synopsis: the perfect match is a modern dating app that uses in-app quizzes to bring highly compatible people together based on their personalities, likes, dislikes, sense of humor, and even sexual kinks. so how the fuck did you get matched with your nasty neighbor?
tags: fluff, angst, eventual smut, semi-smau, e2l!au, fake dating!au, neighbors!au, college!au, art student!jungkook, super studious!reader, awkward first times, family issues for #depth, slowww burn
a/n: hihiii!! this is going to be a semi-smau with mainly written chapters and some additional graphics. there is another version of this on my old account (@meiadore) but this one will be veryyy different (it’ll be much better haha). hope you enjoy!!
SERIES MASTERLIST ✧♬•*¨*•.｡
teaser ᥫ᭡.
one: first impressions ᥫ᭡. (2.6k)
two: great day gone bad ᥫ᭡. (1.7k)
three: 100% a glitch ᥫ᭡. (2.4k)
four: first date fumbles ᥫ᭡ (3.0k)
five: drunken confessions & a broken motorcycle ᥫ᭡ (5.9k)
six: the playbook ᥫ᭡. (4.6k)
more coming soon...
✧♬•*¨*•.｡ (cross posted on wattpad)
taglist: @sanarin @lovingkoalaface @adolescenceingrained
⤷ please leave me a comment or send me an ask if you would like to be added to the taglist <3
↳ SUMMARY: It honestly started off as a joke, your friend is obsessed with the show and when she noticed they had open casting she couldn’t miss the opportunity. You submitted your application as a joke, well now your joke has you on a plane to a foreign country. When half a million dollars is on the line people will scheme, play dirty, and show their true color for the simple taste of money. Your ability shines a light in the game, a light you wish never turned on. Bullies, rumors, hate surround your new light, maybe this isn’t just a game?
↳ WARNING: angst, smut, slow burn, jealousy, love triangle (slightly), body shaming, Misogyny, drinking & fighting/argument’s, yearning, jk has a toxic ex, emotional rollercoaster, belittling, etc
↳ NOTE: my obvious inspo is the challenge, I’ve been binge watching it and it gave me the motivation to write a series about it. I want to take all the ugly and make it into something good! I want to write the realism from the show and write a happy ending to it. I couldn’t get it out of my head -EVEN AT WORK! I literally started planning and writing down my plot and now I have the first episode done if it’s something that you guys like or want to read plss let me know!!! If not I will just bury this post :)
In which your hot personal trainer makes your body sore in ways that have nothing to do with training.
Genre: gym trainer AU, smut, fake dating, angst
Warnings: this was supposed to be pure filth but then plot and angst snuck in through the back door (oops), explicit sexual content (oral sex (m), fingering, face-fucking, public tension, shower sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink)
an: this is a work of fiction: the characters and scenarios are entirely fictionalized and written for entertainment purposes only.
Your thighs burned, the stretch biting deep as you held yourself in position, short shorts riding higher with every second of strain. Jungkook crouched close, one hand steady on your hip, the other hovering dangerously near your inner thigh, his breath maddeningly calm while yours came out in shaky bursts.
“Is it really that necessary for you to be this hands-on?” you teased through a groan, half annoyed, half something else you didn’t dare name.
His mouth curved, smug as sin. “My responsibility as a trainer is to monitor every part of your form,” he said smoothly, voice pitched low as though he wanted you to hear it in your bones. His fingers slid higher, not quite indecent, but close enough that your skin burned.
You rolled your eyes, not sure if it was from the ache tearing through your muscles or the sharper ache building somewhere else. “Seems to me like you just get off on bossing people around,” you muttered, forcing a laugh to hide how your thighs trembled. “Making them suffer like this.”
That earned you an unfairly deep laugh. The sound made your stomach twist, made you hate how much you liked it.
“And one more,” he commanded, leaning close as his hand pressed you deeper into the movement.
You groaned, the sound slipping too easily from your throat. He only smirked, watching you, savoring every movement.
Something reckless in you snapped. “Don’t men have better ways to make women sore?” you shot back, breathless, the words spilling out before you could reel them in. Or maybe you didn’t want to.
For the first time, his composure faltered — the smirk stuttering, his hand tightening against your hip. Victory pulsed hot in your chest.
You almost grinned, almost preened at having cracked his perfect armor, when he leaned in close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear. To anyone else in the gym it looked like he was just fixing your stance, but the whisper was meant for you alone.
“Not here,” Jungkook murmured, and then winked, his voice a promise that left your knees threatening to give out.
You cursed yourself for shivering. And cursed him more for the way heat pooled low in your stomach, your body already betraying how much you wanted to know exactly what “not here” would feel like.
Your body was already slick with sweat, the waistband of your shorts sticking, hair clinging damp to your forehead, when Jungkook shifted behind you again. His palm slid firmly over your hip, guiding you lower into the squat, his chest brushing your back just enough to make you think it wasn’t an accident.
“Deeper,” he murmured, voice pitched low, the single word dripping with suggestion. “You’re holding back.”
Your thighs trembled, the stretch burning, but it wasn’t the exercise that made your stomach twist. “Maybe I just don’t want to split myself open in front of everyone,” you hissed under your breath, forcing a crooked smile.
His smirk appeared in the mirror across from you. “Trust me,” he said, hand grazing higher on your inner thigh, fingertips brushing too close, “if I wanted you open, you’d forget about everyone else real fast.”
Your breath caught, a small involuntary sound breaking free as you pushed up again. Someone clanged weights on the other side of the gym, a reminder that you weren’t alone. You prayed no one noticed the way your knees wobbled.
“Push-ups,” Jungkook ordered, dropping to the mat with predatory ease. You followed, chest heaving as you lowered yourself down. His palm pressed between your shoulder blades, forcing you lower than you wanted.
“Ten more,” he said, louder now, for show. But his hand drifted lower, sliding from your shoulder down the line of your spine, pausing just above the swell of your ass. He pressed there lightly, pushing you into one more rep.
“Sadist,” you muttered, glaring at the mat.
“Dedicated,” he corrected smoothly, pushing you again. “And you love it.”
Your laugh came out breathless, raw. “I’ll love it more when you stop torturing me.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said so softly only you could hear, “I haven’t even started torturing you yet.”
You pushed up, chest burning, thighs screaming, and shot him a glare over your shoulder. “Then take me already.” The words slipped out sharp and reckless, half challenge, half plea.
His palm lingered at your hip just a second too long, fingertips brushing higher on your thigh until your breath caught. You thought he might break again, whisper something reckless like before, but instead, his hand disappeared from your body, only to slip something cool and metallic into your palm.
A key.
“You know what to do,” Jungkook murmured, straightening up, his voice all professionalism again. A smile ghosted his mouth as he nodded toward the far end of the gym. “I’ve got another client. Don’t get lazy.”
Your chest tightened, not from the exercise but from the rush of anticipation that hit harder than any rep. This wasn’t the first time. And still, it made you burn.
You curled your fingers around the key, hiding it in your fist like a secret, and shot him a look that was half a glare, half a smile. He only winked before walking off, casual as ever, as if he hadn’t just turned your entire body into a live wire.
***
So you went to the treadmill, like a good client, pretending to focus on cardio. Your thighs ached, your pulse spiked, but it wasn’t from running. It was from knowing what waited for you once his session ended.
Funny, how this place had become yours now. A gym. For a girl who once rotted in bed for half a year after her divorce, who thought she’d never move again, let alone feel this alive. Back then, you’d thought your life ended with Suho. Your first kiss, your first love, your first everything — he’d taken it all with him when he left. Twenty-five, divorced. Ruined. That’s what it felt like.
Until your friends dragged you out, begged you to try something: yoga, meditation, painting, anything but wasting away. And somehow, you landed here. With Jungkook.
Jungkook, who had laughed when you first whispered for a female trainer, too ashamed to let another man see you like this. But no one else had been available that day. Fate, maybe. Because the moment you met him, sweaty and alive, eyes glinting with something you didn’t understand, everything shifted.
He was your age but felt worlds ahead of you; full of drive, full of life, reminding you that youth wasn’t a number but a choice. He taught you more than reps and sets.
He taught you how to look at yourself in the mirror, until you stopped cringing at your reflection. He called you hot one day so casually that, without thinking, you’d worn a cropped top and shorts the next. You hadn’t felt that brave in years.
And Jungkook noticed. Oh, he noticed. He just didn’t show it at first, biting it back, trying not to stare at the curves you finally stopped hiding. Because unknown to you, it had been killing him all along, watching someone so stunning, so full of potential, walk through life drained of it. He never pushed, just nudged, subtly. Until the nudges became something else.
Your chatter during reps slipped into teasing, into playful banter, into late-morning conversations too personal for a trainer and his client. And then, that one morning on a quiet Saturday, when the gym was almost empty, you’d leaned in, heart hammering, and kissed him. Bold for the first time since Suho, reckless and terrified.
He’d pulled back. “I don’t… I don’t get involved with clients. I can’t.” For the first time, you’d seen him rattled.
But by the end of that session, he’d slipped a key into your hand. To his private changing room. The place where everything started one month ago.
Now, your treadmill beeped its cool-down, and when you slowed to a walk, you saw Jungkook finishing with his other client. His shirt damp with sweat, tattooed arm flexing as he racked weights, and his eyes finding yours instantly, like magnets.
Your pulse spiked all over again, because you both knew what came next. The well-known, dangerous, and intoxicating itinerary you couldn’t resist.
***
Your sneakers squeaked softly on the polished floor as you walked down the hallway, the key clenched tight in your palm. You didn’t have to check if he was behind you as you felt his heavy footfalls just a beat after yours, his presence a heat at your back that made anticipation coil tight in your belly.
This hallway had become your favorite place in the world, not because of its dull gray walls or scuffed doorframes, but because of what waited at the end of it.
You slid the key into the lock, pulse racing, and before you could even twist it fully, Jungkook’s chest pressed into your back, his breath hot against your neck. The moment you swung the door open, he was there, slamming it shut behind you with one hand while his other grabbed your waist and spun you into him.
You giggled, breathless already, and then there was no time for anything else as he devoured you. His mouth crashed into yours, all hungry, messy, sweat clinging to both of you from the workout. The salt of it only made the kiss filthier, more intoxicating.
“Fuck,” he groaned against your lips, squeezing your ass hard enough to make you gasp. “You know how hard it is to watch this ass all session and not take you right there? I’ve been waiting for this.”
Your laugh was swallowed in another kiss, your hips grinding into him shamelessly. “Then don’t wait.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he growled, but his hands were already on you, kneading your ass, lifting you like you weighed nothing.
Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking him against you, and he carried you across the small room, slamming you against the closet door with a thud that rattled through your bones.
You moaned, nails digging into his shoulders, and he answered by dragging his mouth down your neck, sucking and biting, leaving wet, hot trails that made you arch into him.
“How excited are you to feel me inside you?” he rasped, one hand sliding between you, cupping you through your damp shorts. His fingers pressed just enough to make your thighs quiver.
“Why don’t you check for yourself?” you shot back, voice breaking into a whimper as his touch found how soaked you were.
He laughed, teasing at your pussy through the thin fabric. “Fuck, you’re dripping. So wet I could slide into you right now. You like being my good girl, don’t you?”
“Shut up and fuck me,” you snapped, grinding into his hand, desperate.
“Oh, she’s feisty,” he teased, biting down on your throat as his fingers pressed harder. “Beg me again.”
You lost the battle to keep your composure, moaning openly. “Please, Jungkook. Please fuck me. I don’t care how, just do it.”
His eyes glinted as he licked a wet stripe across your jaw, his laughter wicked.
“Greedy little thing.” Two fingers shoved under your shorts, finding your slick folds instantly, sliding in with obscene ease. “So wet, so easy. I could add another finger already.”
Your eyes rolled back, hips bucking against his hand as you clung to his neck for support. “God—fuck—you’re killing me—”
“Why are you in such a hurry?” he mocked, curling his fingers inside you until your whole body shook.
You tried to speak, voice breaking into moans. “I—I have to go. Buy a present. Birthday party tonight.”
“Fuck that party,” he cursed, thrusting his fingers harder. “Wish I had all day to ruin you, good girl.”
The praise sent you spiraling, your moans growing shameless. “We’ll make it up later,” you promised breathlessly, rocking against his hand. “I’ll let you do anything. Just please, now.”
His growl vibrated against your skin, and before you could blink, you had your hand wrapped around the hard length straining in his shorts.
He hissed as you stroked, your palm sliding up and down his cock, feeling how rock-hard he already was for you.
“Fuck,” he gritted, head tipping back. “You’re playing with fire, baby.”
“You’re the one keeping me waiting,” you whispered, tugging his waistband down.
He didn’t hesitate then — your shorts were yanked down, your pussy exposed to the cool air for a split second before the blunt head of his cock tapped against your entrance. Once. Twice. Teasing. Your whole body vibrated with frustration.
“Beg prettier,” he smirked, but the look in his eyes already promised he was seconds away from snapping.
“Please,” you gasped, mouth opening against his, “just— fuck— me already—”
His lips sealed over yours, tongue shoving past as he thrust in with one smooth, brutal stroke. You cried out into his mouth, and you couldn’t care less who heard.
Jungkook’s cock slammed into you in another long, devastating thrust, and the air punched out of your lungs. You moaned into his mouth, nails clawing at his shoulders, and he swallowed every sound like it was what kept him alive. His body pressed flush to yours, chest to chest, sweat-slick and burning hot, his abs grinding into your stomach with every brutal snap of his hips.
You whimpered against his lips, and his hand slid up to your face, thumb pushing between your parted lips. “Open wider,” he growled, his forehead pressing to yours as he thrust into you again. “Yeah, that’s it. Suck.”
You moaned around his thumb, sucking desperately, rolling your tongue over it like it was his cock. His eyes darkened, lips curling into a feral smile as he fucked you harder.
“Good girl. God, look at you. You’re fucking dripping for me, squeezing me so tight I can barely breathe. You love this, don’t you? You love me using you like this.”
Your whimpers vibrated against his thumb, your eyes glassy, your body trembling with every punishing thrust.
He kept his finger buried in your mouth, pushing deeper, until spit was sliding down your chin. “So messy,” he grunted, eyes locked on your face. “So fucking pretty when you’re filthy for me.”
You tried to answer, tried to moan words around his thumb, but all that came out was a strangled sound, your body arching into him. That only fueled him more.
His hips pounded into you, each thrust rougher, sweat dripping down his temples as he snarled, “Gonna ruin you in this room, sweetheart. You’ll think about this every time you walk in this gym. Every time.”
Your whole body shook, your nails digging so deep into his back you’d leave marks. You were gone: both lost to pleasure and to him.
And then, just as your moans got louder, he pulled out abruptly. You whimpered, chest heaving, about to protest, but he spun you quick and dirty, slamming you forward against the closet door.
“Shut up,” he hissed, spreading your legs with his knee. “I’m not done with you.”
You gasped when he pushed back inside, the angle deeper, your body arching as your cheek pressed to the cool wood. His chest covered your back, his breath hot against your ear, his tattooed arm wrapping around to shove your top up. Rough palms cupped your tits, squeezing and pinching your nipples until you were crying out.
“Fuck, these are mine,” Jungkook groaned, rutting into you with messy, unrestrained thrusts. “Everything about you is mine. Say it.”
“Yes — fuck, yes, yours,” you panted, head tipping to the side, desperate to kiss him.
And he gave in to you, his mouth finding yours in a sloppy, breathless kiss, his tongue sliding against yours even as his cock ruined you from behind. You whined into his mouth, the sound caught between pain and ecstasy, and he devoured it like he needed every last drop.
His thrusts grew faster and harsher, your body slamming into the door with each stroke. One hand clamped around your tits, the other sliding down your stomach, fingers circling your clit with maddening precision.
“Fuck—feel that? You’re so wet for me,” he rasped, nipping at your lower lip. “I’m gonna make you cum all over my cock. You want that?”
“Yes—yes, Jungkook, please—”
“Beg louder,” he demanded, grinding against your clit while fucking you deeper.
“Please! Please, make me cum!”
That was all he needed. He growled low in his chest, his cock slamming into you harder, his fingers ruthless on your clit. You screamed his name, your whole body convulsing as the orgasm tore through you, clenching around him so tight he lost his rhythm.
“Fuck…oh fuck, that’s it…” he groaned, hips stuttering as he chased his own release. He slammed into you one, two, three more times, then buried himself deep with a broken growl, his cock twitching as he spilled into you.
He moaned your name into your mouth, his lips pressing sloppy, desperate kisses as you both shook against the closet door, clinging to each other, sweat-drenched and ruined.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of your panting, his heartbeat hammering against your back, his cock still pulsing inside you. Then Jungkook bit your shoulder softly, possessive even in the aftermath, and whispered, “Fuck… you’re never getting rid of me now.”
You giggled, weak and breathless. “You’re insane.”
Jungkook bit your neck lightly, lips still swollen from your kisses. “You’re the one who begged.”
You turned your head, catching his smirk, rolling your eyes even as you laughed. “Yeah, well, you’re too good at making people beg.”
“That’s my job,” he shot back smugly, pulling out with a hiss. His cum slid down your thigh, and he groaned at the sight before tucking himself back into his shorts. He grabbed your chin gently, kissed you once more, soft this time. “You’re late, aren’t you?”
You sighed, remembering. “Birthday party.”
He smirked knowingly. “You can use my shower. Ladies first.”
“Thank you,” you muttered, adjusting your clothes, your legs still shaky.
But before you could turn away, you glanced at him, the heat in your body sparking all over again.Why was he so hot just by standing there? Slowly, you stuck your tongue out. “Or… maybe we should shower together.”
His eyes darkened instantly. “You sure?”
Instead of answering, you flashed him a wicked grin. That was enough.
The shower steamed quickly, hot water cascading down his muscled chest, rivulets tracing his abs. You leaned against the tile, hair plastered to your face, watching him adjust the water.
“You’re lucky you’re in a hurry,” Jungkook rasped, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you under the spray with him. His lips brushed your temple as he pressed you into his chest. “Otherwise, I’d bend you over right here.”
You laughed, the sound bouncing off the tiles, but your gaze dropped inevitably to the heavy length between his legs. Still hard, flushed and dripping. “You’re still hard.”
He smirked, hands gripping your ass as he pulled you closer. “Because of you. Always because of you.”
Heat licked down your spine, need sparking alive again. You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, then his neck, tasting water and sweat. He hissed, tightening his hold on you. “Stop if you’re in such a rush.”
You bit him lightly, smirking up at him. “Shut up. Let me thank my trainer.”
Before he could answer, you kissed down his chest, your lips trailing water over his abs until you were kneeling in front of him, the spray misting your skin. His cock stood thick and ready, and your mouth watered at the sight.
“Fuck,” he groaned, one hand immediately tangling in your wet hair as you licked from base to tip, dragging your tongue slow and deliberate. His head fell back, a guttural moan ripping from his throat. “Jesus, baby….”
You smirked, swirling your tongue around the flushed head before sucking him in. His grip tightened, hips twitching forward. When you looked up, his eyes locked with yours instantly, his jaw clenched, pupils blown wide.
“God, don’t look at me like that,” he groaned, fucking slowly into your mouth. “You know I’ll lose it.”
You knew exactly what you were doing. You hummed around him, hollowing your cheeks, taking him deeper.
He hissed, his grip guiding your pace, until he couldn’t hold back anymore and he was thrusting, using your mouth, moaning your name like a curse.
“Fuck, that’s it, take it, take all of me, you’re so good, fuck—”
Your throat burned, spit mixing with water, your own slick dripping down your thighs as his cock slid in and out of your lips. You gagged but kept going, desperate for the raw praise spilling from his mouth.
And then he broke. With a growl, he pulled out just enough and came hard across your chest, white streaks painting your skin as you stuck out your tongue, catching the last drops. His feral and rough groan echoed off the tile as his hand shook in your hair.
Breathless, he dragged you up, kissing you hard, his tongue shoving past your lips, tasting himself on you. You melted against him, ruined and blissful, the water washing over you both.
“Fuck,” he whispered against your mouth, still breathless, still hard even now. “You’re gonna kill me one day.”
You grinned, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Then I’m doing my job right.”
The two of you laughed, steam curling around your bodies, before finally washing up for real.
***
Steam still clung to your skin when you stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped tight around you. Jungkook leaned against the sink, running a towel through his wet hair, droplets sliding down his neck. He looked unfair like that, casual, undone, and still burning with the afterglow of what you’d just done.
You peeled away from your towel, slipping into fresh lingerie from your gym bag, when your eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. The time made your stomach drop.
“Shit,” you muttered.
Jungkook, shirtless, rubbing a towel through his hair, glanced over instantly. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to be so late,” you groaned, fumbling with your bra clasp. “Or worse — without a present. Which is basically unforgivable.”
He tilted his head, stilling. “Being late’s not the end of the world.”
You shook your head sharply. “No, it is. It’s my friend’s son’s birthday. I’m his godmother. If I show up empty-handed or late, it’s unforgivable.”
For a moment he just watched you, the corners of his mouth softening. Then he nodded. “That’s… actually really nice. Important.” Then his eyes sparked again. “I’ll drive you. You’ll have time for the present and still make it on time.”
You froze, pulling your skirt up over your hips. “Drive me?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged like it was obvious, tugging a white t-shirt down over his head, the cotton stretching across his chest. “Problem solved.”
You hesitated, frowning. In the mirror, you caught sight of both of you: him shaking his hair out, slipping into his leather jacket, you adjusting your short tweed suit. It hit you then: you had never been out of the gym together. Never walked side by side anywhere except down that hallway to his private changing room. Your entire… thing… existed within the walls of the gym and sweat.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said quietly.
He grinned, sliding into his jeans., and looked every bit like trouble. “Come on. A godmother can’t disappoint. Let me.”
You stared at him, uncertain. He grinned like he knew he’d won. And, damn it, he had.
Minutes later, you caught your reflection in the mirror of the gym lobby: your hair tamed, your body tucked into your short tweed suit, heels clicking against the floor. And next to you, Jungkook in a white t-shirt stretched across his chest and a black leather jacket slung over his shoulders.
To your horror, he looked even hotter outside of sweat and shorts.
His eyes swept over you in return, lingering at your legs. “You look… classy.”
You barked out a laugh. “Wow. Thanks. Very poetic.”
His grin widened. “Okay, fine. You look fucking hot.”
You shook your head, cheeks heating, brushing past him toward the exit.
Outside, he beat you to every door — holding them open, offering his hand. A gentleman. It made your skin crawl, not because it was bad but because it was unfamiliar. The kind of treatment you hadn’t known even in your marriage.
And now the man beside you wasn’t someone you could name, wasn’t someone who had vows tying him to you. Jungkook was… you didn’t even know what. And that thought gnawed at you even as your body hummed with the thrill of it.
When you reached the front desk, Jungkook paused. “One sec.”
You waited, fiddling with your bag strap, only to overhear his voice at the counter. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
Your head whipped around. By the time he returned, rolling his sleeves to his elbows, you nearly scolded him. “You shouldn’t have done that. Not for me. It’s not that important. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have agreed.”
He laughed, the sound warm and cocky at once. “Wow. Bad godmother. How can you say it’s not important? Besides,” he leaned close, voice dropping just enough to curl heat into your stomach, “I’m your trainer. I have to help you, right?”
You stared at him, utterly at a loss for words.
“Come on.” He opened the passenger door of a sleek, black Porsche Taycan, waiting with that smug tilt of his chin.
Your eyes widened. “This is yours?”
“Work hard, play hard,” he said, satisfied, gesturing for you to get in.
Sliding into buttery leather seats, you shook your head, still reeling.
The Porsche purred as Jungkook guided it smoothly through traffic, one hand lazy on the wheel, the other drumming against his thigh in rhythm with the music on the radio. The city rolled by in a blur.
He glanced at you, lips tugging into a small smile. “You know, I’ve been to that toy store before.”
You arched a brow. “You shop for yourself?”
He snorted. “My niece. Back when I wasn’t making much, I’d walk in there and spend everything I had on her. Couldn’t pick one toy, so I’d just… buy everything. Walked out with bags I could barely carry.”
You laughed, picturing him, leather jacket and tattoos, struggling under mountains of dolls and stuffed animals. “That’s ridiculous. And actually kind of sweet.”
His warm and a little proud smile lingered. He reached into the console, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one against the carton. But before lighting, he caught himself, muttered “sorry,” and shoved it back.
You frowned. “It’s fine. You can smoke. It’s your car.”
He shook his head firmly. “No.”
“Really, it’s fine,” you insisted, a nervous edge in your voice. “I’m already making you do too much for me. My ex used to smoke around me all the time. I’m used to it.”
Jungkook’s knuckles tightened against the wheel. His jaw flexed once, twice, before he rolled his eyes and muttered, “How the fuck could he do that in front of someone like you?”
Heat crawled into your face. You laughed bitterly. “I’m not someone special.”
He turned sharply, smirking like a wolf. “Not special? Please. You’re insanely special at giving the most mind-blowing blowjobs I’ve ever had.”
Your hands shot up to your face instantly, groaning into your palms. “Jungkook! Shut up! Don’t say that out loud!”
He barked a laugh, unbothered, his eyes glinting with amusement. “What? I was literally balls deep in your pussy forty minutes ago. I think I’ve earned the right to say whatever I want.”
“God, stop talking.” You whimpered behind your hands, shrinking into the seat. “How can you say that so casually?”
“Because we’re adults. We fuck. It’s normal.” He chuckled again, clearly entertained by your misery. “You’re unbelievable. One minute you’re shy, the next you’re wild. I love it.”
You wanted to argue, to crawl out of your own skin, but the car slowed, pulling into a wide parking lot and your agony ended. Neon letters glowed above the entrance: the city’s biggest toy store.
Your cheeks were still burning when you followed Jungkook out of the car, his hand pressing lightly at the small of your back as the glass doors slid open. People bustled past with carts and bags, and you walked beside him like this was the most normal thing in the world.
It felt like… a date. Like being in a relationship. Something you weren’t supposed to have.
The thought hit you hard, lodged itself deep in your chest. Your family had just cracked apart, your marriage dissolved, your life still bleeding from the ruin, and here you were, walking into a store with Jungkook, pretending this was something it wasn’t.
And you hated yourself for how good it felt.
***
The toy store was chaos in bright colors: shelves stacked high with action figures, dolls in glittery dresses, and plastic cars that blared jingles when kids pressed the wrong buttons. Parents wrangled toddlers with practiced exhaustion, the air filled with the hum of chatter and squeaky shopping carts.
The toy store was chaos in bright colors — shelves stacked high with action figures, dolls in glittery dresses, and plastic cars that blared jingles when kids pressed the wrong buttons. Parents wrangled toddlers with practiced exhaustion, the air filled with the hum of chatter and squeaky shopping carts.
You froze near the entrance, overwhelmed by the sheer options. “Where do I even start?”
“Relax,” Jungkook said, grabbing a basket like he owned the place. “You’ve got the expert with you.”
You raised a brow. “Expert?”
He smirked, leading you down an aisle of plush animals. “Told you. My niece. I used to go broke in here.”
It took all of three minutes for him to prove it. He crouched low, scanning shelves with the concentration of someone diffusing a bomb, then pulled out a stuffed dinosaur that roared when you squeezed its belly. He held it up, eyes wide, grinning like a kid himself.
“This one.”
You laughed. “That’s terrifying.”
“No way,” he protested, squeezing it again so the roar echoed down the aisle. A little boy passing with his mom shrieked in delight, pointing. Jungkook winked at him. “See? Approved.”
You shook your head, amused despite yourself. “Okay, maybe. But he’s three. He needs something more… age-appropriate.”
“Dinosaurs are timeless,” Jungkook argued, tossing the toy into the basket before you could stop him. “Fine. You pick one.”
You scanned the shelves, reaching for a wooden puzzle set. “This. It’s educational.”
He groaned dramatically. “Boring. You’re going to be the lame godmother.”
You gasped, clutching the box to your chest. “Excuse me?”
He leaned in, smirking. “You heard me. Lame.”
You swatted his arm with the puzzle box, and he chuckled, catching your wrist lightly before you could hit him again. His hand was warm, steady, and for a second, the playful spark between you shifted into something heavier. You yanked your hand back, tucking hair behind your ear, trying to laugh it off.
“Fine,” you said, placing the puzzle in the basket anyway. “We’ll get both. Balance.”
That set the tone of the two of you wandering through aisles, bickering over remote-control cars versus art kits, board games versus plush toys. He made fun of your “serious” choices, and you teased him for acting like a child himself. At one point, he popped a plastic crown onto his head from the princess aisle, strutting dramatically until you doubled over laughing.
“See?” he said, bowing with mock elegance. “You can’t tell me I wouldn’t make a great babysitter.”
“You’d spoil them rotten,” you shot back, wiping tears from your eyes.
“Exactly,” he said proudly.
By the time you reached the checkout, your basket was overflowing with his picks, your picks, and a few compromises in between. You stared at the pile, horrified. “This is insane. It looks like we’re shopping for a whole kindergarten.”
He just shrugged, smug as ever. “Better than being the lame godmother.”
You groaned, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. For the first time in a long time, the heaviness in your chest felt lighter.
***
The bags rustled in the back seat, and you were still laughing about how Jungkook had nearly knocked over a display with his dramatic princess-crown bow when your phone buzzed in your lap.
At first, you ignored it, too caught up in the lingering amusement. But when it buzzed again, you finally glanced down. One glance at the preview and your smile dissolved. The laugh in your throat died sharp.
“Fuck,” you cursed, louder than you meant to.
Jungkook’s head turned instantly, brows knitting. “What happened?”
You swallowed hard, staring at the message until the words blurred. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I dragged you into this for nothing. I’m not going.”
His hands tightened on the wheel. “What do you mean you’re not going?”
“It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head, voice trembling between fury and despair. “All of this was in vain. Because he’s there.”
Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “He?”
You laughed bitterly, though it came out more like a sob. “Suho. My ex-husband. Anika’s husband invited him. Of course he did. Of course he’d show up to my godson’s birthday party.”
The silence that followed was thick. You hated the way your chest felt cracked open again, raw and exposed.
Jungkook exhaled through his nose, steady. “Then we’ll go together.”
You whipped your head toward him. “What?”
He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “You’ll introduce me as your boyfriend. I’ll be there by your side.”
You blinked, words failing you.
Jungkook knew your past. Months ago, during those slow cool-down stretches, during the moments when you were pliable enough to share, you’d told him about Suho. About how it started with little things at first: nights out, excuses, his body next to you in bed but already miles away.
Then the nights turned into absences, the absences into silences, until one day he’d walked in, eyes cold, asking you for a break.
You’d believed him, believed he was struggling, believed he needed space to be ready to tell you something serious. Instead, he returned with divorce papers and the smug declaration that he’d found the love of his life. That your marriage was a rushed mistake of two teenagers from the start.
You remembered how dumb and small you felt telling all of that to Jungkook. How you whispered that maybe the people were right that you were the problem, you are just the kind of woman who couldn’t keep a man.
And you remembered the way Jungkook’s face hardened, how his voice left no room for argument when he said, “No. He’s a dick. That’s it.”
You’d tried to defend Suho out of habit, out of respect for the years you’d spent together, but Jungkook hadn’t budged. He’d called him out for exactly what he was.
Now, in the car, he glanced at you quickly, his hand flexing on the wheel. “You’re not facing him alone. Not ever again, if I have a say.”
You inhaled, deep and shaky, trying to steady the wild drum of your pulse. Part of you knew Jungkook was overreacting. Showing up to Anika’s son’s birthday with your trainer on your arm, parading him as your boyfriend, was insane. Scandalous. The kind of move people would whisper about for months.
But then the thought hit you — their faces. The way everyone would look if you walked in with someone like Jungkook beside you. How the pitying glances would finally shatter. Everyone had thought you were a lost cause, a woman chewed up and spit out by her divorce. And maybe they’d been right once. But not anymore.
“Fine,” you blurted, panic riding high in your voice. “But we…we need to develop our love story in the next twenty minutes. While we still have time.”
Jungkook tore his gaze from the road to stare at you, then burst out laughing. “Love story?”
“Yes!” you snapped, wringing your hands. “Math should math, Jungkook. What if someone asks? We have to be consistent. Like, what if we say we started dating three months ago? Okay, and then how did you ask me to be your girlfriend? Did you ask me…like, officially? Or was it casual? We need details!”
He laughed harder, shaking his head, his white teeth flashing. “Who the hell asks to be a boyfriend? We’re not teenagers asking each other to prom.”
Your laugh came out sad, cracked at the edges, and you pressed your forehead briefly to the cool window. “Yeah. Guess I wouldn’t know.”
His laughter faded, his hand tightening just slightly on the steering wheel.
Because you didn’t know. You’d gone from being Suho’s girl at seventeen to his wife at twenty-one. There had never been a middle. No fumbling dates, no trial and error, no “what are we” conversations. Just vows and promises that turned to dust.
You tried to smile anyway, to lighten it. “I guess this will be my first time dating as an adult. Great milestone.”
Jungkook glanced at you again, longer this time, his smirk softened but still there. “Then relax. You don’t need a script. Just let me handle it.”
***
By the time Jungkook pulled into the driveway, your palms were slick with sweat. Balloons bobbed from the mailbox, music drifted faintly from the yard, and children’s laughter rang out over the fence. A wave of nausea rolled through you.
“This is insane,” you whispered, gripping your bag like it was a lifeline.
“Relax,” Jungkook said, his voice calm but still teasing. “You’ll be fine.”
Your legs shook as you stepped out of the car, heels crunching against the gravel. The yard was already bustling with clusters of your old friends scattered across picnic tables, kids darting between them with sticky hands and painted faces. Their chatter dimmed as you approached, eyes flicking toward you in unison.
Panic swelled tight in your chest. They were looking and you could feel their judgement.
And then Jungkook’s arm slid around your waist firmly, almost possessively. His body a wall at your side, his thumb brushing once against your hip as if to remind you: I’ve got you.
You exhaled shakily, and to your horror, it helped.
“Y/N!”
Anika appeared, her hair pinned messily up, her dress dotted with flour and something sticky you didn’t want to name. She was juggling a plate in one hand and a juice box in the other, kids swarming around her. She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight, before noticing the mountain of bags Jungkook was holding behind you.
Her eyes widened. “Holy shit, look at all this! You brought half the store…” She broke off mid-sentence, finally registering the man at your side. Her jaw dropped, words stuttering. “Wait. Is that…did you bring a plus one?”
Jungkook laughed, and the sound curled into your bones.
You groaned, smacking Anika’s arm lightly. “Shut up.”
But she only grinned wider, eyes dancing. “Oh my god, I’m so proud of my girl.”
Heat rose in your cheeks, and you tried to play it off, but it didn’t matter. You could feel every glance, every whisper. People looking, measuring, recalibrating their picture of you. Y/N, the divorced girl everyone pitied, suddenly standing here with him.
Before the weight of it crushed you, a familiar squeal pierced the noise.
“Y/N!!” Minju barreled toward you, his little legs carrying him as fast as they could, frosting smeared across his cheek and shirt.
You crouched down just in time to catch him, his small body colliding with yours, arms wrapping tight around your neck.
You laughed, kissing the top of his head as he clung to you. “Look at you, birthday boy! I missed you so much.”
“I love you,” he said solemnly, like it was the most important thing in the world.
Your chest clenched. “I love you too, baby.”
What you didn’t see was Jungkook standing a step behind you, still holding the bags of gifts like they weighed nothing. His usual composure faltered as he watched the way you pressed Minju close, the way your laughter softened, the way affection seemed to pour from you so naturally.
His lips parted, his jaw flexed, like he couldn’t quite handle how cute the scene was. He tried to school his face, but his smile broke through anyway, unguarded and impossibly fond.
Then Minju wriggled in your arms, twisting to glance at Jungkook. His little finger pointed straight at him. “Him too. If he brought me all that.”
Jungkook crouched down to Minju’s level, grin widening. “Guilty. That was me.”
Minju gasped, delighted. “Then I love you too!”
Everyone around you chuckled, and Jungkook didn’t even try to hide the stupidly wide smile spreading across his face. For a second, the weight of every glance melted.
And against your will, warmth bloomed in your chest.
***
Anika buzzed around like the hostess she always was, balancing conversation and chaos with her usual flair. Between her bursts of chatter, other guests drifted in: women you hadn’t seen in months, men who used to crowd the same dinner tables as you and Suho. Their smiles were polite, their eyes careful, as if they weren’t sure whether to acknowledge what they knew.
“So,” one of them asked with careful curiosity, “how did you two meet?”
Your chest tightened, the answer sticking in your throat.
Before you could stumble, Jungkook’s arm flexed tighter around your waist, his smile sliding into place effortlessly. “At the gym,” he said, voice steady. “We both went there a lot. I saw her a few times, she saw me. Took a while before we actually talked.”
The group hummed approvingly, one woman laughing softly. “Ah, so fitness brought you together.”
Jungkook chuckled, glancing down at you with that dazzling grin. “Yeah. She wasn’t too sure about me at first, though.”
Another woman leaned in. “And now? It seems… serious?”
Jungkook’s arm tightened at your waist, his thumb brushing idly against your side. “When you know, you know.” His grin was dazzling, confident, the kind of answer that satisfied without opening the door to more questions.
Compliments slipped from him so easily, you almost believed they were real. “She’s the best part of my day,” he said, glancing down at you, and everyone around melted.
You nodded weakly, letting him carry the story, grateful. And as he went on, filling in little details, handling every curious question with ease, you felt the tension in your body unclench, wondering how much of his warmth was just him acting.
Or was there some truth in the softness of his voice, in the way his eyes lingered when he thought no one was looking?
Your stomach twisted painfully. You’d never asked about his life outside of the gym, outside of you. What if he was seeing someone else, cheating, or worse — what if you were just one of many?
Why am I thinking about this now? you scolded yourself. Here you were, role-playing a picture-perfect couple, while your brain itched at cracks in the facade.
Thankfully, Anika excused herself to wrangle a screaming toddler, and with her departure, the crowd dispersed too, leaving just the two of you in the shade of the patio. Relief washed over you.
Jungkook tugged you closer, his palm spreading warm across your waist. “You okay?”
You tilted your head up, managed a real smile. “Thank you.”
His answering nod was simple, but it settled something shaky inside you. You slipped into an easier conversation then, about the mountain of toys, about the dinosaur still roaring somewhere in the grass, about nothing that mattered. For a few moments, it was calm.
And then you saw him.
Across the yard, just beyond the balloons and tables, Suho walked in, polished and familiar in a way that still had the power to steal the air from your lungs.
You’d almost forgotten what you were dreading in the first place. But now, the ground tilted under your feet.
***
He looked the same, but to you he was unrecognizable, both a stranger and still the only person who could gut you with a glance.
Your chest tightened, stomach plummeting. You couldn’t move.
Beside you, Jungkook followed the frozen line of your stare, his eyes sharpening the second they landed on him. He didn’t need to ask, he already knew.
His hand tightened around your waist, anchoring you, dragging you back into the present before you could spiral.
Suho started moving toward you, each step deliberate, measured. Your pulse roared in your ears. Six months. No calls, no messages, no chance encounters. And now here he was, as if summoned, as if time hadn’t stretched itself into a wound between you.
And just when you thought you’d splinter, Jungkook leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re beautiful tonight.”
Your head snapped toward him, startled, and the smallest laugh slipped from your lips. The words tugged you out of Suho’s gravity, if only for a moment. Your smile, trembling as it was, belonged to Jungkook, and that was what Suho walked up to see.
A low, purposeful cough.
“It’s nice to see you here, Y/N.” His voice was deep, smooth in a way it had never been with you when you were actually his. It made your skin crawl.
You shrugged dumbly, the sound that left your throat barely resembling agreement. What else was there to say?
Before silence swallowed you, Jungkook stepped forward, hand extended, his confidence a wall between you and the past. “Jungkook,” he said smoothly. “Y/N’s boyfriend.”
Suho blinked, caught off guard by the blunt introduction. His gaze flicked to you, searching, but Jungkook didn’t falter, his hand still outstretched until Suho was forced to shake it.
“Okay…” Suho muttered, the word drawn out. His eyes lingered on you. “How have you been?”
Jungkook glanced at you then, and though you wished he’d answer for you, you knew he wouldn’t. This part, he couldn’t shield you from. His gaze, steady and unyielding, held yours as if to say you’ve got this.
But suddenly you felt small again. Crushed. As though the months of dragging yourself back from ruin, of learning how to breathe and laugh and stand on your own two feet, meant nothing under the weight of his question.
Still, you forced your chin up. “I’m good, actually,” you said, your voice thinner than you wanted, shaking at the edges.
Your hand squeezed Jungkook’s tighter, as though wringing strength from him. “I think I haven’t felt so good in a really long time.”
The confidence in your words wasn’t perfect, but Jungkook’s answering smile told you it didn’t matter. He was proud of you. He knew how much it cost to say that aloud.
Suho, however, only frowned faintly, as though he hadn’t heard the warning in your voice. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He lingered there, uninvited, ignoring the clear lines drawn in front of him.
***
Suho lingered like a shadow, slipping into the conversation with practiced ease, asking Jungkook too many questions about where you met, about what you did together, about how long it had been.
Each word scraped against your nerves, each glance he sent your way a reminder of everything you’d lost.
You couldn’t bear it.
“Shit,” you blurted suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence. You turned to Jungkook, forcing a nervous smile. “We… I think we forgot some presents in the car.”
Jungkook blinked. “What? Are you sure?” His voice was cautious, as if trying to read you.
“Yes,” you hissed, grabbing his hand like an anchor. “Come on.”
Inside, you cringed. God, what a stupid excuse. You brought half the damn store already. No one in their right mind would believe there was more. But thankfully, Jungkook just nodded once and went along, excusing you both with that same unbothered charm.
The yard noise faded behind you, replaced by the stillness of the evening. Crickets hummed, the air warm with the last breath of daylight, as you leaned against his car at the parking lot. Your shoulders sagged under the weight of it all.
“I want to go home,” you admitted, staring at the gravel.
Jungkook leaned against the car beside you, folding his arms. “Why? You shouldn’t let him win. This is your friend’s party too.”
You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “This isn’t a war, Jungkook. It’s… it’s my feelings. And Suho is just…Ugh, he’s a constant reminder. That I’m unlovable. Not enough.”
