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She/Her - (EN - PT - ES) Spreading kindness. Writing in my spare time. Intolerance will not be tolerated.

[oddinary4bts]

Iris | Masterpost (jjk)

☆summary: when you move to Seoul to do some research on your upcoming book, your life gets tangled with the city's celebrity scene. It leads to you crossing paths with Jeon Jungkook, whose confusing behaviour convinces you that he hates you. Only, you might have misread his intentions from the beginning...

☆status: next update on May 8th, 2026

☆pairings: drummer!Jungkook x writer!female reader, Jennie x Taehyung, Hoseok x OC, Namjoon x OC, Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: enemies (annoyances?) to lovers!au, celebrity!au, rockstar!au, smut, angst (make it dramatic), fluff

☆total word count: 188.3k

☆a/n: following a bad heartbreak last year, I fully lost my interest in writing. until I stumbled upon this fic that I had started like two years ago and never touched again. after reworking the premise (it initially was fully idol!au), this baby was born and gosh do I love it and its characters. I hope you guys enjoy it, as it was my way of healing from that bad break up and also as it taught me how to love writing again <3 it goes through dark stuff, and as per usual, each chapter will be appropriately labelled with its own warnings. Please be on the lookout for those!

☆Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this fic <3 i am so thankful for you and your work, as always!

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am

Iris, The Goo Goo Dolls

☆☆☆☆☆

➳Teaser: the first time he sees you (1.7k)

Just give her the fucking NDA so we can go back to partying.

➳Chapter one: when you meet Jeon Jungkook (8.1k)

I didn't expect him to be rude.

➳Chapter two: when your paths cross again (12.4k)

You're not still thinking she'll start rumors?

➳Chapter three: when you go to the same afterparty (12.4k)

I was in love with you as a teenager.

➳Chapter four: when you and Jeon Jungkook clash (11.7k)

Some people just don't get along, and that's okay.

➳Chapter five: when he starts texting you (10.8k)

Goddamn. Jeon Jungkook.

➳Chapter six: when you go to his concert (14.8k)

I just wouldn't get attached if I were you.

➳Chapter seven: when you spend a day with him (10.1k)

So you're not denying it?

➳Chapter eight: when you witness love breaking and blooming (8.5k)

Just friends, huh?

➳Chapter nine: when you find out how hard goodbyes are (13.1k)

What am I doing here then, Jungkook?

➳Chapter ten: when you break (12.9k)

You lied like it was nothing.

➳Chapter eleven: when you wake up (10.3k)

Leave.

➳Chapter twelve: when you let go (12k)

But I promise I will heal, and I really want you to heal, too.

➳Chapter thirteen: when you meet again in Okinawa (15.8k)

Heartbreak is one of the most universal things there is.

➳Chapter fourteen: when you go back to Seoul (15k)

I've been thinking about you a lot.

➳Chapter fifteen: when you give each other a second chance (9.3k)

Love doesn't come without risk, ever.

➳Chapter sixteen: when you love him, and he loves you too (11.2k)

You're the love of my life.

☆☆☆☆☆

All right reserved to @oddinary4bts, 2026. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[jenyluv]

WAVE 𝜗ৎ part 1/2

wave— your weekly anonymous psychoanalysis on cute boys with broad shoulders and pretty girls in tiny skirts. make sure to not miss any updates from campus’ favorite emotionally invasive blog!

jeon jungkook is a notorious lady pleaser with a weak spot for pretty girls with big vocabularies. so when he unexpectedly meets you, a journalism major who happens to be the prettiest girl he has ever seen, he terribly, miserably folds.

PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x journalist!reader

GENRE: college au, fluff, smut, angst

WC: 12.5k (for part 1)

WARNINGS/DETAILS: fem!reader, ie major!jk, secret identity reader, jk thinks she’s soo pretty :( forced proximity?, reader’s kinda selfish sometimes, jk’s so horny the entire time, jk briefly kisses another girl, very cheesy college vibes, jealousy, alcohol consumption, smut wise: titty sucking, he hits it from the back, cowgirl, fingering, big d jk always

NOTES: okay you see, i write everything with the entirety of my heart and soul but this one carries details that are a bit too special to me compared to anything i’ve shared with you before. of course it’s just another silly little fanfiction but i got a bit absorbed into the characters and world building. also it feels like i’ve been working on this for ages so i wanted to share it in two parts bcs i was gonna lose my mind if i didn’t post at least parts of it soon enough. i hope you guys feel and enjoy this the same way i did while writing <3

𑣲 banner by 𑣲 divider by

There's a specific kind of loneliness that exists exclusively in university boys who project their fear of intimacy onto women and ruin their perceptions of love solely to keep their fragile egos away from slipping through their fingertips and breaking down like blades of glass. 

Not because they're incapable of being loved. I'd say the situation is quite the opposite, actually. People like them are usually loved too loudly, too quickly. They become socially unavoidable before they become emotionally available— having mastered the art of making people feel personally seen while remaining uniquely difficult to access in return.

And maybe, that's where the actual problem begins.

Charm is easier to preform than vulnerability, attention is more addicting when you've never experienced a form of raw intimacy, and a real conversation probably feels worse than a pair of red, glossy lips. 

Every generation repackages the same socially gifted boy with commitment issues and calls him different names, swearing this one is different than the last.

But surprise, it's not.

This year's version just happens to wear leather jackets and lip rings to nine a.m lectures while also somehow possessing actual analytical skills in addition to social ones— perhaps the most alarming thing about Jeon Jungkook is that he isn't a business major. 

Because boys like Jeon Jungkook learn early that if they remain entertaining enough, nobody will notice how carefully they avoid stillness; as though silence might physically harm them. Does an engineering major make him interesting? Maybe. But does it fuel his hedonistic lifestyle? Not exactly. 

The bass is thudding loud enough to make the kitchen cabinets tremble with every beat, pulsing through the frat house in uneven waves that settle through your body like a second heartbeat. Alcohol that's cheap enough to poison you on an empty stomach spills over sticky counter tops, and the room reeks with the smell of warm beer mixed with something disgustingly similar to your ex boyfriend's cologne— you're going to throw up.

But you don't. Because, well, you can't. 

So you keep holding a cup of cranberry vodka in your hand despite accommodating a strong dislike for the drink, you keep your smile warm and flirty even though deeply missing the comfort of your bed and wanting nothing more than to rewatch Mamma Mia for the third time this month. And you keep bobbing your head along to the music even though you swear any house beat without proper lyrics would be enough to kill a fly. 

You keep your chin high and your posture straight because you need this. You need something tangible. A reaction, anything capable of sitting inside your palm until you can carry it home and pour into words later. Because you've already wasted at least three hours of your precious friday night here and you are not leaving unless you find something worth pocketing.

Luckily for you, said Jeon Jungkook is standing at the center of it all. 

His back is pressed against the kitchen counter as a girl keeps on kissing him as if the birth and death of her universe lies somewhere between his lips. Her fists are tangled in the collar of his leather jacket, tugging his body closer and closer into her smaller frame like distance is completely unnecessary, like she needs his body to melt and mold with hers to embody the entirety of proximity itself.

A familiar voice shouts his name from the living room, but Jungkook doesn't budge until someone else reaches over to steal the drink straight out of his hand, laughing into her mouth unapologetically.

He pulls away just enough to see whoever it is that's calling him, hands firming up on the girl's waist to stabilize himself. "Give me thirty seconds!" He shouts back casually.

The response is immediate. "You said that twenty minutes ago!"

"Then clearly I'm busy."

The girl in front of him rolls her eyes, hands loosening on his collar before dropping down to his chest. "You're an asshole."

"Mhm, you think?" He asks with a smirk playing on his lips, looking down at her. 

"Do you ever take a break or is your case of over sexuality a medical condition?" Mingyu complains, drinking the beer he has just taken from Jungkook's hand as their shoulders bump into each other.

Jungkook finally pulls away fully, shifting closer to Mingyu. "You're obsessed with me." 

Mingyu scoffs. "Unfortunate for Seoul's female population."

"Guys," Yugyeom interrupts, looking up from his phone with a sudden delight on his face, as if the light from his phone's screen has traveled and bloomed again behind his pupils. "Wave posted." 

The reaction arrives in less than a second, because Wave had long stopped being just another anonymous campus blog sometime during sophomore year. It became something students enthusiastically refreshed during lectures, sent feverish screenshots to group chats at ungodly hours. Because everyone somehow grew to love Wave— until they became the subject of it.

Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, sparing a fraction of a second to recollect the exasperation in his heartbeat, inhaling slowly. "I swear if this psychopath wrote about me again—" 

Yugyeom's grin widens. "Bad news, superstar." 

"For fuck's sake." Jungkook mutters, snatching the phone away from Yugyeom's hand while Mingyu's laugh echos loudly from besides.

The familiar layout of wave flashes straight into his eyes, light blue and dreamy and so fucking pretty for a blog this cruel. Well, cruel would be an exaggeration, if you weren't Jeon Jungkook.

"Oh my god." Mingyu gasps. "Second paragraph is crazy." 

"Crazy accurate." Jaehyun corrects, reaching over Jungkook's shoulder to keep reading.

"This person needs psychiatric help." He says flatly.

"Mhm." Jaehyun hums, taking a sip of his drink. "You say that because you secretly agree with everything." 

Okay, you see, that's the problem with Wave. 

The issue had never really been the concept itself, because Wave has always been undeniably good. Jungkook can survive a day or two of public embarrassment. God knows he has spent the last two years of university building an almost concerning amount of immunity to people's uncalled opinions. The problem is that whoever it is that's sitting behind that stupid light blue website is unsettlingly gifted at noticing things they absolutely shouldn't. The tiny, quiet things people lock somewhere safe beneath their hearts and reveal only when they trust someone with their lives. 

It suffocates him sometimes, not that he'd ever say it like that.

"I'd rather die than agree with this hypocrite." He says instead.

Jaehyun nods dismissively. "Right."

The girl beside Jungkook leans over his shoulder, eyes laced with curiosity. "Wait, keep reading." 

"Use your damn phone." He shuts her off immediately, handing the phone back to Yugyeom.

Yugyeom grabs his phone in one hand while he shakes Jungkook's shoulder dramatically with the other. "Did you do something to this writer we don't know of?"

"Why are you acting like i personally asked to be publicly humiliated?" 

Mingyu shrugs. "Because you clearly enjoy it a little.

"I actually don't." Jungkook argues. 

Majority of the people around him dissolve slowly, disappearing into the crowd to find their own group of friends to gossip on the article that just got posted, leaving Jungkook with his own group of friends who unfortunately do not make up the IQ of a normal person even when merged together.

"Hey," Jungkook says like he suddenly remembered something so crucial, angling his body towards Jaehyun. "Have you seen Mark?" 

Jaehyun's brows pull together. "Thought he was coming later."

"He texted me like an hour ago." 

"Your secret little rendezvous?" Yugyeom asks knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jungkook scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes. "Shut the fuck up."

Mingyu gasps dramatically. "You're cheating on us with the music major?"

"None of you are funny." Jungkook says, shaking his head once before letting his gaze drift around the kitchen while Mingyu and Yugyeom start arguing about something else entirely.

Then he spots you.

Oh. 

Jungkook knows you. Okay, he doesn't exactly know you, but he knows of you. Through Mark, through Yugyeom, through this and through that but never truly by heart.

You, with a face carefully designed by gods, standing there mindlessly as if you aren't the textbook definition of beauty itself. You, who'd without a doubt get his cock rock solid in mere seconds by rolling your eyes and laughing at how dumb he is. You, who'd pretend to not be fazed by him while very obviously blessing him with flirty smiles and inviting eyes.

You would be…mildly inconvenient for him.

"Why are you staring at her like that?" Jaehyun asks from besides him. 

Jungkook tears his eyes away immediately. "You're seeing things."

Mingyu laughs loudly, chiming in a beat later. "You literally are." 

"Shut up." 

"You don't even know her like that." Yugyeom adds, grinning. 

"I know enough." 

Jaehyun lifts his brows accusingly. "That is?"

Jungkook opens his mouth, but closes it again in no time. Because somehow saying prettiest girl on campus who'd drop him to his knees by casually using words he has to mentally spell twice feels a little excessive for a girl he's never had a proper conversation with in his life. 

"Mark's friends with her, right?" He asks instead. 

Jaehyun nods slowly, a little suspicious. "Yeah." 

"Cool." Jungkook replies. And before any of his friends can say another word, he's pushing himself away from the counter and walking towards you. 

Mingyu gasps dramatically behind him. "Oh my god, he's approaching." 

"Act natural!" Yugyeom shouts over the music. 

Jungkook scoffs in exasperation, but he doesn't turn around, walking towards you as he flips them off by waving a hand behind. 

You notice him coming over almost immediately. Because Jeon Jungkook isn't exactly one to go unnoticed by many, and that sadly seems to cover you too. There is something annoyingly conspicuous about him, visible even in places that are so crowded you lose your friend within the bare minute of getting there. 

Maybe it's the broad shoulders, maybe it's the tattoos and the lip rings that usually wink at you before even he gets the chance to, or maybe it's the fact that everybody seems to orbit around him with a push and pull so heavy it feels like he's the center of gravity itself.

It's probably the shoulders. 

Miyeon, your gorgeous best friend, notices him too as his steps get closer and closer to where you are standing. Her lips twitch knowingly around the rim of her cup. "Well," She murmurs into her drink. "This should be interesting." 

Jungkook stops right in front of you before you can reply to your friend. "Hey." He greets easily. And annoyingly enough, his voice sounds exactly the way the rest of him looks.

You tilt your head slightly, half empty cup swaying between your fingers. "Hey yourself."

Jungkook blinks once before letting out a breathy laugh. "Oh, this is already going badly for me." 

Miyeon snorts into her drink, but you quickly nudge her arm before she says something she shouldn't. "I'm looking for Mark." Jungkook continues, gaze shifting back towards you. "Have you seen him?" 

"You're looking for Mark?" You repeat, cocking a brow. 

And for some reason, Jungkook's smile widens. "We were supposed to meet." 

The answer catches you a little off-guard. Not because Jungkook knowing Mark is strange. It's not, everybody knows Mark. But because there is something in the way he says it. He's saying it seriously, with intention. Like whatever they're meeting about actually matters to him and that's not something you can coherently place somewhere solid in your head.

"You sound committed to that." You say before you can stop yourself.

Jungkook squints his eyes. "I can commit to things."

You take a sip of your drink, taking your time with the action as your brows raise with something laced with accusation. "You sure?"

Jungkook's eyes widen just slightly as Miyeon turns away, trying to hide her laughter. But she cackles anyway. "That's crazy." He says, a loose grin forming on his face. "You know absolutely nothing about me." 

"You don't exactly strike me as somebody mysterious." 

"Yeah?" He breathes. "What do i strike you as?"

You roll your eyes, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. And whatever that happens in Jungkook's chest— it's deeply unfortunate. 

This is exactly his type, horrifically so. Pretty has never been an issue for Jungkook, he has been surrounded with pretty all his life. Pretty and mean, on the other hand, is apparently where the problem in his pants begin. 

But before either of you can continue, Jungkook's name is yelled from across the room. "There you are!" Mingyu shouts, throwing an arm around Jungkook's shoulders after he makes his way towards you. "Some girl is throwing up on Jaehyun's shoes because you disappeared." 

Jungkook closes eyes briefly, inhaling a long breath. "See? What's commitment if not that?" 

You laugh despite yourself, loud and real and so fucking pretty Jungkook thinks he might've forgotten how to breathe properly. 

"I'll tell Mark you were looking for him." You say. 

"Appreciate it." He says before stepping backward towards the kitchen, then pauses suddenly. "By the way," He starts, causing you to raise a brow. "You're prettier than your articles sound." 

Your expression freezes for a beat, lips parted and head still tilted. A lazy smirk dances on Jungkook's features before disappearing back into the crowd behind Mingyu, leaving you standing there with your drink still halfway raised. 

Miyeon slowly turns towards you. "What the fuck was that about?" 

Your eyes linger on the hallway Jungkook disappeared into, gaze floating like you've just wandered into an ocean with no trace of the start and end. Because no, you don't have an idea on whatever the fuck that was either.

Your phone buzzes before your thoughts can swallow you up any further.

namjoon: still awake?

Your eyes flick between the small digital clock on the corner and the text in the middle of your screen before your fingers move over the keyboard.

you: i'm at yugyeom's party

namjoon: you posted during a frat party?

You roll your eyes even though he can't see you, though you're sure he feels it behind the screen.

you: it was queued

namjoon: ah

namjoon: coffee at mine?

namjoon: you can sleep over

You lift your head at something Miyeon says, nodding your head without really listening to what she's talking about. You tuck your bottom lip into your teeth, weighting your options before deciding to give in.

you: wow, the honor

you: on my way

The city feels different after midnight.

Maybe not quieter, because noise never really dies down on friday nights. People like to laugh, dance, live. Because modern time doesn't really allow love anymore. Because people spare friday nights for themselves and keep it tucked somewhere they know it belongs. Because people yearn to belong and time doesn't like to stretch and bend around desire. It just moves. 

The city feels softer, as if somebody reached over and mellowed the space so that everyone could find a place for themselves. At least, that's exactly the way you feel when your uber drops you off outside of Namjoon's apartment building twenty minutes after you leave Yugyeom's place. The clock is ticking past two in the morning, and by the time you make your way upstairs, your feet are aching and your social battery has officially ran out.

When the door opens, Namjoon greets you with that same old warmth you've had memorized for nearly four years— almost the entirety of your college years. He gives you a hug before disappearing back into the hallway, informing you of how the coffee is almost done. 

His place is dim except for the kitchen, where a warm light spills in and drapes over the entire apartment in a yellow hue. It always smells the same here. Not in a weird way, not at all. Just very…specific. It smells like books that have already been read at least twice and expensive coffee beans that are too niche for you to have any understanding of— because to the normal person, they all just taste the same.

Definitely not to Namjoon. 

You slip your heels off by the door, following him into the kitchen after dropping your purse somewhere on the couch. "Do you want to lose all the sleep left in your system?" You ask, gaze dragging over the empty coffee mugs on the counter. 

Namjoon stands in the kitchen with his back turned to you, dressed comfortably in some gray sweatpants and a dark colored hoodie. His glasses sit low on his nose, hair falling onto his forehead in messy strands. "I'm writing something." He says, a soft smile forming on his face as he pours in the hot liquid carefully. "How was the party?"

You climb onto the counter, plopping your body onto the marble as your legs dangle above the height. You unashamedly stare at him for a moment, taking in the sweats and the glasses and the fact that he somehow still looks put together despite the hour. Because Namjoon looks a little unfair like this— annoyingly intelligent and completely at home.

"It was loud." 

Namjoon hums, handing you the mug. "The alcohol was terrible, i spent the whole night trying to keep Miyeon away from Yugyeom, and someone cried in the bathroom after throwing up on the floor."

"Sounds typical to me." 

You take a sip of the coffee, then groan immediately because it's still too hot to drink, before setting it down with exaggerated annoyance dancing on your face. You trail behind him into the living room, pulling your legs beneath yourself as you sink into the couch while he settles right next to you with his laptop balanced over one knee.

"You're actually writing." You say, eyeing him over the rim of your mug.

"I told you." Namjoon says, giving you a brief glance before he turns his attention back onto the screen. 

Your eyes absentmindedly drift towards the screen of his laptop, floating over the margins that are filled with notes, sections that are highlighted, pages filled with comments and edits that are all very Namjoon. And for a second, for the entirety of a thousand milliseconds that feel way longer than it actually is, your own laptop sitting abandoned inside the void of your apartment suddenly feels eccentrically heavier. 

"My advisor hates me." 

Namjoon doesn't look up. "Did he say that?"

You sink lower into the couch, sipping your coffee slowly without forgetting to blow onto it. You can not burn your mouth again, not a chance. "No, but he looked disappointed." 

Namjoon sighs. "I know it sucks and you want to strangle him to the depths of death, but he just has high expectations from you."

You groan dramatically. "It's so annoying." 

Namjoon hums, nodding along as his eyes scan through the screen. "How's the thesis going?" 

That's when you gift him the pleasure of absolute silence. Because unfortunately, deeply unfortunately, somewhere along the way, your thesis and Wave started bleeding a little too much into each other and now everything feels way too personal and disgustingly intimate. 

Not entirely, of course. Wave is still just a tool for you to learn and observe without tracing everything back to yourself. But lately, it has started to feel a little less objective and a little more on the edge. 

You didn't lose the hang of it, not really. You're still the same girl writing with the same devotion for the same purpose. Just…there has been small slips here and there, noticeable only to people who know you well enough to search for them. 

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. "It's progressing." 

Namjoon's eyes drift towards you, and your gaze lifts until it catches his own in the air. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask when he stares at you for a second too long. 

"You don't sound too truthful." 

You scoff, then roll your eyes before grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it in his face. But being the man he is, Namjoon catches it without looking. Damn him. 

"You write about Jungkook a lot." He says suddenly. 

You shrug. "He's easy material." 

"You've written about him four times by now."

You pause, squinting your eyes as every piece of writing you've ever published in the last two years flashes through your eyes. Because there is no fucking way you've written about that tattooed excuse of sex on legs for four entire times. "Four?" 

"Four." He repeats. 

You drop your shoulders in defeat. "You're very unlikeable tonight." 

"I'm just providing you with my opinions." He says, typing while speaking. "You can't ask for help if you aren't going to take my advice." 

You pull your knees closer against your chest. "I don't ask for your opinions." 

"You called me crying over an econ elective last year." 

You sit up immediately, placing the mug onto the coffee table. "Okay, first of all, it wasn't entirely like that—" 

"I distinctly remember you saying, and i quote, what do i do now, Joon, my future is over." He states dramatically, voice disgustingly sweet and high pitched as he mocks you.

You stare at him, frozen and absolutely horrified. "I was vulnerable." 

Namjoon hums, and you let yourself fall backwards dramatically against the couch cushions, throwing an arm over your face as if that's enough to physically protect yourself from embarrassment and humiliation. 

It doesn't, of course. Because nothing ever really preserves you from embarrassment when it's Kim Namjoon you're talking about.

A comfortable silence settles into the living room, allowing you drown yourself inside the small indicators of life around you. You can hear his keyboard clicking softly as he keeps working on something you have no idea about, the occasional scratch of the ceramic mug against the wood table, the faint jazz pieces playing from the speakers hidden somewhere further inside the apartment. And just as you were about to part your lips and make a comment on how his furniture is so outdated, he beats you to it.

"Oh." 

Your arm slowly lowers from your face, eyes squinting and peaking above it. "What?" 

"Are you still helping Mark with that project?" 

Oh yourself.

Everything in you physically stills, slowly and painfully, like dread is begging to be felt properly until your bones ache and sizzle with the weight of it. Because you— catastrophically, miserably, terribly; had forgotten all about it. Not in a small, oops, i should probably text him back way either. No, you had forgotten in a way that bordered on a severe case of friendship betrayal and negligence. 

You close your eyes, inhaling a long breath. "Hypothetically speaking…" 

Namjoon finally looks up. "You forgot, didn't you?"

You did, and of course he notices. Because if Kim Namjoon has spent four years studying journalism, he has spent six studying you.

Namjoon had become one of those people that had entered your life quietly yet stayed just as loudly, making himself impossible to imagine a life without in absolutely no time. Just like wine or Wave or the concerning amount of mediocre sex you've been having since your last boyfriend. 

You had met him during the first few weeks of your freshman year when he was already a junior and head editor of the university journal. Back then, he existed in your head less as a person and more as a terrifying academic urban legend you'd never admit looking up to. But you didn't have to admit it out loud, because even the older students spoke about him with an obnoxious amount of respect.

You hated him. 

But obviously, that didn't last long. As you kept sharing nights filled with stories, words and worlds no one knew existed besides the two of you, he started to matter. He'd remembered your exam dates, bought you coffee during finals, edited your essays at three in the morning. He'd answer your phone calls involving emotional breakdowns over electives and boys and broken sink pipes, then solve whatever crisis you were having in little to no time. 

So naturally, somewhere along the way, your editor had turned into an older brother and became annoyingly good at reading you— so much that you're sure he keeps a version of you that's all bare and vulnerable somewhere hidden in his furthest drawers.

Because he knows you. Good enough to notice the tiny moments where Wave feels a little too personal. To notice the way that sometimes, your thesis blurs into the rest of your life and you get caught up in the gravity of it all, so much that the project you'd promised to help with weeks ago somehow slips away from your mind despite Mark being one of your dearest friends. 

