synopsis:
— the school’s gym teacher is hopelessly in love with the algebra teacher in room 103, but is absolutely terrible at keeping secrets... after hiding their relationship from the school for months, a tiny slip up in the staff lounge sends rumors multiplying faster than her exam extra-credit equations. with the whole school speculating, will their cover finally get blown?
pairings: gym teacher!jungkook x algebra teacher!fem reader
genre: fluff, crack, established (but secret!.. kinda) relationship
warnings: profanity. just IDIOT jungkook not being able to keep a secret.. and reader trying not to get embarrassed by him..
teaser wc: 0.3k
kay's notes: my first time writing in YEARS.. so bare with me pls. plus i never really wrote on tumblr.. help me out omg.
“Did you hear?”
Mrs. Yang whispers the moment she hurriedly slides into the chair beside you in the teacher lounge, nearly spilling her mug onto your stack of algebra assignments that you were planning to grade before first period begins. You pause mid-stir, spoon hovering in your coffee as you slowly turn toward her with a puzzled look.
“Hear about what?” you ask cautiously, already bracing yourself.
Mrs. Yang does a quick sweep of the lounge, making sure no one else is eavesdropping into your conversation. Then she leans in so close you can smell her peppermint gum.
“There are rumors going around that Coach Jeon might be taken!”
Your entire body goes stiff and your heartbeat quickens. Mrs. Yang grabs your hand with both of hers, bouncing with excitement like she’s just uncovered buried treasure. You knew she carries the hottest gossip on campus but nothing prepared you to be so close to the target.
“Isn’t that insane? No one knows who the mystery woman is. I mean how could he not be single? That man is a major hottie,” Mrs. Yang squeals like she was one of the freshmen at this school, instead of their Chemistry teacher.
Rumors? Already? Your mind spirals as you force a smile. You and Jungkook had been extra careful! No lingering eye contact, no suspicious hallway meet ups, no leaving his whistle in your cardigan pocket… again.
“And get this! There’s a theory that he’s dating a faculty member here!” Your soul has officially left your body.
You force out a nervous laugh, “Really? Someone.. here?”
Mrs. Yang nods rapidly. “Yes! Everyone is wondering who. I personally have suspicion that it’s someone in the English department. The ladies there are always whispering. Probably manifesting their workplace romance books in becoming true!”
Her words become zoned out as your body is fully on defense mode. You can feel the room get hotter and sweat surfacing your skin. All the possibilities of people exposing your secret love life are crowding your mind.
summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.
pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader.
warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.
authors note: hello??? why does suga never give me a break? he snapped on haegeum. giving me toxic gang member vibes. this is gonna be a dark, heavily graphic fic. i warn you, if you don’t like anything mentioned in the warnings then this isn’t for you. this story is purely fictional and for your enjoyment, i do not condone gang violence, affiliation or any of the fucked up shit yoongi will do in this story. comment below if you want to be added to the taglist.
in which oc is more than ready to set the world on fire to have jungkook by her side again
navi | m. list | ask kimi !
kimi's note ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა
nsfw is applied in all my content + fluff , angst , and crack .
— pairings
bodyguard jungkook + mafia boss oc
— info
mafia au / arrange marriage au
friends ? enemies ? to lovers ? / love triangle (ft taehyung)
angst / smut (in pt 2)
mentions/implications of death/killing, drugs, money, etc.. not heavily but it's a part of their world
story is 2 parts
the early morning clings to you in several ways.
for one, there’s streaks of blood and smoke as you step out of the elevator. second, your knuckles are pulsing where skin split over bone, but the pain barely registers. last, the cut along your cheek is still fresh, warm, dripping blood down to your jaw.
you don’t wipe it.
the hallway to your office is silent—wrongly silent. the kind that makes your instincts bristle. it’s odd to be walking down without his footsteps following. even though it’s been three months, you simply can not get used to it. you bite your inner cheek as you catch your thought.
pushing to open the door with your wrist, gun already half-drawn—
you suddenly stop.
there, outlined by the dawn, taehyung is asleep on your couch.
his suit is wrinkled, tie loosened, one arm draped over his eyes. the lamp beside him casts a soft glow over features too gentle for four in the morning. he looks like he’s been waiting long enough to get comfortable. long enough to think you’d return early.
idiot.
you flick the light switch.
once.
sharply.
the bright light jolts him awake with a small gasp, eyes blinking heavy and unfocused before they lock onto you—your blood, your expression, your silence.
even in your chaotic presence, he feels relief. a dangerous kind… the kind that borders on devotion. devotion you never asked for, but something he can’t resist giving.
“i’ve been waiting for you,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
you walk past him without responding, boots thudding against the floor and leaving faint red smears behind. your office smells like gunpowder and cold air. your faint perfume wakes taehyung up. the smell entices him.
taehyung sits up, rubbing his eyes. as you pour yourself a glass of water, he gets up and hovers over to you. he doesn’t touch you.
not yet.
but his gaze isn’t shy. it drags over the cut on your cheek, the torn sleeve, the blood.
“you shouldn’t get your hands so messy.” he says quietly.
“i handled it.”
“you have people, ___. use them. you don’t need blood on your hands. and besides, it’s four in the morning.” he steps closer. “you didn’t care that your fiancé was waiting? i’ve been here since the afternoon.”
you shrug off your coat, letting it drop onto your chair with a wet thud.
“i know. yoongi told me you were here.”
“and you still didn’t come.” he moves again—closer, close enough to reach out. his fingers hover near your cheek. “___…”
you turn your head away before he can touch you.
the rejection is sharp enough to slice the air.
taehyung swallows, jaw flexing before he masks the irritation with something softer. something he thinks you’ll accept.
“what happened out there?”
you pull a clean cloth from your drawer and press it lightly to your cheek. “business.”
“business that leaves you bleeding? look at your arms. these spots are going to bruise. what’s your father going to think of me? letting you run off till four in the morning and—”
you drop the cloth on the desk. “you don’t have to pretend like you know me to impress him. my father knows me. he would never blame my scrapes and bruises on you.”
“these are no scrapes.”
“bruises then. i’ll take the blame for the scrapes.”
the silence that follows is thick, tense. you feel his stare on your back—heavy, accusing, wanting.
then he tries again.
“is this how it’s going to be?”
“what? me?” you scoff, turning away. you search around your office, wondering what you can touch to turn away from him.
taehyung speaks up. “our marriage?”
“we’re not married—”
“yet.”
a beat.
“is this about jungkook?” he asks, chest tight.
your eyes lift.
taehyung searches, but is met with coldness. you're unreadable to him. unavailable. unwilling.
you don’t answer.
you don’t have to.
your silence tells him everything he didn’t want to know.
you leave taehyung in your office without another word, the door swinging shut behind you with a soft click that feels like a slap to his face. there was nothing to say. this arrangement means nothing to you anyway—why is he trying so hard to make it something it isn’t?
the hallway downstairs hums with a low fluorescent buzz, too bright for four in the morning. the scent of bleach hits before you even open the steel door to the lower floors.
they've cleaned recently.
good.
that means the room is ready.
you nod at jin, one of your favourite guards. he blinks at your state, biting his tongue not to comment. he knows you well enough not to—especially without him.
jin pushes the heavy doors open.
the room is dimly lit. you squint, letting your eyes adjust.
the man tied to the chair lifts his head sluggishly as your presence becomes known. dried blood crusts at the corner of his mouth—leftover from when you questioned him a few days earlier, before you were interrupted by… everything.
his eyes widen when he sees the new cut on your cheek.
you ignore it.
