on the circuit, Jungkook races against the clock; off it, he races against your questions — but he can’t seem to let you slip through his fingers. — ugh, how much longer can you keep pretending it’s nothing more than bickering?
⋆˚࿔ pairings: f1driver!jungkook x journalist!reader.
⋆˚࿔ tags + warnings: Jungkook as a Ferrari driver, Taehyung as his teammate, f!reader, love-hate dynamic, feigned hatred, Italian words, mention of the Monza GP, oral sex (f!receiving), nipple squeezing, praise. (not yet reviewed) — wc: 3.5K
“ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE FERRARI DRIVER, WHO EXTENDS HIS LEAD IN THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!”
The grandstands continued to roar, the deafening cheers echoing throughout the circuit, frantic, relentless, and filled with undeniable admiration.
The roar of the engines had fallen silent, yet the Monza circuit remained under the thunderous noise of more than ninety thousand people —perhaps even more than that — singing with overwhelming pride and joy. Countless red flags waved through the grandstands as a Ferrari slowly completed its celebratory lap.
Him. — Jeon Jungkook raised one gloved fist from the cockpit.
Another victory. His seventh of the season. The seventy-third of his career.
“Grazie, ragazzi!” — Jungkook’s voice came through the team radio, breathless yet beaming with exhilaration. He couldn’t help but let a few curses slip in his native language, earning a round of laughter from his race engineer. — “The car is unbelievable, magnifico.”
“No, JK.” — The engineer replied. Jungkook could hear the smile in the older man’s voice; years of working together had made it unmistakable. — “You were the unbelievable one out there, mate.”
On the pitwall, the Italian team’s mechanics jumped over one another, screaming with euphoria; the feeling of securing a home victory was satisfying, truly rewarding. — The true honor of Ferrari. — Without suppressing or interrupting the celebration, Kim Taehyung was the second driver to cross the finish line and meet the checkered flag, securing a one-two finish for the red team.
Jungkook parked the SF-26 in the designated spot marked by the enormous number one sign. He then removed the steering wheel and released himself from the harness and the car’s safety restraints, taking a deep breath. As he lifted his visor, the sound of the crowd seemed to double in intensity, in sheer force and passion. — It was extraordinary. — He climbed out of the car, raising his arms as a gesture of relief and strength.
After completing the correct and mandatory post-race procedures, Jungkook didn’t waste a single second before celebrating his victory.
The golden helmet, detailed with purple and black accents, was removed, revealing his dark hair completely messy and stuck to his forehead from the sweat. But nothing stopped him from messing it up even more with his fingers and feeling comfortable with the temporary hairstyle.
Ferrari had won once again.
The photographers, still buzzing with excitement, fired hundreds of flashes — and fought for the best angle of the young man without hesitation, even risking creating chaos — while Jungkook greeted some officials from the department and welcomed Taehyung with a fearless, heartfelt embrace. Even through the helmet, the younger driver admired the brightness in his teammate’s eyes.
It was the kind of embrace reserved for those who had shared years together, victories, defeats, and countless hours inside Ferrari. — Not to mention the endless complaints over the team radio.
“So, you decided to fly today?” — Taehyung asked, his voice muffled by his helmet, a grin evident in his tone. — “I knew you weren’t going to waste that pole position.”
“Looks like you did too,” — Jungkook replied as he reached for his water bottle and set his helmet down in the designated area. — “I thought you were going to come after me after that last Safety Car.”
“I thought about it.” — They both laughed. Taehyung could have, and he genuinely considered, overtaking the younger driver on lap forty-two; he wasn’t lying. In the end, though, he chose to stick to the team’s strategy. Besides, he had won the previous race. — And he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip away at the next Grand Prix. — “You deserved it, man.”
One of the photographers captured the moment; without a doubt, he thought, it was one of the finest shots he had ever taken throughout his career. — Ferrari’s confident, seemingly unstoppable partnership.
“Jungkook!” — A familiar voice caught the race winner’s attention, pulling him away from his conversation with Taehyung. Warm and upbeat, yet always carrying a youthful enthusiasm for her role and her work, her tone had always been inviting, especially to him.
The call, clear and instantly recognizable amid the chaos of engineers, photographers, and mechanics still riding the high of the race, drew his attention at once. It was curious — and peculiar, so incredibly peculiar — how, among hundreds of voices echoing around him, he could still pick yours out effortlessly, as if his body had learned to search for your long before his mind even realized it.
Funny enough, there was something about your voice that always managed to capture his attention; soft, comforting, and reassuring. It carried that effortless warmth, that so deeply admired charm capable of winning anyone over, whether there was a camera pointed at you or not. — Anyone.
Except him.
Or, at least, that’s what the world believed.
His dark, gleaming eyes found the figure approaching, and his lips threatened to give away a smile he was quick to suppress. — Jungkook caught the corner of his lower lip between his teeth, absentmindedly biting down against the piercing; a habit he desperately needed to break. — One of these days, he was going to rip the jewelry right out.
“First of all, congratulations on the win!” — Your words came across flawlessly professional, accompanied by your signature warm smile, your eyes gently curving with genuine sincerity. — “I’d say it was a nearly flawless race, wouldn’t you?” — You extended the interview microphone toward the driver.
“Well, i suppose i can.” — Barehanded now, Jungkook accepted the microphone. For the briefest of moments, his fingers brushed against yours.
“Starting from pole position, managing your tires in a way only a handful of drivers can, and doing it here of all places; you built a gap of more than seven seconds to the driver in second over the closing laps.” — You had a remarkable ability to catch every detail and put it to use in your interviews, something that both impressed your fellow journalists and kept the drivers on their toes. — “Honestly, it looked like no one could keep up with you.”
And you was right. Jungkook wasn’t about to argue with your last remark. That didn’t mean he wanted to feed his own ego or boast about his drive. — He knew how to distinguish confidence from arrogance, regardless of the shallow headlines and manufactured rumors claiming otherwise. — In response, the tattooed driver gave a subtle nod of agreement.
“The team gave me a fantastic car.” — Jungkook took a deep breath, his gaze drifting toward the grandstands and the members of the team gathered together, embracing his teammate as they celebrated the podium finish. — “I’m grateful to my team and to the fans. This is all because of them. I just had to do my job.”
“Honestly, it’s great to hear that.” — The broadcast camera centered on the driver as he waved to the crowd, raising both fists in triumph while thousands of voices erupted, chanting his name. — “But on lap… thirty-two, you ignored your race engineer’s recommendation to preserve the medium tires. Instead of managing them, you kept pushing at the front and attacking.” — Hidden within the praise were the carefully crafted criticisms that came with your job. — “Was that confidence or recklessness?”
Raising an eyebrow, you paid no attention to the quiet murmurs from the other journalists gathered around the interview area. You was simply doing your job; and doing it exceptionally well. Questions like that were sharp, necessary, and invaluable for the network’s upcoming coverage, not to mention the official Formula 1 broadcast team. — Well, you had never been known for going easy on your questions. As a matter of fact, you had never once taken it easy on that particular driver.
Jungkook let out a quiet, breathy laugh, almost unable to believe what he was being asked. — You were unbelievable. — Years of experience had taught him to recognize a provocation from a mile away, and he’d learned to deal with it in his own way; to answer it in his own way. His smile widened, making the piercing on his lip catch the light, as he narrowed his eyes at you.
He almost felt like congratulating you on the question.
“Look…” — He said your name with unmistakable cynicism and a hint of arrogance, never letting the sly, barely charming smile leave his lips. Listening closely, you leaned in toward Jungkook. — “I didn’t realize they’d started handing out psychological evaluations around here.”
“Then what’s the verdict?” — You pressed, making it clear you expected an answer.
“Confidence.”
“Not even a little recklessness? Maybe just in the heat of the moment?” — You furrowed your brows, meeting his answer with the slightest hint of skepticism.
Oh, you knew that infuriating driver all too well.
“No.” — He shook his head. Reaching for his water bottle once again, he took a long drink, easing the dryness in his throat. Moments later, a team member handed him a cap, which he slipped on without hesitation; he was grateful, he’d had enough of the sun beating down on his face. — “If I’d been driving recklessly or acting on impulse, you’d be interviewing someone else instead.” — Jungkook pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, an old habit of his. — “Right?”
This time, it was your turn to take a deep breath. Silently, you thanked your cameraman for keeping you out of the frame and focusing solely on the driver. Jungkook enjoyed the attention, but he rarely looked directly into the camera. — Instead, his eyes remained fixed on you. — Watching, with unmistakable satisfaction, your reaction to his answer.
“Fair enough.” — You gave a slow nod in agreement. Moistening your lips, you broke eye contact with Jungkook for the briefest of moments before meeting his gaze again. — “But does that mean you believe you know better than your team?”
“I think i know exactly what my car is capable of.”
For the second time during the interview, your name rolled effortlessly off Jungkook’s bold, unwavering lips. The way he said it was so firm, so assured. — It almost seemed as though he enjoyed the taste of your name, savoring every syllable. He never missed an opportunity to say it just as he occasionally made a point of using your last name as well.
Truthfully, — with all the honesty Jeon had been raised with, something he remained deeply grateful to his family for — your surname rolled off his tongue like a fine wine, one of the young driver’s favorites. Perhaps that was why he always found himself coming back to it, savoring the sound each time he spoke it.
You hated that damn man.
“Interesting, Jungkook.” — This time, the cameraman turned the lens toward you, bringing you into the live broadcast for the first time. A moment later, he swept the camera across the crowd, the teams, and the drivers who had secured podium finishes before settling back on the two of you. — “Some people, and plenty of fans, believe that taking that risk simply wasn’t necessary.”
Before returning to Jungkook, the camera briefly caught Taehyung in the background, waving to the crowd and blowing a small kiss toward the cameraman.
“So do you enjoy taking risks?” — A faint smile tugged at your lips. — “Why?”
Oh.
Jungkook knew. — You weren’t talking only about the race or his performance in the Grand Prix. It was foolish to think he could escape one of your loaded questions. Keeping his razor-sharp tongue ready to answer you as professionally as possible — a habit that had fueled countless whispers throughout the paddock and the media alike — had never been enough to win this little game the two of you insisted on playing.
The lead driver for the Italian team didn’t answer immediately. Maybe the journalist had finally left him speechless, someone would undoubtedly comment that on social media. Or perhaps it would become the headline of an article or, more likely, a gossip site. — His PR team was probably in for an exhausting few days ahead; then again, that was exactly what they were paid for, complaints or not.
“Not always,..” — Jungkook narrowed his eyes once again, never once breaking eye contact with you. His jaw tightened, yet his expression remained composed, unwavering; far too composed for someone so accustomed to hiding what he was truly thinking. — “Only when the reward is truly worth it.”
For a brief moment, neither the murmur of the teams, nor the relentless clicking of cameras, nor the roar of the fans seemed to exist. Jeon’s answer lingered in the air, deliberately open-ended, inviting far too many interpretations.
The brief, almost suffocating, silence that settled between you and the driver felt unusually heavy, an unexpected pause for both the viewers and the cameras. He knew exactly where his words could land, whether for better or for worse. — The two of you needed to remember that you couldn’t stand each other. One careless slip, and the carefully choreographed game you had been playing for years would unravel into a spectacular disaster.
A complete fucking disaster, in fact.
Holding Jungkook’s gaze for only a few seconds, just long enough to make sure not a single damned emotion slipped through in front of the camera, — or the countless other cameras, broadcasters, and rival journalists surrounding you. — tour lips curved into a flawless smile. The same polished, unmistakably professional one. Then, you turned your attention back to the cameraman.
“Congratulations on a brilliant victory, Jungkook!” Instead of offering your hand first, as etiquette would normally dictate in your role, Jungkook was the one who reached out. Your eyes dropped to his large, tattooed hand. — “Thank you for your time.”
He gave a small nod, his posture remaining effortlessly relaxed. A quiet, almost inaudible “thank you” slipped from his lips before he released your hand and took his leave.
Stepping away from the interview area, Jeon made his way back toward the team, greeting engineers and mechanics along the way; they nearly snatched the cap right off his head in celebration. — Every second of it was being captured. — Now, all that remained was for the second driver to finish his interview before they could finally celebrate the way they truly wanted. He could hardly wait to enjoy his victory.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOUR WINNER OF THE MONZA GRAND PRIX: JEON JUNGKOOK!”
The hotel room — located, as you recalled, near Lake Como — remained bathed in semi-darkness, softly illuminated by the region’s amber and orange light filtering through the curtains of the massive glass window; it was the tail end of the afternoon.
His tattooed hands found your waist with such familiarity — a perfect fit — pulling you close even though you were already in bed; his cunning lips captured yours in an urgent, utterly famished kiss. It seemed as though he had spent the entire day holding back that damned desire — which was true. Jungkook was acting with a ferocity, perhaps even something more intense than that.
Your fingers slid along the back of the oldest's neck, tousling and tugging at his dark hair as you deepened the kiss. It was slow one moment, then intense the next. — He caressed your tongue, licking and sucking on it with immense satisfaction; he knew you enjoyed it, and you felt yourself becoming all the more aroused. — Low moans and vibrations occasionally escaped him. — The faint taste of metal from the jewelry in Jungkook’s lip intrigued you; it was a sensation you never tired of.
"Do you ever get tired of trying to kill me during your interviews?" — Breaking away from your mouth with a loud, wet pop, Jungkook planted a series of soft, quick kisses along your cheek. Both of you struggled to catch your breath and return to normal.
"Well, it's my job, babe." — You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling a slight tension in his shoulder muscles. Hearing your man’s low chuckle, you raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, really?" — Jungkook’s lips grazed yours again. — "So, you know more than your team?" — He mimicked your voice, trying his best to hit the perfect tone while maintaining a professional air. You laughed, amused by the cheap imitation, and called him "insufferable." — "You like it, i know you do."
"Mmh…" — You murmured, sounding needy. You felt his hands roaming over your stomach, caressing it with up-and-down strokes beneath your T-shirt. Soon, Jungkook lowered his head, practically rubbing against you as he trailed a path of soft kisses down your body; it was obvious what he was after.
Jungkook lifted your T-shirt up toward your chest, exposing your midriff; he planted long kisses and traced patterns with his tongue, as if sketching something on your skin. Then, moving closer to your bare legs — grateful that you were wearing nothing but panties — he wasted no time settling right between your thighs; aside from the missionary position, this was one of his favorite places to be.
As he pulled off your panties and tossed them aside, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, Jungkook furrowed his brows and nearly let out a groan at the sight of the wet sheen on your pussy.
"Like i said, it's my jo…" — You were about to argue, just to tease him for fun, when you were cut off by the sensation of his tongue sliding between your folds; your pussy was met with a long, slow lick. — "Fuck!" — You groaned loudly, letting out a whimper right after. Your boyfriend's tattooed hands gripped your hips, as if trying to hold you fast.
Jungkook’s moan, as he savored your taste, vibrated through your body, sending a wicked jolt and a shiver down your spine. He sucked on your folds, unbothered by the wet, utterly filthy sounds he was making, and with every passing second and opportunity, he inhaled your scent, openly acknowledging his obsession with you. — He murmured things like "don't move, my love" and "stay perfectly still, just like that," but it was no use.
Your hips ground against his mouth, — it wasn't your fault, and you swore to him you were trying to hold back — but your waist would lift involuntarily from the spasms, prompting Jungkook to grip you tighter; he licked you fervently, teasing your clitoris with the tip of his tongue. Just the way you liked it, a technique you’d learned from him.
"Aegi, please…" — You pleaded in a muffled voice, lifting your eyes toward him. A thin thread of saliva connected his mouth to your pussy. — "Easy now." — Jeon murmured gently; though it didn't seem like he was holding back as he devoured you. He immediately went back to sucking you, instantly penetrating you with his tongue.
"Shit, Ggkie…" — Your fingers found your hardened nipples beneath your shirt, squeezing them to cope with the pleasure driving you mad. Jungkook sucked your clitoris, licking it like a sweet treat, then moved down to your wet, pulsing opening; you could feel his nose brush against your clitoris every now and then. — "Like that, just like that…" — You stammered.
That bold tongue — the one that used to curse you out whenever he ran into you in the paddock or the Ferrari garage — was sliding in and out of you. It savored his favorite taste, working over your entire pussy and leaving no spot unattended. He knew his chin and nose were slick with the mixture of your juices and his saliva.
"Always doing your job so well." — His words vibrated through your body; Jeon knew how much you loved praise. He noticed your thighs trying to summon the strength to squeeze him. — "The best of them all." — He kissed your sensitive little bud. — "And you're all mine." —
Shit, shit, shit.
A wave of burning heat, mingled with shivers, intensified in your belly; you felt a tingling sensation and a slight, maddening itch. With your legs trembling and goosebumps racing across your skin, you were drawing closer and closer to orgasm. — The urge to weep from sheer, overwhelming desire, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, washed over you. You tugged at the driver's hair, making him groan in pain, while digging his short nails into your skin.
"Jungkook, ugh," — You whimpered, drool spilling from your lips. — "Please, please…" — You were begging for something, though you didn't know quite what; there was no need to plead or implore him. Jungkook would have given you anything anyway.
"Come on, Jagiya." — He soothed. His voice calm, husky, and sweet. — "Give it to me, come on." — Amidst his licks and a long, deep suck on your clitoris, you climax right into Jungkook’s mouth. The wet, loud sounds coming from between your legs were intense; he didn't want to leave a single drop behind.
Well, the articles and headlines hadn't lied when they called him selfish.
Boldly, Jungkook spread your pussy open with his index and middle fingers in a "V" shape to gain better access and lick you all over, while your legs practically smothered him. — But, unfortunately, his dream of dying between your beautiful thighs was still a long way off. — Disregarding your body's hypersensitivity, he wanted to savor your climax.
That man was impossible, unbelievable. — At least he was yours.
recent jungkook fanfics that you should read for your own sanity.
(a recommendation for all the girlies who miss him like crazy!)
one rule by @/jasminefanfics on youtube
— dark romance, mean and morally ambiguous jungkook, hostage au, enemies to lovers, smut, love triangle (but it’s just a deranged schizophrenic being the ‘bone in a kebab’ for the gorgeous couple)
— this is ART. this is true unleashed YEARNING. dark ROMANCE done right, literally the perfect read for winter! this is my absolute fav read of this year 🫦
bonded by @borathae
— werewolves au, forced marriage au, childhood besties to lovers, angst, romance, smut.
— will this queen ever stop producing art after art? she’s not capable of doing that, god this was such a good read, I’m still not over this, THIS IS MY SHEYLA FR! (iyykyk) they’re everything to me gawd 🥺
mon révé by @sweetcarrotsandroses97
— archdeacon jungkook, forbidden love, age gap, romani character reader, dark romance.
— I’ve never read something so beautifully, perfectly executed, every scene she wrote is plastered into my brain, the amount of times i think about this fic is not normal, I’m desperately awaiting the new chapters 😔✋🏼
the love prognosis by @awrkive
— friends to lovers (the og), medical au, unrequited love, roommates trope.
— nobody gets them like I do fr! my precious ship! 🥺😻🤲🏼 i loved how down bad he was for her from the beginning, we love a man who worships the ground his woman walks on LIKE AHHHH the author executed the one sided pining from jungkook so well! THE ANGST IS DELICIOUS IN THIS.
christmas & chill series by @girlygguk & @lovieku
— special xmas edition, jungkook and reader.
— the way I’m about to eat this up. u guys aren’t ready for the obnoxious amount of times I’m gonna be crying ab this whole series on my blog, oh lord have mercy on me, this is so brilliant oh how i wanna kiss their hands for this, SUCH DIVAS BOTH OF THEM 🫦
infrunami by @kooktrash
— friends to lovers, mutual pinning, smut, angst.
— boom shakalaka yes gawd! after I completed reading this fic, i took a moment to myself, clapped and took a lap around my bedroom, then I also did a 7 min standing ovation, this deserves more hype ngl.
burning hour by @jungqkook
— established relationship, smut, exhibitionism.
— the amount of times i’ve re read this is embarrassing but it is that LEVEL of good, oh god when is it my turn to experience something like this?
— reading this made me feel like im watching a melodramatic story of two idiots who literally can’t live without each other, its a cute lighthearted read, 100% recommend!
when the stoic and devastatingly handsome sir jeon jungkook is appointed as your personal knight, sworn to guard your royal highness with a will forged from steel, you quickly discover that his greatest strength may also be his most infuriating trait, he is utterly immune to you. no matter how tightly you lace your corset, he remains the perfect knight, eyes respectfully averted, jaw set like stone. but while sir jungkook may be a man of steel, you are a princess accustomed to getting what you want, and with every sinful intention of discovering whether even the realm’s most loyal knight could be brought to his knees for you.
⎯⎯ pairing: knight jungkook x princess y/n
warnings: erotica, forbidden medieval fantasy au, porn with plot, age gap, yearning, size difference, oral fixation (f.), unprotected sex, the princess is very horny, cold,dom!knight, bigdick!knight, breeding, pregnancy trope, war brutality, motherhood, subtle angst
word count: 20.5k
The great hall of the royal palace echoed with the murmurs of the assembled court. The King sat upon his throne, his stern gaze sweeping over the line of elite knights who had come to compete for the highest honor in the realm, becoming the personal protector of his only daughter, the princess, you.
The position was coveted for many reasons, but none more obvious than the princess herself.
Beauty had always been your burden as much as your blessing. Tales of it traveled farther than merchants and faster than ravens, crossing borders until even distant courts spoke your name with a mixture of admiration and longing. Princes penned verses in your honor without ever meeting you. Even seasoned knights, men hardened by war and duty, often found themselves disarmed by nothing more than a smile.
With your coronation fast approaching, the kingdom stood on the brink of celebration. It would be the grandest event seen in decades, drawing princes, dignitaries from every corner of the continent. Some would arrive seeking alliances. Most would arrive seeking you.
The prospect amused you more than it excited you.
“Protecting my daughter is not merely a matter of strength,” your father’s voice boomed through the hall. “It demands unyielding discipline and absolute loyalty. You will each face three trials. The princess herself will accompany you, so that you may prove your worth in her presence.”
Your eyes swept slowly across the line of knights standing before the throne, a faint mask of boredom kissing your beautiful face, certain that none of them would truly be able to handle you.
For years, entertaining yourself at the expense of knights had become something of a pastime. A lingering touch against a gauntleted hand, a mere whispered compliment that left disciplined warriors suddenly forgetting their own names. Watching them struggle to maintain their composure was endlessly amusing.
You had notoriously toyed with men like this, living wildly beneath the weight of your royal title, and your father knew this better than anyone. That was precisely why he had designed these trials.
He wasn’t simply looking for the strongest sword arm. He wanted a knight with sharp intellect and the rare ability to withstand your constant attempts to live life on your terms rather than as a perfectly mannered princess.
A small, intrigued smile played on your lips when the first few knights stepped forward. They were impressive in brute force, but you could already tell they would crumble the moment you decided to play.
Then he stepped forward.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Even fully armored, with only his dark, piercing eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet, once his unflinching gaze met yours for a brief second, a strange spark ignited low in your belly. You tilted your head, studying those dark eyes with growing interest.
The first trial took place that very evening in the smaller banquet hall. Only a select few courtiers were present. You sat at the high table beside your father, sipping from a jeweled goblet.
Unknown to the competing knights, the King had arranged for one of the wine pitchers to be laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Harmless, but potent enough to leave the princess disoriented and vulnerable. Only the King, a few trusted advisors, and the princess herself knew of the plan.
The knights had been given only one instruction: protect the princess. No further details.
As the evening progressed, the effects of the draught began to take hold. Your thoughts grew pleasantly hazy, movements slower. The jeweled goblet nearly slipped from your grasp once before you caught it. A second time, you laughed at something that had not been particularly funny.
Several knights noticed. Some were too busy trying to appear vigilant, eyes constantly scanning the room for imaginary assassins.
A few noticed your condition and drew dangerously close. One insisted on helping you stand despite the fact that you had not asked for assistance. Another rested a hand against your lower back almost inappropriately while guiding you through the room. One knight even smiled when he realized how heavily you leaned upon him after stumbling.
The courtiers watched everything. So did the King.
You were beginning to feel genuinely annoyed when a tall figure stepped silently between you and yet another overeager knight.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Unlike the others, he had not hovered around you all evening. He had remained where a royal protector belonged, close enough to intervene, distant enough to respect your space.
Dark eyes studied your face through the narrow opening of his helmet. “The princess has had enough wine,” he declared.
The knight beside you scoffed. “She seems perfectly fin—”
“She does not.”
You watched surprise flicker across the other knight’s face.
Sir Jungkook’s hand briefly closed around your forearm as you swayed, steadying you before immediately letting go the moment your balance returned.
Within moments he had summoned two ladies-in-waiting to accompany you back to your chambers. When another knight offered to carry you himself, Sir Jungkook declined on your behalf before you could even answer.
“Her reputation is as important as her safety.”
For the first time all evening, genuine curiosity stirred within you.
Most men saw opportunity when they looked at you. Some saw beauty, a few saw a future crown. Yet somehow, Sir Jeon Jungkook seemed to see only his duty.
As the ladies guided you toward the doorway, you glanced back over your shoulder.
“How noble of you, Sir Jungkook,” you teased, voice softened by the draught. “Are you always so resistant to temptation?”
His gaze never wavered. “My duty is to protect Your Highness.”
For reasons you could not quite explain, that response lingered in your thoughts far longer than any flirtatious remark ever had.
The final trial was, by all appearances, the simplest.
After weeks of staged attacks, hidden tests, the remaining candidates expected one final demonstration of skill. Some anticipated a duel. Others believed they would be sent to defend the princess from another fabricated threat. Instead, the King announced that the last trial would consist of a single week of personal duty beside the princess. No further explanation was offered.
The knights were disappointed.
You, however, knew exactly what your father was doing.
The trial was not designed to test strength or intelligence. It was designed to test restraint.
Most of the candidates failed within days. Some became overly eager whenever you requested their company.
Others ignored palace protocol the moment you suggested bending the rules. One knight allowed you to wander through the city market without informing the royal guard because he was too eager to please you. Another accepted an invitation to share wine in one of the palace balconies despite knowing perfectly well how improper it appeared. Every failure was carefully observed and quietly recorded.
Only one knight remained infuriatingly impossible.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
The more you watched him, the more determined you became to discover his weakness. Surely he had one. Everyone did.
At first, your attempts were harmless. During walks through the palace gardens, you lingered beside him instead of remaining ahead as protocol dictated. During meals, you directed most of your conversation toward him. More than once, you deliberately brushed your fingers against the steel of his gauntlet while speaking. Other knights would have turned crimson. Some would have stumbled over their own words.
Sir Jungkook merely stepped aside and continued his duties as though nothing had happened.
Perhaps it was the way every other knight had spent the past weeks attempting to impress you, the King, or the court.
Where others sought favor, he sought only to fulfill his duty. And thus, when the day of the final judgment arrived, the outcome surprised absolutely no one.
Your father rose slowly from his seat.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook,” he declared, voice echoing through the hall. “You have successfully completed all trials. You have shown not only strength and intellect, but the rare ability to anticipate danger and resist… temptation.” His gaze flicked briefly to you. “From this day forward, you are hereby appointed as the princess’s personal royal knight and protector. Guard her with your life. And may the gods help you.”
A murmur rippled through the court.
You turned toward Sir Jeon Jungkook, stepping just close enough that your crimson gown brushed his armor.
“Welcome to my service, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered so only he could hear. “I do hope you’re prepared. Resisting me may prove to be your greatest trial yet.”
His dark eyes held yours with unshakable strength. “I was under the impression I had already passed that one, Your Highness.”
—
Having Sir Jeon Jungkook follow you around all day wasn’t ideal.
It had not even been three months since his appointment as your royal knight, yet his constant, silent presence had already begun to grate on your nerves. He was always a towering shadow in dark armor, never more than a few steps behind. What annoyed you most was his utter lack of reaction.
No matter how boldly you flirted, no matter how you tightened your corset in front of him until your breasts nearly spilled over, no matter how many times you “accidentally” brushed against him, he remained perfectly composed.
What bothered you most of all was that you still had no idea what he looked like. Only those dark, intense eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet. The rest of him remained hidden behind steel, a constant, frustrating mystery.
The journey to the neighboring kingdom for the grand alliance celebration had been long and stifling. You rode in the royal ornate covered carriage borne by four strong horses and guarded on all sides. The extravagant gown you wore was beautiful but suffocating, the tight corset pressing against your ribs and making every breath feel like a struggle. Boredom weighed on you like lead.
Your dearest friend, Lady Isolde rode beside you in her own litter. She was to be wed in a month, and the two of you had spent the journey giggling like girls again, whispering behind silk curtains.
“He’s so tall,” Isolde teased, peeking through the gap toward where Sir Jeon Jungkook rode steadily beside your litter. “And those eyes… I wonder what the rest of him looks like under all that steel. Do you think he’s handsome, or just another brute?”
You laughed softly, though your gaze lingered on the narrow slit of Jungkook’s helmet, where those dark, intense eyes remained fixed forward.
“As if,” you replied, laced with mock boredom. “He’s far too proper. I could tighten my corset until my breasts nearly spill, and he wouldn’t even glance.”
Isolde giggled. “You should try. For science.”
Sir Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward the litter for the briefest second before returning forward. You smirked. Annoyed as you were by his constant, unflinching presence… you were also undeniably intrigued.
That night, after the feasting and music had died down and the royal party made camp near the forest’s edge, you slipped away, desperate for even a moment of peace, and determined to test just how far his restraint could stretch.
The air had grown chilly, carrying the faint bite of early autumn as you made your way to the forbidden stretch of the deep bend where the river water ran swift and dangerously deep. No one was permitted here after dark, especially not the princess.
You knew he would follow.
The heavy footsteps of armor soon echoed behind you on the rocky bank.
“Your Highness,” Sir Jungkook’s deep voice rang out, firm. “This area is strictly prohibited at night. The currents are treacherous and the water is far too cold. We must return to the palace at once.”
You barely looked at him. Your eyes were fastened upon the vast expanse of the river, moonlight dancing across its dark surface like scattered diamonds. You wanted nothing more than to feel the cool waves kissing your bare skin, to swim freely under the moon with no eyes judging you in, except his.
A small, unusually kind smile touched your lips as you turned toward him.
“Why don’t you join me, Sir Jungkook?” you asked softly, your voice carrying on the gentle night breeze. “Just for a little while. The water looks so peaceful tonight.”
Sir Jungkook stood like a statue in his dark armor. “Your Highness… that would be highly improper,” he replied, voice low. “I am here to protect you, not to… bathe with you.”
You let out a soft, melodic laugh and began walking toward the river’s edge, the hem of your gown brushing the grass.
“Well, I suppose then…” you bit your lip, your fingers moving to the laces of your gown with aching slowness. “I shall swim, and you will stand guard like the loyal knight you are.”
You could feel his intense eyes watching through the narrow slit of his helmet as you loosened the ties. The rich fabric slid from your shoulders like liquid silk, pooling at your feet.
Completely bare under the moonlight, you wore nothing beneath. Your skin glowed luminous and your full breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples already stiff from the cold night air. The curve of your waist flared into soft hips, and the smooth, delicate skin between your thighs was on full display.
Sir Jungkook immediately turned his head sharply away, staring fixedly into the dark trees.
“Your Highness!” His voice was strained. “This is highly inappropriate. I cannot allow—”
“You don’t have to allow anything,” you cut him off, dripping with defiance. “You’re not permitted to touch me while I’m bare. So you’ll just have to stand there.”
You waded into the river with a soft gasp. The icy water bit into your skin, but the thrill of rebellion pushed you forward. You swam out deeper, the cold making your body hypersensitive.
You glanced back at the bank. Sir Jungkook stood like a statue, head turned away, refusing to look at your naked form even once. His armored fists were clenched tightly at his sides.
A thrill of satisfaction ran through you.
You felt exhilarated. Free. And wickedly aware that the most disciplined man in the kingdom was standing on the bank, fighting not to look at you.