Because Namjoon doesn't forget, and Mark will definitely kill you if you don't show up at his studio with breakfast and two cups coffee by tomorrow morning. 

Musicians who are brave enough to lay their souls open between rhymes and harmonies have always felt intimate.

Music is vulnerable, always has been. Everyone knows that. But there is something utterly naked and personal beyond the in reach vulnerability of it all. 

It's the little things.

The version of them that existed on a random Tuesday in October, the argument they never really recovered from yet still shaped them into whoever they are today. The person they almost loved, the one they did love…They leave pieces of themselves behind between late nights and early mornings, and it never matters whether it's accidental or not. Because everything they touch transitions into something that carries their traces and that's enough to feel their souls on top of your own.

And, i think, that truly sums up Mark Lee as a person. 

Because Mark has always felt like someone composed of the little things. He'd attach songs to memories you won't realize matters until months later, respond to texts even if it wakes him up from his sweetest dreams. He'd turn feelings into poems and records then archive them in anything that's permanent. 

In college, people tend to think popularity belongs to the loudest person in the room. But despite being loved through the depths of the ocean until the very end of Milky Way, Mark Lee has never really been loud.

Just unforgettable. 

Three days later, you find yourself standing outside of Mark's studio with two iced coffees in one hand and a kind of resentment that's loud yet entirely unserious in the other. Because Mark has spent the last forty eight hours guilt tripping you through frantic phone calls and dramatic text messages. And you, for some reason, can not for the life of you bring yourself accept the fact that you've forgotten your promise and properly apologize.

At least you got the coffees. 

You push the studio door open without knocking, because Mark has never once respected your privacy and therefore doesn't exactly deserve it in return. As the door falls unleashed and sunlight spills until it drapes over you in a golden glow, there are a few things you expect. A Justin Bieber song Justin Bieber himself has probably forgotten about, unfinished coffees and half empty beer bottles scattered around the room, maybe even his ex girlfriend lounging somewhere in the corner because you're almost entirely certain Mark would slip straight back into her heart if she ever left it even slightly open. 

But Jeon Jungkook is not one of them.

He's sitting besides the mixing desk, leaned back comfortably in his chair wearing a black hoodie with headphones hanging around his neck, one leg bouncing lazily beneath the table while he scrolls through something on his phone.

He looks up from the screen when the weight of your presence becomes impossible to ignore. He blinks once, twice, then smiles. 

Shit, he has dimples.

"Well," Jungkook says slowly, leaning back further into the chair as he drags his eyes over you. "This just got better than i expected." 

Your reply comes immediately. "No." 

Jungkook blinks, eyes widening just slightly. "I…didn't even say anything." 

"You thought of it." 

He cocks a brow. "Thought of what?" 

You roll your eyes, dropping your purse onto the table before leaning your hip against it. "You know what." You say, and he silently stares at you for a second longer before the corner of his mouth starts twitching. 

This doesn't make sense. Not at all. 

Because certain people feel attached to certain places long before they step into them. Mark belongs in studios and beneath the stars and somewhere right in the middle of your heart. Namjoon belongs beneath the warmth of yellow kitchen lights and homes that silence everything else until it's quieter than the rest of the world. Miyeon belongs anywhere between flowers and pretty cafes that somehow never match up to her beauty. 

And Jungkook…Jungkook belongs beneath flashing lights that paint his features in colors that would look good on nobody but him. He belongs in crowded spaces and with girls who lean in a little too close whenever he speaks. He belongs anywhere loud and alive.

Just not here. Because music feels too intimate for him somehow. 

"You know." He says after a moment, still smiling. "I thought there was a chance i imagined you." 

You let out a low chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest after placing the coffees onto the table. "That's a little dramatic." 

"I'm being dead serious." 

"Well, you approached me." You say, tilting your head slightly, letting your eyes drift over him before they return back to his face. "And you don't seem to have that strong of an imagination."

"You're mean."

You groan playfully, leaning your hip against the armrest of his chair. "That's so not true." 

A small smirk plays out on his lips. "Good thing i like my girls with a little attitude." 

Pardon? Your girls?

"You're being very brave today." 

Jungkook stares at you for a second, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in a way that's not rude, just playful enough to carry traces of something cocky beneath it. He lets the silence melt and sit right in the middle of your bodies for a beat too long, then speaks.

"You're flirting with me right now." 

Your head snaps towards him immediately, and you almost choke on your own saliva. Not because you're shocked. How can you be when he has built a whole persona on candied words and pretty girls and an ego that's definitely bigger than what's between his legs. It's because he says it so easily, and you hate that. 

So no, absolutely not. You, flirting with Jungkook? No way in hell. 

You narrow your eyes. "No, I'm not." 

"Mhm." He hums, swinging left and right in his seat with a growing grin on his face. 

Okay, no. That's enough. You're not doing this any longer. You don't want Jeon fucking Jungkook to think he has a chance at having you naked and open and wide on his stupid iron man mattress. You don't want to demonstrate the size of his cock with your hands when Miyeon asks on girls night, and you most definitely don't want Mark walking in on you bickering like two horny teenagers with the self control of fucking rabbits in heat. 

So you change the subject. 

"You sing?" Brilliant. 

And peculiarly, his smile softens a little at your question. Not drastically, not enough for the entire room to shift and bend around him until it's his breath only you're drowning inside. But it's enough. Enough for you to notice the way something gentler briefly peeks through before hiding again. And you, for some reason, find yourself reaching over and folding it carefully to hide somewhere safe amongst all the other precious details people accidentally leave behind. Somewhere only you carry the map of and know how to find again. 

Jungkook glances up. "Sometimes." 

Sometimes. 

It's funny how he says it, like it matters too much that his tongue can not carry the weight of it, so he just shrugs it off like it's anything. Sometimes, he says. As if Mark would ever involve someone who does it just whenever. As if Mark would ever reach for something that's sitting right in middle of his soul and hand out a piece of it to just anyone. 

"You look judgemental." He adds.

You shrug. "I'm just surprised." 

Jungkook's eyebrows lift at your answer, like he knows there is another thought sitting beneath it, quietly waiting for the permission to exit. But before he can get the chance to ask about it further, the studio door suddenly swings open. 

Mark walks into the room with an amount of rush that should be concerning for this time of the morning. His hair is messy, bag is tucked beneath his arm and an iced americano is trying to balance clumsily between his fingers as he tries finding a place to squeeze himself in.

"Okay, first of all. Traffic should be considered the worse case of masochism the human kind has done to itself." Mark rambles, barely waiting for the door to close behind him before speaking, words tumbling out of his mouth in consecutive complaints. 

"And you," He kicks the door shut with his foot before continuing, pointing a finger at you. "After forty eight hours of emotional neglect, show up with iced lattes? I don't drink lattes. That's for pussies who don't understand coffee." 

You roll your eyes. "I do something nice and you still complain." 

"You completely forgot me and brought coffee out of guilt."

You pause, looking down at the table before speaking again. "It's still coffee."

Jungkook laughs quietly besides you before Mark cuts in again. "Okay, so basically," He breathes, gesturing around the room. "This is my senior project, the one I told you about three weeks ago and you forgot because you apparently don't care about me anymore. It's a short film of my album with a narrative concept." He turns to Jungkook. "He's singing." 

Your eyes drift around in silence, taking in the headphones and the sheets filled with lyrics and the fucking sometimes he threw at you as if it meant nothing.

"And you," Mark angles his body towards you. "Are helping with the writing." 

"Mark," You argue, because what can you possibly be writing? Music? You don't do music. You write people, you write anything between stories and analysis but not music.

"Don't Mark me right now. You agreed to this weeks ago." He says as he rolls his eyes, chugging down his coffee. "The story. You're writing the narrative and the emotional structure, obviously."

Oh. Right. 

Because of course Mark wouldn't just make music. No, he has always been incapable of touching one art form without dragging five others to it. Because Mark Lee is a man of passion and he won't do anything without making it entirely his. 

"Apparently you said music without context feels lonely to Yoongi's trap arrangement last week." Jungkook says without really looking at you, swinging mindlessly in his chair. 

Your head snaps towards him. "How do you know that?"

Jungkook blinks once, like he hadn't expected to say that out loud yet did anyway. His eyes flicker between you and Mark before he collects himself back together and shrugs casually. "Mark talks about you." 

That's…annoyingly sweet of him. 

"You talk about me?" You coo with a voice disgustingly candied, head tilted as you reach for Mark's arm. 

"Oh my god." Mark groans dramatically, but he doesn't pull his arm away. "No, because Jungkook, don't let her fool you. She acts all nice and sweet then suddenly you're buying her food and driving her to places." 

You open your mouth immediately, ready to defend yourself. You turn towards Jungkook, response already on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spilled— only to stop.

Because Jungkook is already looking at you. Not in a weird way, not in the way boys usually look at pretty girls when they think nobody is noticing. Just…gentle. His smile is still there, only now it has grown and molded into something smaller. The kind that doesn't really ask for attention, the kind that simply stays there because it wants to. His eyes feel softer too, like's he's really listening, sitting through the spaces of your presence until he feels it permanently engraved into his mind.

It feels a little precarious. 

And perhaps the most annoying thing about Jungkook is that the disappointment never really arrives.

Because eventually, the conversation shifts and folds itself until time starts passing in a kind of haziness where it melts into something thinner. Mark disappears into one of his passionate spirals regarding symbolism and the basics of music theory and you somehow find a way to contribute just as passionately despite not exactly having the qualifications to do so. 

That's normal. That doesn't surprise you, it has happened enough times to not be the slightest of a deal. But Jungkook, Jungkook surprises you. 

Maybe not dramatically, maybe not in ways worth writing Wave articles about. It's the little things, tiny things that somehow fill in the entire space and make their way into the dearest corners of your heart. 

Like how he listens with his entire body, the way he turns towards whoever it is that's speaking and stays there, like he genuinely thinks people deserve to be heard all the way through. The way he never interrupts Mark despite the fact that Mark tends to over explain things as if he himself personally invented art and human emotion. The way he nods along quietly, asks questions at exactly the right moments without ever interjecting anyone and reaches over to hand you your drink when you start looking for it. 

And somewhere in the middle of the complexity of it all, Jungkook sings. 

Mark points towards the recording booth in the middle of his nth rant today, and Jungkook pushes himself up from the couch besides you with a small sigh before disappearing behind the glass doors of the booth. And for some reason, your eyes follow him through each passing second, because simply standing behind a microphone with overhead headphones should not look this different on somebody. 

Because suddenly, he's stripped out of everything you've subconsciously built for him. And for some stupid, sick, twisted reason, Jungkook looks ridiculously hot like this. 

He adjusts the headphones over his ears before leaning towards the microphone slightly, eyes lowering as Mark presses something on the screen. 

His voice happens a beat of two after the music starts, and it happens big. Like waves crashing into rocks, like starts falling down the sky, like spring melting into summer and summer clashing against fall. 

It's stupid. 

He's not bad, god, you wish he was bad. No, not at all. Because Jungkook sings exactly the way the listens. Softly, fully, like he throws himself into it before realizing he's doing it. Like somewhere in the middle of every rhyme and every note and every breath, there are pieces of him patiently waiting to be discovered. 

You understand why Mark chose him. 

Jungkook drops beside you onto the couch with a tired groan after Mark decides he's poured enough of his soul for today, and you find your eyes grazing over him as he scrolls through something on his phone. 

"You're staring." Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone.

You blink. Fuck. "Excuse me?" 

He hums, lips twitching beyond his control. "Mhm." 

You angle your body a little more towards him. "I literally wasn't." 

He nods, still not looking at you, but he's still smiling. 

You stare at his profile for a little longer as Mark works over the keyboard in silence, then find the words escaping your mouth before you can hold them in. "You sound different when you sing." You say quietly. 

Jungkook stills a little. Just a tiny, little falter that happens in his body. His eyes lift slowly from the screen, then catch yours before speaking. "Different?" He asks.

You shrug immediately, trying to fold the conversation into something drastically more casual. "Just less annoying." 

Jungkook laughs, shoulders shaking beside you. "Less annoying." He repeats, grin growing. 

You roll your eyes immediately. "Don't let it get to your head." 

"You know," He says after letting a beat pass, and you turn your head back towards him. "You say very mean things for someone who can't seem to stop staring." 

Your brows lift in offense. "I do not stare." 

He blinks. "You do." 

You scoff. "You're delusional." 

Jungkook hums softly. "Earlier, when Mark was talking—" 

You don't let him speak. At least, you try. "No."

"And then when i was recording—" 

"Jeon." 

He's fully smiling now, like he's getting the most ridiculous amount enjoyment he possibly can get from this. You stare at him in silence, lips parted and expression faltered. Jungkook stares right back at you, that stupid smile never really leaving from his lips. And for some sick and twisted reason, your stomach does a tiny little flip that irritates you through the entirety of your skin and bones. 

Then, as if god has finally acknowledged the depths of your suffering, Mark cuts in exactly at the right time. "Oh my god." He gasps. 

Jungkook blinks from next to you, gaze drifting onto him. "What?" 

Mark doesn't respond for a moment, and that's deeply concerning for a man who'd speak even at the verge of death.

You slowly sit up. "Mark?" 

His frozen state continues for a beat longer before he suddenly springs up from his chair. "No no no." 

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks as his brows pull together, leaning onto his knees. 

"I," Mark starts, looking down at his feet before he slowly, dreadfully searches for your eyes. "I'm late." 

Jungkook scrunches his nose. "You're late for what?"

Your eyes widen when the realization slowly stretches then breaks through you. "Oh my god." You breathe dramatically. 

"Stop saying oh my god!" Jungkook snaps, thoroughly lost. 

Mark closes his eyes, taking in a long, guilty breath. "I'm supposed to be meeting up with Yerin." 

Jungkook's phone falls onto the couch. "You're meeting your ex?"

"You're late to meeting your ex." You correct. "And you're wearing that?"

Mark looks down, eyes taking in the gray sweatpants and the black hoodie he has worn so much it's practically another color now. "Oh my god." 

He quickly gathers up his belongings, then slings his bag over his shoulder before making his way to the door. He's able to take approximately three steps before he suddenly stops, and slowly, very slowly, turns to you.

"Can i take your car?" 

You blink a few times before responding. "Absolutely not." 

"Please," He begs, bending above his knees with impatience. "Please, I'll do anything. Imagine if she thinks i stood her up. She's going to leave me for good this time and I'll be left to crumble and die in my own sorrow." 

After two or five separate sequences of long inhales and deep consideration, you give in. "If you scratch it, I'll kill you."

He runs over to you fast. "Thank you, thank you. Oh my god, i love you." 

"Okay, okay. Stop." Before you even get the chance to return his hug, he's already grabbing your keys and shoving it into his bag. Jungkook stares from besides you silently until the very last second of Mark's departure, then bursts into laughter the moment the door closes shut. 

"Stop." 

"I'm trying." Jungkook says between fractions of laughter. 

You sigh. "No you're not." 

"I'm literally trying my hardest." 

Liar.

Because now, he's laughing properly and somehow it's the prettiest thing you've heard all week, minus his singing— which is a whole another problem of its own— and you feel yourself physically falter at the sound of it. 

You stare at him for a minute longer before eventually drifting your eyes towards the studio doors instead. It's irritating how you're now painfully aware of everything else all over again. Spring air brushing softly against your skin through the window, the distant sound of laughter and conversation somewhere across campus, the way Jungkook is seated close enough that if you shift half an inch closer your shoulders would probably brush. 

"So," Jungkook has finally, and thankfully, stopped laughing. Though the smile is still sitting there loosely. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, swinging them around his finger. "Guess I'm driving you home." 

You were about to mindlessly give into defeat when suddenly, you remember one, tiny little detail. 

Jungkook doesn't have a car.

You breathe slowly. "You ride that stupid motorcycle." 

His brows lift immediately. "That stupid motorcycle?" 

Your lips part, then close again when he cuts you off, lips twitching cockily. "You remember."

You scoff loudly. "You spent like twenty minutes talking about it." 

"Mhm." 

"And your personality is unfortunately very loud." 

"Mhm." He hums, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he mindlessly collects his things. "You remember." He repeats with a growing grin.

"Stop saying that." You complain, following him behind through the door. 

And ten minutes later, you hate yourself. 

Genuinely.

Because now, you're standing outside beneath spring air and bright streetlights while Jungkook straddles his motorcycle like this isn't singlehandedly the worst thing that has ever happened to you. 

Because suddenly you're surrounded by things you've never considered before. Like leather jackets and silver rings and tattooed biceps you want to suffocate and die inside. 

You don't tell him that, of course. 

He glances at you over his shoulder before slipping on his helmet. "You coming?" 

There is a moment where he is met with a complete, utter silence. Because, first of all, you've never been on a motorcycle before. And second of all, there is a very physical, very obvious problem with motorcycles. 

Where the fuck are your hands supposed to go? 

Jungkook watches the way something between conflict and irritation flashes across your features, expression faltering slowly. He pauses along with you, then smiles knowingly. "You've never been on one." 

And the way he says it is absolutely stupid. Because he doesn't ask, it's not a question. He has somehow read you devastatingly well and has made a statement about it. One that is entirely correct. 

"I have not." 

"And you're scared." 

Excuse you? 

You blink. "Scared?" 

Jungkook says nothing, then places both of his legs on the sides of the vehicle as he patiently waits for you. You stare at him for long enough, then with the amount of dignity one can preserve in situations involving pussy clenching tattoos and massive biceps, you walk over. 

"Need help?" Jungkook asks as you struggle deciding how to position yourself. 

You shake your head immediately. "No." 

Lies.

Because an entire thirty seconds later, you're still trying to figure out how people get on these things without publicly humiliating themselves. 

"You know," He starts carefully, voice softer now." "I can help."

You look up slowly. "How?" 

"Come here." 

Your eyebrows pull together. "What kind of instruction is that?" 

He sighs softly, calling your name. And for some stupid reason, the way your name rolls and falls out of his mouth does something irritating to your nervous system. 

You hate that. 

Because suddenly, the air feels warmer than it did thirty minutes ago. Because suddenly, he is patiently looking at you with those pretty brown eyes of his and the space between you feels so small that the lack of distance physically blows your breath away. 

He holds a hand out towards you. "Come here." He repeats. 

You stare at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. And for reasons you will absolutely be denying later, you place your hand in his.

Jungkook's fingers close around yours immediately. Warm, firm and unreasonably effortless, as if he doesn't even think about the action twice. 

He gently guides you forward and suddenly you're standing between his arms for one devastating second too long as he explains something about where to place your foot and how to balance and honestly—

Honestly, you don't hear a single fucking word. 

Because Jungkook is standing too close. Because his voice is low and his presence is warm. Because somewhere above you, he quietly lets out that sweet laugh again and you think that's the exact moment you realize this might be becoming a bigger problem than you ever thought. 

"You listening?" He asks. 

No, you're not. Not even a little.

Some men are just plain irritating.

The kind of men who make you think you're special after two dates. The kind of men who act as if their love and desire for you is past the lethal dose, long sitting far away from what's acceptable after taking you out for one drink. 

They start remembering your birthday, then your coffee order, and then the stories you tell absentmindedly. They pay attention in all the ways that matter until suddenly, they don't. 

They start disappearing slowly. Late responses transition into cancelled dates and cancelled dates drag over white lies and empty promises. And before you know it— they're gone. 

Some people become memories and some people insist on staying as habits. Unfortunately for Kim Yugyeom, habits are significantly harder to quit.

Campus looks a little prettier at night, with string lights tangled carelessly around trees to soften the sharp corners of concrete sidewalks and buildings that usually look painfully monotone and disgustingly gray beneath daylight. Music that's floating around blends into laughter and conversations until everything feels like it's dipped into something warmer, casting the green scenery in a dimly golden hue.

People become prettier at night too. Like darkness reaches over to soften and hide all the sharp edges daylight stubbornly insists on exposing. You think it has something to do with poor lighting and the desire to dress each other up in a way that's aligned with our own fucked up fantasies, but that doesn't change the fact that you'd much rather time stops at nine in the evening instead of morning.

Miyeon walks beside you with a cup of vodka and something fruity in her hand, complaining passionately about one of her professors as if he has something personal against her and is failing her out of spite. When, in reality, she has been way too caught up in toxic ex boyfriend drama and seasonal depression.

Anyone who says spring depression is not real is lying. Because your best friend has been going through one for the entirety of march and april and may and you're not sure if it'll pass by july.

But it's fine. You love her and Mark loves her and you're sure she will be fine. Yeah, maybe Yugyeom is six feet tall with a face carefully structured by the higher powers above us. But he's utterly stupid and completely undeserving of the crazy stupid love provided by your gorgeous best friend.

"No because explain to me why participation counts in my grade." Miyeon complains beside you, taking another sip of her drink as if she has the attendance and exam results to cover up the mess caused by her miserable participation grade. 

You blink. "Because participating matters?" 

Miyeon stops walking like you've offended her beyond all measure, then turns to you very slowly. "The institution has corrupted you." 

You let out a laugh immediately, shoulder bumping against hers as the crowd thickens around you. "Maybe your GPA is a little important and passing isn't always enough." You add with a playful smile. 

"You've changed." 

"Okay." You drag out the word until she physically can not hear anything after the o.

"Namjoon did this to you. You were fun and sexy until junior year and now you're a disgusting hard copy of that man." 

You scoff. "Leave Namjoon out of this." 

Instead of responding to you, Miyeon narrows her eyes through the crowd before you can properly defend both yourself and Namjoon's imaginary honor. Your eyes follow her line of sight without thinking too much of it, and you still just a second after Miyeon does. 

Because standing near one of the food trucks with drinks sat carelessly in their hands are Mingyu and Jaehyun. But that's not the point, Mingyu and Jaehyun are fine, you've actually shared that infamous econ elective with Jaehyun during junior year and he surprisingly turned out to be sweet and worth a couple hours of your precious time. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, is not ideal. But not ideal is also fine, you can bear with non ideal to an extent. What's thoroughly, completely, utterly impossible, is Yugyeom.

God truly does not love you. 

Miyeon physically freezes besides you. And, I repeat, she doesn't subtly falter. She stills. 

Then, Jungkook looks up at exactly the wrong moment, finding your eyes and catching them in air before anyone else gets the chance to steal them away. His eyebrows lift slightly in amusement before a smile slowly spreads across his face, and it feels a little concerning the way he does it. Because Jungkook smiles like he means it. Like the smile happens to him before he can realize and reconsider. 

His line of sight is followed before any of you can do anything about it. It starts with Mingyu, then Jaehyun. Which is fine, because we've already established that Mingyu and Jaehyun are harmless. 

But Yugyeom? Not even close. 

"Oh no." Mingyu says the moment he spots you. And honestly? Very fair reaction. 

Because unfortunately, Kim Yugyeom has always had an exceptional talent for creating versions of Miyeon you hate. 

Jaehyun lifts his drink awkwardly. "Hi?" Very brave of him. Very brave.

Miyeon smiles immediately, too animated and too polite, before you can even think of interfering and softening the impact of it all. 

"Hi Jaehyun." She says, tone too normal despite the situation.

"Miyeon," Yugyeom greets, voice casual and light like her name belongs naturally inside his mouth. Fucking hypocrite.

"You cut your hair." 

No.

No, you're not doing this right now. Absolutely not. Because, okay, first of all, what kind of thing is that to say to your ex girlfriend of two whole years? And the worse part of it all? Miyeon cut her hair three months ago. Three, entire, months.

Yugyeom blinks one whole minute after the words leave his mouth when no one responds to him, like the sentence leaves his mouth and arrives back to him sixty seconds later. But it's already late for realization. Too fucking late. 

A long silence passes, and you feel it physically sizzle and slice right through the surface of your skin. "Right." Miyeon mutters a beat later, and you close your eyes with a long, suffering inhale. 

Somewhere in the middle of the discomfort settling over everybody like a layer of second skin, you catch movement from the corner of your eye as if the situation isn't terrible enough. 

Jungkook, of course, is already looking at you. Because he seems to have made it into a habit. 

Miyeon laughs beside you. "Three months, by the way." 

Yugyeom falters. "What?" 

"My hair," She starts, letting her eyes drag over him. "I cut it three months ago." 

It's a little funny now. You know, the entirety of the situation. You do everything in your power to not stare at the two of them, gaze drifting around your surroundings instead. And it turns out that you, as of right now, are not the smartest person in the room. Because across from you, Mingyu suddenly becomes deeply interested in the swirl of his drink, and Jaehyun seems to be counting the birds in the sky. Jungkook? That, you don't know. Because you're sure he's still looking at you and that's the second thing your eyes are trying to avoid. 

