you on more than you care to admit.

“Didn’t know you could be this jealous,” you murmur a breathless whisper meant to provoke.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow, his jaw ticking.

“Don’t test me, princess,” he breathes, his voice low with warning as his hand slowly wraps around your throat, enough to make you feel the warmth.

“You don’t want to play with fire.”

Your breath hitches at the sensation, but the way your thighs clench in response betrays your thoughts.

“But I want to,” you whisper.

And just like that, the last thread of restraint snaps within Yoongi.

Yoongi’s breath fans against your ear as he leans in, voice like gravel. “You asked for it.”

A low groan rumbles from deep in his chest as he tugs you to the mirror counter, spinning you around, pressing his body flush against yours.

His hands grip the zipper of your dress, yanking it down roughly. The fabric pools at your feet, leaving you standing there in your panties and bra. You catch your breath, eyes wide as his hungry gaze roams over you.

He bends you forward over the counter, one hand steadying your waist. Then, with a ruthless flick, he shoves your panties down, tearing them in the process.

You gasp sharply, “Yoongi!”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

His fingers already dig inside you, rough, stroking deep and fast. You moan his name, your body arching involuntarily against the counter.

He curls his fingers, pressing that perfect spot inside you while his thumb rubs fiercely over your clit. The sensations swirl and crash through you. Your fingers tangle into his long hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you moan his name, breathless and desperate.

His free hand grips your thigh, keeping you spread open for him. You can’t control the soft cries that slip past your lips, but the sound only makes him work you harder.

Biting down on his shoulder, you try to muffle your moans, he growls, hands gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. “My little slut, aren't you” he hisses, voice dripping with raw possession. “Always soaking wet for me.”

Your moans grow louder, trembling on the edge. He pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you aching and desperate.

“Get on your knees.”

Your legs are wobbly but you obey without hesitation.

He unzips his pants, the sight of him already driving you wild. His cock stands hard and proud, and you feel a fresh rush of heat flood your core.

Yoongi’s gaze never leaves you as he grips himself slowly stroking that make your breath catch.

He cups your chin with another hand tilting your head up.

“Open.” Yoongi leans in, spitting into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, meeting his gaze with a mix of submission and desire.

“Good girl.”

Yoongi’s gaze burns down at you, eyes sharpening as they lock onto yours. His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face up like you belonged to him, because you fucking do.

“You know the safe word, right?”

You swallow hard, nerves and need tangling together as you nod.

He pushes forward, sliding into you with a deliberate force that took your breath away.

His hand finds your hair, fingers threading firmly through the strands, pulling you closer. “Look at you,” he growls under his breath, his hips rolling deeper. “Taking me so well.”

His lips part in a guttural groan, head tilting back.

“Fuck...” he breathed out, voice ragged, “That mouth is made for me, yeah.”

He was claiming you with every thrust, every touch, every breath, and you knew you were exactly where you belonged.

Your throat tightens further with each controlled roll of his hips, the stretch forcing little whimpers from you.

A choked gag slips out as he sinks deeper.

You blink up through watery lashes, lips stretching around him as you look up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.

His own gaze burned into yours.

“Fuck,” he hisses, slipping his cock out.

You gasp at the loss, lips swollen.

You let out a soft, startled sound as he hoists you up onto the cool counter, your back hits the mirror behind the vanity, and Yoongi stands between your thighs.

His palm slide up the inside of your thigh, forcing them open wider.

He drags the swollen head of his cock along your folds, slick with your arousal. His other hand came to your jaw. One deep thrust and you cry out his name, and Yoongi captures it in a messy kiss.

Your gasp was sharp, ripped straight from your lungs as he bottomed out inside you, the stretch making your eyes squeeze shut—but Yoongi didn’t let you hide.

His body was pressed tightly between your thighs, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the steamy glass.

“Look at you,” he growls, thrusting hard, “Fucking dumb on my cock.”

You whimper in response.

“You think anyone else could fuck you like this?” he hisses, lips brushing your ear.

You shook your head frantically, tears finally slipping down your cheeks, “N-No, Yoongi—only you.”