“Are you really going to stand there all night, Sir Jungkook? The water feels wonderful… and I’m all alone out here.” You swam further out, the cold water caressing every inch of your bare skin. A soft, content sigh escaped your lips.
It would be a plain lie if you said you weren’t at least a little relieved that he had followed you. The deep bend was no joke. its treacherous currents and deadly depth were feared even by The King. Yet here you were, aching to tear down the walls of the knight who refused to bend to your charms.
You floated lazily on your back, letting the moonlight kiss your bare skin. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you took your chance.
Once a subtle current tugged at your legs, you gasped dramatically, flailing your arms and letting out a soft, helpless cry. “Oh—!”
You fought back a giggle, pretending to be a damsel in distress, knowing the current wasn’t strong enough to truly endanger you. You wanted to see if you could finally crack his composure.
But the gods had other plans.
Without warning, a far more treacherous undercurrent slammed into you like a living beast. It dragged you under violently, twisting your body, filling your mouth and nose with icy water. Real panic surged through you as you lost your breath and sight in the black depths.
“Jungkook!” you screamed, the sound barely coherent as water rushed into your lungs. This time, it was no act.
Sir Jeon Jungkook did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He plunged into the river fully armored, cutting through the violent current with powerful strokes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking your naked body against his steel chest as he fought the river with raw, expert strength. You clung to him desperately, coughing and gasping as he dragged you back to the rocky bank.
The moment he pulled you ashore, his helmet caught on a low hanging branch and was ripped clean off.
You lay on the grass, gasping for air, when your eyes finally focused on the man hovering above you.
And you forgot how to breathe.
Sir Jeon Jungkook was devastatingly, unfairly handsome.
Wet raven black hair clung to his forehead and sharp, sculpted cheekbones. Water droplets traced the strong line of his jaw and dripped from sensual lips. His dark eyes, now fully exposed, were intense and beautiful, framed by long lashes and thick brows. A faint scar graced his left eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise perfect masculine beauty.
Before you could speak, he swiftly grabbed his crimson cloak and draped it over your naked body, covering you completely with careful reverence. His gaze remained locked strictly on your face, never once drifting to your exposed skin.
“Are you okay, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rough with concern. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he noticed the way you were staring at his now-bare face.
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The combination of the dangerous current, the shock of nearly drowning, and the overwhelming sight of your knight’s true face left you dizzy and speechless.
Your vision blurred. You passed out in his arms.
Sir Jungkook pulled you closer against his armored chest, one large hand gently brushed your wet hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you like a warrior carrying his lady, your head resting against his broad shoulder, body wrapped securely in his cloak, legs draped over his arm as he carried you back to his mare.
He mounted carefully, keeping you nestled safely against him as the horse began the journey back to the palace through secret paths.
You woke briefly as he laid you down on the thick rug before the hearth in your royal chambers. The fire was already roaring. You were still wrapped in his cloak, beneath it only a thin silk bandeau now clung to your body, the delicate material barely containing your breasts, pressing them together in a deep, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each shaky breath.
You trembled from the cold and the lingering shock of the river.
Sir Jeon Jungkook remained kneeling by the fire, his movements precise as he stoked the flames. Water dripped from his raven hair onto his armoured shoulders. Then he rose to his full, imposing height, towering, broad shouldered.
Without a word, he reached for his helmet, which rested upon a nearby oak chest, clearly intending to conceal his face once more.
“No,” you whispered, your voice soft yet commanding as you pushed yourself up on one elbow. “Do not put it back on.”
The knight paused, gloved hand hovering above the helm. His dark eyes met yours, intense and conflicted.
“Your Highness… it is not fitting for me to stand before you unveiled,” he said, his voice carrying the formal cadence of a sworn knight. “I must maintain the dignity of my position.”
You sat up fully, the cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin and the edge of the silk bandeau. Despite the cold still clinging to your bones, warmth bloomed low in your belly as you gazed upon his face, truly beheld it for the first time.
“Come closer,” You rose to your knees on the rug, the cloak parting further as you reached for him. “Let me see you properly.”
He hesitated, every line of his powerful frame taut with restraint. Yet he obeyed, lowering himself once more to kneel before you. Even on his knees, he remained nearly at your eye level, so tall and broad was he.
You lifted a delicate hand and brushed your fingers through his damp raven locks, pushing them back from his forehead. A contented sigh escaped your lips.
“You are far too pleasing to look upon, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered, almost in awe. “I had wondered what lay beneath that steel. Never did I imagine such a face.”
Sir Jungkook remained perfectly still on his knees before you. His hands rested tensely on his armoured thighs as he fought to keep his gaze fixed on your face and not the way your breasts strained against the thin silk bandeau.
“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he replied, voice low. “But I am your knight. Nothing more. Please allow me to restore my helmet.”
You shook your head slowly, refusing to let him hide again. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers still buried in his damp raven hair.
A new, overwhelming wave of admiration and obsession washed over you. This man... this mature, hardened, breathtakingly handsome knight was kneeling before you like a devotee. The realization sent a fresh rush of heat between your thighs.
“You’re older than me, aren’t you?” you murmured softly, continuing to caress his hair with gentle strokes. “Hardened by battles and years I haven’t yet seen.”
You wondered how many more scars he carried beneath that heavy armor hidden across his broad chest, his strong back.
“I am twenty eight, Your Highness,” he answered quietly, his deep voice carrying that disciplined tone you were growing addicted to.
“Tell me something personal,” you said, your voice turning playful yet curious. Your fingers trailed from his hair down to trace his cheekbone once more. “Have you ever been with a woman, Sir Jeon? Truly been with one?”
His jaw tightened visibly. The question crossed every boundary a knight was sworn to respect.
“Your Highness… such questions are not appropriate for me to answer,” he replied. You leaned in even closer, still stroking his hair tenderly, your breath brushing against his skin.
“But I want to know,” you whispered. “Have you ever touched a woman the way a man touches a lover? Ever kissed one?”
Jungkook’s breathing grew slightly heavier. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours with iron discipline, though you could clearly see the storm brewing behind them.
“I have not, Your Highness,” he finally answered, voice low and honest. “My duty has always come first.”
A thrill ran through you at his confession. You let your fingers drift lower, brushing along his sharp jawline. “And if a woman wanted you… desperately?” your voice dropped to a near whisper. “If she wanted your mouth between her thighs… your tongue tasting her, would you deny her?”
The impure question hung heavy in the air between you. You shocked even yourself with how boldly it slipped out, but the vivid image, his devastatingly handsome face trapped between your legs, mouth glistening with your arousal made the heat bloom even more slick between your thighs.
Sir Jungkook’s hands clenched tighter on his armored thighs. A faint flush colored the tips of his ears and neck, but he remained on his knees.
“Your Highness,” he said, reverently, “I am sworn to protect you. Not to… indulge in such thoughts.”
You smiled softly. Then you leaned back on the bed, letting the crimson cloak fall open completely. The thin silk bandeau was the only thing left covering you, and even that felt too much now.
“Then I command you,” You looked down at him, this powerful knight on his knees before you, and felt a rush of pure need. “I want your mouth on me, Jungkook. Right now.”
“Your Highness, I—”
“Touch me,” you breathed, cutting him off. “Please, Jungkook…”
You reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to your chest. Slowly, you pressed his large palm over the thin silk bandeau, letting him feel the soft, heavy weight of your breast. Your nipple was already painfully hard beneath the fabric.
Sir Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arm flexing under the armor as he fought against every instinct.
You didn’t stop there, dragging his hand lower, sliding it down your stomach until his fingers rested between your thighs. You were soaked. your petals slick and hot against his gloved fingers.
“Feel how damp you make me,” you whispered, voice shaking with need.
Sir Jungkook let out a low, strained groan. His dark eyes were fixed on your face, but you could see the violent war happening behind them.
The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on — the princess, the future queen, was laid out before him in nothing but a flimsy silk bandeau, legs spread, pressing his hand against her dripping cunt.
“Your Highness…” he rasped, albeit desperate. “This is beyond forbidden. You are royalty. I am sworn—”
“I don’t care,” you whimpered, grinding slowly against his gloved fingers. “I need you. I’ve never felt this way before. Touch me now, my knight. Please.”
His hand trembled. For a long moment, he simply rested there, feeling your wetness soak through the leather of his glove. Then, with a broken exhale that sounded like surrender, his fingers moved.
He stroked along your soaked folds, parting the delicate petals of your most secret flower. And what a flower it was... a lush, glistening rosebud blooming only for him. Your outer lips were soft and swollen with need, flushed deep, delicate like the first blush of dawn.
As he gently spread you open, the inner petals revealed themselves: silky, and impossibly tender, layered like the finest rose in full bloom after a summer rain. At the center lay your sweetest nectar, dripping and honeyed, flowing abundantly from your aching entrance.
The knight didn’t know what came over him, but your pulsing heat and slick, puckering folds had him utterly entranced. His breathing grew ragged. You could see the way his throat worked, the way his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He was drooling.
“May I lick you, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with barely contained hunger. “Please… allow me to taste you.”
The desperate plea from such a disciplined man sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you.
“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your thighs wider for him, your voice trembling with raw need. “Use your mouth on me, Jungkook. Lick your princess until she cannot think.”
The moment the words left your lips, something in him broke. Sir Jungkook leaned in and dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly up your soaked slit. The first full taste of you pulled a deep, guttural groan from his chest. You were intoxicatingly sweet and dripping with arousal. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every slick fold as if he were drinking the finest wine in the kingdom.
You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as overwhelming pleasure flooded your body. The sensation was brand new, so intense it made your legs twitch violently.
“Oh... Jungkook!” you moaned, fingers digging into his raven hair.
The knight’s tongue circled your swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth, then plunged inside your tight heat, ravishing you with slow, deep strokes. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth eagerly eating you echoed through the chamber, obscene, and shameless.
The most beautiful woman he had ever known, the future queen, was thrashing beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head, soft whimpers and loud moans spilling from her pretty lips.
Your hips rolled desperately against his face, coating his tongue, lips, and chin with your sweet release. Sir Jungkook drank every drop you gave him, groaning against your cunt as his own cock strained painfully against his armor.
He had never tasted anything so addictive.
You were already twitching, gasping, legs trembling so hard they threatened to close around his head. The pleasure was too much, too new, too overwhelming for your body.
Suddenly, Sir Jungkook pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your juices. His dark eyes looked up at you, breathing ragged.
“Should I continue, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with lust and devotion. “Tell me… do you want more?”
You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, pussy throbbing, dripping onto the mattress beneath you.
“Please don’t stop,” you whimpered desperately. “Keep licking me... please...”
The knight obeyed instantly. He buried his face back between your thighs and attacked your clit with relentless strokes of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard on your swollen pearl.
The pleasure hit you like a storm.
Your entire body seized up. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you gushed on his tongue. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, vision blurring at the edges.
You nearly passed out from the sheer intensity of it. body twitching, chest heaving, soft cries still falling from your lips as the pleasure refused to let go.
Sir Jungkook stayed between your thighs through every tremor, drinking down every last drop of your release like a man who had finally found salvation.
When your body finally went limp, trembling and oversensitive, he gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling back, his handsome face flushed and glistening with your arousal.
You could barely speak, still catching your breath as you stared at the sight of your proud, disciplined knight with your release shining on his lips.
—
“The Princess requires her knight’s escort to the eastern tower for stargazing.”
The message was innocent enough on paper. But the court had begun to notice how often you summoned Sir Jeon Jungkook for these private “duties.” Some whispered that the Princess trusted no one else. Others envied the knight who had earned such unwavering favor from the realm’s greatest beauty.
They had no idea what really happened once the tower door was bolted.
In the eastern tower under the stars, you would push Sir Jungkook against the cold stone wall and demand his mouth on you again. He always hesitated at first, “Your Highness, we mustn’t…” but the moment you looked at him with those wide, needy eyes and whispered “Please, Jungkook… I ache for you,” his resolve crumbled.
He would drop to his knees in full armor, push your skirts up to your waist, and bury his face between your thighs. The sounds he made while devouring you were filthy and desperately loud. wet slurps and deep groans as he drank every drop of your arousal. You quickly learned to muffle your loud moans against your own arm or his shoulder, thighs shaking violently around his head as he brought you to shattering orgasm after orgasm.
He never asked for anything in return at first. But one night, after he had made you come so hard you saw stars, you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you freed his thick, aching cock from his breeches.
You had never seen the knight fully bare, but you had tasted him.
You took him into your mouth with clumsy but eager hunger, sucking and licking until he was groaning your name like a prayer, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head. When he spilled down your throat, you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.
The tension between you only grew hotter, more forbidden.
You began creating excuses just to be close to him.
You “accidentally” wandered into dangerous parts of the forest during hunts. You “lost” your way in the palace corridors at night. You deliberately teased foreign dignitaries until they grew too bold, all so Sir Jungkook would have to step in, pull you protectively against his armored chest, and hold you there while scolding you with his low voice.
Each time, you nestled your head against his chest plate, breathing in his scent, feeling safe in a way you had never felt with anyone else.
One quiet afternoon in the royal rose gardens, while the other knights kept their distance. The summer blooms were at their peak, rows upon rows of crimson roses spilling over marble trellises in a riot of color and fragrance. Courtiers often compared them to you. You had heard the comparison so many times throughout your life that it had long since lost all meaning.
Your attention was elsewhere when Sir Jungkook paused beside a rose bush heavy with crimson blooms. Reaching out, he selected a single flower and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before approaching.
“A gift?” you asked.
“If Your Highness would accept it.”
The answer surprised a smile from you.
He stepped forward and tucked the rose behind your ear. His gloved fingers lingered only for a second before withdrawing, but even that brief touch seemed to affect him more than he wished to admit.
When you looked up, his gaze was fixed upon the flower. “Beautiful things are dangerous,” he said quietly.
You laughed. “I believe roses are dangerous for everyone except gardeners.”
His expression didn’t change.
“I wasn’t speaking about the rose.”
Your heart fluttered so violently you had to look away. it was becoming impossible to deny how deeply you were falling for him.
The kisses grew sloppier, more desperate with every stolen moment.
In the abandoned library, your knight would press you against the bookshelves, helmet removed, and kiss you like he was drowning, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might vanish. You kissed him back just as hungrily, tugging at his hair, moaning softly into his mouth while your hand palmed the hard bulge in his breeches.
Your hunger for him was insatiable. You ached for his presence constantly. The court noticed how you lit up when he entered a room, how you instinctively moved closer to him during gatherings. They saw devotion, they saw trust.
They never saw the way you both held each other’s eyes like lovers who knew their time was stolen.
The relationship was utterly forbidden. Your father would banish him, or worse, if he ever discovered the truth. But neither of you could stop. Something real was blossoming between you.
The knight admired your wild, rebellious spirit. You admired his quiet strength and unwavering honor. In the darkness, you were no longer just princess and knight. You were becoming each other’s secret salvation. And it was only a matter of time before the tension finally snapped.
—
The Coronation.
The kingdom was in full celebration. Banners of the finest gold flew from every tower. The greatest event in decades had arrived, your coronation as Queen.
Princes from across the realms had come in droves, each more eager than the last to win your hand and the throne beside you. They brought lavish gifts, performed in grand tournaments, and showered you with compliments. The entire court watched with bated breath, waiting for you to choose.
You sat upon the raised dais in a breathtaking gown of white, looking every bit the ethereal queen-to-be. But your eyes kept drifting to the tall, armored figure standing silently behind your throne, Sir Jeon Jungkook.
He had become even more composed in public, yet you could feel the storm raging beneath his helmet. Especially when you decided to play your cruel little game.
Prince Min of Veina leaned close during the feast, whispering sweet nothings about your beauty. You laughed brightly, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers linger, leaning in just enough for your neckline to offer him a generous view of your breasts.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Sir Jungkook’s gloved hand tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.
Another prince, a golden haired lord from the eastern isles, offered you a rose during the garden promenade. You accepted it with a coy smile, twirling it between your fingers while glancing toward your knight.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned behind the helmet. You could feel his jealousy like a living thing, hot and barely contained.
That night, after the feasting and dancing, you summoned him to the eastern tower under the usual pretense.
The moment the door closed, he was on you.
The knight pinned you against the cold stone wall. The single rose you’d been idly twirling between your fingers, a gift from one of the many princes, fell forgotten to the floor.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned with something almost feral.
“You will be wed off soon?” he growled dangerously, breath hot against your ear.
You looked up at him, heart racing. Your long, wavy hair had finally been let down after the long day, cascading over your shoulders and hips like dark silk. The tight corset of your white coronation gown was already loosened, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.
“What do you think about Prince Min?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “I think he’s quite lovely. So charming. He even said he would worship me every night once we’re wed.”
Sir Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it crack. The jealousy that had been simmering all day threatening to explode.
“Doesn’t it drive you mad, Sir Jeon?” You leaned in closer, letting your breasts brush against his armored chest. “Knowing your princess, the one you’ve been secretly devouring every night, is wanted by so many powerful men? That they all dream of putting a ring on my finger and taking me to their beds?”
“It is exquisite torture, Your Highness,” he growled, eyes burning. “Watching them look at you like they have any right to you. Knowing I’m the only one who’s ever tasted you, the only one who’s ever made you scream.”
His raw honesty sent a sharp thrill through you. You bit your lip, loving the way jealousy sharpened his features, making his dark eyes appear even more intense. He was possessive and barely holding himself back. And you wanted to push him further.
You stepped away from the wall with a teasing smile, walking over to the tall, gilded mirror that stood near the fireplace. The white gown still clung to your body, hair cascading in long, wild waves down your back. You picked up a silver brush and began slowly running it through it, watching him in the reflection.
Sir Jungkook followed you like a shadow, stopping just behind you. His tall, powerful frame loomed in the mirror, twice your size, radiating heat and restrained fury.
“Does that bother you, my knight?” A teasing smile played on your lips. “Knowing that soon I might have to let another man—”
You didn’t get to finish. Sir Jungkook’s large hand closed around your wrist, stopping the brush mid stroke. He plucked it from your fingers and set it down with a deliberate clack. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling your back flush against his armored chest.
Your breath hitched. The playful boldness you’d been wielding all night vanished in an instant.
“Enough,” he growled low against your ear, “You’ve teased me enough tonight, Your Highness.”
His dark eyes burned into yours through the mirror. The intensity there made your knees weak. This wasn’t the restrained, obedient knight anymore. This was a man who had finally reached his limit.
He reached around you and slowly began unlacing the rest of your corset. The white gown loosened further, slipping down your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as he tugged it lower, exposing your full breasts to the cool air and the warm firelight. Your nipples were hard, flushed, and sensitive.
Sir Jungkook’s hand cupped one breast possessively, squeezing it as his thumb brushed over the stiff peak. You gasped, arching into his touch.
“Look at yourself,” he ordered quietly, voice rough. “Look how beautiful you are. How perfect. And yet you let them think they could ever have this.”
He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you whimpered. His other hand slid down, gathering the fabric of your gown and pulling it up to your waist, fully exposing your bare cunt in the mirror.
Your face bloomed bright red as you instinctively tried to close your legs, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the sight of yourself so lewdly displayed, flushed and completely bare in the golden firelight.
But Sir Jungkook wouldn’t allow it. His large hand gripped your thigh firmly, spreading you open again as he pressed his body harder against your back.
“Don’t hide,” His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, intense and commanding. “Look how filthy and wet you are for me.”
You shivered, unable to tear your eyes away from the reflection. The contrast was obscene, your ethereal white gown bunched around your waist, breasts exposed and heaving, legs spread wide while his armored body loomed behind you like a dark, possessive shadow.
Sir Jungkook’s hand returned between your thighs. Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, parting them slowly so you could see everything in the mirror. You whimpered at the sight, embarrassed yet unbearably aroused.
“So beautiful,” he breathed as he circled your swollen clit with his fingertip. “This is what belongs to me. Not to any prince. Not to anyone else.”
He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began ravishing you with slow, deliberate strokes that made wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet tower.
You tried to close your legs again, overwhelmed, but he held them open with ease, his grip firm and unyielding.
“Watch,” he ordered softly, voice dark with lust. “Watch how easily I can make my princess fall apart.”
Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your cheeks were flushed deep crimson, lips parted in shameless moans, breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.
The pleasure built fast and merciless. Your legs started shaking, thighs trembling violently as you fought to stay upright.
Sir Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firm circles on your swollen clit.
You came hard with a broken cry, arousal gushing down his wrist and dripping onto the stone floor beneath you. Your head fell back against his armored shoulder, body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through right after.
The knight dragged his arousal coated fingers from your pulsing heat and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while his dark eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. The obscene sight made you whimper, legs pressing together instinctively. This time, he allowed it.
You pulled away from him shyly, legs unsteady as you walked toward the wide couch near the fireplace. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover your bare breasts, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.
Sir Jungkook approached you ever so slowly. His heart was pounding. you could see it in the rise and fall of his broad chest. The way your flushed cheeks and shy posture made you look so adorable only made his desire burn hotter.
He stopped in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. Without a word, he gently uncrossed your arms, exposing your breasts again. You tried to cover them once more, but he caught your wrists softly.
“You’re too beautiful to hide, my love.” he murmured, voice low.
He leaned down and took one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. You gasped sharply, hands flying to his shoulders as overwhelming sensitivity shot through you.
“Jungkook... it’s too much...” you whimpered, lightly pushing at his shoulders, cheeks burning with shyness.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and affection. “You’re so sensitive here,” he whispered, almost in awe. He flicked his tongue over your nipple again, watching your reaction closely. “So angelic when you tremble like this.”
He sucked harder, alternating between your breasts, licking and biting softly until you were a whimpering mess, pushing at him weakly while your body arched into his mouth.
You grew frustrated at the unfairness, nearly naked while he was still fully armored. With a small, determined huff, you pushed him back slightly and began tugging at the straps of his armor.
“It is not fair,” you muttered, cheeks still flushed. “You get to see all of me, but I still haven’t seen you.”
The knight let you undress him, helping you remove piece after piece until he stood completely bare before you for the first time.
Your breath caught.
He was magnificent. Broad shoulders, powerfully sculpted chest marked with old scars, some long and faded, others newer. A few dark tattoos adorned his left pectoral and ribs. His abdomen was ridged with muscle, leading down to narrow hips. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and already hard.
You stepped closer, running your hands over his bare chest, tracing every scar with reverent fingers, exploring the strong lines of his back, more scars mapping his battles. He stood perfectly still, letting you admire him, though his breathing had grown heavier.
“You are… so manly, my knight,” you breathed, barely coherent, as your hands returned to his chest, sliding down the hard ridges of his abdomen. “So big… so perfect.”
The room had grown hotter, heavier. The air between you felt charged with months of suppressed longing. Your breaths mingled as you stared into each other’s eyes... yours wide with awe and desire, his dark with barely restrained hunger.
Sir Jungkook’s control finally snapped. He lifted you and laid you down on the wide couch near the fireplace, pinning your exploring hands above your head with one large hand, holding them there firmly before his body hovered over yours, powerful and imposing, thick cock resting heavy against your inner thigh.
“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.
You did, heart hammering.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.
You squirmed beneath him, aching and desperate. “Take me,” you pleaded, trembling. “Please, Jungkook… give it to me. I need you inside me.”
Sir Jungkook let out a low groan at your words. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. He was big, almost intimidatingly so. You felt the stretch even before he pushed in.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Your Highness,” he whispered, voice strained with worry and barely contained lust. His dark eyes searched yours, torn between desire and restraint. “You’re so tight...”
You trembled beneath him, legs parted wide around his hips. “Please,” you begged softly, cupping his face. “Don’t hold back. I need you. All of you.”
The knight exhaled shakily and began to push inside.
The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply as the thick head of his cock breached you, slowly forcing your walls open. Inch by thick inch, he sank deeper, filling you in a way you had never experienced before. It burned sweetly, bordering on too much, making your nails dig into his shoulders.
“Ah... Jungkook…” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming fullness.
He paused halfway, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, rough. “I’ll stop. I swear it.”
But you shook your head, wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I need you deeper… please.”
With a low groan, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The fullness was devastating. You felt so stretched, so completely claimed, that for a moment you could barely breathe.
Sir Jungkook stayed still, letting you adjust, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks.
“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice filled with awe and lust. “Such a good girl for me.”
When the burn finally melted into aching pleasure, you rolled your hips experimentally.
“Move,” you whispered. “Please… ruin me.”
That was all it took.
Sir Jungkook’s control snapped completely. He pulled back and thrust into you hard, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Jealousy and months of pent up desire fueled every powerful stroke. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt filled the tower, mixing with your loud, broken moans.
He was a knight sworn to protect the crown, now utterly ruining the very sovereign he had pledged his life to shield.
“Mine,” Sir Jungkook growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a dark mark. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”
He ravished you relentlessly, claiming you, marking you. His mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into your breasts, biting your collarbone, licking the tears from your cheeks. He pinned your wrists above your head again, hips snapping against yours with raw need.
You came hard the first time, screaming his name as your walls clenched violently around his thick length. But he didn’t stop. He took you through it, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, on the wide couch.
First, he worshipped.
The knight dropped to his knees behind you, his large hands spreading your cheeks reverently. He leaned in and pressed slow, open mouthed kisses along the curve of your royal backside, lingering presses of his lips that made your breath hitch. He kissed lower, then lower still, until his tongue dragged hot and wet over your soaked folds from behind.
“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot and heavy. “So divine. And yet I am going to ruin every sacred inch of you.”
Then the worship turned into ruin.
He rose, gripping your hips with white knuckled force, and thrust into you from behind in one deep, devastating stroke. You cried out sharply at the stretch, the thick length of his cock forcing your walls open, filling you so completely it stole your breath.
You sobbed in pleasure, fingers clawing at the cushions as he drove into you relentlessly. The power he exerted over you was intoxicating. this hardened warrior, dominating you utterly while still worshipping every tremble of your body.
“You belong to me,” he rasped, ruining you with slow, devastating strokes now. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Only yours, Jungkook... ahh!”
By the third round, you were a sobbing, whimpering mess, tears streaming down your face from overwhelming pleasure, body covered in his marks, cunt swollen and dripping with your combined release.
He took you in every way he could: against the wall, bent over the couch, riding him as he sat on the edge of the seat, then finally on your back again with your legs over his shoulders as he drove impossibly deep.
All night long, the tower echoed with your moans, his deep groans, the obscene wet sounds of your bodies joining. He claimed you utterly and completely devoted.
When he finally came for the last time, buried deep inside you, he held you tight, spilling pulse after pulse of hot seed into your womb, filling you until you felt impossibly full, claimed from the inside out.
Sir Jeon Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every word.
“You command the entire kingdom, my lady,” he whispered reverently, “but here in this hidden place… you are mine to ruin.”
You could only tremble in his arms, utterly spent, legs wrapped around his waist, heart pounding wildly as the fire crackled beside you.
The weight of what you had just done, and what it meant for both of you settled uncomfortably in the air. But in that moment, wrapped in his powerful arms, marked and filled by your knight, nothing else in the kingdom mattered.
The days that followed were a delicate illusion of peace.
It was late morning when you found yourself in the secluded royal bathing pool fed by a gentle river, surrounded by floating lily pads and white blossoms that drifted lazily on the current. The water was warm, scented with rose and lavender oils poured in by your maids. Sunlight filtered through the overhanging willow branches, casting soft, dappled light across the surface.
You leaned back against the smooth stone edge, your long dark hair floating around you like ink in water. Your body still carried the secret marks of the previous night, faint bruises on your hips, love bites hidden beneath the waterline, and a persistent, delicious ache between your thighs that reminded you with every shift who had claimed you so thoroughly.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and old, wise Selyse moved around you carefully. They had raised you since you were a babe, more mothers than servants. They knew you better than anyone.
Elara poured another stream of warm water over your shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush that still lingered on your cheeks.
“You are glowing again this morning, my lady,” she said lightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “One might think the moon itself had kissed your skin.”
Verra, younger and bolder, laughed softly as she massaged oil into your scalp. “Or perhaps a certain tall, dark eyed knight has been keeping you… well attended.”
You felt your face heat, but you couldn’t stop the small, secret smile that curved your lips.
Selyse, the eldest, clicked her tongue but her eyes were soft with affection. “Hush, you two. Our princess has always been radiant. Though…” she tilted her head, studying you, “there is a new light in her eyes these days. And a certain weariness in her step that speaks of long nights.”
You bit your lip, sinking a little lower into the water as lily pads brushed against your skin.
“It is nothing,” you murmured, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.
“Nothing?” Vera teased, wading closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially.
“We have seen you grow from a wild little girl into this breathtaking woman. We know your heart. And we know it does not belong to any of those puffed up princes parading through the halls.”
You reached out, squeezing Elara’s hand, then Verra’s, your voice dropping to a shy, trembling whisper.
“It is true,” you confessed, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. “I have given myself to Sir Jeon. Body and heart. He is the only man I have ever wanted. The only one who has ever touched me.”
For a heartbeat, silence fell over the bathing pool. Then came the gasps.
Elara’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. Verra let out a delighted little squeak, nearly dropping the oil vial. Even old Selyse, usually so composed, looked momentarily stunned before her face broke into a warm, knowing smile.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” Elara breathed, scandalized, thrilled. “You wicked little thing! With your own knight? Right under the King’s nose?”
Verra giggled uncontrollably, splashing water playfully in your direction. “And here we thought you were simply fond of him! All those late night ‘stargazing’ trips… you minx! Was he gentle? Was he… big?”
“Verra!” Selyse scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She turned to you with motherly affection. “Though I must admit, we have suspected for some time. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching… that man is utterly gone for you, my lady.”
You buried your face in your hands, mortified but unable to stop the shy, giddy smile spreading across your lips. Your gaze drifted across the river to where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard a respectful distance away, half hidden among the willow trees.
Even from here, you could feel the weight of his stare. He stood tall and imposing in his armor, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with a quiet, burning intensity that always made your stomach flutter.
You bit your lip, still flushed from both the warm water and the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body claiming you so thoroughly the night before.
“He is… everything,” you whispered dreamily, more to yourself than the maids. “Strong. Honorable. And when we are alone… he worships me like I am his entire world.”
Verra let out another delighted laugh. “As he should! Our princess deserves nothing less. Though if the King ever finds out…”
Selyse gently squeezed your shoulder, her voice softening with both love and concern.
“Then we will protect your secret as fiercely as we have protected you all these years,” she said. “You deserve to love who you love, my dear. Crown or no crown.”
You looked back at Sir Jungkook again. He hadn’t moved from his post among the willow trees, tall and steadfast in his armor, but your heart ached with a sharp mix of fear and wonder.
If The King ever discovered the truth, he would not spare your knight. Sir Jungkook would be banished, or worse. And you… you would be married off immediately to seal the wound.
The thought disturbed you deeply.
You turned back to the water, forcing a smile for your maids, but the warmth of the bath could no longer chase away the chill settling in your chest.
—
The rumors had begun to spread like fire through the palace corridors.
A lesser knight claimed he had seen “suspicious movement” near the eastern tower. One of the visiting princes mentioned, with a sly smile, that the Princess seemed unusually attached to her personal guard. Nothing concrete, nor proven. But the whispers were growing louder.
Your maids noticed your distraction immediately. During your morning dressing, Verra fastened the laces of your gown with unusually tight pulls, her voice urgent.
“My lady… you must be more careful,” she whispered. “Some of the king’s men have been asking questions about Sir Jeon. They say he spends too many nights away from the barracks. And one of Prince Min’s retainers swears he saw a tall figure slipping into your wing after midnight.”
Elara’s hands paused on your hair. “The knight is being cautious now. He avoids being seen with you as much. But you… you still look at him like he hung the moon. It is only a matter of time before the King hears something he cannot ignore.”
Selyse placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her eyes full of love and worry. “You are playing with fire, sweet girl. And fire does not care how much you love it.”
Your heart clenched with fear. You hadn’t seen your knight alone in a week. He had been deliberately distant, protecting you both by keeping his distance. The absence gnawed at you like hunger.
That night, you sent for him under the pretense of needing extra security for a private walk in the inner courtyard.
The moment the hidden door to your chambers closed behind him, you were on him.