“let’s run through the scenario again, shall we?”
“i have nothing new to say.”
“is that so? because i received confirmation that jungkook left through you,” you say, shutting the door behind you. the click echoes and so do your foot steps as you move towards him. slowly. hauntingly. “you were the last one to see him.”
the man swallows hard.
“h–he didn’t say—”
you cut him off with a tilt of your head. not unkind. not kind. desperation, masked with anger.
“which direction did he go?”
his gaze darts to the floor.
wrong choice.
your boots tap slowly across the concrete—soft, steady, the kind of rhythm that makes men rethink their life choices. each step leaves faint red smears, half-dried from your knuckles. he sees them. he can’t look away.
when you reach him, your shadow swallows his lap.
you grip his chin, fingers sliding along his jaw with a cold certainty, pressing just enough to remind him who gets to make decisions between the two of you. who holds the higher ground.
who gets what they want.
his breath stutters.
“you should answer while i’m still being nice…” you murmur, leaning back just enough to show both hands, palms open. “look. no gun. no knife. no… threat. i’m just looking for some honesty, because one thing about me is… i hate liars.”
your head tilts. “do you hate liars too?”
“y-yes.”
“okay. so tell me the truth once.” you scoff, the sound cutting through the room. “it’s that simple.”
his throat bobs hard. when he speaks, his voice cracks like he’s confessing to a priest.
“i’m not sure. h-he was in a hurry. something about the south docks—he asked about the cargo routes—” his breath speeds up, eyes darting, “a-and then he sent me to you.”
“why?”
“he didn’t say—h-he just…”
you blink once.
“he what?”
“he asked me to signal my crewmates that you were okay.” the man squeezes his eyes shut like that’ll soften the blow. “i-i’m not too sure. please, this happened three months ago! i can’t remember everything—”
you catch his face again, harder this time. his head jerks.
“fucking try to,” you spit. the words are low, venom-soft. “where was the route headed?”
his whole body trembles.
“it doesn’t matter where they went. the cargo ship should be back around this time. h-he might be on the return. he didn’t mention plans on getting off… and even if he did, the route isn’t that far.”
he swallows, allowing the pause to convince you. “b-but... the ship! it's small. it’s slow. he just wanted time to think. y-yeah! that’s what he said. he said he just wanted to think.”
“think about what?”
“some girl,” he blurts, nervous laughter cracking apart. “a bit of a dramatic exit, no?”
that line hits you low in the ribs—sharp, unwanted, too familiar.
you release him. he gasps like you’d been holding his life between your fingers.
“good,” you say softly.
he exhales in relief, shoulders sagging, nearly melting into the chair.
you wipe your bloody knuckles on his collar—slow, deliberate, leaving streaks he’ll never wash out.
“you can go home.”
his face brightens with pathetic, premature hope.
“thank—”
“you’re welcome.”
you turn toward the door just as it opens. three men file in, silent, deliberate. the man in the chair starts thrashing immediately.
“w-what’s going on? you said i could go home—”
you look over your shoulder, sighing like he’s inconveniencing you.
“i didn’t say alive.”
the car idles at the edge of the docks, engine humming low, vibrating through the leather seat. it’s mid-day and the sound of the seagulls looking for their lunch fills the air. you’re sitting in the back, legs crossed, black dress riding up just enough to show the bruise blooming along your thigh. your trench coat is still dusted with dried blood. your sunglasses hide everything else.
through the tinted window, you watch quietly as the cargo ship is pulling in—small, slow, old. it hisses against the rusted metal of the pier as it settles.
yoongi sits beside you, silent, arms folded.
jimin’s driving; namjoon’s in the passenger seat, tapping a slow rhythm against his thigh. they’re pretending not to look at you, but all three of them can feel it—
your pulse.
your stillness.
your anger, coiled polite and deadly.
with anticipation, you watch the ramp lower. you watch the workers climb off one by one. then, you see him.
jungkook jumps down last, a worn duffel slung over his shoulder. his hair is longer than before, whipping in the cold wind. he’s scruffier and a little leaner. his jacket is navy and faded; the sleeve is torn near the wrist. he adjusts it once, fidgeting like he used to when he was cold.
your chest tightens.
he scans the dock, like he’s searching for a memory he’s not sure he wants to find. then he exhales. you wonder if it’s out of relief or if it’s out of just… because.
you wonder what he’s thinking. what he’s been thinking about… and what his next move is. abruptly, you shift forward—hand on the door handle.
yoongi’s hand twitches like he wants to stop you. he doesn’t.
his gaze just cuts to you, dark and knowing.
right before you push the door open, your phone vibrates.
your father’s name lights up the screen.
a muscle jumps in your jaw. you answer, and immediately, his voice slips through the speaker like smoke. measured. disappointed.
“you came back bleeding? bruised? and you missed your dress fitting? taehyung had a very important meeting with our men in argentina but he delayed it because he wanted to go over wedding details with you… instead, you went out and did god knows what at four in the morning and—you had a man killed ten minutes after you got back?”
“hello to you too, father. how’s your day going?”
“___…” he warns.
“what?”
“taehyung is upset.”
you scoff. “taehyung is always upset.”
there is a pause. paper shifting. pen tapping.
“___, you two are getting married. don’t stress him out so much. you should make him happier. be a wife for fucks sake—”
“we aren’t married. i am not his wife.” you hiss as you stare ahead at the dock.
jungkook’s laughing at something one of the workers said, smiling in a way you haven’t seen in months. your stomach turns.
“he’s upset about jungkook,” your father continues. “... are you?”
silence.
“___, just as he was worth every penny i paid him to protect you… he is just as dangerous. he’s unpredictable. i know you have an attachment to him but you can’t live like this forever. he isn’t family. taehyung is family.”
your fingers tighten around the phone.
“he is what i want him to be.”
yoongi glances at you—barely, but he hears everything. namjoon does too. jimin’s grip on the wheel flexes.
“stop going after him,” your father says, voice sharpening. “do you understand me? you don’t need him. i’ll find you a new bodygaurd. besides, once you marry taehyung and our businesses merge, you won’t have to worry about our legacy. he will handle it. the kim’s are—”
“businessmen,” you echo, letting the word curl with disdain. “they sit in glass offices and pretend that makes them powerful.”
your jaw tightens.
“we both know all taehyung has to do is point a finger for bodies to drop. he’s never held the weight of it. never earned the right.” you inhale slowly, not caring if your father understands where you’re coming from… but you say it anyway. “i don’t need someone who hides behind other people’s blood. i need someone who understands what it costs. maybe that’s why taehyung is so threatened around jungkook—he always has been. he’s pissed that jungkook doesn’t hide behind anyone. he faces what he chooses. he carries the consequences.”
“if that’s the jungkook you have in your head… then what’s the one that exists right now? the one that vanished for three months?” your father scoffs. “he left you.”
“you let him leave,” you say, as calm as you can. “hell, you cleared the route. you made sure he got out clean. don’t pretend you didn’t.”
“___… you’re twisting this. i never wanted you exposed to that kind of life. i don’t want blood on your hands. jungkook's job has always been to protect you, not get you involved. that’s why i want you and taehyung to work out. this is a new start for you. for us. for our legacy—”
“my hands are bloody,” you cut in. “you made them bloody. we both know what it took to get here. why are you pushing the narrative that i was born with a silver spoon?”
even your silence afterward feels dangerous.
“we both know taehyung points at people and watches them die. you raised me to take over with leadership. the real kind—and the kim’s? they are cowardice dressed in silk.”
you can practically feel your father stiffen.