"Right." Yugyeom says again, like saying right enough times might eventually make the situation right, even though it won't. Because none of you are stupid— well, except for Yugyeom himself, it seems. 

Then, Mingyu suddenly claps his hands once, and the sound echoes so much louder than he intended it to. "Okay!" He exclaims with an amount of enthusiasm that should genuinely award him an Emmy. "Amazing! Love this energy. It's so deeply casual." 

Miyeon laughs again, a little softer than the one she let escape minutes ago. It's not enough to bounce and spill and take over the atmosphere the way it usually does. But for now, it's enough to let you breathe.

"Sorry," She says through another laugh, shaking her head. "No because, you're unbelievable." 

Yugyeom squints. "What did i even do?" 

You scoff. Obviously, that's not surprising. Kim Yugyeom deserves a hundred more of those. But Mingyu and Jaehyun scoff along with you. And, oh, Jungkook too. 

Maybe society has hope after all. 

That's when you stop keeping up with their conversation, because their steps slowly get closer and closer to each other and farther and farther away from you until the volume of their voices lower down enough and exist only for the two of them.

Not that you're complaining. Not at all. You're thoroughly relieved and you do not want to hear another word of this pointless conversation.

Mingyu leans over and lowers his height next to you. "How traumatized are we?" 

You laugh, relaxing a little. "A solid eight out of ten." 

He places a hand over his chest dramatically. "Thank god." He exhales. "For a second i thought i was alone in this." 

You laugh again, and peculiarly, somewhere in the middle of cheap drinks and Mingyu defending his dignity like his life depends on it, your shoulders begin dropping one by one.

Everything softens after that.

Mingyu gets distracted after spotting somebody from one of his classes and suddenly starts passionately discussing basketball statistics with Jaehyun. Miyeon and Yugyeom slowly become figurines in your peripheral vision— still there, still existing, but further now. And somehow, Jungkook ends up right besides you. 

Maybe not intentionally, maybe not obviously— but he does. It happens in that natural way he seems to be very adamant on keeping recently. 

You become aware of him in pieces. The warmth of his shoulder besides yours, the sound of his laugh whenever Mingyu says something ridiculous, the traces of alcohol and masculine cologne in his scent whenever wind shifts in your direction…Tiny, stupid things people leave behind accidentally.

And unfortunately, you've spent your entire life collecting them. 

"You're less guarded tonight." 

You blink, then turn around slowly, eyes locking with Jungkook who is looking at you over the rim of his drink, a smile sitting loosely against his mouth.

"I'm always like this." 

Jungkook lets something between a breathy laugh and a scoff through his lips. "Liar." 

You roll your eyes. "You think you've got me all figured out." 

He shrugs. "I just pay attention to you sometimes."

Fucking flirt. 

You're only half listening to Mingyu's latest spiral on getting cheated on with a girl when Jungkook's phone vibrates against the grass. Jungkook glances down, picks the phone up, then groans when he reads whatever text that has been sent to him.

"What?" You ask.

"Mark," 

Your brows pull together in confusion. "What did he do?" 

Jungkook lets his head fall back slightly. "He forgot the hard drive at the studio." 

Jungkook stares at his phone for a beat longer, exhales, then turns towards you. "Come with me." 

And he is met with silence. Because for a moment, for a long, dreadful sixty seconds, silence surrounds you too. Music still continues behind you but it feels distant now. People laugh, lights glow, but all of it feels very far away. Solely because of the way he says it.

Because Jungkook doesn't ask. No do you want to come? No you can if you want. He just tells you to come with him as if he already knows the answer. 

You narrow your eyes, trying to play it off. "Is that confidence i'm seizing?"

"No." He says, smile growing into something gentler. "I think it's hope." 

Oh.

Jungkook pushes himself up from the grass, then extends his hand towards you. Not dramatically, not enough to create a whole deal out of it, but enough for your eyes to drop down to it automatically then back to him as if a hundred different scenarios have just flashed across your mind. 

You take his hand. 

By the time you reach the studio, you're a little warm. Not because of walking, not because of the weather, but because of something you absolutely can not say out loud. 

Jungkook pushes the door open, then lets you walk in first. Warm light spills through the room and reaches straight into your pupils the moment you step in, and you physically have to tap your thigh twice to recollect yourself back together. 

Space feels a little different when it's just the two of you. 

Jungkook walks ahead towards the mixing desk, still looking through his phone. "Mark said he left his hard drive somewhere." 

You hum, eyes drifting around. But it all feels absent, a little pointless. Because you're painfully aware of the tiny things all over again. Jungkook pushing his sleeves up, the way strands of hair falls into his eyes, how the sound of his voice fills in the empty room…

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's exhaustion, or maybe it's the way spring nights make people a little delirious. Stupid pollens.

You let a quiet breath escape and turn away before your brain decides to become any more humiliating than it already has tonight. "How does a music major forget a hard drive?" You ask, voice bouncing a little too loudly through the empty studio.

Jungkook shrugs. "It's Mark." 

Fair.

You snort quietly and drift towards the couch instead, letting yourself drop against the cushions while Jungkook continues opening drawers and moving papers around an unnecessary amount of concentration. 

For a minute, for the short time being, neither of you says anything. And maybe that's your first mistake. Because lately, silence with Jungkook has become as dangerous as vodka on an empty stomach.

Your eyes lift before you can stop them. That's definitely your second mistake. 

Because Jungkook had pushed his sleeves higher at some point and now his forearms are exposed beneath the dim lights of the studio and you miserably need those long, tattooed fingers curling inside your pussy. 

He crouches beside the desk, pushing his hair back before another strand immediately falls over his forehead again. "Found it." He says, and your head snaps back up.

Jungkook, unfortunately, is already looking at you. Not at the hard drive, not at the desk, just you. And for a second, neither of you says anything. Because maybe this is one of those moments where silence becomes too delicate for words. Moments that sit so carefully between people that speaking feels like touching glass with bare hands.

Your stomach tightens embarrassingly beneath your ribs as Jungkook's eyes drag all over you before they settle and stay on your face. He takes a step closer, then another, and then speaks softly. "What?"

Your brows pull together despite yourself. "What what?"

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You keep staring." He says, voice lower now. 

"And you don't?" You reply, voice barely above a whisper as you rise up to your feet. 

"I do." Jungkook replies. There is barely an inch between your bodies now, his breath hot and heavy on your skin. "But i don't lie about it, pretty girl." 

Your entire body stiffens at that. But it's not the pretty girl, not at all. It's the way he says it. Because Jungkook doesn't rush you, he never does. He doesn't smirk, doesn't tease. Just stays there looking and waiting. Like he is giving you room, like stepping away is still an option. 

And the worst part is, you don't want to step away. 

Silence stretches and stretches until it begins feeling alive. His eyes drop down to your lips, then lifts back up. For one devastating second, Jungkook looks at you like he is trying to memorize something. Like he's collecting little things too. 

His hand lifts, thumb softly tracing over the line of your jaw. "I've been patient for so long." He speaks over your lips. "And i know you feel it too. But i need to hear your words if you really want this to happen." 

Your breath catches and flips over halfway through your throat, chest rising and falling in a slow, heavy rhythm. "Jungkook," 

"Tell me," He starts, thumb stopping by the bottom of your lip. "If you want me as bad as i want you. Because— fuck, I've been good, i've been patient but i'm terribly desperate and i need to know if you are too."

"Please," You try, but you've already stopped thinking altogether. 

"Please what, baby? I need you to use your words."

"Kiss me." You fit the entire weight of those words in a tiny little breath and Jungkook's lips are on yours in an instant. 

The kiss starts out slow, his lips moving against yours gently as if he is savoring every ounce of its taste on the farthest corners of his tongue. Your hands find the nape of his neck, pulling and pressing him closer until distance can't bear existing anymore. 

Jungkook's hands drop down to your waist, tugging you closer so that your hips clash against his. You whimper into his mouth, and he swallows it without wasting a single second. 

Because Jungkook has been waiting.

This isn't what the does, not at all. Jungkook has never been a patient man. Not with desire, not with girls. He takes and gets taken in blinks and fractions and seconds— easy, casual, weightless. 

But you, you've turned into something devastatingly different. Because for weeks now Jungkook has been wanting without touching, looking without taking— ever since you laughed and rolled your eyes prettily at Yugyeom's party that night. He has spent nights thinking about your lips, mornings replaying the sound of your laugh and entire conversations searching for traces of hidden meanings beneath your words like a man slowly losing his goddamn mind. 

Jungkook doesn't wait. He doesn't ache over girls. He doesn't sit awake late at night remembering the way they looked at him beneath dim studio lights or think about the possibility of their hands touching his. But with you— fuck. 

With you, he has become unbearably aware of himself. You've made him patient in the cruelest way possible. Because now he notices everything and god, the pretending has been killing him. 

And now you're kissing him back as if you've been just as gone. And that thought alone is enough to fold and mold his brain into something disgustingly mushy and achingly dizzy.

"More," You moan between kisses, body practically begging for his touch. 

Jungkook's stomach flips upside down. "Yeah? Want more, pretty? Want me to touch you?" He squeezes the plump meat of your ass through your jeans, and your hips jerk into his with the feeling. 

His hands roam all over your body before stopping right at the hem of your top. His fingers fiddle with the fabric before he pulls away to look at you properly, and you give him your consent dressed up as a weak nod. 

Jungkook pulls your tank top over your head, eyes stuck on the way your boobs bounce beneath the lace of your bra with the movement. He physically, loudly, groans at the sight before plastering wet, open mouthed kisses on the soft skin. Your head falls back in pleasure, hands tangling in his soft locks. Jungkook pushes his head further into your tits before he reaches over your back and unclasps your bra in one swift motion. 

Your ass hits the armrest of the leather couch when he lowers himself to take a nipple into his mouth, fingers toying with the other. You moan in short, consecutive whimpers as his tongue laps and flickers over the hardened nub, the wetness in your panties growing and growing. 

His cups your pussy over the your jeans, fingers pressing into your core over the fabric. The pressure is utterly mind blowing because the course denim stretches and digs into you further, causing you to cry out in pleasure. 

"Touch me properly, Jungkook." You force out, desperate to feel him on your bare skin. 

Jungkook scoffs between kisses. "Greedy, aren't you?" 

He unbuttons your jeans, fondling with the zipper for a beat too long before he can unzip and get you out of it. 

He pushes your panties aside with two fingers before sliding them into you. Your cunt sucks him in immediately, already way too wet and way too impatient for any form of foreplay. 

Jungkook tilts his head to look at the way his fingers are slipping in and out of you. "Shit, pretty. Look at that. You're gripping me." 

"Jungkook," You cry out, hands curling around his biceps for support. "Need— need your cock, please." 

He lifts his eyes up to look at your face properly, then sketches and carves every line of your expression onto the deepest corners of his heart. 

He slowly pulls out his fingers, then draws circles on your swollen clit before pulling away to take off his own clothes. His shirt flies away first, and you can't help but gawk at the bare sight of his chest. Arms, shoulders, abs— you're lucky if you don't cum right then and there. 

He gives you a small, knowing chuckle before unbuckling his belt, tossing the jeans somewhere across the room along with his boxers. Your lips are parted beyond your knowledge, eyes stuck on the hardened sight of his length. 

You've never seen a cock as pretty as that.

You're not sure if you'd ever even thought a cock was pretty— because usually, to you, they're far from that. But Jungkook, god, Jungkook is so fucking pretty with a tip so pink you think you want to suckle on it like a lollipop and a length so massive you desperately want it to choke you. 

You wouldn't be mad if your cause of death had suffocated on cock written on it all uppercase in bold letters. 

And Jungkook just laughs. He fucking laughs. 

"Don't worry, pretty. It's all yours." He says, kissing your lips once more before motioning to turn over. "Now turn around and bend over for me." He adds, pushing your back lightly so that you're completely bent over with both hands gripping on the armrest of the couch. 

Jungkook drags his tip across your folds, spreading your slick all over your cunt before he slowly pushes it in. You feel his tip first, letting you adjust to the stretch as he sucks in a sharp breath at the warmth of your walls. You moan loudly when he presses half of his cock into you, fingers firming around the cushion. 

"Oh god," You breathe, uncontrollably pushing your ass higher into the air. He slams in the rest of his length at your movement, and your back arches even deeper. "Fuck, Jungkook. You're so— so big. I can't."

"You can, princess. I know you can. You'll take every inch like a good girl. Gonna make me proud, aren't you?" 

He completely slides out out slowly, and before you can whine at the emptiness Jungkook slams himself back in. You moan loudly, head empty and thoroughly dizzy. 

Jungkook starts fucking into you, one had gripping firmly onto your waist as the other toys with your nipple from the back. He is filling you up so good you're going to lose your goddamn mind. You feel so full, stretched and stuffed to the fucking brim. Your walls suck him in desperately, walls clenching and tightening around his fat cock as he pounds into you recklessly.

"Yes, fuck. Wanna be good for you." You mutter messily as his thrusts get deeper and deeper, cock twitching inside your wetness. 

"I'm close." You breathe. 

"I've got you." He says, and you hate how assuring the words sound. 

You let yourself go just as he starts playing with your clit from behind, stimulating you as you milk your juices around his cock. He helps you ride out your high, chest pressing onto your back as he plasters small, reassuring kisses on your shoulder.

You feel physically nauseous at the domesticity. 

"Switch with me." You say after coming down from your orgasm, straightening as his cock slides out of you.

Jungkook's body falters, brows pulling together. "What?"

You roll your eyes, pulling away. "Sit, Jungkook." 

Jungkook somehow obeys without another word, dropping his body onto the couch beneath you. You hold his shoulders from above, placing your legs at both sides of his hips before reaching for his cock. 

Jungkook's breath stutters when you take him into your hand, pumping him a few times before aligning him with your entrance. You slowly sink down onto his length, and you both moan simultaneously when you take every inch of his dick into your pussy. 

"Shit," He moans, your name dancing prettily on his tongue. "You're so hot." 

His fingertips dig into the soft skin of your hips, head thrown back lazily as he moans through parted lips. You bounce on his dick with every ounce of energy that's left in you, thighs aching as he twitches inside your walls. 

Jungkook lifts his head a little to properly take in the sight of your bouncing tits, nearing his high. 

"Where do you want me?" He asks, voice low and breathy. Your stomach churns at the question, nails scratching his broad shoulders. 

"You can cum inside." 

He's going to die. He is going to fucking die but at least he'll die a proud man with his cum stuffed inside you. 

And just as Jungkook was about to close his eyes and release inside you, your phone rings.

His lips part to say something, but you beat him to it. "Just shut it off." 

Jungkook's hand weakly finds your phone, pressing the close button twice without looking at it. Of course he doesn't look, he'd be insane to drift his eyes away from the way your soft, perky tits are bouncing up and down in his own hold. But the ecstasy lasts so long as fifteen seconds until your phone rings again.

Jungkook flips it over this time. The name on your phone's screen flashes right through his eyes and he feels his heart stumble and drop straight into the rock bottom of his stomach

joon <3

would love to hear what you think <3

[jenyluv]

@seokbite @mokkaccinnos @magicshop96 @raceme2hell @ynkksbb @kelsyx33 @jkgivinsleeplessnite @amimi-bts @kamiistrz @bethanyyuy @swannita @rpwprpwprpwprw @sunainasworld @somehowukook @nikkinit @babyjkookie @jksusawife

[pennyellee]

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐒𝐊𝐀𝐑

title: drakskar pairings: general!jungkook, yandere!jk x duchess/cadet f!reader  genre: fourth wing au, dark romance, arranged marriage au, smut, porn with plot, fanstasy au  word count: 16,5 K beta read: lovely @chaoticpuff17

summary: To escape an arranged political marriage to the infamous marked-one general, Jeon Jungkook, you enroll in the Riders Quadrant instead—choosing dragons and near-certain death over becoming his wife. But fate proves crueler than politics when you bond a dragon mated to his.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | fourth wing lore, sexual tension, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, explicit content, strong language, sparring training, kissiiinnngggg, messy kissing, dub-con, oral (f!receiving), brief nipple play, penetrative sex, doggy style, missionary, breeding kink, biting, creampie, second round... etc.

disclaimer: this is a Fourth Wing AU and therefore borrows lore, concepts, and certain dynamics from Rebecca Yarros’ original worldbuilding. This oneshot was inspired by chapter 22 and explores the idea of what if xaden never taught violet how to shield from the mating bond? all recognizable elements belong to their rightful owners.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Cadets enrolled in the Riders Quadrant are hereby forbidden from entering into holy matrimony while under active training and service. Any marriage contract, ceremony, or binding recognised outside military authority shall be considered null and void for the duration of enrollment. Violation of this clause is treated as a breach of Quadrant discipline and subject to command review. A rider’s allegiance belongs first to their dragon, then their wing. Marriage is not prohibited. It is deferred until survival is no longer uncertain. –ARTICLE SEVEN, SECTION TWO THE DRAGON RIDER’S CODEX

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“In my defence, your proposal was always deeply inconvenient.” You fold your arms.  A dangerous pause, you’re waiting for him to snap at you, which…he does.

“We were supposed to be married by now!”

“No, right. My apologies.” You gesture vaguely. Something dark flickers behind his eyes. He pushes off the table and begins walking toward you. His boots echo once. Twice. You hate that your body registers each step as he keeps walking.

“You crossed the parapet,” he says, like he still hasn’t fully accepted the reality of it. “Without training.”

“Yes. I made it.”

“Barely.”

“Still counts.”

He stops in front of you now, close enough that you have to tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact.

“You disappeared before dawn,” he says, voice lower now. “Left your family in chaos, your escort unconscious and half the capital convinced you’d been abducted.”

You wince. In fairness, the unconscious escort had been a regrettable necessity. Unhinged move that you’ll be apologising for later…in life.

“They’ll recover.”

“That is not the issue,” you swear you can hear his teeth grind against each other.

“No, I gathered–”

A humourless breath escapes him. For a second, he just looks at you. Not with anger, exactly. Something more exhausting. Like you have personally shortened his lifespan by several years.

“This,” he says quietly, gesturing once toward you, toward Basgiath, toward all of your terrible life choices, “was a deeply irritating move.”

“You thought enrolling here would solve your problem?” Jungkook continues in his…lecture? Preaching?

“It actually did,” you retort.

“No–” his voice is maddeningly certain. “It changed the location of your problem.”

“The Codex is clear.” You fold your arms tighter. That earns you the faintest shift in his expression. Almost amusement. Almost.

“Yes,” Jungkook says dryly. “I’ve finished this death college. I lived by the codex…sort of.”

“Then you understand the complication.”

“You seem to be under the impression that a bureaucratic clause is what was keeping this arrangement intact.”

That… is not the answer you wanted. Your stomach tightens.

“You cannot possibly mean—”

“If you wish to be here,” he cuts in, “then be here.” His tone is level. Controlled. Too controlled.

“I will not drag you from the Riders’ Quadrant because you wanted to prove a goddamn point.”

That surprises you. Enough that your guard slips, just slightly. Jungkook notices. Of course, he notices and continues.

“You crossed the parapet. You earned your place.” There’s something almost respectful in the words. Almost.

Then:

“But let’s be very clear.” His gaze sharpens, pinning you in place more effectively than any physical restraint could.

“This changes absolutely nothing.” The words land like stones. Your jaw tightens and you tighten your fists. 

“You don’t get to decide that alone anymore–”

“No,” he agrees, infuriatingly calm. “But you do not get to vanish into a death college and pretend I will simply… what? Move on?”

Well. When he says it like that, it sounds almost ridiculous. Which is inconvenient.

“I entered the Riders’ Quadrant,” you say, forcing steadiness into your voice, “because I–”

“Because you don’t want me? Is that it?” The interruption lands like a blade thrown with terrifying precision. He steps closer, but you don’t move back. Your lips part, but for one humiliating second, absolutely nothing comes out. 

Because of all the responses you’d prepared for this conversation—anger, threats, political manipulation, outrage—that was not one of them. Not even remotely. Jungkook watches you carefully. Not like a general assessing a cadet. Like a man waiting for an answer he actually intends to remember.

“Because Basgiath is the only place in this kingdom where my name belongs to me.” 

For the first time, something in his expression softens. Not much. Just enough to be dangerous.

“You think I don’t understand that?” That throws you. Because no, actually—you hadn’t considered that possibility. Not really when he was eager to give you his name.

Jungkook studies your face for a long moment before speaking again.

“If being a rider is what you want,” he says, quieter now, “then I’ll allow this.”

“How generous of you.” You bristle instantly. His mouth twitches. But his next words erase any satisfaction you might have gotten from that.

“However,” he says, “if this becomes too much for you—if you are overwhelmed, too injured, or one reckless decision away from becoming dragon food—I will remove you myself.”

“You can’t do that.” Your eyes widen at his proclamation.

“Watch me.”

“The Codex—”

“Fuck the Codex.”

The sheer bluntness of it knocks the air from your lungs. Jungkook leans in slightly, voice dropping low enough to feel less like conversation and more like a threat wrapped in velvet.

“If you thrive here, then fine. Stay. Bond a dragon. Graduate. Become the most insufferable rider Basgiath has ever produced but you will be my wife.”

“The Codex says no cadet can marry while enrolled,” you say, clinging perhaps a little too hard to the one technicality currently standing between you and total loss of autonomy.

As if a paragraph in military law is somehow stronger than the man currently looking at you, like bureaucracy is a mild inconvenience. Jungkook’s expression doesn’t so much as flicker.

“Yes–” he says.

“And eventually, you will no longer be a cadet.”

𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬: the full fic is now available on ko-fi for fairy club subscribers - 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! Only love please! ♥

until we meet again my fairies, love, p.

[ruinedchildhood]

[maladaptivejeon]

𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿(𝕡𝕥. 𝕠𝕟𝕖)

series masterlist - part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven

summary: lawyer!au where burned out attorney Jeon Jungkook starts his own barely-functioning firm and accidentally hires an even bigger problem themes: oh brother, fastest slow burn imaginable; unhinged workplace dynamics; “what is wrong with you” x “no seriously, what is wrong with you” energy; chaotic coworker ensemble; blurred professional/personal boundaries; power imbalances; questionable coping mechanisms; dark humor; emotional repression series warnings: mdni! explicit content, workplace power dynamics, toxic coping mechanisms, degradation/humiliation themes, dom/sub undertones, restraint/bondage (handcuffs etc), threesome-ish situations, feetplay, s*xual tension tied to control/instability, messy consent-adjacent dynamics, s*bstance use, dark themes intertwined with s*xual content wc: ~20k/~70k (series total) a/n: first time posting my work publicly, hope you enjoy! (edited) ~ Part One ~

Jungkook knows a genius wasted. He should, being one himself. 

He also knows, intimately, that it doesn’t equate to being unemployable. Au contraire, he thinks he hit the jackpot when she walks into his office for an interview. 

She's not perfect by any means: her resume reads like a fidget board. There is too much experience, too fast, all over the place, but she excels in whatever she tries her hand in. She just has to move off of things rather quickly it seems.

He could work with that. 

“Well, Ms. Y/L/N, what a time you’ve had since graduation…” He drifts off, eyes catching a random line in the interests section, eyes narrowing in slight disbelief, “... You’re fluent in Aramaic?”

“Uhhuh.”

“Isn’t that a dead language?”

“Yeah, officially.”

He nods, as if to convince himself that he could work with that.

“Okay, well…” he continues to nod while straightening out on his chair, still skimming the lines of the stuffed resume in front of him, the paper feeling rather dense in his hands.  

“People usually ask questions about the legal experience…” she suggests, voice similarly drifting off. She hasn’t said much since she stepped in for the interview, and he’s partially realizing that that might be his fault, but her cold, monotone voice doesn't exactly exude excitement for the position. It's a bit unnatural in such a people pleasing world.

Refreshing... But unnatural.

“Right, well, you have extensive trial experience. Complex civil. Exactly what I’m looking for.” 

“Really? Exactly what you’re looking for?”

“You sound surprised." Jungkook laughs before her straight face makes him sober up a bit. "That’s a bit concerning.” It’s Jungkook’s turn to be monotone, straight forward. 

But she doesn’t really seem to care. She stretches her lips into a small frown and shrugs her shoulders. 

“Not everyone’s cup of tea, that’s all. People prefer someone in one area. I mean, I even have criminal cases on there. You haven’t asked about that by the way.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to?”

She shrugs again. 

“Whatever. People usually do. Then, they end the interview.”

Whatever?

End the interview?!

His hands flatten on the desk as he looks back down at the resume, face comically low to inspect it. 

With some perspiration, he rereads the line: “Successfully defended against a potential death penalty verdict.”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, you probably know the case. I’d prefer not to share names. You can google it though.”