You pushed Sir Jungkook against the wall, frustration and fear pouring out of you in a desperate kiss. Your hands fisted in his tunic, tugging him closer.
“Where have you been?” you demanded between kisses, voice shaking. “I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought my father had already—”
“I’m here,” he whispered against your lips, rough with emotion. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you. “I’m right here, my love.”
But then he pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours. His dark eyes were filled with pain.
“I cannot stay,” he said quietly. The words hit you like a blow. “Your father has ordered me to lead a company to the western borders. There have been reports of raiders. He says it is to prove my devotion to protecting the realm… and you. He also made it clear I can no longer linger so closely around you. The rumors are growing too loud.”
You stared at him, heart shattering.
“No,” you whispered, then louder, “No. You cannot leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”
Tears stung your eyes as the hurt poured out.
“After our first night, you pulled away. You kept your distance like I was poison. And now you’re leaving entirely? What if something happens to you out there? What if I lose you forever? I can’t take it, Jungkook. I won’t survive it.”
Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the straps of his armor with desperate, angry fingers.
“I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about the borders. I only care about you.”
Piece by piece, you stripped him. The armor fell to the floor with heavy clangs until he stood completely bare before you, broad chest, scarred skin, powerful frame looking every bit of the warrior he was. You shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.
Sir Jungkook’s hands moved instinctively to the laces of your corset, trying to free you fully, but you slapped his hand away, tears already glistening in your eyes.
But the knight was patient. He sat up slowly, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, and gently cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness.
“My love,” he whispered, voice soothing, “Let me worship you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”
He leaned in and captured one of your sensitive breasts in his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue swirled around your stiff nipple, drawing a shaky moan from you. He moved to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and licking until your back arched and fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, this time from overwhelming sensation and emotion.
Holding you close, then gently but firmly, Sir Jungkook leaned back, gripping your hips and guiding you upward. In one rapid motion, he pulled you over his face, settling you directly onto his waiting mouth. Your soaked folds pressed flush against his lips and tongue, your thighs framing his head as he looked up at you with pure hunger.
“Use me,” he growled against your dripping folds, the vibration sending sparks through your core. “Pleasure yourself on my tongue love. I want to drown in you.”
You hesitated for half a second, still shy and nervous, cheeks burning hot even as your body screamed for more. But the frantic ache between your legs won out. You lowered yourself more fully, your slick cunt sliding over his mouth, his nose buried against your clit. He groaned loudly, the sound muffled and obscene as he immediately speared his tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking at your juices like a man starved.
You started moving almost desperately, grinding down with frantic little rocks of your hips. Shyness still flickered in your chest, making you whimper and bite your lip, but the pleasure overrode everything. Your hands braced on the headboard as wet, filthy sounds filled the room, the slick slide of your cunt over his tongue, his eager slurping and moaning, the way he sucked your swollen clit between his lips and flicked it mercilessly.
“Oh gods...” you gasped. Your thighs trembled around his head as you grew bolder, grinding harder, smearing your arousal all over his face. He gripped your cheeks, spreading them, holding you down so you could use him exactly how you needed. His tongue ravished in and out of your dripping hole, then flattened to lap broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, devouring every drop.
But it wasn’t enough.
You lifted off his face with a wet pop, strings of your arousal connecting you to his glistening mouth. His eyes were dark, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. Before he could speak, you slid down his body impatiently.
You straddled his hips, wrapped your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, and sank down onto him in one frantic motion.
The stretch made you cry out, but you didn’t stop. You rode him hard, bouncing on his length with frantic, emotional need, your breasts bouncing heavily with every harsh drop of your hips.
“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed, riding him faster, tears falling onto his chest. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t lose you. Not after this. Not after you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”
He thrust up to meet you, matching your desperate rhythm, his strong hands gripping your hips to guide you deeper.
“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice breaking with the same pain. “But I must. Your father commands it. I have to prove my loyalty… so I can stay by your side.”
You leaned down, kissing him messily through your tears, riding him like you could keep him here forever if you just moved fast enough.
“Then stay inside me,” you begged, voice cracking. “Fill me up. So deep that a part of you stays with me even when you’re gone. I want to carry you with me when they try to take you away.”
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply. His hands tightened on your hips as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath his powerful body.
He made love to you then, with deep, devastating strokes that reached the very core of you. His mouth never left your skin, sucking marks into your neck, whispering promises between every thrust.
“You are mine,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling deeply. “I will come back to you. I will fill you again and again until you swell with our future.”
You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging desperately as another orgasm built inside you. When it finally crashed over you, you sobbed his name, walls pulsing tightly around his thick cock.
Sir Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a low, guttural groan. He came hard, flooding your womb with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your souls together.
Even after, he stayed buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to your damp forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.
“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, small and broken. “I love you too much.”
Sir Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “I know, my love,” he murmured. “And that is why I must return to you. No matter what.”
The weeks following Sir Jungkook’s departure had stretched into an endless gray fog.
You moved through your royal duties like a ghost wearing a crown. You sat through council meetings with a straight spine and a hollow smile, listening to nobles bicker about alliances, trade routes while your mind wandered back to your knight’s strong arms. Every night since, your bed felt too large, too cold. You would press your face into the pillow he had once used and fight the ache in your chest.
You missed him with a desperation that bordered on madness.
This morning was no different. You had barely kept your breakfast down before the maids helped you into a heavy velvet gown the color of deep wine for yet another assembly with potential suitors. The princes and lords from neighboring kingdoms were growing impatient. Your coronation was only a month away, and the pressure to choose a consort was mounting like a noose around your throat.
By midday, the nausea returned with a vengeance. You barely made it through the formal greetings before excusing yourself to the private solar, hand pressed to your mouth.
Elara followed quickly with a basin. You retched violently into it, eyes watering.
“Your Highness…” she whispered, rubbing gentle circles on your back.
“I’m fine,” you rasped, waving her away. “Just… something I ate.”
But it wasn’t.
Later that evening, after the day’s obligations were finally over, Vera and Selyse insisted on the usual massage to ease the tension in your shoulders. They helped you out of your gown until you lay on the wide cushioned table in nothing but a thin silk shift.
The moment Selyse’s skilled hands moved over your breasts, the older maid froze.
Verra, who was working on your legs, also stilled.
“…Your Highness,” Selyse said carefully, “Your breasts… they are fuller. Tender, yes?”
Your breath hitched. You had noticed it days ago but had tried to ignore the swelling, the sensitivity. The way even the softest fabric sometimes made you wince.
Verra’s hands gently pressed against your lower belly, not quite a touch, more an assessment. “And the sickness every morning… the fatigue… the way you’ve been crying in your chambers…”
Your eyes filled with tears. You turned your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking.
Selyse knelt beside the table, taking your hand gently. “My lady… are you with a child?”
You didn’t answer at first. Then a broken sob escaped you.
“I think so,” you whispered. “I… I don’t know for certain, but the timing…” Your voice cracked. “It would be his. Sir Jungkook’s.”
Both maids exchanged a heavy glance. This changed everything.
Verra spoke softly, “My lady... with your coronation approaching. The lords are already circling like vultures, pushing their sons at you. If this comes out before you choose a prince…”
“I know,” you said, voice muffled. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I know what it means. But I can’t… I can’t just marry one of them. Not when I’m carrying the child of the only man I’ve ever loved.”
You sat up slowly, clutching the silk shift to your chest, arms wrapped protectively around your still flat stomach.
“My dear knight...” you sniffled. “He is out there fighting gods-know-what, and I’m here pretending to be the perfect princess while my body betrays our secret.”
Selyse brushed a strand of hair from your face with motherly tenderness. “We can hide it a little longer, Highness. Looser gowns. Ginger tea for the sickness. But you must decide soon what path you will take. The child… it will not stay hidden forever.”
You nodded, but your heart was breaking all over again. The thought of choosing one of those cold, ambitious princes while carrying Sir Jungkook’s child made you feel ill all over again.
Selyse pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice firm with loyalty. “We pray he returns soon, my lady. And until then, we will guard you and this little one with our lives.”
—
The weeks blurred into months as winter settled over the kingdom like a heavy white shroud. Snow blanketed the towers and gardens, turning the world soft and silent, yet inside your chest, the storm only grew louder.
Sir Jeon Jungkook had not returned.
Your belly had swelled noticeably now, a gentle but undeniable curve that marked the life growing within you. With the help of Elara, Verra, and Selyse, you hid it beneath layers of loose, flowing gowns and heavy cloaks lined with fur.
The rich fabrics concealed the truth for now, but you could no longer ignore the way your body changed, the tender fullness of your breasts, the occasional flutter of movement beneath your skin, and the constant, bone deep exhaustion.
You had begun excusing yourself from the suitors’ assemblies more frequently, claiming headaches or matters of state. But the King, grew increasingly impatient.
In the grand throne room one frost laced afternoon, he fixed you with a stern gaze as snow fell outside the tall windows. “You cannot delay any longer, daughter,” he spoke, heavy with royal command. “Prince Min of Viena is a strong candidate. The coronation is weeks away. You must choose a consort soon. The realm needs stability.”
You bowed your head, hands clasped tightly over your hidden belly beneath the voluminous velvet. “Yes, Father,” you murmured, the lie tasting like ash. Inside, your heart screamed for the only man you wanted.
Every few days, with your maids’ help, you sent letters. Verra would sneak them to a trusted rider, sealed with your private wax. You poured your soul onto the parchment; how much you missed him, the way your body was changing, the secret you carried, your love that only deepened with every passing day. Yet no responses ever came. The silence gnawed at you, feeding nightmares of him lying wounded on some distant battlefield or worse.
The worry became unbearable.
One bitter winter morning, wrapped in a thick hooded cloak that concealed your swollen middle, you slipped away from the castle with only Elara and Selyse accompanying you. The three of you rode through the snow dusted forest to a modest stone cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom, the home where Sir Jungkook had grown up.
When the door opened, an older woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her dark hair stood before you. Sir Jungkook’s mother. She froze at the sight of the princess on her doorstep, her hand flying to her chest.
“Your Highness…?” she whispered, stunned. “Surely I do not deserve to be blessed with your presence at my humble door. Please, come inside before the cold takes you.”
She ushered you, Elara, and Selyse quickly into the warm cottage, the scent of pinewood and baking bread wrapping around you like an embrace. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as she helped you remove your snow dusted cloak. Only when you were seated by the fire did her gaze drop to the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath the loose gown.
You took a steadying breath, your hands resting protectively over your rounded stomach.
“I carry his child,” you said softly, trembling with emotion. “Your son’s. Sir Jungkook’s. He does not know yet… he has not returned, and I… I needed to feel close to him somehow.”
Jungkook’s mother, Maera, stood completely still for a long moment, her eyes wide with shock. Then her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Oh… gods above,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “A grandchild…? From my Jungkook?” Fresh tears flowed freely as she dropped to her knees in front of you, taking your hands in hers with deep reverence. “My lady… my princess. You honor me beyond words. You honor my son. To think that you, a royal daughter, would carry his child… I am stunned. Truly stunned. And so deeply moved.”
She pressed her forehead to your knuckles, weeping quietly with pure joy and emotion. When she lifted her head again, her eyes shone with fierce affection.
“You are already family to me,” she whispered. “Come here, sweet child.” She rose and pulled you into a warm embrace, cradling you gently as if you were made of glass. “You must be so frightened, carrying this secret alone while he is away. But you are not alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.”
You felt safe in her arms, the weight on your heart easing just a little as winter wind howled softly outside the cottage walls.
After composing herself, Maera wiped her tears and fetched a small wooden chest from a shelf. She sat beside you, opening it with trembling hands.
“Look,” she said tenderly, pulling out several treasured items. She showed you a faded sketch of a chubby baby with dark, serious eyes —Sir Jungkook as an infant. Another portrait showed him as a sturdy little boy of four, holding a wooden sword with determination. There was even a lock of his soft baby hair tied with a ribbon.
“He was always so intense, even as a babe,” she said with a watery laugh. “Strong and quiet… but when he smiled, the whole world lit up. Just like I imagine your little one will.”
You traced the portraits with gentle fingers, tears slipping down your own cheeks. Seeing these glimpses of him as a child made your love for the knight swell even deeper. You could so clearly picture your baby with his eyes, his strength, his rare smile. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and longing.
Maera kept one hand over yours, cherishing you openly. “Thank you for coming to me,” she murmured. “For trusting me with this precious news. We will wait for him together, my daughter. And when he returns, he will be the happiest man alive.”
The two of you sat by the fire for a long while — his mother and the mother of his child, talking softly as snow continued to fall outside, bound by love for the same man.
The days after your visit to Maera’s cottage only deepened the ache in your soul. Winter grew harsher, and so did your impatience. Every morning you woke with your hands on your swelling belly, feeling the strong kicks of his child, and the longing became unbearable.
One evening in the royal chambers, you fell to your knees before the King, tears streaming down your face. “Father, please… I beg you. Bring Sir Jungkook back. I need him. I cannot do this without him.”
The King frowned, confused by your desperation. “Daughter, he is leading my forces on the border. The realm needs him there. Why this sudden insistence on one knight?”
You could not tell him the truth. “I just… need him,” you whispered brokenly. “Please.”
He did not relent. The pressure to choose a suitor only intensified.
And then the sickness took hold.
Your body ached constantly. deep soreness in your back, hips, and breasts that made every movement painful. The baby’s kicks, once a comfort, now left you breathless. You grew feverish and weak.
Elara, Verra, and Selyse rarely left your side, forcing herbal teas and bitter medicines down your throat while piling warm blankets over you. For nearly a week you were bedridden, barely able to leave your chambers, hidden away from the court under the excuse of a winter chill.
One cold, silent night, as snow tapped gently against the window panes, you drifted in and out of a fevered haze. The herbs made the world soft and blurry around the edges.
You thought it was a dream when the heavy door to your chambers opened with a quiet creak and a tall, familiar figure stepped inside, shedding his snow dusted cloak. The firelight caught on his sharp jawline and those intense dark eyes.
Strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you carefully as he climbed into your grand bed. A warm, calloused hand gently cradled your swollen belly. You felt the press of soft, reverent lips against the curve of your stomach.
“My love…” The knight’s deep voice whispered against your skin, rough with emotion. “I’m here. I finally came back to you.”
“Jungkook…?” you murmured drowsily, eyelids heavy, unsure if this was real or another cruel dream born of longing and medicine.
“It’s me,” he breathed, pulling your body flush against his solid chest. He was real. warm, solid, smelling of snow, leather, and the faint scent of campfires. “I’ve been aching for you every single day. Your touch, your voice… it kept me alive out there.”
His large hand stroked slow, soothing circles over your rounded belly, feeling the baby shift and kick beneath his palm. He lowered his head, pressing his lips directly to the taut skin.
You let out a tired, broken sound. “You left me… You promised you’d come back sooner. Look at me… I’m so sore, so heavy with your child, and you weren’t here…”
Sir Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound warm against your skin, even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, my princess. I deserve your scolding. I’m deeply sorry.” He kissed your belly again and again, soft open mouthed presses wherever he could reach. Then he trailed his lips higher, attaching his mouth gently to the swollen, aching curve of your breasts, sucking lightly and kissing away the soreness with such care that you whimpered in relief.
His hands never stopped moving, massaging the deep ache in your lower back, cupping and gently holding your heavy breasts to ease their weight, stroking your hips and thighs. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly as if afraid you might vanish.
“You are unreal, my love.” he murmured, voice hoarse with awe as he looked at you. “Your glow… it’s deeper now. The way pregnancy has changed you… you’re beyond anything I could have imagined. You shine like starlight. Carrying our child has only made you more radiant, more mine.”
You clung to him weakly, drowsy but desperate for his touch. “The baby… it kicks so much. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl… but it feels like you. Strong and stubborn.”
Jungkook smiled against your temple, one hand still resting warmly over your belly. “This child is the product of our love. A piece of both of us. I already love them more than life.” He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring months of aching into it. “Every battle, every cold night, I thought only of coming home to you like this… holding you, feeling our baby move, worshipping the body that’s creating our future.”
He continued kissing every place that ached... the sides of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the inside of your wrist, his mouth soft and devoted. You melted into him, the pain easing under his gentle care as he held you close.
“Stay…” you whispered tiredly, already slipping back into sleep.
“I’m here right now,” he promised, lips brushing your ear. “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you both.”
When morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, you woke slowly, body still aching but strangely comforted.
The bed beside you was cold. No warmth lingered. No cloak on the chair. No scent of him on the pillows. Only the faint memory of strong hands, whispered words to your belly, and soft kisses remained.
You touched your swollen stomach, feeling another firm kick, and tears filled your eyes.
Was it a dream? A fevered hallucination woven from medicine, longing, and love? Or had Sir Jungkook truly returned to you in the dead of night… only to disappear again before dawn?
The herbs and medicines your maids prepared worked their magic. The fever finally broke, the deep soreness in your body eased into a manageable ache, and the constant nausea faded. Though you were still tired, your strength slowly returned. Your belly continued to grow rounder and heavier, the baby’s kicks becoming more insistent and lively.
One quiet winter evening, when the moon hung full over the snow covered palace, your maids turned your chambers into a secret sanctuary.
Accompanied by Sir Jungkook’s mother, they had worked together in absolute secrecy. No one outside your trusted circle knew. They had decorated the large private solar adjacent to your bedroom with soft candlelight, evergreen boughs, and winter white roses. Warm furs and silk pillows were arranged in a luxurious nest near the hearth. Incense of myrrh filled the air, and a small table held gifts wrapped in fine cloth.
They helped you into a loose, flowing gown of the softest ivory silk that draped beautifully over your swollen belly, leaving your shoulders bare. When you stepped into the room, all four women bowed their heads in reverence.
Selyse took your hand and guided you to the center of the soft pillows. “Tonight we celebrate you, my lady. And the precious life you carry. No one else will know of this blessing. It is ours alone.”
They treated you with deep adoration, as though you were sacred.
Elara gently massaged your feet with warm scented oil while Maera brushed your hair until it shone. Verra offered you sweet honeyed fruits and warm spiced milk, foods meant to nourish both you and the baby. Selyse laid her hands lightly on your rounded belly and spoke soft blessings for a safe birth and a strong child.
Selyse, ever wise, placed a small crown of dried herbs and winter berries on your head. “You are the vessel of love and life,” she murmured. “Even in these uncertain times, you bloom. We honor you as our princess… and as the mother of Sir Jungkook’s heir.”
You felt tears prick your eyes as they presented their secret gifts: tiny embroidered blankets, a soft knitted cap in deep green, a small silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a symbol of motherhood.
Vera leaned her cheek against your belly for a moment, grinning when the baby kicked in response. “He or she is strong already. Just like their father.”
You placed both hands over your swollen stomach, feeling another firm flutter. The warmth of their love and the secret celebration soothed the constant ache of missing your knight.
“Thank you,” you whispered, “All of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Elara kissed your temple. “We will keep you and this little one safe until Sir Jungkook returns. And he will return.”
The warmth of the secret celebration lingered on your skin as you returned to your chambers that night. The maids had just helped you out of the ivory silk gown when a royal messenger knocked urgently.
“The King demands your presence immediately, Your Highness. In his private study.”
You had no time to prepare. Still glowing from the love and blessings of your maids, you wrapped yourself in a heavy velvet robe that concealed your very swollen belly and followed the messenger.
The moment you entered the study, the atmosphere turned icy. Your father stood behind his desk, several of your letters spread before him.
“Daughter,” he spoke, controlled. “I have given you time to come to me yourself. I know you have been sending letters to the front lines. To Sir Jungkook, specifically.” He turned to face you, his expression stern but not yet furious. “I know of your… admiration for him. Speak truthfully now. What is this attachment?”
Your throat tightened. This was the moment. With your belly heavy with his child and your heart aching, you could no longer hide everything.
“Father…” you began, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “It is more than admiration. I love him. Sir Jungkook is the only man I want.” Your hands instinctively moved to cradle your stomach. “And I… I am carrying his child.”
Silence crashed over the room.
The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed sharply as his gaze dropped to the unmistakable swell beneath your gown. His face darkened with shock, then rage.
“You what?” he hissed. “A knight’s bastard? While I have been parading princes before you? While the entire realm waits for you to secure the throne with a proper alliance?”
“Father, please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. “It is his. Our love is real. If you would only let him return, we could—”
The King’s face twisted with fury. “You dare speak such filth to me? A royal princess swollen with a common knight’s bastard?”
You rebelled, voice shaking but defiant. “It is not filth. It is love. I will not marry Prince Min. I will not let you use me as a pawn for alliances while I carry the man I love’s child.”
“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table, making you flinch. “I have been patient with your childish infatuation, but this is treason against your bloodline. You will do as you are told! Your fate is sealed. You will marry Prince Min before the month ends.”
Later that same night, before your maids could even calm you, you found your most trusted rider in the stables. With tears streaming down your face and snow falling around you, you whispered your final message: “Tell him… tell Sir Jungkook that I will wait for him. No matter how long it takes. My heart is his alone. I will wait.”
The rider bowed and galloped into the night. No response ever came.
The next weeks were a nightmare.
Prince Min visited often, his eyes raking over your body with open lust and infatuation. He complimented your “ethereal glow”, clearly aroused by your pregnant form, but his arrogance disgusted you. He spoke openly of claiming the throne through you, of bedding you the moment you were his. You hated him with every fiber of your being.
You fought your father harder than ever, refusing to attend meetings with Prince Min, screaming that you would rather die than marry him. But the King had reached his limit.
One brutal afternoon, he summoned you again and placed a bloodied cloak and a forged letter before you.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook is dead,” he said flatly. “He fell in battle two weeks ago. This is proof.”
The world shattered.
You collapsed to the floor, a guttural sob tearing from your throat. The baby inside you kicked as if sensing your pain. From that moment, you broke completely.
You refused to eat. You barely slept. You stopped speaking, even to Elara, Verra, and Selyse who begged you through tears to think of the child. You lay in bed for days, staring at nothing, your once radiant glow fading into pale exhaustion. Your maids feared for both your life and the baby’s.
Despite how numb you had become, when your maids gently suggested taking you to Maera’s quiet home on the edge of the forest, you agreed without protest. You were taken there in secret under the cover of night.
Maera, a strong but grieving woman with the same dark eyes as her son, took you in without question. She cared for you with quiet hands and even quieter words. You didn’t speak much to her either, but you accepted her care wholeheartedly. After all, she was mourning the loss of her son, and you were mourning the loss of your lover and the father of your child.
The King, despite his fury, still sent guards to watch over you from a distance. You were still royalty, still carrying what he believed might be his grandchild. But you could only think of the protection you once had... the strongest, safest pair of arms that had ever wrapped around you.
You mourned deeply. But you couldn’t be completely selfish with a baby on the way, restless and eager to come into the world.
The labor came on a stormy night.
The pains started suddenly and violently. Maera and your maids worked frantically around you as you screamed and cried, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. The King himself had ridden out in secret when he heard you had gone into labor, standing outside the cottage with a face pale with rare fear.
He didn’t know how to comfort you. He only knew one thing, his daughter was calling for her knight in her delirium.
Even though he viewed the child as the product of a sinful affair, something in him softened at the sound of your broken sobs. He could not lose you.
Inside the cottage, you gave birth to a baby girl.
She was small, chubby, with a shock of raven hair and big, dark eyes that looked exactly like her father’s. The moment the midwife placed her on your chest, fresh tears streamed down your face.
“She looks like him…” you whispered, hoarse and broken. “My little love… she has his eyes.”
You held her close, sobbing softly as the pain and grief mixed with a fragile, overwhelming love. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop crying. You believed Sir Jungkook was dead. The thought that your daughter would never know her father tore you apart.
Maera wept beside you, gently stroking your hair. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Just like her mother.”
Outside, the King stood in the rain, waiting.
When the door finally opened and the midwife stepped out, he demanded to know if you and the child were alive. Upon hearing they both were, something in his hardened heart shifted.
He turned to his captain without a word and gave the order.
“Send riders to the western borders at once. Bring Sir Jeon Jungkook back. Tell him… his princess has need of him.”
It would take time. The borders were far, and the roads were muddy from the storms. A week, perhaps a month.
In the quiet warmth of the cottage, you held your newborn daughter against your chest, wrapped in soft linen.
You rocked her gently as she fussed against your breast, nursing hungrily. Your maids and Maera moved around you, bringing broth, fresh cloths, and ever soft words. But you barely spoke. The grief had hollowed you out.
“I wish you could meet your father,” you whispered to the baby one quiet night, voice cracking. Tears slipped down your cheeks as she latched on again. “He would have held you so carefully. He would have loved you more than anything in this world. He would have protected us both…”
Maera sat beside you, her own eyes red from mourning. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would have been so proud,” she said softly. “Of both of you.”
You could only nod, throat too tight to speak. The emptiness inside you felt endless. Every time the baby cried, every time she looked up at you with those familiar dark eyes, the pain returned like a fresh wound.
The King demanded your return to the palace, as you were still royalty, still bound to your father’s will despite carrying a child out of wedlock. He wrote letter after letter insisting you resume your duties and prepare for the inevitable marriage to Prince Min. You refused to answer most of them.
Your maids tried their best to comfort you, but even they could not reach the depths of your sorrow. The only light in your world was your daughter. Tiny, perfect, with Jungkook’s dark eyes and a tuft of raven hair. You held her constantly, whispering stories about her father, singing lullabies with a voice that often broke halfway through.
You mourned him deeply. The King had not even granted him a proper funeral. No rites. No chance to say goodbye. Just a bloodied cloak and a cold declaration.
One quiet evening, Maera left the cottage to fetch groceries from the nearby village. Your maids had been called back to the palace on the King’s orders, duties they could not refuse. For the first time in weeks, it was just you and your baby in the small, warm cottage.
You sat by the window, cradling her in your arms. She cooed softly, tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you gently rocked her. For a few precious minutes, you allowed yourself to smile a real, soft smile as you played with her little hands and kissed her forehead.
“My baby,” you whispered, “The loveliest babe. Don’t tell the queens and princesses, I think they’d be terribly jealous.”
The baby blinked up at you. “Oh, yes,” you continued solemnly. “Especially of those cheeks.”
You leaned back in the chair as exhaustion eventually won over you, your eyes growing heavy. With your daughter nestled safely against your chest, sleep claimed you quickly.
When you woke, the cottage was awfully quiet.
Your arms were empty.
Panic slammed into you like a physical blow. You shot upright, heart hammering wildly as you looked around the room.
The baby was gone.
“No… no, no, no...” you gasped, stumbling to your feet, voice rising into a broken sob. “Where is my baby?!”
You searched frantically, under the blankets, behind the chairs, near the hearth, terror clawing at your throat. Your mind spun with nightmarish possibilities. Had someone taken her? Had the King sent men to steal her away?
Then you saw him.
A tall figure standing near the doorway, cradling your daughter gently in his strong arms. She was sleeping peacefully against his chest, tiny fist curled into his tunic.
Your knees buckled.
It was Sir Jungkook.
He looked exhausted, travel worn, mud on his boots, shadows under his eyes, but he was alive. Real. His dark eyes met yours, filled with unbearable love and pain.
You stared at him, trembling violently, refusing to believe what you were seeing.
“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, this isn’t real. You’re dead. They told me you were dead. This is another dream. You always come in my dreams and then you leave me again—”
Your voice cracked into a sob as you backed away, hands clutching your chest.
“You left me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You left me and our child. I mourned you. I almost died mourning you. Please… don’t do this to me again. I can’t take another dream. I can’t wake up to find you gone again.”
Sir Jungkook’s face crumpled with anguish. He took one careful step forward, still cradling your daughter like the most precious thing in the world.
“My love,” he said hoarsely, voice breaking. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. Your father… he lied. He sent me away to the borders to keep me from you. But I came back the moment he allowed it. I rode without stopping.”
You shook your head harder, tears falling faster, refusing to believe it even as your heart screamed at you to run to him.
“You’re dead,” you repeated, voice small and shattered. “You have to be dead… because if you’re not, then you let me believe it. You never answered my letters. Not one. I wrote to you every single day, pouring my heart out, begging you to come back to me, to our child… and you never...”
Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as the pain twisted deeper.
“You were in on it, weren’t you?” you whispered, voice breaking. “You let my father tell me you were gone. You left me here to rot in grief while I carried your child alone. How could you?”
The knight’s face crumpled with agony. He took a step forward, but you flinched, and he stopped immediately, hands trembling at his sides.
Before he could speak, your daughter stirred in his arms. As if sensing the suffocating tension in the room, she let out a sharp, hungry cry, her little lips puckering, tiny fists waving.
You moved without thinking, reaching for her. Sir Jungkook gently handed her over, his hands lingering for a moment as if afraid to let go. You turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and loosening your dress to feed her. The baby latched on eagerly, her cries softening into small, contented sounds.
The knight stood there, watching you in silence. He looked lost, this battle-hardened soldier, returned from war, now completely unsure how to comfort the woman he loved. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in the middle of the room, head bowed.
“I wrote to you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every chance I had. Your father… he made sure none of my letters reached you. He wanted you to believe I was gone. I fought every day to come back to you. I almost died trying to get word to you.”
You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes on your daughter, tears falling silently onto her soft hair.
“I mourned you like a widow,” you whispered, voice thick with pain. “I almost died. And now you’re here… acting like you didn’t abandon me when I needed you most.”
The words cut awfully deep. Sir Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, but he stayed on his knees, silent and respectful, giving you the space your wounded heart demanded.
Your daughter stirred in your arms, letting out a small, distressed whimper as if she could sense the storm raging between her parents. You rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her soft raven hair.
“Shh, my sweet one,” you cooed softly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”
Sir Jungkook’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, to touch you, to hold both of you, but he remained still, jaw clenched tight. He was no longer in full armor, only a worn tunic and breeches, his appearance shambled from the long ride, fresh bruises blooming across his knuckles and jaw.
You turned away from him, focusing on the small tasks that had become your life in the cottage. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the roof like a relentless drum.
You moved about the space, stirring the pot of stew over the fire, folding fresh linens, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from breaking completely.
Hours passed in heavy silence. When your daughter finally grew fussy again, you nursed her by the hearth until her little eyes fluttered shut. You laid her gently in the wooden cradle Maera had prepared, stroking her cheek one last time before covering her with a soft blanket.
Only then did you notice movement near the door.
Sir Jungkook was standing there, cloak in hand, quietly preparing to leave.
Something inside you fractured. You stepped toward him, voice cracking. “You’re leaving again?”
He turned slowly, eyes filled with torment. “I was only going to check the perimeter. The rain is heavy, and I… I didn’t want to burden you further.”
You stared at him, this warrior who had survived hell just to return to you, and the dam finally broke.
“Come here,” you whispered.
He obeyed without hesitation.
You led him to your bed and with trembling hands, you began removing his tunic, revealing the damage the war had left behind.
New bruises painted his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Fresh scars, still healing, cut across his chest and abdomen. He looked harder, a man who had walked through fire and barely returned.
Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to stay steady. You turned away briefly, gathering clean linen strips, salve, and a bowl of warm water. When you returned, the knight stood perfectly still, letting you see all of him, the bruises, the brutal evidence of everything he had endured just to return to you.
You began tending to him in silence, your hands gentle as you cleaned a particularly nasty cut along his side. But the more you looked, the more the dam inside you cracked.
“What have they done to you, Jungkook?” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you carefully wrapped a bandage around his ribs. “You’re… you’re covered in pain. All of this… just to come back to me?”
He stood motionless, letting you care for him, but his dark eyes never left your face.
“I would go through it a thousand times more,” he said softly, “if it meant coming back to you and our daughter.”
You shook your head, fresh tears falling as you pressed a bandage over another wound. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I can’t bear thinking of you suffering like this. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, and now you’re here… broken because of me.”
Sir Jungkook slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you, even though you were still trying to tend to him. The powerful knight, the man who had survived war, knelt before you like the loyal protector he had always been.
“Your Highness,” he murmured, head slightly bowed, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I wasn’t here when you carried our child. I wasn’t here when you gave birth. I wasn’t here when they told you I was gone. Forgive me.”