“i've done the work myself,” you continue. “i’ve gotten close enough to smell gunpowder on my skin. i’ve travelled the world, taking down our competitors with my bare hands. i’ve been close enough to know the difference between fear and mercy… and surely close enough to take responsibility.”
your voice dips, cold and noble in the way only mafia royalty can sound.
“you raised me to protect this empire, and that’s exactly what i do. more than that, i don’t hide behind hired hands. i don’t outsource the dirt.”
you shift your gaze toward the docks—toward the man you came for.
“i’m not innocent,” you say. “but i’m honest. and you know it better than anyone that in our world, honesty is the only thing worth bleeding for.”
silence.
“fine.” your father inhales, thin and furious. “do it. waste your time. but you will not bring him back. you will not. if you do—”
“if jungkook doesn't come back, neither will i.”
you end the call.
the moment the line goes dead, jungkook looks up.
not toward the water. not toward the workers... but directly toward the car.
straight at you.
like he felt you before he saw you.
his brows pinch, barely. confusion, disbelief, something softer—like the ache of seeing something you don’t know if you’re allowed to want anymore.
you freeze. just for a breath.
yoongi watches him through the windshield, then watches you. namjoon turns slightly in his seat, sensing the weight in the air. jimin doesn’t look, but you feel the tension in his shoulders.
you shift back into your seat, posture crisp, sunglasses hiding the crack in your armor.
“we’re done here,” you say quietly.
jimin hesitates. “are you sure?”
“yes. head to the storage unit address i gave you earlier today.” you nod. “and yoongi?”
“mhm?”
“send jin and hobi. i want jungkook’s whereabouts to be surveilled. every move he makes, i want to know. also, freeze all of our safe house property passcodes. i want him isolated.”
“where will he go?” nam joon asks.
“home.” you answer. “call in for a car switch. we’re heading to busan tonight.”
with that, the car rolls forward, slow at first.
jungkook takes a step after you—one reflexive, helpless step—but he stops himself, jaw clenching.
you don’t look back.
not fully. just a slight tilt of your chin, enough to see the outline of him through the tinted glass—standing still, duffel hanging from his hand, chest rising like he can’t breathe right.
longing.
ache.
regret like a bruise beneath the ribs.
yoongi sees it too. so does namjoon, meeting your eyes in the mirror with a question he doesn’t dare speak.
the car pulls away, leaving the docks behind.
your hand stays on your thigh, thumb moving in small, restless circles over a pulse that refuses to settle. you have a direction. you have a name on your tongue. and now the man you came for finally knows—
you aren’t done with him.
he can walk back. he can crawl.
he can pretend he’s free of you all he wants. but the truth is, you went looking for him. you spent the past three months, sleepless and desperate for a trace of him.
fuck, you bled for him.
you killed for him.
so, no.
he doesn’t get to come back and pretend like disappearing was the right choice. he doesn’t get to live a quiet life. he doesn’t get to leave you—not fully.
You and Jungkook have been broken up for six months and the two of you have to co-parent your daughter. You may or may not still have feelings for him...
genre – parents au, exes to lovers, fluff, smut.
pairing – Jungkook X female reader.
warnings – explicit language and smut.
word count – 8k+
The second you push open the glass door of the daycare, the smell of crayons, spilled juice and some weird scent of baby powder mixed with sweat hits you.
Your feet are hurting in your stupid work shoes, your back is aching and your hair's a mess. If one more client asks you "Can you squeeze me in really quick?" you might actually lose your mind completely...
"MAMA!"
Luna's voice cuts through your thoughts. She's already halfway across the room, her chubby legs pumping and hair bouncing wildly around her cute face. Miss Ji-eun is chasing behind her with that exhausted, but fond smile teachers perfect after six months.
"Someone's been waiting for you," Ji-eun laughs, catching Luna by the back of demin overalls before she face-plants into your knees. "This little troublemaker decided that nap time was optional today. Again."
Luna crashes into you anyway with her arms up, her fingers grabbing your blouse tightly. Her cheeks are flushed, there's yoghurt in her hair and she smells like crackers and... grass? You drop your bag on the alphabet rug and scoop her up, burying your face in her neck, just to breathe her in.
"Hi baby," you whisper, making her sequel and kick her sneakers against your hip, the pink flashy ones that she loves them so much. Jungkook bought them last because he said that she needed cool shoes like her dad. You hate how much you love that.
Ji-eun hands you Luna's daily report sheet and there's a little frown face sticker next to "Listens to instructions" and a sunshine next to "Shows love to friends." Classic Luna.
"She shared her blocks with her friend Mijun during free play," Ji-eun says before lowering her voice so the other parents don't hear. "Then five minutes later she threw them across the room because he looked at her wrong. She's very... Passionate."
You snort. Yeah, passionate is one way to put it. "Tell me about it. Last she night she screamed for twenty minutes because I broke her banana in half. A felony apparently."
Ji-eun laughs with kind eyes. "She missed you today. Kept dragging that photo of you and her dad to the play kitchen, making everyone pretend to eat dinner with her Mama and Dada."
Your chest does that stupid twist it's been doing for six months straight. You forge a smile.
"Yeah, well. She–"
Luna chooses that moment to grab your face with both of her hands and plant a loud, wet kiss on your cheek.
"Mama home now!"
"We're going home baby," You hitch her higher on your hip and grab her backpack. "Say bye-bye to Miss Ji-eun."
"Bye-bye, Miss Ji!" Luna waves so hard, she nearly topples the both of you over.
In the car, you wrestle her into the car seat while she kicks and sings Baby shark... Well more like, screams it.
You're sweaty, your blouse is ruined and there's a suspicious, wet spot on your skirt that you're praying is just drool.
Luna reaches out with her tiny hands and pats your cheek. "Mama pretty." she says, matter-of-factly. You almost cry in the daycare parking lot. She's just so sweet sometimes.
────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────
The apartment smells like baby shampoo and chicken nuggets you made for dinner because it's the only thing Luna will eat without protesting.
You're on the living room floor, knees aching, trying to dress your squirming toddler into the cutest denim jacket Jungkook bought her last month. She's got one arm in, one arm out and she's doing some dance like a maniac.
"Luna, baby please. Dada's gonna gonna be here any minute. You wanna look cute for Dada, right?"
"Dada?" her whole face lights up instantly.
"Yeah, sweetheart. It's the weekend so dada's coming to fetch you." You force the words to come out cheerful, even though your stomach is knotting.
Luna starts bouncing and singing, while you chase her to dress her up properly. By the time you finally get her zipper up, she looks like a baby model.
You're stuffing her bag – diapers, clothes, her stuffed bunny and her toothbrush – when your phone buzzes on the table. It's Jungkook. You swipe answer and put it on speaker so you can fold her tiny socks.
"Hey, we're nearly ready," you say before he can even speak. "Shes been missing you and asking for you since day care. Like nonstop."
There's a pause. Then the sound of the tattoo machine buzzing in the background, along with someone laughing.
"I can't come tonight." His voice is low and regretful. "This client flew in from Japan, paid triple for a full-day session, and he wants to finish everything tonight. If I leave now I lose the deposit and–"
You laugh and it's definitely not a nice one. "Of course. Of course it's always something with you."
"Babe, I'm trying –"
"No, you're not." You're shaking a little.
Luna's staring at you with those big doe eyes, her bottom lip wobbling because you raised your voice – which you hardly ever do around her.