Jungkook didn’t answer right away, and you were grateful for that. When you finally looked at him, his jaw was clenched tight. His eyes burned, annoyance flashing there, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pushed off the car, stepping into your space until you had nowhere to go.
“Should I fuck you in front of a mirror,” he murmured, voice rough, “just so you can see how hot you actually are?”
A startled laugh escaped you, the kind that came out half-choked. You pushed at his chest playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”
But Jungkook only leaned closer, his body caging you against the car. His mouth crashed into yours, tongues tangling, his hands braced on either side of your head. The kiss was messy, desperate, like he wanted to drown out every thought you had of being less than enough.
And for a moment, you let yourself sink into him.
But even as your lips moved against his, the thought slithered in like smoke: this is all it is with him.
Heat and hunger, the rush of stolen moments. Not marriage. Not family. Not the solidity you’d once had, no matter how it had ended.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, your chest ached with more than just breathlessness.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured.
You nodded, because what else was there to do?
***
Jungkook had been baffled since the party.
It had been a long time since he’d thought about relationships at all. Not because he was running from them, but because his focus had been elsewhere — building his name, stacking clients, grinding until his schedule bled into his sleep. Women, when they appeared, were easy. One night, sometimes two, never anything demanding.
He had rules: clients were off-limits, no exceptions. His life worked better when it was clean, simple and disciplined.
And then there was you.
You, with your soft voice and careful glances, your walls stacked higher than the weights he racked. You, with your reluctance to even let him near you at first, hiding inside hoodies, flinching under every correction.
You weren’t the first shy client he’d had, not the first person to step into the gym insecure, unsure, hoping for more than they dared to admit. He was used to that. He’d guided plenty of people through their doubts.
But you were different.
You’d been broken when he met you, stitched together but still fraying at the edges. And slowly, painfully, you let him in. You started laughing with him. Started bantering. Started looking at yourself in the mirror instead of looking away. And he… he fucking loved watching that.
You were the one who kissed him first. That morning, when the gym was empty and the air smelled faintly of chalk and sweat, you leaned in and he should have pushed you back. Should have reminded you of the boundary.
But he couldn’t. Not with you. How could he say no when everything about you made him want more?
With you, it didn’t feel like crossing a line. It felt natural. Right.
But you were always oblivious to the hints he dropped. How he’d ask about your weekend plans, how he’d brush a little too close outside of training, how his gaze lingered longer than it should. You thought he was teasing, nothing more. So when the chance came at the toy store: an excuse to finally walk out into the world with you by his side, he took it without thinking. Thank god you hadn’t rejected him this time.
Because he was sure you felt it too.
He couldn’t prove it, but he sensed it: the way your body relaxed when his hand found your waist, the way your eyes softened when you laughed with him, the way you squeezed his fingers when Suho’s presence threatened to pull you apart.
You made sense together. You balanced him in ways he hadn’t realized he needed.
But here was the problem: he’d never asked before. He simply never had to. Things just happened, casual or otherwise, sliding into place until they faded out. He’d never been the kind of man to look at someone and say be mine without hesitation.
With you, though, he was starting to realize he might have to. Because if he didn’t say it out loud, you’d never believe it.
And he wasn’t ready to let you walk away.
***
He’d tucked the bouquet away like a secret, peonies blooming soft and full in the vase he’d hidden in his changing room.
It felt ridiculous, sentimental even, but he’d gotten the memo: you weren’t the kind of girl who’d understand through passing hints or casual smiles. You needed something concrete. And he was ready to give it.
But you didn’t show up.
At first, he thought you were running late. He checked the clock, fiddled with his clipboard, stretched out his patience. But an hour passed. Two.
The administrator finally pulled him aside“She canceled her training sessions. Froze her membership.”
The words hit harder than a punch to the ribs.
“What?” His voice came out too sharp, but the administrator only shrugged helplessly.
Jungkook’s mind spun. What the fuck is going on? Why would you vanish like this? Did he push too hard at the party? Did Suho get in your head? Did he?
Panic coiled tight in his chest, burning. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe you were angry. God, he almost hoped that was it because the alternative was worse. What if something had happened to you?
Before he even thought about it, he was in his car, bouquet forgotten, tearing through traffic toward your building. He remembered the street from that night after Minju’s birthday, when you’d let him drive you home.
He hadn’t known the apartment, hadn’t asked, respecting the line you kept so carefully between you. But tonight, he didn’t care.
He pulled up sharp, barely throwing the car into park before leaping out. An older couple were just stepping up to the front door of the building, and he jogged toward them.
“Sorry— excuse me,” he blurted, a little breathless. “Do you happen to know which apartment Y/N lives in?”
They paused, eyes narrowing in suspicion, hands tightening on the bags they carried. He realized, belatedly, how it must look: a sweaty young man, frantic, asking after a woman.
“Who are you to her?” the man asked, frowning.
The question gutted him. Who was he to you? Not someone close, apparently. Not someone who even knew your damn address. Just a trainer who crossed a line, a man you kissed in empty gyms and fucked in stolen showers. He felt it sink in his stomach…maybe he was nothing more.
“I’m…” His throat tightened, but he forced the lie out steadily. “I’m a delivery guy. She forgot to write her apartment number on the app.”
The couple exchanged another wary glance, but finally the woman sighed, shifting her bag higher on her arm. “Seventeen.”
He bowed quickly, muttering thanks, then shoved inside before he could think about what a fucking fool he was. His pulse hammered as he climbed, every step heavier with the chaos in his head.
***
When you opened the door, you weren’t expecting anyone, and least of all him.
Jungkook stood there in the dim hallway light, his leather jacket thrown on like he’d rushed out without thinking, hair mussed, chest rising and falling with uneven breath.
Your face betrayed you: shock first, then horror flickering right after, like you’d been caught.
“What are you doing here?” you squeaked, your hand still clinging to the edge of the door as if you could slam it shut again.
His jaw tightened, eyes sharp and cutting straight into you. “Why did you freeze your membership? Why the fuck did you just ghost me?” His voice was clipped, stripped down to urgency.
He didn’t give you time to deflect, didn’t waste breath pretending this was casual. He was standing here, and all he wanted was an answer.
You glanced over your shoulder, nerves buzzing at the thought of nosy neighbors. “Come in,” you muttered, pulling the door wider. “Before someone hears.”
Jungkook stepped inside without hesitation, his presence filling the small apartment.
“What’s going on, Y/N?” His voice was rough.
You crossed your arms, defensive. “Why are you acting like this? I don’t owe you anything!”
His laugh was humorless, twisting into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “What? Seriously?”
“Yes,” you shot back, your voice cracking despite your attempt at calm. Your cheeks burned hot. “It’s not like we dated or something.”
“So what?” he snapped, taking a step closer. “You think you can just leave like this? Freeze me out and pretend nothing happened? Did you really think I’d just go home, casually, and not care what happened to you? After everything?”
His voice rose, raw with hurt, and it cut straight through you.
“What is it with you and this everything?” you lashed out, words tumbling before you could stop them. “You fucked me, Jungkook. Just like you probably do with plenty of others. You never said anything different, you never asked for more.”
His chest heaved. His eyes glistened for the briefest second, but instead of letting the emotion show, he laughed again. “Seriously? This is what you think about me?”
You pressed your lips together, shaking, hating yourself for the words even as you said them. “What else am I supposed to think?” Your voice cracked, softer now. “And don’t act all offended when you enjoyed every second of it.”
“Yeah, I enjoyed it!” he shouted back, voice breaking. “Why the fuck else would I have sex with someone? Did you not enjoy it?”
The silence that followed was damning. You couldn’t make yourself answer, your face burning with shame.
Jungkook dragged a hand over his face, groaning. “What is this conversation, Y/N?” His voice lowered, exhausted. He stepped toward you, slower this time, reaching out.
You flinched, pushing him back even though your body screamed not to. You didn’t want distance, not really, but admitting that felt impossible.
He stared at you, his jaw tightening. “Are you really acting like this because you think I used you? After everything we shared?”
This time, when he reached for you again, his touch was gentler. His fingertips brushed your cheek, trembling slightly. But you turned your head away, unable to meet his eyes.
“I don’t believe that,” he said firmly, his voice shaking with conviction.
The silence swelled heavy, until you finally forced the words out:
“Suho… he suggested… us trying again.”
The words hit like a nightmare brought to life, and you saw it in him instantly. The way Jungkook’s shoulders stiffened, how his eyes darkened as though you’d just carved something out of him with a knife.
He swallowed hard, forcing his voice careful, measured, as if any wrong note might send you running. “Okay. He suggested. He was also the one who suggested breaking up. So what?”
You said nothing. The silence stretched, and in it you gave yourself away.
Jungkook’s denial kicked in sharp, a last defense. “You didn’t agree, right?” His voice was firmer now, urgent. “Not after he betrayed you, treated you like shit.”
“Stop it, Jungkook.” You pressed your palms to your temples, as if you could shut him out that way. “This isn’t your business.”
His eyes widened. “What? How is that not my business?” He stepped forward, grabbing your shoulders, shaking you lightly as if that would knock sense into you. “You think you don’t owe me an explanation?”
“Yes, Jungkook,” you spat, though your voice cracked on the lie. “I don’t owe you that. We were just satisfying our physical needs.”
The words stung you as you said them, but you forced them out anyway. “And this is between me and my husband. You wouldn’t understand.”
Jungkook’s laugh was sharp, pained, the kind that made your skin crawl. He dropped his hands, backing away, pacing toward the door. “Your husband,” he repeated, spitting the word like it was poison. “Unbelievable.”
But he didn’t leave. He turned back, eyes blazing. “I might not have played house or signed papers, but don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t understand loyalty. Don’t you dare compare me to a man who couldn’t even appreciate what he had.”
“Don’t talk about it, Jungkook.” Your voice trembled. “This is really not your place.”
His laugh turned furious, breaking into a yell. “Oh, it’s my place, Y/N. When you’re about to hand another bullet to a man who’s already shot you once? Fuck yes, it’s my place.”
“Jungkook, I had my life figured out!” you screamed back, your chest heaving. “I am a woman, mid-twenties, divorced… do you really think this is what I need?”
His expression shattered, disbelief painted raw across his face. “You can’t mean that. You’re twenty-five, not eighty. Why the fuck are you acting like your life is already over?” His voice broke, anger tangled with something dangerously close to grief.
Your throat ached as you tried to explain, but it only made everything worse. “I’ve been with him since I was sixteen, Jungkook. This is different. Everyone who’s in a long-term relationship has their ups and downs.”
He stared at you like he couldn’t believe the words were coming out of your mouth. “Is that the shit he fed you to justify cheating? And you’re repeating it like gospel? Y/N, fuck, you’re smarter than this.”
“I don’t want to continue this,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. Because if you did, if he kept tearing down your walls, you wouldn’t be able to stand it. If he listened to you, really listened, it would mean never seeing him again. Could you handle that?
“Y/N…” His voice cracked this time, soft and pleading, the word carrying everything he wasn’t brave enough to say.
You met his eyes, both of you holding the weight of it. He hated seeing you like this, breaking yourself into lies to keep him away.
You inhaled shakily. “Thank you, Jungkook.”
But he only shook his head in disbelief, lips pressed into a bitter line. Without another word, he turned and walked to the door, leaving you in the heavy silence of your own apartment.
hai! I’m back to recommend some unholy, angsty, cute, funny, mental, ugh just a lil bit of everything Jungkook fics. some are on wattpad.
𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕜𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕗𝕚𝕔 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕤 𝟙
♱ Seven Minutes in Heaven by @euno11a two-parts
Jungkook x reader
Summary: When you're dragged to an underground party by your best friend, the last thing you expect is to be thrown into a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven — especially not with Jeon Jungkook, the brooding, sharp-tongued heartbreaker with a reputation that precedes him. You barely know him. He barely looks at anyone. But behind that locked door, time slows down, sparks fly, and he's done for. You're sure he'll forget you. He does. But now he’s on a mission to figure out who “Closet Girl” is — and your friends are doing everything they can to mess with him while keeping your identity secret.
so so so cute!!! jungkook is so whipped and desperate I love him 😭
♱ Strawberries & Cigarettes by @niconiconi-30 oneshot
Biker!jungkook x model!OC
He’s Seoul’s most wanted biker—reckless, worshipped, untouchable. She’s the runway’s brightest star—disciplined, desired, untouchable. But some histories refuse to stay buried. In a city that never stops watching, their midnight rendezvous blur the line between love, lust, and self-destruction.Because when the past tastes like smoke and strawberries…
How do you pretend it never happened?
go home and get the gun 😀🔫 I am not okay after reading this. but the tension. the smut. and OCs comebacks!!! ughhh bitchhhhhhh the angst :( I didn’t expect it. but this fic was so so so gooood.
♱ Black Swan by @hobiphile completed
dancer!Jungkook x contemporarydancer!OC
summary: after a prank gone wrong in her old school, rich mean girl, min lea, dance captain of contemporary dance team ‘elite movement’, is forced to transfer to a school in the urban area of town, where she encounters a new street dance crew ‘all stars’ and bumps heads with dance captain jeon jungkook.
chefs fucking kiss. OC is a stuck up bitch and sometimes she does get annoying she deadass made me want to strangle myself. but there were times I loved her so it balanced. this story is so fucking amazing, I’m excited for the sequel. A LOT of angst and the ending had a btc crying.
♱ Still Don’t Know my Name by @dollfaceksj three-shot
neighbor!jungkook x reader
SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.
so fucking hot. smut? delicious. the sexting? hot. everything about this ff? amazing. And they are so freaked outtttt I love it. bitchhh just read it.
♱ the Pink Pill (jjk ver) by @dollfaceksj oneshot
bsf!jungkook x reader
SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.
ugh. where can I find a bsf like jk? pure fucking filth and girl I love it.
♱ Motorsport by @kimtaesan ongoing
racer!Jungkook x mechanic!oc
summary: in which a curious mechanic sneaks into an illegal racing club, only to be caught by their #1 driver.
*sigh* this story is a rollercoaster. Jungkook is such a man whore. and it’s sooo good and ik i say this to a lot of the fics I recommend but what can I say all these fics are really good especially this one.
♱ part time lover by @sketchguk oneshot
spy!Jungkook x daycareteacher/assassin!reader
summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.
so stinkin cute but also hot. really good.
note: ouuuu I love reading these ffs and sharing them to yall. more to come I promise. but since school is coming up, ya valió madre. But I’ll try to still recommend sum for yall as fast as I can .
p.s the authors that created/wrote these ffs NEED to get their ass eaten for writing such masterpieces.🤏🏽
Summary: There's no love, there are no fights with Jungkook—just a twisted addiction that keeps you crawling back. You tell yourselves it’s not toxic. After all, you never argue, never get jealous. Just fuck, lie, and slip back into the arms of the people who will never know.
this fic is *mwah chefs kiss* and bitch when I say the smut in this is hot, it’s HOT. Girl the writing too in this ugh one of my favs 😩🤌🏽
♱ The Waves by @rjkooks one-shot
surfing instructor!jungkook x f. reader
summary: After your best friend forcefully dragged you to take surfing lessons during your vacation, things suddenly took the wrong turn when a thick cloud of sexual tension spurs you and your surfing instructor. Or was it really a wrong turn?
deadass just pwp and u can never go wrong with pwp :)
♱ is you or is you ain’t (my baby) by @ki-yomii one-shot
Jungkook x reader
Summary: after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do.
I love this. I fear if I talk about this fic I might spoil it so I just won’t talk about it but I can say for sure that it’s so good.
♱ Cradle Robbers by @wintrbears three-shot
jungkook x reader
Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends since diapers, and one day you decide to hook up for the fun of it, but then you end up pregnant with your best friend's baby. Chaos ensues.
this fic is so cute omggg. Jungkook is so sweet and caring I love him. Prob my favorite fic ngl.
♱ All is Fair by @wintrbears one-shot
jungkook x reader
Summary: The Dragons, led by your brother, occupy the East side of the city while the Wolves occupy the West. There is only one rule, and technically, you didn't mean to break it. Stay away from the Wolves.
don’t have any words. I had a lot of emotions reading this story, maybe even teared up a lil. n the writing to is sooooooo good oh my
♱ Universal Thruths by @wintrbears one-shot
Jungkook x Reader, (brief) Taehyung x Reader
Summary: You took the risk of falling in love in a world where your perfect match is decided for you by the universe itself. When a name you never could've predicted appears on your wrist, you do everything you can to stop the inevitable.
Same author as the other two. *sigh* like the other two, beautiful fucking writing omg. The smut too? UGHHHHH!!! okokok ik i said cradle robbers was my fav but fuckkk! this might be taking that spot.
♱ The Beast of Busan by @trivia-yandere two-shot
Serialkiller!Jungkook x reporter!reader
summary: you’re the only reporter who wasn't scared of documenting the valentine's day crimes of jeon jungkook - a notorious serial killer known as the beast of busan.
oh my gaw.
♱ Cold Gun by @borathae one-shot
gangster!Jungkook x reader
no summary just fucking read it.
oh my fucking gaw. this is so mmhmm!! the writing. the smut. Everything. like frl what the fkn helly I have no words.
note: this is my first time posting here on tumblr (well technically not since I’ve been rebloging some fics) but i MIGHT do more recs maybe some of the other bts members cuz girlllll! I be reading some good ones but mostly I’ll be doing jungkook fic recs.
summary: well, the cat’s out of the bag— your spell backfired and now you’ve swapped bodies with your boyfriend. how will the both of you navigate the unfamiliarties of your day-to-day's? with utter confusion and a sprinkle of chaos, of course!
rating: R18+ MATURE, minors please do not interact
pairing: witch!fem reader x himbo!jk
genre(s): established relationship, 80s au, college au, slice of life, smut
word count: 8.5k +
warnings/tags: body swap trope, jungkook is insecure my babyyy, jk finds out oc's secret!, jimins personality revealed and he's a BITCH (canon, who wouldve guessed), fem! masturbation (?), groping, awkward sex scene, just overall awkward intimacy lmfao, gender swap sex, jimin x taehyung question mark question mark?? ;) this chapter is just smut and goof fr
notes: i love jimin. also if you guys want me to make a taglist for this pls comment and i'll make one moving forward!!!
soundtrack: my girlfriend is a witch - october country // more than a feeling - boston // africa - toto // like a virgin - madonna // one way or another - blondie
⋆ ࣪. masterlist ˖ ࣪⭑
<- prev | next ->
You’re sat criss-cross apple sauce in front of yourself. Or rather, in front of Jungkook.
It is very weird.
You’re smiling. Well, not really— he’s smiling. It’s like looking into an inverted mirror, and it's beginning to really fuck with you.
“Stop smiling.” You grimace, fingers lifted to rub at your temples. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”
“That’s exactly why I’m smiling.” He admits, his wide grin only tightening when he tells you so.
His eye does twitch though; his eyes rake over the body that he had been walking in for his entire life is sitting right in front of him. Jungkook had so many weird dreams, but this had to take the cake. Because this was a dream, he was almost certain of that.
“And I do not look good in the morning.”
“Awh, but baby.” You coo; it sounds weird coming out in his voice. “I think you look stupid hot in the morning, though.” You jut out your lip and blink at him cutely.
“Honey, I love you so much; really, I do, but please don’t look at me like that right now.”
Your face drops. The noise that comes out of your throat afterwards is akin to a hiss from a cat. “What's your deal, geez.” You grumble, looking down into your lap, playing with your boyfriend’s cuticles. At least now you could take care of them because he never let you before when you asked. You raise your brows. Wait, now that could be fun. You think to yourself, momentarily distracted the stress of the situation.
Jungkook has been chewing his lip raw. Truthfully, he has found it to be quite difficult to stay looking at you for long periods of time. He doesn’t want to admit it but seeing himself in the second person like this is really fucking with his psyche. He wasn’t at all like what he saw in the mirror every day. A sudden bout of insecurity comes over him whenever he notices a flaw that he hadn't before.
With that thought in mind, he turns to look at his new reflection, and no duh, you still look just as beautiful as the day he met you. He frowns at the mirror, feeling dejected.
“What’s wrong, baby?” You question, your head falling to the side as your brows lower in worry. “Don’t be sad I’m gonna fix it, okay? I Promise!” You crawl over to him, grabbing your– his? His hands that were yours in your– oh my god your head hurts.
He snorts, “And how are you gonna do that?” Raising a questioning brow at you.
Right.
You haven’t actually told him that you were a witch yet. You had been hiding it from him for good reason, and though you had trust in him to be understanding, or at the very least come around to the idea of it – it wasn’t like this was the 1800’s after all – there was still a gnawing feeling inside of you that had thought the worst. You bottom lip begins to wobble.
Jungkook shakes his head, “What? No. Baby, don’t–” Too late, your lips are already wobbling and you're starting to whimper. “Don’t cry.”
“You’re gonna hate me forever!” You wail, throwing you into your hands to sob.
“Y/N–” he grits through his teeth, tugging at your wrists to get you to look at him, “Y/N, hush babe we’ll get noise complaints.”
“You’re gonna break up with me!” You exclaim woefully.
“There is next to nothing you can do to make me break up with you, baby.” He assured you, hesitantly taking your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. You continue to cry into his shoulder, wrapping your big, strong arms around him as he consoles you. “There, there.” He pats on your back, albeit stiffly.
This was going to take time to get used to, no doubt.
“I love you, Y/N. More than anything, you are my world.” He reassures you, spoken straight from the heart. He means it too, even if he feels incredibly awkward cradling himself in your small frame. “You can tell me anything, you know that don’t you?” He pulls away and kisses your cheek, trying his hardest to look past his face looking back at him.
You sniffle, shifting your weight back on your haunches. You rub your palms nervously against your thighs that feel rock hard and muscular under your hands. You pull them away like you’ve just touched an open flame, scalding you. It feels like your worst nightmare had come true— you had become a man.
Even though it happened to be the one you’ve been dating— the one that you loved. This was okay, right? Jungkook was a man, yes, but he was your man, so it was fine!
You think.
“I guess now is as good a time as any,” your voice is shaky, and you wipe your cheeks to rid them of your tears. “Jungkook, there’s something that I haven’t told you.”
There’s a serious look on his face now as he sits up straight, a bent leg against the floor beneath him and one propped up, his arm hanging off his knee. How unlady-like. He was basically manspreading. It was distracting. You shake your head to retrain your thoughts.
“Uh, I haven’t told anyone this before…but it’s you! A-and if anyone in my life was going to understand it, it’d be you, right?” It seemed like you were trying to convince yourself rather than him.
He nods quietly, urging you to continue.
“Jungkook, I’m…well, I’m”
“Spit it out gorgeous, will ya?” He lets out an exasperated sigh. You open your mouth to reveal your secret but a pounding on the door stops you from confessing.
“Incoming!” A muffled voice bellows from behind Jungkook’s door, and soon thereafter Taehyung comes barging into his dorm room. He gives his best friend hardly any time to compose himself.
Both you and Jungkook blink up at the sandy-haired man with dumfounded expressions. You look up at him with big boba eyes, and Jungkook looks up at him with your mouth agape, lashes fluttering.
“What is this some sort of seance?” He raises his brow, tossing the football wedged beneath his arms straight at you, and it collides with your forehead with a thud.
It takes you a few seconds to process what just happened. Your lips slowly fall into a dramatic ‘u’ shape before your hand comes up to rub at your forehead. “Ow.”
Jungkook hides sinks in on himself, hiding his face with the hand that used to belong to you. That’s your body! You furrow your brows at him. Wait, why are you mad at him? This is your fault!
Taehyung snorts, hand on his propped-out hip. He points between you and your boyfriend. “What’s this about, anyway? Did I walk in on some weird sex thing or what?”
“No!” You exclaim in unison with you boyfriend, exchanging mortified glances.
Taehyung raises a brow. “I now fully believe that there is something weird going on in this room.” The intense stare he’s giving you is making you nervous. He hums, inspecting you and Jungkook with a curious glare.
Under the scrutiny of his best friend, you notice that Jungkook’s pits got sweaty when he got nervous. A detail you had never known about prior to the switch. It's something new you learn about your boyfriend, much to your dismay. It'd be kind of cute if it wasn't your armpits that had now begun to grow moist with nerves. You begin to fan yourself, tugging on your t-shirt to airrate the heat forming beneath the material under your arms.
Jungkook just splays out his legs as if everything was normal; his palms are digging into the carpet behind him, looking at you with a half-smile. It seems awfully familiar to Taehyung, that cheeky look on your face, but the expression looks out of place on your face.
“Hah!” He honks.
“What?”
“You’re not Jungkook.”
A beat of silence, oh so thick. You begin to blabber, the way you always do when you feel like you’re being held at gun point. Taehyung just looks amused at this point. “God, you’re the most terrible actress, you’re not even trying.” He snickers.
Jungkook stifles a laugh. You smack at his arm, and he gasps, rubbing at his upper up. Your usual line of target when you went to hit him.
“Babe!” He whines under his breath. “You can’t hit me! I’m a girl now, remember?”
Taehyung doesn’t have to have super good hearing to hear what Jungkook was saying. He wasn’t exactly being subtle about it. It makes this entire fiasco even funnier when you shoot him a look that’s silently asking him to stop talking.
“Now, huh?” He leans against the desk he’s standing next to.
“Do you know how insane you sound right now?” You quip. “What are you trying to get at?”
He saunters over toward the two of you, sitting down next to Jungkook. A little bit too close. In true Taehyung fashion, drops a hand onto Jungkook's thigh, sliding it up his leg. "Oi!" He yelps, pushing at his shoulder roughly. Taehyung holds his hands up in defence as Jungkook crawls over to plop himself down next you, away from the slimy, prying hands of his best friend. He shrivels up beside you like he's a worm, and has just been drowned in a bunch of salt.
Taehyung nods, flashing you a knowing smirk. “Does he know?”
“Know what?” Jungkook looks confusedly into the staring contest between his best friend and girlfriend. It's kind of intense. "Oh, this is weird as hell."
“Yeah Taehyung,” you grit. “Know what?”
Taehyung sighs, looking straight at Jungkook before he says. “I’m a warlock.”
You jaw drops open, and you forget to blink. Jungkook grabs onto your bicep, his head thrown back in laughter. When he mellows down when he notices that neither of you are laughing. And judging by how caught off guard you look, there’s something you know that he doesn’t.
How did you not figure it out sooner? Your witchy senses were usually totally on the nail and thinking about it now, it did kind of add up. He forces Jungkook to attend ren fairs like you do, because that's where witches and warlocks set up shop to purchase ingredients for spells and potions. He’s unconventional in his interests, dressed far too sleek for him to just be a regular old jock, and there's an alluring aura to him. Dark eyes, dark hair, straight posture.
Was the football playing a guise to hide his secret? It was a good one if so, even you hadn’t caught on. Perhaps you just didn’t think Jungkook could be best friends with a warlock.
It seems like he doesn’t know it himself. “You’re taking the piss.” His happy expression falls into a scowl. “This is just another one of your stupid interests, like roleplay. Right?”
“You think that’s funny? Well, I’m not the one stuck inside my girlfriend’s body, even though that’s kind of hot.”
You rear up to launch yourself at him by Jungkook holds you back. “Relax, toots. This is a good thing.”
Jungkook kneads at your shoulders the way he’d usually do when you got geared up. The sight of it makes Taehyung want to laugh because it just looks so odd, but he refrains this time. “Maybe I can help you.”
“You can?” You grumble.
“Yeah, probably.” He shrugs cooly, “Somehow? I don't know. Maybe.”
“Ugh, of course.” You groan, swatting away at Jungkook’s gentle hands. You feel like you’re going to suffocate. Jungkook pouts to himself, crestfallen at your rejection.
Suddenly, Jungkook gasps. He has an epiphany. “Wait a second.” He chimes in, looking into the side of your face that’s still glowering at Taehyung’s smug face. “Does that mean you’re a witch, babe? Is…that what you were going to tell me?”
The room is dead quiet, both eyes glued to your hunched over frame. You audibly gulp. Taehyung crosses his arms and his smirk only widens, entertained by the confrontation occurring before him.
“Holy shit, my girlfriend is a witch.” He huffs in realisation. “And my best friend is a fuckin’ liar.”
“Um, rude?”
You turn to Jungkook, shifting your weight onto your knees, sitting on your legs. “Baby, I was going to tell you I swear.”
“Was that before or after our bodies miraculously switched during the night?” He snorts, “This is like, kind of a huge thing to keep from me, Y/N.”
Taehyung let’s out low whistle, the poke makes you want to hit him. "You’ve got Jungkook using big words, man. He's totally means business right now."
You huff in annoyance, shooting him a glance that said is that really necessary?
“Before! I swear I just– I didn’t know when the right time was.” You promise, reaching for his hands but he shuffles back. Your heart sinks.
“Did you, like,” he points between you. “Do this?”
You sink into your shoulders, guilt evident in the way your head lowers between them.
“Someone’s in trouble.” Taehyung sings-songs under his breath.
“Zip it up, Taehyung.” Jungkook sighs, and he visibly pulls an invisible zip across the lips, tossing the imaginary key over his shoulder. Jungkook mutters a quiet apology as he waits on you to answer.
Truth be told, you had always found it slightly attractive whenever Jungkook was mad at you, but it’s not the case in this circumstance. You feel a little intimidated now that you realise that this is what he sees when you’re mad at him. You really are scary when you’re not happy.
Good thing you’re typically in a good mood when you’re with him.
“I’m sorry baby…” You look down at your lap. “It was just…you’re so mean to Jimin! I just wanted you to show a little empathy toward him and, and–”
“What? This is because of that dork?” He raises his voice now. “Babe, Jimin is such a little turd; you really don’t know him. Like at all.”
“See! You’re still being mean to him!” You hold out your arms, looking at Taehyung as if he’s going to validate you.
“Jimin?” He asks, “Like, Jimin Park, Jimin?”
“Yep.”
“The cute one?”
“Nah. The little blond guy from my high school, remember him?”
“Yeah, that is the cute one!”
You a disgruntled sound leaves your throat when you throw your head back. It silences their squabbling like you hoped it would. “What’s wrong with him then?” You ask when they both turn their attention to you.
“He’s been trying to jump on Jeon’s dick since they were in year 9.”
“I beg your finest pardon?” You shrill, and it makes your voice crack because it’s way too low for whatever sound you were trying to get out. Jungkook hisses in second-hand embarrassment.
You knew it! You knew Jimin had a crush on your boyfriend!
“That’s not true, babe. He’s bluffing.” Jungkook snorts, “I do, however, owe him money.” He tugs on the collar of your shirt, averting his gaze from your harsh one, fingers picking at fraying carpet.
“See? You’re not the only one with secrets around here, Y/N.” Taehyung says, but it doesn’t do much to comfort you.
“How did you wound up owing him money?” You ask him, and Jungkook lets out a long exhale as if he's even pacing himself for the story he's about to tell.
“Well…”
Jungkook was screwed. He had procrastinated on his project for so long that the entire month had come and gone, and he had less than twenty-four hours to get it done. Usually, Jungkook wouldn’t have given a toss about the damn English paper. He wasn’t a writer, he was impressively bad at it, actually. So, why was he suddenly so nervous about the deadline?
It was just, his father said he couldn’t go to the drive-in to catch a movie with his friends on Saturday night if he didn’t pass this project. He really wanted to see that screening of The Outsiders. Plus, Janet was going to be there and he had his eye on her since middle school.
The task was simple enough, is what he had initially thought. But that was a month ago now.
He had spent that entire day staring at the piece of paper with the word ‘The’ at the top of the page. It was mocking him. This was hard. He thinks he might cry; he was just a dude that played football, he wasn't built for all this academic mumbo jumbo.
Park, though? He knew his stuff.
Straight A’s, president of the student council, award winning essays? If there was anyone in this world that can write a paper in the span of a few hours, it’d be him. Naturally, that’s how he found himself sliding beside him in the cafeteria at lunch that day.
“Hey buddy.” He chirps at the blond man, throwing a tight arm over his shoulder, tightening it playfully around his neck. Jimin tenses, pauses mid bite and slowly puts down his sandwich. “I’ve got a favour to ask.”
And he had many more to ask afterwards.
Jungkook kind of owed most, if not all, his grades to Jimin.
He didn’t expect the confrontation on graduation day.
“If you want me to keep this hush-hush, you’re going to have to pay up, as well as continue to pay me from now on.”
And Jungkook promised the moment he got a job; he’d pay him back for all the help. He swore!
Here’s the thing: Jungkook hasn’t worked a day in his life.
“Um, how much do you owe him, honey?” You chuckle nervously.
“Three, four..." He looks down at his fingers as he does the math in his head. "Five grand.” And he says it so casually, like that wasn’t a fuck load of money to owe someone for doing your homework for five years.
You’re light-headed again, “Oh!” you nod as the world begins to tip over, sideways and forward. “That…that’s nice.” You flop into his lap like a cabbage patch doll.
“Does she do that a lot?”
“She did it this morning.” Jungkook nods.
“Yeah, probably shouldn’t have her playing football then.”
Jungkook hums in agreement. The two of you look down at your past out frame, still pouting, features looking distraught even when you weren’t conscious.
“Well, I guess I better hit the books. I’ll keep you posted with what I find, dig?” He bounces up, heading for the door.
“Yeah, cool.” Jungkook mumbles, completely uninterested in what Taehyung had just said. He lingers for a moment, watching Jungkook as he lightly taps at your face, blowing cool air into your face as he attempts to wake you. He rolls his eyes before he closes the door to leave the two of you alone again.
You eventually do wake up to Jungkook fanning you with a dirty magazine in front of your face, his words slow and careful as to not overwhelm you. The first thing you notice is the bikini model with tan skin and big tits, swiping it from his grip and throwing it across the room. He smiles at you sheepishly, unintentionally exposing himself.
He tells you that Taehyung was going to study the spell you cast and figure out what went wrong, or rather, what exactly you did to cause this, to happen.
Currently, you’re skimming through your boyfriends closet for something to wear; it’s almost noon and you’re glad you didn’t have any classes today, but Jungkook did and that meant you technically did have class: it just wasn't yours.
“I can’t show up to class looking like you.” He had made a good point. “I guess we’re going to have to switch lives until Taehyung fixes this.”
“I’m gonna fix it, babe. Not Taehyung.” You grouch, throwing on a blue checkered button-up on top of a slate grey t-shirt.
“Mhm, sure baby.” He hums boredly, looking at himself in the mirror, poking and prodding at his new face while he waits for you to change. “Whatever you say.”
He thinks that it’s wild that even in his body, you take forever to finish. He’s smug to know that was just you, then, not because you were a girl. “Girls always take longer to get ready, silly. It’s not just me.” You told him once; it was that one time when you had them running for 40 minutes late to dinner with his parents because you couldn’t decide if you wanted to wear blue or purple eyeshadow. He told you neither, that his mother would probably use it as an excuse to call you trashy.
“Babe?” He calls softly, you hum as you carry his beat-up, no-longer-white Nike sneakers toward the bed, sitting down so you could slide them on your feet. “I’m so lucky, y’know? You’re really the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
His words cause you to pause what you’re doing, dropping the laces you were about to tighten. You look up at him, slightly dumbfounded but flattered, nonetheless. He doesn’t even spare you a glance, just continues to admire what he sees in the mirror right now: his beautiful girlfriend.
You want to cry. Not only because your boyfriend had randomly just said the most romantic thing ever to you, but because…he seemed so calm. He seemed a little distraught when he had discovered your hidden identity, but he bounced back alarmingly quick. It was almost too good to be true.
Bending down to finish tying your shoes, you push yourself off the bed, saunter over to your boyfriend to press a kiss to his cheek. It’s awkward having to bend down to kiss him. He looks up at you with widened eyes, but you just smile softly at him. For once, he doesn’t complain about it being weird, just smiles back, pinching your nose. “Ah– Koo!” you whine, pushing away his hand and covering your nose with your palm.
“I’ll walk you to class, babe.” He tells you between chuckles. He grabs your hand, interlocking them swiftly just as usual. He also walks ahead of you and drags you along the same way he always does. It’s funny that your new, taller frame still struggles to keep up with him, but this time you’re stumbling over your boyfriends’ big feet.
“What class do you have?” You ask
“Art history with Jimin.”
“Oh!” He can just about feel your blood run cold when your grip tightens against his hand. “Great.”
You shoot daggers into the back of Jimin’s head for the entire class. Jungkook’s usual spot was apparently right behind Jimin, which had you absolutely jumping with joy.
Where you once felt pity for the boy, there’s a newfound animosity that grows inside of you toward him. You can’t help but want to blame him for this entire mess; he’s the reason you’re here! Yet deep down you know it’s mostly your fuck up. You should have been more careful; it was irresponsible of you to use magic on your boyfriend without him knowing. You mope all the way across campus with his hand tight in yours.
When you walked you the room with Jungkook in front of you, hand still in yours as you wobbled behind him like a lost puppy, Jimin had looked straight at you, his stare lingers. At first it baffled you because Jimin never looked at you. You raise a brow to acknowledge him, and he sends you a slight smile of acknowledgement on his lips before he turns his head back down to his notebook. You look at your boyfriend who doesn’t notice the brief interaction in the slightest, he’s damn near skipping toward his seat, pulling it out for you so that you can sit down. You do so reluctantly, and he pats your shoulder, kissing your cheek.
When the tutor arrives, much to your dismay, your boyfriend takes his leave. Even when you give him those sad eyes that usually make him feel bad. You only feel worse when he grins widely, sends you two thumbs up in your direction before slipping out the door like he had just escaped all his responsibilities. Oh, wait— he has.
It’s not so bad, art history you mean. It was actually rather interesting, and you wondered what it was about the class that Jungkook had disliked so much. Whether it was the reading or the essays, or both, you’d assumed his disinterest had come from sheer unwillingness to do work. You feel like Jimin is half to blame for that, coddling him through his studies like a toddler.
You’re just glad the class isn’t as terrible as he so adamantly claimed it to be. Shit, if you had known it would be this interesting, you could be helping him with his work. For free, might you add; not drowning himself in a debt he has literally zero means to pay for. He must think of Jungkook as easy money.
You blood boils at the prospect of him using your poor, blissfully unaware boyfriend. Your top lip twitches upward, narrowing your stare; they may or may not shoot laser beams into his skull with how ominous you look right now.
Jimin turns around and you fall back into your seat, straightening your posture and blinking innocently at him. “Yo…”
You shut your eyes tightly and huff in embarrassment, because what the hell was that? Yo? Jungkook has never said that. And probably never will because it sounds so stupid coming out of his mouth.
When you open your eyes again Jimin is giving you a strange look, just as you expect him to, but he doesn’t ask any questions. You sigh in relief.
You weren't to be trusted when you're a guilty woman trapped in a corner and left to ramble.
“I’m assuming you’re gonna ask me to write your essay?” He laughs lightly, as if it’s just a normal thing. But the way he leans over onto his desk with soft smile.
Oh, Park is so flirting with your boyfriend. You're so annoyed right now.
You nearly let out a growl, but you clear your throat instead. “No need. I’ve got it.”
Jimin raises a brow, “Jeon, writing his own essay?” He snorts, “The sky must be falling.”
His jab takes you by surprise. I guess you really need to stop judging the books by their covers.
“What are you gawking at, pretty boy?”
You close your mouth, your eyes widening slightly as you swallow a lump in your throat. You don’t even remember leaving it open to begin with; you suspect it was somewhere between the moment he called your boyfriend stupid and pretty boy all in the span of a minute.
“Nothing.” You furrow your brow, looking down at the desk. “Sorry.”
Jungkook was right, maybe there was more to Jimin than the poor little nerd you had initially thought he was.
You fear you’re the only one who had given Jimin a label.
“I’m more than capable of writing an essay, you know?” Your outburst comes out of nowhere, Jimin had already half turned his attention back to his desk, packing up his things since the class was coming to an end.
Jimin’s laugh is airy. He zips up his bag and flings it over his shoulder. He leans over your desk, leaning down face level. It causes you to draw back, flinching at the proximity. “All the essays you’ve handed in for the past five years have all been written by me.” He tilts his head, and you have to admit that behind the glasses, Jimin was kind of dreamy looking.
He had plush lips and piercing deep brown eyes, his blond hair was always neatly styled in a way that made him look like a prince. If your boyfriend had played for the other team, you think you’d be worried? A fire of displeasure still burns in your throat when he looks at you like he wants to kiss you. Knowing fully well that he’s looking at your boyfriend. You can hardly hide the scowl on your face, but for some reason, you don’t move.
You’d imagine Jungkook’s usual quippy-nature hadn’t allowed for this much tension to arise between them. Your eyes scan his face, wondering what he was thinking, what were his intentions with Jungkook? Had Jungkook tried to stop using him for work before? You wonder if Jimin had been gaslighting your boyfriend into feeling useless without his help; the evil, conniving little prince that he was.
“You need me, Jeon.” He raises a brow at you, his smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. You blink at him with surprise.
So, this is the way Park was going to play? Okay, you’ll bite.
“Like hell I do! Y/N likes history, so I don’t need you at all, actually.” You lean back calmly in your seat, pushing your folded arms against your chest.
“What’s your damage?” Jimin snorts, amused by the sudden burst of attitude. "So, what? Gonna get your pretty little girl toy to do her yearly charity work then?"
Your glare thins out, as if you’re giving him a warning. Jimin taps his fingers against the desk, sucking a breath through his teeth.
It was like two lions fighting over a piece of meat.
“This is how it’s gonna be, then?” He straightens up, wrapping his fingers around his bag strap, “Seems like pay days coming sooner than we thought.”
Your smug expression remains, holding his gaze. You pull one of your hands out from under your armpit, opening and closing your fist in a wave. “Buh-bye.”
Jimin just scoffs, shaking his head as he saunters out of the room.
You don’t remember the last time anyone had pushed your buttons this much.
“Mother fu–“
“Fu-huuck!”
Jungkook has never this hot in his entire life.
He hasn’t been able to stop looking at himself in the mirror since he got to your apartment; fidgeting with your keys until one eventually let him into the apartment. He had called for Jin, a few times, silently cheering once he learnt that your worm of a brother wasn’t lingering like he always seemed to be.