You dropped the bandages and pulled him into your arms, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, clinging to you like a man who had almost lost everything.
A broken sob tore from his throat.
Your knight, your warrior, the strongest person you had ever known, cried against your chest like a child. Deep, shuddering sobs that shook his powerful frame as his arms tightened around you.
“I thought I lost you,” he choked out, voice muffled against your skin. “Every night on the border, I prayed I would make it back to you. To both of you.”
You held him tighter, fingers threading through his raven hair, your own tears falling onto his head.
“You’re here now,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re here. You came back to us. That’s all that matters.”
For a long time, the only sounds in the cottage were the rain outside, the crackling fire, and the quiet, heartbroken sobs of a knight who had finally returned to his princess.
—
The rain had not eased by the middle of the night. It hammered against the thatched roof like an impatient army. You had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms on the narrow bed, your daughter nestled safely in her cradle beside you. For the first time in months, your sleep was deep and dreamless.
A sharp knock on the cottage door shattered the peace.
Sir Jungkook was awake in an instant. He slipped from the bed silently, pulling on his tunic and reaching for the sword he had left by the door. His body was still tense from war, every muscle ready for threat.
“Stay here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I will see who it is.”
But you already knew.
A cold certainty settled in your chest. You rose, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, and followed him despite his warning. Your daughter stirred but remained asleep.
Sir Jungkook opened the door, sword half drawn, rain pouring behind the figure standing outside.
It was the King.
Your father stood in the downpour, cloak heavy with water, face pale and drawn. Guards waited at a respectful distance, torches flickering weakly in the storm. His eyes moved past your knight and landed on you.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then the King stepped inside without invitation, water dripping onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened when it fell on you — his only daughter, still pale from childbirth, carrying the weight of grief and motherhood.
“My child,” he said, voice rough. “You must return to the palace. You are still royalty. Still my blood. You do not belong in a cottage like this.”
You stood straighter, even as exhaustion and lingering pain made your body ache.
“I belong where I choose,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “And I will not return without Sir Jeon. He is my knight. He is the father of my daughter. He stays with me.”
The King’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jungkook, who stood tall and silent beside you, sword now lowered but ready.
“I know what you are to each other,” the King said heavily. “I have known for some time. Prince Min is a fool and a coward, but his bloodline is strong. The alliance—”
“I will not marry him,” you cut in, voice steady despite the tears gathering in your eyes. “I will return to the palace. I will perform my duties as princess, as future queen. I will be the ruler this kingdom needs. But only if Sir Jungkook remains at my side. As my knight. As the man I have chosen. As the only man with any right to me.”
The King looked at you for a long time. He saw the woman you had become, not just his rebellious daughter, but a figure of quiet strength. The people in the surrounding villages spoke of you with reverence. They told stories of the princess who helped common women, shared food during hard winters, who listened to their troubles as if they mattered as much as any noble’s.
The King exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Sir Jeon will return with you. He will remain your personal knight. But this… affair… must remain hidden from the court. For now.”
You nodded once, relief flooding through you.
The King’s gaze drifted to the cradle where your daughter slept. He had not yet seen her. You had kept her away from him, protecting her with every fiber of your being.
He took one hesitant step toward the cradle, then stopped, as if afraid.
The King’s shoulders sagged. For the first time in years, he looked truly old.
“Bring her home,” he said quietly. “Both of you. We will find a way.”
When the heavy door of the cottage finally closed behind your father, you let out a huge, shaky sigh. The weight of the conversation pressed on your chest like a stone. You turned and walked to the cradle, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She stirred but settled quickly against your chest.
Sir Jungkook followed silently behind you, his presence warm.
“I would not trust him,” you whispered, voice laced with bitterness. “My father lied. He did all of this, told me you were dead, kept us apart, made me believe I had lost you forever. How can I believe a single word he says now?”
Jungkook stepped closer. He gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head as you held your daughter.
“Petal,” he murmured softly, the old endearment slipping out like a balm. “Your father is a hard man, but he is not as cold as he pretends to be. He sent for me the moment he learned you had gone into labor. He could have kept me away forever. But he didn’t.”
You turned slightly in his arms, eyes wide with disbelief.
The knight continued, low and calm.
“There was one night… when you were still heavy with our child and very sick. I rode through a storm to reach you. Your father allowed it. He let me see you. I held you while you slept, fevered and restless. I whispered to you. I kissed your forehead and promised I would return. But I had to leave before dawn. He made me swear not to wake you. He said it would only make the pain worse when I had to go back to the borders.”
You stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up again.
“That night… it was real?” you whispered. “I thought it was a dream. I thought I imagined your arms around me.”
“It was real,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was there. And I have regretted leaving you every single day since.”
You turned fully toward him, still cradling your daughter. The baby had woken and was fussing softly. You loosened your dress and began to feed her.
Sir Jungkook watched the two of you with such open love and longing that it made your chest ache.
“She has your eyes,” you said softly, brushing a finger over your daughter’s cheek. “So dark and beautiful. Just like yours.”
Sir Jungkook’s expression softened further. He reached out, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand.
“And she is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. “I hope she grows to be as strong as her. As kind. As full of fire and love.”
For a while, the only sounds were the soft suckling of your daughter and the rain pattering against the roof. Sir Jungkook stayed close, one arm around your waist, the other lightly resting near the baby.
Eventually, after your daughter had fallen asleep again, you made the decision.
“We will return to the palace,” you said quietly. “Together. As a family. I will not hide anymore.”
The next morning, after tender farewells to Maera, who hugged you both tightly and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead with tears in her eyes, you left the cottage.
—
Three Months Later,
The palace had transformed around you.
After your return, the finest healers in the realm were summoned, learned men and women versed in herbs and ancient remedies. They tended to you with the utmost care, restoring the strength you had lost in grief and childbirth. Slowly, the hollow exhaustion faded. Color returned to your cheeks. Your body healed, and with it, your spirit bloomed once more.
You were treated not merely as royalty, but as something sacred. The people whispered that the Princess had returned more radiant than before, as if the earth itself had blessed her.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and Selyse, were beyond ecstatic to have you back. They fussed over you constantly, brushing your long hair until it shone, dressing you in the finest silks, and whispering prayers of gratitude for your safe return.
The kingdom now knew the truth: the child was Sir Jeon Jungkook’s. The scandal had spread like wildfire, but instead of outrage, most of the people embraced it. They saw their princess glowing, and fiercely protected.
Prince Min had tried to slander you upon his return, calling you impure, unfit, a disgrace for bearing a knight’s child out of wedlock. Sir Jungkook had nearly killed him in the great hall before the King’s guards pulled him back. Prince Min was expelled from the kingdom that very day, the alliance shattered. No one mourned his departure.
It was a warm evening when you returned to the royal bathing pool, surrounded by floating lily pads and fragrant white blossoms. The water shimmered under the sunlight as your maids helped you undress. Your daughter, now three months old and full of life, babbled happily in Elara’s arms, reaching for you with chubby little hands.
“Come here, my sweet,” you cooed, taking her into the warm water with you. She immediately nestled against your bare chest, tiny fingers grasping at your long, wavy hair as you gently rocked her. She was a needy little thing, always wanting her mother’s warmth, her scent, her voice.
Verra smiled as she poured scented oil over your shoulders. “She adores you, my lady. Look at those big, bejeweled eyes.”
You glanced toward the far bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, as always. He was no longer forced to hide. He remained your personal knight, ever watchful and devoted. His gaze met yours across the water, soft with love and quiet pride. He had become even more protective since your return, rarely leaving your side unless duty demanded it.
The King had grown strangely silent on the matter of your relationship. Seeing you flourish and beloved by the people, had turned him into something of a coward when it came to opposing you.
He doted on his granddaughter in private, though he still struggled to fully accept the circumstances. Yet he no longer pushed for any other marriage. He had seen what happened when he tried to separate you from your knight.
Bit by bit, your beauty had deepened into something almost otherworldly, skin luminous, eyes bright with life, a gentle fullness to your figure from motherhood that only made you more captivating. You moved through the palace performing your duties with grace while still finding time to help the common women who came to the gates seeking aid. You had become more than a princess.
At night, when the palace slept, Sir Jungkook was yours completely.
He would slip into your chambers, shed his armor, and worship you with slow hands and mouth. He made love to you like a man who had walked through hell and returned only for this. You clung to him every night, whispering how much you loved him, how you had chosen him long before the crown ever mattered.
Your daughter babbled softly, pulling at your long hair again with her tiny fist, drawing a soft, delighted laugh from you.
“Oh, my little one,” you cooed, gently untangling her fingers from your waves before pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “You are going to pull Mama’s hair right off if you keep that up, aren’t you? Such a strong little flower.”
She giggled in your arms, reaching up to pat your face with her small, uncoordinated hand, her big dark eyes, exact replicas of her father’s, sparkling with pure joy. The resemblance was almost startling even at such a young age. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
Elara sighed dreamily as she poured warm water over your shoulders. “Look at her, my lady. She is perfection. She already has the whole palace wrapped around her tiny finger.”
Verra nodded, gently massaging oil into your hair. “And you, my princess. You glow like the sun itself these days. Motherhood suits you more than any crown ever could.”
Selyse, ever the wise one, glanced toward the bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, fully armored but with his helmet removed today. A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips.
“And that one over there… he can’t take his eyes off the two of you. Look at him, standing there like a lovesick fool in steel. Our fierce knight, brought to his knees by a baby and her mother.”
The knight’s ears turned faintly red, but he didn’t deny it. His gaze remained soft, locked on you and your daughter with quiet awe and devotion.
Later that evening, in the royal rose gardens where he had once walked beside you as your new knight, Sir Jungkook carried your daughter in his arms.
He was still in full armor, crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but he held her with such careful gentleness it made your heart melt. The baby was dressed in the softest cream colored gown embroidered with tiny golden flowers, a little bonnet tied under her chin. She looked like a living doll against his armored chest.
She reached up with both hands, grabbing at the edge of his armor, babbling excitedly as she tried to pull herself closer to his face. When he leaned down, she patted his cheek with a wet, sloppy kiss.
Sir Jungkook’s entire expression softened into something almost boyish. He smiled, genuine and devastatingly handsome.
“My little love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
You walked beside them, heart full as you watched your daughter play with the buckles on his armor. Every time he lowered his head to let her see his face, she lit up. But when he playfully put his helmet back on for a moment to tease her, she immediately fussed, letting out a small, indignant cry and reaching for him with both arms.
“No helmet,” you laughed softly. “She hates it. She wants to see her father’s face.”
Sir Jungkook removed it immediately, tucking it under one arm while cradling her with the other. He leaned down so she could press her tiny palms against his cheeks and give him another sloppy kiss on the jaw.
The maids watching from a distance cooed and teased him lightly.
“Look at that,” Verra whispered loudly enough for him to hear. “Who would have thought the man who survived the western borders would be brought down by tiny hands and gummy smiles?”
Later that night, the heavy oak door to your royal chambers was barred, only the soft glow of candles and the low fire in the hearth illuminated the room.
You stood before the tall mirror, slowly changing into your nightgown. The fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your body. Your gaze caught on the beautiful ring on your finger, the one Sir Jungkook had slipped onto your hand in secret weeks ago, a quiet promise between the two of you. You turned it gently, a small, private smile touching your lips.
Your daughter lay nestled against your bare chest, warm and content, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of your loosened gown. She babbled softly, her big dark eyes full of adoration for her mother.
Sir Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, fully armored except for his helmet, watching the two of you with quiet awe. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every healed scar and the lingering shadows of war that still clung to him.
You gently laid your daughter in her ornate cradle, pressing one last kiss to her forehead as she drifted into sleep. Then you returned to the mirror, picking up the silver brush to run it through your long, wavy hair.
Sir Jungkook followed without a word. He stopped behind you, his large hands resting lightly on your waist. Slowly, he leaned down and began pressing soft kisses along your bare arms, from shoulder to wrist, as you continued brushing your hair.
You giggled softly, cheeks flushing with that familiar shyness even after all this time.
“Jungkook…” you murmured, breathy. “You ought to distract me.”
“Good,” he whispered against your skin, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “I have missed you all day. I need my darling.”
He dropped to his knees behind you with a quiet clink of armor, bowing his head in his familiar, devoted way. You turned to face him, running your fingers through his raven hair, then tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scars that remained on his face.
You saddened for a moment, remembering the brutality he had endured.
But he looked up at you with such pure worship that it took your breath away. To him, you were more than a princess. you were his salvation, the very source of life that had healed him.
You pulled him closer, and he rose, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you to the grand bed.
The knight laid you down gently, then began to worship you with slow, reverent hands. He unlaced your nightgown with painstaking care, peeling the silk away until you were bare before him. His mouth found your breasts immediately, sucking softly on one sensitive nipple, then the other, drinking the sweet milk that flowed for him with deep, grateful groans.
You moaned softly, fingers threading through his hair as he fed from you, his tongue swirling, lips sealed tight around your peak. He drank like a man who had been starving for you, savoring every drop as if it were the very essence of life itself.
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply against your breast, the sound vibrating through your chest as he drank almost desperately. His large hand cradled the soft weight of your breast, squeezing gently to draw more from you while his other hand stroked your side with reverent tenderness.
“So sweet,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and worshipful. “You give me life, my petal. You heal what war tried to break.”
You whimpered, arching into his mouth, overwhelmed by the intimate, sacred act, fresh heat blooming between your thighs.
When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with dark, adoring eyes.
“You are my salvation,” he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts before moving lower. “The mother of my child. The light that brought me home.”
When he finally moved lower, he spread your thighs with firm hands and settled between them. He looked up at you once, eyes dark with devotion, before lowering his mouth to your core.
He worshipped your flower, seeking nectar with slow, deep licks that made your back arch, followed by gentle suction on your swollen clit. His tongue delved inside you, tasting every inch, groaning at your sweetness as if it were the most sacred thing he had ever known.
You whimpered and moaned, hips rolling against his handsome face as pleasure built in waves. He was relentless yet tender, bringing you to the edge again and again before letting you tip over.
When you finally begged for him, voice trembling with need, Sir Jungkook rose above you like a knight before his altar.
He did not rush. Instead, he sat back on his heels, dark eyes drinking in every inch of your bare, flushed body with such raw hunger that it made your skin burn. You felt vulnerable and impossibly desired under that gaze. A shy, breathless giggle escaped your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.
Sir Jungkook reached out with one large, calloused hand and traced a single finger slowly down your body, from the delicate line of your throat, between your heaving breasts, over the soft curve of your belly, and down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch ever so feather light, yet it left fire in its wake.
“You are a goddess made flesh,” he whispered, voice hoarse with awe. “And I am but a mortal who has been granted the honor of kneeling at your feet.”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead to your thigh in a gesture of pure worship, eyes closed, breath warm against your skin as if he were praying to the only deity he had ever believed in.
Then he moved over you, settling between your spread thighs. His thick cock pressed against your entrance, hot and heavy. He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed inside, inch by thick, stretching inch, filling you so completely that your mouth fell open in a silent cry.
You dug your nails into his back as he began to move, first slow and loving, then harder, deeper, claiming you with every thrust.
“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, hips snapping forward. “I love you more than life itself.”
When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes. Jungkook followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a low, broken groan, filling you with pulse after pulse of his release.
In the quiet that followed, with the knight’s arms still wrapped around you and the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, it was strangely easy to remember the day he had first knelt before the throne.
The impenetrable knight clad in steel, sworn to protect a princess draped in silk. and protect you he would, as though it had been carved into the marrow of every breath he would draw, for eternity.
editing thid in a few hours. thankyou so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very much appreciated mwah love you all 🫶💋
Jungkook is your brother’s stupidly hot best friend who has been around since you learned how to read and write. He has always known where the line is when it comes to you. The problem? You don’t.
PAIRING: brother’s bsf!jk x fem!reader
GENRE: smut w plot
WC: 13k
WARNINGS: biker!jk, brother!jaehyun (my fics mean nothing wo him), 3 year age gap, jealousy, reader’s a TEASE, she’s also so horny it’s stupid, don’t let the banner fool you it’s very summer in this, smut wise: uhh, they have sex on his bike, dry humphing (a lost art), m masturbation, riding, he has a thing for her tits, so he fucks her tits, BIG D JK AGENDA, dirty talk
NOTES: im aware this is long overdue but hear me out here!! this was going to be like 6k words max but things just…kept happening…anyways this is pure filth and self indulgence. i lost my mind after that fucking tiktok his slutty ass posted and ofc it led us here. i hope this satisfies your fantasies the way it did mine, enjoy <3
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Jeon Jungkook is so unbelievably hot.
Though it’s not the kind that makes your eyes linger and your heart flutter. No, it’s nothing like that. He is so ridiculously attractive it leaves your pussy aching, clenching so hard around nothing you wish it’s him you bounce on until sunset blurs into sunrise. You almost feel your muscles physically hurt by how he’s always so close yet so far away when the only thing you desire is for the space between you to become a rhythm and draw you in until distance doesn’t really exist anymore.
But that doesn’t happen, that never happens when it’s Jungkook.
He’s Jaehyun’s best friend– your older brother who loves you more than anything. Your brother who still babies you because you fell off your bike and broke your arm that one time when you were sixteen. Your brother who trusts Jungkook in that effortless, unquestioning way that only comes from years of knowing someone too well– because they’ve known each other since Jungkook knocked on your door when they were nine and you were six. He’d looked up at your parents with those big brown eyes of his and asked, so politely your mother still gushes about it at family gatherings, if he could play with your brother.
That was all it took for Jungkook to stay. You remember how at first, it started with the small things. His shoes left by the door like the spot had been assigned to him, his voice echoing through the walls so often it soon blended into the background…Those little moments stretched into something bigger and bigger before you could even notice. And suddenly, he was there for everything. Anywhere from holiday dinners to summer getaways, Jungkook was always there.
But he never gave you anything.
Jaehyun is the kind of brother who treats every man like a problem, like a timed bomb ticking in the corner, patiently waiting for the right time to blow up into flames. He’s the kind of brother who lectures you about never trusting a guy, the kind who would show up at his door with something burning behind his eyes and a fist ready to throw. Not asking for questions, not looking for answers.
If anything was to ever happen between you and Jungkook, Jaehyun wouldn’t just be mad. He’d fucking lose it.
So Jungkook has always kept his distance from you.
He makes sure it’s not anything obvious, but it’s never enough for you to not notice either. The way he never stands next to you for too long, the way his hands stay to himself even when it’s not convenient, the way he looks at you just enough to acknowledge your presence, yet never enough to let it mean anything. He has always been controlled around you, way beyond measure and annoying as hell.
Because you’ve seen him with other people. You’ve seen how he talks and how he laughs. He lets himself be less careful, less contained. Just more…him. And what bothers you the most isn’t that he ignores you, he never ignores you.
Jungkook does notice you. You know it, he knows it, he definitely knows you know it too. But what’s so infuriating is the fact that he actively chooses not to react, not to acknowledge anything that comes in his way from you. It’s like he’s decided long ago that whatever line existing between the two of you is one he’s never willing to cross. Which would be fine if he wasn’t so damn irresistible.
But he is.
And tonight, you’re a little more aware of it than usual. Maybe it’s the tight little dress that’s framing your body so well you had to twirl in front of the mirror more than once just to take it in, because it just looks that good. Or maybe, it’s something else entirely; one of those nights where whatever he usually holds so carefully contained inside sits a little closer to the surface than it normally does.
You don’t think too much of it as you step out of your room, walking down the hallway barefoot as you fix your earrings. A voice drifts away from the living room until it reaches your ears. You know the voice belongs to Jaehyun, he’s home, that’s not surprising. What’s surprising is that he’s not alone.
You round the corner with your mind elsewhere, the only thought lingering on your mind being whether the shade of your lipstick is a little too dark or not. You’re already halfway into whatever you were going to say when you briefly pause by the mirror to smooth down your dress.
“Hey, do you mind if–” You start, but you cut yourself off, because when you finally drift your eyes away from the hem of your skirt and lift them up, Jungkook’s reflection stares right back at you from behind.
He’s leaning back against the couch comfortably, legs spread wide like he’s been there for so long his body has melted and molded into the cushion. One of his arms is thrown over the backrest as the other is holding a can of beer he’s not really drinking from. Jaehyun isn’t there with him for some reason, probably whipping something up in the kitchen even though he can't cook to save his life.
And when you turn around to face him fully, there’s a beat where his eyes move over you, all the way from the very top of your head to the bottom of your feet. You swear his eyes linger for a second too long on your chest before he drops them down and lets his mind register you properly.
“Going somewhere?” He asks, one brow raised as he spreads his legs even further.
You nod once, pretending to be mindless and nonchalant about it. “Just for drinks with some friends.” Technically, you’re going out with a friend. But before you can even think of elaborating on that further, Jaehyun walks in. And that’s all it takes for Jungkook to look away like it doesn’t mean anything.
“Finally.” He scoffs before taking a large sip from his beer. “You take longer than anyone I know to get ready.”
It takes half a minute of consecutive swift blinking for you to drag your attention away from Jungkook and pull yourself back together. “Relax.” You mutter when you’ve recollected your senses, rolling your eyes. “You’re not even coming with me.”
“As if I’d want to.” He responds immediately. “I don’t want to deal with your friends.”
“Hey!” You exclaim, pulling your browns together. “You like my friends.”
“When they’re sober and quiet.” He corrects.
You huff out a laugh, stepping further into the room, grabbing your purse from the table. “Liar.”
“I never lie.” Jaehyun responds, making his way over to the couch before dropping himself down next to Jungkook. You shake your head with a light scoff, barely listening anymore, because Jungkook’s gaze is fixed on you once again and you don’t know if you can continue holding up this stupid act of nonchalance if he doesn’t tear his eyes away from you soon enough.
“Text me when you get there.” Jaehyun reminds you for the third time today, and you nod along halfheartedly, checking your purse one last time for good measure.
“Yeah, okay. Promise.”
“You better.” He mutters.
You sling your bag over your shoulder, turning slightly just to sneak one last look at the man who’s managed to get your pussy tingling with so much as one look and two careless words. But when your gaze finds him and you realize he’s still looking at you, you think that maybe, he isn’t as untouchable as he makes it out to be.
He shifts under your presence, like your eyes weren’t something he expected to land a certain way yet did anyway, setting his drink down on the table as you move past him. The motion brings you close just enough, and his hand brushes against yours in passing. It’s light and fleeting, the kind of contact that normally would be dismissed in seconds. But you feel it all too clearly, so much that even after he pulls away, his fingertips linger on your skin in a way that burns until it leaves a permanent trace.
Because he doesn’t pull away immediately, not fast enough like he usually does. There’s a fraction of a second where his fingers stay there before he retracts like he remembered it a little too late.
And when you finally leave, Jungkook finds himself drowned inside the drunken haze of your sweet scent and the warmth of your presence– so strong that he physically feels the way it’s begging for him to follow.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The place Jaemin picked is one of those upscale cocktail bars where the wine is just so mediocre you’re forced to order overpriced cocktails instead. The lighting is warm and dim, because it always is in places like this– casting everything in a golden glow so that the glint makes it easier to ignore what doesn’t quite live up to the price tag. It’s busy just the way you like, filled with enough people to feel alive without being crowded.
Jaemin is already there by the time you reach the table that's reserved for you, leaning back into his seat like the air around him bends so intently that the place belongs to him. His legs are spread just a little wider than what’s acceptable, and the drink in his hand swings lazily from side to side like it’s been there for long with the sole purpose of giving him something to fidget with.
He smirks immediately when you walk in. “There she is.” He sings, dragging his gaze over you before continuing. “You look…happy.” He says, cocking a brow like he’s questioning his own choice of words.
You slide into the seat across from him, setting your bag onto the one next to you. “When am I not happy?”
“This is like, when your hot friend from statistics called me cute, kind of happy.”
You scoff, reaching for the menu before letting your eyes scan through the list of beverages. “You threw a chair and got banned from the cafe you took her to.”
Jaemin rolls his eyes. “I moved a chair.”
“You threw it and it hit someone’s leg.”
He pauses. “Not the point.”
You giggle, placing the menu back onto the table. “Exactly the point, she got back together with her ex two days after your date.”
He watches you for a second, then shakes his head. “God, you’re exhausting.”
“And,” You start, dragging the word. “You still text me every day.”
“What can I say, you’re a part of my routine.” Jaemin winks at you before turning his head to call over a waiter. When he comes by, you order a cocktail too pink to be taken seriously, and Jaemin asks for a kind of whiskey you’re sure tastes even worse than its name. Because no one really enjoys whiskey, it’s just for show. A whole performance created by men trying to match up to their fragile egos. Not that you're saying Jaemin fits the profile.
He leans forward when the waiter walks away. “Alright.” He says. “What did you do?”
You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I didn’t exactly do something.”
He gives you an unimpressed look. “And you expect me to believe that?”
“Yes!” You exclaim. “I really didn’t do anything. He just…slipped.”
“Who?” He pulls his brows together. “Don’t tell me this is about Jungkook again.”
You lean back into your seat, unable to help the mischievous smile spreading across your face. Jaemin groans when it clicks, realizing exactly what you’re talking about. “No he didn’t.” He says matter of factly.
You met Jaemin your freshman year of high school, and you slipped in each other’s spaces so easily you don’t even remember how. Just that by the time it mattered, he was already there. In your messages at ungodly hours, in the best parts of your worst days, in the middle of things he had no reason to involve himself in but did anyway.
And at some point, without either of you really saying it out loud, you built something strong enough to stay and fight for.
So naturally, Jaemin knows Jungkook. How he moves, how he talks, how careful he is without making it obvious— only when it comes to you. He knows the version of him that exists around your brother; easy, controlled, and distant just enough to never cause any problems.
So when you say that Jungkook slipped, he knows exactly what you mean, even though he would never grant you the pleasure of being right. But most importantly, he knows that if you're bringing it up like this, something has actually shifted.
“He did.” You say without an ounce of hesitation. “He looked at me like he…forgot everything. Like there was a feeling he’d been suppressing and he forgot why for a second." You pause, sipping your drink. "And!" You exclaim like you forgot to add something so crucial. "His hand brushed mine and he didn't pull away." You argue.
Jaemin sinks deeper into his seat. “Can we please move on from that man? Jungkook doesn’t slip, that’s literally his thing. I can set you up with Mark, if you want. Saw his dick once in the lockers and let me tell you, he’s huge.”
Your lips pull into a pout. “I don’t want Mark, I want Jungkook.”
Jaemin exhales through his nose before taking a large gulp from his drink. “Let’s say you’re right, Jaehyun would fucking kill you.”
You shrug, mindlessly tracing your nail along the rim of your glass. “We’ll figure that out, I just wanna see how far it goes. What it takes for him to lose control."
“You’ve liked him way too long for this to end well.”
You scoff. “I do not like him.”
Jaemin deadpans. “You used to sit on the stairs just to watch him and your brother play video games.”
“That's because I wanted to hop on his bones.” You argue.
He lifts a brow accusingly. “When you were fifteen?”
You pause for a second, tongue poking the inside of your cheek as you watch over your friend. “Fuck you.” You mutter under your breath.
You breathe again before leaning forward slightly, lowering your voice just enough. “You’ve seen him, Jaemin. He’s always so– so put together. Like nothing touches and sticks to him enough.”
“Yeah.” Jaemin nods. “Because he’s not stupid.”
The corner of your mouth twitches. “And it’s my duty to fuck up his morals.”
He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You’re gonna drag me into this, aren’t you?”
“You’re already in it." You smile at him innocently, bating your eyelashes. “You’re gonna sit next to me and look pretty."
“Wow, the way you love me.”
You wink at him, sipping your drink and letting the bitter taste of alcohol burn in your mouth. "Always."
“God,” He mutters. “You’re gonna fuck this up.”
Your lips twitch. “I’ll snap you a pic when he spreads his legs for me.”
“Please don’t.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The opportunity presents itself on a silver platter.
You’d be stupid to not take it. Not when you’ve gotten him somewhere hot, wet and messy without even meaning to, as if the universe already knows exactly what you’re about to do with it.
You're stretched out on one of the chez-longs by the pool, body wrapped in the tiniest set of white bikinis in your wardrobe. That was definitely a lucky guess— a hot one to say the least. You're laying on your stomach with a book resting open in your hands with the sole purpose of being there, because you've read no more than two or five pages during the whole hour you spent here.
You had set the day aside and spared it for yourself— silenced your phone, shut everyone out, forced your mind into a kind of quiet that had no way out unless you tried hard enough. You had cleared everything until there was nothing to think about, nothing pulling at you from somewhere with something you didn't choose.
But it doesn't last.
The sliding door cuts through the quiet when you expect it the least, and when it opens, it brings Jaehyun with it. He walks in a way that's loud, careless, and already mid conversation with a couple of his friends trailing behind him.
And Jungkook too, of course.
You lower your book, push yourself onto your elbows, and then lift your sunglasses up into your hair. The exasperated breath you huff out goes unnoticed by both your brother, and his ridiculously loud friends as their voices swallow it up without wasting a second.
"Wow," You mutter, tilting your head to take a look at them. "Great."
Jaehyun spots you immediately. “Oh, you’re here.”
You scrunch your face a little, blinking up at him, shielding your face from the sun with a help of your hand even though it doesn't exactly work wonders. “I live here.”
“Right.” He says mindlessly. “Didn’t think you’d be outside.”
You scoff. “Clearly.”
After your exchange, Jaehyun walks over the lounge chairs across from you, tossing his towel onto one of them like there isn't enough for everyone and they're something to call dibs on. When in reality, they aren't. One of his friends, one you only vaguely recognize, blows out a low whistle as he walks by.
"Damn," He says, not even trying to be subtle about it. "Didn't know he had a sister like that."
Luckily, Jaehyun doesn't hear it, too busy arguing with Mingyu about sunscreen brands like either of them know what they're talking about.
But Jungkook does.
His head turns— maybe not immediately, maybe you're giving yourself too much credit and your imagination has started playing games on you— but you swear it does. His eyes narrow at his friend for a second too long before landing on you. And this time, you're sure there's something there. You're sure that if you were exaggerating and reading too much into every small detail last week, you aren't now.
His eyes linger on you as the oil you had put on catches the sunlight in a way that's impossible to ignore. The soft sheen traces every line and every curve of your body, shifting with movement until it reflects straight into his eyes.
Jungkook really doesn't mean to look. But the way the light hits your body— which he swears is literally the epitome of beauty— pulls in his attention without asking for permission. Suddenly, he's seeing too much and the tent in his shorts is growing and growing until the fabric tightens around his length and he can't bear doing nothing about it.
Though what really gets him isn't only how good you look— because that has always been a problem. It's how you exist in it so easily, so comfortable in the artwork dressed as your body. As his gaze dances over you, his head keeps spinning and spinning and suddenly, words he can never say out loud build at the tip of his tongue.
You're a fucking temptation.
You’re in the middle of flipping a page you haven’t been reading when his voice cuts in. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
You glance up again. “And I didn’t know you were coming over.”
He shrugs. “Jaehyun asked.”
You nod slowly, pursing your lips. “I figured.”
There’s a beat filled with silence, one that stretches a little too long, one that leads you to realize he won’t be the first one to break it. So you turn over and sit up fully, setting your book aside. “Are you gonna get in or keep standing there?” You ask lightly.
But it takes him longer than a minute to hear the question. Because as you sit up and your front faces him, Jungkook feels the air knocking out of his lungs.
Your tits.
They sit so round and perky under the thin fabric of your bikini top. The white colour extenuates the soft swell of your boobs perfectly and Jungkook can't help but wonder what else would paint them white like this. As if things couldn't get worse for him, your tits bounce slightly when you move, and Jungkook fucking loses it.
He huffs a quiet breath in hopes of masking the ethical dilemma he's got going on inside. “Don’t really feel like it.”
You hum softly, dragging your gaze over him. “Well,” You start. “That’s too bad.”
His brows pull together. “Why?”
You give him a calculated smile, letting the moment sink in before answering. “You’d be fun to watch.”
You see the way your words land immediately– that almost-reaction he covers before it reaches too far. “Yeah?” He says, voice lower now, unable to help himself. “You watch everyone like that?”