"You've missed two weekends with her this month. I had to beg my mom to take her last minute so I wouldn't lose my job. And now you're bailing again?"
"I'll make it up–"
"You always say that." Your voice cracks. "You know what? Don't worry about it."
You hang up before he can finish whatever half - assed promise was coming next. You leave your phone back on the table and run your hand through your hair.
"Dada coming?" Luna's asks, confused.
You drop to your knees on the rug and pull her into your chest so hard she squeaks.
"No, baby," you whisper into her hair. "Not tonight."
She doesn't cry – not right away atleast. She just pats your back like you're the one who needs comforting.
"Mama sad?" she asks.
"Yeah," you swallow the lump in your throat. "Mama's real sad."
She pulls back, grabs your face again – God, this kid and her face grabs – she plants a loud kiss on your nose.
"Luna make Mama happy. We eat ice cweam?"
You laugh at that. "After broccoli, you little con artist."
She squeals and runs circles around the coffee table, one of her shoes are already kicked off. You watch her go as your heart breaks into a million pieces. Atleast you have your sweet, silly baby girl and that's more than enough for you.
────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────
It's 11:47PM and the apartment is quite, the only sound that can be heard is the soft creak of the rocking chair you've been trapped in for the last forty minutes.
You're so tired, you just want to get up and go to bed, but every time you make the slightest movement, Luna's little first tightens in your shirt.
She's heavy on your chest, dead weight, finally drowsy after a long bedtime battle. You've done the whole routine : You had to bath her again because she dropped ice cream on herself, read her three stories and sang "Wheels on the Bus" twice.
You thought she'd be asleep by now, but her lashes start fluttering. She pops one eye open and mutters a sentence that wrecks you.
"I want Dada."
"Baby, dada's sleeping," you lie, caressing her hair. "He'll see you real soon, okay? Tomorrow tomorrow."
She stubbornly shakes her head. "No. Want dada now."
She raises her voice on the last word and her tears start to fall.
"Shh, shh..." You shift her higher so her cheek is over your heart and you rock her again, faster this time. "Mama's here, baby. Mama's got you."
But she's not having it. Her cry turns into sobs. Her whole body shakes and her legs kick. You feel that helpless panic, because you just fix this with a hug, a kiss or a snack.
"Dada sing," she wails, snot bubbling. "Dada sing Moon song!"
You know exactly what she means. Jungkook's stupid little made-up lullaby about the moon being Luna's night-light. He always sings it to her in his perfect voice. You've tried to copy it but you sound like a dying cat.
You try anyway but your voice is obviously nothing like Jungkook's
"Little moon, watching over my Luna..."
"No,Mama! Want dada."
You press your lips together so you don't start crying too. Your head is starting to pound. You're so desperate for some rest that you'd sleep on the floor if she'd let you.
"Okay, okay," you whisper, rocking her so hard that the chair groans. "No more singing. Just breathing, yeah? In and out with Mama."
She's still sobbing but it's slower now, they shallow into exhausted hiccups. You pat her back, trying to copy the rhythm that Jungkook would normally pat her back with.
Her cries turn into whimpers then into a pitiful little whine that means she's losing the battle with sleep. You keep going, even though your arm is numb and your butt is sore from the lack of movement.
"Shh, baby girl. Mama's right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"Dada... love me?" she hiccups.
You swallow a sob so loud, you're scared it might wake her right up.
"More than all the stars. He loves you so much it's stupid."
She doesn't hear the last part. Her first finally uncurls from your shirt. Her breathing evens out, and she's asleep.
You sit there for another ten minutes since you're scared to move, scared to even breathe too loud. When you finally ease out of the chair, your joints are aching! You carry her to her bed, lay her down and tuck her stuffed bunny under her arm.
She sighs in her sleep, one last tiny "Dada..." that breaks what's left of your heart.
────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────
It's just past 11AM and the apartment is finally, finally quiet. You tie off the trash bag, kick it towards the door and let out a heavy breath.
You're in a silky peach camisole and shorts you slept in (really just rolled out of bed and started cleaning, because if you sat down for a second, you'd probably start crying).
The top clings to your chest, your nipples perky against the fabric and the shorts ride up enough that your ass peeks out every time you bend just a little. You don't care about your appearance since no one's supposed to see you like this.
You're wiping down the table when three knocks tap against your door. You freeze... You know that knock. You stomp over and yank the door open without bothering with the peephole.
Jungkook's leaning against the doorframe. You don't let your eyes trail down to note what he's wearing. But, you do notice that his hair's longer and curling at the ends. He looks good, so good. He looks like he slept twelve hours and had a bath in the fountain of Beauty.
"Hours late." your voice is flat and kind if bitter.
He opens his mouth, closes it and then just nods. "I know."
You sigh and step aside to let him slide past. You turn and pad toward the kitchen. You don't see the way his eyes drop the second your back is to him.
Jungkook gaze travels down your spine, over your waist and locks on the way those silky shorts that barely cover you. The weight you've picked up since Luna (barely ten pounds – all of it's soft and lush) has settled in the exact places that haunt his dreams.
Your ass is rounder... it feels like you're moving to slowed down music that only he can hear. The silky shorts ride up with every step you take, flashing the crease where thigh meets cheek, and his mouth goes dry. He bites his lip hard.
A memory suddenly hits him :
A month after Luna was born. You were standing in from of your shared bedroom mirror in nothing but one of his oversized shirts. There were tears in your eyes, your hands were pressed on the soft pouch of your belly.
"I'm chubby now," you'd whispered. "Everything's... bigger. You don't have to pretend it's cute."
He dropped to his knees right there on the floor before you. He pushed up your(his) shirt and kissed you in every spot you thought was chubby. His palms slid over your hips and his thumbs traced your stretch marks.
"Chubby?" He laughed against your stomach. "Baby, you'll always be perfect to me."
He spent the next hour – Yes, unfortunately one mere hour, because one-month old Luna had woken up to interrupt him. He'd spent that time proving that you're his perfect woman.
He had been kneading the extra softness you grew, his hips slammed into you as you screamed his name.
He'd told you over and over again that you were the sexiest and most beautiful woman on this planet. He couldn't keep his hands off you and he knew that he would be ruined for life.
He made you come twice before flipping you over to take you from the back so he could watch your perfect ass bouncing while you begged him to take you harder.
"This body grew our daughter. You think I'm not gonna worship every single inch of it?"
Back in the present, Jungkook blinks hard, dragging himself out of the memory. His jeans are suddenly way too tight. You disappear into the kitchen, oblivious.
"She's asleep. Don't wake her up or I swear I'll murder you and dump your body in the Han River."
He exhales shakily, adjusts himself without thinking and follows you toward the kitchen. He wants to say that he loves how fiesty you are, but then again – you probably mean what you're saying so he wouldn't want to push your buttons more than he already has.
You slam the coffee tin down on the counter harder than you mean to. Your hands shake as you scoop up the powdered coffee to pour into a cup.
You're not even sure if you want coffee anymore. It's just something to do with your hands so you don't turn around and slap that stupid, perfect face of his.
Behind you, Jungkook walks closer to you until you can kind of feel him standing behind you. He's close, way too close. You can smell his cologne, the one he's had even when you two were still a couple. Before it gave you comfort, now it makes your stomach twist.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I know I keep saying it, but I really am. I fucked up last night. I should've told the client to reschedule. I should've –"
"Should've what, Jungkook?" you turn the faucet on, trying to drown his voice, but he doesn't stop.
"Been here. For her. For you."