“Is this the one with the…”

“Yeah…”

“... 10 sets of toes in the back of the Wendy’s promotional food truck?”

“... that’s the one.”

He puffs out his cheeks, presses his palms against his temples for a second before slamming his hands down decisively.

She jolts a bit, lips pulled into a little grimace. 

He doesn’t exactly seem to be her cup of tea, either. Despite her disordered practice, he can tell that there is an order to everything else in her life. Her outfit is perfectly steamed and pressed. Her hair is perfectly pinned back in a half updo, not a strand out of place. Her nails are manicured. Her heels are freshly polished. 

He must look like a nightmarish storm of uncertainty to her - his suit is slightly crumpled, it’s his third day rewearing it because who cares? It’s not like anyone’s around to judge his attire, and he hasn’t had a court appearance in forever. 

But this is exactly what he needs - a legal genius who is willing to take a pay cut and a hit to their prestige because they can’t socially cut it at other firms. He needs order, he needs desperation. He thinks he’s found it. 

“You’re hired.”

She stares at him mid blink. He stares back, the smile on his face dropping. 

“You have to make an offer first… I'll be hired if I accept.”

“Right…”

“Mhm…”

“I’m trying.”

He really was, but he was incredibly out of his element. He never ever came even remotely close to the idea of running his own firm. Why would he have any need to? He was one of the best litigators in the city at one of the top firms, making millions, living the fast life - until the stress induced grand mal seizure. Then, the suicide attempt. Then, the getting chased out by people he called friends.

Then, the New York Times article exposing his firm, which he couldn’t turn down - not the chance to talk shit, and not to play a part in burning that place down. He took the chance, reveled in it, and went on a six month press junket preaching about the importance of mental health in the legal world. 

It did obviously and inevitably kind of ruin his reputation in certain circles, but in others he became a hero. And he liked it. He liked taking the underdog cases, bringing big wins, and making the impossible happen - that’s the only thing he ever liked about this job. 

He didn’t need a firm to do it - so many people believed in him. 

And yet here he was. Couldn’t even hold it together for an interview. 

“I’m really, really trying,” he whimpered with his head in his hands, exasperated as can be. 

She chuckled. He heard the ring of it - a stark contrast to the cold, unassuming voice from before. 

He kept his gaze buried, but he pictured a bright, angelic smile - messianic almost. She was here to save him and that laugh was heaven’s bells ringing. 

“Okay, fine, I accept.”

He ripped his hands down and stared at her with the widest smile he had managed in the last two years. 

He knew - he just knew - when he met a genius wasted. The resume was odd, for sure. But there was a story. 

High achieving burnt out kid with too many interests, too many hobbies - more likely undiagnosed ADHD. Naturally ends up at some big shot firm but her personality doesn’t cut it. So, she hops from firm to firm, from case to case, and ends up here because something is clearly wrong with her.

I mean, it’s the elephant in the room. 

She’s weird with eye contact - not necessarily bad at it, but not exactly appropriate about it. 

She stares off in the middle of someone speaking, stares directly at them when they’re not paying attention, unabashed. 

She’s cold, doesn’t seem to have much of a humor, nor much patience - clearly wouldn’t thrive at any team work. 

So, this is her last hope - the smallest firm she can get to that still has SOME prestige. Jungkook can credit himself with that much, at least - he has SOME prestige. He was an amazing attorney before all of the shenanigans. He was bound to be the youngest partner at his old firm.

When he finally looks at her, he smiles a little wider because her smile is just as messianic as he expected.

“I can’t pay as much as the last place, probably, but -”

“That’s fine. I don’t do this for the money.” 

He blinks - once, twice - then nods, to himself mostly. 

“Okay, interesting -”

“Not independently wealthy, I’m just okay with less. Sorry, I’m not great at expressing myself.”

He’s shocked to see a bit of color dip into her cheeks, but the small little gesture makes his heart pound for a second. Hey, maybe her personality isn’t so bad after all. First step is always recognizing the error, and she at the very least seems aware of how off putting she is.

This will be fine. This will be great.

And it is. 

To a certain extent. 

The first few months are… clumsy. 

The office is silly to say the least - it’s huge, filled with tons of offices, with only Jungkook and Y/N to fill it. 

And Y/N thinks it wise to pick the one farthest away from Jungkook. 

“I assume the secretary and the paralegal sit close by you. That would be too much noise for me.”

Jungkook stares back at her with wide saucer eyes.

She sighs back. 

“You haven’t hired…”

“I haven’t hired any…”

“Yet…”

“Yet…”

She doesn't say much, but within the week, she has two former colleagues join Jungkook’s sinking ship.

To Jungkook’s absolute delight and surprise, they were nothing like Y/N. They didn’t possess even an ounce of her antisocial tendencies - they were some of the most extraverted, well-socialized people he had ever met. High achieving too!

The secretary, Park Jimin, was from Y/N’s first firm - an extremely talented, well connected gay man who only had a two year associate's degree, but it wasn’t his scholarly achievements that got him to where he was. He had followed Y/N to every position after she left that first firm. He seemed to get things done, whatever you asked for - nothing was impossible. He knew all the hostesses in town and could book a client dinner at the hottest table at a second’s notice. He had the ear of every dry cleaner in the city, and could get a suit pressed in under fifteen minutes if need be. He answered all calls, and diverted any that Jungkook didn’t want. 

Jungkook didn’t even have to say anything. He’d just shoot a glance over at Jimin’s cubicle when his ears picked up on an octave that he didn’t want to listen to. Jimin would nod understandingly, roll his eyes a bit, before telling the other person on the line that whoops, you just missed him.

When Y/N brought him on, she very gently but matter of fact told him: “You’ll have to pay him well, but he’ll be worth it. He’s three assistants in one.”

“So, do I have to pay him like he’s three assistants in one?”

She walked away, that was a yes. 

The paralegal was a certified genius, and Jungkook had no idea why he wasn’t a lawyer. Kim Namjoon answered him when asked: “I’m obviously saving money to go to law school. Who would want to be a paralegal their entire life?”

Jungkook, with his hands in his pockets, hovering over the man’s desk, oblivious to the fact that he didn’t really like distractions or small talk, kept prodding.

“Y/N said you’ve done this for like 10 years, how haven’t you saved up yet?” 

Namjoon met Jungkook’s genuinely curious eyes with red anger. 

“Have you heard of bills?”

“Y/N said you had a pokemon card problem.”

The man would purse his lips, slam some papers down on his desk before getting up, muttering something about getting discovery to Y/N, and then he’d march down the long hall to her office, faithfully, every time. 

Every time Jungkook pissed him off, he did this, and Jungkook knew for a fact that he was just going in there to talk shit about him.

Jimin did the same thing, frequently. It was particularly noticeable because on the three occasions that Jungkook tried to dress a little more casual in the office, he was met with a flabbergasted if not disgusted Jimin, who was in Y/N’s office within minutes of the day’s first greeting.

Jungkook had to learn to stop taking wardrobe risks if he wanted to maintain his ego. 

But he kind of liked it. The ostracization, the undeserved efficiency of his employees- it really made him feel like an actual boss: an incompetent man with the necessary resources to start a business, hovering over the most competent, talented individuals money could buy.

Jungkook had also never been the odd guy out, anywhere! He didn’t just blend in or enjoy general societal acceptance. No, he was the life of the party - usually, everyone wanted to be his friend, to be around him, but these people could not be bothered. 

They treated him like this overbearing alien, and it really made Jungkook feel like he’d made it. That’s exactly how he used to feel about his old partners.

Getting used to Y/N wasn’t hard, either. She got her work done, and she did it well. She was on top of her cases, didn’t need much assistance, and generated enough of her own clients so that Jungkook didn’t have to constantly throw work her way, not that he minded. 

He liked calling her into his office, watching her drag her pretty heels down the hall, glaring at him the whole journey down, and then she’d unwillingly plop down on the guest chair with her notepad, and let him babble on about some new exciting case or client and talk about all of the amazing, sneaky, conniving ways they were going to win this one. 

She’d zone out after two minutes, staring up at the ceiling tiles. He didn’t mind - he could stare at her more openly, comfortably when she wasn’t staring back with those razor sharp irises. 

So, the trial run was perfect, ideal. They settled a couple of big cases, pocketed some handsome earnings, and Y/N managed to bring some of her oddball clients in, so there was money to be had from there, too. 

Y/N was in his office when he pitched the idea, held hostage in the armchair. 

“We should probably, ya know, celebrate this with the team. Maybe hand out some bonuses, have a little firm outing…”

She stared right at him, he diverted his gaze back down to his papers. 

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

“Do you need any input from me?”

“Well, should we?”

She shook her head. 

“You’ll mess with Jimin’s hookup schedule, and Namjoon’s girlfriend hates when he goes to after work events.”

“You know what,” he said, drawing a line for the first time since he had hired her, “you’re right. I don’t need your input…”

“I never said you didn’t need it, I asked if you needed it…”

“... And I think it’s about time we had a little firm dinner. Get to know each other a little better. I didn’t even know Namjoon had a girlfriend!”

She groaned, the tips of her ears going a little red. A rare moment of human emotion from her. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jungkook didn’t have to because contrary to Y/N’s assertions, Jimin couldn’t be more excited. 

“Oh my god, I know JUST the spot! Get ready to spend big, Mr. Jeon. Get ready.” 

Namjoon was in the same boat. 

“God, it would be nice to get away from the old lady for a night. I suggest steak!”

“No steak! We’re going to a cocktail lounge.” Jimin chimed in. Namjoon nodded along, so did Jungkook. 

Jungkook felt so accomplished telling Y/N this in her office, who looked like she had received a draft notice - two weeks away from war. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she reminded him, not breaking eye contact with her computer screen. He shrugged his shoulders and walked out with a shit eating grin, high fiveing Namjoon and Jimin (who notably grimaced and hesitated and reached for the hand sanitizer bottle after) on his way back to his office. 

And the cocktail lounge was something out of the city’s wildest dreams. A rooftop situation with a freestanding pool out by the deck, everything covered in neon lights, and there were women and men hanging from rings suspended in the ceiling, dancing around the apparatuses to melancholic, sexy jazz. 

“Great find, Jimin - you’re getting me a reservation here for my next date.” Jungkook praised, slapping a hand down onto his shoulder. Jimin immediately recoiled down to soften the hit and leaned away from his touch, dusting the spot on his sweater where there was unfortunate contact.

“Not in my job description.” He quipped back before standing in front of the trio - Y/N, miserable, Jungkook, glowing, Namjoon, already with a drink in hand. 

“They were passing them around.” He defended when Jimin complained about him starting early.

“No fret, gents, tonight goes on the company’s amex, and we pay no mind to it. Drink and eat to your heart’s content!”

Jeers sounded from Jimin and Namjoon, and Y/N obviously brewed with some distaste for being the odd one out, for once, in this group. 

Jungkook tried not to rub it into her face so much, but he revered the positive attention that Namjoon and Jimin were giving him with each round of drinks. 

“... and then, she took the coffee mug in her hand - piping hot, mind you - and dumped it on the senior associate’s head…” Jimin had been filling the night with Y/N’s old firm histories, mostly because Jungkook asked, but also because there was nothing else interesting to talk about. 

“All because he said your shirt was obnoxious?” Jungkook questioned, so incredibly entrenched in this story. 

“It’s the way he said it - it felt homophobic.” Namjoon explained, contributing to the stories only as needed to increase the dramatic effect. 

Y/N, the subject of the stories, was dead silent, slumped in the booth with her arms crossed, her heels off (which Jungkook only noticed because he was sitting right next to her, but it was pretty inconspicuous), babysitting a 40 dollar glass of wine as the boys moved onto their fifth round of liquor filled drinks. 

She adjusted her feet a little, wiggling her stocking clad toes. Jungkook wasn’t sure if it was the drinks, or something else, but he found it distracting. Every time her legs fidgeted, his gaze was on them. Smooth, sheer black stockings, his favorite - not a scratch or a loose string anywhere on them.

She always wore sheer black stockings - not exactly an office taboo, but definitely on the risque side of things. Most people went for nude ones. 

Why does Jungkook know so much about stockings? 

Who cares! Jimin is onto the next story, and another round of drinks are being ordered, and Jungkook is getting laughs out of everyone with his little jokes and comebacks, and he almost feels like he’s back in his first year associate days, where he would charm everyone around him into giving him whatever he wants.

Except he didn’t want anything right now. He didn’t need a promotion. He wasn’t trying to kiss ass to get on a case. He wasn’t trying to network, no, there was nothing transactional about this. 

And maybe it was just the attention that he had wanted all along because despite not exactly needing anything from her (other than for her to never, ever quit this job), he hated that Y/N wasn’t paying attention to him. 

He also hated that other people were, in fact, paying attention to Y/N. Almost every single 20-something that walked into the lounge, took a second to look her over in her little matching suit - a skirt and jacket set. She seemed to prefer skirts. 

He wasn’t sure what he hated about their gazes exactly, but he certainly didn’t love it. Maybe because he wasn’t receiving the same attention from the women at the bar, not that there were many of them to begin with. He could wrestle with that distaste later. For now, he focused on bonding with Jimin and Namjoon over her Y/N's antisocial antics. 

“So, did they fire her after that?” he asked, eyes wide and ears listening intently. 

Y/N scoffed, the most noise she’d made all night. She then took an actual healthy sip of the red wine in her hand. 

“As if,” Jimin confirmed, laying a hand on her stocking clad thigh. Her skirt had ridden up. Jungkook stared. “They fired him. Then, Y/N quit because she felt like that was unfair.”

“Huh?” Jungkook struggled to follow.

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“I did what I did so that they would fire me. I was disgusted when they didn’t.”

Jungkook stared at the side of her face in utter confusion, trying to follow the logic. 

“He was being homophobic?” He asked, again, to see if he had understood the dilemma.

“Yes, yes, but the principle there being, can’t the guy be passively rude to a gay person without having hot coffee dumped on him and then getting fired for it?” Namjoon tried to explain. 

“Sure, sure, but why is the…” Jungkook waved his hands around as he tried to put together his question “principle, or whatever, being perpetrated by the very woman that dumped the coffee on him? Shouldn’t she just have not dumped the coffee on him?”

“Well, no, you see,” Jimin took up the mic to further explain the situation, “Y/N’s morality changes from individual to organized entity. So, there are things individuals can do - like throw coffee at someone who insults their friend -”

Y/N scoffed again, but Jimin ignored her. 

“ - but a workplace shouldn’t do that. Workplaces shouldn’t throw scalding liquid on you for having different opinions, or just a general dislike for someone.”

Y/N nodded, she approved.

“Does she like… lecture you guys on this stuff?” he asked, looking around the booth. “Is this what you guys do when you meet in her office?!”

“I guess,” Namjoon pondered, looking over at Y/N who looked like she was on the verge of sleep. “I guess it’s something that was built over time. She’s a little peculiar, so you have to try and understand her if you want to stand her.”

“And if you’re her assistant or paralegal, you don’t have a choice.” Jimin added.

“So, over time, through little explanations here and there, we built, what we like to call, our Y/N handbook.” Namjoon proudly announced. 

Y/N made the most noise she’s made all evening when she finally huffed out and slammed the wine glass down on the little table in front of their booth. 

“Enough! Stop talking about me!”

Just in time for her sudden animation, one of those 20-somethings with a wandering eye stopped by the table, hip leaning to one side, and words a little slurred, he said directly to Y/N: 

“S-sorry to bother, really don’t mean to disrupt, but my friend was wondering if he could get you a drink. He thinks you look -”

Before the young chap could finish that thought, Y/N had already lifted the wine glass back off the table, stood on her bare feet and splashed the liquid remaining in it directly at the poor kid. 

He stood there stunned, and so did Jungkook, feeling some of the wine land directly on his cheek. He walked away within a millisecond, muttering something about crazy bitch, and who could blame him!?

Y/N, unphased, put her shoes back, grabbed her purse, and looked back at the trio - Jimin and Namjoon sitting there, looking apologetic for their overlord’s unforgiving nature, and Jungkook, in awe, fear and query. 

“Two hours are up. I’m going home.”

“Let me call a cab.” Jungkook offered. 

“She prefers the subway!” Namjoon and Jimin chimed at the same time before falling into a fit of laughter. 

She made her escape in that noise, not looking back.

—

The first real hiccup was four months in. 

Jungkook had a panic attack at the office. 

He was in the middle of holding Y/N hostage for a new case, rambling on and on about how you guys would try to go about it this way and that way, when he got a call. 

Her name flashed across the screen. A Caller ID he hadn’t seen in years at that point. 

When Jungkook said that he was betrayed by everyone after that suicide attempt, he really meant everyone. That included his ex-fiance of two years, who not only fed as many rumors about the situation as possible within the firm, but then also used that as leverage to leave him for one of the partners that had fired him. Kicked him out of the apartment via a letter. Stole all of his friends away from him. 

Thinking about her, made him think about the firm, which makes him think about the very, very public seizure he had in the middle of a meeting, which then makes him think about the subsequent weeks where he tried..

It’s enough. It’s enough to cut off his airway and to cloud his judgment with terror. His whole body suddenly, mid speech to Y/N, shuts down. His eyes go wide, his mouth shuts, and his whole face grows red. He feels his neck fatten at his collar.

“Uhh.. do you want to take that?” Y/N offers, but he can barely hear it as he heaves a breath in, hands baring against the desk, trying to cool his palms down on the surface. “Uh - okay - is everything okay?”

She asks, but there is no concern in her voice, just an impatience and a desire to remove herself from the situation. 

Usually, people panic, crowd around him, immediately try to touch him, or just express some kind of inadequate concern like: “Oh god, is he okay?? Is that normal?? How sad… What a young, broken man…”

The absence of any human concern within his immediate proximity is somewhat alleviating on the situation, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s heaving for air. 

“I’m just going to assume that it’s not,” she declares, closing the notebook in front of her before looking over her shoulder, getting ready to yell Jimin’s name to assign him to whatever this dilemma was. 

But Jungkook basically leaps over the desk to slam a hand down on her mouth, shaking his head helplessly.

“D-Don’t want -” he hiccups, drops back into his seat when he realizes she won’t yell, but he can’t explain himself, and he knows that there is no point in seeking mercy from this woman. 

But, to his shock, it’s there.

She just slowly nods, which he kind of makes out through his internal chaos, and gets up to inconspicuously close the door. Jimin and Namjoon don’t seem to stir much. She gets back to the desk, and stands by his chair, squatting in front of him. 

“Got it. They won’t know.” She whispers, a hand resting on his knee as she looks up at him.

His chest softens a bit. 

“What do you need?” She asks, face flat - no smile, no frown. No judgment. 

Jungkook thinks back to the months he spent at his parents’ house after everything went down. How he slept in their bed, his mother holding her grown son through nightmares through the night, as his father harassed the best psychiatrists in the state for an opening to take his son. To fix him. 

He just shakes his head, unsure of how to ask for that. His eyes start to tear up - he has yet to get over the feeling of there not being enough air in his lungs. 

“I’m serious, Mr. Jeon. Anything. I will only offer this once.” 

Nothing nada. He just hugs his arms around himself, exhales out a loud breath through his mouth, stammers on the inhale. 

“If there is nothing I can do, I’m just going to go back to my office.”

He can’t respond, he just closes his eyes, tries the breath thing again. 

“Why are you hugging yourself?”

The chaos stops at her observation. His eyes snap up, but the millisecond of relief is instantly gone. He just shakes his head.

“H-hold -” he can’t get it out. Shakes his head again. “Just tight-”

She nods, sits down on the floor, legs crossed since this is one of the rare days where she wore pants. She then pats her knee.

“Come on.” 

He stares at her hand, confused.

“Come down,” she insists, grabbing his arm and dragging him down to the floor. 

Jungkook is positive that Namjoon and Jimin can at the very least see his head get dragged below the frosted glass of his office walls. 

They can’t possibly think that anything appropriate is going on. 

“W-what-” he tries to mutter out, but she just taps her knee again. 

“Lay,” she instructs, and by god, he does. 

By god, he lays his head down on her knee, closes his eyes, and doesn’t question it when her hand starts stroking his hair. 

Then, she hums. 

A soft little melody, no words, but reminiscent of a lullaby. 

In no time, his breathing is back to normal. His world stops collapsing, and at the slightest sign of betterment, Y/N goes to leave, but he grabs her by the wrist, drags her hand through his hair again to signify not yet. 

She doesn’t say anything. Keeps petting his hair for another five minutes before he sits up in front of her, cheeks flushed, and skin a little less pale. 

“You do not mention this to Jimin and Namjoon.” He states.

She nods. 

“Fine by me.”

“You do not mention this to anyone.” 

“Fine.”

Silence.

“Can I leave?”

He nods, by god, does he nod…

—

The second hiccup is their first trial together. It’s a week long affair in the state capitol, and Jimin accidentally books only one room for them at the hotel. 

Y/N has a conniption at the welcome desk. 

“This is UNACCEPTABLE -”

“I’m sorry ma’am but all I have is the presidential suite, and we can book that one for you, but,” the poor clerk glances over at Jungkook, who is trying to shake his head NO at the guy as inconspicuously as he can from behind Y/N’s gaze, “once again, that would be a total cost of 35k, which is an additional 28k to your original booking.” 

Y/N immediately snaps her gaze back to Jungkook and catches him in a head shake. 

His face immediately cowers, and his features beg for mercy as her eyes boil over with anger. 

“Y/N, I still have a mortgage on my very expensive downtown ocean view condo -“ 

“Fine!” She seethes before turning back over to the clerk, who is almost pleased to see her back down. “Fine, just - two beds please?”

There is no softness in her voice when she says please and Jungkook’s hand slams over his eyes in frustration when the clerk’s smile grows even wider because well, that can’t be good. 

“So, unfortunately, the room you booked is a single bed-“

Jungkook blacks out the rest of that conversation and leaves himself with the memory of gratitude that Y/N and him were somehow able to make it out of that lobby without her committing murder.

Then, the elevator dinged onto their floor, and they found their room, and opened the door to see something one could only describe as matchbox.

“7k for 5 days for THIS?” She screeched and Jungkook just sighed as he dragged the luggage and the briefcases into the room. 

“At least there is a pool - we can use it on the recess day.” Jungkook suggested, eyes catching sight of the blue water outside of the window.

Wrong, so wrong.

Glares, no - daggers shot in his direction. 

“We are regrouping on the recess day. We will be busy.” 

“I mean, it’s a pro bono case, we’re doing the best we can, I’m sure we can take like AN HOUR -“

She held up her hand, eyes closed. 

They had driven here together, so he was more than well aware that she had already hit her tolerance on him, and OBVIOUSLY the room situation wasn’t helping. 

“There is press on this case. If we lose-“

“We’re not going to lose-“

“- which we will if we go to the pool-“

“Just because we go to the pool for ONE hour.”

“- That is the dumbest idea ever.”

Uhhhh.

Jungkook dropped the last bag he had dragged over from the cramped entry way, trying to clear their way for an exit in case a fire breaks out (or Y/N tries to strangle him in his sleep). He drops it a little rougher than the rest before he drops that goofy, apologetic look on his face along with it at the mention of the word dumb.

Y/N doesn't necessarily look scared - like a cat mid hiss - but is clearly trying to mask some sudden worry at Jungkook's attitude switch. She tries to cower it behind some of her natural, cold prowess, but he sees the goosebumps that run up her arms as Jungkook drops the overly polite act that he’s put up since she’s met him.

In the absence of that forgiving stare, he wears one that he hadn’t shown Y/N before - one that he hadn’t shown anyone before becoming a tyrannical senior associate at his last firm.

To be clear, Jungkook didn’t get to where he got to with just charm and jokes. 

Firm culture is ruthless, and you have to be clear about your place in the hierarchy - when necessary. 

Sure, he had reformed his harsher ways, but this was a step too far and it warranted this response. Even Y/N seemed to realize this, with the tiniest emblem of shame tinted in the fall of her brows. 

“Do you want to apologize for that?”

Voice low, patient.

“W-what?”

He doesn’t think he had ever heard Y/N stutter before .

“Are. You. Going. To. Apologize?”

“About what?”

“You already got two chances, Y/n.”

Her hands furled at her sides, mouth unsure of what to do. 

He didn’t push but let her sit with the silence for a moment before she gave up.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said dumb.”

He stared at her, kind of disassociating for a moment. He just could never read her. What made her cave? Was it fear of losing her job? Being taken off the case? 

Jungkook being mad at her? 

He slowly let the smile slip back into his face, a laugh masking back up the tense moment.