“That’s right,” he growled, pace unrelenting. “You’re mine. This sweet little pussy, all mine."

He grabs your thighs, hoisting you closer to the edge as his thrusts turns downright brutal.

Your head falls back with a sobbed moan, mouth open, drool trailing from the corner of your lips as your walls clenched tighter.

“I—Yoongi, I’m close,” you gasp, voice high and wrecked, each breath punched out of you with the way he slams into you over and over, your thighs trembling around his hips.

Of course he knows. He feels the way you’re fluttering around him, pulling him in, desperate to tip over.

“Not yet,” he growls, voice rough in your ear.

You let out a broken sound, frustration spilling into a sob, your nails digging into his shoulders. But he’s already pulling out, your body twitching from the sudden emptiness.

Yoongi grabs your waist and slides you off the counter.

Your legs barely hold you up as he spins you around, your palms splayed on the mirror, your cheek flushed against the surface. His hand guides your hips back, arching you until you’re right where he wants you.

One ruthless thrust that has your eyes flying open, a loud, helpless moan spilling from your lips. “Fuck,” you cry out, your breath fogging the mirror. “Yoongi—”

His mouth finds your neck, teeth sinking into your skin with a sharp bite that has you clenching around him instantly.

He groans at that, sucking a mark into your skin.

“Mine,” he snarls against your throat.

His hand slides up your chest, your sternum and closes firmly around your throat. His body is burning against yours, muscles tense, heat radiating between you.

“Open your eyes,” he growls.

Your lashes flutter. You look wrecked. Your gaze meets his through the mirror. Yoongi's dark eyes locked onto you, jaw clenched as he rasps against your ear.

“The only Min you’ll ever get is this one.”

You clench around him so hard it makes both of you groan. Your legs buckle, body begging to come undone.

“You wanna come, baby?” he whispers. “Say it.”

The grip on your throat sends heat straight through you. You nod, trembling, as your voice cracks, “Y-Yes, Yoongi please—”

His free hand slides down your front, trailing between your thighs, already soaked and trembling and finds your clit.

Your moan was filthy, echoing off the walls. You couldn't even try to bite it back.

If anyone was outside the door, there’d be no doubt about what was happening in here. The obscene sounds of his hips slamming into you, your cries, was undeniable. Yoongi didn’t care. In fact, it only spurred him on. “Louder,” he hissed into your ear. “Let them fucking hear who owns you.”

His fingers moved in merciless, dragging you faster toward the edge than you could handle.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t think.

Your body trembled so hard it was barely standing, your palms slipping on the mirror as you braced yourself, tears sliding down your flushed cheeks. His cock pounded into you, filling you so deep you swore you felt him everywhere.

You sobbed out his name, gasping.

And Yoongi was right there, mouth at your ear, voice low and dark as sin.

“Come for me, baby. Ruin this mirror. Ruin yourself."

Your orgasm hits you so intense it robs you of breath. Your body locks up, trembling hard around him, and you scream his name like it’s the only word you know, your voice shattering under the force of it. Your walls pulse around him, clenching with desperate rhythm, and he groans.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls through clenched teeth, hips crashing against you one final time. “All mine.”

He buries himself deep spilling inside you with a broken curse.

His forehead drops against the side of your head.

Tears stream down your face from the overwhelming release, legs barely holding you upright.

His cock still twitches inside you.

He slips out of you carefully, catching your body as it slumps forward, cradling you against his chest. His hand rubs soothing circles over your bare back.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, lips brushing your temple. “You did so fucking good. I got you.”

Your tears wet his neck as you try to calm down. His thumb brushes your cheek, catching the tear trails.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

You nod, sniffling as he’s rubs your back.

“I might intentionally piss you off sometime if it gets you like this.” You manage to speak after a moment.

You feel him pause for a second. Then a dangerous chuckle rumbles from his chest, as he looks down at you.

Those dark eyes flicker with something primal, half warning, half promise.

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, as leans in.

“Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Because you know I’ll fucking ruin you all over again.”

Your thighs clench involuntarily. When Min Yoongi says that, you know he means it.

Especially after tonight.