You feel his warm breath on your neck and his hands hovering over your waist. His hands also shake a little, since he's practically fighting himself not to touch you.
"Don't." you warn.
But he does. His fingers brush your sides, they're light at first then a bit firmer. They wrap around your waist in that way he used to when he'd pull you back against him in the mornings, before everything went to shit. He tugs you gently, turning you into his chest.
"Y/N, please. I'm sorry. Let me make it right."
For a second, you almost lean in. He's so warm and you can feel his heart hammering against you. But then your anger surges back bitterly. You shove at his chest with both hands.
"Get off me." you free yourself from him.
Jungkook's hands drop to his sides and the look on his face – it's almost pathetic. His eyes are wide, his lips parted like you just slapped the shit out of him.
He takes a step back, nodding once then twice, like he's trying to convince himself it's fine.
"Okay. Yeah. I'm sorry." He runs his tattooed hand through his hair, tugging at the roots.
It hurts him – this rejection. Much more than he'll ever say out loud. He's tried, he's tried so hard. Leaving flowers on your doorstep two months after the breakup. Drunk and sober texts in the middle of the night, telling you that he missed you. He once showed up at your mom's house one evening, hoping you'd see how desperate he was, without him having to spell it out for you. He even cancelled a convention gig once, drove three hours in the rain just to hold Luna while you napped.
But you always push him away. Like you've built a wall around yourself to make sure he stays out. And yeah, it's his fault. He gets it. But it still stings.
Jungkook lingers in the doorway, his arms crossed now, subtly watching you.
"I'll just... Wait in the living room. For her to wake up."
"Fine." you mutter, not bothering to even glance at him.
He turns, makes his way to the couch and sinks onto it with a loud sigh.
A few minutes tick by – maybe about seven. It's been quiet. You're busy in the kitchen and you haven't said a single word to him.
Soon, soft footsteps patter down the hallway. Luna appears in the doorway to the living room, rubbing one eye with a chubby fist. She's dragging her stuffed bunny by one ear behind her. Her hair is wild and she's still in her cute pajamas with one sock missing. She looks so sleepy, like she can drop back to sleep any second. That is until she sees Jungkook.
"Dada!"
The tiredness evaporates immediately. Her whole face splits into a grin and she bolts, arms out toward her dad. Jungkook's off the couch in a heartbeat, scooping her up before she can trip over her own feet.
"Hey, princess! There's my girl!"
She squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck like a koala, kicking her legs in pure joy.
"Dada! Mama, Dada here!"
You peek around the corner and your lips twitch at the sight. Luna's giggling now, planting soft kisses on his cheek and Jungkook's laughing too.
The living room turns into a jungle gym in ten seconds flat. Jungkook has Luna up over his head like she's an airplane, her little arms spread wide as he zooms her around the coffee table.
"Incoming missile!" he roars and she shrieks with the loudest laugh.
"Dada, higher! Higher!"
He obliges, tossing her into the air and catching her against his chest with a dramatic "OOF!" that makes her loudly giggle again. She grabs his nose, his ears, his lip ring, anything she can reach.
"Missed you, missed you, missed you," he says between kisses, peppering them all over her cheeks, her forehead and the tip of her nose.
His voice is extremely soft and gentle, a voice he'd never use with anyone else. "Daddy missed his baby so much." Luna squeals again.
Front the kitchen, the smell of food fills the apartment. You've got the rice cooker hissing and chicken sizzling in a pan.
Jungkook's trying not to look at you, but he can't help it. His eyes keep sliding over you while Luna chatters in his ear about her week – he can't understand most of what she's saying, but still – the sound of his daughter's sweet gibberish is one of his favourite things to listen to.
You feel his stare burning into you, but you don't turn around. You just focus on cooking up lunch.
"Five more minutes, you lunatics," you call over the noise. "Wash those dirty hands before you touch anything else."
Luna wriggles down from Jungkook's arm and barrels toward the bathroom, yelling, "Dada help! Dada help!"
He follows, laughing, letting her drag him by two fingers.
When they come back, Luna's got water splashed all over her pajamas and Jungkook's shirt is damp at the hem, but they're both grinning and beaming like they won the lottery.
He lifts her onto the counter stool, buckles the little booster seat and steals a carrot piece from the cutting board before you can smack his hand away.
"Thieves get no dessert," you warn, almost playfully.
Jungkook grins with his mouth full and Luna copies him, crunching loudly and swinging her little legs.
You set three bowls on the table : two glass bowls for you and Jungkook, and a plastic one for Luna. You dish up steaming rice, chicken and cucumbers cut up into stars because Luna refuses to eat them any other way.
You watch Jungkook help Luna scoop rice with her spoon, the way he wipes the sauce off her chin then without thinking, licks it clean.
Your chest aches in a way that has nothing to do with anger or heartache. You love them. You love the way Luna's eyes turn into little half-moons when she laughs at her dad's goofy faces. You love the way Jungkook's voice drops into that gentle register he only uses with your daughter. You love how, for five stupid minutes, the three of you fit together like a little family.
You sit across from them and let yourself smile. "Eat your stars, baby." you tell Luna.
She holds one up. "Look, Mama! Star for Dada!"
Jungkook catches it when she flings it at him, pops it into his mouth and winks at you over your daughter's head.
────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────
The sun's dipping low now. Jungkook's got Luna on his hip, her necessity bag slung over his shoulder and her little dinosaur backpack bouncing against his thigh.
Her head is calmly resting against his neck, hair tickling his jaw. One thumb is in her mouth and the other hand is clutching the collar of his t-shirt tightly.
You zip the necessity bag after checking it one last time. Making sure there are diapers, spare pajamas and teething gel. After that, you cup Luna's face.
"Bye, my baby." you whisper, pressing kiss after kiss to your daughter's face. "Mama loves you so much okay? So, so much. Be good for Dada. Use your words. No throwing food at Uncle Jin when he FaceTimes. And if you wake up at night, tell Dada to sing the Moon song, not the dinosaur one because that one makes you hyper."
Luna giggles softly. "Moon song, Mama. Pwomise."
You give her another kiss and another. You can't stop. Your lips find new spots – the shell of her ear, the small birthmark on her temple, the corner of her mouth.
Jungkook watches the whole thing with a quiet and fond smile, he used to give you when you'd dance around the kitchen at night pregnant and craving junk food.
When you finally straighten up, eyes a little glassy, Jungkook shifts Luna higher and he leans forward, puckering his lips in the most dramatic pout known to man kind.
"Where's my kiss?" he whispers, wiggling his eyebrows.
You don't even blink, you just roll your eyes at him. "In your dreams, Jeon."
He pulls back, clutching his chest like you stabbed him. "Wow. Ice cold. My own daughter gets a million kisses and I get rejected in 4k."
Luna (bless her tiny heart) reaches out and pats his cheek. "Dada kiss!" She plants a big, wet, open-mouthed smooch right on his lips.
Jungkook's whole face melts. "That's my girl. Atleast someone loves me."
You snort before giving a small smile. "Text me when you get home. And if she spikes a fever, call me before googling anything. I swear Jungkook if she comes home sick again –"
"I know, I know, you'll end my bloodline." He's already backing toward the door, Luna's head lolling against his shoulder.
"We'll be fine. Say bye-bye princess." Jungkook tells her.
"Bye Mama!" she waves floppy fingers. "Love you!"
Your throat closes. You blow one last kiss. "Love you more." The door clicks shut behind them.
For a few seconds you stand there, trying to hear his footsteps leaving but then you hear Jungkook's voice through the door, talking to Luna.