“Relax.” He said, waving his hand. He could tell the attitude whiplash pissed her off, but he didn’t dwell on it. 

If he was going to share a room with her, he had to accept the fact that she was going to be pissed off at him.

“You’re right, we’ll be too stressed prepping for closing on recess day.”

Y/N smiled so so slightly - she thought she won.

“But we’re all checked in, and the pool is open until 9 pm, and we have quite literally nothing to prepare right now. So let’s go-” 

“We need to run through the opening statements-“

“We can do that in the pool.”

—

It took them until 8:30 pm to make it to the pool, which seemed to justify the cost of the stay. It was stranded at this time of night and April wasn’t exactly prime time for water sports, so they were treated to a rather private experience.

It also didn’t hurt that the pool was a tad overheated, which seemed to turn Y/N’s muscles to putty after that long car ride.

She had arms crossed over the marble tile edge, legs swaying in the deep water, and head leaning on her arms as she watched the Capitol building through the trees lining the perimeters of the hotel. 

Jungkook had done a couple of laps before he noticed how still Y/N was, and he felt like he shouldn’t, but he still swam over to float next to her.

“You look cozy,” he whispered, his voice not having to extend far in the quiet night. 

Her eyes were basically half closed when she looked in his direction. 

“Mhm, the water is nice.” She murmured, cheeks squished against her arm.

He smiled a little more genuinely - unrehearsed. She just pulled it out of him. 

“You really didn’t like that roadtrip, huh?” He asked, hand leaning over to brush a hair out of her face.

She recoiled immediately, popping the pink bubble that he had painted over them in his mind.

It was something in the mist that arose between the chilly spring night and the heated pool that made him, well, warm. Cozy. Felt close. 

“S-sorry.” It was his turn to stutter.

“It’s fine. Don’t do it again.” She said, calming down and resting back into her cozy position again. It seemed to soften her because she modified her directive with: “I mean, I did it to you, too. Touch your hair. In your office. I guess it’s fine.”

He blushed.

“I said we’re never going to talk about that again.” He murmured, dipping his mouth under the water.

“You said to not tell anyone else about it. You have a terrible memory.”

Jungkook laughed, she didn’t reciprocate, so he laughed louder. 

They didn’t get kicked out of the pool until 9:30, and by then, Y/N was basically half dead, sedated by the water. She pretty much took a nap in the elevator, leaning against the wall, and crashed onto the bed with her wet pool body. 

“Y/n! We have to sleep on that bed!” Jungkook yelled, half chuckling. “Seriously, get up and shower. We start at noon tomorrow and I want to get there early.”

Y/n mumbled something, but it quickly became clear to him that she was not going to be able to get off of that bed for a hot minute, so he took the opportunity to shower first. 

He appreciated her being conked out because he needed a long shower. He hadn’t been in trial in so long, not since the seizure, not since everything. And he had to do the opening statement. 

He had always kind of hated doing those. Hated the spotlight. And now, he realized that he had always hated this feeling in his chest. This job was wrong for him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, everything is wrong -

Until-

The hot water hits his back, scalds his skin. Soothes his nerves. 

The slight pain in his sternum that’s always kind of there only ever releases in the shower. 

It’s the sweetest burn. 

He showers quickly, but he chooses to stay in the shower for much longer. In the steam, he feels like breathing is easier. 

He runs through his opening statement, acts it out in his head, feels some of his confidence comes back, and he’s borderline excited for tomorrow when the banging on the door starts. 

“Mr. Jeon, can you please get out!? It’s almost 11:00, and I need to sleep!”

She sounds beyond irritated. She also sounds like the nap did her well. He sighs, readying himself for the oncoming tension of sharing the room with her, and then steps out of the shower, closing the frosted door behind himself. 

Y/N never stops knocking, her hand hammering against the bathroom door incessantly at a metronome speed - steady, timed, irritating. 

He barely gets his towel wrapped around himself when she bursts in, over it already. 

“Y/N, Jesus fucking Christ!” he shrieks, holding onto his towel with one hand and covering his chest with the other. 

She's fuming when she walks in, disregarding him completely after a quick glare. She immediately marches into the shower and closes the door behind her and before Jungkook could even walk out, she starts stripping off her clothes and throwing out the items one by one through the opening at the top. 

First her cover up, then her bikini top, then her bottoms. 

He stares at them for a second before his eyes start drifting up towards the frosted glass of the shower door, almost unintentionally. 

He remembers the exact conversation that he had with Jimin

“Ooh, there is a pool in this one!” Jimin yelped, grabbing Jungkook by his sweater collar as he passed by Jimin’s desk. 

Jimin pulled him into stare at his computer screen, where the hotel’s main page was displayed. He had told Jimin to book the hotel for the trial, but he had also told him like ten other things that should have taken priority. 

He opened his mouth to complain, but then he saw the hotel’s name, the pictures…

“Book it. That’s a nice hotel. It’ll be nice to relieve stress after the trial, and good conference rooms.” 

Jimin laughed, “Yeah, sure. So practical. I’ll pack some bathing suits for you guys.”

Give it to Jimin, by the way, to pack Y/N’s nastiest, skimpiest bikini (or maybe it was just a normal, basic black bikini and he was a bit deprived). 

“You had the bathroom for long enough! Why are you still here!?” Y/N shrieked over the roaring water - great water pressure by the way. 

He was there because he couldn’t fathom the curve of her back, the length of her hair, down from that incessant up do. The outline of her a…..

“Get out!” 

“Right! Sorry!”

He left the bathroom dazed, confused, and anxious, and not surprisingly, with a hard on. 

This was AWFUL - she had managed to undo the entire shower in a matter of seconds, and even worse, just as he stepped out, closed the door behind him, there was a noise.

“God, you used up all of the hot water!” She shrieked again, but no amount of chastising was enough to mask the little groans and whimpers she let out under the cold water. 

He slowly walked to the bed, sat down at the edge and glared in the direction of the bathroom. 

This was… worst case scenario. 

Absolute worst case scenario. 

And, to add to the stress, he had no idea how long she was going to take in there - probably not long, given that she was being subjected to freezing water (deadly freezing, apparently, from the severity of the noises she was making). 

He had to think, and he had to think fast. He was anxious, wound up, and had a boner - all things that were going to make an already tense night worse. And sure, the hot shower felt nice, but its effects had worn off. So did his evening dose of meds. 

He knew something else that could take the edge off.

Again, this was the worst - he knew it! He knows how bad this looks, but he had to do it. You have to understand. He had to dip his hand under that towel, basically make it come undone, and wrap a hand around his rock hard member. 

It hurt to touch, truly. 

He slowly rocked his hand back and forth, eyes closed and ears focused on whatever the hell was going on in that bathroom.

Sure, it could just be her getting pneumonia under the freezing water. 

Or, or - and this is where Jungkook’s mind took him - she was leaning against the shower door, ass out and cheeks spread open for the water to wash over her pretty pussy, the cold stream making her emit those beautiful noises as her hips hovered. And her beautiful face, her cheekbones, were pressed against that wet wall, lips lightly kissing the tile, eyes scrunched, mouth open, and, and, just maybe, follow along if you can, he was behind her, lips against her ear, fingers rubbing over her hole - no, not that one - the other one, before he slowly pushes it in, making her constantly let out those lovely noises because this is exactly what her uptight, stubborn asshole needed -

He bites his knuckle as he comes into the towel. He has never gotten dressed so fast in his life. 

She’s out minutes after that, and Jungkook is more than aware that he looks like he ran a marathon. 

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, already dressed in her pajamas. She’s running a towel through her long, wet hair. 

His mind flashes for a second - wrapped around his hand, pulling at it…

“Hello?” She calls out, waving her hand in front of his face. He shakes his head. “Are you having another panic attack?”

He looks at her with a little bit of shock. Twice she had brought it up now. What was up with her?

“Because, you know, I know tomorrow is a big day and -”

His eyes squint, his ears flicker. 

“Oh my god, you sneaky little -”

She immediately leans back defensively. 

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yes, you did! You’re trying to take over the opening statement because you think I’m gonna have a panic attack!”

She stays silent but puts her hands up as if to surrender.

“Oh, you sneaky, opportunistic -”

He’s up now with a finger in her face before he realizes that he has just gotten way too close so he has no choice but to march back and sit on the bed like an idiot. 

“I was just trying to be nice. Take some of the pressure off.” she explains, sitting next to him on the bed. “You just seem really tense.”

He looks at her hand, resting maybe five inches away from his. Looks back up at her face. She’s, of course, staring off into the distance, barely paying attention. 

“I’m really okay. I’m in my element.” He says, trying to reassure her, wondering if she’s having any nerves about this. Her last trial was just before he had hired her. She can’t be that out of shape. 

“I’m just worried about you, I guess.”

The words hang heavy. They should hang heavier, but Jungkook finds it easy to force a laugh. Maybe because the idea is ludicrous - Y/N feeling things. 

“I mean it.”

“Oh, Y/N. Please, you don’t-”

“I feel things.” 

Her voice is harsh. Straight. Forceful. Almost angry. 

But it’s angry in a new way. Usually, the anger comes from frustration, from tantrums. From i-want-it-and-i-dont-have-it-why-dont-i-have-it type of feelings, but this time, it seems to come from some far off place that’s a bit foreign to her - maybe from a you-don’t-understand-me-and-that’s-frustrating-because-I-want-to-be-seen kind of way. 

He’s most certainly reading into it too much, but it would be nice to think that the body next to his was a warm one. After years of working with cold blooded snakes, he needed to find life in this crew, and he felt like he did, but this whole week seemed to be some final test of patience - a last rite of passage before he fully ascends as a wise, and above-the-stress-of-it-all lawyer. 

One that isn’t tempted to kill himself all the time. 

And he hasn’t! If his therapist is reading this, he would really like to emphasize that he has not thought about killing himself. 

But this trial, it’s just a lot, suddenly. Sure, it’s been years in the making, but that actually makes it way worse. His big debut, oh god. 

“I really don’t like sharing a bed with people.” 

Y/N - who has been great when she realizes a mental health crisis is oncoming, but doesn’t seem to be great at realizing it in the first place - is completely oblivious to this turmoil, but it’s fine because she’s made it clear that she suspects it. 

She seems to have figured him out. 

“Right, I got that,” he scoffed, “I’d prefer not to share a bed, either. I feel like I’m going to get sued.”

“I might sue Jimin,” she said, and he could have sworn that that might have been a joke. 

She dangles her feet off the ledge of the bed a bit. 

“But you have before, right? Boyfriends or whatever?” He asks, trying to move the process along because he really needs to get some sleep. 

“Once.”

Too late. Jungkook gets that dumbfounded look in his face again. He dares himself not to look at her with that expression because he knows it pisses her off, but he can’t help it. He looks at her with that dumb fucking expression because his curiosity has peaked to new levels. 

He just cannot piece her together. 

She sees that dumb expression on his face, and she’s true-to-nature immediately pissed. 

“Have you had boyfriends?” 

“I could actually sue you.” 

“Right.” He recoils, staring back at the bed. “Well, how are we going to do this?”

She lifts her feet up to rest on the edge and then she rests her hands and her chin on her knees. 

Something in his chest flutters.

“Y/N, come on, we gotta go to bed -”

She turns her head a bit curtly to look at him. 

Nothing readable in her expression. 

“Are you a little spoon or a big spoon?” 

Jungkook laughs because he knows for sure that that’s a joke. She cracks a smile too. 

They settle on setting up a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed. Separate blankets. Works well at first, until Y/N surprises him again. 

He, from a reasonable presumption, believed that she’d likely sleep like a corpse, tucked tight into her blankets. 

He’s horrified to learn that she twists and turns like a maniac. The entire night. It’s a wonder that she’s sleeping because she could easily join a WWE ring. 

Multiple times throughout the night, she knocks the pillow wall down, and it’s Jungkook who’s left feeling defiled as he tries to rebuild it along with his wavering sanity. 

He has to do his best to not take down the curtains and restrain her with them for the sake of an hour of uninterrupted sleep.

At one point, she actually fully punches him in the jaw. 

So, when they wake up, she looks like a million bucks and he looks sick, at best. 

“Amazing mattress. I’m surprised,” she commented over breakfast at the hotel restaurant. 

His fork stopped mid bite of pancakes to let him glare at her, and his jaw tightened, but she was too busy shoving too big of a chunk of honeydew past her lips to pay his anger any mind.

Her small mouth. 

His head zonked again and he damn near banged it against the table. 

Last night was hell, but he had lived to tell the tale. That’s all that mattered.

But it might also have mattered that last night changed things for him.

Okay, let’s be honest - there was something from the get go. The Aramaic maybe?? Jungkook wasn’t entirely sure. The stockings definitely played a big part, but it was like the whole package. He was intrigued by her, sure. That was manageable.

But last night - the glimpse of her body through the shower door, the way her bikini clung to her body, the way her back arched in the water… It changed things. It twisted the initial intrigue into a monster. 

A small one that he could keep at helm still, but every now and then, in moments like these, like when he watches her shove a huge fruit through her perfectly lined lips, with her distant eyes - he has to fight it. Actively.

“Okay, let’s go through it one more time.” He says, of the opening statement hanging over his head for the sake of a distraction.

“Ladies and gentleman of the jury,” she bellowed in a flat tone, both mocking him and getting him started on his monologue. 

“My name is Jeon Jungkook, and my associate and I represent the Plaintiff in this case. Today you will hear about…”

“... the story of a man. A man whose farm has fed…” she half mouths half whispers along, making his ears twitch in overstimulation.

“... hundreds of thousands of people in this state. And yet…” He tries to continue, on track with the script.

“... This state thinks it fair to lay its overreaching, greedy hand…” She continues, making an odd face as if she was trying to mimic his facial expressions, but just absolutely failing. 

His TMJ locks a bit. 

“... to take this man’s ranch from him.”

“To take this man’s ranch from him!” Jungkook scrams to beat her to the punchline, chest leaning forward on the table as his voice raises a little. 

Y/N’s chin pulls a bit in light shock and confusion as she picks up another honeydew on her fork and sideyes him. 

“Mental health check in?” She says, and he spits out his coffee mid sip. 

“Y/N, that’s it-”

“Wow, you really can’t take the pressure-”

“Cut it out!” He snaps. “Seriously, not cool. We’re a team. I’m doing the opening statement. You’re doing the closing statement. I trust you, you trust me. That’s it!”

She rolls her eyes and shrugs, sliding her hair to the side and reaching over for her own coffee. 

“Who’s Minji?” 

Silence - utter silence in his ear, and then a sudden ringing. A stable, painful ringing. His headache triples in a second, and the few bites he swallowed of his breakfast threaten to crawl back out. 

The Caller ID. The panic attack. What a nasty, fucking bitch she had to be to pull that move. 

Did she really want the opening statement that bad? I thought it was some awful joke.

She stares at him a bit more openly as she bites down on the honeydew, chewing on it slowly. 

His vision blurs, but he takes a deep breath because no, not now. Please, not now. 

He’s not sure who he’s pleading to, and it takes him another second to realize that it’s no one. 

The court room is a mere two hours away, and no one is coming to save him from this nightmare. In fact, it’ll follow him everywhere for the next five days. 

This has to be some deep, deep ring of hell. He should come out purified after this - this is a pilgrimage at this point. 

Let alone the fact that she was right, there is press for this case. Everyone will be watching, not just because of the publicity of the case itself, but because it's his debut. The legal gossip blogs will talk about it. He’ll get interviewed. 

If he survives this, he can survive anything. 

“One more word, and I’ll run this solo. You know I will.” He says curtly, curling up a piece of bacon on his fork and biting into it like an animal. 

She watches him as she nods, retreats. 

Good. 

They sit in silence as they finish their breakfast, and he’s almost got himself together when he catches sight of a few suited types heading towards their table in his periphery. 

“Who is….” He starts to ask.

“Just ignore them.”

Her gaze is suddenly more interested in her plate than it has been all morning, and the trio of suited, cologne doused, Rolex wearing assholes line up around them as if they rehearsed their entry.

Jungkook watches their faces as he lifts a napkin to his mouth and realizes that they all look very familiar. They’re all probably not too far off from his graduation year. Big shots in the city.

Great. 

“Hiya, Y/N. Heard about the little eminent domain case you got going today. With Judge Kim, too. That’s gotta suck.”

Y/N just keeps eating her honeydew. Doesn’t even seem to realize they’re there.

That prompts them to turn their attention to Jungkook.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Depression himself. You’d think a person would at least learn how to tie a rope in the three years it takes to get through law school.” 

Jungkook is almost too taken back to be offended. Like, Jesus. That’s evil. 

“But good to see the failures sweeping themselves out of our scene. You guys suit charity work way more. Leave the billion dollar deals to us.” 

But he can’t judge. He remembers, vividly, a time when he spoke to people like that. 

He almost feels bad.

He’d actually feel bad for if it weren’t for the fact that they started turning their escalation on Y/N.

“You know, though, don’t you?” The douchebag said to Jungkook. “You’re in really good company. I’m sure you’ve asked her why she leaves every single job she’s ever had after her first case, right?”

“I need you to go back to your own table-“

“Don’t tell me you haven’t asked yet! Go ahead Y/N, enlighten him on your antics!”

Jungkook slides his seat out and stands up, face composed, but body ready to get physical.

If he gets arrested for a fight, maybe they’ll delay the trial. 

“Alright, alright, the freaks are teamed up. We’ll leave.” The douchebag announced, backing up slowly as he laughed along with his friends back to their expensive reserved table. 

Y/n’s eyes were on Jungkook again, lips mindlessly wrapped around a pineapple this time as she watched him sit back down. 

She looked curious, unfazed.

“Why did you just sit there and put up with it? I thought you’d at least kick him or something.” He grumbled out, shoving some of his omelette into his mouth.

She didn’t say anything, just watched him eat.

He was cutting up his bacon when she finally spoke again. 

“Can I have a bite?”

He choked. Looked at the bacon, back at her with a look that read Are you serious? 

He lifted the bacon towards her. 

“This?”

She nodded.

But before he could even fully confirm, she was out of her seat and her lips were wrapped around his fork, eyes blaring into his as she ate the bite. 

He didn’t retreat as her face came down to clamp down on the metal, eyes staring into his as she slowly pulled off, wiped a corner of her mouth with a perfectly manicured nail and sat back down in her seat. 

“Sorry,” she said, lifting the napkin to her lips to really get the grease off. “I just wanted to make him jealous.” 

Jungkook’s brows furrowed. He looked back at the douchebag at his table. 

He was fuming.

“Is he the guy you spent the night with because…”

“No, not that one,” she corrected. “He’s, uh, dead.” 

So matter of fact. 

Jungkook could not have asked for a more startling start to the festivities. 

“Let’s just get through this fucking trial.”

—

He’s not sure what that breakfast did or how it did it, but he’s ready to go. He’s so incredibly ready to go. He is buzzing in his seat as Y/N lays out all of their papers on the counsel desk, touches base with the client in the stands, and makes sure that the podium is lined up with everything Jungkook needed.

Before the Judge comes out, Y/N gives his knee a squeeze. He doesn’t let it affect him, only fuels him. He bounces that knee the whole time while they do their appearances and everything gets started. And then, he’s up.

The bright courtroom lights, the dozen or so eyeballs staring at him. The chance to be interesting, the chance to be boring.

The chance to win.

And it goes great. Poised, emotional, but reasonable. The jury is locked in, they seem intrigued, they seem offended, they seem like they may have eaten a steak off this guy’s ranch.

He is endlessly pleased. He’s even more pleased when the state’s attorney sucks absolute ass. He keeps writing notes to Y/N about it, who doesn’t even bother to read any of the notes half the time, and even when she does, she just shoots a displeased look at him like you look too happy. Tone it down. 

He can’t help it, he keeps poking his pen at her thigh, taking and passing notes, and he’s back. He’s so back. Poker face on as he causes trouble - lion back in the colosseum. He was going to make those state attorneys quit their jobs after this with how well they were going to do. They had this in the bag.

They recess for lunch, and Y/N basically jumps out of her seat to get away from him. Jungkook happily follows her along, a little oblivious to how annoyed she is, but that’s mostly because she’s being good about not letting her annoyance show. At the very least, she’s aware that his joy is warranted, and that she just has a low tolerance for any show of it. She borderline seems allergic to it because during the recess, she hides from him completely, which is infuriating because he wants to go over one of his questions for his direct examination of the client - the poor rancher. 

He scours the halls, checks all of the spare rooms, even lingers outside of the girl’s bathroom for a couple of minutes. Nothing. 

Where could she have escaped to?

In the ten minutes he spends speeding through the Capitol’s courthouse, he never thinks or considers the fact that rummaging through the busiest courthouse in the city where he tanked his reputation, that there might be a slight chance of running into someone he shouldn’t run into. 

And run into Minji he does. 

She’s standing outside of the door to some Judge’s chambers, crowded by some associates and her, now, husband - a tall but beer gutted ex D1 dick with legacy parents whose biggest success is the area code he was born into (minus the beer gut, this might also be Jungkook down to a tee, so perhaps there is a little bit of a hate-through-the-mirror thing happening). 

He can digest it however he wants, but this visual information in front of him is not going to be dealt with well. 

Jungkook gags. Then and there he feels the run of bile in the back of his throat, his stomach twists and turns and he makes a beeline for the men’s bathroom on the other side of the hall. 

And right at the one single moment where Jungkook needs her gone, Y/N basically materializes in front of him, makeup retouched, hair combed back, and a fresh douse of her tonka perfume on. 

“Why are you running?” She blurts out, loud - makes a couple of people in the bustling hall look over. Not Minji, or the fat tall monster next to her. He can only thank god. “Who are you staring at - oh.”

His eyes shoot back to glare at her, but she’s staring over at Minji with absolute delight in her eyes. He’s not what she is - a chance for vengeance, a curiosity satisfied - who knows! Who cares! He needs to leave.

“Y/N, I need to go.” 

She looks back at him, face pulled back in confusion. 

“Go? Go where?” She asks, then looks back at Minji, “Like, go say hi?”

He shakes his head at the speed of light, grabs her wrist, and drags her into one of the spare rooms with all his might, because she’s insistently resisting, her curiosity desperately pulling her to Minji. 

Once they’re both in one of the conference rooms with the janky coffee machine and the overhead fans (the state budget hasn’t allowed for any HVAC updates since the 90s), and the door is securely closed behind them, Jungkook can finally feel himself breathe, but it’s too late, the panic has set in, and he knows for a fact that his body will be vibrating with stress, plagued by flashbacks that he can’t choke down, for the rest of the day. 

He’s out of commission, and they still have to do their client’s direct testimony before they’re done for the day. 

Y/N slumps into one of the chairs, displeased, legs crossed, as he tries to catch his breath. 

“You’re weird.” She mumbles, picking up the dangly pendant necklace that she had worn over her white button up. She had worn a navy skirt suit set today, one of her favorites from some insane underground, super exclusive Japanese designer. 

Jungkook had his humble Hugo Boss on, but they matched. He likes that they matched. He tries to focus on the colors for a moment.

“You’re very weird. Why are you freaking out now after the hard part is over?”

He gulps and walks over to the counter with the coffee machine, quickly shoves a pod in and holds a mug underneath to feel the warmth of the liquid in his hands. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, tries counting. 

“At least today is almost over. And all I did was sit. What a waste.” 

He bites his lip, knows she's going to be pissed, but asks anyway: 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be a waste?"

He could feel her piercing gaze on the back of his shoulders. He blew a metraton of air out, puffing out his lips and staring at the ceiling before putting the mug down and grabbing onto the counter.

“I need you to do the direct examination.”

“No.”

She's at her feet immediately, arms crossed, and eyebrows raised.

“Absolutely not.”

He sighs, rubs his temple and reaches for the little packets of creamer and starts dumping them one by one into his coffee.

“You have to.”

He hears her walking up to him before she grabs his shoulder and twists him around. 

“No. That is not what I do.” She persists, grabbing his tie and pulling him in close. “I do not do the stupid, bullshit storytelling, pity party. I fight - I do the opening, the closing, I cross the witnesses, I voir dire, I argue motions, I do not deal with making people feel bad for a millionaire with a ranch-” 

“I can’t do it!” He insists, lips quivering. “I wish I could-”

She’s not listening to him. 

“People pay me hundreds of thousands of dollars to go sit on trials to do just that. Do you know what people don’t pay me hundreds of thousands to do??? DIRECT TESTIMONY!” 

“I can’t!” He repeats, voice loud, and hands pushing her away. 

She fumes before him, fists balled and eyes slightly red. 