You shrug. “Only the ones nice to look at.”
He huffs out a soft scoff under his breath before reaching for the hem of his shirt, then pulls it off in one swift motion. You try to keep your expression neutral. And you swear, you really do. But when he looks like that, it’s impossible.
Because Jungkook looks ridiculous like this, chest toned and bare and so fucking hot. He looks like someone who jumped out of your dirtiest fantasies and landed straight in your aching pussy. Your muscles grow sore despite having laid down all morning and you have to physically stop yourself from drooling and licking along the lines framing his abs.
At the end of the day, you're just a girl who knows what she likes. Sue you.
You exhale softly through your nose, shaking your head mindlessly like it doesn’t matter, like you don’t want to jump and bounce on him until his shape is permanently engraved in you. “Real subtle.”
He glances at you, cocking a brow. “You asked.”
You tilt your head. “I wouldn’t say asked is the correct word.”
“You’re welcome anyway.” He says, tossing his shirt beside you.
You laugh, pushing yourself up from the sunbed. “You’re so annoying.” So annoyingly hot.
When you’re finally standing, he’s so close you don’t hear whatever bullshit Jaehyun yells from the pool. Shut up, brother. Your girl is standing on business.
You step forward towards the edge of the pool when the lack of distance starts feeling like you want to drop down to your knees and take him into your mouth until he's whining and crying. Because it's one thing to be aware of his presence, but a whole another thing to feel the warmth of him sizzling through your bones.
You crouch down, dragging your hand along the water. "You getting in?" You ask, glancing up at him.
Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, gives you one final look, and before you know it, he's jumping straight into the pool. Water rises fast the moment his body drops in, splashing and hitting your skin in cool droplets.
Jungkook shakes his head, dragging a hand over his face. "Happy?" He asks, looking at you behind wet curls as he brushes them away from his face.
Oh the sight he is.
You tilt your head, looking down at him as you narrow your eyes teasingly. “A little.”
Before you can move, his hand catches your wrist and pulls you forward. You lose your balance and a sharp splash cuts through your body, skin burning with the unexpected hit. And suddenly, all you can feel is the cold chill of water rushing up your spine mixed with the warmth of his body.
Shit.
When you open your eyes, you realize you're fully pressed against him. Your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders and your legs around his waist before you have the chance to realize what's happening.
For a second, it's like the earth stops rotating— like it forgets to revolve around the sun and time forgets to move along with it. The water ripples slowly until it calms down, the noise around you fading into something so distant and irrelevant. Because right now, all you can feel is him. The way his broad chest sits solid against your soft boobs and the warm touch of him on your skin that's suddenly everywhere.
Jungkook goes completely still the exact way you do, like he didn't expect this either yet can't bring himself to do anything rational about it. The rush keeps you away from registering his hold around your thighs until he shifts slightly, securing your place in his arms.
Your faces are so close that his breath is hitting your skin in that warm, intimate kind of way you don’t share with just anyone. But the intimacy slips over your head just like that and all you can focus on is the way his hardened length presses against you beneath the water.
“Fuck.” It slips under his breath, barely audible even for you considering the lack of distance between you and him. But of course, you hear it. You'd be a fool to miss a slip like that, because you'd notice that kind of desperation from a mile away
He pulls back abruptly, like the warmth becomes too much and suffocates him all at once, so much that he can't feel oxygen reaching his lungs anymore. Distance folds itself into something necessary for him to function properly again, and just like that, your arms slip away and your legs drop back into the water.
Then you give him a smile, teasing and knowing, like this was all you needed to have him all bare and figured out in the middle of your palm. "This is new." You murmur. "You're getting reckless."
His jaw tightens. “I’m not.”
“You just pulled me into the pool.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You were standing too close.”
You laugh softly. “That’s your excuse?”
“It’s the truth.”
You tilt your head to study him with a little more care. The way he's been holding onto the tension between you like his life depends on it just so that it doesn't crack, the way restraint sits so uncomfortably on his face even though he has no choice but to keep it together a little longer— it's all a bit more clear now.
"Right." You say lightly, then turn away like nothing about what just happened is worth digging further. But on the inside, you're already thinking about the phone call you'll have with Jaemin. Because you were right from the start, that wasn't nothing, not even close.
You just got what you wanted.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Jaehyun absolutely loves Jaemin. He just won't ever say it like that.
It shows in other ways— been there since the day you came home all giddy and giggly, talking too fast about the first ever friend you made in high school, barely able to get his name out properly out of excitement. Jaehyun remembers it anyway. He remembers the day you said Jaemin like it already meant something, like the way the letters rolled out of your tongue was enough to know he was going to stay.
He didn't question it then, he doesn't question it now.
So when Jaemin shows up unannounced at your door and lets himself in without asking, Jaehyun doesn't tell him to leave. He complains with a roll of his eyes, but offers him a can of beer anyway. Because accommodating an uninvited Jaemin has become a given way too long ago.
Jaemin exists in the space the same way Jungkook does, even though he slipped into it a few years later, like they both carved out a place for themselves in the dearest corners of your lives and never really left.
The difference is, Jaemin doesn't really have to keep his distance.
After inviting himself inside, he stretches across your couch, fetches the drink straight out of Jaehyun's hand before your brother gets to offer it properly, then reaches for you absentmindedly the way he always does.
Jaehyun notices it sometimes, just enough to be bothered by it. He isn't exactly a fan of seeing a man touch you like that, even if it's Jaemin. He rolls his eyes, tells him to stop being annoying, but Jaemin just nods along with that loose, careless grin; pulling you closer regardless.
You lean into him just enough to make things worse for your brother, your shoulder pressing into his chest as you reach past him for the small bowl of nuts Jaehyun was about to hand you, until Jaemin beats you to it.
"Can you not steal everything that's mine?" Jaehyun mutters. Already huffing, already annoyed.
Jaemin doesn't even look at him, stuffing his mouth with a handful of peanuts. "Relax. You were literally handing it out."
Jaehyun deadpans. "Well, not to you."
You laugh, grabbing a few of the almonds. "You're both insufferable."
"You're one to talk." Jaehyun shoots back immediately. "You encourage him."
"I don't encourage him." You argue, but the lack of distance between you and your friend is still questionable.
Jaemin glances down at you, eyes grazing over your bare legs draped across his lap before lifting a brow. "You definitely do."
You tilt your head, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. "You're very impressionable, that's not my fault."
"I'm not impressionable."
"You walked in uninvited and stole a drink in under thirty seconds."
"Eh," He squints his eyes, pretending to think. "You offered it though."
"So you wouldn't have gone ahead and taken one if he didn't?" You ask, cocking a brow.
Jaehyun points at him in victory, ecstatic at the newfound support from you. "Exactly."
Jaemin ignores him completely and turns to you, his arm still draped over your shoulders. "You weren't complaining five minutes ago."
"Suddenly I'm feeling a little wiser."
Jaemin rolls his eyes. "No, you're not."
You pause mid sip like you're considering putting up a fight, but you change your mind as you gulp down the drink, dropping your shoulders. "Fine, I'm not."
Jaehyun exhales sharply, dragging a hand along his face like he's already exhausted. "See, this is exactly what I mean. You two are unbearable together."
"You're the one who keeps letting him in." You say lightly.
"I don't let him in." He argues. "He just shows up."
"You'd shut the door in my face if you wanted to." Jaemin says.
"You'd climb in through the window."
Jaemin nods with a serious look on his face, like what he's agreeing to is a reasonable solution. "Yeah, I would."
You're still laughing when the bell rings, and Jaehyun mutters a quiet finally under his breath as he pushes himself up from the couch. Jungkook and Mingyu walk in one behind the other, Jaehyun holding the door open by the corner.
"Took you long enough." He complains, unimpressed.
Mingyu scoffs lightly. "We're not late."
"You always are. I'm the only one with a sense of urgency here."
Mingyu doesn't argue further, he heads straight for the kitchen instead. As he's busy opening and closing cabinets one by one like he owns like place, Jungkook lingers a little longer at the entrance before following Jaehyun inside.
He looks good, he looks so fucking good it takes everything in you to not spread your legs right then and there. So you lean more into Jaemin, letting your skirt ride up with the movement. Because you'll get this man in your bed one way or the other and right now, there's nothing you can do besides rile him up a little and pray your brother doesn't notice.
He does.
Jaehyun's eyes flick between the two of you before he looks away again, jaw clenching just slightly. "Can you sit normally for once?"
But you don't move. You can't move when Jungkook's already looking at you like he's trying so hard not to slip. Not again. "Are we not sitting normally?" You ask, glancing down at yourself, pretending to be confused.
"No." He says flatly.
Jaemin shifts just enough to make it worse, his arm tightening around you even though it's completely unnecessary. "Feels pretty normal to me."
"That's because you're the problem."
You hum softly, clearly entertained now. "I think you're overreacting."
Jaemin nudges you with his elbow. "He's jealous."
"I'm not jealous of you."
"Wow." Jaemin says as he brings a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. "That hurt."
Mingyu laughs from the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his drink in hand. "He's definitely jealous."
“I’m not jealous.” Jaehyun repeats, louder this time.
Mingyu shrugs as he drops onto the singular couch beside him. “Sounds like it.”
You laugh again, and it still sounds light and careless. But it doesn't really feel like it. Not when you can feel Jungkook's eyes digging holes into your exposed skin, like he's trying to do with his eyes what he can't with anything else. Because neither one of his fists have the privilege of breaking Jaemin's jaw right now.
He's not even trying to hide it now. Maybe because something bigger already slipped last week and there is no point in trying to recollect it back together, or maybe because Jaehyun has fallen into another pointless argument with Mingyu and a small glace or two won't hurt anybody. Doesn't really matter when he keeps giving you exactly what you're looking for.
Regardless, you're adamant on not giving in. You're a girl on a mission and you're going to compromise it for nothing.
So you shift closer, letting your hand slide further along Jaemin's arm before curling your fingers around his bicep like there's no other place you'd rather it be. Like this is nothing new, nothing worth paying attention to.
But it is.
Jungkook's eyes drop down to your legs— bare and unapologetic on Jaemin's lap. He lets them linger on the poor excuse of a skirt that's sitting uselessly on your hips, and then trails lines along your exposed legs all the way to the tip of your feet.
You don't have to look up to know he's watching, but you do anyway, just to see the way he's starting to break. Because this time, there's nothing careful about the way he's looking at you. The control is still there, but he's holding onto it for his dear life— barely.
The conversation around you keeps moving in a way that's constant and habitual— Jaehyun complaining, Mingyu laughing, Jaemin saying something in your ear you don't fully catch…Everything is safe and practiced.
Besides him.
Jeon Jungkook is not safe. God, he’s terrifying. Terrifyingly sexy and thoroughly unsafe.
You reach for your drink, take a slow sip, then set it back down like you've suddenly lost all interest and nothing is as entertaining anymore. "I'll be back." You say, pushing yourself up from the couch before anyone can question you about it.
"Don't disappear." Jaehyun mutters mid-conversation, barely glancing at you.
You hum something about him asking too for many things at once before turning away, making your way out of the living room fast so that no one has the chance to hold you there longer.
You take your sweet time walking down the hallway, hips swaying from side to side just in case a certain someone decides to follow behind. But you know he will, so you don't look back. Luckily, life smiles at you for another day and the sound of a second set of footsteps reaches you in no time.
The corner of your mouth lifts in satisfaction as you reach the bathroom door, letting your hand linger on the handle for half a second too long before pushing it open, like you're giving him time to catch up.
You don't bother closing the door, leaving it open as Jungkook steps in a beat or two after you, not forgetting to lock it after him.
"Stop it." He mutters finally, voice low and rough like he doesn't fully trust it to come out louder without giving something away.
Too bad he already has.
You tilt your head, looking up at him like you don't quite understand what he's talking about, lashes fluttering innocently even though you're far from it. "Stop what?"
When your gazes meet, it's like his eyes are whispering to you, telling you to come closer and let yourself melt into his touch until your breath is completely blown away. But instead of doing anything about it, instead of tugging you closer into him and ending this stupid game that has left both of you aching and soaring; he drags a hand down his face and does everything in his power to pull himself back into the control he had once mastered.
"You know what." He says, exhaling sharply through his nose.
You take a step closer, fed up with the distance he's forced you into. "I wanna hear you say it."
His jaw tightens as he looks at you, trying to figure out how far you're willing to take it. "You've been pushing this all night."
"Well then, let me remind you." You murmur, stepping even closer, until there's barely any space left between the two of you. "You followed me." You say, placing your index finger on his chest.
Your words land a certain way, you watch his reaction all the way through its birth and death. In the way his breath stutters audibly, in the way his eyes flick briefly down to your lips, in the way something between light and lust flashes across his features before he can lock it back down again.
He scoffs as his eyes drift away from yours. "You're out of your mind."
You shrug mindlessly, like nothing about this is as serious as he makes it out to be. "I've been told once. Or twice." You give him a smile, light and flirty.
He drops down his hand, then snaps his head towards you like he suddenly remembered something. "Do you think this is funny?" He asks,
You let your gaze drag over him slowly, completely unapologetic, taking your time with it before meeting his eyes.
"I think it's hot."
And you're met with silence. Oh, Jeon Jungkook, the fucking pussy you are.
That does it, you see it the second it lands, the second that suppressed urge in him slips past the point of recovery. It's still there— but thinner, frying, barely holding on. Like it's waiting for someone to cross the line first and it sure as hell won't be him.
So you do.
You close the space completely this time, your hand finding him again until it settles on his shirt and fists the fabric enough to pull him in. You're not testing the waters, not anymore. Everything is visible no matter how hard he's trying to pull it through and you're not going to let him slip past your fingertips when you've gotten him like this.
Jungkook inhales sharply, quick and uneven, like air catches in the middle of his chest before he can do anything about it. His hand moves instinctively, and just as you think he's going to push your hand away, he settles his hold on your waist.
He calls your name, voice dropping in a way that's raw and desperate. His body goes rigid as his brain tries being reasonable one last time, but he fails terribly, miserably.
Your hands trail along his chest, traveling down until you decide to let them settle on his waist. Your hands don't rush him, they move like you've already decided how this ends on his part. Your fingers slip just past the waistband of his jeans, but still not fully, tugging with his belt.
"Fuck." He mutters under his breath as your hips hit his roughly, head falling back beyond his control.
Jungkook just stands there and takes it, lets it happen, lets you happen.
That's what gives him away. He doesn't grab your wrists, doesn't step back, doesn't do anything he should be doing. So with the newfound confidence, you sink down to your knees, slow enough that each passing second aches and tortures and stings his skin until it burns and leaves your trace.
He freezes.
His body hasn't caught up to what's happening yet, even though you're taking your sweet time to make sure every second of your touch registers to the point where it's lingering and all he sees and feels is you when he closes his eyes.
No matter how bad you're trying to let him keep up, he feels as though his brain has stopped working long ago and parked itself outside of the constellation named his fucking morals.
"You still there, Jungkook?" You ask looking up at him, voice low and sultry, bating your eyelashes with feigned innocence. As if you aren't his best friend's little sister who's about to suck the life out of him.
He's barely able to get out a reply and you're already pulling his jeans down. You fiddle with the waistband of his boxers, then move along to palm him over the fabric. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, hands finding their way to your hair like he's trying to ground himself.
You give a squeeze to his base, hard and thick just like you expected. You're sure whatever he's hiding inside is even better than your imagination, but there's still a minute or two before you can figure that out.
"Ah, fuck, yes—" Jungkook breathes, almost stuttering, completely lost in a daze. "Keep going." He says as his hold tightens in your hair, locks tangling between his fingertips as he tries steadying himself. You slowly drag your hand over to his tip, flicking your index finger somewhere over his slit before moving it back down. You're about to pull down his boxers and then—
A knock.
Jaehyun calls out your name from the other side of the door, and the sound reaches your ears in an instant, forcing you out of whatever fantasy you've lost yourselves in. It's so sudden that Jungkook jerks, his hold on you slipping away as panic flashes across his features. But you? You don't even move.
"Give me a second!" You call back with a voice so impressively steady even Jungkook believes you're alone for a second.
Jungkook exhales like he's just been dropped back into a body he hasn't been in for years, fists closing and opening by his sides like he doesn't know what to do with his hands anymore. But what gets him— what gets him the most is how calm and unbothered you look, like you didn't just bury his body and bring it back to life in under a minute.
Jaehyun calls your name again. "Be quick, seriously."
But you're still not rushing, still not scrambling. Hell, you're not even shifting the way anyone else would in this situation— enter Jungkook. You just tilt your head slightly as you slowly rise back up to your feel, like you're mildly inconvenienced at best.
"I said give me a second!" You reply, and Jungkook watches over you like you're insane. Because you don't look panicked, you don't look caught, you don't look half he's feeling right now.
You look…fine.
He doesn't like that.
Right when Jungkook was considering running the bath and drowning himself in boiling water, another door opens.
"You can use this one." Jaemin says casually, thoroughly aware of whatever stunt you're pulling unlike your brother. Jaehyun mutters something under his breath, a few curse words and complaints about how annoying you are, but he's already moving.
It's silent again when the door locks shut, and Jungkook exhales like he has been holding the entire universe in his lungs. "Jesus—" He runs a hand down his face, shaking his head like he's trying to rid himself of everything but it doesn't work. "What the fuck was that?"
You melt into every second in a whole minute, smoothing your skirt down, fixing your lipstick, running a hand along your hair like those are the only things that need a fixing and nothing about this requires any urgency.
You look at him, completely calm. "What?" You ask lightly, not even making an effort to look at him, glancing at his face from its reflection through the mirror.
His jaw tightens. "You have no idea what game you're playing and it's a problem."
You finally turn to look at him, then glance down to his crotch before lifting your eyes back up, the corners of your mouth lifting. "I think you've got a bigger problem going on." You say, then walk through the door just like that.
Just like that.
Jungkook is losing his fucking mind.
He hates you, he hates you so goddamn much right now. He hated you that day by the pool when you were in that stupid little bikini, hated you when you had your perfect legs over some boy's lap— God, he really is just some boy. What the fuck is a Jaemin? He swears he's so much hotter and bigger and sexier but he can't even try and make himself feel better now that his pants are tightening and his cock is aching.
He knows he's got a bigger problem going on, he didn't need you to say it, he doesn't want to hear you say anything at this point. Because it seems as though he has the self restraint of a fucking rabbit and his dick gets hard with so much as your breathing.
Jungkook is the boy here. He knows he is. There is nothing left for him to do besides hoping you don't. But god, he's desperate. He can't help but think about the what ifs. What if Jaehyun didn't knock, what if you actually pulled down his boxers and took him in your sweet little mouth. He'd give anything right now. Anything to see your mouth full with his cock, stuffed to the brim. He'd do anything for you to fold beneath him and do as he says, he'd bend you over this stupid counter and take you right fucking here. He'd fuck you so good you'd never be able to walk properly again. He'd put you in your place and shut that sweet mouth of yours forever.
But he can't. He knows he can't. So he does the second most stupid he can do today— the first being letting you take him in your mouth. He pulls his jeans back down after making sure the door is locked again, then frees his cock out of the fabric that has been suffocating him since the moment he laid his eyes on you today.
He starts stroking himself after spreading the precum over his tip, then lets his hand run down his aching length. He's so horny it's stupid. He can't believe a girl he has known since he was nine has gotten his dick rock hard with so much as a few reckless words and light, taunting touches. But who the fuck is he kidding? This isn't the first time he's thought about you like this, not the first time he's caught himself a way the shouldn't have.
He's just been better at hiding it before.
He had always been the version of himself that knows where the line is and doesn't even think about crossing it. Because for the longest time, you had a single purpose, a single title in his life— Jaehyun's little sister. A kid who used to hover around the edges of everything she had no part in, who'd sit too close and talk too much even when she didn't have to. There was never a reason to think about it longer than necessary.
Until you made it impossible to ignore.
It didn't happen all at once, not in a way he could point to and say this is where it changed. It just…happened. You stopped asking to be included, stopped looking at him like he was someone above and untouchable. You built your own life, your own circle, yourself.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, he started noticing things. The way you carried yourself differently, the way your voice grew into something low and sultry, the way you started looking at people with eyes that knew exactly what you were doing, thoroughly aware of the effect you had.
So as he keeps dragging a hand along his length, he thinks about every time you'd bent over in front of him with a skirt way too short to be acceptable, every time you'd given him those eyes while asking for things as simple as a glass of water, every time you'd call a man late at night thinking your voice couldn't be heard when he'd lose hours of sleep over it— he thinks about it all.
He cums with a breathy trail of moans and your name on his tongue, body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. And as he struggles to find the line between his imagination and the reality, he realizes that the worst part about what he has done today isn't Jaehyun or the post nut clarity.
It's that he wants more.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The club is brazen without trying to be subtle about it. It's the kind of atmosphere that doesn't prepare you for the worst before settling deep into your skin, right in the middle of something you can't erase no matter how hard you try scrubbing it off, because the agitation is just that heavy. The lights hang low, glowing in a distant hue that's maybe a little too deliberate for a club like this. The air is thick and full without being suffocating, but it's lived in. Like it's been used over and over again and simply refuses to empty out, carrying the remnants of conversations, the cluttered echo of laughter, and things that are said too loud yet meant too lightly.
You're not sure if it was the best pick for a birthday night out, but who are you to say anything— you wouldn't be here without Jaehyun anyway. Not that you want to leave, but the party doesn't matter all that much either. Although you do like Haneul— one of Jaehyun's college friends who also became yours overtime— she's sweet in a way that's safe and makes it easy to forget she's the center of attention tonight.
The music is starting to feel too loud and it feels as if the club is getting smaller and smaller as time goes on, but it's still a little early to leave, at least by yourself. Because leaving alone would mean you aren't enjoying yourself and staying long enough keeps everything in place, keeps you exactly where you need to be without drawing attention to the fact that your mind has been completely elsewhere for the entirety of the night.
Jungkook has been avoiding you. Definitely, irreproachably, unmistakeably.
You've been in this club for three hours now, with your body pressed against the crowd in a way that doesn't allow distance to exist, caught between people who move like proximity is a choice rather than an inconvenience, and still— Jungkook hasn't looked at you properly. Not even once.
Jaehyun finds you sometime around the final minutes of your fourth hour here, fully drunk now as if he hasn't been halfway gone for the majority of his time here. His words are looser, his voice is louder, and his arm is slinging around your shoulder like everything about his balance depends on you.
"There you are." He sings, stretching the words sloppily. "I'm done."
You laugh, head tipping back in his arms. "You've been done for like, what? An hour now?" You tell him, steadying the drink in his hand before it spills.
"I mean it this time." He leans into you, then immediately leans away like something far more interesting suddenly caught his attention. "I'm leaving— or, no. I'm staying. I don't know."
"That sounds about right."
He exhales dramatically, then glances over your shoulder until he spots what he was looking for. "Jungkook!" He shouts over the music.
Jungkook turns his head slightly before fully facing your brother, then moves towards you like rejecting was never really an option.
"Can you take her home?" Jaehyun asks, placing a hand on the small of your back. But it doesn't sound like a question, it sounds like a decision that's already been made before it even reached Jungkook.
"You are." Jaehyun cuts him off, waving it away like the argument doesn't exist, doesn't matter. "I'll stay a bit longer, or all night, just— make sure she gets home safe, please."
Your eyes wander away to Jungkook, because watching him is far more interesting than dealing with your drunk brother. There's a pause before he exhales through his nose, a beat that's enough to feel like he's weighing something in his head, like there is a version of this he so badly wants to refuse but knows he can't— knows he won't.
"Fine." He says finally, not exactly willing.
Jaehyun grins, satisfied with the outcome even though he won't remember achieving it by the time he wakes up. He disappears into the crowd after patting Jungkook on the shoulder, leaving the two of you standing in a space that suddenly feels quiet despite being the complete opposite.
Jungkook walks alongside you in silence as you make your way out of the club, his pace controlled and calculated like that's the only thing he's concentrating on right now. The music gets swallowed up by a wave of soft wind and the distant hum of the city when you step outside, fading slowly as you get further and further away from the club.
You glance at him as you walk, trailing your eyes along the sharp line of his jaw beneath the warm glow of the streetlights. He's dressed too nicely for the bike waiting at the curb, painted in dark clothes and silver rings along with the kind of face that makes people stop and turn their heads twice without even realizing they're doing it. For a short second, you wonder if he knows how unfair he looks tonight. But jokes on you, he probably does.
Because Jeon Jungkook is one cocky bastard, even though he doesn't show it a lot.
"You could've said no, you know." You say lightly when you reach the bike. "If it's impossible for you to be alone with me without glaring like you want me dead."
Jungkook exhales through his nose, pulling the spare helmet from the handle and holding it out to you before responding eventually. "I would've said no if i wanted to."
You look down to the helmet, crossing your arms on your chest."You can act a little less miserable, then."
His jaw tightens slightly at that, like he's annoyed with both you and himself. "Put the helmet on." He says, ignoring your claim.
You roll your eyes, but take it from him anyway, not forgetting to let your fingers brush against his on purpose. He shifts under your touch, shoulders tensing beneath his jacket. You're sure he notices the way you're doing it on purpose too, but prefers not to comment on it. Not yet, at least.
"You're quiet tonight." You say, slipping the helmet on.
"You talk enough for the both of us."
"That's not true. You talk plenty when you're…engaged." You say slowly, dragging your gaze over him before settling them back on his face. Jungkook looks at you properly for the first time tonight, and he makes sure to look at you with purpose. Enough to let you know he's still thinking about it too.
The bathroom, everything you did that day, everything he did after you left. Not a single second of it has left his mind ever since.
"Get on the bike." He says, tongue poking the inside of cheek before he speaks.
You do, but you do it so slowly Jungkook thinks he wants to dig his grave right then and there. You place your hands on his shoulders before sliding them over his chest as you move behind him, taking your time in a way that feels cruel. By the time you finally sit, there's barely any space between your bodes. Your knees press against his thighs, your arms wrap around his waist, and your chest leans onto his back.
"You know," You murmur near his ear, and it takes so much in him to not go still at the lingering heat of your breath. "For someone who keeps telling me to stop, you never actually do anything."
His grip tightens around the handles. "You don't listen."
"Maybe i'd listen if you were better at hiding how much you like it."
You feel how his body stiffens immediately as he inhales sharply before starting the engine. "Hold properly." He says, completely dismissing your words.
When the bike finally pulls away from the curb, you settle against him even closer than before, letting your body melt into the warmth of his. You smile to yourself beneath the helmet, because this time, you know exactly how tonight is going to end.
Your hands wander all over him throughout the entirety of the ride, tracing lines starting from his chest all the way down to his thighs. Jungkook has no idea how the hell he's survived when he rolls the bike into your garage, but he definitely knows the tension between you has turned into something so physical he feels like he's going to burst.
Neither of you can move when the engine cuts off, because the air is still vibrating from the ride. Because your body stayed pressed against his the entire way home like you were trying to test how much restraint one could realistically have before it gave out completely.
And judging by how Jungkook is handling it all— not much.
"You should go inside." He says eventually, back still turned to you.
You slowly let go of his waist, leaning back slightly as you take off your helmet. "I don't really want to."
Jungkook lets out a breath through his nose, then hops off the bike as he takes the helmet from your hand and places it back on the handle alongside his own. When he's back on the bike, he's facing you, legs placed on both sides of the vehicle.
He calls your name, but it sounds completely ruined in his mouth now, rough and raw around the edges by weeks of restraint and the complete lack of it sitting underneath. He shakes his head in frustration, dragging a hand along his face.
"Look, you— this, whatever you've been trying to do all night. No, scratch that, you've been doing this for weeks now. It's not going to happen, it can't happen."
"You wanna know what i think?" You ask instead, tilting your head.
"No."
"I think you liked avoiding me."
Jungkook's eyes darken at your words, sharp enough to slice through your skin that's ravaged with desire. And as the dawn slowly breaks, you see the walls crumbling down beneath his feverish, agitated gaze. Because you've already stripped him out of his armor and he hates how naked and vulnerable he might look to your eyes.
"You liked it because it gave you an excuse to think about me all the time." Your voice softens slightly, just enough to feel intimate. "Every room i walked into, every conversation you avoided, every time you looked away before i caught you. You liked it because that was the only way to fill your mind with me without feeling guilty."
Jungkook laughs quietly, but there's nothing amused about it. The sound comes out frayed, disbelieving, like he's hearing his own thoughts being spoken back to him in your voice and hates how accurate they sound.
"You think this is easy for me?" He asks, and the shift in his tone catches you off-guard. It's not softer, not gentler either— but it's honest. Raw in a way that sits somewhere so deep in his chest, so much more than he has been willing to show until now. "You think i enjoy walking into a room and having to pretend i'm not thinking about you?"
At his confession, your breath stutters without waiting for permission. Because suddenly, every letter rolling out of his tongue feels heavy. Because this is the first time he's admitting it out loud, even if it sounds like it's being dragged out against his will.
His eyes dip briefly to your lips before lifting again, but it's slow, as if the movement costs him something he can't pay for. "You keep looking at me like that." He mutters, so low that you think it's not meant for you.
"Like what?" You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.
"Like you already know i'm gonna give in."
You tilt your head slightly, pushing yourself further into his embrace. "Are you?" You ask, voice laced with a honeyed amusement.
He exhales sharply with closed eyes, and for a second, you think he's actually going to walk away. You see the glimpses of conflict flash across his features, shoulders tensing like he's forcing himself to hold onto the last scraps of control he has left.
But then his hands find your waist, firm and certain in a way that makes you believe he won't let go this time. Whatever was left of Jungkook's self-control gives in completely, and his lips are on yours in an instant.
A mix of gasps and moans falls from your lips, and he swallows them without wasting a second. Your fists find his jacket, tugging onto the fabric as you close the remaining bits and pieces of distance between your bodies.
His hands drop drown to your hips, moving them to the rhythm of your lips until you're fully on his lap. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, searching for permission to be let in even further into your mouth. You grant him the access immediately, his tongue clashing against yours in a way that's hot, wet, and so fucking desperate.
You draw circles with your hips on his lap, his already hardened length pressing into your clothed core. The friction feels so good it blows your breath away, and your stomach flutters every time his skin touches yours in a way that's rather vulnerable and intimate instead of sole lust.
Jungkook feels his cock pulsing beneath the fabric of his jeans, and he swears he's going to cum on the spot if you keep moving your hips like that. Your wetness leaves filthy stains on the course denim, marking him with your arousal.
"This dress," He breathes into your mouth, voice laced with fever as he tugs onto the thin fabric. "You wore it for me?"
You smirk into the kiss, not forgetting to continue moving your hips. "Wouldn't you like to know." You sing softly.
He scoffs, hand sliding in through your dress to settle on your bare ass, giving it a hard squeeze, fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Oh, i already do."
The moment a soft trace of streetlights spread inside from the corner and chase away the darkness, Jungkook knows it's his cue to pull away. A final opportunity to let him fix everything he has broken and lost himself inside, a weak excuse to allow him wake up to a brighter morning without the weight of betrayal and regret and burnt desire he hates himself for not being able to keep hidden.
But he doesn't, he's so lost in the drug called you and as your body searches his further and further, there's almost nothing left in him that's holding him back from being gone completely.
Your movements on his lap grow into something more and more desperate, pussy aching with need as his hands wander all around your body, feeling you up beneath your dress. He lifts the skirt over your hips, exposing it to the cool air of the garage and your breath hitches at the feeling of being so bare all of a sudden.
"Shit— stop, stop." He nearly begs, pulling his lips away from yours. You look back at him, momentarily thrown. Because what does he mean stop? He can't, not right now, not when he's got you all hot and bothered on his lap.
"What's wrong?" You ask softly, brows pulling together.
"I'm— I'll cum if you keep doing that. Wanna be inside you."
The words mean so much more to you than just lust. Because this isn't only want, not at all. It's ravishment, the breakage of suppression that has been dressed up as a boundary for way too long. Jungkook has spent weeks— no, scratch that. He has spent years holding himself together so tightly you almost started believing he was actually capable of resisting you.