"Don't worry, baby. Mama's just grumpy. She'll give Daddy kisses again one day. We'll wear her down. Team Jeon never quits."
The sound of the footsteps retreat down the hall. You press your forehead against the door, fighting a smile...
It's already Sunday evening and you're three episodes deep into some trash movie while drinking a glass of wine.
The apartment is too quiet. No naughty toddler demanding juice and snacks, no tiny feet stampeding across the floor.
You had the longest bath in human history, shaved your legs, painted your toes. It's been heavenly. You check your phone to see what Jungkook and Luna have been up to yesterday.
At 10:12AM, Jungkook sent photo of Luna playing on a swing with a big grin on her face and wild hair.
At 10:45, he sent a video of her trying to feed a penguin a pretzel at the zoo.
Then at 2:30PM, he sent a photo of the two of them. He looks tired, Luna is passed out on his bare chest, drool puddled on his tattoo, with the caption : "Someone refused to nap until 2 seconds ago.
That photo makes you stare way too long. Jungkook shirtless, his tattoos on full display. Luna's little hand curled over the inked writing he got for her first birthday.
The same chest you used to fall asleep on almost every night. You zoom in like a creep, then immediately feel pathetic and lock your phone, before opening it again because Jungkook texts again right now.
Jungkook [4:12PM]: She really wanted this, I couldn't say no🥴 *sent a photo of Luna in the mall, holding the biggest teddy bear you've ever seen*
You [4:14PM] : you're the weakest man alive. also why is that bear bigger than me?? where is it even gonna sleep?
Jungkook [4:15PM] : on top me apparently, "Mr fluffy needs Dada to keep him warm"
You [4:16PM] : tell mr fluffy he can have my spot on your chest. i've been replaced by a toddler and a stuffed bear 😓
You hit send before you can overthink it, then immediately regret every life choice that has led to this moment. Shit, what are you doing?
The three dots appear, disappear and appear again.
Jungkook[4:17PM] : ur spot's been empty for 6 months, baby. teddy's just keeping it warm for u
Your stomach flips and you get a weird sensation in you belly that can be described as collywobbles.
You [4:20PM] : smooth, Jeon. real smooth.
Jungkook [4:20PM] : I try. also she's currently eating ice cream for dinner... Don't look at me like that, it's the rainbow flavour :(
You [4:22PM] : THAT IS NOT FOOD. you're spoiling her rotten.
Jungkook [4:22PM] : she looked at me with ur eyes, what was I supposed to do?? say no to those eyes?? impossible 🙅🏻♂️
You bite your lip unconsciously.
You [4:23PM]: you're lucky she's cute and i miss her face... both of your faces, i guess 🙄
Jungkook [4:23PM] : we miss urs too. counting down the hours tbh.
Another photo comes through : Luna on his lap at the kitchen counter, ice cream smeared across her cheeks, giving the camera a toothy grin while Jungkook kisses the top of her head, eyes closed with the softest smile you've ever seen... Your heart does something complicated.
You [4:26PM]: tell her mama's waiting with broccoli and no screen time, tell yourself... I'll think about the spot thing.
Jungkook [4:27PM] : broccoli threat noted. Spot thing bookmarked, highlighted and underlined. see you tomorrow ❤️
You lock the phone, press it to your chest and groan into the empty living room. You might be screwed.
It is now the evening and you're now currently pushing out of the convenience store with a plastic bag swinging from your hand.
You thought you'll have this last night all to yourself, but you realize that you actually miss your little rascal more than expected.
You came by the store for essentials – a few groceries, milk and tampons.
Jungkook's apartment is only two blocks away. Why wait until tomorrow morning? You'll surprise them, scoop Luna up early and avoid that Monday morning rush.
You pull out your phone to call Jungkook. It rings, but he doesn't pick up. His phone is probably on silent or maybe him and Luna are making too much of noise to hear it ring.
You get to his apartment and make your way up the stairs. Your heart rate picks up a little because showing up unannounced feels... bold. But it's for Luna. You knock and you hear muffled voices inside – laughing and deep voices.
The door swings open and Jungkook's standing there, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His eyes widen, surprise flashing, before his face breaks into an easy smile.
"Y/N? Hey, everything okay?"
"Yeah, fine. I was in the neighbourhood – convenience store run." you pick up the bag as proof. "Tried calling, but...anyway, figured I'd grab Luna early. Save you the morning drop off."
He blinks, then steps aside, gesturing you in. "Uh, sure. Come in. She's crashed out in the bedroom, we had a fun weekend."
The apartment smells like pizza and faint weed smoke. And his friends are sprawled on the couch and floor.
Yoongi in the armchair, with his own drink, Taehyung cross-legged on the rug with a controller in hand and Minho leaning against the kitchen counter, smirking.
"Boys," Jungkook says, closing the door behind you. "You remember Y/N."
Yoongi nods, chill as ever. "Hey, long time."
Taehyung waves and grins. "Sup Y/N? Luna's been telling us all about her mommy."
Minho pushes off the counter, his eyes lingering on you as he steps closer.
"Y/N,damn. Looking good. Motherhood suits you." His tone lowers and his gaze flicks over your figure, admiring it. You just laugh it off.
"Thanks, Minho. Been a while..." You turn to Jungkook. "So, where's my girl?"
"In my room," he says, jerking his head toward the hall. "Go check on her. She's out cold, but you know how she is – might wake up if she hears your voice."
You nod, slipping past them with a quick "Nice seeing you guys" tossed over your shoulder.
The bedroom door creaks open and you find Luna curled peacefully under a blanket on Jungkook's king-sized bed with her thumb in her mouth.
The massive teddy bear from the mall photo is beside her like a guardian. Your heart squeezes at the sight of your precious baby. You sit gently at the edge, brushing some strands of hair from her forehead, whispering,
"Hey, sleepyhead. Mum's here."
Back in the living room, the vibe changes the second you're out of earshot. Minho let's out a low whistle.
"Holy shit, Jungkook. Your baby mama's even hotter now. That ass in those jeans? Post-baby glow or whatever – they weren't lying. Thicker in all the right places."
Yoongi shakes his head. "Dude, chill."
But Minho doesn't, the beer loosens his filter too much. "Nah, for real. I'd hit that in a heartbeat. Bet she's wild now – mom bod like that? Imagine bending her over, grabbing those hips, making her–"
Jungkook's blood boils. He's been half - listening, scrolling his phone but the words hit him. The beer bottle clatters to the floor as he lunges.
Before Minho can utter the next words, Jungkook's got him by the collar, yanking him up and slamming him against the wall with a thud that rattles the frames.
"The fuck did you just say?" Jungkook's face is inches from Minho's. His knuckles whiten as he pins Minho harder. "That's the mother of my kid, you piece of shit. Say that again. I dare you."
Minho's eyes go wide, not expecting his friend's sudden protective outburst. He picks up his hands in surrender but there's still a smirk twitching on hips lips.
"Whoa, easy –"
"Shut your mouth," Jungkook snarls, shoving him more for emphasis. "You don't talk about her like that. Ever. Or I'll break your fucking jaw."
Taehyung's on his feet now, pulling at Jungkook's arm. "Hey, cool it. He's just talking shit."
Yolngi stays seated but his voice comes out loud. "Jungkook, let him go. Not worth it."
Jungkook's chest heaves, frustration boiling over – Not just from Minho, but at everything now.
The breakup he mainly caused by himself, the weekends he's flaked and the way you sometimes look at him with a mix of longing and disappointment. And now this asshole he called a friend, reducing you to some fantasy? He releases Minho with a shove and steps back.