“You want to hit me?!” he accuses. “Fine, hit me, slap me, kick me - won’t make a difference! I can’t do it. I’m having a panic attack. It won’t stop until I get in the shower or -”

“I know hitting you won’t help.” She says, matter of fact again. He stops rambling, eyes narrow. “That’s not your thing, is it?”

It’s his turn to raise his eyebrow, tighten his expression, and show a bit of annoyance. He feels like he knows where this is headed, but at the same time, his mind cannot possibly fathom where she is about to take this conversation. 

“I know about them.”

His jaw clicks, he puts the mug that’s been keeping him steady back down on the counter. His hands are still shaking. 

“About your old associates. Back when you were a senior at S&S.” 

He stares at her like he’s getting ready to butcher something. His eyebrows are drawn back, his shoulders are tensing.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice still meek, and it sounds a little more broken than before. “What did you hear?”

“I heard about what you used to do to calm down. During trials.”

She knows that she’s testing a boundary right now. It’s not exactly fear, but there is hesitation in her voice. 

“Go on.”

She gets this look - a whim - and he can tell for certain that she feels no fear. She looks like she’s solved a puzzle. 

She doesn’t hesitate as she pulls out one of the chairs next to her, making way for herself to lean over the table. 

It takes everything for Jungkook to not drop the mug in his hands. To not drop his jaw. 

She leans on her elbows, faces the door, and with zero emotion, offers: 

“You can spank me. If it means you’ll focus again.”

Never in his wildest dreams…

“Y/N…”

“I won’t take it personally. We can forget about it after.”

He has no way of telling her that this does the opposite of helping, but her train of thought brings him somewhere desperate. 

“Really, do whatever you need to do. You have my permission.” 

It’s too bad that he finds a solution in that dark place. And it’s even worse that he’s been given the green light by Y/N to do whatever he needs to do to relax because she’s right, she does not do direct testimony. She can’t take the social cues, she derails the story, she gets frustrated with the client - just can’t get her message across. 

He walks up to her on the table, gently lifting her with a soft pull at her shoulder. She straightens out and stares at him with what Jungkook thinks might be fear. He can tell that she’s genuinely scared of having to do the direct testimony, genuinely doesn’t want to do it.

He needs to get it together. He needs her help for that. She seems to understand what his eyes are trying to communicate. 

“You wanna know what I actually did to those associates?” He hums, pushing her around so that she’s leaning against the table, her fingers coming down to hold onto the aging, glossy wood. 

Her eyes are careful, but she looks quiet and obedient - she seems to get very obedient when you have information she wants. 

And though there is no singular human emotion that Jungkook could evoke from them, he can tell at the very least that she’s curious. 

His hands came down to corner either side of her thighs, his face drawing close, maybe two inches from her nose. His arm muscles protrude as he leans his weight on them, strategically keeping his hips a good foot away from Y/N. 

He smiles, and that look was back - the same one that chastised her at the beginning of the trial when she called him dumb. 

And she looked like she wanted to hiss at him again, what a coincidence. 

“Ready?” he asked, leaning a little closer, lips maybe an inch apart, his hot breath fanning over her lips. She nodded again, slow, but her eyes seemed less focused. 

He looked up into her irises, brought his lips ever so close before parting them with a sick, sly smile, curled up in the nastiest way imaginable. And he said,

“You dumb, stupid, fucking bitch.”

Y/n blinked, and Jungkook took that as ammunition.

“You absolute, useless slut. You are worthless.”

Her face remained steady, just watching, not reacting. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing slightly as if to imitate exasperation. “Is this what you needed? To be told you’ll never be shit?”

She hummed, and it almost took him out of it. He needed her to cry, but getting the words out was enough for now to release that fat tension held in his tight body. 

“You can’t put two fucking words together. Is this what your parents wasted their money on? You should lick my fucking feet for letting you be on this case. For letting you work with me. What a desperate…”

She hummed again.

“Worthless...”

She nodded ever so slightly.

“Whore.”

He watched her chest rise a little higher than all her other breaths, before he took a step back, softened his face, and shook his head with something that felt like embarrassment. 

“I was a dick. Okay? A huge, awful dick.” He admitted, but Y/N didn’t seem to be entirely present for this revelation. She seemed to still be stuck in that vortex of insults.

“And I feel awful, and I should be judged for all those things that I did.” He leaned in close again for the next part. “But I never touched those girls. And I never would.”

She seemed to snap out of it when he said that. She seemed slightly apologetic. 

“Even if they begged for it.” he added. 

Her face had returned to its normal, passive state by the time that his eyes had to meet hers, and the moment was over, and the point was made. 

He was fine. They were going to win this thing. 

They collected themselves, Y/N jotted something down on her legal pad, and they headed back into the court room. On the way over, Jungkook got the courage to ask her:

“Is that why you were being so mean to me this morning? Because of the rumors?” 

She shook her head, adjusted the files in her arms. 

“No, I wanted the opening and you wouldn’t give it to me. I just wanted you to give it to me." She thought for a moment before adding, "And I don’t really care about the rumors. I just needed you to do the direct.” 

Simple. In an extremely complicated way, she was so simple. 

Jungkook handled the direct, it went exactly as it needed to do, and the jury seemed more than happy with his client’s story. They objected to the other side’s cross of their client in just the right amount of excess to convince the jury that the state’s attorneys were mean bullies. 

They high fived under the table before the judge called it a day. As they were packing up, Jungkook glanced down at Y/N’s legal pad, eyes locking on the note that she had scribbled earlier in the day. 

“He’s just as crazy as I am. I think.”

—

The rest of the trial goes by in a blur. The shared room situation stops being a problem because they stop sleeping. They take turns taking power naps here and there, but they keep telling each other as they organize and reorganize their strategy, that they’ll sleep when it’s over. They’re so close. 

The room turns into a war zone - paper copies of evidence everywhere, chaotic notes drawn over any legible surface, exhibits and diagrams laid out on the bed so as not to crease. 

And the hard work pays off. They show up prepared, the court room loves them, and the press that began to litter the stands loves pulling Jungkook aside for interviews, and Jungkook loves updating them on the whims of his new life. 

“Y/N Y/L/N is an amazing attorney. I am truly blessed to have her on my team. I think we need to encourage and support more strong willed, tough women in this industry. If we win, I owe it all to her.”

The reporter, hailing from some legal journal, is obviously familiar with these circles and looks kerfuffled at Jungkook’s description of Y/N. She tries to get him to clarify, and so does every other reporter that’s ever even briefly heard of Y/N’s reputation as being a ruthless villain, but he insists. She is the best attorney he has ever met. The kindest.

And he can’t be wrong. He gets to have his great big comeback with this case, but Y/N puts up a great performance, too. It's her usual level of excellence, which he had heard of back in the day, but he still watches in awe as all her weaknesses when it comes to the direct testimony transforms into a strength for her crosses. 

She doesn’t take social cues, that’s true, but that works great for her as she delivers her harsh one liners to the state’s witness, cutting him off at every chance, and barely even acknowledging his attempts to speak.

“And wouldn’t you agree with me, Mr. Seon, that this farm is not the only available parcel in the area for the government’s plans?”

“Yes, but -”

“And further, wouldn’t you agree that there are over five different parcels, without any present ownership and without any present commercial value, that would suit the government’s needs way better than a poor old farmer’s family owned, generations passed cow ranch?”

“P-perhaps  -”

“That is all, Your Honor.”

Murmurs from the jury, every time. Jungkook has had to fight his smiles extra hard during this trial. He doesn’t recall ever feeling this alive. 

He doesn’t recall ever enjoying his second chair this much. They were always just wrong - a little too nice, a little too cold, a little too aloof, a little too dumb, a little too smart. 

Y/N was everything, but nice and dumb. She was extremely cold, aloof, smart, mean, efficient, effective - god, was there any other word that he could muster?

After the closing statements, it became more than apparent that the jury would deliver a verdict in their favor on the last day, and so, they left the fourth day of trial without any work to bring back to the hotel. 

Jungkook suggested they go out to a real restaurant, eat something substantial after days of vending machines and room service. 

Y/N agreed, begrudgingly. She was more desperate for the bed and a good night’s sleep, but a hot meal couldn’t hurt. 

So, they go to the happening restaurant where all of the other attorneys are refueling after their cases, but Jungkook makes sure to take them to the one that he knows is frequented with his crowd - the nonprofit guys, the solo practitioners, the odd ones out. 

This crowd loves him, hails him - they’ve all been following the case. They’re patting him on the back, giving him their business cards, asking if he needs another associate. 

Y/N seems to hate this crowd more than the one in the cocktail lounge, which was quite the opposite crew - the finance guys, the tech startup CEOs, the grimy and slimy. 

She pokes her fork into her fish and chips like she’s stabbing it and sips at her beer as Jungkook reels away from another crowd that’s come to pay their respects at their table in this old timey Irish pub. Why do lawyers always frequent Irish pubs? He is on such a high by the time the crowd leaves them be that he can’t even eat, but he’s on his third beer, and he can’t stop despite the slight panic that he’ll be bloated in the post verdict pictures tomorrow. He needs to look good for the photo op. 

“Well, congrats, Mr. Jeon. I would say you have had a very successful comeback.” 

She’s barely interested in speaking the words as she shoves a tiny piece of fried fish into her mouth. Chews on it like its gum. 

“Thanks, you don’t have to sound so elated.” He jokes, eyes squinting as he jokingly fakes his smile before dropping it down to a more genuine one. “Seriously, though, thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better return to the scene. Glad to have you by my side.”

She shrugs, licks the salt off her lips and reaches for her beer. 

Takes a fat chug. He’s almost taken back. 

“Well, that’s a first.” She says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

The move does something to Jungkook. He takes a glance down to her stocking clad legs. She wore a skirt every day. Matched him every day, without even asking. 

“What is?” he asks, taking a big bite of his burger, humming around it when the charred meat hits his tongue. Real food.

“Glad to have you by my side.”

He looks up at her, wipes the ketchup off his lips, gulps.

“Huh?”

“Never heard that before. Let alone after a trial.”

He smiles, shakes his head. 

“You deserve it, Y/N, you were amazing-”

“No, I wasn’t.” She corrected him curtly, putting her fork down and pursing her lips. “I was mean, I basically tried to sabotage you on that first morning, constantly snapped at you, I can’t even recall how many times I’ve told you to shut up, shut down your ideas, ignored your comments, insulted you-”

“O-Okay, got the picture. Got it! I just think that…” he looks for the right words, and when he can’t find them, he just goes back to eating his burger, shrugging. “I think you’re great.” he says with a mouth full of burger, looking at his fries instead of her. 

When he looks up, she’s staring at her plate, hands folded in her lap, just staring at the fish, torn apart and discarded.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s distracted by the opening of the door, and a sudden rush of expensive suits and red bottomed shoes enter, bringing a cloud of murmurs with them: “can’t believe they kicked us out.” “they were being so unreasonable.”

And lo and behold, in comes Minji with her husband, and Jungkook wants to actually shoot himself in the face (no, he doesn’t. He doesn’t mean that). 

“She’s back,” Y/N quips, eyes fired up again. Jungkook looks at her exasperated, pleading. 

“We have to leave.” he says, signaling the waiter over for a check. “Now.”

Y/n pouts, the conniving mean, cold, heartless bitch pouts, and Jungkook is actually going to strangle her when they get back to the hotel - 

“Mr. Jeon, you have something on your face.” She says, out of nowhere. 

She’s out of her seat, in front of his, and in the crowded Irish pub, with bodies and noises all around, she manages to make it all go silent as she stands in between his legs, face inches apart from his. 

He borderline expects her to repeat his insults from that first day, but instead, she stands there and takes a napkin to the corner of his mouth, where he’s sure that there are no crumbs or other food artifices.

He just watches her, forgetting about Minji, as she leans, eyes locked on his lips. 

“She’s watching,” she whispers, eyes glancing up at his before flickering back down. “Do you want to piss her off?”

He slyly takes a glance in Minji’s direction, and she indeed is staring at Y/N, nostrils flaring slightly. He, out of instinct, tenses his muscles, and he notes that Y/n’s eyes follow the stretch of his chest under his rather transparent cotton button up. A light blue. 

He presses a hand into the small of Y/N’s back and pulls her closer to whisper into her ear:

“Let’s go for a swim. I don’t care what she thinks.”

He pulls away with a wink, and while his insides burn with memories and pain that will forever follow Minji along for him, he can find it in himself to hold it together because Y/N’s cold eyes and cold fingers offer him the necessary relief from the fire in his head. 

He grabs her hand, not thinking twice about it before grabbing their jackets from the backs of their seats and shoving enough bills down on the table to not cause a scene before they book it out of there, and true to his word, Jungkook sneaks them into the pool, which is technically closed so the overhead lights are off, but the pool lights offer enough illumination for a night swim.

He gets Y/n to agree to race him. She wins.

“I was a swimmer in college.”

“Of course you were.”

When they get back to the office, they’re heroes, warriors. Namjoon and Jimin greet them with confetti and balloons and chocolates, and Jungkook takes a whole box of it down to his office, sweet off of the high of their win - the jury returned an insane verdict for them, set a crazy precedent. He was back on the Times this morning with a little article in the legal section about the case.

Life is good. Can’t be better. 

The next day, Jungkook comes in earlier than everyone else, high off of an early morning run. He changes out of his sweaty gym clothes in the office, and does some of Jimin’s work for him before he gets in - half curious about what the guy does with his day, and half just trying to win brownie points with him since he’s been gone for so long. 

He enjoyed the chance to bond with Y/N (even though he has to shake some moments off of his head, like her bent over the conference table), but he didn’t want to risk his alliance with Namjoon and Jimin. They were nicer than Y/N.

He passes out the mail, waters the plants, and opens the shades, when an early flower delivery arrives. He greets the driver and signs for it, smiling wide - maybe it’s from one of the farmer rights’ groups. 

He checks the card, and his face drops when he realizes it’s for Y/N. He doesn’t read much else, but almost immediately catalogues it as a romantic gesture and his mind spins.

Romantic gesture?? For Y/N?? What idiot is trying to get their knees capped?

He scoffs at the sender, at their efforts. She would trample these flowers. Toss them out the window. Whatever, he doesn’t care. He broodingly tosses the arrangement on her desk, letting a few petals plop around. He feels slight guilt for being so careless with it, but his sudden change in attitude doesn’t let him dwell in the shame.

Instead, he broods, puts on his worst attitude, and manages to piss everyone off. 

“Who shat in your bed this morning?” Jimin quips in Jungkook’s office, pen tapping against the clipboard as he waits for his boss’s attention. 

“What do you want?” Jungkook grunts, eyes locked in his computer screen, tirelessly typing away at a motion. 

“The Southeastern Farmers’ coalition sent over a very nice bottle of whiskey - was going to ask if you wanted it.”

Jungkook sighs, stops typing.

“Was that really a good reason to bother me?”

“Jeez, who jizzed in your coffee?”

“I do want the whiskey actually!” Jungkook snaps, and Jimin mumbles something under his breath before turning around to leave, but Jungkook’s sigh makes him turn back around. 

“Spill.” Jimin orders, sitting down on the arm chair. 

“There is nothing to spill,” Jungkook grumbles, clicking his pen. “I do have a question, though.”

“Spiiiillll,” Jimin entices, a hand beckoning him to reveal his deepest secrets. 

“There were flowers for Y/N this morning. That’s fine, obviously, I’m just so curious, I just can’t imagine her dating. Does she date??” 

But Jimin doesn’t answer his question. His eyes just go wide and his hand hovers over his mouth for a moment before he clears his throat and stands up.

“Yellow roses?” he asks, and Jungkook slowly nods, more intrigued than ever. 

Jimin is a man on a mission as he leaves Jungkook’s office, speeding past Namjoon’s desk with an unforeseen ferocity. 

Jungkook has never seen him move so fast, so naturally, he’s hot on his tail, and he shoots a slight shrug at Namjoon as they pass him by. 

Namjoon in his infinite wisdom overhears the word flowers and glances down at the date on his calendar.

He curses, rips out his headphones, and follows the crew down to Y/N’s office. 

The door is closed. The lights are off.

“Oh god,” Jimin yelps, forehead slamming against the door with a loud thud. “Y/N, unlock the door!”

“She locked it??” Namjoon gasps out, catching up to them. He pushes Jungkook to the side slightly as he starts banging on the door. 

Jungkook stands, helpless and confused but enthralled somehow. 

“Y/N, open the door. It’s no use trying to work through it.” Namjoon speaks, loud but soft all at the same time, mouth leaning into the little crevice between the door and the doorframe. 

“She’s working in there?” Jungkook asks, trying to peek in above the frosted glass. “It’s pitch black. The lights are off.” 

But no one is paying attention to him. They’re just gently knocking on the door, trying to entice her out with whispered, soft offers through the door. 

We’ll get Jungkook to work remotely for the rest of the week.

We’ll take you to the driving range.

I will take all of your calls, every single one, just please come out. 

He learns a bit more about Y/N with each whisper, but he’s not even fully convinced she’s in there. There is no movement, no sign of life. 

When Jimin and Namjoon finally give up, they sulk at their desks, looking genuinely broken. Jungkook calls them into his office for a little therapy session.

“It upsets me. Every year, I don’t know how she does it.” Namjoon rambles, feet kicked up onto Jungkook’s desk as he lays back against the arm chair. Jimin sits perched on the arm, biting at his nails and pulling back to inspect his tortured nail beds before going right back to it. 

“And what is it exactly?” Jungkook asks, bringing in two piping mugs of tea for the men in an attempt to soothe them. He was tempted to sneak some of the expensive whiskey in to see if it would loosen them up more, but he realized that they were open books. They were never really super greedy with their Y/N handbook. They spilled whenever he asked. 

“Oh, god, where do we start?” Jimin wanes, fanning himself with his hands. He’s overwhelmed beyond relief. “Where do we start, Namjoon? Help.”

“It’s actually insanely straight forward, but you gotta pay attention because it’s Y/N so it’s a little more complicated than it seems.”

“Is it an ex? A stalker?”Jungkook asks, hands wrapping cozy around his own mug. 

“Both, kind of.” Jimin says, looking back down at Namjoon for assistance.

“Y/N doesn’t do exes. She doesn’t do relationships. But she’s human.”

“She fucks,” Jimin interjects, sipping his tea with a shaky grip. “She fucks without really thinking twice of it.”

He glares at Namjoon a little, and Namjoon blushes. 

Jungkook glows red, too, but he’s not sure if he would categorize it as a blush. It feels more like irritation. 

“Have you…” Jungkook asks, staring at Namjoon, trying to get his question out without really getting it out. 

“Uh, yeah, a couple of times.” 

“Tell him where, Namjoon.” Jimin insists, poking his leg with his foot. 

Namjoon blushes a little harder, his hand coming up to scratch at his nape. 

“Jimin’s old desk. At the old firm.”

Jimin nods, staring at Jungkook like “can you imagine? 

He can. Oh god, he can. He shivers. 

“I was pissed at Jimin about something, made a side comment about wanting to piss him off, and Y/N had suggestions. I took her up on it.”

“Were you still with…”

Namjoon shakes his head. 

“Oh god, no! I was single! Really, nothing serious - it doesn’t mean anything to her.”

Jimin leans a little closer to Jungkook, who is absolutely enthralled by these revelations.

“Like nothing, Jungkook. It’s like drinking water. Eating, showering.”

“Like a chore.” Jungkook elaborates to see if he’s caught on. 

Namjoon shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t call what she does a chore.”

Jungkook throws a pen at him. 

“Watch it. This is a professional office.” He then turns back to Jimin. “So, what? This is just a butthurt ex? One night stand? Why is it making her freak out so bad?”

“Ok, well, the first caveat is that she’s not freaking out.” Jimin corrects. “Y/N doesn’t freak out. She’ll snap, crash out - not freak out.”

“And I don’t know, what would you call a dead hookup?” Namjoon asks, genuinely pondering. “Would that count as an ex?”

Jungkook recalls the dead guy - the one she shared a bed with. 

“This is how it goes, and Jungkook, this stays in this room. Don’t tell Y/N we told you.” 

This is odd. They usually do this type of thing right in front of Y/N. They talk about her, theorize about her, speculate about her - they do it all directly in front of her, in the same room as her. 

So, this is… odd. No better word for it.

“It was her last year of law school. Not an awful year, but Y/N was a gunner, so she was a little distracted.”

Jungkook nods. Ok, distractions, fine, continue. 

“She was hooking up with this one guy. He sounded like a really nice guy if you ask me.” Namjoon continues. 

“Was friends with her from day one, always watched out for her, carried her books, dragged her to networking events. Honestly, Y/N would have gotten nowhere with that personality without him, and I say that as her biggest fan.” 

Jimin holds Namjoon’s knee, getting him to pause for a second.

“Keep in mind, this is just what we managed to squeeze out of other lawyers from her law school. She will not open up to us about this, so we’re missing most of the picture.” He interjects, but Namjoon keeps going, waving him off. 

“It’s enough of the picture for him to get the idea - anyway, they start hooking up. She’s a little distracted, a little overwhelmed - she gets pregnant.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. 

“Then, what!?” he beckons, eyes wide, fingers clutching the mug. 

“What do you think?” Jimin asks.

He can guess, somewhat, the events that follow. And he doesn’t make them indulge it. 

She’s obviously not a mother, and the poor guy is dead, but what of the flowers?

“He killed himself. Before graduation.” Namjoon answers.

“His parents have been mailing the flowers to her on his death anniversary every year since then.” Jimin explains.

“It usually takes them a while to find her again when she switches jobs. This was surprisingly fast. I thought she was off the hook for this year.”

Jimin looks sadder than he’s ever looked, and Namjoon doesn’t look much better. 

Jungkook sits with the information, his fervent interest fading away slowly to a somber realization. 

He knows nothing about Y/N, but finds that he cares for her infinitely, and he takes that time to also appreciate the fact that the two men in front of him also seem to care for her, deeply. And he thinks it funny, in that little second, that loveable, palatable Jungkook has burned every bridge he’s ever crossed, but cold, heartless Y/N has stolen hearts everywhere she’s gone. 

Exes that are still obsessed, old hookups willing to work for her. She even has a gay man on the verge of tears because of his worry for her. 

“Why doesn’t she just file for a restraining order or something?” he asks, his final curiosity of the night. Jimin and Namjoon exchange looks. 

Jungkook sends them both home early, citing that it’s been a tough day for everyone, and suggests that maybe they should just try giving Y/N her space to mourn. 

Jimin jumps on the offer, and sends out the mating calls (texts) to his roster. Namjoon doesn’t disagree, either, just settles for taking some of his work home to deal with after dinner, and he pauses by the elevators as Jungkook sees him out, helping him carry some of his files. 

He looks at Jungkook, observing him carefully before speaking. 

“She’s not mourning. Y/N doesn’t mourn. That’s another caveat.” 

Jungkook shuffles the files he’s holding onto, listens intently. Namjoon reaches over to grab them from him with a foot holding the elevator open. 

“She thinks she should mourn, but I don’t think she feels sad about what happened. I just think that she thinks she should feel sad, so she tries to. I think that’s why today is tough on her. It's also why she doesn't try to stop it. She thinks it's her punishment."

Jungkook nods, dusting his hands off on his pants. 

“Do you get that?” Namjoon asks, but his tone is interesting. It’s not looking for confirmation, not condescending - just a simple question: does he understand what she’s feeling?

“I don’t know.” Jungkook answers, honestly.

Namjoon nods. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if anyone ever will. I don’t think I ever will.”

Jungkook walks back into the office after that, most of the lights turned off and the day’s setting sun glowing all around through the windows. 

It looks like the office is on fire, and to be fair, a hellish sentiment seems to settle in the air once he realizes that he’s alone in the office with an unpredictable, unseen Y/N. 

He looks in the direction of her office, down the far end of the hall. He wonders if she had maybe slipped away while they were chatting it up in his office. 

He can’t help it. 

He walks over, spare key in pocket, contemplating his decision the entire way over. 

He knocks once, puts his ear to the door, and can’t make out a single noise. Not a breath, not a sigh, not a drop of dust. 

Utter silence.

“Y/N?” he calls out as softly, as gently as he can. He’s not sure why. Allegedly, she’s not even sad, so why is he trying to be comforting?

“Jimin and Namjoon are gone. You can leave, too, if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

Nothing. No response.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. Dug into his pocket, and fished out the spare. 

The golden key glowed orange as it caught a loose ray of dying sunshine - a clear, yellow warning sign. 

He squeezed every muscle in his body as he pushed the key through, but when he went to twist the knob, he found it moving on its own. 

He immediately jumped back, letting Y/N peek out from behind the door, eyes glassy and hair slightly unkempt. She had let it down out of her usual updo. 