He’s only been here a couple of times before, the last time being when you were making out on the living room couch with the faint sound of AC/DC playing on the boombox as background noise. It was Jungkook’s choice, of course.
Jin had come sauntering into your apartment like he owned the damn place, and pretty much simultaneously shouted Jungkook out of your apartment and all the way down the street. He damn near walked him back to his dorm room with how far he had shooed him off.
Your brother was so obnoxious.
That’s why he’s so glad he’s not here; especially while he’s naked with his legs wide open, watching his reflection half-lidded as he flicked at your clit. Oh, but he felt it and, fuck the burn was so delicious. He was good at this— no wonder you were always so loud whenever he fingered you.
He thinks he’s in heaven. Like, he can watch you touch yourself and get pleasure out of it at the same time? Maybe this spell you’ve accidentally cast on him wasn’t all that bad. Not that he was really panicking about it to begin with, not like you were. He didn’t explicitly tell you this, but he loves you, so he trusts you— you were going to fix it eventually because that was just the cute little genius that you were.
Jungkook is so glad this is how his day is going so far, the idea of falling asleep in art history was a drag in comparison. This was far better.
You barge into the apartment and press your back against the door, panting as you try to catch your breath. Yes, you ran all the way here. Why you were tired when you’re wearing the body of pretty much an athlete? Beyond you, but you were wheezing like you had just ran a marathon.
It’s quiet enough for you to hear your own moans echoing through the apartment.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
You close your eyes, banging the back of your head against the door a few times. You make sure you lock the door before you tug off your boots, hopping around the living room to get the boulders off your feet. How Jungkook wore them daily was such a mystery to you, they weigh a tonne, and you feel like you’re about to float into the ceiling the moment they come off.
You let out a tired breath, tossing them by the door as you make your weigh to your bedroom. You shake your head, thinking how glad you were to be here before Jin got home from work.
It's wild that he's even left the door to your room wide open, for anyone to walk through at any moment. How careless could he be?
You try to bite down a laugh when you stand by the door, arms crossed and leaning against the door frame as you watch your boyfriend touch himself. You’re so glad he’s been productive while you were taking classes for him! He’s palming roughly at his chest, thrusting two fingers in and out of the pussy that belonged to you. You ignore the heat rising in your cheeks before you clear your throat.
“Wah!” He squeals, covering his body with his arms and hands but relaxes the moments he sees it’s you. “Don't sneak up like that, baby. You scared me half to death.” His bare chest heaves, laying down on his back. You walk yourself into your room, closing the door behind you when he asks you how class went.
You’re watching him with an expression he can’t read, not yet. “Jimin is a prick.” You murmur, stepping over him, each foot on either side of him. You look down at him; his cheeks are red, and his eyes are still slightly heavy from the aftershocks of pleasure.
“I don’t like to say I told you so.” Jungkook pouts, “He’s not that bad. I don’t really pay him much mind, plus…I kind of owe him my whole academic career.”
You drown out the sound of his voice, although not on purpose, too distracted with the current state of him. You hum, a new curiosity lingering inside of you as you shamelessly rake your eyes over the body that's yours, yet it belongs to him all the same. Your body is his, and he knows it, too.
Maybe that’s why he took liberty in praising it, even when you’re not there to experience it. Still, it makes you feel a little sad that he’d left you out of the fun.
Jungkook shifts beneath you, feeling slightly scrutinised under your darkening gaze. You’ve never seen yourself from his point of view.
“What?” He breathes out with a lop-sided grin.
“Having fun with my body, baby?” You tilt your head to the side, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
He flashes you a large grin, nodding slowly. “Mhm.” He moves to prop himself up onto his elbows to sit up, but you drop to your knees on either side of him. “Whatcha doing babe…?” He chuckles nervously.
“It’s kind of hot, that you’re playing with my body. Why’d you stop?”
Jungkook feels your bulge growing against his own crotch that you’ve lowered yourself onto. He laughs again, scratching the back of his head. "Wanted–" He swallows thickly. "–Wanted to hear about your day."
This was still kind of odd to Jungkook— while he’s so very glad you’re comfortable with yourself enough to wanna touch your body, he can’t exactly say the same for himself.
“Come on baby…I miss this.” You whine, dragging a hand up his torso, pushing the hair – that he clearly hasn’t even taken the time to brush this morning – over his shoulder. You push the urge to scold him to the back of your mind when your grope at his tits, the tits that you knew your way around more than anyone. Well, that's a lie; you think Jungkook reigned supreme in that department.
There were so many things Jungkook was good at when it came to you and your body.
His eyes shut tightly and quickly as you knead at the right one, your thumb brushing over a nipple. Jungkook sucks in a breath, coughing again. “Y/N, uh–”
You groan, swinging a leg over and plopping down on your ass next to you. You throw your head back onto your bed. “Even my dick-for-brains boyfriend won’t even have sex with me. I’m having the best week of my life.”
“Hey! That’s not very nice.” He mumbles.
“Sorry babe, I’m just... I’m frustrated! Sexually and mentally.” You roll over so your face presses into your sheets, your body flopping awkwardly, half on the ground and half on your bed.
“Well, I'm not as pretty as you to look at as you are, honey. Also…you like, have a cock. That’s my cock. I don't exactly know how to feel about that. Like, isn't that self-cest?”
You raise your head from your bed to frown at him. “Babe, you touch yourself all the time. How is this any different?”
Jungkook pouts, shrugging. You can only imagine how this expression would look paired with his big brown eyes. You missed being able to look at them without having to see your reflection. It’s not the same. “This sucks major.” You huff in defeat, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. “I hate being you.”
“You flatter me.” He drones, unamused.
“I’m like, so hard right now.” You reach for him, pawing at his arms but he at them the minute your fingers touch his arm.
“Chill out, babe.”
“You’re the ones that’s literally naked, and you were having fun without me!” You sulk, flopping your limbs about in a fit of frustration. If you weren’t upset right now Jungkook would be telling you how embarrassing it looked for a grown man to be chucking a temper tantrum. “You never do that.”
“This isn't exactly a normal situation, my love.” He deadpans.
Your fingers inch towards the hand he has pressed into the carpet, but this time he doesn’t pull away. “You don’t think it’s kind of hot?” You bite your lip, scooting closer to him.
“Oh my god, you sound like Taehyung.” He rolls his eyes. “I need to stop hanging out with him when I’ve got you around.” He allows you to lace his fingers with yours. It still gives him the same fuzzy feeling it's always given him, tugging at the strings of his heart.
“Taehyung’s been growing on me recently.” You nod slowly, looking off into the distance. Jungkook shakes his head, even though he doesn’t necessarily think of himself as cute, he still finds your mannerisms to be. That’s still his girlfriend in there— nothing was going to change that.
“Well, maybe you could sense each other’s… witchiness, or whatever.” He absentmindedly pulls your hand to his lips, peppering kisses over your knuckles. Second nature, he supposes.
“No, it's more like..." You click your tongue in thought. "Taehyung is unapologetic about his entire existence; it’s kind of admirable.” You correct him, “I literally had no idea he was a warlock.”
That makes two of us, then. He thinks to himself. Jungkook hums, looking at the sight of you both in the mirror, your head against his shoulder, rubbing the back of your hand against his lips. “I should put some clothes on, kind of getting cold.” His body reacts as such, pebbled nipples, goose bumps; but he’s not certain if it’s because he’s actually feeling the temperature drop.
You look up at him with glimmering eyes. “I can keep you warm, Koo.” Your tone is suggestive, but your expression feigns innocence. You were so confident in yourself you were willing to have sex with yourself. That was what Jungkook had found sexy about all of this, and even though he was a little scared of having to look himself in the face while you fucked, he allowed you to connect your lips with his.
He still overpowers you, still takes the lead like he always does. A loving kiss turns slowly into one of desire, only pulling away so he could let you climb onto the bed. You lay flat on your back, eyes raking his body as he climbs over you, his arms propped up beside your head. Plain old missionary style.
Jungkook felt like a fucking virgin right now.
“I don’t…know what to do, babe.” He admits shyly, his breaths entangling with yours, letting his face hide in the crook of your neck.
“Just do what you always do, make me feel good.” You smile him, it works to soothe him. “You’ve always been great at that.”
You intend for the words to encourage him, but it only makes him feel more nervous. Yeah, Jungkook was confident in bed; when he was in that body with his cock and balls that he’s been navigating his way through life with, that is.
Now, in your fragile, vulnerable body with sensitive tits that currently felt so heavy against his chest, and a pussy that he only knew how to touch on because of you? Yeah, Jungkook was feeling a little intimidated by the whole fiasco.
You sigh, “This is weird for me too, Kookie.” You assure him. “But I don’t care if you’re a girl or a boy or a fucking flying walrus— you’re you and I love you and nothing will ever change that. The person I fell in love with? He’s in here.” You poke at his chest.
God, Jungkook was so in love with you. He can’t help but finally feel proud of himself for once because he had done good, he had picked the most perfect woman– witch?
Yet another thing he’s had to come to terms with. Still, his love for you remains as solid as a rock.
“If it helps, you can close your eyes. Just…I need you, Koo. Want you.” You beg, pressing your needy lips against his neck. He sighs. “You can grab your– my tits. Think of me while you fuck me, baby.” You chuckle awkwardly trying to navigate the situation. The awkwardness doesn’t stay too long when Jungkook pushes himself up, straddling you, closing his eyes like you suggest.
His hands glide up his body, brushing against his chest, all the way up until his raking his fingers through the soft hair on his head. It reminds him of you, and it riles him up. He does an experimental roll of his hips against your groin, and you moan, urging him to do it again. The sensation is new, but it feels good all the same. Just different from what you’re used to. “I don’t know what to do either.” You finally admit.
He cracks an eye open to look at you. You’re looking down at where his hips meet yours, where your evident bulge is pressing against his heat. It feels so tight, and you can feel yourself throbbing beneath your jeans. Jungkook grunts, closes his eyes again.
“I’ll guide you through it baby; unzip 'em, take it out.” He taps pinches the thick material of your jeans while simultaneously grabbing at your breasts, rolling the mounds in his palms. Your little hands don’t quite fit over them like his do.
Your shaky hands unzip the jeans, raising your hips slightly to push the clothing down just enough to grab onto your boyfriend’s dick. You hiss, twitching upward at the contact; wow this thing is mega sensitive. Shit. Jungkook snickers at your reaction. “Got it?”
“Mhm…”
“Okay,” he moves onto his knees, hovering over your erection. “Put it in.”
His brows are furrowed, like he’s anticipating the worst. He’s such a little buzzkill. You bet you can fuck him out of the shell he’s crawled into since you’ve swapped bodies. “Are you wet enough?” You ask, guiding the tip to glide against his folds.
“I-” He hisses, “I think so.”
You know that he is, you can feel it. His shyness was awakening something in you that you’re not sure what to call. You were so used to getting railed by him, but this— this was a whole new feeling altogether.
You grab his hips, lowering him onto your cock. He whines; breathes so heavily you think he might explode. Your boyfriends never been filled like this before; he was usually the one doing the filling. “Woah, okay. Wait, babe– shit.”
“Does it hurt?”
He shakes his head rapidly; his face contorts in pleasure.
“Feel good, baby?”
He nods, biting down on his bottom lip. He pushes him down to the hilt, and he throws his head back, squeezing at the tender tits he’s found so much comfort in the past 24 hours. His emotional support tits— you snort at your own stupid thoughts.
“What’s funny?” He grumbles, and you moan when he tenses around your length.
“Nothing, babe. You just look so cute on top of me like this.”
He turns his head, even with his eyes closed, but he can’t hide the pink that paints his cheeks. “You gonna fuck me, Koo? Or will I have to flip you over and do it myself?”
Jungkook whimpers.
You raise a brow, “You want me to fuck you?”
The shyest, faintest nod greets you. A low moan escapes your lips. Your boyfriend climbs off your lap, laying on his bag as his arms hug at his chest. You move over him and guide yourself back into him. You feel so powerful.
And fucking all things holy— he’s so warm and tight.
You give him a kiss once you start to find a rhythm, and Jungkook chews on his lip, biting it raw, the faintest sounds escaping him. What a sight. What a feeling. This was so odd, yet it all just felt so right.
Everything you did with Jungkook felt right.
Especially when he lets you love him like this, even when he was reluctant before. He opens up though, even opens his eyes and praises you as you make him cum. He even asks for another round, riding you properly this time with his hands on your chest, a moaning mess on top of you.
You’ve never felt closer to him.
Jimin’s palms are sweating, he’s paced the front door to Jungkook’s dorm for almost five minutes now. It’s early, so he’s probably sleeping. Should he wait? Maybe he should wait. The thought of him answering the door all groggy and messy-haired makes his chest feel tight. He sucks in a breath, balling his right hand into a fist, letting it hover over the door before he just does it, he bites the bullet. He knocks.
He wasn’t wrong, about the half-asleep man that greets him when the door swings open. It’s not Jungkook, though.
Taehyung looks over Jimin’s head, humming in confusion as he fluffs out his hair.
“Oh, it’s you.” He glowers, craning his neck slightly to make eye contact with the brunette.
“Hey there.” He husks tiredly, a charming smile gracing his features.
Jimin visibly cringes at the lack of subtly. “Where’s Jungkook? I need to speak with him.”
“Probably sleazing it up with his girl. He didn’t come back to the dorm last night, if I’d have known, I would’ve invited you over sweet cheeks.”
Jimin scoffs, raising a brow. “I'm not overly fond of flattery.” His words come out dry.
“Ah. You know my name! I’m blushing.” He beams playfully, his muscles bulging as he lifts his arm, holding onto the door frame above his head.
Jimin’s instincts fail him, his eyes trailing up just a moment to catch a glimpse of the sight of his honeyed skin. “Just tell Jeon I need to see him. He owes me something.” He turns on his heels then, clutching the thick hardcover book in his arms tighter to his chest.
“Hold on, wait.” Taehyung grabs onto the handle on the back of his bag, stopping Jimin in his tracks.
“Don't have the time, nor do I particularly want to chat with you, Taehyung.” He looks over his shoulder with a dead glare, “I only came to see Jungkook.”
Taehyung lets out a humourless chuckle, letting Jimin go. He takes off immediately, turning the corner, out of his sight.
Why is everyone so obsessed with Jungkook?
Taehyung wasn’t jealous of his best friend. No, that wasn’t it. Surely not. Was it? Jealous wasn't even in his vocabulary, and Jungkook had never done anything to make him feel less than; he even indulged him in his delusions and his stupid excursions to strange places.
He’s surprised he never noticed the theme, witchcraft shops, old thrift stores, renaissances fairs and psychics at the local carnival. Jungkook was just happy to tag along, even if he did whinge and whine the entire time about how lame it was and how he was so bored. Taehyung knew that wasn’t true because every time he looked over his shoulder, Jungkook had always found something to occupy himself.
He flops back down into his bed, where his spellbook lays opened on the empathy spell page that he had been studying the night before. He huffs, whacking it shut, tossing it onto his bedside table. His mind traces back to the information he had gathered once he had gone over the page.
Air-head boyfriend meets impatient girlfriend. Boyfriend is stupid in love with his witch girlfriend who doesn’t even bother to read more than a paragraph of a spell she wants to place on her boyfriend. To make him nicer? To one person? A person she doesn’t even know, no less. If you weren’t a woman, Taehyung would slap you silly for this. He makes a mental note to give you a stern talking to about your use of magic and how careless you’re being with your abilities. Your gifts.
Not knowing that this was the first time you’ve ever used magic, how hard you’ve been fighting your identity. You never wanted to be a witch.
You just wanted to be normal.
But you didn’t even read the fine print? That was such a rookie mistake; witch or not, you should always read the fine print! Taehyung shuts his eyes, those words appearing behind his lids.
Using the potion can have adverse effects if not used in the vicinity of target situation.
In a coke can in his dorm right before you got a condom stuck up your vagina.
Please use the verbal spell to target the mind, potion is to be used for physical changes only.
Two versions of the empathy spell? A fool proof one and one that had the chance to go completely awry—
Well? did you even read the damn thing?
Not suitable for beginners.
Taehyung turns into his pillow, groaning loudly. He was so sure he’d have to be the one to fix this, and it had to be soon; they had football practice in two days, and although it’d be absolutely hilarious to watch you flail around the field like a fish out of water, he wouldn’t want you to injure yourself. Jungkook would fucking kill him.
“I need a drink.” He grumbles to himself, even though it’s only 10:30 in the morning, never mind the fact he literally rolls over and falls back asleep not even a minute later.
Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi
Summary:
You love everything about social media - apart from the ever-growing number of social media influencers. You don't understand how these people gain followers and admirers just by installing a camera and doing very basic things in front of it. And you despise how some of them can do anything to gain fame, to be popular - even if it includes uploading their bedroom scene in pornsites aka people like Jeon Jungkook.But when your company launches a new product and your department head tasks you with signing Jeon Jungkook up as an endorsement partner - you have no choice but to chase him like the corporate slave that you are. However, things turn worse when you embroil in a dating rumor with him and have to keep the game going for the sake of everything.is it really for the worse or things will turn in a way you never expected it to?
Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.
Full Series Word Count: 26k
Chapter word count: 5k+
Warnings: tiny flirting, argument, that's all.
Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)
Taglist requests are open.
Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.
Only twice in your life did you have the need to sign contracts.
First time was your employment contract, the second time was your house lease contract.
The third contract turns out to be something that you didn’t even have the wildest dreams about - a dating contract.
That too, with a person you seemingly get irked by very often.
You have gone through the documents almost every day this past week, so much so that now you can recite the terms and conditions as fluently as your phone number.
The contract is pretty standard if you are being honest. There is only one term that you added: “Kisses are not allowed”. And it seems like both Seokjin and Jungkook have no issues accepting your only term.
However, your hands feel clammy all of a sudden when you are about to sign the papers. The thoughts of being under the limelight scares you.
And being Jeon Jungkook’s girlfriend means a lot of limelight in social media.
“You okay?” Kim Seokjin asks, perceiving your hesitation in signing the papers.
“Yeah.. I am just.. You know… don’t know what to expect from all these.” you voice.
Seokjin places an assuring hand on top of yours, with a little squeeze he says, “you can trust me, Y/N. I will do my best to keep your private life private. Jungkookie is not a bigshot anyway but yes I know there are risks of privacy breach, which will be my department to handle.”
You feel an odd sense of relief injected by the man’s silver voice.
But it seems like you spoke too soon because, “what’s up you two?” Jungkook appears from nowhere. He eyes the place where Seokjin has his hand on top of yours and narrows his eyes at you.
“You are late.” Seokjin directs his authoritative voice towards Jungkook. Jungkook sits down on the chair beside him and starts chugging down water. His Adam's apple bobs like a sin.
You distract yourself from the scene by signing the papers finally.
“Now it’s your turn.” Seokjin extends the paper towards Jungkook, who without a second thought takes it and signs it.
For a moment you wonder how he manages to stay disconnected from every worry?
You are as much of a stranger as he is to you. But still, he didn’t hesitate to sign like you did. Maybe this is another reason why you dislike Jeon Jungkook? Because he gets to be care-free while you have to care for every single move you make.
See for an instance - once you dared to pull an act of bravery and it landed you on a dating deal with Jeon Jungkook.
How fucking funny!
Your fingers tap on your laptop keyboard as you open the email sent by Jungkook’s agency. It’s a full fledged schedule for your and Jungkook’s first month of appearance.
And that starts tomorrow.
As for tomorrow, you will have to visit a cozy cafe with your supposedly boyfriend and get caught by paparazzi. Once you become talk of the media then the company will go ahead and publish an official statement.
Things will continue like this for five months. During the sixth month your appearances will slow down and at the beginning of the seventh month, the agency will confirm the break up.
Sounds pretty clean.
During these seven months Jungkook will be done with the endorsement deal with your company as well. Hence, there is no need of working with him afterwards, which is a pleasant news to be honest.
So now that you are already in the mess, you should as well taste the water and see what it brings for you.
“You sure will be okay with it? Do you want me to tag along and keep an eye?” Jimin’s concerned voice rings in your ear.
You are so thankful that the universe gifted him to you in the form of a best friend. From high school till now, there was hardly a day when Jimin didn’t text you, asked what you were up to, let you know what he was doing.
He is that one friend who never got away.
“I will be fine. Don’t worry. Go and enjoy your time, do something fun.” you add. No matter how tempting his offer is, you don’t want him to ruin his Sunday to look after you while you are on a playdate.
“But Y/N-”
“Jimin, I will be fine! I will keep updating you, okay?”
He sighs on the other side making you chuckle. “Okay. but do keep me updated.”
“Yes. appa. Yes.”
You check yourself once upon cutting the call.
Yeah, you look presentable. Hopefully paparazzies won’t have any issues with your sober dressing sense.
Once again your head bobs in the direction from where Jungkook’s car should be emerging. But you find none.
He is late.
Great. Another reason to hate Jeon Jungkook.
Just when you are about to pluck your phone out and throw a text towards him, you hear the rumbling sound of an engine.
More specifically the sound of Jungkook’s bike.
He comes to stop where you are standing under a bus stop shade and extends a helmet towards you.
You are way too busy grasping that you miss the object being offered to you.
“Do I have to ride this with you?” you point at his bike.
“It’s called a bike. And yes, you are going to ride it with me.” Jungkook thrusts the helmet towards you again.
“Thanks for letting me know what it is called. But are you sure I will be in functioning condition by the time we reach?”
“Don’t worry, my dear girlfriend, I will take care of ya.” he gives you a cheesy grin.
If something flips inside your chest, then it’s better to put off the subject and focus on the fake date ahead.
So, you put on the helmet, hop on his bike, and place your hands on his shoulders.
“Be careful, it's hot down there. Spread your legs a little more.” Jungkook warns.
You know, it’s about the bike but the implications of his words sets your face on a battle of blush.
Managing your gut and composure you reply with an affirmative sound.
“Did you… cut your hair?” Now that Jungkook has stripped off his helmet and is sitting relaxed before you, you can see the difference in his hairstyle from what you saw yesterday.
“Yeah. All by myself. I even live streamed it. How do I look?” You can see Jungkook’s face lighting up as soon as you mention his new hairstyle.
“You look like a twelve year old. Cute.” and you are genuine with your words. He looks less mischievous and certainly not like someone who would fuck on camera.
The tip of his ears turn pink when he registers your compliment.
Clearing his throat a little he says, “what should we order?”
“A flat white for me. And that cheese cake, strawberry one.” you say, awkwardly peeking at the menu, which is currently under Jungkook’s scrutiny.
You hear him chuckling and when you follow that sound, you find him staring down at you. His crinkled eyes, baby-like fringe, bunny-teeth on display and that beautiful smile makes him look like a completely different person.
He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you used to dislike.
And that spreads something warm under your skin. You start smiling at him without noticing yourself.
“Isn’t that Jeon Jungkook?” a second female voice comes from a little distance.
“Oh my god. Yes. and who is he with? Isn’t he dating that bully girl? Doona or Dana?”
“What? No. didn’t you see his viral videos from the club? That girl is his rumored girlfriend. They seemed to have a fight that night but I guess they are good now?”
“Oh really?”
Even though the spectators are trying to be discreet and silent with their gossip, they are anything but.
When you look in their direction, your eyes lock with one of them. She quickly turns away and types something on her phone.
Something reaches out for your hand that is placed on the table top.
It’s Jungkook’s own hand.
He wraps his big palm around yours and interlaces his fingers with yours. With a sickeningly sweet smile he says, “the act has started, we should jump into characters now.”
You tighten your fingers around him and reply, “of course we should.”
However, you are still unsure about where you will be after six months of this play. Will you be friends with Jeon Jungkook? Or will you end up being more?
“But how did you let Kim Doona come between you two if you were seeing each other?”
By the time you and Jungkook managed to come out of the cafe that day, it was already a mess. At least ten different people were trying to get your face properly, five others were trying to get a shot of your and Jungkook's intertwined hands and others were clicking pictures not-so-secretly.
By the time you were home, your photos were all over Jungkook’s fandom’s insta profiles.
And when the bomb (aka the official statement from the agency) dropped, your phone flooded with questions after questions.
You didn’t answer any.
Nonetheless, the questions reappeared, this time directly, as soon as you stepped into your workplace on Monday.
And this question in particular - it was the mostly asked one and you were ready for it.
Your colleague nudges you again, “come on, tell me, why did you let him fuck the other girl if you were dating him?”
“I wasn’t dating him back then.” you reply confidently, of course you had your own share of practice. “We used to be friends. But you know… friends with feelings. So yeah.. I was kinda pissed at him.”
She makes an O shape with her mouth.
“Is that why you lashed out on him during the meeting? I mean I heard that you…” she doesn’t end her sentence.
These people really work less and gossip more. You nod.
“Who confessed though? You or him? Oh- wait! Did you confess at the club? Is that why you two were seen fighting?” she throws her rapid-fire questions at you.
But you are pleased. It worked out the way you wanted. You didn’t have to tell the story, she completed it all by herself.
“Yup.” you popped the ‘P’ very enthusiastically.
“Wow! You are living a fan-fiction, girl, a proper friends to lovers au.” she squeals in her seat, “mind if I post the story on my insta? I wanna use my colleague privilege card.”
You think for a moment. If she spreads the story herself, it will be better for you. You won’t have to recite it all again and again. So you murmur a little “go ahead” and let her click a selfie with you.
Your computer dings with a notification from Yoongi. He is asking you to come to his cabin.
Great. Another round of interviews.
“I just checked the campaign schedule. It’s efficient as always. Good job, Y/N.” Yoongi’s praise brings a smile to your lips.
You murmur a little thank you with a small smile playing on your lips.
Every time Yoongi praises your work, your insides flip. But sometimes you wish for those praises to come as ‘you look good today’, ‘your dress looks nice’ and stuff like that.
Even though that brings a sinking feeling temporarily, that doesn’t stay for long.
“By the way..” it’s coming, it’s coming, “how did you and Jeon Jungkook end up together? As much as I can assume, you two met each other during the meeting for the first time.”
This. This is not what you prepared yourself for.
You didn’t think Yoongi would be too interested in knowing your relationship history, so you wouldn’t have to explain anything to him. But not only is he interested, he seems to be pretty observant of things as well.
Now you can’t tell him the fake story you just told your colleague nor can you tell him that the entire thing is fake.
So you clear your throat, “it just…. Happened.”
“Just happened? You seemed to be pretty livid about his existence that day?” your cute manager gives you a lopsided smile.
“But then you sent me behind him, to convince him or whatever. And things happened.” you turn your confidence up yet again.
He quirks a brow at you, “things happened after that club incident, huh?”
He is right. But not the way he is thinking himself to be right.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” you reply, as you collect the files with the details of the campaign and proceed to leave his cabin.
“The photoshoot starts next week, don’t be lovey-dovey on the set.” he teases you on your way back.
You only roll your eyes at the door.
Second fake date is: hanging out at a bar after work.
But you don’t drink on weekdays.
So that lands you on a negotiation and the date is fixed on the Friday of the same week.
You wait for Jungkook at the entrance of your work complex, a place where people would be able to see you getting on his bike very clearly. A strategy to make things public.
But what comes to pick you up is not a bike but a car.
A sleek black car that makes heads turn as it comes to stop in front of you.
For a moment, you think the driver is mistaking you for someone else.
But then the diver’s door opens and Jungkook comes out, wearing a black buttoned down with a pair of ripped jeans.
Your eyes are now the size of saucers.
You once gulp as you see Jungkook smiling brightly at you.
“Hey baby. Sorry I’m late. Let’s go.” he says sweetly. And you wonder how good of an actor he is.
“H-hi. It's okay. Yeah, let's go.” you reply in haste, trying to school your dumbfounded expression.
You let him lead you inside the car with a hand on the small of you back. He lets every passerby see his face, under the street lights, as if he is very proud showing you off.
Fake. It's fake. You remind yourself.
“You know, you are a good actor.” you voice your thoughts once Jungkook settles inside the car,
He chuckles, “yeah? Learned from Jin hyung. He used to be an acting major. Have been seeing him acting to be polite with his shareholders for all the years.”
The fondness in his eyes at the mention of the other male is so clear. You can’t help but smile. You have perceived the same glow on Jin’s face too.
“You two really adore each other, don’t you?”
“Yeah. You can say that. I would be wandering around the streets of Busan if it wasn’t for him.” you hear the underlying darkness in his voice and decide to poke no further on this matter.
“So, you are telling me that you made this story all by yourself? And this actually ended up making sense?” Jungkook is pointing at his phone, which has your colleague's insta post plastered on the screen.
“I told you. I am good at my job. Moderating success stories is a part of our marketers’ job.” you shrug. Your shoulders are already a lot loose after a few drinks.
Your head is on the cloud.
You feel good.
And Jungkook is being less cocky today, which is helping you relax even more.
Jungkook hums, “Great. The act is going well so far.”
Jungkook starts scrolling on his phone again, focusing on something very hard. After a moment of silence he says, “I won’t lie, we look good together.”
There is a smug smile playing on his lips.
You groan, “I thought you quit being cocky for this evening.”
“Hey! I am not being cocky. Look at these photos.” he protests, poking his phone towards you.
“I have seen those, Jungkook. And I don’t think I look good with you. You and I are totally two different individuals, from every single aspect. You match with someone like.. Like Kim Doona.”
Jungkook’s eyes shut for a second, “there is no point of saying this now. I missed my shot with her because someone decided to barge in my perfectly comfortable and peaceful life.”
“Wait. You had a thing for her?” you sit up straight on your chair.
“I still do.” Jungkook empties his glass in a sip.
You would have fought him and told him how you saved from a prolonged controversy, but you are feeling light-headed. You are feeling good. So you will be nice for just once.
“Well… I am sorry then. I know how it feels to have an unrequited crush.” you sigh, recalling Yoongi’s pretty face, “sorry.”
Jungkook seems to be caught off-guard with your changed demeanor.
“It’s okay.” he adds, “you have a crush on that manager, don’t you?”
The fuck?
“How the fuck do you know this now?” your eyes go big for the second time today.
“Come on, Y/N. Anyone with eyes can tell. The way you stiffed when he caught you and me at the parking lot.” he giggles.
“Ok. That's enough. Let’s go home. I feel sleepy.” you stand abruptly from your chair, swaying a little (thanks to the alcohol in your bloodstream).
Jungkook stands up too, wraps a hand around your bicep and mutters a small ‘careful’ in your ear.
“By the way… don’t you think you have to call a designated driver?” you ask on the way out of the bar.
“Jin hyung has us covered.” he shrugs.
On the way back home you look at the fleeting landscapes out of the car window. For some unknown reason… you feel upset.
You had a pretty good evening. No matter how much you hate to admit it, Jungkook is a fun company.
You two would bicker endlessly, then would slip into serious topics like economy and politics, and then all of a sudden you would talk about your favorite drinks.
He really doesn’t seem like that Jungkook you used to dislike.
But there is something that’s bothering you. And you can’t put a finger at it.
The car comes to a stop in front of your apartment. You wave a quick goodbye to Jungkook, who has been busy on his phone all the way back, and climb out of the car.
As you take small swaying steps towards your entrance, you hear the car door shutting loudly and then in turn Jungkook’s voice, “won’t you give me a goodnight kiss, girlfriend?”
You don’t know what possessed you. It can be the alcohol, can be your bad judgment, can be the sinking feeling in your chest and the desperate need of feeling something, anything - that makes you turn around.
You march towards Jungkook without thinking twice, standing chest to chest with him.
All the mischief drains from his face when you grab him by the collar of his shirt and smash your lips on his.
It should have been over in a second or two.
But what's worse is that Jungkook is pulling you close by your waist and deepening the kiss already.
Hope you don’t regret this when you are sober.
There were twelve terms in your dating contract.
You added one.
And you breached that very one.
The screen of your phone goes blank as you groan again for the nth time. Every time you open Instagram, all you see is you kissing Jungkook standing on the damn fucking road!
You two were being followed by the paps that night, which was obviously a part of the plan, and you, being clearly too drunk to think straight, kissed Jeon Jungkook on his lips!
And now those photos are circulating like wildfire.
Jimin texted you, asking for a clarification.
Seokjin texted with three teasing thumbs up.
And Jungkook texted with probably a thousand of ‘ㅋ’s.
All you want now is for the ground to split in half so that you can jump in there and die. That’s the best possible solution for whatever the fuck is going on in your pathetic excuse of a life.
Your phone dings with another notification and you swear to turn it off if it’s another mention in another insta post or another threatening DM from Jungkook’s crazy fans.
But it seems like the universe is trying to be even more cruel with you, because it’s a reminder of your schedule for the day - which is another date day with the root of your problems - Jeon Jungkook.
And today, you will have to spend time at his home, click pretty selfies and photos together highlighting how domestic you two are and post those in social media from both ends.
When you are about to go back groaning, you receive another notification.
It’s a text from Seokjin, “the car will be there in an hour.”
“Welcome to my home, girlfriend.” Jungkook grins stupidly as he spots you at his door. You really want to grab a frying pan and bang it on his stupidly round head.
“Don’t call me that when there’s no one to hear.” you reply grumpily walking inside Jungkook’s luxurious apartment.
You really want to know how much these influencers make monthly to afford an apartment like this.
“I call you that for you to hear, baby.” His cheesy remarks are just too much to take, so you just roll your eyes at him.
“Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee? Juice? Or maybe a kiss?” there he goes.
This is what you were dreading! The moment you were sober enough to judge your actions, you knew Jungkook will be having a field day the moment he sees you.
And here you go.
But but but - you aren’t alone in this. You definitely kissed him first but he, too, kissed you back. So he needs to go down with you.
“Oh why not, you definitely liked kissing me a little too much.” you bite back. But your words don't affect Jungkook at all. The smirk that he was sporting doesn’t go anywhere. It only grows more sinister.
“Of course I did. Are you telling me you didn’t?”
Now this is another thing that you were dreading to admit - that you actually enjoyed kissing him. His lips felt good on yours.
But you have been trying to convince yourself that it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your veins, even though you know it’s nothing but an excuse.
“Shut up!” you huff, hoping that Jungkook doesn’t notice the sudden rush of red on your cheeks, “let’s take some photos so that I can leave.”
“What?” Jungkook is now genuinely confused and you can see it on his face, “Do you really want to leave? I thought we were cooking together? I decided to live stream it.”
“Me and live stream? Are you kidding? There was no mention as such on the schedule plan?” you are sure all the colors of your face have drained with just one mention of a live stream.
You hate being the center of attention.
“Yeah but I improvised just as you did last day by kissing me.” Jungkook shrugs.
Where the fuck is the frying pan?
“Okay. I am leaving. Bye.” you haste towards the door.
Jungkook giggles like a baby, grabbing your wrist and stopping you mid-tracks.
“Okay okay. I am sorry. I promise not to tease you anymore if you say yes to the live stream.”
“You promise?” you quirk an eyebrow facing him.
“I promise.”
You don’t even know if saying yes to Jungkook’s improvisation was a good idea or a bad one.
There are reasons it’s both good and bad.
Good because Jungkook is not teasing or unnecessarily being smug with you anymore. Bad because he is hovering way too close to your body for you to keep being sane.
The kitchen is big enough, but half of the space is being used to put down cameras and a laptop. On top of that you two have to be crammed in a small space where both of your figures are being perfectly visible to the viewers.
You are mostly quiet, playing your part, cooking as you are supposed to.
But Jungkook is in his element.
He is so natural in front of the cameras that it feels as if he was born to do so.
Jungkook interacts with the viewers, reads their comments once in a while, smiles, laughs, and makes jokes. Under the light and darkness of the kitchen - he looks so youthful, so radiant that you feel a weird coil in your chest.
Whenever he brushes past you, you get a whip of his perfume - an earthy, woody tone with a hint of citrus.
His hair falls on his eyes - unmade - unlike all the other times you have seen him.
This - whatever this is - you don’t like it.
“Why is your girlfriend being so silent?” Jungkook reads a comment from the laptop. You pay half mind to him, occasionally smile a little.
But within a moment, Jungkook slides behind you.
He puts his big-ass hands on your waist, places his face on your shoulder and says, “baby, why are you being so silent?”
If you are seeing things right then his lower lip juts out while he tries to coax an answer out of you.
Your heart starts beating abnormally fast.
“O-oh.. I- It’s my first time being in a live stream… so yeah.” you proceed to flip the omelet, focusing on the food and food only.
You release the breath you were holding when he finally removes himself from you.
You are now seriously afraid of the outcome of this fake dating contract of yours.
“Hate to say this but” you take in a deep deep breath “this is actually very delicious. Good job." You point your chopsticks at the carbonara that Jungkook prepared.
“Really?” he seems to be taken aback with your compliment “Thanks. Glad that you like it.”
“By the way, you remember you have a shoot with us tomorrow, right?” you change the topic to a more serious one.
“I do. Will your crush slash manager be there too?” his eyes stay boring in the carbonara. You honestly don’t know why Jungkook is curious about Yoongi all of a sudden.
“Probably. Why though?”
“Will try not to piss him off while acting.” he shrugs.
You scoff at that “he won’t be pissed. He doesn’t reciprocate, you know.”
“Are you sad about that?” Jungkook’s tone is a tad bit softer now.
“Not really. It’s not that I am in love with him or something. It’s a stupid crush, and will go away with time.”
“Have you ever tried asking him out?”
“Not really.”
“Then, have you ever asked him to hook up with you?”
You choke on your omelet.
“What- the fuck” you cough “no! Why would I ask him something like that?”
“Why won’t you though? Don’t you want to have sex with him? I mean you like him, it’s only natural.” Jungkook explains matter-of-factly.
“No. it’s not natural for me. I need to be at least friends with a person to have sex. And I am not friends with Yoongi. We barely even talk out of work.”
“Oh.” Jungkook thinks for a moment “So that guy friend of yours - what was his name again… Jimin? Is he your…”
“Oh my god, Jungkook! No! I am not currently sleeping with anyone. I have not had sex for like eighteen months.” It's your frustration which is speaking now.
“What? Wait! What are you? A nun?” Jungkook’s eyes go wide at your admission.
Embarrassment eats you away, like you were eating the carbonara a few minutes ago, “I- I mean. I am not that horny.”
“Then… Do you want to sleep with me?”
At first you think you misheard it. So you stare at Jungkook with big eyes.
His expression is rather serious and you hate how it affects you.
“What did you just say?” you finally let your voice be heard.
“You heard me.”
“Jungkook, please stop kidding. This is not funny.”
“I am serious.” he sighs.
“Look. I can’t go around and sleep for fun since we have an act going on here. You, too, seem like you need to blow off some steam. And honestly, tell me where is your benefit from all these? It’s your company that’s ripping the fruit, not you.”
Jungkook’s words register in your brain. He makes perfect sense. You have no benefits whatsoever from all these.
“It’s just an offer, you can decline it if you want but… we can- we can have some fun like adults. No one has to know, nothing will get fucked up since we are not even close to begin with.” Jungkook reasons.
He is right. You have nothing to lose if things go down and this won’t be the first time having casual sex with someone you know. There is absolutely no risk, no feelings on the line.
Should you really consider the idea?
The scenes from that grainy video start clouding your brain.
A tiny voice in your mind says, “why not?”
read the full series right away on Patreon!! (Start from part 7)
Pairing: Prince!Hoseok × Racer!Reader
Word Count: ~7k
Tropes: Secret identity, enemies/rivals to lovers, forbidden romance, intense smut, angst, fluff
Kinks: Car sex, garage sex, light bondage, dirty talk, hand on throat, masking/unmasking tension
Warnings: Explicit 18+ content, dangerous driving, injury, emotional intensity, power dynamics
The ballroom glitters like a jewel, chandeliers sparkling overhead. You’re miserable, dragged to this fancy charity gala by your sponsor—a slimy guy with a fake grin—for “publicity.”
You’re an underground racer, not some polished princess. Your black dress clings tight, showing off your back, but you’d rather be in your leather jacket, burning up the track. Sipping flat champagne, you roll eyes at the rich crowd, hating every second.
You lean against a pillar, eyeing the monarchy. They’re everything you despise—spoiled, fake, useless. Especially him, Prince Jung Hoseok. He’s across the room, looking sharp in a wine colored suit, dark hair neat, smile polite but distant. You roll your eyes. Just a pretty puppet, probably never touched anything real in his life.
You turn to the bartender, who looks as bored as you. “Bet that prince can’t even ride a scooter, let alone handle a real car,” you say, smirking.
The bartender snickers. “Probably rides in a fancy carriage instead.”
You laugh, loud and sharp, not caring who hears. But Hoseok does. He’s with some stuffy nobles, but your voice cuts through—scooter, real car, fancy carriage.
His lips twitch, not with anger but with something hotter. He knows who you are. Whispers of the underground racing scene reach even the palace, and he’s heard of you—the fierce driver with a mouth as fast as your car.
Your fire, your defiance, the way you mock him without a second thought—it sets something alight in him. You’re a challenge, and he’s already hooked.
Hoseok’s no stranger to the racing world. By night, he has tried racing often, in disguise, tearing up the same tracks you rule. But never bothered to compete, he just came to relieve his Crown's weight.
He’s turned on—not just by your curves in that dress but by your nerve, your spark. He wants to prove you wrong, to show you he’s more than a “puppet.”
When he slips out of the gala, he’s already planning to meet you on the track, mask on, ready to make you eat your words.
Midnight hits, and the city pulses with neon and danger. The rooftop race track is your sanctuary—concrete, sharp turns, screaming engines.
You’re in your red car, a beast you built, ready to dominate. Leather jacket on, boots scuffed, you’re cocky and untouchable. Until he shows up.
A matte black car rolls in, sleek and dangerous. The driver steps out—black racing suit, gloves, and a mask hiding everything but his eyes and lips. No name, no greeting, just raw confidence.
You size him up, unimpressed. “Hope your car’s faster than that outfit, sweetheart,” you say, smirking.
He tilts his head, lips curling into a grin that’s pure trouble. “Careful, hotshot. My car’s not the only thing that’ll leave you in the dust.”
You blink, caught off guard. “Big talk for a guy hiding behind a mask. Scared to show your face?”
“Scared you’ll fall for it,” he fires back, voice smooth as sin. “Wouldn’t want to distract you before I wipe the floor with you.”
You laugh, sharp and competitive. “Keep dreaming, mystery boy.”