In the bedroom, you hear some commotion. Thuds, raised voices and maybe a curse or two. Luna stirs, her brows furrowing in her sleep and a whimper escapes.
Your head snaps toward the door, confused. What the hell? You lean over Luna, rubbing her back.
"Shh, baby, it's okay. Go back to sleep."
Luna sighs, nestling closer as you stroke her hair. But your mind races – what's going on out there? Jungkook sounds so pissed.
The living room falls silent and tense. Minho straightens his shirt with a forced laugh.
"Didn't know you were still whipped."
Jungkook glares, his fists still balled. "Get out. Now."
Minho grabs his jacket, muttering something under his breath, but he leaves. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair. He should've known better than to let them hang over when Luna was here. And you, if you heard any of that, you'd be so mad.
A minute later, you peek out with your eyebrows raised.
"Everything okay? Sounded like World War Three."
Jungkook forces a tight smile. "Yeah. Just guys being idiots. Minho left."
You nod, not buying it entirely but Luna's soft snores pull you back.
Days have passed since your unexpected pop in at Jungkook's place. It's Wednesday evening now, and you're not okay.
Your blouse if half untucked, your hair escaping it's former beat bun in untidy strands. Luna's been screaming since you picked her up from daycare.
Apparently she bit her friend Minjun, threw sand at some kids and gave Miss Ji-eun a hard time today. The teacher's polite smile had cracked into pure exhaustion when she handed Luna over and muttered, "Rough day."
Rough day is an understatement.
The second you're inside, Luna flings her backpack, kicks off her shoes, throws them somewhere and starts a tantrum.
You try everything. Milk, Bluey, ice cream. But nothing works. You're on the verge of tears yourself. You grab your phone and decide to call Jungkook. You hardly ever call on weekdays, but you're desperate. He picks up on the second ring.
"Hey, what's-"
"I can't," you cut in. "Just... Please come. I can't do this tonight."
He doesn't ask any questions. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
He makes it over in eight minutes. You open the door, he takes you in before reaching for your screaming toddler. Luna's still wailing, face red and splotchy but the second she spots him, she stops.
"Dada?"
"Hey, little monster." He scoops her up, one arm under her butt, the other hand patting her back. "We do not make Mama cry, you hear me? That's rule number one."
Luna sniffles, burying her face in his neck. You just stand there, arms wrapped around yourself, watching him easily take over.
"Go shower," he tells you softly. "I got this."
You don't argue. You disappear into the bathroom, let the hot water wash away your rough day and change into the softest pajamas you own.
When you come out, the apartment is quiet. Jungkook is in the kitchen, one hip against the counter, stirring something in Luna's favourite bowl. He's got her perched on the counter beside him, legs swinging, happily eating pieces of banana that he feeds her.
"Someone was just hungry and real tired," he murmurs, not looking up. "And missing her dada."
You lean in the doorway, arms crossed and throat tight. He cleans Luna up, carries her to bed and sings for her. You're in the living room, curled on the single couch, knees to your chest.
When Jungkook comes back, he doesn't say anything at first, he just sits in the middle of the three-seater couch with his legs spread.
"Come here."
You're too tired to pretend that you don't want to. You shuffle over, standing between his thighs, staring at your fuzzy socks. Tears embarrassingly slip out before you can stop them.
"Hey," his voice drops to this gentle thing he never uses with anyone else, not even with Luna. "Look at me, baby."
You do, the tears keep falling. Jungkook reaches up, thumbs brushing them away so gently, it hurts.
"Whats going on in that head, hmm?"
"Everything sucks," you whisper. "Work was hell, my body is aching, I'm gonna be bleeding soon. I'm emotional. Our kid turned into a little dictator today and I just –" you take a breath. "I'm so tired, Kook."
He doesn't mention the use of his old nickname slipping out. He just slides his hand to your hips and tugs you until you're straddling his lap, your knees sink into the couch on either side of him.
He wraps his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head.
"I know," he murmurs into your hair. "I know how hard you try every single day, being the best mom in the world."
You cry a bit harder, your face buried in his neck, hands fisting his shirt.
"I got you," he whispers, rocking you side to side like he does with Luna after she has nightmares. "I'm here, Y/N."
You don't know how long you two stay like that. Long enough for the tears to slow, for your breathing to match his and for your chest to loosen a little
Your face is tucked into Jungkook's neck, your breath warm against his skin. You've melted against him, chest to chest, thighs spread over his. This is the closest you've been in six months.
Your fingers slide up the back of his neck, gently scraping over his scalp and threading through the soft hair at his nape.
You do it again, scratching his scalp in lazy circles. Jungkook's eyes flutter shut without permission. A low, involuntarily sound rumbles in his throat.
Fuck, he missed this. Miss your hands, missed the way you know exactly how to touch him, missed how you know all his weak spots.
You shift a little, hips moving forward like you're trying to get closer. The movement makes your core press right against him.
He feels heat flaring low in his stomach. He's half hard already (has been since you climbed onto his lap, if he's being honest). Your pajama shorts are so thin, he can feel your warmth.
When you move against him again, his hands tighten on your waist by pure instinct. Jungkook's brain short-circuits. Are you... Do you feel that? Do you know what you're doing to him?
You sigh a shaky exhale against his collarbone, your nose nudging just under his jaw. Your nails keep moving, scratching gentle at the roots of his hair – the way you used to when the two of you would lazy-fuck on early mornings and when you wanted him to fuck you deeper.
His hips twitch up before he can stop, it's like a reflex. That movement earns a soft, almost-soundless whimper from your throat.
Jungkook freezes. You freeze too, for a second, then relax again, like nothing happened. Your thighs tighten around him and you decide to roll your hips against him once more.
Jungkook's heart is hammering so hard, he's scared that you might feel it. His hands slide down to grip the backs of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just under the hems of your shorts.
He doesn't dare say anything. Because if he's reading this wrong, if you're just emotional, clingy and riding the emotional rollercoaster and not actually aching for him the way he's aching for you, he'll ruin everything. Again.
So he stays quiet, breathing through his nose, letting do what you want on him. Letting you scratch him until his eyes cross, letting you press as close as you want, letting you feel exactly what you do to him.
His fingers flex against your thighs, a silent question he's too scared to voice. Your lips brush the shell of his ear, almost a kiss. You don't move away and Jungkook thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's not imagining it after all.
"... Kook." your voice comes out a little whiny.
His cock jerks hard against the inside of his pants and he has to swallow a groan.
"Yeah?" he rasps.
His hands slide up higher, fingers curling over the swell of your ass, squeezing it gently but desperately at the same time.
"Tell me what you need, baby."
Your tongue flicks out, tracing his earlobe, you catch it between your teeth for half a second before letting go.
"Help me," you whisper. Your hips move again, grinding yourself along the hard line of him. "I'm hurting, Kook. I need you to make it stop."
That plea cracks something in him. He doesn't ask if you're sure nor does he give you time to second guess. He surges up, mouth crashing onto yours, swallowing the little gasp you make when he flips you.
Your back hits the couch cushions, legs still wrapped around his waist. He grins down hard, letting you feel exactly how fucking desperate he is.
"Anything," he growls against your lips, sounding wrecked. "Anything you want, I'll give it to you."
You bring his mouth back to yours, kissing him like you're starving, your teeth clashing and your tongue sliding in his mouth.
Your thighs clamp tighter around his waist, ankles locked at the small of his back.
You break the kiss and pant against his lips. "Fuck me, Jungkook. Please."