She looked… different.

Her face held an emotion - Jungkook wasn’t sure what exactly, but it was not the usual void he was confronted with on a daily basis. 

Her button up was undone up top, and her black camisole peeked out from behind her collar. She had only opened the door a measly five inches, not quite letting him in. 

“What do you want?” 

He blinks at her, looks around the office to see if this was some grand big joke. She seems perfectly fine, other than the unkempt hair. 

But then, his eyes drop to her hand holding the door open - the nails. The nail beds are clean torn off, all of them bleeding and chapped. They’re also shaking - almost unnoticeably so, but when someone is as well kept as Y/N, things like this become obvious. 

Or, if you’re Jungkook, and you spend every chance you get hyperanalyzing her actions, a very similar result follows.

He looks at her once more, tries to measure the annoyance in her eyes as he calculates his next move. He has an epiphany when he puts up his finger, as if to say one second.

He runs down the hall to Jimin’s desk, snatches the expensive bottle of whiskey from the farmers and runs back to Y/N’s office. The door is fully open now. 

He spots the yellow flowers on her desk, directly in front of her monitors, where he had dropped it off so carelessly. 

He looks back at her, holding the bottle of whiskey like a prized fish. 

“I bet you haven’t gotten any work done today.”

She looks back at her desk before turning back to him. 

She shakes her head. 

He tsks, puts the whiskey at his hip, feigning some disappointment and attitude.

“Well, that just won’t do, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

Her ears glow a little red.

“I pay you to do your job. Not sit around in your office and mope.”

She stares at him, slightly confused.

“I say, we go into my office, you bring your laptop, and we drink some whiskey and catch up on the work you missed today.”

She keeps staring. 

He feels his heart in his throat.

She steps back into her office, closes the door. Jungkook waits for the sound of the lock, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he hears shuffling, drawers opening and closing, and Y/N emerges back out with her hair combed down and laptop and files in hand. 

“I’d like that.” 

Jungkook beams. The whole time they’re in his office, he’s beaming. He has never been as productive as he is now, tackling all of Y/N's stupid, petty assignments as she handles the more serious ones. 

She likes it, he thinks to himself every few moments. His giddiness is untenable. He has achieved what Jimin hasn’t. What Namjoon hasn’t. He managed to think of something that Y/N likes. 

Likes. 

Likes. 

She likes it.

I’d like that.

She’d like that. 

He giggles to himself, making her stare up from the rugged floor, where she sits with her stocking clad legs bent under her. 

She has her exhibits all laid out, arranging and rearranging them. 

“Can you pass the bottle?” she asks, and he does, with two hands, so careful in his delivery as he revels in the fact that she’s drinking with him. 

She has downed a good eighth of the bottle - the most he’s seen her drink - but she doesn’t seem to be reacting to it much. 

She passes the bottle back to him and he accepts, taking a quick swig before passing it back to her, seeing if she’ll take it up on such a quick rebound. 

She raises an eyebrow at him as if she recognizes the test, and takes a drink before handing it back over to him. 

“Have you ever danced before, Y/N?” he asks, suddenly emboldened.

He half expects her to scoff or to get up and leave once she senses that his work hours are up, and his shenanigan hours are starting. 

But she doesn’t. She answers. 

“Once.” 

He smiles, sits cross legged next to her, looking out at the exhibits. 

“There seems to be a theme here.” he comments, but she doesn’t respond, just adjusts one of the exhibits. 

He licks his lips in contemplation, watching her face before he proceeds. 

“Do you want to talk about him?” 

Her breath hitches. Her fingers clutch the piece of paper in her hands, lightly crushing it. 

He reaches over slowly, as if to not startle the hissing cat, and grabs it out of her hands, putting it back down on the ground. 

He doesn’t wait for her to look at him. He senses the slight freeze taking over her body - the slight shake. 

“It helps.” He says, and she closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath in. 

He feels really brave with the whiskey coursing through his veins, and maybe, more importantly, through hers. 

“Come on,” he beckons, getting back up to his feet. He extends a hand down in front of her face. “Show me.”

She stares at the hand. 

“What?” 

“Show me how you danced. I want to see.”

She hesitates, but she grabs his hand. 

Jungkook sees stars for a second. 

He helps her to her feet, but his pull is a little too strong, and she ends up tripping into his chest a bit before straightening out. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs, eyes searching his body as if she’s actually about to show him how they danced. 

And she actually does. She reaches out to hold one of his hands, brings the other to the small of her back 

“Is that okay?” She asks, and she genuinely seems to be wondering. Seems to care. 

He nods and gives her a smile, which he’s realized he had wiped off his face as he stared at her in wonder, but he does his best to keep it on as she sways them to no music - just the sound of the AC blowing through the vents. 

But he can’t keep it up. He is so intent on watching her, observing her, trying to record and catalog every feeling from every touch she gives him. 

The bump of her hip against his. The squeeze of her hands. The brush of her nose into his chest when they trip over a step. 

“It’s the waltz,” Jungkook realizes when she steps away, straightening out the collar of her shirt. 

“Mhm.” she says, brushing herself off as if touching Jungkook covered her in dust. 

“A wedding dance.” 

Silence. Slight pause in her movements before she continues tugging herself back into place. 

“Do you want a hug?” 

She really stops now. 

“What the hell is going on with you!?” She snaps, a heavy flash of anger landing on her face. 

Oh, he’s done it now. 

He opens his mouth to defend himself, but Y/N starts crashing out, as Jimin would say. 

“No, you have been excessively inappropriate at every turn, at every opportunity, and you are crossing some serious professional boundaries. I won’t have this, you know! I’ll quit!” 

For some reason, Jungkook’s brain screams at him to take that as a yes. Something in him tells him that the tirade is the biggest yes she could have given. 

He hesitates but reaches over, slowly, and grabs her shoulder. She hiccups, stares at the grip. 

With no further resistance, he tugs her into his chest. 

Wraps his arms around her waist. 

Digs his head into the crook of her neck. 

Squeezes.

Gives Y/N a good, healthy hug. 

She is frozen in his grip - both literally and figuratively. She’s not moving, but she also physically feels cold, and he wills it in himself to warm her up. 

Her hands, suspended in the air, slowly and shockingly, come down to wrap around his neck, tentatively. 

Her hold is weak, fleeting. But it’s there. 

“I’m sorry for the flowers. I shouldn’t have just put them into your office. Should have waited for Jimin,” he murmurs, and her hold on him solidifies a bit. “I’m sorry for everything else, too. You must have been sad.”

She starts to pull away and he doesn’t resist, expecting her to rip herself away from his embrace, but she lingers in it, pulling away just enough to look at his face.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t falter, just returns her gaze. 

He knows there are thoughts swimming in his eyes that she can’t decipher, either. 

He takes it in - they’re both mysteries to each other at that moment. Y/N isn’t the only anomaly. 

Then, and he really can’t help it, his eyes drop to her lips - bitten and bruised from the stress of the day, but still tinted from her lipstick. They part at his attention, and his gaze flickers to match hers, but she’s staring at his mouth, too. 

She looks determined. That’s the only way he can describe it. 

She kisses him. 

What does Jungkook do? 

Take a guess. 

He’s on her. Immediately. Lips reciprocating, and hands exploring. 

First on her waist, wrapped around, pulling her tight into his chest as she widens her mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck and her hands winding into his hair. 

He moans when she pulls, he can’t help it, and his arms have enough of her wandering hands as he grabs a hold of them and walks her back until her back is against the wall and he has her wrists pinned above her head, pulling her arms up, taunt. 

She lets herself be kissed like that, Jungkook’s tongue happily dancing with hers, exploring her mouth, his free hand coming up to grab her jaw so that he can twist it one way or the other, deepening the kiss to his heart’s content. 

He’s almost, almost too kiss drunk (and whiskey drunk) to notice her hands falling down to his belt, tugging his hips a little closer, but he pulls back, shy about pressing his concerningly and embarrassingly hard member into her. 

“No,” he murmurs against her lips before pulling away suddenly. “No!”

The sight in front of him produces a guttural reaction. Makes him want to rip everything off of her and fuck her into the carpet, but it’s too much. 

All of this is too much for today. Her messed up hair, her bitten lips, her flushed cheeks, her glassy eyes. 

“We should go home.” He says, running a hand through his hair to tame it back into place after her assault. 

“I’m not going to go home.” She says, matter of fact, but starts collecting her things, buttoning up her shirt. 

“Okay, I’ll leave the keys, you can -”

“No, I mean,” she says, collecting the exhibits off of the floor. “I need to have sex, and you won’t have it with me, so I’m going to go to someone else’s house to have sex.”

Jungkook forgets how to breathe. 

“Also, it would be nice if you could give me something in writing just confirming that what happened was a consensual exchange.”

He’s bewildered.

“I- I think it’s pretty obvious that it was consensual.” he stammers, trying his best to not point at the hard on he’s supporting, but he doesn’t need to, she looks directly at it. No shame. 

“You can mention the erection in the letter, as further confirmation. But I can’t read your mind, and you looked pretty assaulted to me, so I don’t know, I just think I’m better off covering my bases.” 

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he wants to do, but he doesn’t know what he should do. 

He wishes Jimin or Namjoon were here to give him pointers. 

“I apologize if you feel like I assaulted you. I am going to go have sex with an old coworker now.” 

“Wait!” 

Jungkook shouts, hand held out in front of him as if that’ll stop her. 

It does, surprisingly. 

She raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to come to his senses. 

He weighs his options, tries to think straight, but he can’t. All he can picture is Y/N going over to Namjoon’s place, and letting him do whatever he wants to her…

He consciously knows it won’t be Namjoon, but it doesn’t matter. He tries to shuffle through all the men he’s seen around Y/N since he hired her - the drunkard from the lounge, the douchebag at the hotel, and now Namjoon - to see if anything hits less offensive, but every option drives a nail into his soul. 

He can’t. He possibly can’t. 

But something happens to him, something switches. A familiar intuition emerges - a dark sinister need- a want. 

And Jungkook always gets what he wants. 

“Y/N,” he speaks low, doesn’t look at her as he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls them back up to his elbows. 

“Yes?” 

“I need to calm down.” 

Y/N tries to make sense of that. He can see her wracking her little head as she looks around a bit confused. 

“Okay?” She says, confusion drenched in the simple word. 

She sideeyes the shit out of him when he reaches for his belt, undoing the buckle.  

“Remember that first recess during the trial?” he asks, pulling the leather off of his pant buckles. 

She nods, slow and wary. 

“Remember your generous offer?” he smirks, and there it is again. That dark, nefarious twist - something between a smile and a snarl. 

She nods again, puts the papers down on the ground. Her hands are clasped in front of her when she straightens out. 

“I remember.” 

“Is it still on the table?” 

She seems to be thinking for a minute, weighing her own options as Jungkook had just done. 

But Jungkook has no patience. Not in the state of mind he has just slipped into. 

“I thought that wasn’t your thing.” 

“I just told you what I did to the associates,” he corrected, wrapping the leather belt around his fist once, twice, then unraveling it, watching Y/N’s eyes circle his actions in pure intrigue. “You didn’t exactly ask me how I like to fuck Y/N.”

She swallows, body stoic. 

“Would you like to know, Y/N?” He asks, taking a bold step away from his desk towards her. There is barely 5 feet left between them. 

He takes another step. 2 feet left. 

“Do you want me to show you?” 

They stand, Jungkook with sleeves pushed back, composure back in his bones, and Y/N as the textbook picture of “curiosity killed the cat.”

He sees the hair stand on her arms.

She nods. 

He takes another step closer, looks straight into the abyss of her eyes - no fret, because he knows his are just as dark. 

“On your knees.” He drags the words out like poison, staring at her down the bridge of his nose - a highline attitude he’d worked so hard to ditch in this new life. 

But the return is rather delicious. And that’s what scares Jungkook as she lowers herself on the ground, digs her knees into the carpet - this version of him tried killing him. And yet, Y/N summons it no problem, and it doesn’t feel terrifying like that night in his apartment when he tried to murder himself. 

It feels rewarding. It feels good. 

“Give me your hands,” he orders, and she doesn’t hesitate much before offering up her wrists. He carefully winds the leather around them before knotting it down the middle, giving it one good tug to confirm the strength of his DIY cuffs. 

She stares at his handy work, eyes glittering. 

“Can you get up?” he asks, and she does, raising herself to her feet with perfect balance. 

Her arm leans against his chest for support as he does, eyes looking up at him like he holds her entire world. 

He’s never seen her look so… loving. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” she asks, and he just purses his lips and shakes his head. 

“Why would I kiss a desperate slut like you?” 

“Well, you just did…” she whispers, pointer finger on her lips as she glances back to the spot where he had her pushed up against the wall. 

“On the desk, Y/N.” He says, cutting her off short, and her head snaps back obediently. She nods and walks over, stands by the desk, her ass just barely sitting on the edge of it. 

He stands in front of her, arms crossed, eyes drinking in her fully clothed body. 

“Some ground rules,” he starts, eyes locked back onto hers, but she’s staring at his rock hard dick. Licking her lips. 

“Eyes up here,” he snaps, a bit of his character slipping at the visual assault, but he recoils, maintaining his intimidating composure. 

“Number one - you don’t talk, unless I tell you to.”

She considers it before nodding. 

“Number two - you do whatever I say. No questions.”

She nods again. 

He walks up to her now, grabs her cuffed hands which she holds up to her sternum and tugs her closer with the belt. She falls into his chest, and he catches her with a strong hand around her waist. He makes it a point to flex every time his body is on her - lets her feel how hard his muscles are under her touch. 

He lets her land her hands on his chest, fingers sprawling out over his decollete, hidden by the thin fabric of his summer shirt. 

“And you’re done when I say you’re done.” 

She opens her mouth to ask a question but then quickly shuts it. 

It lights him up - the sudden obedience. The easy submission. He’s never needed to be in someone more than in this moment. 

“No bitching, no complaining, and no going to anyone else to finish the job.” 

Her feet shift in her heels. Her legs press together. He smiles that sick, sick smile and runs a hand up her thighs, stopping just at the hem of her skirt, finger tracing right under just to see how she reacts.

She pushes up on her toes, almost as if she wants to get away, but it becomes clear that she’s just adjusting herself, and in fact just trying to get closer as she sinks bank down, trying to get his hand further under that skirt. 

His body heats up at the thought of her neediness. Wonders if she’d ever beg. If he could get that out of her. 

“Turn around, Y/N,” he speaks softly, but there is no way he can soften the delivery. He can tell that this new Jungkook is offputting to her. He can’t tell if it’s a good thing. 

She listens, turns around to face the desk, his body standing perpendicular to hers. He closes his eyes, leans into her perfectly blown out hair, inhaling the scent of the shampoo she uses. 

She shudders. 

His hands come up to trace the top of her skirt where her shirt is tucked in, fingers just lightly tracing over her abdomen as his mouth moves to her ear, biting on the lobe gently. 

Her breathing picks up, her nipples harden through her shirt. He feels indulgent when he lets fingers graze them, feeling the nubs under the pads of his fingers. 

“Tell me what you want,” he orders, lips coming down to kiss her cheek, her jaw, pushing her hair back as he goes to stand behind her, pulling her hips back into his. 

And she finally feels him. 

She lets out a sound unimaginable - one simply cannot describe it. 

He must have been waiting for that sound his entire life because it fires him up. Puts his thoughts to action. 

With a steady hand against the top of her back, he pushes her down on the desk, making her ass lean flush against his dick. He drives it further into her, letting out indescribable sounds himself. 

“I asked you a question,” he spits, his hand coming down to run over the curve of her ass. 

She, uncharacteristically, tries to dig her hips into the desk, chasing it away from the pleasure he’s dying to give her. 

She just shakes her head before laying her cheek against the desk to get the smallest of glimpses of him over her shoulder. 

“I can’t,” she murmurs, almost choking on words. “I can’t do dirty talk.”

He wants to laugh - he’s bewildered. 

What is she? What exactly is he supposed to do with her?

He brings his hand down on her ass, a loud clap - it resonates all the way down to her office. 

Her cheeks burn. 

“Did I ask you for dirty talk? No, I asked you to tell me what you want. Use your words, smart girl.”

She moans. 

She fucking moans. 

He slaps her ass again, unwittingly grinding into her as he does it. 

“Tell me what you want, or you’re really going to regret leaving it up to me.” 

“I want you to keep hitting me.” 

Oh. 

“I’d prefer it if you slapped me in the face.”

God. 

He opens his mouth but then shuts it - unsure of what to do. He’s pretty sure he’s blown a fuse. 

He’s off of her in seconds, turning her around and undoing his belt around her wrists. He doesn’t look at her when he does it, and she doesn’t stop looking at him. 

He takes a step back when he’s done. Eyes wide and face flushed and guilt strewn all over him. 

“I might also need something in writing.” He mutters, back to the new Jungkook, who is now so insanely out of his element. “O-on the consent thing.”

She awkwardly looks around and nods, trying to avoid eye contact. Jungkook feels wrong. 

“Sorry for stopping so abruptly-”

“It’s fine. I’m going to leave,” she says before straightening her outfit and heading for the door, and Jungkook feels his heart break then and there. 

But right before she leaves, she stops with her hand on the handle and looks back at him over her shoulder. 

“I’m going to go to my apartment after this. I won’t have sex with anyone else tonight.”

And she leaves, just like that. 

[seokbite]

WATERBOY ﹒⟢ j.jk

─── COME HERE WATERBOY! ﹐✶ watching her from across the field, he couldn't help but notice every little thing about her. the way she moved, gracefully─ her flexibility was hypnotizing, her laugh like a sonnet. her wanted her, but what business does the head cheerleader have with the nobody nerdy waterboy, anyway?

🏈 *◞ jeon jungkook x f ! reader ﹐☆ waterboy jungkook & cheerleader reader jungkook's kinda creepy (he watches her) jungkook wears glasses sex on a football field masturbation oral (m. rec)  it's sloppy as fuck cum swallowing makeouts dry humping doing the splits on it doggystyle rough sex missionary squirting ➜﹒minors do not interact 

▹ word count ✶﹐8k

The afternoon sun blazed across the football field, turning the air thick and sticky with heat. Jungkook crouched beside the large orange cooler on the sidelines, his black-rimmed glasses constantly slipping down the bridge of his nose from the sweat gathering there. He pushed them back up with his index finger for what felt like the tenth time in five minutes, then returned to filling water bottles one by one. The players were grunting and slamming into each other during drills, but Jungkook’s attention had already wandered, like it always did; straight to you.

A burst of light, flirty giggles floated through the humid air, and his head lifted immediately. There you were, sitting on the metal bench in your tiny red-and-gold cheer uniform, legs crossed so the short skirt rode enticingly high on your thighs. Kim Namjoon, the star quarterback, leaned in close beside you, his broad frame nearly crowding yours as he whispered something directly into your ear. Whatever he said made your lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk. You bit your lower lip, tilting your head slightly to give him better access, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Jungkook’s grip tightened around the water bottle in his hand, plastic creaking under his fingers. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He never could when it came to you. The way Namjoon made you blush and giggle like that… it twisted something sharp and hot in his chest. He wished it was him sitting there instead, him making your cheeks flush that pretty shade of pink, him earning those soft, breathy laughs. He imagined what it would feel like to have your full attention, to be the one you leaned into so willingly.

He screwed the cap onto another bottle, movements slowing as he kept watching. Namjoon’s hand rested casually behind you on the bench, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder. The quarterback was murmuring again, low and intimate, and the way your smirk deepened told Jungkook everything. It wasn’t innocent. Nothing about the two of you looked innocent.

Unable to resist, Jungkook grabbed a few filled bottles and walked closer under the excuse of handing them out. His heart pounded harder with every step. He just needed a glimpse. Just a few seconds of their conversation.

“…bet you’re so fucking flexible,” Namjoon was growling quietly, voice thick with lust. “All those flips and splits you do? I’d have you in my bed with your legs over my shoulders, fucking you deep until you’re screaming my name. You’d take every inch so well, wouldn’t you, baby? So wet and bendy just for me.”

Jungkook’s stomach clenched. Heat flooded his face and neck as the vulgar words sank in. His cock twitched traitorously in his shorts despite the sharp sting of jealousy. He had imagined those same filthy things about you, late at night, hand wrapped around himself, biting back your name while picturing you in that uniform, underneath him, moaning because of him.

You let out a sultry little laugh, voice low and teasing. “Mmm, big talk, Joon. You think you could really handle all this flexibility? I don’t make promises… but maybe if you play really well today, I’ll think about it.” Your tone dripped with heat, playful yet noncommittal, leaving him wanting more, just like you always did. Then you rose gracefully from the bench, stretching your arms overhead so the crop top lifted and exposed even more of your smooth waist. Jungkook’s gaze traced every inch of you helplessly. As you turned to leave, your eyes swept across the sideline and locked directly onto his.

Time seemed to stop. You knew. You knew he had been standing there listening. A slow, wicked wink fluttered from you, your lashes lowering playfully before you turned away like nothing had happened. Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat. His glasses slid down his nose again, but he didn’t push them up. He was too stunned, face burning, pulse roaring in his ears.

Namjoon noticed him then. The quarterback stood up with a scoff and roughly yanked the water bottle from Jungkook’s hand. “Move it, waterboy. Stop staring and do your job,” he muttered dismissively before jogging back toward the field.

Jungkook barely felt the bottle leave his grip. His eyes stayed glued to you as you walked away toward the rest of your squad, hips swaying with that confident, hypnotic cheerleader strut. The short skirt flirted with the curve of your ass with every step, your ponytail bouncing lightly, sunlight catching on your skin. He watched the gentle flex of your thighs, the confident swing of your arms, completely mesmerized.

He pushed his glasses up one last time with a shaky finger, trying to force himself to look away before anyone else noticed how obviously affected he was. But he already knew he’d be replaying that wink and every filthy word he’d overheard, for the rest of practice. For the rest of the night.

You knew he was watching. And something in that wink told him you liked it.

Practice had finally ended. The sharp blasts of the coach’s whistle faded into the distance as the football players trudged off the field, helmets tucked under their arms and pads clanking. The golden evening light stretched long shadows across the grass while the cheerleaders began wrapping up their own routines nearby. Jungkook moved through his usual cleanup ritual, collecting stray water bottles, dragging the heavy cooler toward the sideline cart, and gathering scattered equipment. Every few moments, though, his eyes drifted back to you.

You were near the 50-yard line, surrounded by your teammates and friends, finishing your cool-down stretches. Your body bent and arched with effortless grace, one leg extended high in a standing split, the short cheer skirt riding up dangerously and revealing the smooth curve of your ass and the toned muscle of your thigh. Jungkook swallowed hard, glasses slipping down his nose again as he stared. The way your crop top clung to your chest from the sweat of practice made his mouth go dry. He watched the gentle bounce of your breasts as you switched sides, the way your ponytail swayed, the soft sheen of sweat glowing on your skin in the fading sunlight.

You caught him looking.

For a brief second your eyes met his across the field. Instead of glaring or ignoring him like most people did, you smiled, slow, knowing, and a little playful. The same kind of smile you’d given Namjoon earlier, except this one was aimed directly at him. Jungkook’s face burned instantly. He whipped his head away so fast he nearly dropped the stack of cones in his arms, heart hammering against his ribs. Shit. She saw me. Again. Embarrassment flooded through him, but underneath it was a sharp thrill that made his stomach tighten.

He busied himself with the cart, pushing it toward the locker room entrance with more force than necessary. The cheerleaders were finishing up now too, gathering their pom-poms and bags, their chatter and laughter filling the air. Jungkook kept his head down as he made another trip back onto the field to grab the last few water bottles, cheeks still warm. By the time he returned, the girls were slowly heading toward the parking lot or the gymnasium. Their voices grew fainter with every passing minute.

Ten minutes later, the field was blissfully empty.

Jungkook let out a long, shaky sigh of relief as he stood alone near the sidelines. The only sounds left were the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. No more grunting players. No more giggling cheerleaders. Just quiet. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his black t-shirt, revealing a sliver of his toned stomach, and leaned against the cool metal railing for a moment.

But the peace didn’t last long. His mind, traitorous as always, wandered straight back to you. He kept replaying what he’d overheard earlier, Namjoon’s low, filthy voice describing exactly how he wanted to bend you, fuck you, make you scream. The images flooded Jungkook’s brain like molten lava. He imagined himself in Namjoon’s place… you underneath him, that same flirty smile replaced with something desperate and needy. He pictured you begging for him, pretty voice breaking as you moaned his name, legs wrapped tight around his waist, hips rolling up to meet every thrust.