The race is wild. You and this masked guy go hard, tires screeching, cars nearly kissing at every turn. He’s good—too good. He matches your moves, teases with near-overtakes, then pulls back just enough to keep you hooked. You win, but you know he let you. It pisses you off.
You storm over as he leans against his car, all smug. “You went easy on me,” you snap, poking his chest. “Don’t play games with me.”
He grabs your finger, holding it gently but firm. “Games? Nah, I just like watching you squirm.” His eyes glint through the mask. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”
“Cute?” You yank your hand back, cheeks hot. “I’ll show you cute when I smoke you next time.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he says, leaning closer. “Bet you’re even prettier when you lose.” His voice drops, teasing, almost dirty. “Or when you’re begging.”
Your breath catches, and you hate how your body reacts—heat pooling, thighs clenching. “In your dreams, asshole,” you mutter, turning away before he sees you blush.
You strode to a quiet corner of the lot, needing to cool down. Pulling a cigarette from your jacket, you light it, taking a long drag. The smoke curls in the air, calming your nerves. But then he’s there, stepping out of the shadows, plucking the cigarette from your fingers before you can react.
“Not good for your health, sweetheart,” he says, crushing it under his boot. His voice is teasing, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s daring you to snap.
Your blood boils. “Who the hell do you think you are?” you hiss, stepping closer, fists clenched. “You don’t get to touch my stuff.”
He smirks, unfazed. “Just looking out for you. Need you in top shape to lose to me again.” He winks, and it’s infuriating, making your pulse race for all the wrong reasons. You storm off, his laugh echoing behind you, stoking the fire in your chest.
He’s everywhere now. Every race, every night, the masked racer is your shadow. You’re rivals, but it’s more than that—it’s a game, a dance, a fire you can’t put out.
He beats you, you beat him, and every time, he gets under your skin a little deeper. The garage becomes your battlefield, not just for racing but for something hotter, darker.
One night, after he edges you out again, you’re done playing. The garage is empty, smelling of gas and rubber, lit by a single flickering bulb.
You shove him against the wall, your hands fisting his racing suit. “Who the hell are you?” you growl, inches from his face. The mask taunts you, hiding him, but his eyes burn, and his lips—god, those lips—are too close. “Some rich kid playing bad boy? Take this damn thing off.”
He grabs your wrists, pulling you flush against him. Your breath hitches as his body presses into yours, hard and warm. You can feel every line of him—his chest, his thighs, the unmistakable hardness against your hip.
“You want the mask off?” he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. “Go ahead, princess. Rip it off. But you might not be ready for what’s underneath.” His gloved thumb brushes your hip, slipping just under your shirt, grazing bare skin. “Or maybe you’re just dying to find out how I’d fuck you with it on.”
Your heart slams against your ribs, heat flooding your core. You’re pissed, turned on, and way too close to ripping that mask off just to shut him up.
“You’re so full of shit,” you hiss, but your voice shakes. His hand slides higher, fingers splaying across your lower back, pulling you tighter. You can feel him—hard, ready—and it’s driving you insane.
“Full of shit?” He laughs, dark and velvety, his lips brushing your ear through the mask. “Says the girl who’s trembling in my hands.” He shifts, his thigh pressing between yours, sending a jolt through you. “Bet I could have you screaming my name right here, bent over your own car. Wanna test me?”
You shove him back, but it’s weak, your body betraying you. “Keep talking, mystery boy. All you’ve got is a mouth.”
“Oh, I’ve got a lot more than that,” he says, stepping closer again. His gloved finger traces down your arm, slow, deliberate, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “And you’re gonna find out soon enough. Unless you’re scared to lose at this too.”
You’re trembling, not from fear but from the heat between you, the tension so thick it’s choking. You turn and walk away, but his laugh follows you, low and knowing. He’s got you, and you both know it.
Another race. Another loss. You’re still fuming from the race, the loss burning in your veins as you lean against your car in the empty lot, the city skyline a distant glow.
You’re about to light cigarette when his matte black car pulls up, a silent taunt. Before you can snap at him, he’s out, striding toward you with that infuriating confidence, yanking open his passenger door.
“Get in mine,” he says, voice low, commanding, leaving no room for argument. He catches the cigarette in your hand, plucking it from your fingers and tossing it to the ground.
“I’ll give you something else to get addicted to,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting through the mask, his voice dripping with promise.
Your blood spikes, a mix of anger and something hotter. You should tell him to fuck off. You should walk away. But your body’s betraying you, drawn to him like a magnet.
You slide into his car, the leather seat cool against your thighs, the scent of new leather and his cedar cologne filling your senses. He’s in the driver’s seat in a flash, mask still on. The air is heavy, charged with the adrenaline still buzzing from the race, your bodies slick with sweat, eyes wild.
“What’s this about?” you snap, but your voice trembles, betraying the heat pooling in your core.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his gloved hand wraps around your thigh, and in one fluid motion, he lifts you across the center console, pulling you onto his lap with such ease it’s like you weigh nothing.
His muscles flex under the tight racing suit, the power in his grip sending a thrill through you. You’re straddling him now, thighs wrapping his, the hard press of him against your core unmistakable through the layers of fabric.
The seat’s pushed back, giving just enough room, but it’s tight, intimate, every movement amplified. The air is heavy, charged with the scent of new leather, his cedar cologne, and the sweat of the race, your bodies slick and wild-eyed.
“You talk too much,” he growls, his lips brushing your jaw, the mask grazing your cheek with a delicious roughness. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, the contrast of his warm breath and the cool leather igniting your nerves. “Let’s see if you can keep up off the track.”
Your hands fist in his suit, yanking him closer, the fabric taut under your fingers. “Shut up and do something about it,” you challenge, your voice low, daring him to cross the line.
He does. His mouth crashes into yours, a collision of teeth and heat, the kiss raw and hungry. The mask scrapes your skin, adding a thrilling edge, and you taste adrenaline, sweat, and something distinctly him—dark, intoxicating.
He removes glove from his one of the hands and slide it under your shirt, fingers digging into your waist, the leather cool against your heated skin. He grinds you down against him, and you feel him—hard, pulsing, ready—through the thin layers separating you.
A moan escapes you, swallowed by his kiss, as he deepens it, his tongue sweeping against yours, claiming every inch of your mouth.
“Princess like you needs taming,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. Other hand slides up to your throat, not squeezing, just holding—firm, possessive, the weight of his palm grounding you. “Bet you’ve been dreaming of this since I smoked you that first night.”
You want to snap back, but he’s right. You’ve been burning for him, hating him, wanting him. You grind down harder, the friction sending sparks through your body, and he groans, the sound raw and primal, shooting straight to your core.
His free hand tugs at the zipper of your racing suit, pulling it down with a slow, deliberate drag, exposing your chest to the cool air.
Your skin prickles, but his mouth is there instantly, hot and wet, sucking a bruising mark into your collarbone. The sensation is electric, his lips soft but demanding, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.
“Fuck,” you hiss, your fingers clawing at his shoulders, desperate for more. You reach for his mask, desperate to see him, to know him, but he grabs your wrist, pinning it to the headrest with a strength that makes your pulse race.
“Not yet,” he says, voice rough, eyes dark and burning through the mask’s slits. “You don’t get to know me until I’ve made you come undone.”
The words are filthy, and you’re drowning in them. His hand slides between your thighs, finding you already soaked through your underwear.
He doesn’t bother pulling your panties off—just pushes them aside with a smooth flick of his fingers. Two fingers slide inside you, slow and deliberate, curling just right, and you clench around him, a moan tearing from your throat. The stretch is perfect, his fingers adding a strange, delicious friction that makes your hips buck.
“That’s it,” he says, his thumb circling your clit with agonizing precision, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through you.
“Ride me like you ride that car, princess.” His voice is a low growl, dripping with command, and his hand on your throat tightens just enough to make your head spin.
You do as he says, rocking against his hand, chasing the high. The car rocks slightly with your movements, the windows fogging up as your breaths come in short, desperate pants.
His fingers move faster, curling deeper, and his thumb presses harder, drawing you closer to the edge. You’re trembling, every nerve on fire, and he knows it. He leans forward, his lips brushing your ear, the mask grazing your skin.
“Come for me,” he whispers, voice dark and sinful. “Show me how fast you can fall apart.”
The orgasm hits like a crash, a white-hot explosion that leaves you shaking in his lap. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your body clenching around his fingers as you cry out, the sound muffled against his neck.
He doesn’t stop, drawing out every shudder, every whimper, until you’re oversensitive, gasping for breath. Only then does he pull his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean through the mask’s slit. The sight is obscene, his eyes locked on yours, and it sends another jolt through you.
You’re panting, wrecked, but you manage a smirk. “Your turn, asshole,” you say, voice hoarse, reaching for his zipper.
He grabs your hand, stopping you with that infuriating smirk. “Patience, princess,” he says, his tone teasing but firm. “You’ll get what you want when I say so.”
The words make your blood boil, frustration mixing with desire. He’s toying with you, playing hard and it’s driving you insane. You glare at him, the mask taunting you, and make a silent vow—next time, you’re ripping it off, no matter what.
You slide off his lap, fixing your clothes, and storm out, his low chuckle following you into the night.
The garage is your shared battleground now, a place where you fix cars and fight with him. Tonight, you’re both on edge, the latest race leaving you raw.
He beat you again, and his smug attitude is unbearable. The air smells of gasoline and metal, the flickering bulb casting shadows across your red car. You’re arguing, voices sharp, the tension thick enough to choke on.
“You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?” you snap, slamming a wrench onto the workbench. “Hiding behind that mask like a coward.”
He steps closer, too close, his masked face inches from yours. “Coward? I’m the one who’s been kicking your ass out there.” His voice is low, taunting. “Maybe you’re just mad you can’t keep up.”
You shove him, hard, and he stumbles back, laughing. “Fuck you,” you hiss, but the heat in your chest isn’t just anger. It’s desire, burning hotter with every word.
He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head against the garage wall. “Keep talking, princess,” he murmurs, his body pressed against yours, the mask grazing your cheek. “I like it when you fight me.”
You don’t think. You kiss him, hard and messy, teeth clashing, the mask a frustrating barrier. Your hands struggle against his grip, desperate to touch him, to claim him.
He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, and releases your wrists, letting you tear at his racing suit. Fabric rips as you yank it down his shoulders, exposing tanned skin, lean muscle.
Your fingers find the edge of his mask, and this time, he doesn’t stop you. You rip it off, tossing it aside, and freeze.
It’s him. Hoseok. The prince. His sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, and that damn smirk are unmistakable. “You,” you breathe, stunned, your heart pounding. Your mind races, piecing it together—the gala, the races, the way he always seemed to know you. “The prince? You’re… him?”
He smirks, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Surprised, princess? Thought I was just a puppet, huh?”
“You heard me,” you say, voice shaking, not sure if you’re angry or turned on or both. “At the gala. You heard every word.”
“Every fucking word,” he confirms, stepping closer, his hands on your hips. “And I’ve been dying to prove you wrong ever since.” His voice drops, low and dangerous. “Still think I can’t handle a real machine?”
You swallow, your body betraying you as heat floods your core. “You’re still an asshole,” you mutter, but it’s weak, your hands already pulling him closer.
“Good,” he says, his lips brushing yours. “I like you mad.” He kisses you again, slower this time, but no less intense, his tongue teasing yours, drawing a moan from you.
You push him back, needing control, and he lets you, a wicked glint in his eyes. “That scooter boy enough for you now, sweetheart?” he taunts, his voice dripping with mockery as he lifts you onto the hood of your car.
The metal is cool against your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of his hands as he rips at your clothes, exposing skin to the humid air.
“Shut up,” you snap, but your voice is breathy, your hands tearing at his suit, desperate to feel him. He kneels between your legs, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, your thighs, until he’s teasing you through your underwear.
“Tell me you want this,” he says, voice rough, his fingers hooking into the fabric.
“I want you,” you gasp, and he rewards you by pulling your underwear aside, his fingers sliding inside you, slow and deliberate. The stretch is perfect, his knuckles brushing just right, and you arch against the hood, moaning.
He works you with a skill that makes your head spin, his thumb circling your clit, his lips kissing down your inner thigh, leaving marks that burn in the best way.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs, his voice reverent, his eyes locked on yours. “All for me, princess?”
“Stop dreaming,” you manage, but it’s a whimper, and he laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kisses lower, his tongue joining his fingers. You’re trembling, close to the edge, and he knows it, slowing down just to torture you.
“Say my name,” he demands, his fingers curling inside you, making you gasp.
“Hoseok,” you moan, and he rewards you with a flick of his tongue that sends you over the edge, your body shaking as you come undone. He doesn’t stop, drawing out every shudder until you’re panting, oversensitive.
He stands, undoing his pants, and bends you over the hood, your palms bracing against the cool metal. He kisses down your spine, slow and deliberate, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he enters you from behind.
The stretch is intense, filling you completely, and you cry out, your reflection in the windshield showing you wild, wrecked, alive. He moves slow at first, letting you feel every inch, then faster, harder, until the garage echoes with the sound of your gasps and the slap of skin.
“You’re mine,” he growls, one hand on your hip, the other sliding up to your throat, holding you just tight enough to make you dizzy. He pulls out at the last second, his release hot and slick across your spine, marking you in a way that feels primal, possessive.
You collapse against the hood, breathless, his hands still on you, grounding you. “You’re still an asshole,” you mutter, but there’s no heat in it, just a tired, sated smile.
He chuckles, kissing the back of your neck. “And you’re still mine.”
The Inferno Run looms like a storm cloud, the biggest underground race of the year—dangerous, no rules, zero forgiveness. Even the drunken people can participate.
You’ve been dreaming of this win your whole life, the title that’ll make your name in the underground forever. Hoseok—now unmasked,—begs you to skip it.
You’re in his car, parked in a secluded lot, the air heavy with the weight of what’s coming. He’s leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his face raw with emotion, no trace of the smirking prince or the masked racer. Just Hoseok, stripped down, vulnerable, his dark eyes pleading.
“Don’t do this race,” he says, voice rough, like he’s been screaming inside. “It’s not worth it.”
You laugh, but it’s bitter, your heart twisting. “Not worth it? Hoseok, this is everything. This is my life. You won't get it.”
He steps closer, grabbing your hands, his grip tight, desperate. “I get it more than you think. I’ve raced it before. I saw someone crash—burn. They didn’t make it out.”
His voice cracks, his eyes glistening. “The Inferno Run isn’t a race to win. It’s a race to survive. They don’t race to win there. They race to survive.”
You pull your hands away, your chest aching. “I’m not scared. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect.”
“I’m not protecting you!” he shouts, his voice breaking, raw with fear.
“I’m fucking terrified, okay? I can’t—” He stops, swallowing hard, his hands shaking as he runs them through his hair. “I can’t watch you disappear in fire just to prove something. Not when I’ve just found you.”
Your breath catches, his words cutting deeper than any blade. “Why does it matter so much?” you whisper, your voice trembling.
He looks at you, eyes wide, like you’ve ripped his heart out. “Because I love you,” he says, the words spilling out like they’ve been trapped too long.
“I love you, and I don’t know how to say it right. You cracked me open, broke every wall I had. You unmasked me—heart and all—before you ever touched that damn mask.”
“I’d give up everything—the races, the mask, the fucking crown, the whole damn world—if it meant you’d stay safe. I’ll drop out of racing with you. I’ll leave the palace. I’ll give up my title. Or I’ll make you queen of the entire fucking kingdom if you just stay alive.”
Your heart stops, his confession crashing over you like a wave. You’ve cracked his armor, unmasked him emotionally long before you ever touched that physical mask.
He’s choosing you over everything, and it terrifies him. You can see it—the fear that you’ll choose the race over him, that you’ll burn up and leave him behind.
“You think being fast is worth dying for?” he continues, his voice raw, breaking. “What about me? What am I supposed to do if you don’t make it back?”
You’re shaking, torn between the fire in your veins and the way his voice breaks. You want to scream, to run, to hold him. “I have to do this,” you say finally, your voice soft but firm, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I don’t need a crown, Hoseok. I need that win.”
He steps back, his face crumpling, defeated. His eyes are wet, his hands clenched into fists.
“Then I’ll be there,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Watching. Praying you make it back. But if you don’t…” He chokes, unable to finish, and turns away, his shoulders shaking. He’s not gone—not really. He’s waiting, ready to fall apart if you crash.
The Inferno Run is a nightmare and the track is a death trap—narrow, twisting, lined with rusted guardrails and littered with debris.
Your car screams, pushed to its limits, every turn a gamble, every second a fight for control. You’re in the zone, heart pounding, adrenaline burning through you.
You catch a glimpse of Hoseok in the crowd, disguised again, his eyes locked on you, wide with fear. It’s enough to make your heart stutter, but you shove it down. You have to win.
Then it happens. A sabotaged tire, rigged to fail. A turn slick with oil, deliberately placed. Your car hits the patch, skids violently, and flips. Once. Twice. The world spins, metal screeching, glass shattering.
Pain explodes through you—your ribs crack, your head slams against the seat, your arm twists unnaturally. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline chokes you as the car settles, a crumpled wreck.
Blood trickles down your face, warm and sticky, pooling in your mouth, tasting of iron and fear. Your vision blurs, the world fading but you see him, running towards you.
Hoseok’s scream rips through the chaos, raw and guttural, like his soul is tearing apart. He’s running before anyone can stop him, shoving through the crowd, mask forgotten, his face exposed to the flashing cameras.
He reaches the wreckage, smoke curling around him, the heat of the twisted metal searing his skin. He tears at the door, hands shaking, bloodied from jagged edges, until he pulls you out.
Your body is limp, blood streaking your face, your racing suit torn. He cradles you in his arms, his screams for help hoarse, desperate, as he sinks to his knees on the asphalt.
“Don’t you dare,” he chokes out, his voice breaking as he holds you close, your blood smearing his hands, his face. “Don’t you fucking leave me.”
His tears fall, mixing with the dirt and blood on your cheek, his body trembling as he rocks you, praying, begging, while the world watches—Prince Jung Hoseok, unmasked, broken, holding the woman he loves in the wreckage of her dream.
You’re lying in a hospital bed, the world a blur of pain and darkness. Hoseok is there every damn second, a ghost of himself, his eyes red and hollow, his hands clasped tightly as he prays for you to wake up.
He doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, just sits by your side, whispering promises, begging you to come back. His advisors try to pull him away, citing royal duties, but he snaps, his voice raw, telling them to fuck off.
He’s not a prince right now—he’s just a man, terrified of losing you. The news is everywhere—Prince Jung Hoseok, unmasked as an illegal racer, risking everything for you—but he doesn’t care about the headlines, only you.
Weeks pass, each day a knife in his heart, until you finally stir. Your eyes flutter open, the sterile hospital light stinging, your body aching like it’s been through a war.
Hoseok’s there, instantly, his face crumpling with relief, tears spilling as he takes your hand, his grip warm, trembling. “You’re awake,” he whispers, voice breaking. “Fuck, you’re awake.”
“You idiot,” you croak, voice weak, throat dry. “You ruined your life for me.”
He laughs, a broken, watery sound, pressing his forehead to your hand. “You’re my life, you stubborn asshole.” His voice is raw, thick with emotion, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. “I thought I lost you. I sat here every day, praying, begging, promising anything if you’d just open your eyes.”
You want to argue, but you’re too tired, too sore, and his love is overwhelming, wrapping around you like a blanket.
He stays with you, every moment, fighting off his advisors, ignoring the world outside. He feeds you soup, his hands shaking as he holds the spoon, brushes your hair with a gentleness that makes your chest ache. You hate how much you love it, how much you need it.
“You drive like you’re not afraid to die,” he says one night, his voice breaking as he sits beside you, his hand never leaving yours. “I’ve never been more scared in my life than watching you do it without me.” He pauses, his thumb tracing the bandages on your wrist.
“I didn’t want to stop you from being brave. I just couldn’t stand the idea of being left behind.”
You squeeze his hand, weak but firm. “I’m here,” you whisper, and he breaks, pressing his lips to your knuckles, his tears warm against your skin. The love between you grows, raw and unshakable, binding you tighter with every touch, every word.
Weeks later, you’re recovering, bruises fading but ribs still tender. Hoseok’s there every day, his presence a steady warmth, helping you walk, stretching your legs with hands so gentle it makes your heart ache.
Tonight, the hospital room is quiet, the only sounds the hum of machines and your soft breaths. He’s kneeling beside your bed, his lips brushing your shoulder, your neck, soft and reverent, like he’s worshipping every inch of you that’s still here.
“God, I thought I lost you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, his breath warm against your skin. “You scared me more than any race ever could. I kept imagining a world without you, and it was fucking empty.”
You thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, your heart swelling at his vulnerability. “I’m here, Hoseok,” you murmur, your voice soft but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He kisses you, slow and desperate, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, the feel of your lips. His thumb brushes your bandaged waist, careful not to hurt you, but the touch is electric, grounding you in this moment.
“You’re such a sap,” you tease, a playful smirk tugging at your lips despite the ache in your chest. “What happened to the cocky asshole from the track?”
He chuckles, the sound low and warm, his eyes crinkling with that familiar spark. “Oh, he’s still here, princess. Just taking a break to make sure my favorite rival doesn’t break my heart again.”
He leans in, nipping at your earlobe, his voice dropping to a playful growl. “Don’t get used to this soft shit. I’m still gonna kick your ass when you’re back on your feet.”
You laugh, the sound weak but genuine, and it feels like a victory. “Keep dreaming, scooter boy,” you retort, your fingers tugging lightly at his hair. “I’ll be smoking you again in no time.”
His grin widens, but his eyes soften, and he presses his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I love it when you talk like that,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of teasing and adoration. “But seriously… I need you close tonight. I need to know you’re real.”
Your heart skips, and you shift slightly, wincing at the pull in your ribs. “Then get up here,” you say, patting the narrow hospital bed beside you. “I want to feel your warmth. No funny business, though—I’m still sore as hell.”
He laughs, the sound bright and boyish, and carefully climbs into the bed, maneuvering so he’s lying beside you without jostling your injuries.
His body is warm, solid, a comforting weight against you, and you nestle into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of cedar and faint motor oil. His arm drapes over you, light but protective, and he presses a kiss to your temple.
“You’re gonna milk this invalid thing, aren’t you?” he teases, his voice soft, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder. “Gonna make me play nurse forever?”
“Damn right,” you murmur, a smile playing on your lips as you close your eyes, savoring his closeness. “Spoon-feeding me soup for life sounds fair.”
He chuckles, the vibration rumbling through his chest, and it’s the most comforting sound you’ve heard in weeks. “Deal, princess. But don’t expect me to go easy on you when you’re back on the track.”
You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, the playful banter fades, replaced by something deeper, unspoken. “I’m not leaving you behind, Hoseok,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but heavy with promise. “Not ever.”
He swallows, his eyes glistening, and he kisses you again, soft and lingering. “Good,” he murmurs against your lips. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Three months after the crash, you own the track again.
You cross the finish line, body humming, high on adrenaline, cheers blasting around you like music—and you barely get your helmet off before Hoseok is there, cutting through the crowd like a man possessed.
His eyes find yours—burning, wild—and he doesn’t ask.
He grabs your wrist, yanks you around the corner of the pit garage where your car’s parked, flings open the backseat door, and shoves you inside like he’s been waiting forever to ruin you.
The door slams shut. The air is thick. The silence? Carnal.
“You’re fucking insane,” he growls, already crawling in after you, slamming the lock shut. “And I’m so goddamn addicted to it.”
You barely get out a laugh before he’s on you, crushing your lips with his, teeth clashing, hands everywhere—yanking down your zipper, shoving your suit off your shoulders.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about this,” he mutters against your skin, dragging his mouth down your throat, biting hard enough to make you cry out. “The way you looked in that suit… knowing I’m the only one who gets to rip it off you.”
You wriggle under him, straddling his lap as he settles back on the seat. The space is tight, bodies pressed so close you can feel the shape of his hard cock straining against his pants. You grind down with a moan, and he growls low in his throat.
“You scared the shit out of me that day,” he hisses, undoing the last clasp on your gear. “Thought I lost you.”
“You didn’t,” you whisper, biting his lip. “But if you’re still scared… then I'll make you forget everything.”
He yanks your panties aside and slides two fingers into you without warning—deep, curling instantly. You scream into his mouth, nails clawing at his back.
“Already this wet?” he groans. “You really missed me wrecking you, didn’t you?”
You can barely answer, hips bucking into his hand, his thumb rubbing hard, fast circles against your clit. The slick sounds are obscene, filling the car with wet, messy music as your moans grow louder, higher, needier.
Then he pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean, eyes dark. “Get on the seat. Face down.”
You do it without hesitation—knees on the leather, hands braced on the window, breasts pressed against the fogging glass. You hear the sound of his zipper, then feel the thick, hot press of him at your entrance.
He doesn’t ease in. He slams into you.
You choke on a gasp, forehead dropping against the glass. “Holy fuck—”
“That’s right,” he growls, slamming into you again, again. “You don’t need a fucking finish line. This is where you belong.”
The car rocks violently with every thrust, creaking on its springs. Your moans are open-mouthed and desperate, loud in the small, enclosed space. His fingers wrap around your neck from behind, tugging your head back just enough.
“Look,” he pants, pointing to the side mirror. “Look at how fucked-out you look already.”
You glance—and whimper. Your face is flushed, hair a mess, mouth open as he rails you mercilessly. The mirror shakes with the rhythm of your bodies, fog curling along the windows like steam from hell itself.
“You gonna come for me?” he snarls, slapping your ass so hard it stings. “Come all over my cock like a good fucking girl?”
“Yes—yes, yes, yes—” you sob, grinding back against him, walls fluttering, body coiled so tight it hurts. “Hoseok, fuck— I’m—!”
You shatter.
You convulse around him, screaming into the window, whole body trembling as he fucks you through it—relentless, hips slamming, one hand tangled in your hair, the other still gripping your throat.
Then he flips you over, pins you down across the seat, and buries himself again—deep, hard, filthy.
He groans your name, kisses you roughly, bites your shoulder as he thrusts faster. “Gonna fill you up. Stuff you full till you’re leaking with me.”
“Do it,” you moan. “Mark me. Ruin me.”
He grabs your thighs, presses them back until you’re nearly folded, and with one final thrust—he spills inside you with a loud, broken curse, forehead pressed to yours, eyes burning into you.
You lay there, panting, trembling, dripping, the windows fogged, the backseat wrecked, his cum warm inside you.
For a moment, the only sound is your ragged breathing, tangled together in sweat and victory and something dangerously close to love.
Then, softly— “Hoseok...” You caress his cheeks.
“That was my last race.”
He blinks down at you, stunned. “What?”
You reach up, brush his damp hair back, voice calm. “I’m done. I won. That’s enough. I want you. You were willing to give up everything for me. Now it’s my turn.”
He stares at you, lips parted, eyes wet. “Fuck… You’re serious?”
You smile. “I’m not leaving you behind, Hoseok. I love you.”
And then he kisses you—deep, dirty, tender. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you,” he whispers against your lips. “But I swear to god, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life proving I do.”
You and Hoseok stand hand in hand, facing the palace—not as a racer and a prince, but as a team. A little mismatched, a little chaotic, but so full of love it could melt stone.
His parents, the king and queen, are intimidating in every sense. His mother’s expression is polite, but cold. His father’s gaze flicks down to your grease-stained fingers with a barely hidden sigh.
But Hoseok holds your hand tighter. And when he speaks in that calm, steady voice, the one that always makes your heart flutter, he leaves no room for doubt.
“She’s not just a racer,” he says, like he’s declaring something sacred. “She’s my partner. My love. My heart. My favorite everything. I’ll give up the crown before I give up her.”
You glance at him, heart bursting, then lift your chin and say, gently but firmly, “I’m not here to take him away from you. I’m here to be by his side. For all the potholes and palace halls in the road ahead.”
His mother blinks. And something softens. A tiny flicker, like a stubborn cloud letting in a sliver of sunshine.
It’s not instant. There are weeks of stiff dinners and awkward silences. But you charm them slowly—with the quiet strength beneath your playful wit, the way you patch Hoseok’s bruised knuckles with band-aids shaped like stars, the way you steady him without dimming his light.
Eventually, they see it. The queen reaches for your hand one afternoon, her voice quiet. “You make him better,” she says, simply. The king grunts, nodding. “You’re tougher than you look. We approve.”
That night, you sob into Hoseok’s hoodie for a solid twenty minutes while he rubs your back and whispers, “Told you they’d love you. You’re irresistible.”
And with their blessing, you finally dive headfirst into your dream—your own automotive startup, funded by your racing prize money. You swap racetracks for workshops, high heels for tool belts.
You’re happiest elbow-deep in engine grease, music blaring, messy bun half-falling out, building machines that hum like dreams.
Sometimes, Hoseok visits between royal duties, tiptoeing into the workshop in shiny shoes, immediately ruining his look when he kisses your forehead and ends up with an oil smudge across his cheek. “My hotshot CEO,” he teases, spinning on your office chair like a child. “Will you marry me now, or after I steal your coffee?”
The wedding approaches—glorious, glittery, a little overwhelming. The palace is buzzing with plans. One old tradition says you can’t see your groom the night before the ceremony.
Which is cute. In theory. But you miss him. A lot.
So naturally, you decide rules are for cowards.
You sneak barefoot through the palace corridors, giggling every time you hide behind a curtain to avoid a guard. Your silk nightgown flutters around your legs, and your heart races with excitement, not fear.
When you finally tap on his chamber door, it creaks open—and there he is. Standing sleepy-eyed in just grey sweatpants and messy hair, looking at you like you are the sunrise.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he whispers, grinning like a little boy with a secret.
You shrug, stepping in and tiptoeing to kiss his cheek. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe my favorite royal dork missed me too?”
He scoops you up instantly, making you yelp as he spins you once, then carries you to the bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“This is why I’m marrying you,” he murmurs, tucking a blanket around you. “You break into my room in designer sleepwear just to cuddle.”
You curl into his arms, resting your cheek on his chest, grinning so wide it hurts. “I just wanted one last night before the tiaras and titles and all that royal glitter. Just you. Just me.”
“And I figured if I’m about to marry a prince, I deserve one last cuddle as your girlfriend.”
His fingers start drawing gentle shapes on your back, and he kisses your forehead with a soft hum. “It’s always gonna be just us,” he murmurs. “Even when you’re wearing a crown and making scary palace decisions while I’m late because I was too busy to admire my wife even in dreams.”
You giggle, snuggling closer. “And I’ll still smell like engine oil at state dinners.”
“And I’ll still sneak into your workshop to ‘borrow a wrench’ and end up making out with my wife next to a half-built machines,” he teases, eyes twinkling.
You whisper and laugh through the night—about honeymoon plans, about adopting a dog and naming it Clutch, about building a secret racecourse behind the palace.
At one point, you whisper, “You’re gonna be the best king this kingdom’s ever had.”
And he kisses your temple, brushing your hair back like you’re the most precious thing in his world. “Only because you’re gonna be my queen, the coolest Queen of this kingdom.”
You fall asleep tangled together, safe and warm and full of love, the kind that isn’t loud or grand—but steady, soul-deep, and forever.
A/n: Sorry for late updates, guys. Office is actually hectic nowadays. 😭
Summary: Everything feels different after having the worst scare of your life, but your baby's due date is fast approaching and there's still plenty more important things to do than rifle through your ever-growing feelings for Jungkook. He certainly doesn't make it easy on you when he's constantly sweeping you off your feet.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Pregnancy AU, Childhood Friends to FWB to Lovers, Slow-Burn, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst (barely, you have to squint to see it)
Word Count: 24.9k+
Warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, water breaking, talks of bodily fluids, blood, blood transfusion, mentions of dizziness, anxiety, surprises, gifts, alcohol, thunderstorms, hospitals, doctors, nurses, scrubs, wheelchairs, crying, screaming, extreme physical pain, airplanes. SMUT: kissing, cuddling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, big dick jk!!!, oral sex (m receiving), doggy, dick riding, titty play, lactation kink, making out in the shower, cream pie, grinding, hair pulling, choking, manhandling, ok I think that might be it!
Author's Note: I actually cannot believe the final chapter is here. the amount of love I've received from this story is so overwhelming and it makes me unbelievably happy that you guys love these two as much as I do. here's to an epic conclusion for our couple and their beautiful baby! if you’ve given birth and see any inaccuracies pls just look the other way lol. also, to the anon that asked me about a lactation kink and I said no... I promise I'm not a liar you just inspired me to add one. thank you all so much for all the support. enjoy, my lovely readers :)
-> Cradle Robbers Masterpost
SEVEN
You sincerely hope your fellow grocery shoppers don’t see you with six bottles of wine balancing on your baby bump and think you’re a monster. It obviously isn’t for you, but stranger things have happened and you have no control over what these people may think of you.
The sole reason you’re purchasing copious amounts of alcohol is because it’s wine night, and tonight is the inaugural gathering at your house. The girls are all unbelievably excited to see the illustrious home, including the partially decorated nursery they’ve only seen via video call.
It’s since been painted a neutral beige color with an adorable cat and dog mural on the wall behind the crib. More artwork occupies the remaining walls, including a set of picture frames containing photos of you and Jungkook from childhood until now. The furniture’s all been built at this point, although some of it still needs to be placed and secured to the wall. The ample supply of stuffed animals provided by none other than your baby’s father reside in a hammock above the rocking chair.
Jungkook will be at Namjoon’s tonight along with the other guys so you can have the place to yourselves, which you’re grateful for since it wouldn’t be very conducive to conversation if a central topic of your gossip is present. He certainly doesn’t need his ego stroked by you enthusiastically retelling the girls about all your wild sexual encounters.
Visually taking stock of your haul, which mostly consists of junk food and wine, you mentally run through your shopping list one last time before heading to the checkout. The employee scanning your items looks surprised when she glances between your belly and the wine collection, but thankfully doesn’t comment on the questionable items. She informs you of the total and you tap Jungkook’s black card against the machine. Once you hear the familiar chime, you thank the woman and steer your cart towards the parking lot.
A recent development of your pregnancy is that you began your third and final trimester by quitting your job, hence why you’re paying for groceries with Jungkook’s card and not your own.
It’s been on the table for a while now, with you and Jungkook discussing it here and there over the last couple months. After crunching the numbers, the two of you mutually agreed it’s for the best. Since your salary is astronomically smaller than Jungkook’s, you would lose more money paying for childcare than by removing your salary from the equation altogether.
Being a stay-at-home mom was never the plan, even when you were younger, but now that you’re pregnant, the idea is more appealing than ever. Not only do you want to be present for all the special moments of their childhood, but Jungkook is loaded and there’s no reason to pay for a nanny or daycare when he can care for you financially while you take care of things at home.
Truthfully, it’s been difficult depending on him, not because he makes it so, but because you still feel guilty using his money. Your last paycheck was about two weeks ago, so you’re exclusively using his funds and the first time you tapped his card against the machine you nearly bit your lip off. On the flip side, Jungkook’s been profusely scolding you for refusing to go on a huge spending spree with his no limit credit card.
He’s been continuously sending you links to buy expensive jewelry, clothes, and handbags, and threatens to buy them for you himself if you don’t run his bank account dry soon. It’s the first time in his life you’ve given him the go ahead to support you in that way and he’s adamant about you taking advantage of the opportunity.
Ironically, the only thing you’ve bought other than essentials is a gift for him.
Last week his gaming headset snapped in half when Bam decided they were a perfect seat. Jungkook was rightfully distraught and refused to look his beloved pet in the eye for the remainder of the evening. Determined to mend their relationship, you went out the following morning to buy him the latest and greatest.
When you presented him the gift, Jungkook lifted you so far above his head in excitement you feared hitting the ceiling. Despite his own bank account decreasing, the thoughtfulness of your act sent him over the moon with joy. He attacked you with kisses once your feet met the ground again, and you had to pry him off you before your lips turned purple.
Independence is a key character trait of yours, so this new lifestyle is definitely an adjustment, but it would be a lie to say it doesn’t feel just a little bit nice using a card that doesn’t have your own name on it.
During your drive home, the contact image of Jungkook positively cheesing next to your most recent ultrasound photo appears on the dashboard screen. Your heart does an involuntary flip at the sight, and you press the green answer button just as the car turns down your street.
“Hey, baby.”
Despite his usage of a pet name, Jungkook sounds exasperated, and maybe slightly annoyed, when the phone connects.
“Koo? Is everything alright?”
“No, Bams,” he admits begrudgingly. “There’s a leak under the kitchen faucet. It’s pretty bad. I don’t think we can have the girls over tonight, but I already called the Blue Lagoon Lounge and booked a room for you guys. The drinks and food are all paid for already. So, text the girls to let them know and have fun, okay?”
“What? Jungkook, are you sure? If the leak isn’t going to take more than a couple hours I can just tell the girls to come later.”
“No, no,” Jungkook says. “Just go enjoy yourself and I’ll take care of this. I don’t want your night to be cut short at all. The reservation is under Jeon.”
“Alright,” you mumble. “Love you, talk to you soon.”
“Love you more, Bambi, I’ll see you soon.”
You voice-to-text your group chat to reiterate the news and your friends are downright ecstatic about having access to unlimited free food and drinks.
In fact, the last text to ping your phone from Tzuyu reads: “thank you so fucking much for getting knocked up by a sexy millionaire. I owe you my life.” The three other members of the chat heart react the message.
When you arrive at the restaurant, you look down and mentally congratulate yourself on already being dressed in your attire for the evening. It’s unusually warm for this time of year, so you’re in a floral tea-length dress with your hair up. Your friend group doesn’t normally get dolled up for these occasions, but Mina is finally ready to reacclimate herself to the dating scene and suggested a mini photoshoot for your choice of entertainment tonight.
The Blue Lagoon Lounge is massive, with a full dining room, smaller private suites, and large banquet halls in the back. Upon telling the hostess the name, she leads you through a couple of winding hallways and rooms. She gestures towards a pair of double doors once you reach your destination and you gaze at her inquisitively, wondering if she got the room right. Sensing your confusion, she nods to reaffirm her guidance and steps aside so you can enter.
The moment your feet cross the threshold, the eruption of sound from inside the room makes you jump in shock.
“SURPRISE!”
Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as your jaw falls open.
All of your friends and family are scattered around the large room which overlooks the river on the edge of your city. The multitude of round tables which occupy the space are decorated beautifully with white, purple, and yellow flowers along with gorgeous fine china place settings. There’s a liberal sized bar along the back wall and an even bigger buffet table in the corner closest to you.
When your surveying eyes land on Jungkook, who's standing with your friends beside the grand, floor length windows, he smirks and wiggles his phone in accomplishment.
“You little liar!”
“I did good, right?”
“Yes, which is concerning because you’re a terrible liar,” you say while approaching them.
“Oh, don’t worry, he needed plenty of coaching,” Mina states.
“We went over the script four times,” Nayeon mentions.
“And my hands still shook!” Jungkook responds before holding his hand up to show you it twitching.
You clasp the appendage between your own and kiss his knuckles, pulling him into you for a tight embrace. He laughs heartily as his arms latch around you, tugging you up against him until your heels lift from the floor. His hand holds the nape of your neck while you rest your head on his shoulder.
“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to him. “This is amazing.”
“I didn’t do anything besides pay for it, Bambi. Your friends did all this,” he tells you.
“Uh, see, now he’s getting a little too good at lying,” Tzuyu says from behind you. “It was his idea, Y/N.”
You reluctantly depart from his warmth, but lace your fingers together while you stand side by side.
“No,” Jungkook shakes his head modestly. “I mentioned it once in passing and you guys took it from there.”
“So humble, JK,” Jihyo clicks her tongue disapprovingly.
Hugging the girls one by one, you thank them for sacrificing a wine night for your surprise baby shower before moving throughout the room to greet everyone else who came to celebrate you.
Jungkook follows closely behind with a hand on your lower back, thanking everyone for coming with an adorable bow of his head. He does it so much that at one point you place your hand beneath his chin to stop him so he doesn’t get a headache.
Your parents are last, but of course not least, and you don’t miss the way your moms make eye contact with matching cheshire grins when they notice where Jungkook’s hand resides.
The six of you exchange hugs and your mom holds your hands afterwards, excitedly shaking them in the air.
“Oh sweetie, weren’t you so surprised?” She asks.
“Yes! It was the last thing I was expecting, but I’m so grateful everyone came,” you answer her.
“You’re glowing, sweetpea,” your dad comments.
Once the greetings are complete, everyone moseys around grabbing drinks and placing their gifts on the long table at the front of the room. You join Jungkook at the bar to grab his drink, which he thrice pretends to hand you before pulling it back with an annoyingly cute giggle. Rolling your eyes, you take his hand and lead him to the little sweetheart table at the very center of the wall of windows which faces the rest of the room.
Before tables are dismissed one by one to grab food from the buffet, Jihyo stands and clinks a fork against her glass to garner everyone’s attention.
“Hi everyone, for those who don’t know me, I’m Jihyo. I want to say a little something before we eat and celebrate the amazing woman sitting at the front of the room.” She beckons towards you with her hands and the sound of everyone’s cheers turns your face bright red. “Y/N is the most loving, caring, wonderful soul I’ve ever known and although it wasn’t planned,” she purposely whispers the last word, sending a wave of laughter across the room. “I am absolutely certain she’ll be the most amazing mother the world has ever known. I love you so much, babe, and I can’t wait to meet your little one.”
She raises her glass for a toast, and you parrot the act with your virgin mimosa.
“I believe the little one’s daddy also has something he’d like to say?”
Jungkook’s eyes go wide, his hand pointing to his chest in surprise, clearly not expecting the spotlight. Jihyo nods encouragingly and shoots him a double thumbs up as she takes her seat. Always one for a challenge, Jungkook cracks his neck, clicks his tongue, and clears his throat before standing with his drink in hand.
“Hello,” Jungkook says quietly while fidgeting with his shirt collar. “I’m fairly certain everyone here knows me, since you can’t really know Bambi without knowing me, too.” He taps his fingers against his glass as he ponders his next move. “I, um…” You squeeze his hand where it rests on his thigh and a smile creeps onto his face, his eyes briefly catching your supportive gaze. “Jihyo’s right, this wasn’t planned, not even a little bit, but it was without a doubt the best surprise of my life.”