He can't quite believe his ears. He yanks his hoodie off and tosses it somewhere across the room. Your eyes go wide and glassy, eye-fucking him like you forgot how beautiful he is.
Jungkook comes back to kiss you stupid. One of his hands is braced beside your head, the other goes down, straight between your legs. He doesn't bother with the shorts, he just shoves the fabric aside and groans when his fingers find you.
"Fuck –"
"Shh," you hiss, but it turns into a whimper when he sinks two fingers deep inside you and curling them just right. You're dripping, coating his hand as his fingers move. "Luna's –"
"I know, I know," he whispers, but he can't stop the moan that rumbles out of him. He pumps his fingers faster as his thumb circles your clit. It hasn't even been long but you're already close. Your thighs tremble and nails rake red lines down his shoulders.
"Kook, I'm gonna–"
"No," he growls, pulling his fingers out to lick then clean.
You desperately whine at the loss, but he's already shoving his pants and boxers down to free himself. His cock slaps heavy against your thigh, leaking at the tip. The sound you make is pure filth.
"I need to be inside you," he groan. "Six months, Y/N. Six fucking months."
He pulls your shorts and panties down your legs in a rough tug, then yanks your top over your head.
You're naked underneath him now, a few stretch marks across your hips, your breasts fuller than he remembers, your nipples perky and begging. His eyes actually sting.
"Look at you..." he manages to choke out. "You're so fucking perfect."
He drops his mouth to your chest, sucking hard on one nipple then the other,, leaving marks across your skin. You arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt.
Jungkook lines up at your entrance, rubbing the tip of his throbbing cock along your slit twice, coating himself. Then he pushes in slowly, watching your face the whole time.
You're tighter and warmer than he remembers. The way you moan, makes his vision blur. Your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging against his ass, pulling him deeper until he's buried to the brim. You both still, breathe ragged, trying to listen if Luna might've woken. When you hear nothing, you carry on.
"Move," you whisper shakily. "Please move."
He does. Slow and deep thrusts into your pussy, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back in. Each thrust earns a beautiful moan from you.
He keeps his pace slow at first, savouring you. Six months of dreaming about this exact moment has him in a daze.
"Still so fucking tight," he groans against your neck, bucking in deep. "Taking me so good, baby. You're made for me."
You can only whimper, legs tightening to pull him impossibly deeper.
Your eyes become glassy, tears spiking over as you claw at his shoulder.
"Kook, I'm –"
"I know, baby. I feel it." he pants.
Your walls clench and unclench around him. You're close, so fucking close, and again, it's only been a few minutes.
Six months without a single touch has made you a bit easy. He bucks his hips hard, the couch creaking under you, skin slapping against skin in the quiet room.
Your nails rake down his back, deep enough to leave more marks. He hisses at the sting that only makes him go faster now.
"Come for me," he growls against your ear.
Your whole body locks up, a broken cry rips out your throat as you come. Your pussy claps down so tight around him, it's almost painful.
Jungkook is right there too. After a short while, he pulls out before he releases inside you. His first wraps around his cock, jerking himself twice before he releases across your stomach with a groan.
He shakes as he presses his forehead to yours, trying to remember how lungs work.
"Fuck," he whispers. "Tell me this was real."
You don't answer with words. You roll over, getting on your hands and knees Your back is arched, your ass is up and head turned so you can peek at him over your shoulder.
Jungkook's brain falters. But he gets into position behind you. His hands spread you open before he presses open-mouthed kisses to the round, perfect swell of your ass. First the left cheek then the right cheek. He bites one softly and you gasp.
Then he straightens, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise and slams into you in a hard thrust. You both moan loudly and you just hope that Luna doesn't wake up...
The angle is devastating. He's deeper than before, meeting spots inside you that makes you scream into the cushion. He sets a fast pace, hips snapping and balls slapping against you. The sound of that and the wetness of you fills the room.
Your arms give out so you drop to your elbows, your face pressed into the couch as you moan his name. Jungkook gathers your messy ponytail, wraps it around his fist and yanks your head back until your spine arches beautifully.
He leans over, his chest to your back so that his mouth finds yours in a mess and desperate kiss. His tongue dominates and he swallows every sweet sound you make because of him. You hum into it needily and your fingers reach back to dig into his thigh.
"Harder," you say against his lips. "Don't stop, please don't stop–"
He won't and he can't. He's so high on the way you're taking him. Another orgasm is building in you, he can feel it by the way your walls flutter again.
Jungkook tightens his grip on your hair and his hips piston faster. You can hear and feel his ragged breath against your ear.
"Come on, baby. Come for me. I'm right behind you."
Your second orgasm comes, your walls pulsing wildly around his cock. You moan way too loud as your fingers dig into the couch.
"Fuck, yes –" he grits out, fucking you through it.
He wants to bury himself inside you forever, fill you until you're dripping. The thought dangerously flashes in his head.
At the last second, sanity kicks in. He pulls out with a groan, his fist wrapping around his cock to stroke it hard.
He squirt his release on your ass. He watches it paint your skin before it drips down.
You collapse forward, burying your face in your arms. Your body is limp and trembling from aftershocks. You're gasping, whimpers fade into heavy breaths and then... Nothing. Your eyes flutter shut and you're out.
Pretty much passed out right there, ass still up, marked by him and looking like one of his beautiful dreams. Jungkook slumps back on his heels, staring at you in awe.
His cock softens against his thigh but his heart is still pounding loudly. He can go again. He'll gladly flip you over and slide back inside, make you come a third time just to hear you beg his name.
But he looks at you – you're limp, lips parted in sleep and he knows better. You're done. Wiped out from the day and the strenuous exercise he just made you endure.
He takes a breath, wipes the swear from his forehead with the back of his hand and gently rolls you onto your side.
"Hey, baby," he whispers, brushing away wet hair from your forehead. "Let's gets you cleaned up."
You mumble something incoherent and your eyes crack open to register him before shutting again.
Jungkook scoops you bridal style, your head lolling against his chest and legs dangling. He carries you to the bathroom, sets you on the counter and turns on the shower.
The steam fills the bathroom as he helps you under the warm spray. You're half-asleep through it all, leaning heavily onto him as he soaps you and cleans you up – kissing you a few times in the process.
By the time he towel dries you, you're snoring. Cute, little sounds that make his chest ache. He laughs under his breath, shaking his head as he carries you to bed.
After dressing you in some new pajamas and himself in his old shirt and pair of boxers he found, he tucks you in and slides in beside you.
You immediately curl into him, your arm over his waist and face pressed to his chest, legs tangling with his.
Jungkook just lies there staring at the ceiling, one of his hands circle patterns on your back. He can't believe this. His heart's still racing and his mind is spinning.
What if the two of you can just work things out? Atleast, one more time?
A/N – I don't know if I'm shadow-banned on Tumblr but if this doesn't get any hype I'm going to delete it and repost it again because it took me so long 🥴.
I'm sorry for any errors, if you've read this I hope you enjoyed it!! I'm going through difficult times so if you've liked this, please consider leaving me a tip on my ko-fi : ko-fi.com/cupidsbling (completely optional and sincerely appreciated♡)
Guys help a gurly out i want an established relationship jungkook fanfiction with deep meanings and all that sh*t spicy not purely smut like mature and all that
Guys help meeeee i was reading a fiction about jungkook, hiw he met his ex in a mall , so yn found a 3 year old kid lost in a mall and then it happened to be jungkook's kid , i forgot to put a like on the post HEEEEEELP PLEASE