But now, he's sitting beneath you, looking completely unraveled by your body against his. Nothing more, nothing less.
You did that. The thought alone makes you dizzy.
You take a moment to let your gaze drift over his face; taking in the spent rise and fall of his chest, his red lips that are swollen from kissing you, the frustration and desperation tangled together beneath his darkened gaze…He looks wrecked in a way that doesn't suit him at all. Because Jeon Jungkook has always been a man of precision and there isn't a single ounce left of it in his being tonight.
He was always guarded in a way that kept every ugly thought locked somewhere private, somewhere no one else could reach, could touch. And now, Jeon Jungkook is falling apart right in front of you— because of you.
"Yeah? You want to fuck me, Jungkook?" You ask slowly, voice low and sultry as your nails trail lines along his inner thighs.
Jungkook lets out a low groan before speaking. "Come here." He says, pulling you back onto him. You laugh with the movement as your hands work on the zipper of his jeans, and he lifts his hips enough to assist you pull them off just enough.
Once his boxers are pulled down and his cock is all bare and exposed for you to see, you can't help but let your lips part in shock. You feel yourself nearly drooling over his size because fuck, he's huge.
You shouldn't be shocked, you've already felt him up and you expected nothing less. But seeing it like this, thick and long and leaking for you— you think you're going to pass away.
"See something you like, baby?" He smirks, all cocky and confident.
"That's not going to fit." You reply immediately, gaze flicking up and down consecutively.
"We'll make it fit." He says, eyes stuck on yours as he gives himself a few strokes. "And you're going to take every inch like the good girl you are."
You just stare at him, utterly in shock, almost scared. Because what the actual fuck is he talking about? You've never taking anything this big, and you're not sure if anyone ever has either.
"You were begging for me to fuck you. Weren't you, princess? Were so desperate for my cock and now what? Cat's got your tongue?" He says, a loose grin on his face as his thumb swipes over the head and spreads the precum.
"I'll take it." You say obediently.
"Yeah?" He breathes, lifting your hips so that your entrance is lining up with his cock.
"I'll take all of it. Need your big cock so bad. Fuck me, Jungkook. Please, need it." You beg, trying to push yourself down to take him into your cunt but he tightens his hands around your hips to hold you in place.
He guides your hips down slowly, letting you feel every line and every vein that's painting his pretty length. You whine at the stretch, but there's still half of him you haven't taken yet.
"Fuck," He groans, letting his eyes close and his head fall back as you sink down further. "You're so tight."
You both moan loudly as he presses your hips down fully, your wet cunt swallowing him wholly. He watches as his cock disappears between your folds, so wet and creamy with your slick that's already obnoxiously overflowing. Once all of him is inside you, you let out a high pitched whimper, feeling the way your walls burn with how good he's stretching you, because he's just that big. So fucking massive it's insane. And you swear you've never felt this full in your entire life.
"Holy shit." You gasp when he lifts his hips to meet you halfway, balls hitting your ass with the movement.
"How does it feel, princess? Anything like you imagined?" He asks, thrusting up into you as he guides your hips down, hands squeezing the flesh of your plump ass. "Use your big girl words, i know you can."
"So good, Jungkook. I'm so full, you're so— so big." You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.
He pushes down the top of your dress, exposing the lace fabric of your red bra. He pulls it down just enough to bare your boobs, breath hitching the moment they bounce free right in front of his eyes.
Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath the moment you find your pace, your tits bouncing up and down as you hop on his cock, riding him to chase your own high. One of his hands lift to massage your tit as the other keeps digging into the flesh of your ass. You whimper when he takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, bouncing on his cock in a pace that slowly grows into something sloppier as the hot feeling of your orgasm starts building low in your stomach.
"Kook, i'm cumming. Shit."
"Yeah? Let it go, baby. Cream all over my fat cock."
His words do it for you, and you fall apart on his cock after a few more thrusts. Your legs start shaking and you bury your head in his neck for support, panting into his skin.
"You okay?" He asks, head tilted as he tries looking at your profile.
"Yeah…just," You breathe, straightening your posture to pull away and take a proper look at him. "Wanna make you feel good."
Jungkook groans loudly, letting his head fall back at your words. Because how can he act normal, how can he hold it together when your mouth keeps reciting filthy words so casually like you're talking about the weather?
He can't believe this, he still can't believe he's just fucked you on his stupid bike. Because this is you. Jaehyun's little sister. The girl he spent years forcing himself not to look at for to long. And now, he's got you all naked and completely spent on his lap, touching him like the yellow light that's filling up the void of control he'd built for himself, warming him up so intimately without even realizing you're doing so.
He's a goner. He's so irreversibly fucked and completely gone.
But what worsens it for him is, that you don't look too different from the state he's in. You've fallen apart right in front of his eyes, skin flushed, sounds breathless, movements desperate. They tell him you're just as gone as he is. There is something so dizzying about it, about seeing the exact effect he has on you after weeks of wondering whether he imagined it all or not.
He didn't.
Thank god, he didn't.
As his eyes wander all over you, desire burning through him so intensely it almost feels violent, he thinks about the one thing he has been dying to ask you.
Because if he doesn't ask now, when will he ever?
"Can i—" Jungkook cuts himself off with a quiet curse, dragging a hand down his face before looking back at you. "Fuck, can i fuck your tits?"
The corner of your mouth twitches upwards immediately, amusement curling through your face despite how breathless he left you just minutes ago. The overhead light catches against the flush spreading across your skin, showing off the mess he's made of you.
Your fingertips move onto the hem of your dress, pausing there long enough for anticipation to sizzle in his lungs before you slowly pull the fabric upwards.
Jungkook watches every movement, so so carefully. Like he's afraid that if he blinks, he'll miss something. And when your dress is completely off, he thinks that he might actually die right then and there.
The breath that leaves him when you unclasp your bra and let it fall down to the ground is sharp. His gaze drags over you with a kind of raw hunger he stopped trying to hide a long time ago tonight. There is nothing composed about him now, nothing careful. Just pure, unadulterated want.
"Jesus Christ." He mutters under his breath, hands flexing at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.
You tilt your head slightly, watching him through your lashes, a small and seductive smile playing on your lips. "You look overwhelmed."
"You think?" He argues, a rough laugh slipping out of his lips. "Press'em together for me, baby." He says, hands braced behind him as he leans into the handlebars.
You press your tits together, then lean forward onto him to take his cock between the soft flesh of your boobs. Jungkook's eyes flutter shut in an instant, a low groan escaping his lips as you start moving your chest up and down. His dick is already so wet, sliding between your boobs seamlessly.
"Love your tits, princess. Gonna paint them with my seed." He moans, long gone in the bliss. Jungkook's hips jerk beyond his control, and he starts fucking your tits as you move along with his pace.
He cums all over your chest not long after with low grunts of curses and your name on his tongue.
The garage still feels warm, still thick with tension and the aftermath of everything that just happened, everything that was boundto happen for weeks. But there isn't an edge to it anymore. Because Jungkook isn't looking at you the way he was just a few hours ago. Because now, there's no frustration behind his gaze. Instead, he looks wrecked.
He leans back against the handlebars as he tries catching his breath, one hand still on your thigh. You sit sideways across his lap, completely naked, hair messy, lips swollen.
Your fingers drift absentmindedly along the collar of his shirt as he tries catching his breath, smoothing the fabric. "You know," You murmur, eyes dancing over him. "You're a lot softer than i thought you'd be."
Jungkook laughs lightly. "You literally spent weeks trying to ruin my life."
"Mhm." You tilt your head, pretending to think. "You survived tho."
He snorts, thumb drawing circles on your thigh. "Barely."
You smile, then lean into his chest when his hand slides higher along your waist without really thinking, skin calloused and a little rough on your soft skin. But for some reason, it comforts you in a way nothing ever has.
Because for a second, it doesn't feel complicated at all. It doesn't feel like boundaries or guilt or Jaehyun or years of years of knowing each other but never doing anything about it. It just feels like Jungkook's hands on your body and the quiet look in his eyes that says he's still trying to process how badly he wanted this.
How badly he still wants it.
"I really tried not to." He says suddenly.
You look at him, brows pulling together faintly as you try to figure out what he's going to say. "Tried not to what?"
His eyes flick down to your lips before lifting again. "Want you."
Your stomach flips when he says that. Because they sound real. There is no teasing in them. No temptation, no flirtation. Just raw, unadulterated truth.
You lift your head to look at him properly, suddenly a little too aware of how close the two of you still are. How his hand hasn't moved from your waist, how your legs are still tangled with his on the bike like neither of you has figured out how to leave.
"You sucked at it." You say softly.
That earns you a real laugh this time. It's quiet and tired, yet warm around the edges in a way you've never heard him before. Even if you have, it was never for you. But now it feels so intimate that every breath he takes, every word he says, every single thing he does is in honour to you.
"Yeah, i know." And for one dangerous moment, everything feels easy.
Then the front door slams open upstairs.
"I'm home!" Jaehyun's voice echoes through the house; loud, drunk and completely unaware. "Why the fuck is the garage light on?"
Genre: Mafia!au , Slowburn, Angst, Hurt, smut, TW (it is a mafia!AU, after all)
Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader
Synopsis : In a world governed by clans and blood debts, nothing ever burns by accident; fading embers are nurtured carefully, mistaken for mercy and the gentle promise of warmth through the night. But fire answers to no one, and it has never spared what—or who—was foolish enough to keep it close.
Wordcount : 120k
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9
Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15
Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18
Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21
Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24
Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27
Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30
Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33
Chapter 34. Chapter 35 Chapter 36
Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39
Chapter 40 Chapter 41
Teaser Book 2
Book 2
(out, starting February)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19 (coming soon)
Between the Li(n)es
Genre: Idol!au, mega mega Angst, mega mega Hurt, eventual mega Smut.
Pairing: Ex!Jungkook x reader (+featuring the one and only Mr. Harry Styles in honor of 2026 marking the comeback of all our husbands)
You work as a Postal Clerk, where the war comes back in pieces, in envelopes, in lists, in the carefully intricate accounting of names that were still spoken, and those that no longer were, but more importantly the ones that stop appearing altogether. You’re grounded in the permanence of the ink.
Jeon Jeongguk, is one of the few who aren’t. A First Lieutenant Pilot who lives between takeoff and return, he has no patience for performance, no letters, no promises, nothing that might outlast the moment he’s in. It’s easier for him that way. Lighter.
World War II held an unforgiving greed, had a way of pressing life into something sharper. It took girls that still had the privilege of standing on the edge of something softer, and placed them into roles that demanded steadiness, that ordered their soft hands to stitch wounds, sort names and will life into soulless bodies. And the boys, the boys were handed wings and rifles and names that sounded older than they were, sent up into the sky before they’ve learnt the weight of staying. With whispered prayers derived from muscle memory, that their boys’ courage could be learned in the span of a morning. As though willing the distance between youth and survival to be crossed by boyish obedience alone. As though fear, if left unspoken, would disappear as another foolish notion in face of the disorder of 1944.
War has a way of giving you a map of somewhere distant, and declaring it enough.
You weren’t meant to meet beyond a passing moment on the wrong train, not in passing, not in any way that would leave a mark where the war hadn’t already, but the impulsive anonymous letters begin to bridge the distance between you.
But war has a way of intervening with even the smallest things. So, when silence from one end begins to mean something it hadn’t before, you’re both left questioning permanence, more intricately, what are you meant to hold onto, when nothing in 1944 is meant to last?
pairings: pilot!jjk x fem!postal-clerk!reader
tags/warnings: inspired by mota, explicit combat scenes, bomber squadron!jkk, mentions of death, soldiers, mentions of alcohol consumption, set in world war II, bombing, romcom humour, slow burn, intimate scenes/eventual smut, heavy angst, war, poetic love, miscommunication, guarded feelings, yearning, use of nicknames, intense loving, trauma, coping, emotional constipation, old love and truly deep heartfelt love, (more to be added - specified for each chapter).
features: kim taehyung.
heavily inspired by Masters of the Air.
01 - THE FIRST TIME WE DIDN’T KNOW. - came out 24th of April 2026.
02 - IN INK AND IN PASSING - came out 28th of April
03 - COLLISION COURSE - came out 2nd of May, my favourite one yet! heavy ROM-COM vibes.
CHAPTER O4 - coming out 15th/20th of May
OTHER CHAPTERS - TBC…
to begin the taglist, just comment! please reblog it means everything!
this piece is for the yearners, you’ll hopefully feel this story as if you’ve lived it yourself, a past-life sort-of memory, i hope it sits well with you, please comment absolutely anything you want!
↪︎𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: "It's a simple rule in the gang: avoid attachments. But when it comes to Jungkook, that's easier said than done."
↪︎𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: enemies to lovers, slow burn, gang au, angst with smut, fuck buddies, forbidden love, secret relationship
↪︎𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: here (MUST READ)
↪︎𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeon jungkook x f!reader
↪︎𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: book 1/3 finished | 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐜: 247k. | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 30/~90ish
↪︎𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: taglist
↪︎𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐚 𝐚𝐛𝐯. 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: KGPGY
taking a break between book 1 and 2 to outline and write / backlog chapters. <3
⊹･ﾟ✧ plot✧ﾟ･⊹
When you join Kkangpae's Seduction Division, you know the rules: no attachments, no relationships, no exceptions. The consequences are fatal—you've seen them firsthand. But rules become complicated when the Chief of Tactical Assassinations keeps looking at you like you're his next target, and not the kind he takes out with a sniper rifle.
— summary: you stopped expecting anything from love a long time ago. four years on your own taught you that much until you crossed paths with jungkook at yoongi’s birthday party. what begins as a chance encounter quickly becomes something real. and now, are you ready to close your eyes and trust him?
— pairing: jungkook x fem. reader
— genre: strangers to lovers, ceo au, biker au, slow burn, angst, fluff, and smut
— total word count: around 40k in total
— author’s note: soo this happened... this started completely naturally, i never expected to write a fanfic this soon, but i've been having so much fun working on it, and i wanted to share it with you all 🥰 i'm still working on it, but as i've been writing a lot the past few days, i already know that by mid-may both parts will be over. jungkook was used as a visual only on the fic, as this had no chosen member at the beginning 🤗 i guess this puts some kind of an end to my hiatus (still not sure though), and i hope you'll enjoy this as much as i'm enjoying writing it ❤️ thank you so so much for your support guys!! means always so so much ❤️
18+ | warnings listed in each part
join the taglist ✨
PART I: release on Sunday 17th May 2026
⤷ meeting jungkook at yoongi’s birthday was unexpected, but in less than twenty-four hours, he made you feel more alive than you have in years. letting him into your life felt just natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s simple. as you slowly get to know him, you find yourself trusting him more… but should you really? or is he hiding something from you?
PART II: release on Sunday 24th May 2026
⤷ finding out about his secret from someone else hurts more than expected. you’ve always hated lies, and he knew it, which made it even harder. his intentions were never meant to hurt you; he just wanted to be seen for who he truly is. despite it all, your heart burns for him. you’ve never loved anyone this intensely, but are you truly ready to trust him again?
a good heart can take you surprisingly far in a city like seoul, or so you tell yourself between routines that don’t leave much room for anything else. hold the elevator, smile at the cashier, leave a little food out for a hungry cat — small beats to fight the dull city grey. so why is the pavement on your walk home suddenly stained a bloody red? and why is it only you who notices the man lying there half-dead?
about: dark. mature themes. death, blood, violence & gore. self harm. codependent relationship. age gap? you’re both.. 26? asian religious themes. korean culture & history. urban decay. panic attacks. smoking & alcohol consumption. supernatural. korean mythology. shamanism. spiritual horror. rituals. more korean culture & history. dissociation. false reality. each chapter will have their respective warnings
moodboard + spotify playlist + masterlist
based off works like bts’ arirang, ghibli’s spirited away, disney’s alice in wonderland & gaiman’s neverwhere
if you hear a cat at night,
prologue: the night hears you (soon!)
chapter one: the offering is accepted
chapter two: take line 2
. . .
started: 15.05.2026 status: coming soon
taglist: open !
note: boom boom pow horror series while i have a bunch of fluff fics in my drafts because i am insane. this all started from when i did a deep dive on the cultural and historical references the boys wrote into arirang, i fell down a rabbit hole and did so much research and i hope to portray everything respectfully! my love letter to culture and history
genre: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend
summary: your ex-high-school crush is now your fuck buddy. you just gotta make sure that your older brother taehyung, jungkook's best friend, doesn't catch you red-handed.
*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ**✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*
pt 01: ego season (m) 6.3k
pov: you make ur secret fuck buddy jealous.
pt 02: number 7 (m) 3k
pov: your jealous fuck buddy pounds you in his jersey.
pt 03: hush-hush (m) 1.5k
pov: you receive a dick pic from jungkook while you're out on a family dinner.
pt 04: too hot to handle (m) 5.3k [one year ago]
pov: it's a hot summer day, and naturally, your brother's best friend can't take his eyes off your scantily clad body.
pt 05: summer playlist (m) 4k
pov: jungkook dedicates a cute playlist to you and fucks you to it on the balcony.
pt 06: yours, but not yours (m, a) 3.6k
pov: you're his, he's yours, but only when it's convenient.
pt 07: next move (m, a) 13.7k
pov: you’ve spent so long pushing jungkook away, but now you’re the one trying to pull him back in.
pt 08: pierced (m)
pov: you get a belly button piercing and jungkook is obsessed.
Captain!Jungkook × F! Reader || Romance, Angst to Comfort, Nautical AU, Second Chances, Slow Burn.
﹐⊂⊃﹕ COMPETITIVE 🩰﹐ᶻz
Boyfriend! jeon jungkook x f! reader || established relationship, Clingy jungkook, extreme domestic fluff, pure unadulterated devotion
﹐⊂⊃﹕ CONVENIENTLY YOURS 🩰﹐ᶻz
Husband!Jeon Jungkook × wify! Reader || Romance, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Smut, Married Life, Arranged Marriage, Convenience to Love, Only One Bed, Virgin/First Time Together.
﹐⊂⊃﹕ WEIGHT OF WORDS 🩰﹐ᶻz
Boyfriend! jeon jungkook x f! reader || established relationship, first intense argument, hurt/comfort, emotional growth, patient jungkook, communication is key!!
professor! jungkook x baker! oc || lost journal trope | slow burn | shy-to-shy chemistry | strangers to lovers | eventual smut| forced distance | late-night text aesthetics | destiny.
AN: I thought of making a separate list for oneshots, and I also haven't created a masterlist for my series yet, so you can check out my other works here (main masterlist) 🤍 Also REQUESTS are open!! Let us try out oneshot requests!!! (Jungkook requests) but please be VERY detailed and specific about your requests!!
— He didn't mean to take it. She didn't mean to leave it. An accidental bus ride in the dead of night turned a stranger's journal into a bridge between two lonely souls. He found it in the silence of an empty bus, a remnant of a life he didn't know. He meant to hand it over to someone, but after one glance at the ink on the pages, he couldn't let it go. Now, the space between the professor and the baker is filled with the hum of midnight notifications. They are strangers who have never seen each other’s faces, navigating the terrifying, electric thrill of falling for a soul they’ve only ever read. The journal was lost, but perhaps, they were always meant to be found.
— lost journal trope | slow burn | shy-to-shy chemistry | strangers to lovers | forced distance | late-night text aesthetics | destiny.
— ꒰ 🥐 ꒱ —
The Summary
Jungkook’s life is a masterclass in order—a world of lecture halls, grading, and the predictable hum of the city. One night, a rare transit emergency forces him to abandon the metro and take a midnight bus, a route he never travels.
As he prepares to exit, he spots a leather-bound journal left behind on an empty, silent bus. No one is around to claim it, and the bus is empty of passengers. He picks it up, intending to find a way to return it to its owner the next day.
Back in the solitude of his apartment, the journal—titled Finding You—sits on his desk. He intends to wait, to perhaps give it to a transit office or wait for a "lost and found" notice, but the curiosity is a physical weight. He opens it, expecting nothing more than a name, but finds a world of soft, poetic entries. The owner, Eliz, a baker who sees the beauty in the quiet, flour-dusted hours of the morning.
Jungkook finds her Instagram handle tucked in the back, but he doesn't report the book. Instead, he finds himself paralyzed by the unexpected intimacy of her thoughts. The professor, usually so composed, is terrified to reach out. When he finally sends that first, cautious DM, it marks the beginning of an agonizingly sweet, shy slow burn. They are strangers separated by geography and coincidence, connected only by a journal that was meant to be lost, and a digital dialogue that is quickly becoming their entire world.
— ꒰ 🥐 ꒱ —
A.N: This is not the masterlist for the story, so consider it a taglist (actually a teaser post). Comment to be tagged in the masterlist and future chapters of this story.
With his crazy good looks and panty-dropper charms, your best friend in the whole wide world is a boss level homme fatal, which is why you find it hoax level unbelievable when Jungkook declares he hasn’t had sex in three years. With all these people willing to sacrifice their firstborns just to spend one night with him, what can possibly be standing in his way?
jungkook x reader (f): friends to fwbs to lovers, smut, angst, mutual pining, slowburn
cw (18+): subject to update. chapters will have major warnings only, please read at your own risk. exploration of darker sexuality, themes of free use, objectification and fetishism, trust and control issues, intimacy building, recreational substance use, strong language, graphic sexual content depicting sexual deviance (specific warnings provided where applicable)
⤷ in which…when you fall sick, your beloved boyfriend Jungkook stays by your side as caretaker, but your symptoms turn out to be something neither of you expected - you’re pregnant. What follows is fear, uncertainty, and two people trying to navigate an unplanned future together while holding on to each other.
pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x sick!reader
genre: slice of life | unwanted pregnancy | established relationship |
warnings: mentions of pregnancy | mentions of throwing up + fainting | little angst | kissing |
word count: 12.4k
a/n: this is just a little something I had sitting in my drafts from a while ago, been kind of busy so I’m not planning to release the first chapter of my series until next week maybe : < thank you so so much for all the likes on my recent posts and 163 followers!!! I hope you guys enjoy ☺️ requests are always open
EPILOGUE !!
____________________________________________
You wake slowly, like you’re being pulled up from deep water by a rope that keeps slipping through your fingers. Your head feels heavy, stuffed with cotton and heat, and every time you try to focus your eyes on the ceiling above you, the world tilts faintly as if the room itself is breathing.
The blanket tangled around your legs feels too warm, yet the air against your skin sends chills racing down your arms, and it takes a moment for you to realize that your entire body aches in that dull, stubborn way that makes even turning your head feel like an effort.
You vaguely remember falling asleep in the middle of an unfinished email, the glow of your laptop fading somewhere beside you while Jungkook told you for the fifth time that you needed to rest.
You remember brushing him off because there were deadlines and meetings and responsibilities that didn’t care if you were tired. But now your throat burns when you swallow, your limbs feel like they belong to someone else, and the quiet apartment around you feels too still for the frantic pace your life has been moving at for months.
Somewhere in the kitchen, a cupboard door shuts softly. The sound floats through the apartment in that careful way that tells you someone is trying not to wake you, and you already know who it is before you hear the kettle click on.
Jungkook has always been like that when he’s worried - gentle, deliberate, moving through the space like every noise might disturb something fragile.
Even half asleep and feverish, you recognize the rhythm of his presence. The way he hums under his breath when he’s thinking, the way the floor creaks once near the fridge because he always steps on the same board.
You want to call out to him, but your voice feels stuck somewhere behind the ache in your chest, so you settle for pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders and closing your eyes again, hoping that maybe if you rest long enough your body will reset itself and you can pretend none of this happened.
But the bedroom door ends up opening few minutes later anyway.
The hinge gives its usual quiet creak, and warm light spills into the dim room before soft footsteps approach the bed. The mattress dips as Jungkook sits down beside you, and even before his hand touches your forehead, you can feel the warmth of him - solid, steady, and familiar in a way that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his palm presses gently against your skin, and the contrast between the coolness of his fingers and the heat in your body makes you flinch slightly. You force your eyes open, blinking up at him through the haze of the fever, and his face immediately tightens with concern.
“You’re still really hot,” he says quietly.
You try to smile. “I told you it’s just a cold.”
But Jungkook hasn’t slept properly since three in the morning. He noticed something was wrong long before you admitted it. It started with the way you rubbed your temples during dinner last night, then the way your voice sounded rough when you tried to laugh at something he said.
You kept insisting you were fine, brushing him off with tired little smiles that didn’t reach your eyes, and he tried to let it go because he knows how much you hate being fussed over. But when he woke up in the middle of the night and found you sitting in the living room with your laptop, wrapped in a blanket and shivering while sweat dampened the back of your neck, something in his chest tightened in that familiar, helpless way that always happens when you push yourself too far.
Now, sitting beside you on the bed, he studies your face with a quiet intensity that makes his chest ache.
Your cheeks are flushed with fever, your hair sticking messily to your forehead, and the dark circles under your eyes look worse than they did yesterday. You look exhausted in a way that goes deeper than just being sick, like the last few months have been draining something out of you little by little.
He knows why. He knows the pressure you’ve been under at work, the way your boss keeps dangling the possibility of a promotion while piling more responsibility onto your shoulders. He knows about the rent increase the landlord mentioned last week, the savings account that never seems to grow fast enough, the quiet late night conversations the two of you have had about whether you should move somewhere cheaper or somehow make this work.
You’re carrying too much, and Jungkook hates that he can’t take more of it from you.
He brushes your hair away from your forehead again, slower this time. “You’ve been saying that for hours,” he says softly.
Your groan is weak but stubborn. “Because it’s true.”
The truth is, you hate the way he looks at you when you’re sick. Not because it’s annoying or overbearing - Jungkook has never been the type to smother you - but because there’s something painfully gentle in his eyes that makes you feel fragile in a way you’re not used to.
You’ve spent most of your life being the reliable one, the person who keeps moving even when things get difficult, the one who doesn’t stop just because your body wants to. Being forced to lie here while someone else takes care of you feels strange and uncomfortable, like wearing clothes that don’t quite fit.
Yet Jungkook just sighs softly beside you. You feel his hand slide down from your forehead to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek as if he’s checking to make sure you’re still real. The touch is so gentle it almost hurts.
“You should’ve told me earlier,” he murmurs.
You want to roll your eyes, but you know that’d be unreasonable. “I did tell you.”
“No,” he says quietly. “You said you were fine.”
The difference between those two things hangs in the air, and you don’t answer right away. Instead you close your eyes again, leaning slightly into his palm before you can stop yourself, because even through the fever and the exhaustion there’s something incredibly comforting about the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.
“You have work today,” you mumble eventually.
“I called in.”
Your eyes snap open. “You what?”
Jungkook had expected that reaction. Your eyebrows knit together in immediate concern, the fever momentarily forgotten as you push yourself halfway upright in the bed. The movement clearly costs you more energy than you expected because you sway slightly, and Jungkook instinctively reaches out to steady you, his hands settling around your shoulders.
“Easy,” he murmurs.
“You can’t just call in,” you insist hoarsely, even though your voice cracks halfway through the sentence. “You already took time off last month when the cafe was short staffed.”
At the moment, Jungkook is sort of in-between jobs. He mainly does freelance graphic design, but he’s not been receiving many requests lately, resulting in him having to get a job at the cafe nearby.
“That’s exactly why I can call in,” Jungkook replies calmly. “Minho owes me like five shifts.”
“But still-”
“y/n.” Your name leaves his mouth in that gentle but firm tone he rarely uses, the one that instantly makes you pause.
He studies your face for a moment before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The contact lingers longer than usual, his lips warm against your overheated skin.
“You’re sick,” he says quietly. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
The simple certainty in his voice makes your chest tighten unexpectedly, and you don’t realize how emotional you feel until your eyes start burning.
It’s embarrassing, honestly. You’re a grown woman with a mild fever, not someone who needs to cry about it. But the last few weeks have been relentless - late nights, endless expectations, the creeping fear that you’re somehow falling behind everyone else your age who seems to have their lives figured out.
Some of your friends are buying houses, some are getting married, some are already talking about kids.
Meanwhile you and Jungkook are still arguing about rent, still calculating grocery budgets, still wondering whether the future will ever stop feeling like something slightly out of reach.
So when he presses that gentle kiss to your forehead and tells you he’s staying, something inside you cracks just enough for the tears to spill over. You turn your face into the pillow quickly.
“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs softly, trying to hide the immediate panic as he tries to figure out if he’s said something wrong.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
“I said I’m fine.” Your voice sounds small even to your own ears.
A moment later you feel the bed shift again as Jungkook moves closer, his arms wrapping carefully around you from behind. He pulls you against his chest, one hand resting lightly over your stomach while the other rubs slow circles along your arm.
“You don’t have to be fine all the time,” he whispers, and somehow that only makes everything worse.
___
Jungkook hates seeing you like this.
Not because your vulnerability makes him uncomfortable - if anything, it makes him want to hold you even closer - but because he knows exactly how hard it is for you to let your guard down.
You’ve always been the strong one, the planner, the person who keeps things moving when life gets messy. Even when things were difficult between the two of you last year, when money was tight and stress turned small disagreements into bigger ones, you were the one who kept saying you’d figure it out.
But lately he’s been noticing the cracks, the late nights, the headaches, the way you stare at your laptop sometimes like it’s personally betraying you. So when your shoulders start shaking softly against his chest, Jungkook tightens his arms around you without hesitation. He presses another kiss into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo and something warm that always reminds him of home.
“You’re exhausted,” he murmurs.
“I’m just sick.”
“You’re both.”
You really can’t argue this time.
Outside the apartment, footsteps echo faintly in the hallway, followed by the familiar sound of laughter from the unit next door. Jungkook glances toward the wall automatically.
“Sounds like Taehyung and Jina are up,” he says quietly.
Taehyung and Jina are the couple who live in the apartment two doors down from you. The first night you two moved in, they had accidentally got the wrong door and tried to stumble in drunk, causing you and Jungkook to literally shit yourselves as you thought someone was trying to break in and fumble with the lock.
The next morning, however, a way more sobered up Jina and Taehyung came to your door with an apology and two bottles of wine, promising you it would never happen again and making them your best friends forever.
Almost as if on cue, a loud knock suddenly echoes through the apartment door, followed by Taehyung’s unmistakable voice shouting from the hallway: “Jungkook! Tell Jina you took the coffee she bought last week!”
Jungkook closes his eyes, and you let out a weak laugh against his chest. Somehow, despite the fever burning through your body and the endless list of problems waiting outside this small apartment, the moment feels just a little bit lighter.
The knock on the door echoes again, louder this time, followed by the sound of someone leaning dramatically against the hallway wall outside. You can practically picture the scene without moving - Taehyung slouched with exaggerated patience while Jina stands next to him with her arms crossed, pretending she’s not amused by his theatrics.
The two of them have been your neighbors for almost a year now, close enough that your lives have quietly woven together in ways that feel more like family than friendship.
You hear Jungkook sigh softly, the kind of long suffering sigh that says he loves his friends but also knows they have the worst possible timing in the universe. His arms loosen around you as he carefully helps you settle back against the pillows, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders like you’re made of glass.
The small domestic tenderness of the movement makes something warm spread through your chest despite the fever, and when he leans down to press another lingering kiss against your temple, his lips stay there for a moment longer than necessary, like he’s silently checking that you’re still here.
“You stay here,” he murmurs quietly, brushing your hair away from your face again. “I’ll deal with them before Taehyung breaks the door down.”
You try to protest automatically, because the idea of Jungkook playing caretaker while you lie here uselessly still doesn’t sit comfortably with you, but your voice comes out weaker than expected and dissolves into a tired cough halfway through the sentence. Jungkook’s expression shifts immediately, concern flashing across his face so quickly it almost startles you.
“Okay, that’s it,” he says gently but firmly, pulling the blanket higher around you as if that will somehow contain the illness. “You’re not moving from this bed for at least a few hours. I’m making soup, tea, probably forcing you to take medicine you’ll complain about, and if you try to work today I will physically hide your laptop.”
“That’s emotional blackmail,” you mutter.
“It’s survival strategy.”