Jungkook’s ears go red to match the blush painting his cheeks.
“I’m so incredibly thankful to call her my best friend and the mother of my child. I know I’ll never be able to repay her for everything she’s going through to bring our little one into the world. Her body and mind have been through hell and I’ve spent my entire life chasing away whatever may bring her pain and sorrow, so it’s been really challenging to feel so helpless. But she handles everything so beautifully, with so much grace and understanding, and I grow more in awe of her with every passing day.”
He takes a deep breath and faces you with his glass held high.
“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Bams, and there’s nothing you deserve more than to be celebrated for everything you do and will do in the future as a mother. I love you more than words can describe, Y/N.”
You gasp, your hands slapping against your mouth as tears immediately threaten your waterline. It’s been nearly two decades since the last time you heard the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, and you don’t think the syllables have ever sounded so beautiful.
Jungkook smiles devilishly at the exact reaction he was hoping to pull from you.
Your head falls forward as you cry into your palms, the kindhearted words from both him and Jihyo making your heart clench from all the love it’s receiving. Jungkook returns to his seat to console you, letting you cry on his shoulder instead.
“You said my name,” you whimper.
The sound of his low chuckle meets your ears.
“Don’t get used to it, Bambi.”
He places multiple kisses between the strands of your hair and wipes the remaining tears away after you raise your head. If you weren’t currently surrounded by loved ones, you’d kiss him senseless and probably drop to your knees if you’re being totally honest.
When you glance around the room after falling back into your chair with a sigh, you notice your mom dabbing her waterline with a tissue while his mom reapplies the makeup under her eyes. You giggle and nudge Jungkook to show him, and he joins in your adoration of the two women with a loving shake of his head.
Following dinner, your four friends run a series of typical baby shower games, some of which are guessing games while others require basic baby knowledge.
You barely partake in the festivities yourself, too busy goofing off with Jungkook as he writes the most incorrect answers imaginable. The two of you laugh hysterically through every question as if you’re the only ones present, despite being the sole reason for the celebration.
An executive decision is made to open gifts at home rather than have everyone watch you ooh and aww at baby trinkets for an hour. It’s far more appealing to you to walk around and mingle with your loved ones, which is precisely what you do after dessert.
“It’s the woman of the hour!” Yunjin cheers as you place yourself on Chaewon’s lap and rest your head on her shoulder.
“Thank you guys so much for coming,” you tell them.
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hoseok states.
“We’re so happy for you, Y/N, and we’re so excited to be aunts and uncles,” Namjoon says.
“Also, are you and Jungkook like… a thing, because eyes don’t lie and that man is googoo gaga for you,” Eunchae asks.
“And it’s not like you’re any better,” Yoongi adds.
You nibble on your lip as your eyes peruse the room and land on Jungkook’s silhouette standing beside your dads.
“No, at least, not officially, but something’s definitely changed recently,” you answer honestly.
“How so?” Jin asks.
“You guys know how we went through that awful miscarriage scare last month?” They all nod. “Well, ever since then it feels like the energy’s shifted. Neither of us have said anything, but I know we both feel it. I mean, I’ve slept in his bed every night since, we constantly kiss outside of sexual activities, and we’ve started casually calling each other baby.”
“Oh, so you guys are like, in love love,” Jimin states.
“I don’t know,” you respond. “He’s always taken up nearly my entire heart, but I’m still figuring out if he’s finally got a monopoly on it or not.”
“Y/N, honey, you said so yourself you’ve never been happier,” Chaewon notes. “Don’t overthink it.”
You flash her a grateful smile as a thank you for her advice before telling them you’ll see them later and going to converse with your other guests.
At one point, you realize you haven’t seen Taehyung or Mina in a while and do a once over of the room. When you spot them cuddled up in the back corner giggling to each other, you smirk. They hooked up once a few years ago before Mina started dating Mingyu, and you would be more than happy to see them rekindle their affair.
You catch Jungkook’s attention from across the room and point to them as nonchalantly as possible. When his eyes land on them, they light up and he makes a proud OK sign with his hand.
Some people stay for a while and others wish you good luck with the delivery before sunset, but by the time Jungkook is done loading all the presents in your dad’s truck, only your parents remain.
“Oh, shit, I don’t have a car,” Jungkook states when he returns for a final sweep of the room. “I drove over here with Tzuyu.”
It wouldn’t normally be an issue since you and him could drive home together, but for storage purposes your parents are taking the gifts home and he has to follow behind your dad to help bring them inside.
“Just take my car and I’ll go with my mom,” you suggest.
Everyone exchanges goodbyes and you tell Jungkook you’ll see him later at home. He bends down to kiss your cheek after you hug him, and it forces you to hide a radiant blush crawling up your face and neck.
It’s familiar being in the passenger seat of your mom’s car, although it's been a while. She drives through the city towards your house with the radio on low, but you can already tell she’s itching to speak.
“Sweetie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” Sensing where this is going, you inhale exasperatedly. “No, don’t give me excuses. I know you’ve been keeping things from me because you don’t want me to get my hopes up.”
You sit back in your seat, your arms crossing over each other.
“It’s just not any of your business, Mom,” you tell her.
“I don’t need to know everything, especially that stuff, but I can tell you have a lot on your mind. And I know something is going on. I see the way you look at him and how he looks at you. It’s not the same as it was before.” She squeezes your thigh lovingly. “Just talk to me, sweetheart.”
“There… there isn’t much to say.” She sends a disapproving glance in your direction. “Okay, yeah, maybe things have changed, but I don’t know in what way yet. I think we’re both happy with the way things are and don’t feel a need to label it or discuss it. Maybe once the baby’s born, we will.”
“Are you alright with that? You usually tell Jungkook everything the very moment it enters your mind.”
“It’s different this time. I’m not afraid to tell him or worry I’ll get rejected, but it just feels like we’re in this perfect bubble of joy and love and I don’t want to pop it.”
“What if it doesn’t pop, though? What if it makes the bubble even stronger?”
You toss her words around in your mind, nodding your head as your brain parses through the information.
“That would be nice.”
“I’m not trying to pressure you, sweetie, and I don’t want you to ever take my feelings into account when yours are the only ones that matter, but I want all the happiness in the world for you and that boy is heaven sent.”
“Yeah,” you agree with a smile. “He is. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
“That would be me,” she proudly reminds you.
You laugh with your head thrown back. And to think, the only reason you’re all here today is because their university randomly assigned them to be roommates.
She drops you off at home with a hug and kiss on your cheek. Once inside, you hear Usagi meowing in annoyance at someone and when you round the corner, you see Jungkook rolling her back and forth on the couch as though she’s a furry rolling pin. He merely giggles at her indignation and attacks her little head with kisses.
“Leave my daughter alone, will you?”
“Hey, she’s my daughter, too,” Jungkook retorts with a pout. When he turns over his shoulder to see you, the pout’s long gone and been replaced by a peaceful smile. “Did you have fun tonight, Bambi?”
He stands to full height and slides his hands into his pockets, still dressed in his attire from the evening sans the sport coat. His poor dress shirt is barely holding on by a thread where it lays across his chest, the buttons holding on for dear life to fit over the contours of his pecs. The slacks he’s wearing aren’t doing much better, with the black fabric stretched tight to accommodate the muscular thighs beneath. It makes both your mouth and pussy water.
“Of course, I did! I can’t thank you enough, Koo,” you say while meeting him by the couch.
“There’s no need to thank me, baby. You deserve it.”
“Well, I can think of something that you deserve in return,” you propose using the sultry eyes you know he melts for everytime.
His eyebrows twitch upwards, an anticipatory smile growing as he holds your gaze. Instead of waiting for a reply, your hand shoves at his shoulder to send him tumbling backwards into the couch. Knees automatically spreading wide open for you, you use your leverage on his thighs to kneel before him.
“Bams, you don’t have to,” he tells you, but his hand is already in your hair as you unbuckle his belt.
“I want to.” You bend down to kiss him over his boxers once his pants are in a puddle around his ankles. “I want to so fucking bad, baby.”
Jungkook moans when your tongue presses down on the fabric and causes his dick to twitch. You quickly pull the garment down his legs and let it fall atop his slacks. He’s already sporting a semi that makes your thighs clench, the sight of his thick cock slowly becoming one of your favorites.
Pumping him with your hand, you kiss and bite his thick thighs until he’s rock hard and leaking precum down your palm. You lick over his slit with a hungry moan and Jungkook throws his head back against the couch in response.
“Oh, babygirl, that feels so fucking good.”
His hand becomes a ponytail, pulling all the strands away from your face so you can work unhindered and he has a clear view of you sucking him off.
Your lips leisurely wrap around his head while you stare into his steadily darkening eyes. When you use suction and torturously swirl your tongue beneath the ridge separating the head from his shaft, Jungkook’s hips buck up involuntarily and you have to hold him still by his thighs. Slowly, all without ever looking away, you sink lower and lower until you’re gagging around him because he’s scratching the back of your throat.
Jungkook cries out in pleasure, his free hand grasping desperately onto one of yours to give him something to hold onto.
Swallowing a couple times while he’s buried deep in your throat, you allow a teasingly long moment to pass before finally sticking your tongue out and bobbing your head along his cock. He groans deliriously and his thighs shake as you sloppily work your mouth over him, doing so because you know exactly how much he loves to see the drool spilling from your lips.
“Good girl, that’s my good fucking girl,” Jungkook praises nonsensically. “Mouth was fucking made for me.”
When you moan around him in agreement, your spit meets his balls below and you use it as an excuse to play with them in your free hand. Jungkook’s jaw clenches and the hand holding yours harshly squishes your digits together. You change gears upon the realization of how worked up the action makes him, sucking one of his balls into your mouth and replacing your tight throat with your hand.
“Oh, Jesus, Bams,” he shouts as you suckle the sensitive skin.
After languidly curling your tongue around him for a moment, you switch and repeat the treatment for the other one, mirroring the pace of your hand to match the way your tongue works his sack. Returning to the main event, you flatten your tongue along the underside of his shaft until reaching the tip and spitting on him so you can bring him between your lips again.
Unfortunately, you’re only able to take him into your warm throat a few more times before he’s pulling you away by your hair.
You pout and place your hands on your hips.
“Koo, I wanna swallow your cum.”
“Nuh uh, I’m gonna put another fucking baby in you,” he states, his eyes completely overtaken by lust.
Jungkook manhandles you like a ragdoll until you’re face down ass up on the couch with him situated behind you. His hands grab the bottom hem of your dress and flip it upwards to reveal your underwear, which you only realize he rips off of you when you hear the sound of the fabric tearing.
“Koo!”
“Don’t complain when you know I can buy you a thousand more.” His fingers immediately find your pussy to check if you’re wet enough, and when you hear the pleased chuckle from behind you, you know he’s got his answer. “You got this wet just from sucking me off, baby?”
You nod your head and Jungkook smacks your ass hard enough to leave a mark.
“Yes!” Jungkook hums in satisfaction and you whine when he soothes the burn with his palm. “Jungkook, baby, please fuck me.”
You compliment your begging by wiggling your ass, and Jungkook moans appreciatively at the sight, his fingers grasping your flesh possessively. He slowly runs his dick along your sopping wet folds and you automatically keen and whimper for more. His movements continue that way for a tauntingly long amount of time, teasing you with just enough to keep you from going crazy. The only relief you’re given is when his tip brushes against your sensitive nub and provides you with delicious friction.
An angrier version of your prior instruction is about to leave your mouth when Jungkook brutally spears you on his cock. In one single stroke he’s entirely sheathed within your walls and you scream out in ecstasy while your head falls forward. His pace can only be described as goddamn insane, or maybe those are just the only words you can think of when the huge dick ramming into your pussy is making your brain blank.
From behind Jungkook’s tip kisses your cervix with every thrust and you moan without restraint as he monstrously fucks your cunt open. His hand returns to your hair, the other one clutching the back of the couch so he can keep a steady rhythm. You feel his wet balls slapping your clit with every stroke and it makes you bite down on the skin of your hand.
“Gonna fucking ruin you, Bams,” he warns. “I don’t want you to be able to walk tomorrow, you got that?”
“Fuck, yes,” you agree without a second thought.
You can stay in bed all day for all you care, all you want is for Jungkook to keep stretching you apart and making you his. You don’t want your pussy to remember any other shape but his cock, want your flesh to memorize every ridge and vein so it knows exactly who’s coming home when he enters you.
Jungkook was already close when he started fucking you, so he’s doing everything he can for you to reach the same precipice. He repeatedly slams his hips into your ass as he yanks hard enough on your hair that he can almost see your eyes from his position. His hand wraps around your throat, pressing down on your jugular until his fingers leave blotchy, red marks. A second later, he’s forcing you upright until your back meets his chest and he traps you there by looping his other arm beneath your tits.
The new angle makes you whine pathetically as he buries his dick so deep you feel him in your throat.
“Baby, holy shit.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook licks the sweat off your neck. “Whose pussy is this, baby?”
“Yours,” you moan weakly.
You would be more than willing to scream from the rooftops just how much your body belongs to him, but you can’t exactly speak very loud when you’re choking on the euphoria he’s providing you.
Coincidentally, your volume isn’t good enough for Jungkook.
“Louder,” he growls right into your ear.
“It’s yours, Jungkook!”
“That’s fucking right.”
His hand leaves your neck after gently constricting your airway to massage your clit instead, pushing two of his fingers into your mouth to lubricate them first. He circles and presses down hard on the nub to make you keen and throw your head back against his shoulder. He utterly devours your neck from behind, his spit coating your skin in a pretty sheen as he moves from one spot to the next.
You feel his hand disappear from your pussy and whine disapprovingly, but then his middle fingers are sliding into your mouth again so you can suck your juices off his digits. Erotically licking around and between his fingers, you hollow your cheeks and suck so he can feel your tight throat again.
He groans and bites on your earlobe.
“So good for me, Bambi,” he whispers darkly. “You’re fucking perfect, baby.”
He removes his fingers from your mouth and they return to your cunt, rubbing your clit in fast circles to get you to where you need to be.
“I’m — fuck. I’m close, Koo.”
“Atta girl. Come on this fat cock,” he commands.
Jungkook releases you and pushes you down by your shoulder blades, forcing your cheek into the cushions as you arch and match his cadence by thrusting your hips backwards. You scream into the fabric when he speeds up and abuses your hole at a demonic pace.
The clapping is obscene and deafening, and you’re fairly certain you hear his pans rattling in the kitchen from where they hang down.
Your climax builds to an impossible level before crashing over you like a tsunami wave of pure pleasure. There’s a combination of drool and tears left behind on the couch cushions. The room goes white when your vision blanks, your legs twitching along with your pussy as the orgasm tears through you and you helplessly sob Jungkook’s name.
The feeling of Jungkook’s seed filling your cunt makes you cry his name repeatedly like a prayer, the sensation of it dripping down your thighs heavenly enough to make your eyesight blur.
Jungkook pants irregularly for a while before pulling out and resting on your back, the two of you toppling down and lying flat against the couch as your bodies return to normalcy.
“Goddamn, Bambi,” Jungkook huffs.
“Me?”
Jungkook just laughs breathlessly, kissing your cheek through the curtain of your hair.
You remain as deadweight together on the couch until you finally feel whole enough to return to earth, and once you do, you walk hand-in-hand to Jungkook’s bedroom to catch a good night’s sleep.
A couple days later, after you can indeed walk properly again, you’re completing miscellaneous chores around the house while Jungkook finishes securing the furniture in the nursery.
It’s already been an outrageously long day, especially with the weight of your unborn child applying a disastrous amount of pressure on your lower back. Your little one’s recent growth spurt makes it nearly impossible to stand for longer than thirty minutes without reprieve. When Jungkook comes downstairs and notices you rubbing your lower back with one hand while white-knuckling the counter with the other, he rushes to you and replaces your hand with his own to massage your spine.
“Oh, thank you,” you sigh in relief.
“I got you, babygirl,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder. A moment later he seemingly remembers something, an adorable noise of realization coming from beside you. “Wait, I saw something on the internet I wanted to try.”
“Jungkook, no.”
“No, wait, Bams, it’s supposed to help!”
You eye him dangerously over your shoulder, alerting him without a word that if this is a prank he’ll be in for a rude awakening.
He ignores your warning glance and uses his hands to stand you upright. You feel his arms circling you to hold beneath your baby bump and you’re ready to ask what he’s doing when suddenly the weight of your womb and the pressure on your back disappears.
Looking down, you see Jungkook holding your stomach up for you, relieving the ache and allowing you to breathe freely.
“Oh, wow, that’s really nice,” you mumble as your head falls to his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I’ll do it as long as you like, Bams,” he tells you honestly.
He does exactly that, holding the weight of your unborn child on your behalf for about ten minutes while you relish in the feeling of being weightless for a while. The act eventually joins his foot rubs and serenades as a part of your regular routine.
You’re lounging on the couch reading another parenting book while Jungkook plays a video game with your feet in his lap. It’s actually a test run for the game he’s been designing, and Jimin was absolutely right about him giving your character huge boobs. They’re tasteful, though, and you don’t mind because she’s a total badass.
The game is currently distracting you from your book when you feel a strange sensation in your belly. You jump a little, looking down at your baby bump which is on display since you’re only wearing a bralette. The sensation happens again, and now that you’re watching intently, you see something move beneath your skin.
Gasping in excitement, you begin hitting Jungkook with your book to grab his attention.
“Koo! Koo! The baby is kicking,” you shout even though he’s inches away from you.
His reaction is instantaneous, pausing the game and tossing the controller unceremoniously on the couch. Your hand traverses your belly so you can feel the next kick, and when you do, it makes you squeal and giggle in amazement.
“Here, give me your hand,” you say and he stretches his arm towards you in response.
Placing his hand where you felt the movement, you wait and watch his face instead of your belly, wanting to see his reaction when he feels his baby move for the first time. The sensation comes, and you see Jungkook’s brow crease before his whole face lights up, his big brown eyes sparkling brighter than any star in the galaxy.
“That’s… that’s our little one?” He asks in awe. You nod repeatedly and he smiles so big it takes up his entire face. “Hi, baby,” he coos in adoration, bending down to kiss all over your stomach.
They kick again while he’s smooching you and he yelps in surprise at the feeling.
You’re both blushing and giggling like schoolgirls with a crush, already so completely spellbound by your child.
Jungkook carefully crawls over you to kiss you, but it’s all teeth and tongue because you can’t stop smiling even while trying to lock lips. You whimper in pain after a moment and Jungkook pulls back to check on you, his hand rising to caress your cheek.
“Seems our baby found my spine to kick instead,” you groan.
Jungkook frowns and runs his thumb along your cheekbone.
“I guess wanting them to grow up to be a soccer player isn’t such a good thing after all,” he notes. Then, a thought occurs to him and his eyes light up again while he giggles to himself. “Hey, guess what?”
“Hmm?”
“Bambi.” He points to you. “And Thumper.” He points to your bump.
An endeared giggle completely overtakes your body, the back of your head hitting the arm of the couch while you rapidly kick your feet.
“That’s so cute, Koo!” You hold his face in your hands. “Our family Halloween costumes are gonna be freaking adorable!”
Jungkook’s expression turns saccharine as his eyes trace over your features in wonderment, and his gaze makes you realize it’s the first time you’re referring to yourselves as a family. The notion is obvious, but hearing the word aloud causes both your hearts to leap into your throat. You share in an adoring chuckle again, your foreheads meeting as you serenely close your eyes.
EIGHT
Jungkook blares “It’s the Final Countdown” from his Bluetooth speaker as he enthusiastically skips around the living room, both Bam and Usagi trailing after him in wonder. You’re too busy laughing from your place on the couch to join them.
Today is exactly one month from your due date, and you’re prepared for this to be the single longest month of your life. The last eight have felt more like eight years, but you’re so close to the promised land, and you can hardly wait to bring your little one home. If you’re lucky, the baby may even come a little early and save you some heartache.
And the heartache is literal, since one of the latest symptoms to add itself to the disastrous mix is intense heartburn. Couple that with the incessant kicking your child’s been getting up to lately, and your entire torso feels like it’s under siege.
Jungkook does everything he can to help, such as constantly passing you Tums and playfully scolding your baby to stop kicking so much. He even went so far as to lace up his boxing gloves and have a sparring match with your baby bump. The extreme laughter born from his antics ended up hurting your stomach more than the kicking.
The chemistry between you has been steadily increasing for some time, the line between friends and lovers practically blurring into obscurity, but you both welcome the feeling with open arms.
You don’t find it necessary to broach the topic. You and Jungkook have never needed words to communicate, always knowing precisely what the other is thinking with a single glance, and it’s no different in this scenario.
Every time your eyes meet you know he feels the same; you’re no longer just best friends, and that’s alright.
About a week later you’re in the nursery together working on some finishing touches to the decor. Jungkook is hanging the mobile above the crib while you place the astronomical amount of clothes you received from your surprise baby shower in the closet. The nursery is positively jam packed from all the gifts people gave you last month, every corner of the room bursting with clothes, books, toys, and accessories. Even though the ample amount of supplies is overwhelming, knowing your little one is already so loved makes you abundantly happy.
Chaewon even crocheted the perfect gender neutral blanket, despite her original complaints about the gender being unknown.
Since the gender is a surprise, you and Jungkook haven’t discussed baby names all that much. Some general ideas have been thrown around, including family names and a sarcastic suggestion of “JJ” for Jungkook Jr. But you both share in the, perhaps naive, belief that as soon as you see them you’ll somehow know exactly what their name should be.
Jungkook’s work phone rings, and you briefly glance over your shoulder to see him exiting the room as he answers the call. Usagi happily trots inside with the door wide open and curls up in the little reading nook. You give her some well deserved head pats while she purrs in content before continuing with your assigned task. Once all the clothes are either hung up or housed in the proper drawers, you leave the room to check on Jungkook.
When you find him after descending the stairs, he’s standing at the kitchen island drinking a glass of water which he slams down once it’s empty. Your eyebrows quirk up at the harsh motion, wondering what the call could’ve been about to elicit such a reaction.
“Koo, is everything alright?”
Jungkook shakes his head and rests his elbows on the counter so he can cradle his head in his hands.
“They need me to go to Japan for a meeting with some execs,” he tells you.
“For how long?”
“Three days minimum, but it could be up to a week.”
“A week? Jungkook, I’m more than eight months pregnant.”
“Yeah, I know, Bambi, I told them that!” He explains in exasperation. “Fuck, this sucks so bad.”
You take a deep breath so at least one of you remains calm. Once you’re beside him, you attempt to massage the tension away from his back and shoulders.
“It’ll be okay. Japan is only a short airplane ride away. Worst comes to worst, you fly back if I go into labor,” you state.
“It’s not just if you go into labor, Bams. This is our last month before the baby is born. We’ve still got a ton to do!”
“The nursery is almost done, and either of our parents or friends can come over to help me clean and baby proof the house.” You tug on his shoulder so he turns around before cupping his face in your hands. “It’ll be fine, baby, I promise.”
Jungkook sighs before nuzzling his head against your hand, pursing his lips to press a couple chaste kisses to your palm. Afterwards he removes your hands from his face altogether to hold them between his own.
“I just don’t want to be away from you, baby,” he admits. “Not now and especially not for that long.”
Your cheeks grow warm in response to his words and you attempt to pacify his melancholy by giving him a tender kiss on the lips.
“I don’t want to be away from you, either, but I’m sure it will go by in the blink of an eye,” you reassure him.
He aggressively pouts, practically giving himself duck lips, despite knowing it’s the truth. He brings you to his chest for a hug and you snuggle deeper into the embrace, allowing his familiar, comforting scent to encompass you.
You still have the weekend together before Jungkook flies out early Monday morning. You spend the majority of the time cuddling on the couch watching your favorite movies and playing with your fur babies as Bam chases a bone and Usagi hunts for the laser pointer. It’s heartwarmingly domestic and you hope it’ll always be this way, especially once your baby arrives.
Whenever you’re lounging around, Jungkook always lies as close as possible to your belly and it warms your heart to watch his fingers trace little hearts and smiley faces across your skin.
Even after eight months he still upholds the tradition of coming downstairs first thing in the morning and caressing your baby bump while whispering “hi, my little papaya.” The only difference now is the adorable behavior is immediately followed by him pecking your lips and whispering “hi, my baby” to you.
You’re fully aware that when Monday rolls around you’re going to be a total basket case. The two of you haven’t been apart for more than a day since you got pregnant, and the thought of going a whole week without him when you’re this close to the finish line is borderline unbearable.
Especially because your third trimester hormones have turned you into a raving lunatic as of late. Crocodile tears form in your eyes over nearly everything and your temper flips on a dime, which you always profusely apologize to Jungkook for whenever he’s on the receiving end. Two weeks ago, you found a dead spider on the ground and started weeping hysterically, so it’s safe to say the time away from Jungkook is going to leave you a complete mess.
When you do say goodbye, you make a valiant effort at staying strong, but then Jungkook kisses you reverently, both his hands cupping your cheeks as he pours every once of his devotion into your mouth and you shatter into a million pieces. Your tears get trapped between your faces as your lips mold together, but Jungkook diligently wipes them away when he parts from you.
His forehead presses to yours when he whispers that he loves you and he’ll be back soon before departing with a final grace of his lips to your brow.
You wail Disney Princess style on his bed as soon as the door clicks shut behind you. It’s downright pathetic, but you don’t care because Usagi is the sole witness to your display. The sheets smell like him and it only serves to make matters worse. It’s only been five minutes and you feel like you miss him down to your very bones already.
Even though he’s far away, you still sleep in his bed rather than your own. You haven’t slept in the guest bedroom originally meant for you in well over two months, and it feels wrong to stay there just because he’s gone.
Jungkook remains in constant contact with you, which helps ease the heartache of being apart. He messages you at every milestone, from the moment he arrives at the airport, to when his plane lands, and then again when he reaches the hotel. He sends photos and selfies, too, which fills you with exuberant warmth while simultaneously bringing on more tears.
You wallow in self-pity the whole first day, eating an entire tub of ice cream while you watch cheesy romantic comedies. Various friends and family come over the following day to help around the house, which you genuinely appreciate more than words can describe because there is still so much to do. On the third morning without Jungkook, your moms visit and the three of you chat over sparkling grape juice about anything and everything to expect.
They explain all the intimate details of the birthing process they can remember, such as what contractions and labor feel like, and how the brief hospital stay will go prior to bringing the baby home. Your mom goes into grave detail about how awful you’ll feel afterwards and Jungkook’s mom adds more pack to the punch by mentioning how difficult caring for a newborn is while healing from the delivery.
They assure you everything will be fine, though, and that they’ll be here everyday if you need them. The three of you also agree you truly have nothing to worry about when you have someone as wonderful as Jungkook to care for you.
“Why did you guys want to be pregnant at the same time so badly anyway?” You ask them out of pure curiosity.
“Well, truth be told, and don’t tell Kookie this, but we were actually hoping you would both be girls so we could have this adorable, little, four way mother-daughter relationship,” Jungkook’s mom tells you.
You chuckle at her admission and your mind begins to wonder just how different your life would be if that had been the case.
“Honestly, though, this outcome is so much better!” Your mom exclaims. “Now we get to be grandparents together.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t part of the plan,” you state.
“Not at first, no,” Jungkook’s mom says. “But I think we knew as you guys got older, especially after college, that it was only a matter of time.”
“You know, you guys aren’t the only people to say that and I genuinely don’t get it,” you say. “I’m head over heels for him now, no doubt about it, but before, I truly didn’t see him that way. I mean, we grew up together, we were closer than most brothers and sisters are for the majority of our lives.”
“I don’t think it’s about how you felt at the time,” your mom explains. “I think it’s the way you interact, how much you care about one another. There’s one else who could ever give you the love you deserve more than each other.”
As you process her comment, the cogwheels in your mind synthesize and you finally understand what everyone’s been telling you all this time. What Nayeon said about your feelings for him being more than those of a relationship and Chaewon telling you not to overthink things. No one’s presented the notion to you this way before, and something about your mother’s words causes everything to click into place.
You’re together now because it’s as easy as breathing, and whether you initially had romantic feelings for each other or not, no one can compare.
On day four you’re alone again and you go genuinely stir crazy. Poor Bam has to take the brunt of your brief mental insanity as you cry into his fur and lay across him in a desperate attempt to gain some sort of warmth and comfort.
Although, you don’t need his services for long, because Jungkook calls like he has every night, but this time he has good news.
“Guess who’s coming home early tomorrow?”
“Really?” You shout into the receiver, your hands still covered in chip dust from eating your feelings.
“Yup, first flight out of here tomorrow morning,” he tells you.
“Ah! Koo, I’m so excited!”
“Me, too, baby,” he says. “I miss you like crazy, been thinking about you 24/7.”
“Me, too,” you respond. “I think our little one misses you, too. They’ve been restless ever since you left.”
“Have you been playing the mixtape for them?”
“Yes, but it isn’t the same, and I honestly think they’ve gotten picky about it. Live vocals are just so much better, you know?”
Jungkook chuckles and even through the phone you can tell he’s smiling.
“I’ll make sure to serenade them immediately upon my return,” he states.
“Nuh uh!” You pout even though he can’t see you. “I take priority here, mister.”
“Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry, Bams,” he laughs. “You’ll always be my number one.”
The two of you continue to talk about your respective days for a while. Jungkook explains all the cool gaming stuff he’s gotten to see while at the headquarters in Japan and you parry with your accomplishment of watching all five Twilight movies in a single day. You reluctantly hang up after a couple hours with a quick “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Tomorrow ends up being a complete disaster.
There’s extreme thunderstorms throughout the entire region, so as soon as you wake up, you see a text from Jungkook informing you his flight’s been delayed by about two hours. It’s no biggie at first, knowing these things happen and it shouldn’t keep him from you for that much longer. But one delay turns to two, which becomes three, and after eight delays, his flight is finally moved to an entirely different airline and won’t be arriving until the following day at approximately three in the morning.
He tells you not to wait up for him and get your sleep, but there’s no way in hell you’re waiting even another second to see him.
Even once he lands, it’s still down pouring and the taxi takes another thirty minutes to reach him. He gives you periodic updates, including some heartbreaking selfies of him pouting by the luggage carousel, but despite being able see his handsome face through the phone, it’s all so frustrating you could rip your hair right out of your head.
By the time his location icon starts moving towards the house, you’ve been pacing the floor like a mad woman for close to an hour.
Your incessant pacing screeches to a halt when you hear the sound of his footsteps bounding up the stairs and the key turning in the lock. You scurry across the floor as fast as your swollen, pregnant feet will carry you, waiting just behind the door for the reveal of your favorite sight in the world. Although, when the door swings open, you don’t get the chance to admire him before your face is squished against his.
The very moment Jungkook sees you, he takes your face in his hands and smashes his lips on yours as though he’ll die if he doesn’t. His hungry mouth silences your noise of surprise, coaxing your mouth open and allowing his tongue to invade the space as he kisses you until you can’t see straight. Muscle memory makes it all too easy for him to guide you away from the door and into the wall. You moan when your back meets the hard surface and Jungkook groans in satisfaction at the sound, using his hips to trap you between him and the drywall.
The warm hands on your skin, taut body flush to yours, and delicious mouth utterly devouring you completely shuts down your senses until all you can see, hear, smell, taste, and feel are him.
Hands reaching up to grab the collar of his shirt, you tug him impossibly close, even though your bodies are already touching in every place possible. He’s kissing you like he never has before and somehow you still want more. Your hands release the fabric to traverse the planes of his chest and hold his shoulders, eventually moving upwards to caress his neck and jaw.
He’s completely soaked from the rain, his hair dripping cold water droplets onto your skin and his soiled clothes transferring the liquid onto your own, but there isn’t a single piece of you that minds. He can drench you in acid for all you care, as long as he stays this close and keeps kissing you like this.
Jungkook pulls a centimeter away, his lips still brushing yours as he breathes erratically as though he ran all the way from the airport.
“I’m so in love with you,” he pants. “I’m fucking crazy about you, Bambi.” He shakes his head in disbelief of his confidence to finally confess. “I was going to wait to tell you until after the baby’s born, but being away from you was fucking torture and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”
“Hold it in? How long have you felt this way?”
Your eyes stare into his with wonder.
“Since we thought we were gonna lose the baby,” he tells you. “I was driving you to the doctor’s office and it felt like the whole world was crashing down around me, but then I realized that’s okay. That if that happened, it wouldn’t matter. The zombie apocalypse could destroy all of humanity, the tectonic plates could shift and send entire continents into the sea, and it wouldn’t matter as long as I have you.” He inhales while gently shaking his head and spraying you with rainwater. “And that’s not new, I’ve always felt that way about you. I’ve always known I want you by my side for the rest of my life, but it made me realize I don’t want anyone else by my side. I only want you, baby.”
“Jungkook, you kept that from me for two months?” You ask incredulously.
“We have a lot going on at the moment, Bams,” he explains.
“Sure, but the stuff we have going on is stressful. Your feelings for me aren’t stressful.”
Jungkook’s eyes burn with intensity as he analyzes the meaning of your words.
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Why aren’t they stressful, Bambi?”
“Because.” You shrug like what you’re about to say is the most obvious truth of the universe. “Well, because I’m in love with y — mmpf.”
Jungkook ceases the remainder of your confession with a divine kiss. Your mouths move in perfect harmony and you swear you see the sun peaking through the rain clouds outside. It doesn’t seem possible, but you can feel every ounce of Jungkook’s love for you on his tongue as it traces your lips and tangles with your own.
“Say it again,” he requests. “Please.”
“I’m in love with you.”
“Again, don’t stop.”
“I love you.” Kiss. “I’m so, stupidly, madly.” Kiss. “Crazy in love with you, Jungkook.” Kiss. “I love you so much.” Kiss. “I love you more than anything.” Kiss. “More than I’ll ever be able to describe.” Kiss. “Jungkook.” Kiss. “You’re my everything.” Kiss. “I love you, Koo.”
You aren’t able to chant your emotions anymore because Jungkook doesn’t give you time to breathe, let alone speak.
His hands are still firmly cradling your face, both your lips refusing to part from one another for a single second. He tastes like honey and vanilla, most likely from the sweets you know he had on the plane. It’s addicting and hypnotizes you completely until all you can think about is him and all you can do is kiss him with all your might.
Jungkook’s hands travel to the back of your head and tangle in your hair. He uses the leverage to tilt your head so he can kiss across your jaw and neck, biting down softly before sucking over the same spot and making you whimper helplessly for him.
The attention on your neck only lasts momentarily before he’s releasing you to grab your ass instead, but you stop him by gripping his biceps.
“Baby, you can’t lift me right now, I’m too heavy,” you warn him.
Jungkook looks so offended he takes two full steps away from you, one of his eyebrows rising in disbelief as his jaw ticks. He even goes so far as to scoff while cracking his neck. Then, for the sole purpose of proving you wrong, he effortlessly lifts you into his arms and you have to scramble to latch onto him with your arms around his neck and legs around his waist.
“You wanna try that again, Bams?”
“No,” you grumble under your breath.
The sound of his proud chuckle meets your ears as he seamlessly carries up the stairs and into his bedroom. He tosses you unceremoniously onto the bed, your body bouncing when you land as you giggle in excitement.
You wait for him to join you, reaching towards him with a pout when he isn’t instantly on top of you, but he only rests one knee on the edge of the mattress.
“Wait, since when have you known?”
“Honestly?” Jungkook nods rapidly. “I have no fucking clue. It’s just like my nickname. I have no idea when or where it happened. I just know all of the sudden you were the first thing on my mind when I woke up, and I got butterflies when we were together, and I wanted to hold your hand, cuddle you, and go on dates. It’s like I just woke up one day and realized I fell in love with you but have no way of tracing it to an exact origin.”
Jungkook smiles and shakes his head knowingly.
“That’s so you.”
“I know, I’m a freaking space cadet!”
“My space cadet,” Jungkook says, finally moving to hover above you. “Also, I know how you got your nickname.”
“Huh?” You frown deeply. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve always known, but I thought it was cute that none of you could remember,” he explains. “It felt like it was my own little secret.”
“Koo!”
Jungkook laughs while scrunching his nose in adoration, his arms shaking where they rest on either side of your head.
“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you. We were watching the movie in my living room and you just wouldn’t stop crying after Bambi’s mom died, like full blown hysterical tears. So, to cheer you up I said ‘it’s okay, Bambi,’ and you smiled SO big and your eyes lit up like fireworks. I knew then it had to be your nickname.”
Your lip catches between your teeth as you will the sentimental tears not to fall. The notion of Jungkook knowing this whole time is both infuriating and also so heartwarming; that his nickname for you is so precious to him he didn’t dare share the secret of its beginning.
“That’s so you,” you reply to his story.
He radiantly beams at you, his cheeks and ears turning bright pink from the blush spreading across them. You share in your affectionate laughter as he drops to his elbows so he can kiss you.
“I love you so much, Bambi,” he whispers. “You’re everything to me, baby.”
The tears you successfully held back before make their debut, wetting both his and your cheeks as they roll away from your eyes.
Even though you’ve known for a while now this confession was imminent, it’s still just as mesmerizing to hear the words from his lips and be able to say them in return.
The kiss begins with fluid, languid motions, your mouths dancing together for the millionth time, but then Jungkook raises the temperature of the room, greedily licking into your mouth and tugging on your lower lip with his teeth before letting it snap into place. The air fills with moans and whines as you make out, but you stop him with a hand to his chest when you feel him grinding against you.
“Wait, Koo, sex can induce labor,” you tell him.
“Okay,” he draws out the word. “So, we get it on and meet our little one a bit early, isn’t that a win-win situation?”
You chuckle and mentally berate yourself for believing his answer would be anything besides that. Rolling your eyes with an affectionate smile, you briefly peck his lips before smacking his ass.
“Deal, but I’m getting on top.”
Jungkook certainly isn’t going to object to you riding his dick.
He holds you by the waist and rolls you both over, helping you settle in his lap and caressing your outline as his eyes memorize the vision of you above him. His fingers grip the bottom of your shirt to pull it over your head and then he does the same for his own.
You don’t let him continue undressing, too mesmerized by his chiseled torso to allow the sight to be hindered. He’s been working out more these last few months as a way to unwind from the stress of preparing for fatherhood, and it’s definitely paid off. You’ve always known how blessed you are to have him, but moments like this remind you just how blessed you truly are.
His neck is your initial target while your hands run along his abs, sinking your nails into the hard lines and creating red marks across his pretty muscles. Jungkook whines at the feeling, his hand reactively grabbing the back of your head as you mark his neck with pretty, wet blotches.
“Please don’t tease me, baby,” he says. “I need you so fucking bad.”
“You’re the one who left me alone for five days,” you reply in between kisses to his jugular. “I’ll take however long I want.”
Taking your time traversing his shoulder and collarbones, you trace over every muscle and bone with your lips, soaking his skin as your tongue drags across the area. His hand keeps a firm grip on your head, slightly guiding your movements, but still allowing you to savor his upper body despite his request. You bite into his pecs and circle his nipple with your tongue, making his hips bucks beneath you as he groans.
You giggle like the brat you are at his neediness, already feeling his cock stiffening where your core rests against his crotch.
It honestly takes an exuberant amount of effort to stop painting his torso in kisses, reluctantly pulling away after licking across the entire expanse of his stomach down to his hips and placing a single smooch on all eight of his abdominal muscles.
Jungkook forces your lips to meet his when you’re done, kissing you like he’s starving for you as he removes both your bottoms in quick succession.
He can feel just how wet you are as soon as your bare cunt meets his length, your essence already leaking all over him without him having to do any work. It brings a smile to his face as you kiss, the feeling of pride turning his chest red with blush because of his effect on you.
“Missed you so fucking much, babygirl.”
The words have barely left Jungkook’s lips when he grabs your hips to position you over his cock. His fingers wrap around his shaft so you have a perfect target to sink onto, and the familiar feeling of him stretching you open as you sit on his thighs makes your head lull while you breathlessly moan.
“Oh fuck, baby,” you mewl. “I missed you so bad.”
Jungkook is pulling your face to his so he can kiss you before you even start bouncing on him, his other hand grabbing your ass and squeezing your flesh possessively. The kiss is quick, because soon after he’s turning your head and licking across the hot skin of your neck. His warm breath tickles your ear as he goes to speak.
“This cock is all yours, Bams. So, be good and ride it for me, yeah?”
You’d do anything he asks, and his words light up the competitive streak in you to give him the best fuck of his life.
The temptress within you gets the better of you, and you decide to fully unsheath him from the walls of your pussy while grabbing his cock with your hand to keep him in place. He groans indignantly when your warmth leaves him, and you wait a few torturous moments before slowly letting him enter you again one inch at a time.
Jungkook spanks you in retaliation, but you just chuckle and scratch at his pecs with your nails.
Continuing the slow glide, you watch as Jungkook’s cock leaves your cunt covered in your juices until it disappears from view when your walls suck him in again. The erotic visual makes your body burn with wanton need. His thick cock repeatedly spearing you is truly a sight to behold and it feels even better than it looks.
“Fuck, Bambi, don’t fucking do this to me.”
“Do what?”
The faux innocent gaze your eyes possess makes Jungkook’s jaw clench.
“I will demolish this fucking pussy. Don’t mess with me, baby,” he threatens.
“I’d like to see you tr –”
Jungkook cuts your air supply off completely with a single deadly thrust upwards, your sentence ending with a screech instead of the syllable it was supposed to.
You aren’t able to replenish your oxygen because Jungkook’s hand is suddenly around your throat, pressing down on the sides to choke you without actually hurting you. His other hand bruisingly holds your hip so he can keep you exactly where he wants you. Your inner thighs meet his pelvis when he plants his feet against the mattress, giving him all the leverage he needs to fuck you dumb.
“There we go, much better,” he grunts as he abuses your hole.
“Koo, oh my God.”
You’re grasping for purchase on his chest to keep yourself upright, eventually gripping his shoulders to prevent falling right over. The combination of his hand around your throat and his cock hitting just the right spot inside you has your mind going numb and your mouth dropping open.
Jungkook’s completely focused on his singular goal of fucking you right, his brow creasing as his eyes sharpen with determination. He looks no less than ethereal below you, the sweat on his skin making him shimmer like the Greek god you’re positive he descends from.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking handsome, Jungkook. It’s unreal.”