[voyter]

BASED OFF FILM MASTERPOST !

dive into voyters series of jungkook fics inspired by iconic films. grab a snack, get comfortable, and enjoy the show. lights, camera, action.

⌗ prod. @voyter

BETTER THAN YOU

your ex finds out about your new boyfriend, and he’s definitely not happy about it. but your new guy? he’s everything your ex could never be — and more.

⋆✴︎.⁺⊹ gryffindor!jungkook. ravenclaw!reader. hogwarts au. smut.

BASED OFF ... harry potter !

coming soon to a cinema near you.

DEVOTION

your knight is completely devoted to you, and while it’s his duty, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more behind his unwavering loyalty.

⋆✴︎.⁺⊹ knight!jungkook. queen!reader. a song of ice and fire au. 103 AC. smut.

BASED OFF ... house of the dragon !

in theatres now.

BREAK OF DAWN

even though jungkook isn’t the most popular guy on campus, his friends are determined to throw him a birthday party. what starts as a small gathering quickly spirals into something much bigger. rumor has it, the hottest girl in school has a special gift just for him.

⋆✴︎.⁺⊹ nerd!jungkook. popular!reader. college au. smut.

BASED OFF ... project x !

coming soon to a cinema near you.

MIDNIGHT SUSPECT

there’s a thief prowling the night, and jungkook is struggling to catch them. but when he finally discovers the suspect’s identity, he finds it even harder to turn you in to the police.

⋆✴︎.⁺⊹ spiderman!jungkook. blackcat!reader. spiderman au. smut.

BASED OFF ... spiderman !

coming soon to a cinema near you.

NEW RECRUIT

the band is already solid, but yoongi insists they could be even better with you in the lineup. however, jungkook isn’t too thrilled about the newest addition to the group.

⋆✴︎.⁺⊹ singer!jungkook. singer!reader. enemies to lovers. 1970s au. band au. smut.

BASED OFF ... daisy jones & the six !

coming soon to a cinema near you.

BREAKING THE CODE

it was always an unspoken rule: never go after your friend’s ex. but you just couldn’t resist. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her… right?

⋆✴︎.⁺⊹ best friends ex. forbidden love. college au. smut.

BASED OFF ... euphoria !

coming soon to a cinema near you.

© voyter, all rights reserved.

[citrustan]

killah (jjk) [series masterlist]

pairing: managing partner lawyer!jungkook x rich, spoiled brat!reader x (the slightest bit of) senior partner! redacted

summary: you wanted jeon jungkook the moment you laid eyes on him. the fact that he had a girlfriend wasn't going to stop you though.

genre: strangers/lowkey one sided enemies to lovers?? idk bec you irk him. angst, smut, fluff. infidelity (jungkook has a girlfriend so yk you can fill in the blank :p)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ moodboard + moodboard #2 + more

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - ?

note: every chapter has its own list of warnings, but in general, it isn't anything extreme so far. emotional and physical cheating is a big part of this story though.

this is an ongoing series. i don't know how long it'll continue for.

also the moodboard is cute, you should go look!

[kissforyouu]

KISS ME MORE .ᐟ — jeon jungkook

𐙚 jungkook x sanrio girl!oc . masterlist.

𐙚 mature content ; read at your own risk.

ᥫ᭡ finding your boyfriend sleeping in your hyper feminine room

ᥫ᭡ sanrio shopping with jk

ᥫ᭡ making a cute bento box for your boyfriend!

ᥫ᭡ that...is your boyfriend?

ᥫ᭡ ribbons and affection

ᥫ᭡ boyfriend texts 0.1

ᥫ᭡ boyfriend texts 0.2

ᥫ᭡ boyfriend texts 0.3

ᥫ᭡ forgive me now?

ᥫ᭡ boyfriend texts 0.4

ᥫ᭡ boyfriend texts 0.5

ᥫ᭡ boyfriend texts 0.6

ᥫ᭡ boyfriend texts 0.7

ᥫ᭡ boyfriend texts 0.8

ᥫ᭡ yawn - sleepy drabble

ᥫ᭡ i love you ; a compilation

© kissforyouu 2023 - 2024 - 2025. do not steal/copy my content.