You roll your eyes weakly, but the truth is you don’t have the energy to argue. Jungkook smiles faintly when he sees your resistance fade, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek before standing up.
From the hallway, Taehyung knocks again.
“Hello? Jungkook? I know you’re in there. I thought it was rude to keep someone waiting outside?”
Jungkook groans under his breath, then opens the apartment door to find exactly what he expected.
Taehyung is leaning sideways against the wall with the casual elegance of someone who somehow manages to look like a model even while wearing mismatched socks and an oversized hoodie, while Jina stands beside him holding two mugs of coffee and watching him with the patient amusement of someone who has been dating him long enough to know this behavior is permanent.
The moment Jungkook opens the door, Taehyung straightens up with exaggerated excitement.
“Finally!” he exclaims. “I thought you were ignoring me.”
“You’re knocking like a police officer.” Jungkook mutters.
“I knock with passion.”
“No, you knock like you’re trying to arrest someone.”
Jina snorts quietly beside him, lifting one of the mugs in greeting. “Morning,” she says warmly. “We brought coffee because Taehyung drank the last of ours and tried to blame the empty jar on you.”
“I was framed.” Taehyung says immediately.
“You were caught holding the jar.”
“It was circumstantial evidence.”
Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaustion tugging at his patience. Normally he would laugh and let the moment stretch into one of those easy morning conversations that often end with the four of you sitting around the kitchen table for hours, but today the worry sitting heavy in his chest refuses to loosen.
“y/n’s sick,” he says quietly.
The mood changes instantly. Taehyung’s expression shifts from playful to concerned, and Jina’s eyebrows knit together in immediate worry.“How sick?” she asks.
“Fever.” Jungkook replies. “She’s been pushing herself too hard again.”
Taehyung exhales slowly. “That girl is going to work herself into the hospital one day.”
“Don’t say that.” he mutters.
___
You hear the murmur of voices from the hallway and instinctively strain to listen, though the fever fuzzes the edges of everything and makes the words blur together. Still, you catch enough to know what’s happening: Taehyung’s concerned tone, Jina asking questions, Jungkook explaining in that quiet voice he uses when he’s trying not to worry anyone else and reassure himself.
A small part of you feels guilty knowing they’re all out there discussing you like some fragile situation that needs to be managed. You hate being the center of concern, you hate feeling like the weak link in a life that already feels precarious. But another part of you - the tired, aching part that’s been quietly begging for rest - feels oddly comforted by it.
Your eyes drift toward the bedroom door just as footsteps approach again, and a moment later Jungkook returns with Taehyung and Jina following behind him.
Jina’s expression softens immediately when she sees you curled up in the bed. “Oh honey,” she murmurs, setting the coffee mugs down on your bedside table before sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress. “You look miserable.”
“That’s a strong word,” you croak.
“You have the complexion of a tomato.”
“That’s slightly less flattering.”
Taehyung leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as he studies you with theatrical seriousness. “I diagnose you with terrible decision making and chronic overworking.”
“You’re not a doctor,” you mumble.
“I have intuition.”
“You once tried to fix a toaster with a butter knife.”
Taehyung’s eyes narrow. Even at 26, it’s like talking to an immature frat boy. “That toaster was disrespecting me.”
Jungkook watches the interaction with quiet relief. The room feels lighter already, Jina’s calm presence has always had that effect- she brings warmth with her in a way that settles everyone around her, while Taehyung fills the space with chaotic humor that somehow makes even stressful situations feel manageable.
They’ve been like this ever since the four of you became friends: a strange little support system built out of shared dinners, borrowed sugar, late-night conversations about life that stretch into the early morning hours.
Still, Jungkook can’t quite shake the tension in his chest. He moves to sit beside you again, his hand automatically finding yours beneath the blanket. Your fingers are warm - too warm - and he squeezes them gently while watching Jina press the back of her hand against your forehead.
“Yeah.” she says after a moment. “That’s definitely a fever.”
“See?” Jungkook mutters.
You groan quietly. “Everyone’s acting like I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying,” Taehyung says casually. A pause. “Probably.”
“Taehyung,” Jina warns.
“I’m being supportive!”
Jungkook just sighs, you try to laugh, but the effort makes your head spin. The room tilts slightly, forcing you to close your eyes again as a wave of dizziness washes over you. Immediately, you feel Jungkook’s hand tighten around yours.“Hey.” he murmurs softly.
“I’m okay.” you whisper.
“You’re not okay.”
“Semantics.”
His thumb begins tracing slow circles across the back of your hand, a small repetitive motion that somehow steadies you more than the medicine probably would. When you open your eyes again, Jungkook is watching you with that same quiet intensity that always makes your chest ache. “You need to rest,” he says gently.
“I need to send three emails and finish a report.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I can do both.”
“No you can’t.” The stubbornness in his voice makes Taehyung chuckle softly from the doorway.
“Wow,” he says. “Look at you two arguing like a married couple at nine in the morning.”
Jina elbows him. “She’s literally sick.”
“Emotionally sick from capitalism.”
“That’s not helpful, Taehyung.”
You close your eyes again, exhaustion pulling at you like gravity. Jungkook watches you slowly drift toward sleep again, your breathing evening out as the conversation around you fades into the background. The tension in your face softens slightly, and he brushes his thumb gently across your knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand.
He’s scared.
Not in a dramatic way, not in the kind of panic that makes people act irrationally, but in the quiet, persistent way that lingers beneath every thought. The last year hasn’t been easy for either of you. Money problems, unstable jobs, the constant pressure of trying to build a life when it feels like the ground keeps shifting under your feet.
Some nights he lies awake wondering whether he’s doing enough, whether he’s strong enough to carry the weight of the future you both keep trying to imagine. And now you’re sick. Maybe it’s just exhaustion, maybe it’s just stress, but the sight of you curled up in bed like this makes something protective rise in his chest with fierce determination.
He leans down and presses another soft kiss against your hair. “You’re going to be okay.” he whispers quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Across the room, Taehyung and Jina exchange a small glance. Because even they can feel it - the strange, uncertain tension hovering quietly in the background of this ordinary morning. And none of them know yet that this fever is only the beginning.
___
You wake again sometime later, though the concept of time feels strange and slippery, like trying to hold water in your hands. The light in the room has shifted slightly, warmer and brighter than before, which means at least an hour or two must have passed.
Your body still feels heavy and warm, the fever sitting beneath your skin like a low burning fire, but the pounding in your head has softened enough that you can think a little more clearly.
The first thing you notice is the quiet clinking sound coming from the kitchen, followed by the soft murmur of voices drifting down the hallway. Taehyung’s voice rises occasionally in dramatic bursts while Jina shushes him, and somewhere in between you hear Jungkook’s lower tone responding patiently.
The smell of something warm and savory begins to creep into the bedroom - broth, garlic, maybe ginger - and it makes your stomach twist in a strange, uncomfortable way that you can’t quite explain. Hunger and nausea seem to exist at the same time inside you, confusing and unpleasant, and you press the back of your hand against your mouth for a moment while breathing slowly through your nose.
The bedroom door opens a few seconds later, Jungkook steps inside carrying a steaming bowl carefully balanced in both hands, and the moment he notices you’re awake his entire expression softens into something gentle and relieved. He moves toward the bed quietly, setting the bowl on the bedside table before sitting down beside you like he’s approaching a frightened animal. “Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey,” you mumble back, your voice still thick with sleep and illness.
“How are you feeling?”
You think about the question for a moment, scanning your body for an honest answer. Everything aches faintly, your throat is still a little sore, and the strange nausea twisting through your stomach hasn’t fully settled. “Like I got hit by a truck,” you admit.
Jungkook nods slowly. “That tracks.” He had expected the fever, but what he hadn’t expected was the way his chest tightens every time you move even slightly, as if your discomfort is something he can physically feel inside himself.
While you were sleeping, he made soup in the kitchen with Jina hovering nearby offering practical advice while Taehyung sat at the table dramatically googling symptoms and reading them aloud like a medical thriller narrator.
Jungkook tried to ignore him, but every once in a while one of the symptoms would sound vaguely accurate and he’d feel a flicker of worry ignite again in his chest. He knows it’s probably nothing serious. People get sick, people get fevers, stress alone can knock someone down for a few days. Still, when you sit up slowly in the bed now, Jungkook instinctively slides one arm behind your back to help support you. “Careful,” he murmurs.
“I’m not made of glass,” you say weakly.
“You’re currently made of fever and stubbornness.”
“That’s just my natural state.”
He smiles faintly at that, adjusting the pillow behind you before picking up the bowl again.“Soup,” he announces.
You look at it with suspicion, and the smell of it hits you immediately. At first it’s comforting - the warm scent of broth and vegetables, something simple and familiar - but then your stomach flips sharply in protest, and suddenly the smell feels overwhelming. You swallow hard, pressing your lips together as a wave of nausea rises unexpectedly in your chest.
Jungkook notices instantly, his eyebrows knit together as he watches your expression change. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” you say quickly.
“You just looked like the soup personally offended you.”
“I’m just not that hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Your stomach chooses that exact moment to twist again. You close your eyes briefly.
“Okay,” Jungkook says slowly, setting the bowl back down. “That’s not normal.”
“It’s just the fever.”
“You look nauseous.”
“I’m sick, Jungkook. Nausea is part of the job description.”
From the doorway, Taehyung leans in dramatically. “Have we considered alien parasites yet?”
“Taehyung,” Jina says flatly from the hallway.
“I’m brainstorming.”
Jungkook just ignores him completely. His focus is entirely on you, watching every tiny movement in your face like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. He reaches out carefully, brushing his fingers along your jaw before tilting your chin slightly upward so he can study your eyes. “You’re pale,” he murmurs.
“I’m literally burning up.”
“You’re pale and burning up.”
“That sounds impressive.”
“y/n.” Your name comes out softer this time, threaded with quiet worry.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. The room settles into a strange silence where the only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator down the hall and Taehyung whisper arguing with Jina about something in the kitchen. Then Jungkook sighs. “You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard lately,” he says quietly.
“That’s not new.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
You lean back against the pillows, exhaustion tugging at your body again. “You think I don’t know that?” you whisper.
You hate this conversation. Not because Jungkook is wrong - he isn’t - but because acknowledging it out loud makes everything feel heavier somehow.
The truth is that the last few months have been exhausting in ways that go deeper than physical tiredness. Your job keeps asking for more and more while offering nothing certain in return, your savings account never seems to grow fast enough, and every conversation about the future feels like standing at the edge of a foggy road where you can’t quite see what’s coming next.
Jungkook has his own worries too, you know that. The café where he works barely covers his expenses, and though he never complains openly, you’ve seen the tension in his shoulders when bills arrive or when his manager mentions cutting hours again.
The two of you keep trying to reassure each other that things will get better eventually, but sometimes “eventually” feels very far away.
You glance up at him now, noticing the faint dark circles under his eyes. “You should’ve gone to work,” you say quietly.
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
“You can’t keep missing shifts because of me.”
“Stop,” he says immediately, voice calm but firm. “First of all,” he says slowly, “I didn’t miss work because of you. I chose to stay home because my girlfriend is sick and clearly exhausted and probably would’ve tried to work herself into another fever if I wasn’t here.”
“I would not.”
“You absolutely would.”
“That’s speculation.”
“That’s experience.”
Taehyung’s voice floats in from the hallway. “He’s right, y/n, you need to listen.”
“Stay out of this,” you call weakly.
“I’m emotionally invested.”
Jina laughs quietly somewhere behind him, and Jungkook shakes his head but there’s a small smile tugging at his mouth now. Then he looks back at you, and the humor fades into something softer.
“You take care of everyone else all the time,” he says gently. “Let someone take care of you for once.”
His words settle somewhere deep in your chest. Before you can respond, another wave of nausea hits suddenly and unexpectedly, stronger than before. You clamp a hand over your mouth, leaning forward slightly as your stomach twists violently.
Jungkook reacts instantly. “Whoa - hey -” He’s beside you immediately, one arm around your shoulders while the other grabs the trash can from beside the desk and pulls it toward the bed. “Breathe,” he murmurs softly.
You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his voice and the steady warmth of his hand rubbing slow circles along your back. After a few tense seconds the nausea passes, and you sag back against him weakly. “That was…unpleasant.” you mumble.
Jungkook’s hand stills. “y/n.” he says slowly.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t usually get nauseous when you’re sick.”
You blink, for a moment neither of you says anything. Then Taehyung’s voice drifts in again from the hallway. “You know what else causes nausea?”
“Taehyung,” Jina says sharply.
But the word hangs quietly in the air anyway. Pregnancy.
For a few seconds after Taehyung’s comment, the entire apartment seems to fall into a strange kind of silence, the kind where no one wants to acknowledge what was just said but everyone heard it clearly.
You remain sitting on the edge of the bed, Jungkook’s arm still wrapped firmly around your shoulders while his other hand continues rubbing slow, grounding circles along your back. Your stomach has settled slightly, but the lingering nausea leaves a sour taste in your mouth and a foggy uneasiness in your mind.
The word hangs there -pregnancy- uninvited and almost ridiculous considering everything else happening in your life right now.
You and Jungkook barely have the time or stability to manage rent and groceries some months, let alone even imagine a child. The idea feels so far outside the realm of possibility that your brain almost rejects it instantly, pushing it away like an intrusive thought that doesn’t belong here.
Still, the quiet tension in the room makes your chest tighten slightly, and when you glance up at Jungkook you notice that he’s gone unusually still, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor like he’s trying very carefully not to react too quickly.
Taehyung clears his throat from the hallway.“Okay,” he says after a moment, his tone suddenly awkward in a way that’s rare for him. “That sounded a lot less dramatic in my head.”
“You think?” Jina mutters.
“I was trying to be helpful.”
“You are physically incapable of subtlety.”
Jungkook exhales slowly, he hadn’t meant to react. But the moment the word was spoken, his brain immediately began connecting pieces in a way he didn’t want it to. The nausea. The exhaustion you’ve been dealing with for weeks. The strange smell sensitivity when he cooked eggs two mornings ago and you complained the scent was “aggressively offensive.”
At the time he assumed it was stress, or maybe the beginning of the cold you’re dealing with now, but suddenly those memories rearrange themselves in his mind into a pattern he doesn’t fully understand yet, and the thought makes his chest tighten in a strange, unfamiliar way. Still, he refuses to jump to conclusions.
You’re already overwhelmed, the last thing you need right now is unnecessary panic about something that might not even be true. So Jungkook simply shifts slightly closer to you, tightening his arm around your shoulders in a quiet protective gesture before pressing a gentle kiss against your hair.
“Taehyung,” he says calmly, “maybe don’t play medical detective right now.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“You googled symptoms whilst eating our cereal.”
“That’s how modern medicine works.”
Jina sighs loudly from the hallway. “Taehyung, come help me in the kitchen before you diagnose someone with space rabies.”
“That’s a real concern.”
Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, you lean your head back against his chest, letting the steady warmth of his body anchor you while your thoughts try to settle. His arm remains wrapped securely around you, his fingers occasionally brushing lightly against your arm or your shoulder in those small unconscious touches that he always does when he’s worried. The intimacy of it feels grounding, even comforting, but the word from earlier keeps echoing faintly in your mind no matter how hard you try to ignore it.
Pregnant.
It feels impossible.
You and Jungkook have talked about the future before - late at night, lying in bed with the lights off while the city hums quietly outside the windows - but those conversations always felt distant and hypothetical. Kids were something that belonged in a version of your life where finances were stable, careers were settled, and neither of you were constantly calculating grocery budgets or worrying about rent increases.
That version of life doesn’t exist yet.
Your stomach flips again slightly, though this time the nausea is milder, more like a lingering uneasiness than a full wave.
Jungkook notices immediately. “You okay?” he murmurs softly.
“Yeah” you whisper.
“You sure?”
“Just…tired.”
He presses another soft kiss against your temple. “I know you are.” Jungkook gently guides you back down onto the bed a few minutes later, adjusting the pillows carefully until you’re lying comfortably against them while he pulls the blanket up to your chest again.
The caretaker instinct in him has fully taken over now, and every movement he makes is careful and attentive, like he’s trying to anticipate your needs before you even voice them. He grabs the bowl of soup again, stirring it lightly before holding it out toward you with patient determination.
“Try a few bites,” he says softly. “If it still makes you nauseous we’ll stop.”
You look at the bowl skeptically. “If I throw up again I’m blaming you.”
“That’s fair.” He lifts the spoon toward you, waiting patiently until you reluctantly open your mouth. The soup is warm and mild, the flavor gentle enough that your stomach doesn’t immediately protest this time. You swallow slowly, surprised that it actually feels somewhat comforting.
“Okay,” you admit quietly after a moment. “That’s…not terrible.”
Jungkook smiles faintly. “I’ll add that to my resume.”
“You burned ramen last week.”
“That was a structural failure of the pot.”
You manage a weak laugh, and the sound seems to visibly relax something in his shoulders. He feeds you another spoonful.
___
In the kitchen, Taehyung whispers loudly.
“Do you think they heard us?”
“Yes.” Jina whispers back.
“Do you think I ruined everything?”
“You didn’t ruin anything, but maybe don’t shout pregnancy theories across the apartment next time.”
“I said I was brainstorming.”
“You brainstorm like a thunderstorm.”
Taehyung sighs dramatically. “I’m just worried about them.”
Jina softens slightly. “I know.”
“They’ve been stressed for months.”
“I know.”
“And if something like that actually happened-”
“Then they’d figure it out.” she says gently.
Taehyung nods slowly.
___
Back in the bedroom, the soup bowl is half empty now. You feel a little better - still feverish, still exhausted, but the warmth in your stomach helps ease some of the dizziness that was lingering earlier.
Jungkook sets the bowl aside and wipes your mouth gently with a napkin like it’s the most natural thing in the world, the tenderness of the gesture making your chest ache in a soft, complicated way.
“You’re really going all out with the nurse routine.” you murmur.
“You deserve it, babe.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Not to me.”
Your eyes meet his, for a moment neither of you says anything, then you sigh quietly. “Jungkook.” you whisper.
“Yeah?”
“What if we never catch up?”
His eyebrows knit together slightly as he tries to figure out what you mean.
“With life” you clarify. “With everything we’re supposed to have figured out by now.”
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, then he reaches out and gently takes your hand. Jungkook squeezes your fingers softly, his thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles while he looks at you with that same steady expression he always has when conversations turn serious. “You know something?” he says quietly.
“What?”
“I don’t think anyone actually has it figured out.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“But it’s honest.”
You stare at him.
He leans forward slightly, resting his forehead gently against yours. “I know things feel messy right now,” he murmurs. “Money’s tight, work is stressful, the future feels like a giant question mark. But we’re still here, we’re still trying, and as long as we’re doing that together, I’m not really that scared.”
His words settle warmly in your chest, then he presses a soft lingering kiss against your lips. It’s gentle and slow, more comfort than passion, but it makes your entire body relax slightly. When he pulls away, his hand comes up to brush your hair behind your ear. “I’m here, I’m always here.” he whispers.
___
The quiet calm that settles over the bedroom after that kiss feels fragile in the best way, like a moment suspended gently between everything that has already gone wrong and everything that might still be uncertain ahead.
You’re still warm from the fever and heavy with exhaustion, but lying there with Jungkook so close makes the weight of it all easier to carry somehow. His hand hasn’t left yours since the conversation ended, and the small repetitive motion of his thumb tracing slow circles along your knuckles has become almost hypnotic, grounding you in a way that no amount of sleep or medicine has managed to do yet.
Your head is resting lightly against his shoulder now, the steady rise and fall of his breathing creating a quiet rhythm beneath your cheek that makes you feel strangely safe despite the dizziness that still lingers faintly at the edges of your senses. For a moment you allow yourself to exist in that softness without thinking about work emails, rent payments, or the uncomfortable word that was dropped into the room earlier like a stone into still water.
Jungkook shifts slightly beside you. “Come here,” he murmurs quietly, sliding one arm around your shoulders and gently guiding you closer until your body is tucked fully against his chest.
“I’m already here” you mumble.
“You’re halfway here.”
“That’s the best you’re getting.”
“No it isn’t.” Before you can protest further, he carefully lifts you, one arm under your knees and the other around your back in a slow, deliberate motion that makes you gasp softly in surprise.
“Jungkook!”
“You’re burning up and dizzy,” he says calmly as he stands. “The bed feels too stuffy, we’re relocating.”
___
Jungkook carries you out of the bedroom and into the living room with the same careful focus he might use when carrying something fragile and irreplaceable. You’re not particularly heavy, but he still moves slowly, mindful of the way your arms instinctively wrap around his neck for balance and the way your forehead presses weakly against his shoulder as another small wave of dizziness passes through you.
Taehyung and Jina look up from the kitchen table when he enters the room, and both of them immediately go quiet when they see the way Jungkook is holding you. “Whoa,” Taehyung says softly. “Emergency princess transport.”
“Shut up,” Jungkook mutters.
Jina stands quickly, pushing the coffee mugs aside. “Is she okay?”
“She’s just really dizzy,” Jungkook replies.
You lift your head slightly. “I’m literally right here, you know.”
“Yes,” Taehyung says solemnly. “But you look like someone who might pass out at any moment.”
“That’s very reassuring.”
Jungkook gently lowers himself onto the couch, settling you carefully against his chest again before pulling a blanket from the armrest and draping it over your legs with quiet precision.“There,” he murmurs.
You sink into the couch cushions with a quiet sigh, letting your head rest against Jungkook’s shoulder while his arm stays wrapped securely around you. The living room feels cooler than the bedroom, and the faint breeze from the slightly open window brushes softly against your overheated skin in a way that feels immediately relieving.
Jungkook’s hand moves up to your hair again, absentmindedly brushing gentle strokes through it while his other arm stays firmly around your waist as if he’s making absolutely sure you don’t slide off the couch or drift away somehow.
“You’re doing a lot,” you mumble weakly.
“I’m just doing the bare minimum.”
“The bare minimum does not include carrying someone across the apartment like a Victorian husband.”
“I would absolutely be a Victorian husband.”
“You’d get into duels.”
“For honor.”
“You’d duel the landlord.”
“Honestly that’s still an option.”
Taehyung snorts loudly from the table. “I would pay money to watch Jungkook challenge someone to a duel over rent prices.”
Jina just rolls her eyes. “Please don’t encourage him.”
Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he focuses on the subtle details of how you’re feeling in his arms. Your skin still feels warmer than normal, though the fever seems slightly lower now, and every few minutes he notices you shifting uncomfortably like your body still hasn’t fully decided whether it wants to sleep or stay awake.
When you suddenly wrinkle your nose and press your face deeper into his shoulder, Jungkook glances down in confusion. “What?” he asks softly.
“Does something smell weird in here?” you mumble.
Taehyung looks around the room. “It smells like soup.”
“No,” you say, frowning slightly. “Something else.”
Jina lifts her sleeve cautiously and sniffs it.“It’s not me.”
Jungkook smells the air too, confused. “It just smells normal.”
You groan quietly, pressing your forehead against his chest. “Everything smells too strong.”
Taehyung’s eyes flick briefly toward Jina, she notices, but neither of them says anything.
___
A few minutes later, the dizziness returns suddenly. You’re in the middle of responding to something Taehyung said when the room shifts sharply around you, the edges of your vision blurring for a moment as a heavy wave of lightheadedness rolls through your body.
Your hand grips the front of his shirt weakly as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
The room moves very quickly then. Jina stands, Taehyung pushes his chair back. Jungkook tightens his arms around you, pulling you fully against his chest while lowering his voice into the calm, steady tone he uses when he’s trying not to panic. “Okay,” he murmurs gently. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
Your head drops against his shoulder, Jungkook presses a soft kiss against your hair once he feels your breathing stabilize. “You scared me,” he whispers quietly.
“I’m okay,” you mumble weakly.
“You almost fainted.”
“I didn’t faint.”
“You almost fainted.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s really not.” Taehyung interjects, he leans back slightly to look at you properly, his brows furrowed in concern. “y/n…when was your last proper meal?”
You blink slowly. “…lunch…yesterday..?”
Taehyung stares. “That’s illegal.”
“I had coffee.”
“That’s not food,” Jina says gently.
Jungkook just sighs, pulling you closer again, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rests protectively across your stomach without him even realizing it. His thumb begins tracing slow soothing patterns against your side while he presses another lingering kiss to your forehead. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs. “And dramatic.” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re exhausted and dramatic.”
“That’s my brand.”
His lips brush lightly across your temple again, then your cheek. “You need rest,” he whispers. “And maybe…not ignoring your health for two moments straight.”
All you can do is groan quietly.
Yet the thought of you possibly being pregnant has been quietly forming in the back of Jungkook’s mind all morning. Now, it returns again, stronger this time, and he instinctively tightens his arm around you slightly. Not in panic, just awareness, and the strange feeling that something bigger than a simple fever might be unfolding slowly inside this small apartment.
___
The afternoon slowly melts into evening without anyone really noticing when it happens. The light through the living room windows shifts gradually from bright gold to soft amber, stretching long shadows across the apartment floor while the quiet hum of the city outside begins to settle into the slower rhythm of nighttime.
You’ve barely moved from the couch since Jungkook carried you there earlier, though the position has changed several times throughout the day as your body alternates between restless discomfort and heavy exhaustion.
Right now, you’re curled almost entirely in Jungkook’s lap, one arm loosely wrapped around his waist while your head rests beneath his chin, your cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt. The blanket still covers both of you, tangled around your legs and tucked carefully around your shoulders because Jungkook keeps adjusting it every time he thinks you might be getting cold.
His hand moves slowly through your hair in the same soothing motion he’s been repeating for hours, his fingers occasionally pausing to brush your forehead or trace gentle circles along your temple whenever your breathing changes slightly.
The quiet intimacy of it feels almost surreal, like the world outside the apartment has paused for a moment to let you both exist in this fragile bubble where nothing matters except the steady warmth of his arms and the quiet reassurance of his presence.
Jungkook hasn’t stopped watching you, even when you’re asleep, even when you’re quiet.
Every time your breathing shifts or your body moves even slightly, his attention snaps back to you with that same focused concern that has been sitting quietly behind his eyes all day. From the kitchen table, Taehyung has been observing the scene for hours with the fascinated curiosity of someone watching a nature documentary.
“You know,” he whispers to Jina, “if someone walked in right now they would assume Jungkook is guarding the last surviving panda on Earth.”
Jina glances toward the couch. “That’s not entirely inaccurate.”
Taehyung leans back in his chair thoughtfully. “He hasn’t moved in like three hours.”
“He doesn’t want to wake her.”
“That’s adorable.”
___
Jungkook hears every word they say, he just doesn’t respond.
His attention stays fixed on you as you sleep quietly against him, your face softened by exhaustion in a way that makes something protective twist deep in his chest. He keeps replaying the events of the day in his mind - your dizziness, the nausea, the way certain smells suddenly seem overwhelming to you for no clear reason.
On their own, none of those things would seem particularly unusual. People get sick, bodies react strangely sometimes, but stacked together like this, the pattern has started to form something he can’t quite ignore anymore. And the truth is…the possibility scares him. Not because the idea itself is bad, but because the timing feels impossibly complicated, you’re both barely holding your lives together right now. Money is tight, work is unstable. The future already feels uncertain enough without adding something as huge and life altering as a child into the equation.
Jungkook glances down at you again. His fingers gently brush your cheek, and despite everything, the thought doesn’t fill him with dread. It fills him with fierce, quiet determination.
___
You wake slowly again sometime later, though this time the first sensation you notice is the dull churning discomfort in your stomach. Your eyes open halfway before the nausea hits fully, rising quickly from deep in your chest in a way that makes your breath hitch slightly. Instinctively, you shift upward in Jungkook’s arms, pressing a hand against your mouth while the room spins faintly around you again.
Jungkook reacts immediately. “Hey-” His arm tightens around you as he sits up straighter. “What’s wrong?”
You shake your head weakly. “I feel…really sick.”
Jina is already moving toward the couch.“Bathroom?” she asks gently.
You nod quickly, Jungkook stands instantly, supporting most of your weight as he guides you carefully toward the hallway.
Taehyung scrambles to move chairs out of the way. “Emergency path!” he announces.
“Taehyung,” Jina mutters.
“I’m assisting!”
___
A few minutes later, you’re back on the couch, looking pale and exhausted but slightly less nauseous now that the worst of the wave has passed. Jungkook sits beside you again, though this time he’s positioned slightly closer, one arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders while the other holds a glass of water that he keeps gently offering every few minutes. “Small sips,” he murmurs softly.
You take one reluctantly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I still will.”
“You’re stubborn even when you’re sick.”
“That’s just my personality.”
He smiles faintly, but the worry in his eyes hasn’t faded.
Across the room, Jina quietly gestures for Jungkook to follow her into the kitchen. He hesitates for a moment, glancing down at you. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs softly.
You nod weakly.
In the kitchen, Taehyung immediately senses the serious tone and pretends to become extremely interested in the refrigerator so he can listen without looking obvious.
Jina lowers her voice. “Jungkook,” she says gently.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions…but have you considered the possibility that Taehyung might actually be right about something for once?”
Jungkook exhales slowly. “I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to scare her by bringing it up if it’s just a coincidence.”
Jina nods thoughtfully. “That’s fair.”
“But if it’s not a coincidence…” Jungkook murmurs quietly, his voice trailing off.
___
Back in the living room, you’re staring quietly at the ceiling while the distant murmur of their conversation drifts faintly through the apartment. Your body still feels heavy and strange, like something inside you is slightly off-balance in a way you can’t quite explain. The nausea earlier felt too sudden. Too intense. And the strange sensitivity to smells has been getting worse for days now if you’re being honest with yourself.
Your hand drifts unconsciously toward your stomach, the thought appears again.
Pregnant.
Your chest tightens immediately, that can’t be right, your life is nowhere near stable enough for something like that yet. You and Jungkook are still trying to figure out basic things like long-term jobs and whether you’ll even stay in this apartment next year. The idea feels terrifying, but also strangely real.
___
Jungkook returns a minute later. The moment he sits down beside you again, you instinctively lean toward him without thinking, your head settling automatically against his shoulder while his arm wraps around you once more. “You okay?” he murmurs softly.
You hesitate. “…kook?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something kind of scary?”
His arm tightens slightly around you. “Anything.”
You swallow slowly. “Earlier…when Taehyung said that thing…”
For a moment, he doesn’t answer, but his hand finds yours slowly, and the quiet tension in the room seems to grow heavier.
___
Later, you wake slowly again, not because the fever has broken but because your body refuses to stay asleep anymore, like it’s trapped in that strange space between exhaustion and discomfort where rest never quite reaches you. The apartment is quieter now than it was earlier, the kind of quiet that settles after people have been talking for a long time and the air has grown tired along with them.
Your head feels heavy against the pillow, your thoughts moving slower than usual, like they’re wading through thick water just to reach the surface. For a moment you simply lie there and listen to the distant hum of the refrigerator, the faint creak of pipes in the walls, the soft clinking of dishes somewhere in the kitchen.
It takes a few seconds before your mind connects the sound to Jungkook, and even in your feverish haze something warm and aching spreads quietly through your chest. Because even when you insisted he didn’t need to take care of you, even when you tried to pretend this was nothing more than a stupid cold, he stayed anyway, he always does.
You shift slightly beneath the blankets and instantly regret it, your stomach twisting with a strange wave of nausea that rolls through you so suddenly it steals the air from your lungs. You squeeze your eyes shut, breathing carefully through your nose as you wait for it to pass, but the feeling lingers longer than you expect, uncomfortable and unfamiliar, settling uneasily beneath your ribs like something trying to warn you that your body is not behaving the way it normally does.
In the kitchen, Jungkook is staring at a pot of soup like it personally offended him. He has already reheated it twice because he keeps getting distracted halfway through, his thoughts circling back to the same uneasy observations that have been bothering him since this morning.
At first it was easy to believe you were just sick - the fever, the exhaustion, the way your voice sounded scratchy and small when you tried to argue with him about staying home from work. But the more he watches you, the more something feels slightly wrong in a way he can’t quite explain. You’re pale, but your cheeks are flushed. You say your stomach hurts but you barely touched the soup earlier. You look tired enough to sleep for three days but your body keeps waking you up again.