He blushes at your compliment even as his hips work endlessly to force his dick deep into your pussy.
“That means a lot coming from someone as beautiful as you,” he says with honey coating his tone.
Unlike him, you’re unable to blush or even react, the speed and force of his strokes is plummeting your body into an ocean of euphoria and all you can do is drown. The sex is borderline demonic, and yet it feels like heaven coursing through your veins.
It’s a genuine mystery of the universe how someone as kind and gentle as Jungkook can be such a goddamn animal in bed.
If it wasn’t for your pregnant belly, you’re certain Jungkook’s cock would be making an appearance in your abdomen. His lower body is working overtime to send his thick length as far as possible into you and the sensation turns your mind to goo. You would love nothing more than to focus on the feeling of his muscles beneath your fingers, or the way his thighs smash into yours with every thrust, but you’re in a subspace of pleasure.
“Fuck, Bams, you look so sexy,” he tells you, his voice dripping with desire. “Pussy filled with me, belly swollen with my child, your perfect tits full of milk. You’re fucking gorgeous, babygirl.”
As if to prove his point, he sits up to tug one of your nipples between his teeth. You gasp at the abrasion against your already sensitive skin, but the sound melts into a moan when he takes it into his mouth and sucks on the pebbled skin.
He plays with your nipple until it’s sore, flicking it with his tongue and then slowly circling it until you’re whining and gripping his hair like a lifeline. Wet kisses are placed all over your breast, slathering you in drool and red blotches where he chose to suck on your flesh. You think the debilitating treatment is over until he switches sides, making you cry with pleasure.
There’s a pop when he releases your nub from his mouth to kiss along your sternum instead.
“You feel fucking amazing, baby. So big, make me feel so full,” you moan.
Jungkook hums proudly as his tongue leaves his mouth to the lick your collarbone.
“I don’t know how I’ll survive six weeks without fucking this perfect, little cunt.”
His hand tightens around your throat again and you whimper, rolling your hips downward along with his movements to create friction on your clit.
“At least you’ll be able to jack off,” you retort.
“Mm, that can’t even hold a candle to you, baby,” he kisses across your shoulder, inch by inch until he reaches your neck. “I would know, it’s all I fucking did the last five days.”
Jungkook’s hand leaves your throat with a final squeeze to join his other one at your hips, bringing you down against him with more ferocity as the sound of skin slapping together fills the room.
“I’ve got you addicted, don’t I?”
“Fuck, you have no idea, Bambi.”
You continue fucking yourself on him to the best of your ability even with his brutal pace, feeling infinitely needier as your orgasm steadily approaches.
Jungkook is reeking havoc on your neck, coating you in his saliva as he licks across your sweat soaked skin and kisses your most sensitive spots. He nibbles on your earlobe and it makes you keen and whimper unabashedly.
Honestly, you don’t know how you’ll survive the six weeks either. The two of you have done nothing but fuck since a few weeks after you moved in, and the forced celibacy may very well send you spiraling into insanity. You’re addicted to him, too, and you already know you’ll be begging for his dick for the remainder of your days.
Craving more of you, Jungkook holds you firm against his chest and slams back into the mattress, readjusting his feet and the angle of his hips so he can terrorize your g-spot with the tip of his cock.
“Oh, holy shit.”
You bite down on his shoulder as tears prick your eyes.
He growls amorously in his throat, his hips taking on a mind of their own as they work effortlessly to send you both crashing into an orgasm.
Part of you feels bad for requesting to be on top only to allow him to take control, but the guilt washes away like sand when you feel your climax pressing against your insides like a tsunami just offshore.
“Come on my cock, baby, wanna feel how tight you squeeze me,” Jungkook orders.
You can’t answer him, the only noises escaping your body being nonsensical moans and cries of his name. But your body certainly responds, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice before your legs lock and twitch when your release comes.
The pulsing of your cunt triggers Jungkook’s release, and your cries of pleasure harmonize as you come together.
“Shit, Koo,” you curse as he continues sending his cock into you, creating an ache of oversensitivity between your legs. “Baby.”
You stall his movements with a hand to his chest as your pussy convulses around him with the aftershocks of your orgasm. There’s a soreness in your thighs when you lift yourself from his lap and fall beside him on the bed.
Jungkook’s softening cock is covered in white from both of your juices, and if you weren’t entirely spent and borderline delirious, you’d lick it clean for him.
He caresses your face as your eyes close, moving your hair out the way so he can kiss your cheek, nose, temple, and forehead. You hum happily, pursing your lips as a wordless demand for him to kiss them as well.
“I love you, Jeon Jungkook,” you whisper into the air.
The sound of his bright laugh makes you smile.
“I love you more,” he responds before finally giving you a tender kiss.
“Oh, please don’t make me fight you right now. I’m in no shape to do so,” you state.
Jungkook giggles and pecks your lips a couple more times in rapid succession.
Once your heavy breathing slows and your bodies cool, you roll into Jungkook’s side and he naturally pulls you into his embrace.
It’s nearing sunrise and if you’re this exhausted, you can’t even begin to comprehend how tired Jungkook must be.
He wishes you goodnight where his lips rest on your forehead and you return the gesture by smooching his chest a couple times. The two of you sleep peacefully for the first time in days, the feeling of home completely encompassing you as you’re whisked away to dreamland.
NINE
Despite the many warnings about the possibility of sex inducing labor, you’re three days from your due date and Jungkook fucking you sensless multiple times a day has yet to make your baby arrive any sooner.
The two of you are in the honeymoon phase straight out of finally confessing your love for each other, and you having a massive baby bump and a few extra pounds on you doesn’t stop you in the slightest from celebrating your new relationship status. Jungkook can’t keep his hands to himself even when you’re in the middle of important tasks readying the house for your little pumpkin
Honestly, you think it’s partially to distract himself from the imminent arrival of your child. He never says it aloud because he doesn’t want to worry you, but you know him better than anyone and can tell he’s anxious.
It’s one thing to spend nine months positively itching to hold your baby in your arms, but it’s another to actually parent said child.
Even with his nerves, he’s been the picture perfect partner throughout these final weeks and you’re nothing short of absolutely certain he’ll be the most amazing father in the world. Even if he fails at things or messes up every now and then, the immense love he already holds for your baby is more than you could ever ask for from a partner.
Right now he’s screwing the final dresser into the wall of his bedroom so it’s baby-proof. He’s never been much of a handyman, but you suppose the fatherhood gene has fully fermented in his blood and now he can handle a drill like a pro. You’ll have to ask him about changing tires next, and his sneezes will probably get louder as soon as the baby is born.
You’re moseying around the kitchen as you clean up following dinner. Jungkook keeps telling you to stay still and relax, but you’re way too antsy to do that.
Every minute feels like an hour while you wait for your little one to arrive. Not only because you’re so eager to meet them, but because you’re terrified of labor and delivery and want it over with as soon as possible. It’s a fear of the unknown, and you know you’ll feel better once you understand how bad the contractions will be.
Being pregnant comes with many lovely perks, one of which includes peeing every time you cough or even flinch the wrong way.
That’s why, when you feel a warm sensation down below, you don’t question it. Like always these past couple months, you merely roll your eyes and make a mental note to change your underwear when you’re done cleaning.
It’s only once you step to your left and have to catch yourself on the counter to stop from slipping that you realize you’re standing in a pool of liquid. You certainly didn’t pee your pants, because although it’s been a couple decades since you last did, you remember the feeling quite well. When the realization of what actually occurred hits you, you’re screaming bloody murder for Jungkook upstairs.
“My water! Jungkook! My water just broke!”
The sound of his two feet followed by four large paws running down the stairs is all you hear until he appears at the bottom of the stairwell looking like he’s seen a ghost.
His cheeks are bright red, his eyes bigger than you’ve ever seen them, and he’s huffing out air as though he just ran a marathon.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, Koo, I’m standing in amniotic fluid as we speak!”
Jungkook shakes his head aggressively to get himself into action mode.
“Alright, you get your shoes on, I’m gonna get the hospital bag. Wait, do you need to change first?”
“That would be nice, yeah,” you admit.
He’s gone in a flash to head back upstairs and obtain your pre-packed bag with all the essentials and something for you to change into.
When he returns only a split second later, Usagi is following close behind now that she’s aware something exciting is going on. He hands you a comfortable dress and panties to change into and you strip right there in the kitchen. His hand on your hip stalls you before you’re able to slip the clothes on, and you nearly start screaming at him that now is not the time, but then he grabs a towel and wipes away the fluid from your legs.
You smile graciously and thank him for thinking ahead before sliding the dress over your head and scurrying to the door.
Now that your water broke you can feel a mild cramping from the contractions. It’s a dull pitch in your back as well as what you can only compare to a period cramp. You must not be dilated very much yet because the pain is still fairly tolerable.
Jungkook bends over to help you with your shoes before resting his hand on your lower back to guide you downstairs to the garage. Both your hands are caressing your swollen stomach, slightly bracing yourself because the cramping is coming in waves every few minutes.
When you reach the car Jungkook opens the passenger door for you, but you turn on your heel and place your hands on his chest before sitting down. He looks at you inquisitively, his eyes conveying his hurriedness and confusion as to why you’re not rushing, too.
“I just, we have time, and I want to take a minute before we go,” you tell him.
“For what, Bambi?”
You admire the pretty features you’ve known all your life with a smile and reach up to circle his neck with your arms. He laughs cheerfully and reflects your embrace by hugging your waist.
“This is the last time we’re gonna be here, just the two of us.” You nuzzle your face in his neck and let his scent calm you. “The last time it will just be you and me.”
“It’s always gonna be you and me, Bams,” he replies. “Always.”
He kisses your cheek, leaving his lips there for a lingering moment before you part. Once you do, he rests his hand on your jaw and kisses you gently. His lips are warm and familiar, and you kiss one another with a promise of wonderful new things on the horizon.
Jungkook waits to ensure you’re comfortable in the passenger seat before running to the other side and taking off towards the nearby hospital. On the way, you call your doctor to let them and she assures you she’ll meet you there once the labor and delivery nurses triage you.
When you arrive, you take a poignant deep breath, knowing that when you exit this place you’ll be a mom, and this is the last time in the outside world where you’ll just be you. It’s exhilarating, nerve wracking, and overwhelming all at once, but you’ve been preparing for this next chapter for nine months now, and you’re more than ready.
You and Jungkook have your hands tightly wound together as you enter the massive hospital, but he relinquishes his grip to grab you a wheelchair once you’re inside. He watches you carefully as you sit down, holding his hands out on either side of you as though you’re made of glass. When you nod at him assuredly that you’re all good, he rushes to the counter to inform the receptionist while you text all your important group chats about what’s going on.
Your parents and friends are planning on coming to see you and the baby after delivery, and you can’t wait to formally introduce them to your little one.
Jungkook returns along with a labor and delivery nurse who introduces herself before wheeling you down the hallway. When you reach two large double doors, she stops and turns to you and Jungkook, whose hand is comfortingly rubbing your shoulder.
“Alright, this is where we’ll be parting for a bit. Mom, you’re coming with me, and Dad, you have to get scrubbed up so you can join us,” she explains.
This step in the process is something your doctor explained previously, but it doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier, no matter how momentary the separation will be.
Looking towards Jungkook, you notice he’s just as anxious to be away from you, but he hides it well and bends to your height so he can kiss you briefly.
“I’ll see you soon, okay, Bambi?”
There are tears in your eyes even though you’re nodding your head.
“Yeah, soon,” you whimper.
“It’s okay, baby, it won’t be for long,” he tells you as he caresses your cheek. You lean your head into his hand and close your eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you,” you parrot and kiss him one final time.
He waves continuously as you’re pushed through the double doors by your nurse, and even though you know he’s upset, too, he’s sporting the cheesiest grin on his face to make you laugh.
Jungkook heaves out a sigh directly from his gut once you’re gone, his head falling back as he struggles to steady his jackrabbiting heart. Being apart right now feels like unadulterated torture, but he knows it’s only for a short while before you’ll be together again.
A different nurse comes to lead him to a sterile room just around the corner. The older woman explains the basics of scrubs and staying clean as well as what to do if he gets contaminated. He listens as dutifully as possible with all the other millions of thoughts running through his head and eventually the nurse helps him dress in the lovely, crinkly blue outfit, which includes shoe covers and a hair net.
He looks utterly ridiculous, but truthfully, finally dawning his father-to-be attire makes him giddy.
When he exits, the nurse leads him down a seemingly infinite hallway to a delivery room where your doctor is waiting just outside the door. She smiles joyously when he appears in her vision and enthusiastically waves him down.
“Hi, Doc,” he excitedly greets her.
“Hi, how are you feeling?” She asks him.
“I’m… nervous as hell,” he says truthfully. “I can’t stand seeing her in pain, so I don’t think I’m going to handle this very well.”
“A lot of dads feel that way about their partner,” she explains. “Just remember, all you can do is be there for her and she’ll get through it. She’s a tough cookie.”
“She is,” he nods with a smile.
“So, I wanted to talk to you before we go in. Y/N’s lost quite a lot of blood, and we’ve had to set her up with a continuous blood transfusion to ensure she’ll have enough for delivery. Now, let me just say, this is totally normal. We deal with this all the time and we’ve got everything under control.”
Jungkook’s heart drops into his stomach with a weighted plop, his entire body following suit as his shoulders sink and he nearly loses his balance.
“What — what — what do you mean, why is she losing blood?”
“It’s just something that happens sometimes, the baby is moving through her body and it can cause internal bleeding which drops her blood count,” she explains calmly.
“But… but she’s gonna be okay, right? I mean, Doc, that’s my entire world in there. I’m… I’m not even a person without her, I —”
“Jungkook, listen to me,” she interrupts his manic ramblings. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive. She’s going to be just fine. Her and the baby. You’re going to leave here with both of them tomorrow, alright?”
Jungkook attempts to calm his thoughts and take her words of expertise to heart, but he needs to see you for himself, hold you and feel your skin beneath his fingers so he knows without a shadow of a doubt that you’re alright.
“Okay. And you’ll… she takes priority, right? If something goes wrong —”
“Of course, she does.” She smiles reassuringly at him. “I won’t let anything happen to your Bambi, Jungkook.”
He nods his head as a sigh of relief leaves his lungs.
“Thank you, Doctor,” he says wholeheartedly.
“Of course. Let’s get you in there to see her, yeah? Fair warning, she’s a little loopy because of the blood loss, but it shouldn’t last too much longer now that she’s hooked up to a blood bag.”
She opens the door and gestures for Jungkook to enter before following closely behind.
When you see the light pouring in from the door opening, your eyes glisten with excitement as Jungkook appears in your field of vision. Even though you feel half alive, the sight of the man you love brings a huge toothy grin to your face.
“Koo,” you call for him quietly, your hand weakly rising in his direction. He’s at your side instantly, taking your shaking hand and kissing the back of it before sitting in the chair beside your hospital bed. “You look so cute in your scrubs.”
“Yeah? Well, you look absolutely beautiful, baby,” he tells you as he delicately pushes your sweaty hair from your face.
The contractions are coming in quick succession now and are significantly more powerful, but because of the blood loss you’ve only been given a mild pain reliever. It’s truthfully been horrible so far, especially when you nearly passed out from all the blood escaping your body. You don’t dare tell Jungkook about it, knowing precisely how he’ll react, but you already feel better with him next to you.
Pursing your lips in his general direction, you hear Jungkook chuckle as he leans in to kiss you deeply. Despite your current state, you still do your best to reciprocate the passion he pours into you, moving your lips in tandem while his free hand rises to cradle your jaw. Your foreheads meet once your lips reluctantly divide, but Jungkook uses his grip to lower your head so he can press his lips there a couple times instead.
“So, I take it you two aren’t just best friends anymore?” Your doctor is sitting between your legs with an eyebrow raised. You and Jungkook share a knowing chuckle before facing her and shaking your heads in unison. She smiles broadly in response. “Good, I’m glad.”
Just then, another contraction crashes over you and you groan while bending over in pain. Jungkook’s eyes go wide and misty in an instant, his hand clutching yours in support, which you return tenfold by brutally squishing his fingers together from the tightness of your grip.
You feel his other hand combing through your hair as you attempt to push through the pain by counting your breaths. The pain coursing through your lower half is already borderline unbearable, and you pray they can give you the epidural soon.
“Breathe, baby,” Jungkook instructs, mimicking the Lamaze technique you learned all those months ago.
The class was enjoyable enough, but the breathing exercises truly don’t do jack shit for the pain. Jungkook’s voice brings you more comfort than the repetitive intakes of air you were taught. As the pain begins to cease, you crash back into the bed with shaky breaths while Jungkook massages the shoulder closest to him.
“Are you alright, Bams?” He asks, his eyes watching the monitor beside you so he can see your heart rate returning to baseline.
“Yeah, I am now,” you pant.
“Is there anything I can do?”
You caress his cheek with your free hand while putting on your bravest smile for him.
“No, my love, you just have to sit there and look pretty,” you instruct him.
Jungkook blushes as he laughs.
You request he answer some of the hundreds of text messages currently blowing up your phone and causing it to nearly vibrate off the table. He does so without hesitation, sending mass text messages to your friends and family stating where to go when they arrive and updating them on how you're doing. There’s also a fair amount of selfies taken in between contractions, some for your loved ones and a couple of you two kissing for his own records. He wants to remember this forever, even if you both look questionable at best in your hospital attire.
Everyone in your life knows about the relationship status upgrade, but he still wants to keep some moments sacred for just the two of you.
When you told your moms, you genuinely thought they were going to pass out from sheer excitement. The two women cried hysterical happy tears and hugged one another for a minimum of five minutes before finally embracing the two of you in congratulations.
The contractions continue for a couple hours, each wave of them getting closer and closer together until they’re almost neck and neck. After a particularly horrific one lasting about ten minutes, your doctor comes to speak to you.
“So, here’s the situation,” she starts. “You’re dilated to ten right now; the baby is ready to come out. The only problem is you still haven’t received enough blood for us to give you the epidural.” She sighs regretfully. “That gives us two options. You either do the birth naturally now or we give you a medicine that slows your labor down and we wait until we can give you the epidural. The biggest downside to that is the medicine can take upwards of ten hours to leave your system, so you’ll be feeling the contractions for that long.”
You were never planning on delivering naturally, and having to choose between the better of two evils is making your brain short circuit. All you want is to meet your baby, to hold, kiss, and love them, but there’s a barrier of brutality standing in your way.
“Do you think I can do it naturally?” You ask her.
“Absolutely. I’ve seen thousands of women do it, but that doesn’t mean you have to. Everyone is different.”
Anxiously gnawing on your lip, you turn towards Jungkook, whose expression mirrors the fright on your own. His eyes are glossy with unsung emotion and it breaks your heart. You know how difficult it is for him to feel so powerless to help you, always proudly holding the title of your knight in shining armor all your life.
“What do you think?”
“It’s not up to me, Bams,” he answers.
“I know, but I want your opinion.”
His jaw clenches and he shakes his head before speaking.
“I fucking hate seeing you in pain, Bambi. I can hardly stand it, you know that,” he responds. “But for either option it sounds like that’ll be the case. You either experience excruciating pain now or suffer for ten hours with severe pain.”
You mull over his words for a while before releasing the air in your lungs as your decision finalizes in your mind.
“I wanna meet our baby, Koo,” you tell him. “I don’t want to wait.”
Jungkook smiles assuredly at you and brings your fingers to his lips to kiss.
“I know you can do this, Bambi. There’s nothing in this world I believe in more.”
“So, we’re gonna try naturally?” Your doctor asks to clarify and you answer her with a nervous nod of your head. “Great, we’ll start pushing in about ten minutes, alright? Remember that you’re going to push along with each contraction, so don’t push until I tell you.”
She walks across the room to discuss the plan with the other nurses assisting her with your delivery. Jungkook grabs your attention by brushing his knuckles down the side of your face and you paint an expression of false bravery on your face for him.
“Are you okay? You gonna be alright?”
“Yeah, Koo, I’m okay,” you assure him. “Just don’t be upset if I sink my nails into your skin and make you bleed.”
“You can do whatever you need to get through it,” he responds.
He brushes your hair away again, even more of your strands matted down after the hours of labor you’ve gone through already.
“This is it, huh? No turning back,” you say.
“Nope,” Jungkook giggles. “I can’t wait, Bams.”
“Me, either,” you reply happily.
Jungkook kisses you again, cherishing the feeling of your lips as he mentally maps the shape of your mouth and memorizes this moment. You allow the lip lock to be your final moment of rest before diving headfirst into the ordeal you fear the most. The next time your lips meet, it will be once you’ve become a family.
“I know I’ve said it before, but you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you so damn much,” Jungkook states.
“I thought you said that blowjob I gave you was the best thing to ever happen to you?”
Jungkook laughs indiscriminately, his eyes squeezing shut as his bunny teeth peak out.
“I was wrong,” he says. “It’s you, Bambi. It’s always been you.”
You smile at him in total adoration while tracing his features with your eyes, wanting to remember years from now exactly how he looked before he became a dad.
“I love you, Jungkook, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to properly explain just how much.”
Instead of verbally replying, there are kisses spread all over your face as you giggle until your doctor returns and asks if you’re ready. When you tell her you are, she reassures you of your strength before sitting on the stool between your legs while the other nurses stand in various positions around her.
Jungkook squeezes your hand with an unknown melody and you share an affirmative glance from your periphery. You’ve been through everything under the sun together, and this is just another hurdle you know you’ll get through side by side. There’s no doubt in your mind you can do this because he’s here beside you and no one provides you with more strength and support than him.
Three consecutive, merciless contractions crash over you and you nearly turn Jungkook’s hand purple with your grasp. Your doctor informs you in a calm voice that when the third wave of pain begins to ebb you’ll start pushing. One contraction bleeds into the next, and you hear a backwards count of three before she orders you to push hard.
The pain is abundantly worse than you ever imagined. It feels like the entire lower half of your body is on fire while your insides tear themselves to shreds. You scream as hot, salty tears blur your vision and your nails bite into Jungkook’s hand. He holds your elbow with his free hand in an attempt to give you more support to steady yourself with.
The word “push” is repeated over and over as the contraction moves through you. You do as you're told for a few minutes, although it feels like hours, and then she states you’re going to pause for a moment.
“Okay, you can stop, dear,” she instructs.
As soon as your efforts cease, you gasp in hefty relief and fall backwards into the bed, all the while panting and trying to calm the inner workings of your body after pushing your nervous system to the brink.
“Bambi? Are you doing alright?” Jungkook asks as he brushes his fingers through your hair.
“Fuck you, Jungkook. You’re never coming in me again,” you huff through shaky breaths.
He chuckles and kisses your crown a couple times, making you smile despite the exhaustion and ache.
When your doctor asks if you’re ready to continue you reply with a weak nod of your head and return to your prior position. The same sequence of events repeats for a while, but you honestly have no idea for how long because one excruciating moment just blurs into the next. There’s a particularly awful set of pushes and afterwards your doctor happily informs you the baby’s crowning and it shouldn’t take much longer.
You brace yourself for what you know will be the worst pain yet, readjusting your hold on Jungkook’s hand as he whispers words of encouragement in your ear and kisses your sweaty cheek.
Truthfully, all you want is to pause and climb into his lap so he can soothe the pain away as he always does, but your baby needs you, and there’s nothing you want more in the world than to hold them in your arms.
A moment later your doctor tells you to push as hard as you’re able and the loudest scream yet rips from your throat. You genuinely believe for a moment that you're being ripped in half and won’t make it out alive. The thought scares you half to death, but you force it away so you can focus on giving your child life.
“Ah! Fuck!” You wail as tears freefall from your eyes.
“One more, honey, you’re almost there,” your doctor assures you.
“You can do it, Bams,” Jungkook shouts as his arm shakes from how firmly you’re clutching his hand.
“Ahh no, no I can’t, I can’t do it,” you cry helplessly, the pain nearly blacking out your vision.
“Yes, you can, baby. I know that you can,” Jungkook replies.
You weep hysterically while trying to breathe through the pain, but it feels impossible to push air from your lungs when all you feel is the overwhelming sensation of your insides ripping apart.
“Push, honey!”
Your doctor's words shove reality before you, that you only have one choice and that’s to bring your baby into the world. So, with all the strength you have left after hours of physical pain and torment, you push with all your might.
There’s an ear piercing scream which accompanies your efforts, but then your voice is drowned out by the sound of a shrill cry.
You gasp harshly and slam into the bed when the immense pressure disperses from your bottom half. You’re left panting haphazardly as your body slows its momentum and your mind catches up to the world around you.
The feeling of Jungkook’s fingers lacing through yours grounds you to the moment, but it’s your doctor’s voice which pulls your consciousness to the surface.
“Congratulations, you two, you have a beautiful little girl.”
“A girl?” You and Jungkook shout in unison.
“We’re gonna clean her up and get her right back to you, alright?”
The world is spinning too fast. Everything seems to be happening at once, but you do your best to calm your mind so you can focus on your daughter and the man you love sitting beside you.
“Bambi, you did it,” Jungkook cheers as he leans over and kisses your forehead. “We have a daughter.”
You regain control of your eyes and turn towards the sound of his voice. He honestly looks just as bad as you. There are tear stains all across his face from crying over you being in pain, and fresh droplets are forming in the corners of his eyes at the news about your little girl.
Reaching across to bring his face closer, you kiss him as ardently as you can with your strength almost entirely depleted. You’re both smiling too hard to even kiss properly, your teeth clashing as your tears of joy blend together until you don’t know whose are whose.
You pull away when your doctor returns with your daughter wrapped in a blanket with a little pink hat on her head. She’s so tiny that you gasp in awe, your hands covering your mouth as you wait in eager anticipation for her to be placed in your arms.
Your doctor smiles brightly at you as she hands you the little bundle of joy in her arms.
There are truly no words to describe the feeling of holding her for the first time. It’s unbelievably surreal to think she’s the same little pumpkin growing in your womb all this time. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, with tufts of black hair just like her father’s sticking out from the edges of her hat. She has his button nose, too, but her lips and face shape seem to favor you. Her eyes are delicately shut while she sleeps peacefully in her carefully made cocoon.
“Hi, baby,” you whisper. “It feels weird holding you in my arms rather than my belly, huh?” She obviously doesn’t respond to your adoration, but you’ll speak nonsense to her all day anyway. “Oh, I love you so much already.”
Jungkook places a hand on your shoulder as he leans over to see his daughter up close. The two of you have identical watery grins as your happy tears continue to fall.
“She’s so beautiful,” he whispers.
“Yes, she is.” You gently caress her head and tap her little nose. “We made her, Koo.”
“For funsies.”
Laughing to the point your chest shakes, you nudge him in retaliation for possibly disturbing your little girl's slumber. He joins in your laughter and kisses the exposed skin of your shoulder where your hospital gown fell down. Your heart feels as though it’s swelling to ten times its normal size as you lean down to press the gentlest of kisses to her forehead.
“You wanna hold her?” You ask him.
His eyes are wide with wonder as he nods his head slowly and reaches for her with adorable grabby hands. You pass her over as deftly as possible and admire the scene before you as Jungkook meets his daughter for the first time.
The sound he makes is a mixture between a gasp and a cry when he first comes face to face with her before he starts giggling endlessly, his nose scrunching up in pure bliss as more tears fall from his eyes.
“Hi, my little one,” he coos. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” You sniffle to hold back your own sentimental tears as you watch the two people you love most in the world interact. “Daddy loves you so much, little girl.” He chuckles to himself. “But we’re gonna have to talk, because you hurt Mommy and that just cannot go unpunished.”
You allow a hearty laugh to leave you now that you aren’t holding your daughter.
“I can’t thank you enough, Bams. I’ll never be able to thank you enough, even if I spend every second of the rest of my life doing so. You made me a dad to the most beautiful little girl in the world.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Koo, because you made me a mom. You’ve loved and cared for me my entire life, and if the only way I can repay you is with her, then all this was worth it.”
You kiss him softly, being careful not to jostle your daughter resting in his arms.
After a while of simply admiring your baby as she sleeps, your doctor informs you it’s almost time to go through afterbirth, although it should be easier since your water broke earlier. Once that’s done, they clamp the umbilical cord and allow Jungkook to cut it, which he does while smiling from ear to ear.
It’s about an hour later when they tell Jungkook he can grab two loved ones at a time to come see you. You mutually agreed ahead of time that your mothers will be first, so he kisses you on the lips and your daughter on her forehead before heading to the waiting room to spread the magnificent news.
Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief as he travels down the long hallway away from the delivery room, still so utterly shocked that he’s a dad and he has such a beautiful daughter.
He also can’t believe how amazing you did. He’s positively in awe of you and what you went through to deliver your baby. It honestly pains him to leave you both even if only for a few fleeting moments. He could spend forever just staring at you and your sweet little girl.
When the double doors open, a massive crowd of your friends and family are behind them waiting eagerly for his arrival. They all stand at once when they see Jungkook enter, and every single person shares the same anticipatory expression.
“It’s a girl!” He announces with his arms held high above his head.
The entire room erupts with cheers and the horde of loved ones descends on him in an excited frenzy. He feels multiple friends messing with his hair affectionately, his mom kissing his cheek, and your friends hugging his waist. It makes his heart jump for joy at the realization of how loved you, him, and your baby are already.
“How’s Y/N?” Chaewon asks once everyone gives him some room to breathe.
“She’s fucking perfect. I mean, she was just so amazing. I can’t even comprehend it,” he explains. “She couldn’t get the epidural because she lost too much blood, but she pushed through and she’s doing great.”
“She gave birth naturally?” Nayeon asks in shock.
Jungkook nods and Nayeon clutches her heart in response.
“When can we see her and the baby?” Yoongi asks him.
“So, we can take you back two at a time. We’re gonna start with our parents, moms first, and then you guys can play rock paper scissors to figure out the order of friends,” Jungkook states.
The large group of friends immediately start turning to one another to start the tournament while Jungkook gestures with his head for his and your mom to follow him back.
His mom clings to his arm as they walk and Jungkook throws his other one around your mom’s shoulders, placing a loving kiss on each of their heads. Both women are still crying from the happy news, but he can tell they're practically vibrating with giddiness to see you and the baby.
Jungkook opens the door for them to enter before following closely behind. Before his feet even enter the space he hears the excited gasps from the women as their eyes land on you and their grandchild.
Your mom is at your side like lightning, bending down to kiss your forehead and ask how you’re doing. You assure her you’re doing alright while offering your sleeping daughter to her. She nods like a bobble head and gently lifts the swaddled child from your arms where she was laying.
Jungkook’s mom gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and then leans over your mom’s shoulder to meet her first grandchild. You watch endearingly as their expressions glow with warmth and affection for her while Jungkook joins you by your bedside again. When your eyes meet, you notice he’s staring at you as though you created the entire universe from scratch. The blush on your face is involuntary, and you kiss him for the umpteenth time today to hide the pink hue.
“I love you so much, baby,” Jungkook whispers in between smooches.
You plant one last peck on him.
“I love you more.”
Jungkook clicks his tongue disapprovingly.
“Are we about to have our first fight as parents?”
Eventually, after your fathers meet their granddaughter, your friends begin arriving in pairs to visit you and their niece, ending with Namjoon and Jimin, which is no surprise given their terrible history with lady luck. By the time the initial pass through of all your guests comes to a close, you’re beyond exhausted, so Jungkook takes your daughter while you rest. Your doctor bids you farewell shortly beforehand and tells you the nurses will assist with nursing for the first time once you wake up.
Upon your return to the land of the living, the three of you are admitted to an actual hospital room rather than the delivery room, which allows for more people to come see you at one time. Although, you and Jungkook decide it’s best to hold off on visitors until after you breastfeed your daughter.
The nurses are wonderful with helping you accomplish the daunting task, and it’s honestly easier than you expected. Your little girl latches onto you with ease and although it feels funny at first, the longer she drinks from you the more soothing it becomes. Relaxing against the pillows, you shut your eyes and appreciate the newness of motherhood while feeding your daughter. Jungkook interrupts your peaceful haven with a wistful sigh as his head falls into one of his palms.
“I’m so jealous,” he states with his eyes locked on your chest.
The slap upside the head you give him is purely on instinct.
Your loved ones all visit again over the next twenty four hours prior to your discharge from the hospital. Before departing, the nurses ask you about a name since the process is simpler to complete while you’re still here. You and Jungkook wear matching smirks while eyeing one another. Contrary to popular belief, the two of you really did know which name to choose the moment you saw her.
You, Jungkook, and Naru return home as a family for the first time, along with your parents, later that day. Bam and Usagi are downright ecstatic to see you and Jungkook’s dad has to hold Bam back from jumping on you or Jungkook, who’s holding Naru in her baby carrier.
It’s a flurry of movement as your moms support your back during your trek upstairs to sleep the pain away while Jungkook places Naru in her crib. Your dads immediately begin cleaning to take some chores off your plate, the two of them working in tandem to wash away the sticky bodily fluid still on the kitchen floor. Once you’re out cold and Jungkook is admiring his daughter with his head resting on the edge of her crib, your parents complete some other miscellaneous tasks around the house and feed the pets before heading home.
After they leave, Jungkook sits in the nursery rocking chair and watches with stars in his eyes as his little girl sleeps soundly in her stolen cradle.
It’s not totally certain why you chose Naru as her name. A couple months ago, Jungkook was rattling names off a list along with their meanings, and for some unknown reason it just stuck out. You and Jungkook both loved it amongst some other girl and boy names, and shortly after she was born, you unanimously agreed to go with that one. There’s an added cuteness bonus because Naru is the name of Usagi’s best friend in Sailor Moon, and in your little familiar they’re sisters.
The name means to become, grow, reach, or attain, and you think the meaning suits her and the two of you so perfectly.
When you wake after some solid sleep, it’s with a sore groan as you literally roll off the mattress to check on your family. It’s still so surreal referring to yourselves that way, but a completely lovesick smile graces your lips every time you do.
You stop in your tracks before anyone can see you once you reach the first floor, wanting to leave the beautiful scene you’re witnessing undisturbed for a while longer.
Jungkook is horizontal across the couch with his shirt open as Naru sleeps on his bare chest. He’s been absolutely dying to try skin on skin time with her after reading how beneficial it can be, and although it may be good for Naru, the sight is terrible for you because it nearly sends you into hysterics over how precious it is. Not only that, but Usagi is curled up between his legs and Bam is watching curiously from the chair next to them. If you could pause time to admire this moment for longer than the world allows, you’d do so in a heartbeat.
A few quiet minutes pass as you watch Jungkook’s gaze flit across all the tiny features of his daughter’s face with the sweetest smile on his lips. He looks utterly in love, his eyes nearly forming into hearts as he stares at her. It makes you wonder if this is what everyone means when they mention how he looks at you.
When you finally make yourself known and pad over to the couch in your slippers, Jungkook’s face somehow lights up even more, his smile growing exponentially as you sit beside his legs.
“Hi, beautiful,” he says softly. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing alright, just sore,” you tell him.
“Anything I can do?”
“No.” You shake your head with an enchanted smile as you brush some of his hair back and caress his cheekbone. “You’re doing everything already.”
He smiles gratefully and twists his head to kiss your wrist. The three of you remain there for a while, you and Jungkook only speaking every so often as your daughter naps peacefully and he brushes her tiny strands of hair away from her face.
BACK TO ZERO
The low, dulcet sound of Jungkook singing in his lower register forces your eyes open. Blinking a couple times to bring your mind to reality, you turn your head to see Jungkook beside you in bed, softly singing to Naru as her cries subside and she falls into a deep slumber.
You reach for them, running your hand along Jungkook’s bicep so he knows you’re awake. He looks at you with a saccharine smile and whispers good morning as to not disturb the child sleeping in his arms. Bending down, you place a gentle kiss on her forehead before sitting up to kiss Jungkook where he’s resting against the headboard.
“You should’ve woken me up, Koo,” you whisper.
“It’s okay, Bambi. I got it,” he replies with an affirmative smile.
Jungkook’s been doing more than his fair share of waking up during all hours of the night to care for your daughter, even though you originally agreed to take turns. He claims it’s because you’re still recovering from pushing her out of your body while he sat and watched, and it only makes sense for you to rest while he does the heavy lifting. You appreciate him more than words can express, but guilt still eats away at you everytime you see dark bags under his eyes from the fatigue.
Sometimes he doesn’t have a choice but to wake you, because as much as your daughter is undeniably smitten by him, sometimes a girl just needs her mother.
If waking you is necessary, Jungkook will do so in the softest way possible, usually by pressing featherlight kisses all over your face and quietly telling you Naru needs you. Even when it’s your expertise required, he’ll follow you into the nursery while you either feed her or give her some much needed mommy and me time. Once her cries subside and she falls asleep, Jungkook will take you by the hand and tuck you into bed with a promise of a few more hours of rest.
When she isn’t being finicky, she’ll fall asleep in seconds to the feeling of Jungkook rocking her or singing her lullabies. You genuinely believe she recognizes his voice from when he sang to her in your womb because her eyes always light up in wonder whenever he starts a new tune.
She’s only been in your lives for a month, but somehow you love her more than anything else in the world. It’s strange for something to have a complete occupation of your heart without knowing them very long, but Naru makes it easy. Even though she can be quite the terror when she’s incessantly crying and screaming, and her diapers smell like sewage, she’s the absolute sweetest baby. When she’s being held, she always curls into the person’s chest and lays her little hand on them, or she’ll tightly grip their fingers between her tiny ones. She smiles constantly, no matter if you’re simply admiring her or playing peek-a-boo.
Naru definitely looks more like Jungkook, which is exactly what you were hoping for, although she does share some features with you.
The first time she blinked her eyes open and you saw a twin pair of the big, boba eyes you fell in love with, you nearly wept. In fact, they’re so large they nearly take up half her face. You’ve already captured at least a thousand pictures of them side by side, with Jungkook often forcing his eyes open wider so they match hers.
Your phone is positively overflowing with photos from the last thirty days, mostly selfies of you and Jungkook with your beautiful daughter, pictures of just her, or secret candid shots of Jungkook holding or playing with her. His phone is much the same, at least you assume so given that he’s always pretending not to be snapping photos whenever you’re with Naru.
“What time is it?” You ask Jungkook.
“Four in the morning.”
You groan quietly enough to avoid waking the sleeping infant and stand for a bathroom break before returning to your peaceful slumber. Your body is still in shambles from the birthing process, although you’re steadily recovering. Some basic functions are still a struggle and the extreme fatigue is enough to keep you in bed all day. Jungkook’s doing his best to take care of you while also caring for Naru, but both your parents come over often to assist in whatever way they can.
Your friends are visiting for the first time later today because they’ve been begging nonstop to see Naru again. It’s not that you didn’t want them here, but you and Jungkook felt some alone time as a family was necessary to settle into your new routine.
Both friend groups are visiting this afternoon since Mina and Taehyung are officially dating and it’s simpler to invite everyone over at once. You’re honestly elated about seeing your friends, desperately in need of some social interaction that isn’t with a tiny human or your boyfriend.
Referring to Jungkook as your boyfriend is quite the adjustment, especially since the illusive term doesn’t hold nearly enough weight for what he truly is to you. Best friend still feels more fitting even though there’s a platonic connotation, baby daddy lowers him to a status far beneath him, and the word partner doesn’t feel intimate enough for your connection. So, boyfriend it is for now, even though Jungkook continuously makes references to replacing the current ring on your finger with a different one.
You always reprimand him when he makes those comments, telling him it’s way too soon for both your relationship and being parents, and he assures you he agrees, but you know your hopeless romantic best friend better than anyone, and it’s obvious he’s itching to get down on one knee.
The thought does leave you embarrassingly giddy, but even if you did get engaged, you wouldn’t wed for a while given that no one wants to plan a wedding and raise an infant simultaneously. Right now, you’re perfectly content with your current ring and the meaning behind it. Ironically, poor Jungkook keeps muttering to himself about how he’s ever going to top it when he does pick out an actual engagement ring.
Upon returning to bed, Jungkook purses his lips towards you and you placate him with a tender smooch before plopping into bed. Unfortunately, you aren’t comfortable for long because your breasts start to hurt from needing to either feed your daughter or pump milk for later. Since she’s currently sleeping like the little angel she is, you grab your breast pump and mirror Jungkook’s position against the headboard while the machine works its magic.
“You always look like an alien when you do that,” Jungkook jokes.
“Like a sexy alien or an E.T. type?”
“Totally sexy, so fucking sexy,” he replies without missing a beat.
You blush bright pink and avoid his eyes before it gets any worse. Nothing about motherhood makes you feel even remotely sexy or desirable and yet there’s still hunger in Jungkook’s eyes whenever he sees you.
His love for you is genuinely the only thing that’s gotten you through the first month of parenthood and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. He’s always attentive to both you and Naru, never complains when you ask him to do something, and does everything in his power to relieve the weight on your shoulders. If there's a world where he didn’t accidentally knock you up, you don’t wish to live in it.
Eventually, you and Jungkook are able to enter dreamland again after he places Naru in her crib. When he returns to the bedroom, he pulls you into his arms from behind and you melt into his warm embrace. His lips dance along your neck, jaw, and cheek while you hum happily at the familiar sensation. It’s been difficult not having dedicated alone time since Naru was born, so you cherish moments like these when you can relax as just the two of you.
Naru’s lovely cries wake you about four hours later, and you seize the opportunity to attend to her before Jungkook can steal your turn.
When you reach the nursery, Usagi is posted up outside the door as she often is whenever your little girl is crying. Your adorable cat has fallen head over heels for your daughter and it makes you swoon whenever they interact. Bam’s also nearby, his ears perking up when you open the nursery door and he hears Naru crying. Of the two of them he’s taken on the protector role, turning him into quite the guard dog lately. You don’t allow them inside the room, but give them both a quick rub to thank them for being so caring.
Naru is twisting and turning in her crib as she cries, her tiny hands reaching for you as soon as you appear before her eyes.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” you coo as you scoop her up.
Cradling her to your chest, you soothe her by patting her back while she lays her head on your shoulder and cries into your shirt. One thing about newborns is it’s easy to figure out what they need since it can only be one of two things. So, you carry her to the changing table and diligently clean her up before getting her back into her onesie. She stretches her chunky fingers at you to hold her again and you immediately oblige, rocking her in your arms as you move across the room.
The door creaks open as you’re laying her down again, but there’s no need to turn around to know who’s entering the room.
The suspicion is confirmed when two strong arms wrap around your middle and you feel your boyfriend’s lips on your shoulder. As Jungkook continues pressing chaste kisses to your skin, you affectionately boop your daughter’s nose and watch as an adorable yawn takes over her face and her fingers curl into tiny fists.
Jungkook is still kissing along your shoulder and up your neck, but he isn’t trying to initiate anything, his lips are caressing you in a way you know means he’s merely doing it because he loves you and to silently thank you for doing everything you do.
Your hand travels behind your head to play with his hair, tugging on it gently so you can hear his sweet laugh in your ear.
“Wish we could stay like this forever, Bams.”
“Me, too,” you whisper.
Turning around in his hold, you capture his neck with both arms and yank him closer for a real kiss. Jungkook automatically tugs you into him with his fingers clutching your waist, causing your back to arch as he deepens the kiss by coaxing your mouth open.
It’s important to make time for intimacy even if it can’t lead anywhere yet, and truth be told, your inherent need to feel his lips on yours never wanes. You wonder if this so-called honeymoon phase will ever go away or if you just love him so much that this is what forever is going to be like.
Jungkook grabs your jaw with one hand as his tongue slips into your mouth, and if he wasn’t holding you the action would probably send you falling into Naru’s cradle. You kiss him a hundred times a day, at least, and he still manages to make your knees weak every time. The two of you moan in harmony when your tongues meet and you press yourself harder against him in response. His chest is warm and solid and you can feel his steady heartbeat beneath his shirt.
“I love you, babygirl,” he confesses quietly.
He’s kissing you again before you’re able to reciprocate his devotion, but you part for the sake of oxygen a moment later and leave your foreheads touching.
“I love you, too.”
You allow Naru to sleep in peace and exit the nursery holding hands. Jungkook leads you down the hall to his bedroom, which is technically shared now. There are plans to turn what was your bedroom back into Jungkook’s office since you certainly aren’t using it anymore, and you need the space where his desk currently sits for all of your furniture.
Waking up in Jungkook’s arms is hands down the most wonderful feeling in the world, on par with holding Naru while she smiles radiantly at you.
Upon returning to the confines of your bedroom, Jungkook brings you into him again so he can kiss you fervently. His intensity pulls a chuckle from your lungs as you shamelessly make out in the middle of the room.
“How many more weeks again?” He asks breathlessly, referring to when you’ll be cleared for sexual activity.
“I’m not sure, since whoever decided on six weeks clearly never pushed a child out of their vagina,” you respond.
Jungkook giggles while leaning in to kiss you again. He graces you with one last peck before heading to grab some towels so you can prepare for the day ahead.
“Well, whenever you are ready, just know I’ll be really gentle.”
“I don’t even think you believe that, Jungkook.”
His smile is riddled with faux guilt when he returns to your side.
“Yeah, no, that’s a total lie.”
You smack his chest with the towel in retaliation, but you’re already laughing to reveal your true feelings. The two of you head to the bathroom together, making sure to grab the baby monitor so you can hear if Naru wakes up.
Showering together is another sparing moment when you can just be in each other’s presence without any of the noise, so it’s become routine lately. Sometimes it gets interrupted by your daughter and one of you, usually Jungkook, has to run out in a towel to console her. One time, he still had shampoo in his hair and you carefully crafted a little bun on his head so it didn’t drip into his eyes.
Jungkook turns the water on while you brush your teeth. It’s adorably domestic and reminds you just how far you’ve come since you first moved in more than six months ago.
Your boyfriend strips as you're washing the toothpaste from your mouth and it takes everything in you not to drool into the sink. No matter how many times you see him naked, every glance feels like the first and you go dizzy over the sight.
“Bambi, stop ogling me,” he teases.
“Stop looking like that, then.”
“Oh, well excuse me.”
“You’re excused,” you reply, your arms crossing over your chest in victory.
A sly grin appears as Jungkook begins robbing you of your own clothes. He caresses your torso once you’re naked in front of him, massaging your skin with his warm fingers until he reaches your hips and squeezes them with a quiet growl.
You frown involuntarily, your usual confidence noticeably absent in the skin you’re currently wearing. Some of the baby weight is gone, about ten or so pounds, but there are stretch marks and extra skin that didn’t previously exist staring back at you in the mirror.
“What is it, Bams?” He asks with evident concern.
There’s confusion over your negative reaction painting Jungkook’s features as he eyes you inquisitively.
“It’s unfair,” you pout.
“What is, baby?”
Your chin is pitched up by Jungkook’s pointer finger so he can watch your expressions when you respond.
“How sexy you are,” you answer.
“Unfair to whom? I’m yours, aren’t I?”
Blush creeps across your bare chest and neck, but his sweet words still don’t dispel your insecurities.
“Yeah, but I’m all flabby and misshapen while you still look freaking perfect.”
“Bambi, you look beyond perfect. There’s nothing that could make you not the most beautiful woman in the world,” Jungkook states earnestly.
“You’re only saying that because you’re in love with me,” you argue.
“No, no,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head. “I thought that long before I fell in love with you, Bams.” He can sense your disbelief, so he bends his knees until he’s staring directly into your eyes. “Do I need to kiss every inch of you to prove it? Because I fucking will.”
“No,” you mumble. His knuckles brush your cheekbone and you sigh. “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel like myself right now, you know?”
“No need to apologize, baby, just tell me how to help and I will.”
His everlasting love and consideration for you bring a smile to your face and you kiss him briefly before leading him towards the shower.
“You don’t need to do anything more than you already are,” you tell him. “And maybe once I’m fully recovered you can bring me with you to the gym so I can get back to normal faster.”
Jungkook enthusiastically nods at your proposal of working out together. He’s been begging you for a while to join him at the gym, mostly because he wants to do push ups over you and kiss you everytime he goes down.
He holds you steady via a hand on your waist as you enter the shower before joining you under the falling water, keeping your back pressed to his chest while the steam encompasses you both. His lips find your neck as he slowly kisses across your wet skin, except unlike before, there’s fire behind his touch as he ravishes you in sensual affection. The water drenching you both only serves to up the intensity, the feeling of him licking up the droplets while he sucks on your throat sending you into euphoric bliss.
“Koo,” you moan, leaning your head on his shoulder as your eyes shut.
“Just because I can’t fuck you doesn’t mean I won’t make you feel good, babygirl,” he tells you.
Which is precisely what he does as he continues kissing you in all the spots he knows drive you crazy while his hands caress you everywhere within reach. They eventually find purchase on your tits and he tactfully massages them in his big hands.
His touch turns your brain to mush, your mind descending into a pool of pleasure as you relish in the sensation of his hands on you. It takes all your willpower not to say fuck it and let him push his cock into your cunt. If there wasn’t an adorable little girl who’ll be waking up soon, you’d let him manhandle you for hours until the water runs ice cold.
You turn around abruptly upon deciding you want to taste him rather than feel him, and Jungkook catches on instantly, walking you both under the showerhead until your back meets the wall as his lips descend on yours.
The kiss is deliciously sloppy from the combination of tongues chasing each other and water pouring down. Your hands rake into Jungkook’s dripping strands of black hair as you moan unabashedly into his mouth. One of Jungkook’s hands slams on the shower wall beside your head while the other catches your waist to keep your body pressed to his. Everything about it feels absolutely filthy even though you’re in a place meant for cleanliness.
“I didn’t even know it was possible to want someone like this,” Jungkook whispers. “All the goddamn fucking time, baby.”
“Me, either,” you reply through a moan as Jungkook begins kissing down your neck again. “I don’t know how we went so long without it.”
He laughs while shaking his head where it resides in the junction of your neck and shoulder.
“Because we’re idiots.”
There’s only a split second between his response and his lips latching onto your nipple, his hand inching up your spine to fondle the opposite breast. It forces a gasp out of you as you desperately grasp his hair in your hands. He plays with your tits in sync, sucking on your pebbled nub in perfect time with the movement of his fingers. An incoherent curse passes through your lips when his ministrations cause you to lactate into his mouth, and he groans in delight as he laps up the milk coming from your nipple with his tongue. The act is supremely messy because Jungkook is purposely missing some of your breast milk so he can lick it off your skin before the water washes it away.
He alternates between drinking straight from the source and allowing his tongue to collect it, but neither choice is better for your sanity. This isn’t the first time he’s acted upon his insatiable urges, just last week he wrapped his lips around your nipple after you were forced awake at three in the morning to check on Naru. The feeling of him sucking on you while you lactate was strange initially, but after a moment it made your head spin with pleasure as he played with your tits and fed himself from your body.
“Fuck, Koo.”
Your head hits the shower tile while he moans pathetically around your nipple.
“I’ll apologize to our daughter for stealing her food later,” he mumbles into your skin.
You chuckle and Jungkook naturally smiles just from the sound of your happiness. He leaves a final kiss on your breast before returning to your lips with a satisfied hum.
You’ve never had shower sex before and unfortunately, today won’t be the day, but after this it’s certainly going on your list.
Your lips continue clashing while you caress each other for an unknown amount of time, but when you do finally catch your breath, the water has begun cooling down. There’s a major responsibility to someone other than yourselves looming outside the bathroom door, so you stop being sexual deviants and actually wash up for the day.
Jungkook pours some soap on your luffa so he can work it into your skin, not missing a single inch as he glides the sponge along your body. You do the same for him while he gathers shampoo in his hands and starts cleansing your hair.
He’s sporting the most adorable look of concentration while he scrubs the shampoo on your scalp until it turns to suds. Repeating the motions on his own hair, you dig your nails between his strands and make him whine from the soothing sensation on his head. The two of you finish up quickly, turning off the water and handing each other your respective towels to dry off.
After getting dressed, you return to Naru’s nursery to wake her up and feed her. Ironically, you have to bottle feed her because Jungkook used up all the milk collecting in your breasts for her morning meal. She looks positively delighted to see you once she’s awake, a heart stopping giggle coming from her tiny body as you pick her up.
Jungkook says he’ll prepare for your guests to arrive while you care for Naru, which includes dolling her up for her visitors. You don’t normally dress her in actual clothes, usually leaving her in a onesie for simplicity, but you want your friends to see her in some of the clothes they bought her. When she naps, you always swaddle her in the blanket Chaewon made and most of her toys come from your friends.
You trudge downstairs with her resting on your shoulder to find Jungkook cleaning up some lingering dishes in the kitchen. Bam bounds over excitedly to greet you and you use your free hand to throw his bone across the room after petting his head. Usagi follows close behind at your feet, per usual, her big eyes staring up at you and Naru as you walk towards the kitchen.
There’s a blindingly bright smile on Jungkook’s face when you enter the room and he instinctively gestures for your daughter. Gladly passing her over, you watch in endearment as he nuzzles his nose against hers and she makes an adorable cooing sound.
“Hi, pretty girl,” he says in his baby voice. She giggles and reaches for his cheeks at the sound of him praising her. “Yeah? You want your daddy?”
Her giggles grow louder when he blows raspberries on each of her chubby cheeks. She cuddles up against his chest as he holds her close, her eyes shutting serenely at the feeling of her dad’s warmth surrounding her. Jungkook bounces her in his arms which causes her to smile adoringly at him and her little toothless grin makes your heart sing.
You automatically take over for him on the chore front since Naru clearly wants some daddy-daughter time.
When she wakes up after falling asleep in Jungkook’s warm embrace, it’s obvious she’s uncomfortable and needs her diaper changed. You never predicted being able to tell which cries mean what, but you’ve memorized every single noise she makes at this point. Jungkook volunteers for dumpster duty while you finish up downstairs.
When they return, she’s still crying incessantly, only it’s soft whimpers you both know mean she wants her mommy. Jungkook gracefully hands her to you, ensuring she’s secure in your arms before letting go. You bring her to the couch and lay her in your lap, holding her little hands and moving them in circles to soothe her.
“Hi, sweet Naru.” Her cries diminish as soon as she hears your voice. “I love you so much, my darling girl. Yeah, that’s right.”
She makes the cutest baby sound imaginable and squeezes your fingers to the best of her ability. You coo in adoration and bend down to kiss her tummy so she giggles even more. Jungkook clicks his tongue over your shoulder.
“I always think she’s such a daddy’s girl until you get your hands on her,” he comments.
“She is a daddy’s girl, Koo. In fact, she may be more obsessed with you than I am.” You boop her nose and her smile grows while she sticks her tongue out. “Isn’t that right, Naru? Mommy’s gonna have to fight you for him, aren’t I, little girl?”
The noise she makes sounds suspiciously like a yes. Jungkook blushes deep red, his love for his daughter physically manifesting on his cheeks.
“I love her more than anything, but you’ll always be my girl, Bams,” he says with a kiss to your cheek.
An hour later the first of your guests arrives. You purposely told them all different times, in about ten minute increments, so everyone gets devoted time with Naru without fighting over her. Jihyo is first, and she has enough gifts in her hands to fill the entire nursery. She squeals and jumps a couple inches off the ground in delight when you appear before her with Naru. The gift bags fall to the floor with a plop as she extends her arms to take her niece from you.
“Naru, my sweetheart!” She cheers.
You and Jungkook are able to take a much needed parenting reprieve as your friends slowly pile in and pass your daughter around like a hot potato. Once all thirteen of them have arrived, everyone spreads out between the living room and the kitchen.
Naru is currently sound asleep in Yoongi’s arms, the usually expressionless man wearing a face of complete joy as he watches her with his gummy smile even though she’s not awake to return it.
“I still don’t understand how the youngest of us is a dad before anyone else,” Jin says as he chews on his slice of pizza.
“Because he’s a doofus,” Jimin responds.
“Hey! I may be a doofus, but I took part in making the cutest little girl ever,” Jungkook defends himself. “In fact, you could say I’m about fifty percent of the reason she’s so adorable!”
“Kook, you got to creampie the hottest woman we all know and then magically have a child nine months later. I’ll give you five percent tops,” Chaewon argues.
Everyone chuckles at Chaewon’s extremely high level overview of pregnancy.
“She seems really well behaved,” Yunjin comments.
“She is,” you say proudly. “Naru is a little angel.”
“You won’t be saying that in a few months,” Namjoon says. “She’ll be a demon once she starts teething.”
“Oh, remind me not to visit around then,” Hoseok adds.
As if she heard them talking smack about her, Naru wakes up and begins fussing around in Yoongi’s arms. His eyes go wide at the foreign behavior and he immediately locks eyes with Jungkook across the room for assistance. Your boyfriend smiles at his friend’s nervousness and goes to grab your daughter before she starts crying
When she instantaneously settles down at the feeling of Jungkook holding her, all seven girls harmoniously gasp in awe.
“Oh my gosh, she loves you, Jeon!” Eunchae states.
“I would sure hope so,” he replies with a proud grin.
He kisses her head a couple times and she nuzzles against his shoulder, tucking her face into his neck and laying her adorable, chunky, baby hand on his chest.
“Wow, never thought I’d see the day,” Taehyung notes from where he sits with a hand on Mina’s thigh.
“So, who’s next? I think Naru needs a playmate, right?” Nayeon asks the room, her eyebrows rising when she meets Mina’s gaze.
Mina aggressively shakes her head while putting her hands up in surrender.
“Nuh uh, not yet, especially not after hearing about what Y/N went through,” she states.
“How are you doing, Y/N?” Tzuyu changes the subject to ask.
“I’m recovering, some days are worse than others,” you answer. “I honestly thought I was going to die.”
“I still can’t believe you did it without any pain meds,” Chaewon says with a shake of her head.
“You and me both.”
“It was genuinely pure magic,” Jungkook comments, his hand gently patting Naru’s back. “She’s a fucking goddess.”
You send him a charming smile from across the room and he blows a kiss at you in return.
“It was worth it, that’s all I know,” you respond.
“It totally was, look at your little girl! She’s perfect,” Eunchae says.
“We can only hope the rest of us schmucks make children as lovely as Naru someday,” Jimin states while holding his glass up to cheers. “To our niece!”
Everyone raises their own glasses in solidarity, except for Jungkook, who lifts Naru up Lion King-style as she giggles and kicks her little feet in joy.
The night continues with Naru being passed around the room a couple more times. She seems to enjoy her uncle Jin the most, probably because he’s an expert at making funny faces that cause her to cheerfully scream and laugh. Jihyo also garners much of her attention, with Naru making grabby hands at her every so often. Mina jokes it’s because Jihyo has big tits and your daughter is getting her confused with a source of nutrients.
Your friends eventually say their goodbyes until all that remains are the vast amount of gifts they brought. You and Jungkook mutually agree to put them away in the morning and use this precious time for quality family bonding in bed.
The two of you lay on your stomachs with Naru between you on the mattress. You both take turns tickling her and blowing raspberries on her stomach and thighs just to hear the perfect laugh you adore so much. It feels like pure, unadulterated bliss, and with Bam and Usagi both curled up by your feet, you feel utterly complete as a little family of five.
Resting your head on your arm, you gaze at Jungkook as he admires his little girl. The adoration in his sparkling eyes makes you feel eternally grateful to your past self for the decision she made. Here you thought you were sleeping with Jungkook just to try it, and now your heart is reborn in more ways than one. It’s swollen to max capacity with both romantic love for your best friend and unconditional love for your daughter.
Jungkook notices your stare and raises an eyebrow at you. When you don’t respond, he leans over Naru to kiss you and pull you from your reverie.
“You gonna tell me why you’re looking at me like that, Bambi?”
You shake your head.
“I don’t have to because you already know,” you respond.
He smiles beautifully and tucks some of your hair behind your ear.
“Yeah, I do.”
Jungkook kisses you again, smoothly gliding his lips over yours while he pours his love for you into the gesture. Ardently returning his kiss, you caress his cheek with one hand and move your lips in a gentle harmony with his. Your foreheads meet after pulling away and upon looking sideways, you see Naru playfully rolling side to side between you. You share a heartwarming laugh at her mannerisms, both of you so completely taken by your daughter and each other.
“I’m so glad I asked you to try something new that night, Bams. Now we get to do everything together for the rest of our lives, starting with parenting.”
“Mm, same here, Koo.” You lean back and rest your head in your hand. “I wonder what other new stuff we’ll get up to.”
Jungkook hums inquisitively and tongues his cheek as he ponders his answer, but then his eyes light up with a mischievous grin.
Summary: Take worldwide superstar Jeon Jungkook of BTS and pair him with an equally gorgeous, smoking hot, and talented female idol, and you have a golden couple. But amidst the hustle and bustle of an invasive and restrictive K-pop world, navigating through a seemingly match made in heaven is not so simple.
Genre: Romance, Social Media AU
Rating: Mature Content (18+) Minors do not engage!
Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Idol!Reader
Parts:
Meet the Main Characters
Chapter One - Galas and Glances
Chapter Two - Friend or Foe?
Chapter Three - The Sapporo Scandal
Chapter Four - PR and Pérignon
in a brutal zombie apocalypse, you are hardened by trauma, the scars of your past and you clash into jungkook, an ex-military loner who hides his pain behind a stone heart. Forced together to survive, your frequent fights and chemistry spark a dangerous connection. In the middle of battles and raw emotion, will their forbidden love survive in this broken world or will it lead to their ultimate downfall?
pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader
genre — zombie apocalypse au, dystopian world, survival, ex-military officer!jungkook, confident badass!reader, dark romance, forbidden attraction, enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, pining, slowburn, one sided love, emotional unavailability, thriller, action and adventure, crime, smut, angst, fluff
warnings — 18+, several explicit sex scenes, mature themes, dark content, graphic violence, detailed gore scenes (zombie attacks, blood), physical and emotional abuse, PTSD, character death (major and minor), betrayal and deception, grief, abandonment, details of injury and pain, smoking and drinking, mental health themes, each chapter contains their individual warnings (reader discretion is advised due to the intense, dark and potentially triggering content)
taglist — [open]
series m. list | main m. list
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The world was decaying, filled with the smell of rot and moans of the undead.
You sprint through the empty road, heart pounding as three zombies lurch closer and closer, their hands grabbing at the air.
As if they were manifesting hold on you.
Your gun clicks uselessly—out of bullets, a bitter chuckle leaving your lips.
That's it then.
You’ve faced near death experiences enough, part of you doesn’t care if it claims you now, the trauma and your scarred life have long since numbed you to fear.
You were exhausted.
Tired of always running, always surviving.
It never seems to end.
Sometimes you just wish that you just stopped running and let the beasts get to you so you could finally escape this agony, because at the end you realize you have no reason.
No reason to survive.
So you stop running.
Just then a shadow moves, fast enough to knock the breath out of your chest.
jungkook.
His blade comes out, slicing through the zombies with brutality and expert practice, as one by one each of the zombies becomes a gurgling mess of blood on the floor.
One zombie crumple, then another until the last one's head rolls across the pavement.
Blood drips from his knife, some splatter on his face, giving him that menacing look as he turns to you, chest heavy, dark eyes filling with something unreadable.
You don’t flinch under his glare.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
You snap, voice shaky with the thought that you were thinking of giving up and he just came out of nowhere like he knew the fear etched deep in your bones.
“I don’t need you or anyone else playing hero. I was fine, dammit!”
“Fine?” he laughs, no humor in it.
He steps closer, towering over you with his huge muscular frame, overpowering your own confident posture.
His anger palpable.
“You were about to get torn apart by them and you’re fine? stop acting so fucking careless before it gets you killed.”
“Good.” you hissed.
Shoving past him, your shoulder slamming into his.
“Maybe I don’t care. I don’t need you watching over me, jungkook.”
You were about to walk away when his hand shot out, gripping your wrist, not hard enough to hurt but enough to stop you instantly.
His touch burned.
A dangerous jolt that made your pulse flutter despite you trying to ignore it.
“You’re lying.”
He says lowly, voice gravel.
“You’re so busy running from your past you don’t even see what’s in front of you.” he says
His gaze hardening, but there's a flicker of hurt beneath it, gone before you can be sure.
As if it were barely there.
“You think I’m out here risking myself for your stubborn ass because I want to? next time you’re out of bullets, I won’t always be there to stick around.”
You pull your wrist away from his grip, heart racing. The space between you felt overwhelming, too hot.
He’s too close.
His breath warm and it stirs something dangerous in you—something you’ve buried long ago.
You clench your fists, hating the way he makes you react, makes you angry, especially the way his words get under your skin.
That flicker of something you feel everytime in his presence.
As you start walking away, the distance growing between you two, another groan from a zombie can be heard, a reminder of the war you’re both fighting.
To survive
But this moment felt like a different kind of battle.
Your feet stop as you hear jungkook’s final words, heavy with warning.
Something deep.
“You can’t outrun everything, not death, not yourself.. one day you’ll stop fighting what’s actually worth saving.”
Pairing: uni student!Jungkook x uni teacher!female reader
Genre: smut
Word Count: 10.2k
Summary: Jungkook falls for his professor. She makes the rules - and he loves breaking them.
Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, smut, cursing, dom!female reader, sub!Jungkook, age gap (both 18+), sexual tension, power imbalance, fixation, power play, emotional manipulation, obsession, explicit: dom/sub dynamics, slight switch, kissing, m. masturbation, fingering, teasing, oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected sex, edging, pet names (good boy 🙂↕️😌), wall sex,
A/N: as per request, i made a part 2! I KNOW that i should do a part 3, but i’m stuck at a crossroads for this couple (do we want a happy or sad ending??? Idk!!!)
MASTERPOST ♡ LINK TO ASK ♡ MASTERLIST
prev ♡ ???
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I was walking like I’d been hit by a truck.
Not in pain. Not exactly.
Just… ruined.
Mentally. Physically. Spiritually.
My legs had the coordination of cooked noodles. My brain was one long static buzz of she kissed me there and she said good boy and I fucking moaned.
I stepped out of the chem building and didn’t even notice it was raining.
I pulled out my phone with hands that were still slightly shaking.
Jungkook: bro
Jungkook: be awake when i get back
Jungkook: dead serious
Jungkook: i need you
Jimin read receipts lit up instantly.
Jimin: what the fuck did u do
Jimin: who do i have to bury
Jimin: are you bleeding
I ignored him.
Just started walking.
Twenty minutes later, I pushed into our shared dorm room, soaked from head to toe, and dropped my bag like it owed me money.
Jimin was sitting on the floor with a slice of pizza in one hand and a face mask half-smeared on.
“Dude,” he said, “what the ACTUAL-”
“I need water,” I said, cutting him off, heading straight to the mini fridge. “And like, ibuprofen. Maybe a new life.”
He blinked. “Are you okay? You look like you escaped from a cult. Did Professor Y/N touch you again?”
I stopped.
Didn’t turn.
Just whispered it.
“She fucked me.”
Silence.
Long, awful, nuclear silence.
Then-
The loudest slap to my back I’d ever received.
“YOU WHAT?!”
“OW-”
“YOU GOT LAID?!”
“Lower your voice, goddamn-”
“You’re walking like your soul left your body, and that’s because PROFESSOR Y/N RODE YOU?!”
“Jimin!”
“Tell me it wasn’t a fantasy. Tell me she actually climbed you like a lab ladder.”
“She told me not to touch her unless she said,” I whispered, collapsing into my desk chair. “And then she said. And I did. And - bro - I think I died.”
Jimin threw his pizza across the room.
“YOU HAD A DOMINANT PROFESSOR EXPERIENCE AND DIDN’T INVITE ME TO FILM IT?!”
“WHAT?? NO- YOU’RE SO FUCKING BROKEN- ”
“Did she call you a good boy?”
I didn’t answer.
He screamed.
“She DID?! HOLY SHIT. HOLY- YOU LITTLE- YOU MILF-HAVING, RULE-BREAKING- ”
“She’s not a MILF!”
“She teaches at a university! That’s academic MILF territory and YOU CROSSED THE BORDER!”
I covered my face.
“I think I need therapy.”
“No,” Jimin said, sitting on the floor with a blank stare. “You need electrolytes. Protein. Maybe an ice pack.”
He stood up and threw a Gatorade at my head.
It bounced off.
“I think she left a bruise on my hip.”
“I want to FRAME it.”
“She said, don’t think this changes the rules, after.”
“You are,” he grinned, nudging me. “You look like you got spiritually cleansed with thigh pressure and regret.”
I groaned.
“Don’t make me laugh. My abs hurt.”
Jimin leaned back against the couch.
“I’m proud of you.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I am.”
He paused.
“But also, you definitely can’t fall in love with her.”
═══════
She didn’t look at me.
Not once.
Not when I walked into class. Not when I sat down. Not when I raised my hand, even though I didn’t know the answer- I just wanted her to see me.
She didn’t.
It was like I didn’t exist.
I sat there, skin still buzzing from what happened- from her. From the way she kissed me, touched me, whispered things in my ear that no one should ever say to their student.
And now?
Now she was reading out lecture notes like I was a stranger in the room.
I stared at her harder, as if I could force her to meet my eyes. She didn’t. Her hair was pulled back, clean and sharp, and her blouse was fully buttoned like nothing had ever come undone between us.
Jimin leaned over. “You good?”
“No,” I whispered.
He raised an eyebrow, but I didn’t explain.
When she started pairing us for the new assignment, I waited to hear her say my name. She always used it like a knife. Controlled. Deliberate. Beautiful.
Instead-
“Mr. Jeon, you’ll be with… Emily.”
I blinked. “What?”
Her eyes finally flicked toward me, but there was nothing there. No warmth. No recognition.
“Emily,” she repeated. “Section B.”
I looked at Jimin. His face said everything.
What the hell is happening?
The rest of class blurred. I didn’t hear the lecture. Didn’t retain the worksheet. I just kept staring at her waiting for a glance, a slip, something. She gave me nothing.
And when it ended, she picked up her bag and walked out the side door without looking back.
I stood there, frozen.
Jimin nudged me. “Yo. What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you text her?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
I showed him my screen.
Jungkook: Did I do something wrong?
Delivered. No response.
Jimin stared at the phone.
Then stared at me.
“Bro… you got ghosted by your professor.”
I swallowed hard.
“No,” I whispered. “I got used.”
═══════
I waited for her after class.
Not even on purpose. I told myself I was walking slow, just checking my phone, just breathing for a second.
But I was waiting.
And when she finally stepped out of the side hallway, I saw her.
I moved fast. “Professor- ”
She stopped.
That was it. She didn’t smile. Didn’t scowl. Just stopped walking and turned to face me like she’d already decided this conversation wouldn’t go anywhere.
“Mr. Jeon,” she said coolly.
Her voice wasn’t the same as the one that whispered in my ear while I was shaking under her.
“I- ” My throat closed up. “Can we talk?”
She looked around. The hall was nearly empty.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“After… that?” I whispered, stepping closer. “You’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen?”
She blinked slowly. “It’s not pretending. It’s discretion.”
Discretion.
Like it was a mistake. Like it was something to be filed away, never spoken of again.
My stomach twisted.
“You won’t even look at me,” I muttered. “I texted you.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you didn’t respond.”
Her jaw tightened for half a second before she caught it. “Because I’m your professor.”
“That didn’t seem to matter when your hands were all over me.”
Her eyes snapped to mine.
She stepped closer - barely - and lowered her voice.
“You need to stop,” she said sharply. “Right now.”
I felt something in my chest twist and snap.
“I don’t want to.”
“You don’t get to want,” she hissed, low and deadly. “Not in this.”
I stared at her. “Then why’d you let me touch you?”
She didn’t answer.
Her eyes dropped to my mouth. Just for a second. I saw it.
“No,” she said, eyes unreadable. “You didn’t imagine it.”
Something fluttered in my chest.
But then she crushed it.
“Doesn’t mean you get to have it again.”
Then she turned and walked away.
And I stood there, burning alive.
Not from anger.
From wanting her even more.
═══════
I didn’t say anything when I got back to the dorm.
Just dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed face-first onto my bed like my body gave up holding in all the shit I wasn’t saying.
Jimin turned down the volume on his laptop.
“Okay, you’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing.”
“The dead body thing. The ‘I’ve been emotionally assassinated by a woman’ thing.”
I groaned into the pillow.
He tossed a hoodie at my head. “Talk. Now.”
“She won’t even look at me.”
He paused.
“Oh damn.”
“Class was normal. She acted like I was invisible.”
“And you tried to talk to her?”
“I caught her in the hallway.”
“…And?”
“She told me it was over. That it was a moment.”
Jimin winced. “Yikes.”
“I asked her why she let it happen if she didn’t want it. She didn’t answer.”
“She always answers.”
“Exactly.”
Jimin leaned back, brows raised.
“Okay. Honest question. Are you, like… in love with her?”
I sat up.
“I don’t know.”
“Bro.”
“I’m serious. I don’t know what this is. I just-she’s in my head. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about her. I walk past her office just to see if the light’s on.”
“I’m not trying to fall in love. I just- can’t stop.”
He was quiet for a second.
Then he sat beside me on the bed and clapped a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re down bad.”
“I know.”
“She brainwashed you with thigh pressure and dominance.”
“I think I liked it.”
“You loved it.”
I flopped back onto the mattress. “I’m not okay.”
“Nope.”
“I’d do it again.”
Jimin looked at me.
“I mean, yeah, same, but- damn, bro.”
═══════
The bathroom mirror was fogged up.
Water ran hot. Too hot. I didn’t care.
I stepped under the spray like it could burn her out of me.
It didn’t.
It just brought her back.
Her hands on my skin.
Her mouth.
I closed my eyes, and there she was, her blouse sliding off her shoulders, the fabric pooling at her feet like a discarded promise.
My knees nearly buckled just remembering it.
Her bra, black lace stretched tight over her chest, clung to her like a second skin, and I could almost feel the roughness of the fabric under my fingertips, the way it would give way to the softness of her beneath.
My breath hitched as I pictured her nails biting into my skin, sharp and demanding, leaving marks that would linger for days.
She knew how to make me beg, knew exactly what to say to make my knees weak.
“I want to hear you beg,” she’d whisper, her voice sharp and low, like she owned me.
And she did.
She still did.
Even now, standing here, my hand drifting down, my fingers brushing against the hard line of my cock, I could hear her voice in my head, commanding, possessive.
I let out a rough groan, my fingers wrapping around myself, tight, mimicking the way she’d grip me, her hand firm, her touch sure.
The water echoed around me, a steady rhythm that matched the pulse in my veins, the throb of my cock as I stroked slower, then faster, then slower again, teasing myself the way she would.
I imagined her watching me, her dark eyes heavy-lidded, her lips parted as if she were tasting me already.
“That’s it,” she’d murmur, her voice a husky command. “For me. All for me.”
My head fell back, water streaming down my face, mixing with the sweat that had broken out across my skin. I could feel her breath on my neck, her teeth grazing my earlobe as she whispered filth, her hands roaming over me like she was mapping every inch of my body.
I tightened my grip, my thumb brushing the sensitive spot just below the head, and I imagined her mouth there, hot and wet, her tongue swirling, her lips stretching wide to take me in.
“Fuck,” I muttered, the word swallowed by the steam and the rush of water.
I could see her on her knees, her hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes locked on mine as she sucked me deep, her throat working, her hands gripping my hips to hold me still.
My strokes became more urgent, my body tensing as I chased the memory of her, the feel of her, the sound of her moans vibrating against my skin.
I imagined her hands on my chest, pushing me back against the table, her legs wrapping around my waist as she impaled herself on me, her nails digging into my shoulders as she rode me hard and fast.
I imagined her saying it again- “Good boy.”
Whispered. Sharp. Like she owned me.
“Y/N,” I groaned, the name tearing from my throat, raw and desperate.
I could feel her tightening around me, her walls clenching, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she cried out, her head thrown back, her body trembling.
I thrust into her memory, my hand moving faster, my hips snapping forward as if she were still there, still wrapped around me, still whispering filth in my ear.
The orgasm hit me like a wave, crashing over me, leaving me shaking and breathless.
I let out a guttural sound, my fingers tightening around myself as I spilled, the hot release being a poor substitute for the real thing, for her.
The water washed over me, mixing with the sweat and the tension, carrying it all away, but the memory of her lingered, clinging to my skin like a second layer.
I leaned into the water like it could wash the shame off.
But it didn’t.
Because it wasn’t shame.
It was need.
═══════
I wasn’t going to go. I told myself I shouldn’t. That after what she said, after the hallway, the silence, the way she shut me down without flinching- I should do the smart thing and stay away.
But I still showed up.
Sat in the same seat. Pen in hand. Telling myself it was just class, that I could pretend none of it happened. That I didn’t still feel her under my skin.
She walked in right on time. Clipboard in hand, hair tied back like she always wore it when she meant business. She didn’t look at me. Just started writing on the board and talking through the lecture like it was any other day.
I didn’t hear a word of it.
I stared at her- the way her fingers gripped the marker, the way her voice stayed perfectly steady. I waited for her to slip. To glance my way. To show me something, anything, that meant I wasn’t losing my mind.
Nothing.
Then my pencil rolled off the edge of the desk and clattered to the floor. I bent to grab it, swearing under my breath. When I sat back up- everything stopped.
She was looking at me.
Dead on.
Not for long, maybe two seconds at most, but it happened. Our eyes locked, and for the first time in days, I saw her see me.
It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t anything I could name.
But it wasn’t nothing.
She blinked, turned back to the board, and continued like it hadn’t happened. Like it didn’t matter.
But it mattered to me.
Because now I knew.
She saw me. Still.
And that was enough to ruin me all over again.
═══════
It was almost midnight when I got the text.
Y/N: Are you up?
My heart jumped. I stared at the screen like it was a mirage.
I didn’t even answer. Just grabbed my hoodie, shoved on shoes, and left. Jimin didn’t ask where I was going. He just gave me a long look from his bed and muttered, “You’re gonna die in that woman’s arms.”
Honestly? That didn’t sound so bad.
I found her building still lit on the bottom floor. The same back entrance. The same flicker of nerves in my chest.
The door was already unlocked.
She was sitting at her desk when I walked in- legs crossed, blazer draped over the back of the chair, white button-down tight across her chest like she hadn’t just taught a full day. Like she hadn’t wrecked me already once before.
She didn’t say hi.
Didn’t smile.
Just stared at me for a long second, like she was debating whether this was a mistake.
Then she stood.
Walked over.
Stopped right in front of me.
I didn’t breathe.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“You texted me.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have.”
“Then tell me to leave.”
Her jaw tightened, her gaze flicking to my lips before meeting my eyes again.
But she didn’t say it.
Instead, she reached out, her fingers curling around the back of my neck, pulling me in. And then her mouth was on mine.
Hard. Desperate.
Teeth and tongue, no hesitation.
I groaned, my hands gripping her waist, pulling her closer. She pushed me back against the wall, our bodies slamming together like magnets finally finding their match.
“Take your shirt off,” she breathed against my lips, her breath hot and uneven.
I didn’t need to be told twice.
She watched me, her eyes dark with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I tossed the shirt aside, and her hands were already moving, tracing the muscles of my chest, my abs, her touch sending sparks of heat through my skin.
“I’m going to ruin you,” she whispered, her mouth trailing over my jaw, my neck, down my chest.
“Please,”
That was all it took.
She undid the buttons of her blouse, letting it fall to the floor, revealing her lacy black bra. Her skin was flawless, her curves soft yet commanding.
She pressed her body against mine, her breasts pressing into my chest, her hips grinding against mine. I could feel her heat, her need, and it fueled my own.
Her hands slid down my chest, over my stomach, and then slowly, she pushed my pants and underwear down. They pooled at my ankles, and I kicked them aside, my heart pounding in my ears.
The air against my bare skin was cool, but her hands were warm as they wrapped around my hips, pulling me closer.
And then she dropped to her knees.
The sight of her there, her pretty face framed by her loose hair, her eyes fixed on me with such intensity, was enough to make my knees weak.
But she wasn’t done teasing me yet. Her fingers brushed against my thigh, light and teasing, before she finally closed her hand around me. Her touch was firm, confident, and I let out a sharp breath, my head falling back against the wall.
"You like that, don’t you?" she murmured, her lips brushing against the head of my cock.
Her breath was warm, her words a whisper that sent a jolt of pleasure through me.
"Fuck, yes," I groaned.
She smirked, her tongue flicking out to tease the tip before she took me into her mouth. Her lips were soft, her tongue skilled, and she sucked me in deep, her throat closing around me in a way that made my vision blur.
I moaned, my hips bucking involuntarily, but she held me firm, her hand gripping my hip to keep me still.
"Not so fast," she chided, her voice muffled around me.
She pulled back, her lips sliding up and down my length in slow, torturous strokes. Her tongue swirled, her mouth wet and warm, and I was lost in the sensation, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
She edged me, pulling back just as I was about to climax, her fingers tightening around the base to keep me from spilling over.
"Beg me," she whispered, her eyes meeting mine, her lips glistening with my pre-cum.
"Please," I groaned, my voice desperate. "Let me cum."
She smirked, her tongue flicking out to taste me again. "No."
And she went back to work, her mouth relentless, her hands skilled, driving me to the edge again and again, but never letting me fall.
My moans filled the room, echoing off the walls, and I was a mess, my body trembling, my mind fogged with need.
"Please," I begged again, my voice breaking. "I need to cum."
She pulled back, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Say it properly," she demanded, her hand stroking me slowly, teasingly.
"Please Professor, let me cum," I gasped, my pride long forgotten. "I need to cum in your mouth."
Her smirk widened, and she leaned in, her lips closing around me once more.
This time, she didn’t hold back.
Her mouth moved faster, her tongue pressing against me, her throat opening as she took me deeper. I cried out, my hands gripping the wall.
It was messy, my cum spilling into her mouth, over her lips, but she didn’t stop, her mouth milking me until I was empty, until I was trembling and boneless against the wall.
She pulled back, licking her lips slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.
Y/N’s hands slid down my chest, her touch deliberate, possessive. She stepped back, her eyes locking onto mine with a smirk that sent a shiver down my spine.
Without a word, she slipped her skirt off, letting it pool at her feet. She was now in nothing but her lace panties and bra that clung to her like a second skin.
My gaze followed her as she walked over to her desk, her hips swaying with confidence. She leaned against it, one hand resting on the surface, the other gesturing me forward.
“On your knees and crawl,” she commanded, her voice low and commanding.
There was no hesitation in my movements. I dropped to my knees, my heart pounding in my chest, and crawled toward her.
The distance between us felt like miles, every inch a deliberate submission to her will.
Her eyes never left mine, her gaze intense, almost predatory. I could feel the weight of her desire, her control, and it only fueled my own.
When I reached her, her legs parted, her panties the only barrier between her and me. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk.
“You know what to do,” she ordered, her voice firm but laced with desire.
My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the waistband of her panties, but she stopped me with a touch on my wrist.
“With your teeth,”
I obeyed, gripping the delicate lace with my teeth and tugging downward. The fabric slid down her legs, leaving her completely exposed.
Her scent filled my nostrils, sweet and simply her, and I groaned softly, my mouth watering in anticipation.
She moaned softly as I pressed my lips to her, my tongue tracing the outline of her folds. Her hands tangled in my hair, guiding me, pulling me closer.
“That’s it, be a good boy,” she murmured, her voice thick with pleasure.
I hummed against her, the vibrations sending shivers through her body. Her fingers tightened in my hair, urging me deeper, and I complied, my tongue thrusting into her, tasting her, savoring her.
“Faster,” she commanded, her voice sharp but laced with desperation.
I quickened my pace, my tongue flicking against her clit, my lips sucking gently. Her moans grew louder, more urgent, her body arching against my mouth. I could feel her trembling, her muscles tensing as she teetered on the edge.
“Finger me,” she gasped, her voice barely audible over her ragged breaths.
I slid a finger inside her, then two, curling them up. Her walls clenched around me, tight and wet, and I groaned into her, the sound muffled by her flesh.
“Yes, just like that,” she moaned, her head falling back as she surrendered to the pleasure.
Her hands gripped the edge of the desk, her nails digging into the wood as she rode my mouth and fingers. I could feel her building, her body coiling tighter and tighter, until she finally shattered.
Her cry was loud, unrestrained, echoing through the sterile lab. Her body trembled as she came, her juices flooding my mouth, her walls squeezing my fingers. I drank her in, devouring her, my tongue never stopping, even as her orgasm began to fade.
“You did so good,” she whispered, her voice soft and breathless as she pulled me back, her hands cupping my face.