Jungkook rests his hands on the kitchen counter and exhales slowly, trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling into worry that might not mean anything. People get weird symptoms when they’re sick all the time. Stress does strange things to the body, and God knows both of you have had more stress than usual lately.
Between his long hours at the studio trying to keep freelance clients happy and your job pushing you toward responsibilities you never even asked for, life has started to feel like a long list of problems you’re both trying to survive together instead of something you’re actually living. Still, when he hears the soft creak of the bedroom door opening, Jungkook turns immediately, the momentary tension in his shoulders replaced by instinctive concern as he steps into the hallway.
You barely make it halfway down the hall before he’s there. Your hand is pressed weakly against the wall, your balance wavering just enough to make his heart jump into his throat the moment he sees you. Jungkook reaches you in two quick steps, one arm wrapping around your waist automatically while his other hand steadies your shoulder, his touch firm but careful like he’s afraid you might fall apart if he holds you too tightly.
Up close, he can see the faint crease between your brows, the way your breathing is slightly uneven, and something protective flickers across his face before he even realizes it’s there. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs quietly, guiding you to lean against him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“What are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be resting.” His voice isn’t scolding exactly, but there’s that familiar softness underneath it - the tone he always uses when he’s trying to take care of you without making it sound like he’s taking control.
You try to answer, but the nausea hits again before the words come out, and suddenly your fingers tighten against the front of his shirt as your stomach twists violently enough to make your knees feel weak. Jungkook’s expression changes instantly. “Okay,” he says quickly, already guiding you toward the bathroom without another question. “Okay, it’s okay. Just breathe.”
The bathroom floor is cold beneath your knees when Jungkook helps you kneel beside the toilet, and you hate the embarrassment that burns across your face almost as much as the nausea itself. Being sick is one thing, but being this helpless in front of him is another.
Your hair falls forward as you lean over the porcelain, and before you can even reach to push it away Jungkook is already behind you, gathering it gently into his hand to keep it out of the way. The gesture is so instinctive it almost hurts your chest.
He doesn’t rush you or fill the silence with unnecessary words while your body fights through the nausea. He simply stays there, one hand holding your hair, the other rubbing slow circles against your back with quiet patience as if this moment - this messy, uncomfortable, humiliating moment - is just another way of loving you.
When it finally passes, leaving you shaky and exhausted, you slump slightly against him without thinking, your forehead resting weakly against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whisper hoarsely, your voice barely more than breath.
Jungkook frowns immediately. “Why are you apologizing?” His voice is softer now, almost incredulous as he reaches for a damp towel and presses it gently against the back of your neck. “You’re sick, not committing a crime.” He crouches beside you instead of standing, making sure he’s at your level as he studies your face with quiet concern.
He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lips tremble slightly like you’re trying not to cry even though you’re probably too tired to fully understand why. Jungkook brushes his thumb lightly across your cheek without thinking, the touch so tender it almost startles both of you. “Come on,” he murmurs after a moment. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
The walk back to the bedroom is slower this time. You lean heavily into him, one arm looped loosely around his waist while his hand stays secure at the small of your back, guiding you with the careful patience of someone who has already decided he will take care of you no matter how long it takes.
When you reach the bed he helps you settle beneath the blankets again, adjusting the pillows behind your head until you’re comfortable before sitting beside you with that same quiet attentiveness he’s had all day. For a few minutes neither of you speak, your fingers drift lazily toward the hem of his sleeve, holding onto the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored to reality. Jungkook lets you, of course. He always does.
“You’ve been throwing up a lot,” he says eventually, his voice thoughtful but gentle.
You grimace weakly. “That’s…usually what happens when people are sick.”
“I know,” he replies quietly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s just…weird.”
You blink at him slowly. “Weird how?”
Jungkook hesitates, searching for words he isn’t sure he should say out loud yet. Because the truth is he doesn’t know what’s wrong. Maybe it really is just a bad virus, maybe stress has finally caught up to both of you in ways your bodies can’t ignore anymore, but the strange feeling in the back of his mind refuses to disappear, growing stronger every time he watches you struggle with symptoms that don’t quite fit together the way they should.
“…I don’t know,” he admits finally.
You study his face, noticing the faint crease between his brows, the quiet worry he’s trying very hard not to show, and suddenly your own chest tightens with something deeper than sickness. Because you know that look, it’s the look Jungkook gets when life is about to throw something complicated at both of you, and neither of you are ready for it yet.
___
You don’t remember falling asleep again, but the next time you wake it’s darker outside, the soft grey evening light slipping through the curtains and painting quiet shadows across the walls of the bedroom. Your body feels strange in a way that doesn’t quite match the kind of sickness you’re used to.
The feverish heat from earlier has faded into something else now - a heavy exhaustion that sits deep in your muscles like gravity has doubled overnight. Even lifting your arm feels like it takes effort. Your stomach still aches faintly, not sharp but unsettled, the kind of discomfort that lingers in waves instead of constant pain.
For a moment, you simply lie there and breathe, staring at the ceiling while your mind tries to gather itself. Normally when you’re sick you either sleep endlessly or feel restless and miserable, but this feels different. Your body is tired in a deeper way, like it’s been quietly working overtime on something you can’t see.
A strange sensitivity prickles at your nose suddenly, and when the faint smell of garlic drifts into the room from the kitchen your stomach flips unpleasantly. You swallow hard, pressing your palm against your mouth as a new wave of nausea threatens to rise. It’s not as violent as earlier, but it’s persistent, creeping slowly upward like it’s testing your limits. “Seriously?” you mutter weakly to the empty room, dragging the blanket over your face as if that might block the smell somehow.
In the living room, Jungkook is trying very hard not to look like he’s worrying again, Taehyung and Jina arrived about twenty minutes ago after Jungkook reluctantly admitted that he might need help if this turned into a full-night situation.
Taehyung is leaning against the kitchen counter now with his arms crossed loosely, watching Jungkook stir a bowl of plain rice with the focused seriousness of someone preparing a five-star meal instead of the simplest comfort food imaginable.
Jina is sitting at the table with her chin resting in her palm, observing the entire situation with the kind of quiet attentiveness that usually means she’s thinking harder than she’s letting on. “You know,” Taehyung says eventually, tilting his head slightly as he watches his friend move around the kitchen like a nervous parent, “most people who get the flu don’t have their boyfriend monitoring their breathing every five minutes.”
Jungkook doesn’t even look up. “She wasn’t breathing weird,” he mutters defensively. “She just…sounded uncomfortable.” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “You checked twice while she was asleep.” Jungkook finally glances over, his expression both tired and stubborn. “I was making sure she wasn’t getting worse.”
Jina studies him for another moment before speaking, her voice softer but thoughtful. “Did she say anything about a headache or sore throat earlier?” Jungkook pauses slightly, the spoon in his hand hovering above the bowl as he tries to remember. “Not really,” he admits slowly. “Mostly nausea. And dizziness. She said she felt hot earlier but the fever didn’t stay high.”
Taehyung shifts his weight against the counter. “That’s kind of weird for a cold.” Jungkook exhales quietly through his nose, his shoulders tightening just slightly like he doesn’t want to acknowledge the same thought that has been creeping into his mind all afternoon. “People get stomach viruses,” he replies, though his voice lacks conviction.
Jina doesn’t respond immediately. Instead she glances toward the hallway leading to your bedroom, her brows pulling together faintly in that thoughtful way she gets when she’s trying to piece together something that doesn’t quite make sense yet.
Back in the bedroom, the smell from the kitchen grows stronger when someone opens the microwave, and your stomach reacts instantly. You sit up too quickly, your hand flying to your mouth as nausea rolls through you again with uncomfortable persistence. It’s not violent this time, but it’s strong enough to make your eyes water as you push yourself out of bed, your legs wobbling slightly beneath you as you hurry toward the bathroom.
The hallway feels longer than usual, and halfway there the dizziness hits you again- a sudden rush of lightheadedness that forces you to steady yourself against the wall. Your breathing becomes shallow for a moment while the room tilts unpleasantly around you. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself weakly. “That’s new.”
You manage to reach the bathroom just as footsteps approach from the living room, and seconds later Jungkook appears in the doorway, his expression shifting instantly from mild distraction to alarm when he sees you gripping the sink like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.
“Hey - hey, slow down,” he says quickly, crossing the room in two steps as he steadies you with both hands on your arms. His voice softens immediately when he sees the exhaustion in your face. “What happened? Did the nausea come back?” You nod weakly, leaning slightly into him without even thinking about it, your forehead pressing briefly against his shoulder as your stomach twists again.
Jungkook’s entire posture changes the moment you lean on him. One hand slides carefully around your back while the other moves to the base of your neck, his thumb brushing slowly against your skin in a quiet, grounding motion that he knows usually helps you calm down. “It’s okay,” he murmurs gently, the words low and reassuring near your ear. “You’re okay. Just breathe for a second.” The closeness of him, the steady warmth of his body, the calm rhythm of his breathing - it all wraps around you like something safe, something solid in the middle of the strange storm happening inside your body.
Taehyung appears in the doorway a moment later, his usual playful expression replaced with mild concern when he sees the two of you standing there. “Whoa,” he says quietly, raising his hands slightly. “Bathroom emergency?” Jungkook gives him a look that clearly says not helping.
Jina steps past Taehyung a second later, her gaze moving carefully over your face in a way that feels almost clinical despite her gentle expression. “Are you dizzy too?” she asks softly. You nod again, embarrassed by how weak your voice sounds when you answer. “A little.” Jina hums quietly to herself, crossing her arms loosely as she leans against the doorway.
For a moment, the four of you stand there in a strange silence. Then Jina glances slowly toward Jungkook, then back toward you, and something thoughtful flickers behind her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything yet, not out loud.
___
The apartment grows quieter after Taehyung and Jina leave, the kind of quiet that feels heavier than normal silence, like the walls themselves are aware that something important is shifting between the two of you even if neither of you has the words for it yet.
The front door closes softly behind them with a muted click, their voices fading down the hallway of the building until they disappear completely, and suddenly it’s just you and Jungkook again in the dim warmth of the apartment.
You’re sitting on the couch wrapped in two blankets because your body can’t seem to decide whether it’s hot or cold, your head resting weakly against the armrest while Jungkook stands in the kitchen pretending to wash dishes that were already clean fifteen minutes ago.
He keeps glancing toward you every few seconds like he’s checking to make sure you’re still there, still breathing, still okay, and there’s something about that quiet, constant attention that makes your chest ache with a strange mixture of comfort and guilt. Because he looks so worried, and you hate being the reason for that worried crease between his brows.
Your stomach churns again, a slow rolling nausea that has been coming and going all evening, and the smell of dish soap drifting from the sink suddenly feels overwhelming enough to make your throat tighten. You close your eyes for a moment, pressing your palm gently against your abdomen as you breathe carefully through your nose, hoping the wave will pass without sending you running back to the bathroom again.
Jungkook notices the change in your breathing almost immediately, he always does. The moment your shoulders tense slightly beneath the blanket his head turns toward you, his hands abandoning the sink before he even realizes he’s moving. In two quiet steps he’s beside the couch, crouching in front of you with the same soft urgency he’s carried all day, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee through the blanket. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentle but alert as his dark eyes search your face for signs of distress. “Is it the nausea again?” You nod slowly, your voice tired when you answer. “Yeah…it just keeps coming back.”
Jungkook exhales quietly, running one hand through his hair in a small gesture of frustration that he tries to hide from you but doesn’t quite succeed. “You haven’t eaten anything except crackers,” he says softly, more to himself than to you. “Your body probably needs actual food.” You give him a weak half-smile. “My body currently thinks crackers are the enemy too.”
The corner of his mouth twitches despite his worry, and he reaches forward to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek for a moment longer than necessary. The touch is warm, grounding, the kind that says I’m here without needing to speak the words aloud.
The nausea eventually fades again, leaving behind a deep exhaustion that sinks into your bones like heavy sand. Jungkook notices the way your eyelids droop and shifts closer on the couch, carefully pulling you into his arms so you’re leaning against his chest instead of the armrest.
The movement is slow and deliberate, giving you time to adjust, but once you settle there he wraps the blanket more securely around your shoulders and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. It’s not a dramatic gesture. It’s quiet, familiar, the kind of affection that has grown naturally between the two of you over years of learning each other’s habits and fears and softest vulnerabilities.
“You’re really warm again,” he murmurs against your hair, his hand moving automatically to rest against the back of your neck where your skin is flushed. “But it’s not like a fever…it’s weird.” You hum faintly in response, too tired to argue with his observations anymore. Your fingers curl loosely into the fabric of his shirt as you rest there, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. For a few peaceful minutes neither of you speak, the quiet stretching comfortably between you like something shared.
But Jungkook’s mind doesn’t stay quiet for long, because the longer he sits there thinking about the day, the stranger the puzzle pieces start to feel when he tries to put them together. The nausea, the dizziness, the way you reacted to smells. The exhaustion that doesn’t quite match a normal illness. His brows slowly pull together as the thought forms in the back of his mind - unwelcome, confusing, impossible.
He doesn’t say it immediately. Instead he watches you carefully, his thumb tracing slow circles against your arm as if the gentle motion might somehow calm the sudden nervous energy building in his chest. “Can I ask you something?” he says eventually, his voice quieter than before.
You tilt your head slightly against him, blinking sleepily. “Yeah?”
Jungkook hesitates, then he asks the question that has been creeping into his thoughts for the last hour. “When was your last period?”
For a moment, the apartment feels completely still. You stare up at him, your tired brain struggling to process the words. “…what?”
His expression is cautious now, like he’s stepping carefully across thin ice. “I’m just asking,” he says softly. “Because some of your symptoms today are kind of…specific.”
Your stomach flips again - but this time the nausea has nothing to do with sickness. You start to think back, back through the last few weeks. The stress at work, the exhaustion, the way your cycle slipped quietly past without you noticing because everything else in your life has been so overwhelming lately.
Your face slowly drains of color. “…oh my god,” you whisper.
Jungkook’s heart drops into his stomach. “You missed it?” he asks carefully.
Your hands begin to tremble slightly in your lap. “i-i think so.” The words hang in the air between you like something fragile and terrifying at the same time, and neither of you speak for several long seconds.
Then Jungkook exhales slowly, running both hands over his face as his mind races through possibilities he never expected to consider tonight. “Okay,” he says quietly, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts behind it. “Okay. That doesn’t automatically mean anything. Stress can delay things, illness can too.” But even as he says the words, the pieces keep fitting together in ways that make his chest feel tight: the nausea, the smell sensitivity, the sudden exhaustion, the dizziness.
You look up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “should we…test?”
Jungkook swallows hard. “…yeah, yeah…I think we need to.” he says softly.
___
The walk to the pharmacy down the street feels surreal. The cool evening air brushes against your face while Jungkook keeps a steady hand at the small of your back, guiding you carefully like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. Neither of you talk much during the walk, but the silence between you is thick with thoughts that neither of you know how to say out loud yet. You’re both thinking the same thing. We’re not ready. Not with the chaos in your careers, the bills, the tiny apartment, the plans you haven’t even started chasing yet.
Parenthood belongs to some distant future version of yourselves - not the two exhausted people standing under a flickering pharmacy light at nine o’clock at night.
Inside the apartment again, the small white pregnancy test sits on the bathroom counter like the most intimidating object you’ve ever seen. Jungkook stands beside you, his hand wrapped tightly around yours.
“You don’t have to look if you don’t want to,” he murmurs gently.
You shake your head slowly. “No…we should.”
The waiting feels endless, three minutes stretch into something that feels like half a lifetime. Jungkook keeps his arm around your shoulders the entire time, his thumb moving slowly against your arm in silent reassurance while your heart pounds hard enough to make your ears ring.
Then, finally, you both look down.
Two lines. Clear. Undeniable. Pregnant.
For a moment neither of you move, neither of you breathe, your chest tightens suddenly as reality crashes over you all at once, your eyes filling with tears before you even realize you’re crying. “kook,” you whisper shakily, your voice breaking on his name.
Jungkook stares at the test like the world just shifted beneath his feet. Then he looks at you, really looks. At your trembling hands, your tearful eyes, the fear written across your face, and suddenly none of the panic in his chest matters as much as the person standing in front of him.
He pulls you into his arms immediately, holding you tightly against his chest as his hand moves gently through your hair. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “baby, hey…it’s okay.”
Your voice shakes against his shirt. “We’re not ready for this.”
“I know.”
“We barely have our lives together.”
“I know.”
“What are we going to do?”
Jungkook pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands, his forehead resting gently against yours as he searches your eyes with a tenderness so deep it almost hurts to look at. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly.
His words aren’t confident or perfect, but they’re honest, and they’re full of love.
Outside the bathroom window the city hums quietly, completely unaware that inside a small apartment two overwhelmed people are standing at the edge of a life neither of them planned for yet. But as Jungkook presses another soft kiss to your forehead and pulls you back into his arms, one thing becomes clear even through the fear and uncertainty.
in which…Jungkook has loved you since university, building his life around you. When a frustrating night leaves you quiet over a creative block, he worries he’s done something wrong and tries everything; bad jokes, affection, and silly drawings to make you smile again. In the end, he realizes that sometimes simply holding you close is enough.
Pairing: datascientist!jungkook x fem!reader
genre: fluff | established relationship | slice of life | romance |
warnings: none really | this is just a fluff- maybe a tiny bit of angst | neck + shoulder kisses | kissing | initiation of sex |
word count: 2.6k
a/n: helloooo everyone thank you so much for all the likes on my latest posts, I’m still super shocked! This is just a short drabble for now as I’m planning to release the first chapter of a bigger series in a couple of days- hopefully- requests are always open! I know it’s small but I hope you guys enjoy this ❤️ also the thought of Jungkook coding is really hot to me 🥵
___
It had all started with a syntax error.
Him, in the library, you were a first year graphic design major, all sharp lines and distracted focus, and he was a computer science sophomore who walked directly into a chair trying to get a better look at you.
Jungkook didn't believe in love at first sight, he believed in logic, but you had compiled in his mind, flawless and devastating, and all his logic returned a single, inescapable output: Mine.
He spent six months orbiting. ‘Accidentally’ at the coffee shop you and your friends were always sat in, your favorite study bench, the late night noodle stand. He learned your schedule better than his own, he memorised the way you frowned when a design wasn't working, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were thinking.
When you finally sighed and said, "Are you going to ask me out or just keep orbiting?", he took you to the cheapest, best noodle shop in Hongdae and talked for four hours straight. About everything, about nothing, about how the way you held your chopsticks was art.
On your one year anniversary, he put your name over his heart. It wasn't a question, it was a declaration, a permanent commitment. You moved in after graduation. Jungkook got the job, you built your brand, and he built a life where your happiness was his primary function.
That was five years ago, and now, the code is still running.
---
Present Day: Han River Apartment, 8:47 PM
The apartment is quiet, bathed in the cool blue glow of the han river at night. The only sounds are the hum of the fridge and the soft, frantic clatter of his mechanical keyboard.
Jungkook is perched on the couch, laptop open, a complex backend problem on his screen. He had already solved it an hour ago. Since then, he’s just been…refining, because you’re in the armchair across the room, sketching on your tablet, and he’s stuck in a loop.
He’s cataloged everything.
‘7:32 PM: You sighed after reading a client email: Negative, suggests client stress.’
‘7:45 PM: You got up and made tea, didn’t offer him any: Neutral, you were too focused.’
‘8:15 PM: You glanced at him over the top of your tablet, your expression unreadable: Data inconclusive. Could be annoyance, could be idle observation. His system flagged it for review.’
___
It’s now been 32 minutes of silence.
His chest feels tight. The tattoo over his heart: your name in clean, minimalist ink, seems to pulse with a low grade anxiety. Is it him? Did he do something? Was it the joke he made at dinner? Did it not land? He’s replayed it seventeen times, it was fine. Wasn’t it?
Jungkook can’t focus, the lines of code on his laptop blur. He watches your hand move the stylus, graceful and sure.
You’re in your own world, a world he’s spent five years trying to get a permanent access pass to.
He can’t take the silent compile error anymore. He needs a response, a single byte of feedback to tell him he hasn’t crashed your system.
Jungkook closes his laptop softly, the click seems deafening, and you don’t look up. He stands, pads across the plush rug, and sinks to his knees beside your armchair. He rests his chin on the armrest, looking up at you, his dark eyes wide, soft, and full of five years of utterly pathetic devotion. His lip rings glint in the low light.
You finally glance down at him, but your expression doesn’t change.
Jungkook’s voice is a low, hesitant rumble in the quiet room, fragile with hope and fear. “Hey…are you mad at me, baby?”
A scoff escapes you. “Hey yourself.” Your voice is dull and brusque. “I figured it would be around this time that you start to ask stupid questions.”
His heart stutters in his chest, your voice is flat and irritated. Is there anger under it? Disinterest?Jungkook can’t tell, it’s like trying to read a faulty piece of code, he frowns.
He wants to ask what he did, wants to run diagnostics and identify what the problem is, but he doesn’t. Instead, he swallows the lump in his throat.
“I...just wanted to check on you.” His eyes then roam your face. He can read the lines of your sketches in his sleep, but your expression is as indecipherable as ever.
You finally look him in the eyes with your tired eyes and furrowed eyebrows, and you instantly feel bad, because nothing is really his fault.
Jungkook’s expression crumples like paper when you look at him. You look tired, you look unhappy, and all he wants to do is fix it, but he doesn't know how, doesn’t even know what’s wrong.
His gaze flicks over your face, you have a tiny smudge of pencil lead on your cheek. Without thinking, his hand moves, thumb brushing across your cheek to erase it. His touch is feather light and reverent.
You turn your head and plant a small kiss to his thumb. “I’m sorry.” You murmur.
His breath hitches in his chest as your soft lips press against his skin. For a half second, the anxiety in his eyes is replaced by overwhelming relief. Jungkook’s hand cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He can feel your tension, the stress that's written across your features.
He leans forward, resting his head against your knee, like an oversized puppy seeking comfort. His voice is low and soft, a gentle plea. "Don't apologize." His eyes find yours, searching. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"
You just sigh, shaking your head and looking back at your tablet. “My sketches aren’t working, nothing is working today…”
A sharp inhale. Your sketches. The things that never fail to make you light up, the parts of your life he's watched bloom with quiet pride for five years- they’re not working?
Jungkook’s chest tightens like a fist around his ribs. He sits up just enough to press his forehead against your knee, breathing in deep through his nose. His hands slide from your cheek down to grip yours loosely, warm palms cradling your cold fingers.
"Do you want me to...?" He swallows hard. "I can get coffee? or- or call Jina and have her drag you out for those awful bubble teas you like." A weak joke, his voice fraying at the edges because he hates this, hates seeing frustration twist between your brows when usually it’s him doing something wrong and now there’s not one solution in sight.
He tugs gently at your hand, urging you to slide off the armchair and join him on the floor. Jungkook guides you to rest against his chest, his muscular arms wrapping around you, as if trying to physically hold your discontent together.
"Or I could just..." His thumb traces slow circles over yours as if manually rewiring calm into both of them through touch alone: "Keep holding on to you until something sticks?”
You hum, grateful for the distraction, and tighten your grip on his hand. Your touch skates over his silver rings, tracing the cool metal with a gentleness that makes him shiver.
He tightens his arms around you, burying his face into your shoulder, breathing in the soft familiarity of your skin. Jungkook’s heart beats an irregular rhythm beneath your touch, echoing the anxiety in his chest.
He feels utterly useless, not a single line of code can fix a failed sketch. He can't debug a faulty concept or correct a misplaced stroke of your stylus. He just continues to hold on, clinging like he can shield you from disappointment with sheer stubbornness.
___
Time starts to fade away, the soft sounds of the han river fade into the steady, slow inhale and exhale of Jungkook’s breathing. His arms tighten involuntarily around you, as if his body is trying to pull you even closer, mold you to the shape of his chest where your heartbeat can match his.
He nuzzles closer to your neck, the cold metal of his lip rings brush over your skin. When he finally speaks again, his voice is barely more than a whisper, breath ghosting over your shoulder.
"Can I ask something kinda stupid?"
You just frown and shake your head, knowing he’s probably going to try and better your mood with some stupid joke. “Maybe now is not the time, kook.”
Jungkook’s body tenses fractionally around you. You're right, he knows you're right. This is probably the worst time, and he's being a clingy, pathetic mess, but his brain is stuck on a single thought: You're slipping away and he can't find the root.
He swallows hard, a beat of hesitation stretches into silence before he speaks again, voice muffled against your shoulder. "Please, baby…" His arms tighten. "Please let me ask. Just...humour me for a minute."
You exhale then nod, torn between just wanting him to go away, but not wanting to hurt his feelings. Jungkook then starts talking, repeating his usual pathetic jokes to try and make you laugh.
He's floundering, he knows he is, but the tension in your shoulders hasn't lessened. You're still as tight and unhappy as you were when he first sank to his knees. He needs you to laugh, needs to hear that soft, musical sound, to see your face light up again, even if it means making a complete fool of himself.
Jungkook starts cracking even worse jokes, some of them so terrible he's half certain you'll throw a pillow at him. A soft jab at himself, a silly observation about the Han River, a pun that makes no sense whatsoever.
But you don't laugh.
His jokes fall flat. You exhale through your nose softly every time, a hint of a smile on your lips, but you don't laugh. The sound he's trying so hard to draw out of you still eludes him.
He feels desperate, grasping at straws. Jungkook’s arms tighten around you, and he turns his head, kissing any part of your shoulder or neck he can reach, anything for a reaction.
At the sensation of his lips against your skin, you finally give in and bury your head in his neck, pressing a kiss at the soft skin there. “I’m sorry for being moody with you, I don’t want you to worry. Your jokes are so funny, baby.”
A breath Jungkook didn't know he was holding escapes him as you bury your head against his neck, and he hugs you tighter as if trying to merge your bodies into one.
The apology soothes some of the anxiety in his chest. Your words are like an elixir, a promise that you're still here, even if you're not quite yourself tonight.
He buries his face into your hair, inhaling deeply. He doesn't care if you're lying, all he cares about is that the tension in your shoulders is starting to loosen under his arms.
“How’s your coding going?”
Jungkook’s heart clenches as you break the tension filled silence with a question about him. Concern for him, when he should be the one worrying about you.
He feels a pang of guilt as he answers, voice muffled in your hair. "It's...fine. Solved everything earlier...just, you know....refining." His hand starts tracing idle patterns against your back, fingers drawing nonsense on your shirt.
You hum in response, closing your eyes at the feeling.
The sound of your hum is soft, tired, but warm. Like a half charged battery finally connecting to its source.
His chest loosens in relief, and he presses his lips against the crown of your head, lingering there for a second too long.
"Wanna see something dumb?" Jungkook’s voice is hushed with sudden hope as he pulls back just enough to tilt his laptop screen toward you. "I might've...made this."
On the monitor: A crude pixel art doodle- your face, rendered in blocky blues and greens like an old video game character. The eyes are slightly off-center; one eyebrow sits comically high on its forehead.
"...Couldn't focus," he admits sheepishly, lip rings clicking together as he chews on them nervously while waiting for your reaction
The image makes you smile immediately, you love it when Jungkook secretly does things like this.
He sees it, the tiny, real crack in your stormy expression. Your smile is small but undeniable, and his entire body reacts like a computer receiving an unexpected input.
Jungkook’s breath hitches, the pixel art on the screen suddenly feels vital. "Okay okay, this one too!" He frantically scrolls to another tab where he's clearly been trying, and failing, to draw you in MS Paint: A lopsided stick figure with your hair color holding what might be a coffee cup or possibly an axe. "I was going for 'cool girlfriend vibes', but I think I just made you look like someone who robs banks?"
The desperate hopefulness of his voice makes it clear he doesn't care if these are objectively terrible; all that matters is seeing that soft curve of your lips again after so long without it.
“Cool girlfriend?”
He nods emphatically, pointing at the lopsided stick figure on the screen like it's a masterpiece in the Louvre. "Definitely. The coolest. Like...danger hot."
The tension in his shoulders has faded. Watching you relax into playful banter, even for a second, has him buzzing with exhilaration, like he's finally plugged into the correct outlet.
Jungkook’s hand finds your hip, thumb tracing mindless patterns over the soft curve there.
“I’m cool?” You tease, kissing his nose softly.
The feel of your lips on his nose is like a jolt of electricity directly to his heart, and he can't contain his response. A soft, breathless laugh escapes him, and he pulls you closer like an impatient child, nuzzling his face against yours in a desperate bid to keep you close.
"Cool?" He grins, the familiar spark of playfulness dancing in his eyes. "You're the coolest, babe. The absolute coolest."
He punctuates each "cool" with another gentle nudge of his nose against your cheek, his hand on your hip squeezing faintly.
You kiss the corner of his mouth, then pull away. It was a simple thing, just the briefest brush of your lips against the corner of his mouth, but it sends a thrill coursing through every nerve in his body.
His hand on your hip tightens involuntarily, fingers flexing as if trying to hold on to the sensation. His breath hitches, and he has to stop himself from pulling you right into his lap.
"You're not playing fair," Jungkook accuses, voice low and gruff with barely controlled desire. His eyes have darkened with an edge of hunger.
“I’m not?”
He huffs, trying, and failing, to sound offended when all he wants is to pull you closer. "No," he murmurs, his hand tracing a lazy path up your side, just under the hem of your shirt. His palm feels warm against your skin. "You're not."
He leans in, his lips brushing over your jawline, teasingly close to your ear. "Playing. Fair." Jungkook’s voice is low, rough with a poorly hidden want. The air in his lungs feels like liquid fire.
___
The rest of the night dissolves into hushed murmurs, warm skin pressed against his palms, the occasional breathless laugh tangled between kisses.
He stops trying to fix your mood, because this is better. The way you arch into him when he nips at that spot below your ear; how you sigh contentedly as he drags his fingers through your hair.
Jungkook’s jokes are forgotten now. His coding can wait forever for all he cares. Right here, in this quiet moment with just the han river outside and you in his arms?
You thrive off habits and patterns, building quiet rules to keep everything simple and casual. Because to you, unfamiliarity is eerie and evasion is easy. But between late nights and sloppy kisses; silence becomes too loud, rules blur into secrets, and deceit soaks up clarity.
➥ completed!
PAIRING: basketball player!jk x law student!reader
GENRE: strangers to fwb to lovers, college au, smut, fluff, angst
SERIES WARNINGS/DETAILS: fem!reader, fwb!mingyu, tae x oc, yearning, jealousy, jk’s very yummy and sexy, basketball talk i have no idea about, angst, smut wise: explicit sex, multiple sex scenes, locker room sex, car sex, oral (both receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex (be safe!!! they’re dumb!!!), penetration, riding, praising, m masturbation, exhibitionism, degradation, (more to be added probably)
NOTES: a little mini-series. this is kind of different from what i usually write so im a tiny bit nervous but am also having so much fun while writing so i hope it’ll be loved by you guys <3 im hoping to have a fixed schedule for this but we’ll see what life brings obv.
✎ i. Don’t flirt with athletes who flirt back better (6k)
✎ ii. Don’t sit courtside for someone you’re not dating (10k)
This was so good! I’m not even a JK biased but I was locked in the whole time! I love the story telling. The omniscient POV let’s you know everyone’s thoughts but also helps you notice the little movements and motions of the characters! Well written! I will definitely be reading this again I’m sure!
With his crazy good looks and panty-dropper charms, your best friend in the whole wide world is a boss level homme fatal, which is why you find it hoax level unbelievable when Jungkook declares he hasn’t had sex in three years. With all these people willing to sacrifice their firstborns just to spend one night with him, what can possibly be standing in his way?
jungkook x reader (f): friends to fwbs to lovers, smut, angst, mutual pining, slowburn
cw (18+): subject to update. chapters will have major warnings only, please read at your own risk. exploration of darker sexuality, themes of free use, objectification and fetishism, trust and control issues, intimacy building, recreational substance use, strong language, graphic sexual content depicting sexual deviance (specific warnings provided where applicable)