“Stand up,” she commanded, her voice was firm, but there was a playful edge to it.
I scrambled to my feet, almost hypnotized by her presence. The lab around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in a world of our own.
I stood before her, my breath ragged, my cock throbbing with need.
She was still seated on the edge of her desk, her legs slightly parted. Her eyes raked over me, taking in every detail. She smirked, her lips curling into a satisfied smile.
“Line yourself up,” she ordered, her voice low and commanding.
I stepped closer, my heart pounding in my chest. I positioned myself between her legs, my cock hovering just above her entrance. She reached out, her hands gripping my hips, guiding me into place. Her touch was firm, purposeful, and I shivered at the contact.
“You’re such a good listener,” she purred, her breath hot against my ear. “A good boy. And good boys deserve rewards.”
Her words sent a jolt of anticipation through me. I knew what she meant- she was going to let me cum.
She rocked her hips forward, taking me inside her in one smooth motion. Her walls clenched around me, tight and wet, and I groaned at the sensation.
“Fuck me,” she demanded, her voice sharp. “Show me how much you’ve missed this.”
I pulled back, then thrust forward, burying myself deep inside her.
She gasped, her head falling back as she gripped my shoulders. I set a steady rhythm, each thrust deliberate, each withdrawal slow and torturous.
The sound of our bodies meeting, the slick wetness of her, the way she moaned my name- it was overwhelming.
“Harder,” she commanded, her voice laced with desperation.
I obliged, picking up the pace, my hips snapping against hers. The lab table creaked beneath us, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of our bodies. I reached down, gripping her thighs, using them as leverage as I pounded into her relentlessly.
“You feel so good,” I groaned, my voice rough.
“Keep going,” she panted, her nails digging into my skin. “Don’t stop. I want to feel you cum inside me.”
Her words were like fuel to the fire burning within me. I thrust harder, faster, my control slipping as I neared the edge.
She met each thrust with one of her own, her body moving in perfect sync with mine. Her breasts heaved with each breath, her nipples tight and flushed, and I couldn’t resist leaning down to take one into my mouth.
She cried out, her hands tangling in my hair as I sucked and nipped at her sensitive flesh. “Yes, just like that,” she moaned.
Her words sent me over the edge. I felt the familiar coil of pleasure tighten in my gut, and I let out a guttural groan as I came, my cock pulsing deep inside her.
She screamed, her body arching off the table as her own orgasm ripped through her. Her walls clenched around me, milking me dry, and I shuddered as I emptied myself into her.
I gave her everything.
And when it was over-
When we were still breathing hard, clothes half-off, tangled together in her chair-
That’s when I said it.
“Do you regret it?”
She didn’t answer right away.
Her fingers brushed my hair back from my forehead.
Then she whispered:
“Don’t touch me like that, Jungkook, and expect it to mean anything.”
But I saw it.
The look in her eyes.
She felt it too.
She just wasn’t ready to admit it.
═══════
I didn’t say anything when I left.
Didn’t ask for a kiss goodbye. Didn’t ask if she’d text me again. Didn’t ask what the hell we were doing.
I just pulled on my shirt, grabbed my phone, and walked out of her office like I wasn’t coming apart at the seams.
The hallway felt colder on the way out.
Campus was dead quiet. A breeze moved through the trees like it was trying to whisper something I didn’t want to hear.
I walked slow. Hands in my pockets. Her taste still on my tongue.
My chest was tight. Like my ribs were holding in something too big, too dangerous.
Like hope.
She said not to expect it to mean anything.
She said it like a warning, but I heard it like a challenge.
Because I’d felt the way she kissed me. The way she gripped my hair. The way she held onto my wrist like she didn’t want to let go. I wasn’t imagining that.
I couldn’t be.
But what was I supposed to do?
I couldn’t tell anyone. Couldn’t ask her to hold my hand in daylight. Couldn’t even text her without waiting hours for a maybe.
I wanted her.
Not just her body.
Her.
Her voice when she wasn’t giving a lecture. Her laugh- if I could ever get her to really do it. I wanted to know what her bed looked like. I wanted to know how she’d look at me in the morning.
And all I could think about as I walked home in the dark was this:
What would it take for her to want me when the lights are still on?
═══════
The next morning, I could still smell her on my skin.
It made brushing my teeth feel ridiculous. Like I was pretending to be a normal person when every part of me still felt like it belonged to her.
Jimin didn’t ask questions this time. He just looked at me over his cereal and said, “Still breathing?”
“Barely.”
He nodded. “Tight.”
It was the most serious he’d ever been about anything.
Class came and went. She didn’t make eye contact again, but her hand brushed mine when she passed back a paper, and I swear to God, my fingers tingled for ten minutes afterward.
I couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t stop replaying the way she sounded when she came undone on top of me. Couldn’t stop wondering if she was thinking about it, too, or if she’d already shoved it in a drawer somewhere in her head labeled Mistake.
At lunch, I didn’t eat.
At practice, I was useless.
Every song made me think of her body against mine, of her lips on my neck, of her whispering, “Don’t be quiet. I want to hear you.”
I was spiraling and I knew it. I just didn’t care anymore.
That night, I didn’t try to sleep. I stared at my phone like it owed me something. Waited for her name to flash across the screen again.
It didn’t.
So I pulled up our old texts.
Scrolled all the way back to the first ones.
Y/N: Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.
I bit the inside of my cheek and typed something I probably shouldn’t.
Jungkook: I still want you. Even if you won’t say it back.
I didn’t send it.
I just sat there.
Staring.
Wanting.
And wondering what the fuck I’ve become.
═══════
I was in the dining hall when the message came in.
Y/N: My office. Now.
No greeting. No context.
My hands went clammy.
I didn’t even think. I just grabbed my phone, shoved my tray away, and walked out. Jimin shouted something behind me, but I barely heard him.
By the time I reached her office, I was already sweating. Not from nerves. From the what if.
The door was cracked. I knocked once.
“Come in.”
Her voice was calm. Controlled.
I stepped inside.
She didn’t look up right away. She was scribbling something onto a folder, seated behind her desk like she didn’t make me cum 48 hours ago.
When she finally did look at me, her eyes were unreadable.
“You’ve been distracted in class,” she said, like she was reciting it from a script.
“I wonder why.”
“Sit.”
I did. Of course I did.
She folded her hands on the desk. “This isn’t appropriate.”
I laughed- quiet, bitter. “Now we care about what’s appropriate?”
“Jungkook- ”
“No. You don’t get to call me in here like I’m being punished, act like I’m a problem, then keep pulling me back when it suits you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think this suits me?”
“Feels like it.”
There was silence.
She stood.
Came around the desk.
Stopped in front of me.
“I’m trying to protect both of us,” she said tightly. “You keep pushing.”
“Because I want you.”
“That’s not the problem.”
“What is?”
“You want too much.”
I stood. Stepped closer.
She didn’t move.
“I want you. Not the idea of you. Not just your hands or your mouth or what you whisper when you think I won’t remember.”
Her breath hitched. Barely.
“I remember everything,” I said.
“You should go.”
“I won’t.”
Her hand landed on my chest.
Not to shove me away.
Just to feel.
I leaned in.
“If you want me to leave, say it.”
Her mouth parted.
But no words came.
So I kissed her.
Hard.
And this time, she didn’t resist.
═══════
I didn’t mean to lose control.
But the second she kissed me again, I was gone.
It wasn’t slow this time. It wasn’t careful.
It was need.
She tore my shirt over my head like it offended her. My hands found her hips. She spun me, shoved me back into the door, kissed me like she wanted to erase the last forty-eight hours and start over from scratch.
“Lock it,” she breathed.
I did.
She was already halfway out of her blouse as she leaned in, her lips brushing against mine.
I caught her wrists, just for a second, and looked her in the eye. The lab around us faded into the background: the sterile smell of chemicals, the hum of the equipment, all of it disappeared. There was only her.
“You keep saying this doesn’t mean anything,”I whispered, my voice rough with frustration and desire. “Then why do you keep calling me back?”
Her breathing stuttered.
She didn’t answer.
She just kissed me harder.
The rest was a blur.
Heat. Her mouth. My hands.
The world narrowed to the press of her body against mine, the way her nails dug into my shoulders, the way her breath hitched in my ear.
Her voice was in my ear again, low and shaky this time- not commanding, not teasing. Just needing.
“Touch me,” she whispered. “Don’t stop. Please.”
Please.
That was new.
I didn’t say anything.
I just obeyed.
Because of course I did.
Her legs wrapped around me, and we moved like we were trying to break something. The silence. The distance. The rules.
Her hands were everywhere- tugging at my shirt, clawing at my back, pulling me closer. I could feel her heartbeat through her skin, fast and frantic, matching my own.
She bit my neck, and I gasped. My hands dug into her waist, holding her tight as if I could keep her there forever. And then-
She said it.
Soft. Raw. Rushed.
“I miss you when you’re not here.”
I stopped.
Not moving. Not breathing.
The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. She hadn’t meant to say it. I could see it on her face the second it slipped. She closed her eyes like she wanted to pull the words back into her throat.
But it was too late.
I kissed her again- slower this time.
Deeper. Slower
My lips moved against hers, my hands tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. She trembled under my touch, her body arching into mine. I could feel her need, her desire, her surrender.
And then, there was no more waiting. No more games. No more pretending this didn’t mean anything.
I pushed her back against the desk, the wood pressing into her skin. Her blouse was gone now, her bra quickly following. Her breasts were perfect, her nipples tight and begging for my mouth.
I took one into my lips, sucking gently, teasing her with my tongue. She moaned, her head falling back, her hands tangling in my hair.
“Jungkook,” she breathed, her voice thick with need. “Now- ”
I unbuckled my belt, my jeans sliding down my legs. Her eyes locked onto my cock, her lips parting as she watched me.
I stepped closer, her legs still wrapped around me, her core pressing against my thigh. She was already wet, her arousal evident, her body ready for me.
I didn’t bother with eating her out, even though I desperately wanted to. There was no time for it- no time for anything but this.
I gripped her hips, positioning myself at her entrance, and thrust inside her in one smooth motion. She gasped, her nails digging into my arms, her body tightening around me.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my head falling back as I savored the feel of her.
She was tight, so tight, her walls clenching around me like a vice. I pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, harder this time. She met my thrusts, her hips rising to meet mine, her legs tightening around my waist.
The desk creaked under us, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the silent lab. Her breath came in short gasps, her moans echoing off the walls.
I leaned down, kissing her fiercely, our tongues tangling as I moved inside her. Her hands gripped my shoulders, her nails leaving marks I’d wear like badges.
“Harder,” she demanded, her voice a husky whisper. “Fuck me harder.”
I grabbed her hips, lifting her slightly, and slammed into her with a force that made her cry out.
The sound sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I did it again, and again, our bodies slapping together in a rhythm that was anything but gentle.
Her head fell back, her hair spilling across the desk. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, her nipples hard and flushed.
I reached down, teasing her clit with my thumb, adding to the friction. Her walls fluttered around me, her body tensing as she neared the edge.
Her body shook, her cries filling the room as she climaxed, her walls milking me in a way that had me teetering on the edge.
I thrust into her one last time, my own release crashing over me, my cum pulsing deep inside her.
We stayed like that for a moment, our hearts pounding, our breaths ragged.
I rested my forehead against hers, our bodies still connected, the warmth between us undeniable.
“You could have me whenever you want,” I whispered into her skin, my lips brushing against her neck.
She smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made my chest ache.
“I know,” she murmured. “That’s the problem.”
═══════
She said she missed me.
She didn’t say it like a confession. She said it like a slip. A whisper between breaths, when her nails were digging into my shoulder and her mouth was on my throat.
But it stuck.
It echoed in my head all night.
“I miss you when you’re not here.”
She didn’t mean to say it. I know that. It broke through in the heat of it, something raw and unfiltered, and if she could take it back, she would. But she can’t.
And now I can’t think about anything else.
Every step I took away from her office last night felt heavier than the last. Like gravity had turned on me. Like the floor didn’t want me to leave her.
I didn’t even pretend to sleep. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling like it might spell out what the hell I’m supposed to do next. My heart still hadn’t calmed down.
Because now I knew-
She wanted me.
She might not say it. Might still act like it was nothing. But I’d felt it. In her hands. In her kiss. In the way she held me a little too long before letting go.
She keeps drawing lines, then crossing them. She tells me to stay away, then reaches for me like she’s starving. She keeps trying to act like this isn’t real.
But it’s real to me.
And it’s wrecking her.
I can feel it breaking her down every time I touch her.
And the worst part? I like it.
I like that I get under her skin. That I’m not just another name on her roster. I like the way she looks at me when she forgets to be careful- when I see the want plain as day in her face.
I want more of it.
I want her when she isn’t pretending this is a mistake. When she’s soft. Open. Mine.
I want to keep her.
But I don’t say that.
Not yet.
So I got up this morning, walked the halls like I was somewhere between dreaming and hungover, and made it to class on time.
She walked in late.
Hair loose.
Eyes tired.
She glanced at me, just once. A flicker. Barely a second.
But it landed like a hand around my throat.
Maybe she remembered.
Maybe she hadn’t slept either.
Maybe she was breaking, too.
I’d let her ruin me again. Right here. Right now.
If she asked.
Hell, she didn’t even have to ask.
═══════
I wasn’t expecting to hear from her.
Not that soon.
Not during the day.
But there it was. Just after the lecture ended.
Y/N: Office.
No other words. No context.
But something about it felt different. No clipped edge. No command in the punctuation.
I went anyway. Of course I did.
The door was already cracked open when I got there, so I stepped inside.
She was sitting behind her desk. Not standing. Not pacing. Just sitting- blouse unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Her hair was half-pulled back like she hadn’t looked in a mirror all day.
God, she was beautiful.
She didn’t look up right away.
And when she did?
She didn’t speak.
She just stared at me for a long time, her eyes softer than I’d ever seen them.
I didn’t say anything either.
I sat.
Waited.
It felt like forever before she finally spoke.
“Do you tell anyone about me?” she asked, voice low.
My heart tripped.
“No,” I said, quick and honest. “Of course not.”
“Not even Mr. Park?”
“I lie to him every time.”
Her mouth twitched- not quite a smile. Something else.
“I don’t think I could survive being found out,” she said.
Her voice wasn’t scared.
Just tired.
“You won’t be,” I promised. “I’d rather be buried than ruin you.”
She looked down at her hands.
That cracked something in me.
“You didn’t call me here just to ask that,” I said.
She hesitated.
Then she asked the question that cut clean through my chest.
“What do you want from me, Jungkook?”
It wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t her.
It was real.
And it hit harder than anything she’d ever said.
I swallowed.
Tried to find the right way to say something that wasn’t going to come out clean.
But in the end, I just told the truth.
“I want you.”
I said it like a prayer.
Soft. Honest. Unfiltered.
She looked at me like she’d been holding her breath for days. Like she didn’t know what to do with the space between us now that I’d filled it with truth.
And then, slowly, she stood.
She rounded the desk, not with power, not with her usual control- but like she didn’t trust her own legs.
When she stopped in front of me, I didn’t move. I waited.
She raised a hand to my face. Brushed her fingers along my jaw. I leaned into it without thinking.
“You shouldn’t want me,” she whispered.
“I do.”
She searched my face like she was looking for a way out.
But there wasn’t one.
She leaned down and kissed me, slow this time. No teeth. No control. Just her mouth on mine like she didn’t know how else to ask me to stay.
I stood and kissed her back, hands gentle on her hips.
She pushed her forehead to mine.
“Don’t make this soft,” she said. “I can’t afford soft.”
“I’m not trying to be soft,” I said. “I’m just not pretending anymore.”
She didn’t speak after that.
Just unbuttoned her blouse slowly, shaking fingers betraying the calm she wore like armor.
I helped, my hands trembling almost as much as hers.
The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, the kind that builds when two people have been dancing around something for too long.
Let her slide her hands under my shirt, her fingers brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
Her touch was tentative, as if she was afraid I’d pull away, but I didn’t. I let her explore, let her waistband slip under my jeans, let her skin meet mine.
We didn’t make it to the desk this time.
We didn’t even try.
The desk was too far, too formal, too much like the professional distance we’d been pretending to maintain.
Instead, I backed her into the nearest wall, my lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle.
Her hands were in my hair, then on my chest, then gripping my shoulders like she didn’t know where to hold on.
Her breath was hot and uneven, her body pressed flush against mine, and I could feel her heart racing through the thin fabric of her blouse.
When she moaned, it wasn’t commanding. It wasn’t deliberate.
It was broken, raw, like something she couldn’t hold back.
And when I lifted her up, she didn’t order me.
She just let me.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms tightening around my neck as I pressed her against the cold wall.
Everything was fast and hot and frantic- clothes shoved aside, breathless and messy. The lab around us faded into the background, the sterile smell of chemicals replaced by the scent of her skin, the sound of beakers clinking drowned out by our ragged breaths.
I didn’t bother with foreplay. There was no room for it in the urgency of the moment.
I pushed her skirt up her thighs, her panties already discarded on the floor, and positioned myself at her entrance.
She was wet, so wet, and when I thrust into her, she gasped, her head dropping back against the wall. Her nails dug into my shoulders, her legs tightening around me as I held her up, her weight barely noticeable despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through me.
“Jungkook,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, her breath hot against my ear.
I didn’t respond.
I couldn’t.
Words felt unnecessary when my body was screaming for hers.
I moved against her, slow at first, then faster, the wall creaking under the force of our bodies pressing against it.
Her hips met mine with each thrust, her moans growing louder, more desperate. The roughness of the wall against her back seemed to fuel her, her fingers clawing at my skin, her legs squeezing tighter around me.
I kissed her neck, her collarbone, my lips trailing down to her breasts, exposed and heaving with each breath. She tasted like salt and desire, her skin flushed and hot under my mouth.
“Harder,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of our bodies colliding.
I’ll always listen to her. I gripped her thighs, holding her steady as I pounded into her, the rhythm relentless, the friction between us electric.
Her breath hitched, her body tensing as she neared the edge.
“Jungkook, I- ” she started, but her words were cut off by a sharp cry as she came, her walls clenching around me, her nails digging into my back like she was trying to anchor herself to me.
I followed soon after, my release crashing over me like a wave, my name on her lips as I emptied myself into her.
For a moment, we just stood there, our bodies still joined, our breaths slowly returning to normal. Her head rested on my shoulder, her legs still wrapped around me, her arms loose around my neck.
The world felt still, the only sound being our ragged breathing and the faint hum of the lab equipment in the background.
And when I was inside her, when her head dropped against my shoulder and her nails dug into my back like she was holding on for dear life.
That's when I knew.
She needed this just as much as I did.
The walls she’d built, the distance she’d tried to maintain, it all crumbled in moments like these.
═══════
After, we stayed tangled against the wall, both of us catching our breath like we’d barely survived it.
Her hands were still in my hair. My palms were flat against her back. Neither of us moved for a long time.
She didn’t say anything.
Didn’t push me off.
Didn’t pull me closer, either.
She just kept her head resting against my shoulder, like she didn’t want to look at me yet. Like if she did, something would break.
I kissed her temple.
It was automatic.
She stiffened- just barely.
But she didn’t stop me.
Eventually, she pulled back. Adjusted her skirt. Ran a hand through her hair like she was rewinding herself into the version of her the world was allowed to see.
I stood there, waiting for something.
A thank you. A don’t come back. Anything.
Instead, she walked to her desk, picked up a pen, and clicked it twice.
Calm. Composed. Like she wasn’t still flushed from letting me fuck her up against the wall.
She finally looked at me.
And smiled.
Small. Precise. Almost cruel.
“I think you’re starting to believe I want more,” she said.
I blinked. “Don’t you?”
Her gaze dropped to my still-exposed chest, then back to my face.
“That’s not the question you should be asking.”
My stomach flipped.
“What should I be asking?”
She tilted her head.
“Whether or not you’re strong enough to keep this a secret.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
I didn’t even know what it meant.
But I nodded.
Because of course I did.
She stepped close. Fixed the collar of my shirt for me. Smoothed it down like I was her possession- not her mistake.
Then she said it. Soft. Controlled. With that same quiet dominance that always undid me.
“Next time, knock first.”
═══════
I left her office with my shirt half-wrinkled and fingerprints still on my chest.
She didn’t kiss me goodbye.
She didn’t look soft when I left. She looked calm. Reassembled. Like she’d slipped back into the version of herself that made men stammer and departments bow.
And I let her.
Because I knew what I looked like.
I looked ruined.
I made it halfway back to the dorm before I realized my hands were still shaking.
Not from fear.
From her.
From the way she touched me like she’d missed me. From the way her voice cracked when she said, “Please.” Like she didn’t want to need me- but did.
From the way she let me hold her like it meant something, even if she’d never admit it.
From the way she put me back together just to undo me again.
I didn’t go inside when I got to the building.
I sat on the steps like an idiot, hoodie pulled over my head, heart still slamming against my ribs.
It wasn’t just sex anymore.
It hadn’t been for a while.
I wanted her when she was angry. I wanted her when she was cold. I wanted her when she looked at me like I didn’t exist, and I craved her when she said my name like she owned it.
She was in me now. Under my skin. Between my ribs. Buried in places I couldn’t reach without bleeding.
I knew I should run.
But instead?
I reached for my phone and stared at the last message she’d sent.
Just her name on my screen.
I tapped it open.
Didn’t type anything.
Just looked.
Because I knew it already-
Whatever this was?
I wasn’t strong enough to walk away from it.
And if she called me again?
I’d go.
Every time.
═══════
I didn’t sleep.
I didn’t even try.
I laid there, staring at the ceiling like it owed me answers. My body still aches in all the places she touched. My lips were sore. My back was red. And my chest- my chest felt like it had been hollowed out and filled with her name.
Y/N.
It echoed in me like a heartbeat I couldn’t shut off.
I’d never felt like this before. Not even close. This wasn’t a crush. It wasn’t a kink. It wasn’t just sex. It was obsession. Devotion. Something deeper and more dangerous than I knew how to survive.
I wanted her constantly.
I checked my phone ten times an hour, even when I knew she wouldn’t text. I reread every word she’d ever sent me. I imagined her voice in my ear when I closed my eyes.
And the worst part?
I didn’t want to stop.
She could’ve told me to leave for good. She could’ve said it was over. But she didn’t.
She let me touch her.
She let me hold her.
She let me see the cracks.
And now I wanted to be the one who filled them.
Not fix her- just have her. All of her. On her terms or mine. It didn’t matter. I’d take her any way she’d give herself to me.
Even if it killed me.
By the time the sun came up, I’d already decided I’d go wherever this led.
Even if it was straight into fire.
═══════
She didn’t look at me.
Not once.
Just like before.
Like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t had her pressed up against her office wall twenty-four hours ago, her breath in my mouth, her nails in my back, her voice shaking when she whispered my name.
Now? She stood at the front of the lecture hall, hair slicked back, voice steady, posture perfect. Not a single flicker of emotion.
Cold. Professional. Perfect.
And I hated how much it hurt.
My leg bounced under the table. My fingers clenched around my pen, but I wasn’t writing. I wasn’t listening. I was watching her. Waiting. Starving for something- anything.
Just one glance.
She didn’t give it.
Even when she passed out lab assignments, she didn’t come near me. A TA handed me mine. Her gaze skipped right over me like I wasn’t even there.
Jimin leaned toward me.
“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?”
I didn’t answer.
“You look like someone drop-kicked your soul.”
Still nothing.
“Did you get dumped?” he asked.
I clenched my jaw.
Jimin narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Wait. Is this about-” he dropped his voice- “her?”
I didn’t say yes.
But I didn’t have to.
He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Jesus Christ, you really are in love with her.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why do you look like she murdered your puppy and posted it on Canvas?”
I laughed once. Bitter. Quiet. It wasn’t funny. Nothing about this was funny anymore.
She didn’t just avoid me in class.
She erased me.
And for the first time, it hit me- really hit me- that if she wanted to pretend none of it had ever happened, she could. She could wipe me out of her world with one decision, and no one would question it.
Because she had power.
And I had nothing.
═══════
I wasn’t going to go.
I told myself I wouldn’t. That if she wanted to pretend nothing happened, I’d let her. That I had enough self-respect not to chase someone who could erase me with a blink.
But by midnight, I was outside her office again.
The light was on. The door was closed.
I hovered for a second, heart slamming against my ribs. Then I knocked. Once. Twice. Nothing.
I tried the handle. It wasn’t locked.
When I pushed the door open, there she was—sitting behind her desk like she hadn’t just spent the last twenty-four hours cutting me out of her world. Her face was unreadable. Legs crossed. Pen in hand. A stack of papers she wasn’t even pretending to read anymore.
She looked up.
“Close the door,” she said.
I did.
And then I stood there, every part of me wired tight, waiting for her to say something else. Waiting for her to stop me. Break the tension. Look at me like she had the other night.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She said nothing.
“You think if you ignore me long enough, I’ll disappear?”
She looked up again. Eyes sharp. Calm. “Do you want to disappear?”
“No.”
“Then stop asking stupid questions.”
That should’ve made me mad. But it didn’t.
It made me ache.
I stepped closer, heart still slamming. Her eyes followed me. Not soft. Not cruel. Just watching. Calculating.
“I want you,” I said. “Even when you’re like this.”
“Like what?”
“Cold.”
She stood. Came around the desk. Not fast. Not slow. Like she was trying to decide what version of herself to give me tonight.
She stopped in front of me. Reached up. Touched the back of my neck. Her fingers were steady.
“You say that now,” she murmured, “but you like it when I ruin you.”
I didn’t breathe.
She leaned in, close enough that I could feel her words when they hit my skin.
“You show up when I call. You beg when I make you wait. You lose your mind when I take control.”
Her hand slid down my chest. Slow. Possessive. My heart pounded against her palm.
“Take off your pants.”
I did.
Because with her, I always did.
Her mouth was already on mine, her hand wrapped around the back of my neck like she was trying to hold me in place and pull me apart at the same time. I could barely think.
Her hips pressed against mine. My hands were under her blouse. The desk was too far. We didn’t care.
And then-
A knock.
Sharp. Two taps.
We froze.
Her breath caught in her throat. My stomach dropped.
Another knock. Louder this time.
“Professor?” A voice. Male. Confused. “You’re still in there?”
She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
I backed away. Stumbled. Nearly tripped trying to grab my shirt.
She didn’t look at me.
Her face didn’t change.
She stepped away like nothing happened. Smoothed her blouse. Buttoned it quickly but perfectly, like she’d practiced this before. Like she’d trained for it.
Another voice joined outside the door.
A second knock.
She raised a hand and pointed.
“Go,” she mouthed.
I ducked behind the tall cabinet in the corner- my heart pounding so loud I swore they’d hear it through the walls.
And then?
She opened the door.
Like nothing had happened.
“Oh,” she said, voice sharp and casual, like she was halfway through a sentence. “Yes. I’m just finishing up some files. What’s wrong?”
It was seamless.
The voice outside fumbled. “Sorry, just… didn’t realize anyone was still here.”
“No problem.”
“Need me to lock up when I go?”
“Please. I’ll be five more minutes.”
“Alright. Have a good night, Professor.”
“You too.”
She closed the door. Locked it. Turned around.
I stepped out from the cabinet, my pulse still erratic.
She didn’t meet my eyes.
She just walked back to her desk. Sat. Picked up a pen like she was grading.
Nothing happened.
I stood there.
Shirt half-on. Still hard. Still wrecked.
And I realized something for the first time:
She’s not scared.
She’s trained.
═══════
She didn’t say a word.
She just sat at her desk like nothing happened. Like I wasn’t half-naked behind her office cabinet ten seconds ago. Like I wasn’t still breathing hard and half out of my mind with the thought of her mouth on mine.
She didn't speak when I crossed the room, chest still tight, heart still raw from the question I hadn’t meant to ask- but couldn’t hold in any longer.
“Is this just sex for you?”
No answer.
Her eyes stayed on her desk. Her fingers tapped lightly against a closed folder.
I stepped closer.
“Do you ever wish it wasn’t a secret?”
Still no response.
But her hand stopped moving.
She didn’t breathe.
And when she finally lifted her gaze to mine- it hit like a punch to the chest.
There it was.
The truth, sitting behind her eyes like something dangerous she’d kept locked up for too long.
I held her stare.
Waited.
“Jungkook…” she said, voice quiet. Unsteady.
My throat tightened. I didn’t speak. I didn’t move.
I just waited.
And then-
She opened her mouth.
And closed it again.
Her jaw clenched.
She looked away.
But not before I saw it.
═══════
prev ♡ ???
MASTERPOST ♡ LINK TO ASK ♡ MASTERLIST
♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡
These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.
In a world where every single step is recorded and analysed by cameras, F1 racer Jeon Jungkook could care less about his reputation, having decided that with the amount of money he has he could buy the silence of everybody, if he wished.
Behind him, there's a girl losing her mind trying to get him to behave, knowing that her job is at risk if she doesn't cover up his mess-ups in time.
What happens when one of the most influential and world recognised racers falls head over heels for his PR manager, who absolutely despises his "I've got it all" attitude and wants nothing more than to keep doing her job in peace?
DISCLAIMER:
This story is set in the F1 world. I am not a part of the F1 fandom. Therefore, all the knowledge I'll put to use comes from research I've been doing lately. Since I plan on using at least a tiny bit of technical terminology, I'll link the official F1 website where the basics are explained and I'll create another post with all the basic useful informations (COMING SOON!).
CONTAINS:
Mature themes, including sex, alcohol and substances use and abuse, money bets, life-risking events, yearning, jealousy, flashbacks into the protagonists' pasts, slow burn, use of sex as a form of unhealthy coping mechanism, angst and unresolved past issues. MDNI.
THIS WORK IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION. PEOPLE, NAMES, PLACES AND BRANDS ARE USED FOR VISUAL PURPOSES ONLY. NONE OF WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO READ IS REAL.
INDEX:
- 하나 :
- 둘 :
- 셋 :
- 넷 :
(More chapters will be uploaded one by one. As of now, the introductory post will be posted to see if the idea is well liked and supported by readers. Please know that it's still work in progress, and I plan on posting Ch.1 once I'm working at least on the second half of the series. Thank you)
✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader
✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Situationship, idol!au, angst, smut, coworkers, love triangle maybe
✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: For months, you and Yoongi cling to each other in an unspoken arrangement neither of you knows how to end, until someone new makes you wonder if you should.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 250ish
✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes : A few months ago I held a mini contest within my fic Nerd & Nerdier which is to guess which MVs I referenced when Yoongi and MC where gossiping about their neighbors. The winner was none other than @glossdebut who picked her genre of choice.
Here’s a tiny preview of the angsty little thing.
TAGLIST IS OPEN | Masterlist
“I’m fucked up,” Yoongi’s voice slurs through the speaker.
You squint at the screen.
3:09 a.m.
Hm. It’s always around this time.
“Where are you?” you ask, voice thick with sleep.
“I’m here.”
The thing about Yoongi is here never means anything certain. With him, you’ve learned here is everywhere and nowhere all at once. An idol’s life. You made peace with it a long time ago — you take him when he shows up, and when he leaves, you pretend you don’t feel the hollow he drags behind.
You’d like to believe in out of sight, out of mind. But that’s a lie you don’t bother telling yourself anymore.
“You want me to call Seokjin?”
“Why? Still tryna sleep with him?”
And there it is, drunk and so, so unfair. Mean in the way only Yoongi can be when he’s hurting or drunk. Or both. You think this time it’s both. Finally.
A response to the text you sent last week. You thought he never read it. Now you know, he has.
You only mention Seokjin because he’s the one person who can come find Yoongi, who always has in his dumbest, darkest decisions.
“Yoongi, please,” you sigh. “Just send me your location.”
“Okay.”
Your phone buzzes. A pin drops.
And it’s your address.
You’re out of bed before you even register it, bare feet hitting the floor with a muted thud.
When you open the door, he’s already there, slouched against the hallway wall, cigarette tucked between his lips, white air curling around him like a watercolor painting.
“You’re not supposed to smoke in the hallway,” you say, more breath than scold, pushing the door wider.
“I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Then why are you?”
A/N: Ready for more? Drop me a note! <3
Permanent Taglist: (the rest to follow in a reblog)
plot | that time popstar!yn is on her tour's day two in paris, and fans are wondering if she's finally doing the most requested position of all time. the one that may require her bassist (and rumored boyfriend), yoongi.
w.c | 1980
pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader
genre | fluff, humor, enemies to lovers, slow burn
note | i'm still calling it twitter
main masterlist | series masterlist
DAY 301: PARIS, FRANCE
It's everywhere. Predictions about your possible Juno position for your second performance night in Paris are all over social media before you even officially land in the said country. It didn’t help that you and your band members are active on social media, alluding that something is happening behind the scenes. There were also sightings of your close friend, another celebrity, who you knew was staying in France for his vacation. Your fans, who were already elated with the upcoming performance later tonight, flooded you with mentions on Twitter, which resulted in a short and unplanned Q and A.
You were in the middle of your rehearsal break when you finally got hold of your phone after posting that late IG story hours ago. Knowing how excited your fans are at the moment, you reinstalled your Twitter app just to have some interactions with them. It has been so long since you opened your account there, since you were avoiding seeing any tweets about your breakup from last year. You smiled as you typed in your tweet, along with a photo you prepared for today, swaying your feet as you sat at the edge of the stage.
While you have all of your focus on your phone, you didn't even notice Yoongi, who's sitting on one of the empty seats in the area where the VIP audience usually sits. He cannot help but smile while he sips his Americano, looking at you. He wondered what made you so giggly and smiley on your phone. Meanwhile, his phone kept on vibrating in his pocket, which made him reach for it. That’s when he got the answer to his curiosity. Notifications from your Twitter account popped up one after the other. He chuckled before clicking on the app to read more of your tweets.
You giggled at the friendly banter you had with one of your fans. Scrolling down the tag, you smiled even harder when you found an interesting question to reply to.
Yoongi had to laugh with that one. Hearing that, you turned your head up, finally seeing him sitting alone just a few feet down the stage. Your left eyebrow raised, wondering what made him laugh on his phone.
“Where are the others?” you asked all of a sudden, just to get his attention.
Your bassist looked up and met your gaze. “They went out for snacks. I got your coffee here.”
He points out the still-warm takeout coffee cup he has on the empty seat next to him. You smiled before reading yourself to jump from the stage rather than taking the stairs. Seeing that, Yoongi immediately stood up.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“I’ll jump,” you replied, already inching yourself at the edge.
He clicked his tongue while shaking his head, “No, just take the stairs.”
You pouted. “This is easier. I hate the stairs.”
“You might get hurt. Art and Cal will both kill me if I let you do that,” he said while walking towards you. He then stood just a few feet lower than you.
From your point of view, he looked nonchalant, yet he opened both his arms.
You squinted, “Are you gonna catch me?”
“Nope, I just like opening my arms at random times like this,” he scoffed.
You rolled your eyes. “And I like jumping from high places.”
He shook his head again before telling you sternly, “I don’t care. Just jump, diva.”
So you did. Even though you would have loved to continue the childish banter. And he did catch you, helping you carefully land your feet on the ground. Steadily and easily, he got you with one hand, holding you up against your back. Unconsciously, your face is almost buried in his neck, like you were magnets, they just connect instantly. Maybe it was because he still wore the familiar scent that makes butterflies stir in your stomach.
And maybe that’s why you didn’t pull away right away.
With how close you are, you can feel his heart beating almost at the same pace as yours. Fast and loud. Slowly pulling away, your eyes interlocked with each other. It was a heavy exchange of stares, anchored with something heart-fluttering that you two didn’t have to label anymore. A small smile tugged at your lips as you noticed his eyes moving down.
“Thank you,” you whispered before stepping back.
Yoongi followed behind you, trying not to put his heart over his beating chest. He sat in a seat apart next to you while you took a sip of the coffee. The much-needed caffeine helped you feel warmer and comfortable in your baby blue sweatshirt.
“You liked it?” he asked even though he already knew the answer.
“Yep, I needed that. Thank you,” you replied, putting down the cup. You turned to him. “Why are you here, by the way? You don’t want to explore the city in your free time? We’re only here for a few days.”
He shrugged, “I don’t know, I just had this gut feeling that you will do something reckless and I need to stick around.”
It was your turn to scoff, “Yoongi, just say you stayed behind for me. It’s okay.”
He looked at you, brows furrowed, “Don’t flatter yourself.”
And he didn’t even deny it, you thought to yourself.
As soon as everyone got back, the rehearsal resumed. This time, it was a dress rehearsal. So you had more time and room for errors and adjustments. While Art is talking with the band about something related to your time on stage, you take a quick scroll on your phone. You instantly took notice of a certain tweet getting a lot of attention. You laughed at it as it sparked something in your brain. You swiped up your finger on the app to see more tweets from your fans, but a notification from a verified account popped up. You turned around to see Yoongi raising his brows. You typed in your phone before giving it to your very pregnant assistant, Cal.
The fishbowl method.
That method is known to be Yoongi's greatest enemy. Whenever any staff member of your tour brings out that glass bowl that was filled with rolled papers, he just knows he will hear his name from that staff member’s tongue. And today is no different day.
It was during the second rehearsal break of the day when Cal came in holding the infamous transparent bowl.
“So, everyone, this is for the Juno performance. We need two people for tonight,” she said it like it’s gonna be something fun.
Although Yoongi literally had no idea why, everyone seemed to be excited upon hearing Cal’s instructions as they cheered, including you. Fred, who is happily married and permanently removed from choices for the Juno performance participants, sat along with you and your dancers. He was cheering too. For more variety, the fishbowl included the names of your band members and dancers.
“YN, will you do the honors of picking two names in our bowl of names?” Cal called you up.
“Okay, here we go. Drumroll, please,” you quipped, but Fred followed, running to his drums and playing them.
Knowing his fate, Yoongi was not surprised anymore when he heard his name after Noah’s. He is not even disappointed or frustrated. He just accepted and expected that the fishbowl method loves him. But what he did not expect was the reason for today’s fishbowl method. While you explained your plan for tonight’s Juno performance pose, Yoongi just shook his head with a smile as he was already used to your straightforward poses. He just didn’t expect that you could be this creative for positions.
“So, do you want to be at the back or the front?” Noah asked, which can sound strange without context.
Yoongi blinked, “What?”
He was obviously dumbfounded, making the others laugh. You tried not to laugh while you bit off your inner cheek.
“He means for the Eiffel Tower,” you explained, which didn’t really clarify anything for him.
Noah cuts in to help, “We are basically the tower itself, while YN is the centerpiece. She will bend forward, and we-” he clasped his hands together, “Are gonna high-five over her.”
“That’s your Juno position for tonight?!” Yoongi looked at him, then to you.
You nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, the Eiffel Tower!”
When it finally registered in his head, everyone can see Yoongi’s shoulders deflating as he shakes his head with a smile. Just smiling over how stupid yet creative this whole thing is. His defeated stance made Fred and the dancers laugh.
“I swear, we should change that fishbowl method,” he muttered, pushing his hair back.
“I think the fishbowl likes you a lot,” you teased him.
“I don’t think it was just the fishbowl,” he replied, making you pause while you three walk to the heart-shaped center stage.
Noah, who did not hear that last line since he walked faster, snapped his fingers, “Catch up, lovers. Let’s do this test run for the Eiffel Tower. I’m honestly starting to feel like the third wheel here.”
He said the name sarcastically, which resulted to you rolling your eyes and Yoongi scratching the back of his neck. You get into the position. You have your sparkly mic in your right hand, singing the last line before the pose.
“Wanna try out some freaky position?”
The guys stood on your front and back. Noah was on the front, while Yoongi was behind you.
“Have you ever tried… this one?”
You bent forward as Yoongi and Noah high-fived over you, which instantly earned some whistling and cheers from your tour staff and dancers. You laughed, making you lose balance and accidentally grind against Yoongi. You only snapped out of it when he instinctively gripped your hips to steady you in place.
Noah, who saw this happen, gaped, “Oh my god, someone wash my eyes with holy water.”
Being the dramatic one, he threw up his hands and walked away in exaggerated disbelief. You and Yoongi, on the other hand, seemed to be in your own little world as you looked over your shoulder to look at him.
“Oops, sorry,” you said without really meaning it.
He raised an eyebrow, “Really?”
You shrugged, standing back up, “Eh.”
Noah groaned from afar, leaning on one of the big speakers near their instruments, “Where is the HR for this tour?! I need to report something!”
The joke made everyone laugh. Akio, being the second most dramatic one in the band, dramatically consoled Noah. You stifled a laugh, turning around in their direction.
“Oh my god, you’re making me look like I’m a problem here.” you fed into their little bit that was going on.
Your best friend accusedly pointed out his finger, “You are the problem, and so is Tower B over there.”
Mr. Tower B, who stood next to you, remained casual as he muttered, “I don’t mind what’s going on. I kinda liked the view.”
The subtle smugness in his statement got a loud reaction from everyone. Fred laughed. The dancers howled. Akio and Noah groaned. The rehearsals are getting a little messier so Art had to step in.
“Okay, everyone. Let’s go rehearse the performance from the top again,” he signalled the dancers to stand up before turning to you and Yoongi. “And less thrusting, this time.”
You gasped even though you knew he was just teasing you, “There was no thrusting! I accidentally ground against him, that’s very much different!”
Art gave you a look that said, “Uh-huh, sure.”
Yoongi remained unbothered, “Yeah, thrusting is different. It requires intent.”
With that unexpected remark, the room erupted with laughter. All while your eyes widened, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks.
“Yoongi!” you scolded him through an embarrassed gritted grin.
He looked at you, nonchalant as he blinked innocently, “What? I was just explaining!”
ᯓ★ you'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you
pairing: tattooartist!jungkook x singer!fem!reader
summary: after yet another petty fight with jungkook, the guy you refused to label, he did the one thing that made your blood boil — brought his new girlfriend to your show.
genre: singer au, social media au, fluff, angst, situationship to ??
warnings: language
⋆ before songs sound like him┃teaser
⋆ 01 | kookie monster
⋆ 02 | no pants, no labels, just us
⋆ 03 | the flame he lit
⋆ more coming soon...
please don't claim or copy any of my work !!
𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞. @rjooniesdimples - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