His breathing grew heavier. He thought about how your perky tits would look bouncing with every hard snap of his hips, nipples hard and begging for his mouth. The way your tight cheer skirt would stay pushed up around your waist while he fucked you right here on the field, or in the locker room, or anywhere he could get his hands on you. He imagined the wet sounds your pussy would make around his cock, how flexible you really were, legs over his shoulders, folded in half beneath him while he pounded deep and whispered how long he’d been dreaming about this.

“Fuck…” Jungkook whispered under his breath, voice hoarse.

The ache between his legs had become impossible to ignore. His cock strained hard against the front of his athletic shorts, throbbing with every dirty thought. Glancing around quickly to make sure the field was truly empty, he pressed the heel of his palm against the thick bulge, rubbing slowly over the thin fabric. A low, shaky groan slipped from his throat at the small bit of relief. He palmed himself firmer, eyes fluttering half-closed as he leaned harder against the railing, mind still flooded with visions of you.

You moaning his name. You creaming around his cock. You looking up at him with those same playful eyes while you begged him to cum inside you. His hand moved a little faster, breath coming in short pants behind his glasses as the empty field stretched out silently before him.

The empty field felt dangerously quiet now, the distant sounds of the campus fading into nothing more than a low hum. Jungkook’s breathing had grown ragged, his palm no longer enough to satisfy the aching need burning through him. After another nervous glance around, scanning the bleachers, the far end of the track, and the locker room entrance, he convinced himself he was truly alone. His heart hammered wildly as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his black athletic shorts and underwear, tugging them down just enough to free his throbbing cock.

It sprang out heavy and flushed, already leaking at the tip. Jungkook wrapped his hand around the thick length with a shaky exhale, eyes fluttering as he gave the first slow stroke from base to head. “Fuck…” he whispered, voice barely audible. His mind immediately filled with you again, this time far more vivid. He imagined how warm and tight you would feel wrapped around him, how your slick walls would squeeze his cock as he pushed inside you. He pictured your flexible body taking every inch, legs spread wide for him, that tiny cheer skirt bunched up around your waist while he fucked you deep and slow.

His strokes grew steadier, slick sounds barely masked by the breeze. He leaned back against the metal railing, one hand gripping it tightly for balance while the other worked his cock faster. In his fantasy, you were moaning his name— breathy and desperate— your perky tits bouncing with every thrust, nipples begging for his tongue. He imagined gripping your hips, watching the way your pussy would stretch around him, creaming down his length as you begged him not to stop. “Jungkook… please…” he could almost hear you whimpering in his head.

His glasses fogged slightly from his heavy panting. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down his temples as he pumped his fist quicker, thumb swiping over the sensitive head on every upstroke, spreading the precum that kept dripping out. He was getting so close already, thighs tensing, balls tightening, the coil in his stomach winding tighter and tighter—

A sharp squeak of surprise suddenly cut through the silence.

Jungkook’s eyes flew open in panic. His hand froze mid-stroke as his head snapped toward the sound. There you stood, only a few yards away, wide-eyed and frozen in place. Your gym bag was clutched tightly in one hand, your cute pink water bottle in the other. You were still wearing your full cheerleading uniform, the red and gold fabric hugging your body, but your hair was now down— long, slightly messy waves cascading over your shoulders after you’d taken out your ponytail. The surprise on your face was unmistakable, lips parted, cheeks flushing as your gaze dropped involuntarily to his exposed cock still held tightly in his fist.

“Shit—!” Jungkook choked out, face burning crimson. He fumbled desperately to cover himself, yanking his shorts back up but only managing to make the situation more awkward as his hard, throbbing length strained obscenely against the thin fabric. “I-I’m so sorry— I thought— I didn’t know anyone was still here— fuck, I’m really sorry—”

He kept stammering, words tumbling out in a panicked rush, one hand still half-covering the massive bulge in his shorts while the other pushed his glasses up his nose. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Of all people to catch him like this… it had to be you.

But you didn’t scream. You didn’t run away or call him a perv.

Instead, you slowly shook your head, eyes still wide but now sparkling with something entirely different, curiosity, amusement, heat. You took a slow step toward him, then another, your hips swaying gently in that cheer skirt as you closed the distance. The evening light caught in your loose hair, making it glow softly.

You stopped just a couple feet away, tilting your head slightly. “Jungkook…” your voice was soft, almost teasing. “Was that my name you were whispering just now?”

He froze, mouth opening and closing uselessly for a moment. His cock gave a helpless twitch in his shorts at the sound of your voice saying his name. The embarrassment was overwhelming, but the way you were looking at him, not disgusted, but intrigued, made it impossible to lie. His cheeks burned hotter as he swallowed hard and gave a small, reluctant nod.

“…Yeah,” he admitted hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper. “It was.”

A slow, beautiful smirk spread across your lips. You took another step closer, then one more, until you were standing right in front of him. Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply in his throat, his back pressing harder against the metal railing as if he needed something solid to keep him upright. You were so close now that he could smell the faint sweetness of your perfume mixed with the light scent of your sweat from practice. His eyes widened behind his glasses, darting across your face, your loose hair, and the way your cheer uniform still clung to your body.

The smirk on your lips never faded. It only deepened as you looked up at him through your lashes. “What were you thinking about in particular, Jungkook?” you asked softly, voice laced with curiosity and something far more dangerous.

His brain short-circuited. “W-What…?” he stammered, barely able to get the word out. His cheeks were burning, and his cock was still painfully hard, straining against the front of his shorts like it had a mind of its own.

You didn’t let him hide. Tilting your head slightly, you looked him dead in the eyes and asked with shameless clarity, “Were you thinking about fucking me, Jungkook?”

The directness of your question hit him like a tackle. Jungkook’s mouth opened, but no words came out. All he could do was nod, a small, helpless, eager bob of his head, because he didn’t trust his voice not to crack or moan. His breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling quickly as he stared down at you in pure disbelief and overwhelming want.

Your smile turned sweeter, almost affectionate, as you tilted your head the other way. Without another word, you gracefully sank to your knees right there in front of him on the grassy sideline. The sight alone nearly made Jungkook’s knees buckle. Your cheer skirt fanned out around your thighs as you settled between his legs, looking up at him with those bright, mischievous eyes. You placed your hands on his thighs, slowly running them up and down the tense muscles, feeling the way they trembled under your touch.

“Is this what you were thinking about?” you asked innocently, batting your lashes while your palms stroked higher, teasing the hem of his shorts. Jungkook could only nod again, lips parted, mouth half open in awe. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose, but he didn’t dare move to fix them. He was completely frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you on your knees for him.

You let out a soft, delighted giggle at his stunned expression, the sound light and sweet, but it sent another throb straight to his cock. Without breaking eye contact, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his shorts and underwear again, tugging them down just enough to free his aching length. It sprang out heavily right in front of your face, flushed dark and glistening at the tip.

Your hand wrapped around him a moment later, warm, soft, and confident. Jungkook let out a choked groan as you started stroking him slowly from base to tip, twisting your wrist gently at the head just right. Your grip was perfect, slick from how much he had already leaked while thinking about you. You pumped him with long, deliberate strokes, watching every reaction on his face with that same smirk playing on your lips.

Your hand kept moving around him in smooth, steady strokes, thumb gliding over the sensitive head every time you reached the top, spreading the constant leak of precum down his thick shaft. Jungkook’s hips twitched forward involuntarily into your fist, his breathing ragged and shaky as he stared down at you like you were some kind of dream he was terrified of waking up from. “How long have you been wanting to fuck me, Jungkook?” you asked sweetly, eyes locked on his face while your hand twisted expertly around him.

“A while…” he whined, the words coming out breathy and broken. His voice cracked slightly, sounding embarrassingly needy. “F-fuck… a long while…”

You let out a soft, delighted laugh that sent vibrations straight through him. The sound was so pretty, so teasing, and it only made his cock throb harder in your grip. “Really?” he breathed out, genuinely surprised, eyes wide behind his fogged-up glasses, as you told him you'd been thinking about it just as much “You… you’ve been thinking about it too?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding as you looked up at him with that wicked little smirk. Your hand suddenly quickened its pace, stroking him faster, tighter, wet sounds filling the quiet evening air. “I’ve thought about it a lot, actually. About you fucking my tight little pussy… stretching me open with this big cock.” Your voice dropped lower, filthy and sweet at the same time. “I always figured the quiet ones like you knew how to fuck so good. All that pent-up energy… I bet you’d ruin me and still be so sweet about it.”

Jungkook moaned loudly at your words, knees nearly buckling. His hand shot out to grip the railing tighter for balance as pleasure shot through his body like electricity. You leaned in closer, warm breath ghosting over his aching cock. You guided the swollen head to your lips, smearing the shiny precum across them like gloss before tapping the sensitive tip against your tongue a few times, light, lewd little taps that made wet sounds. Jungkook shuddered hard, a broken moan ripping from his throat as his hips jerked forward.

Then you took him into your mouth. The blowjob was immediately sloppy and nasty. You sank down on him with wet, greedy sounds, taking him as deep as you could while your tongue swirled messily around the underside. Spit dripped from the corners of your mouth, running down his shaft as you bobbed your head faster, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard. You didn’t hold back, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat, pulling off just enough to gasp for air before diving back down, jerking the base of his cock with your hand while your lips and tongue worked the rest.

Thick strings of saliva connected your mouth to his cock every time you pulled back, only for you to spit on him and take him even deeper. The sounds were filthy— wet gurgles, sloppy slurps, and your soft, eager hums vibrating around his length. Jungkook’s knees were actually shaking now, thighs trembling as he fought not to thrust too hard into your warm, perfect mouth.

“F-fuck… oh my god…” he whimpered, one hand hovering like he wanted to touch your hair but was too nervous to do it. His glasses were completely fogged up, chest heaving, abs clenching tight under his shirt as you sucked him like you’d been starving for him.

You didn’t slow down. If anything, you took him even deeper, sucking him with messy, eager enthusiasm. Wet, obscene sounds echoed softly in the open air as you bobbed your head faster, spit dripping down your chin and onto your cheer top. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, tracing every vein while you hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard.

Jungkook’s hand trembled as it finally moved from the railing to your face. His palm cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing over your skin as he felt the way his thick cock bulged inside your mouth. The intimate touch made you hum around him, the vibration pulling another broken moan from deep in his chest. “You’re so… fuck— you’re so pretty like this,” he panted, voice whiny and wrecked. “Your mouth feels so good… so warm and wet— ahh, I’ve dreamed about this…” His praise spilled out between shaky breaths, eyes half-lidded behind his fogged glasses as he watched you worship his cock.

You fluttered your lashes up at him sweetly, locking eyes while you took him even deeper, gagging softly when he bumped the back of your throat. The look you gave him, innocent yet so fucking filthy, made his knees buckle again.

After a few more deep, sloppy strokes, you pulled off his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva still connecting your swollen lips to the glistening head. You tapped his heavy length against your tongue a few times again, loving the way his eyes fluttered closed and his breath hitched every single time the wet slap sounded. “Are you close, Jungkook?” you asked teasingly, voice slightly hoarse as you stroked him fast with your hand.

He whimpered pathetically, nodding frantically. “Y-yes… I’m so close— please— I can’t hold it…” You smiled and dove back down immediately, sucking him harder and faster than before. One hand pumped the base while your mouth worked the rest, sloppy, nasty, and relentless. Jungkook’s hand stayed on your cheek, thumb stroking your skin as his hips started twitching uncontrollably.

With a choked, broken moan of your name, he came hard.

Thick ropes of cum spilled deep into your mouth, pulse after pulse as his cock throbbed against your tongue. You kept sucking him through it, milking every last drop while he shuddered and gasped above you.

When he finally finished, you slowly pulled off, keeping your lips sealed around him until the very end. You tilted your head back slightly, opening your mouth to show him the mess he’d made, your tongue coated in his cum, some of it dripping down toward your throat. Jungkook stared down at you with wide, dazed eyes, completely stunned and still breathing heavily. Then, while keeping eye contact, you closed your mouth and swallowed visibly, the motion smooth and deliberate. A soft, satisfied hum left your throat as you licked your lips clean.

Jungkook was still panting, eyes glassy and wide with disbelief as he watched you swallow. Something inside him finally snapped. He reached down, hands trembling but determined, and gently pulled you up from your knees. The moment you were standing, he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you, deep, urgent, and surprisingly bold for how shy he usually was.

You gasped softly against his mouth, surprised by the sudden intensity, but you melted into it almost instantly. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pushed back against him, kissing him harder. What started as a passionate, grateful kiss quickly turned sloppy and messy. Tongues slid against each other, wet and eager. Soft moans spilled into each other’s mouths as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss. Spit slicked your lips and chins while you devoured each other, breathing heavily through your noses, bodies pressed tight together on the empty sideline.

Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the hem of his black t-shirt. Jungkook helped you pull it over his head, revealing his surprisingly toned chest and abs, skin glistening with a light layer of sweat. He returned the favor immediately, his hands sliding under your cheer top and peeling it off your body. The cool evening air hit your skin as he tossed the top aside. His hands were greedy but reverent as they cupped your bare tits, squeezing the soft, perky flesh with a low groan.

“God… they’re even better than I imagined,” he whispered hotly against your lips before breaking the kiss to duck his head down. His mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hungrily while his hand kneaded the other breast. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly before he sucked harder, moaning against your skin. You let out a shaky moan, your hand flying to the back of his head, fingers threading through his soft dark hair and gripping tight as pleasure shot through you.

“Mmm— Jungkook…” you moaned, back arching to push your chest further into his eager mouth. He switched to the other nipple, giving it the same wet, sloppy attention, sucking and licking like he couldn’t get enough of you. His free hand roamed down your back, squeezing your ass through your short cheer skirt while he continued worshipping your tits.

The air between you was thick with heat and desperation. After a few more moments of his mouth on your chest, you pulled his head back gently by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. Your voice came out breathy and needy. “Do you want to fuck me, Jungkook?”

His eyes widened, pupils blown with lust. He nodded so eagerly it was almost pathetic, fast, desperate little nods while his hands squeezed your waist. “Yes… fuck yes, please,” he breathed, voice hoarse and wrecked.

You smiled at his eagerness and gently pushed him down onto the soft grass. Jungkook lay back, chest heaving as he watched you with pure hunger. You stood over him for a moment, then slowly straddled his lap, knees sinking into the grass on either side of his hips. Your short cheer skirt fanned out around you as you reached down, pushing his shorts further down his thighs. His cock, still hard and slick from your mouth, rested heavy against his stomach.

You hovered above him, grinding your soaked panties against his length teasingly as you looked down at his flushed face and fogged-up glasses. Jungkook’s hands gripped your thighs tightly, fingers digging into your soft skin while he waited for you, completely at your mercy and loving every second of it.

You settled fully on top of him, your soaked panties pressing against his hard cock as you began to grind down slowly. The thick length slid between your folds through the thin fabric, the friction making you both moan. Jungkook’s hands tightened on your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin as he looked up at you with pure desperation, glasses slightly crooked on his flushed face.

“Mmm, look at you,” you purred, running your hands slowly up and down his toned chest, feeling every ridge of muscle tremble under your touch. “So hard for me already… even after I just swallowed all your cum. You really have been wanting this, haven’t you?” You rolled your hips in slow, teasing circles, pressing your clit against his cock with every movement. Soft, breathy moans fell from your lips as the pleasure built, your wetness soaking through your panties and coating his shaft.

Jungkook panted heavily beneath you, hips twitching up instinctively to meet your grinding. “Yes… fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” he groaned, voice strained. His eyes were glued to your body, watching the way your tits bounced lightly with every roll of your hips.

You moaned louder, arching your back as you dragged your hands up to your own chest. You cupped your tits, squeezing them together and playing with your nipples right above his face while you kept grinding on him. The sight made Jungkook’s cock throb hard between your thighs. Your moans mixed with his desperate pants, the wet sounds of your grinding filling the quiet evening air around you.

“Please…” he finally begged, voice cracking. “Please put it in… I need to feel you. I can’t take it anymore— I need to be inside your tight pussy. Please, baby…” You let out a soft, amused giggle at how wrecked he sounded, still grinding teasingly over him. But you took mercy on him. You reached down between your bodies, pulled your panties to the side, and lined up his thick cock with your dripping entrance. Without any more warning, you sank down onto him in one smooth, eager motion.

The stretch was intense. A loud moan tore from your throat as he filled you completely, thick and deep in one go. You didn’t ease into it, you started riding him hard and fast right away, hips slamming down roughly with every bounce. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, bordering on too much, but you loved it. Every brutal thrust sent sparks shooting up your spine as his cock dragged perfectly against your walls.

“Fuck— yes!” you cried out, bracing your hands on his chest for leverage as you rode him with wild abandon. Jungkook’s head fell back against the grass, a loud, guttural moan leaving him.

“Oh my god— you feel so fucking good,” he groaned filthily. You grabbed his big hands and yanked them up to your bouncing tits, pressing them firmly against your chest.

He immediately groped at them greedily, squeezing the soft flesh while his thumbs rubbed over your hard nipples. “Thank you… fuck, thank you,” he panted desperately between moans, voice breaking. “Your tits are so perfect— so soft. You’re riding me so good, baby. Your pussy is so tight and wet— shit, I’m losing my mind…”

You kept riding him with relentless energy, slamming your hips down over and over again. The wet, filthy sound of your pussy taking his thick cock filled the empty field as you moaned his name like a chant. “Jungkook… fuck, Jungkook—” Each bounce made your tits jiggle in his hands, your cheer skirt bunched uselessly around your waist. The stretch was perfect, his cock hitting so deep inside you that stars burst behind your eyes with every rough descent.

Feeling bold and wanting to completely ruin him, you decided to show off just how flexible you really were. You slowly extended one leg straight out to the side, then the other, sinking down into a full split on his cock. Your thighs pressed flat against the grass on either side of his body while his entire length stayed buried deep inside you.

“F-fuck—!” Jungkook whimpered loudly, the sound breaking into a desperate moan. His eyes rolled back, mouth falling open as uncontrollable whimpers and moans spilled from his lips. “Oh my god… it's so deep— I can feel everything. You’re so fucking flexible— shit, it’s too much—”

His reaction made you grin through your own moans. Your thighs started trembling from the intense stretch and the overwhelming pleasure as you began rolling your hips again in this new position, grinding and bouncing on him with short, powerful movements. “You like that, baby?” you panted, voice dripping with lust. “You like feeling how deep you can get inside my tight pussy? I bet no one’s ever taken you this deep before, have they?”

Jungkook’s hands slid down from your tits to grip your asscheeks hard. He pulled them apart roughly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he started thrusting up to meet your movements. The new angle made you both cry out. His cock drove even deeper, the head rubbing against that perfect spot inside you with every snap of his hips. Your moans grew louder and more desperate, thighs shaking violently around him as the coil in your stomach tightened unbearably. “I’m gonna cum— Jungkook, I’m so close—!” you cried out, head falling back in ecstasy.

“I’m close too,” he groaned, voice strained and breathy. His thrusts became erratic, hips snapping up harder as he chased his release. “Where… where do you want it?”

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you rode him through the building pleasure. “Inside,” you begged, voice breaking. “Please cum inside me, Jungkook. I want to feel you filling me up— please, please cum deep in my pussy.”

That was all it took. With a loud, broken moan of your name, Jungkook thrust up hard one final time and came deep inside you. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after pulse as his cock throbbed violently. The feeling of him filling you up pushed you over the edge right after him. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as your orgasm crashed through you, walls clenching and fluttering around his cock, milking every last drop while you moaned loudly, body trembling on top of him.

For a long, hazy minute, you both simply breathed together, bodies slick with sweat and still buzzing from your shared orgasm. The evening air felt cooler now against your heated skin. You eventually rolled off Jungkook with a soft, satisfied sigh, collapsing onto the grass beside him. When you turned your head to the side, you found him already staring at you. His chest was still heaving, lips parted, fogged-up glasses sitting crooked on his nose, and his dark eyes held an intensity that made your stomach flutter.

A lazy smile tugged at your lips. Your gaze slowly traveled down his body— past his toned chest, down his abs, until it landed on his cock. He was still rock hard, flushed dark red, and glistening with your combined release. A breathy giggle escaped you. “Jungkook…” you teased, voice playful but laced with surprise, “you’re still so hard.”

He let out a shaky, embarrassed laugh, one hand coming up to push his glasses back into place. His cheeks were burning, but the hunger in his eyes didn’t fade even a little. “I know,” he panted, voice hoarse and raw. “I… I want to go again. Please.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, mildly impressed by his stamina. Most guys would’ve been tapped out after that, but here he was, still throbbing, still desperate for more. You bit your lip, heat pooling low in your belly again at the thought. “Alright,” you said with a smirk, “then you’re doing the work this time, waterboy.”

Jungkook let out a low, breathless chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound was surprisingly confident. Without warning, he moved. In one fluid motion, he rolled over and flipped you onto your stomach. Strong hands gripped your hips and yanked your ass up high into the air, forcing you onto your knees with your chest and face pressed against the cool grass. You gasped at the sudden shift in position, instinctively arching your back and gripping the soft blades of grass tightly in both fists.

For a moment, he just admired the view. His large palms smoothed reverently over the curves of your ass, squeezing and kneading the plush flesh. He spread your cheeks apart slowly, groaning deeply at the sight of your puffy, cum-dripping pussy. His cock, still slick and heavy, slid up and down your slit in teasing strokes— dragging from your clit all the way back to your entrance, coating himself in your wetness but never pushing inside.

You whined loudly, growing impatient. Your hips wiggled back against him desperately, trying to tempt him, trying to force him in. “Jungkook… stop teasing me,” you begged, voice already shaking. “Put it in already—”

He didn’t make you wait any longer. In one sharp, powerful thrust, Jungkook buried every thick inch of his cock inside you. The sudden stretch made you squeak, but the sound quickly melted into a loud, broken scream of pleasure as he immediately set a brutal pace. There was nothing gentle about it. His hips slammed against your ass with wet, punishing slaps, driving his cock so deep you felt it in your stomach. Each thrust forced the air out of your lungs.

You collapsed forward even more, face turning to the side and pressed into the grass as he fucked you senseless. “Oh my god— Jungkook!” you sobbed, voice cracking with every brutal snap of his hips. The pleasure was overwhelming, almost too intense, but you craved every second of it. “It feels so good… your cock is so fucking big— you’re so deep—”

“Uh huh,” he groaned behind you, voice low and rough, completely different from the shy, stammering waterboy you knew from the sidelines. “Fuck, take it. Take all of it like a good girl.” You were shocked by the filthy dominance pouring out of him, but it only turned you on more. His hands gripped your ass tighter, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks as he pulled you back onto his cock with every thrust. The wet, obscene sounds of skin slapping skin and your dripping pussy taking him filled the empty field. Your thighs trembled violently, moans turning into broken sobs as he completely rearranged your insides.

Jungkook leaned over you, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder for better leverage while the other stayed on your ass, spreading you open so he could watch his thick cock disappear inside you over and over again. His pace never faltered, sharp, deep, and relentless. Your mind was melting. Every brutal thrust punched the air out of your lungs and turned your thoughts into complete nonsense. You were babbling incoherently into the grass, broken moans, whimpers, and half-formed words spilling from your lips as Jungkook fucked you mercilessly from behind.

“Jungkook— ahh— fuck, fuck, it’s so deep— oh my god—” you cried, voice hoarse and shaky. His hands slid from your shoulder down to the hem of your tiny cheer skirt. He fisted the red and gold fabric tightly in both hands, using it like a handle to yank your body back onto his cock with every powerful thrust. The force of his hips made your entire body jolt forward. Your tits swayed heavily back and forth beneath you, nipples brushing against the cool grass with every punishing slam. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly across the empty field.

Jungkook was panting hard behind you, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your back. His voice came out rough and breathless between thrusts. “Tell me, baby… how good does it feel?” he groaned, yanking your skirt harder to pull you deeper onto his cock.

“So fucking good!” you sobbed loudly, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It’s so deep— you’re hitting everything”

He let out a low, satisfied growl and leaned over you, hips never slowing. “Is this the best you’ve ever had?” he panted, voice dark and hungry. “Am I fucking you better than anyone else ever has?”

You nodded frantically against the grass, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. “Uh huh— uh huh— uh huh—” you cried out repeatedly, the words falling from your lips like a desperate chant with every thrust. “It’s the best— fuck, Jungkook, it’s the best I’ve ever had— no one’s ever fucked me like this—”

Your thighs were shaking violently. You were so close again, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with every deep stroke. Your walls fluttered wildly around his thick cock, gripping him desperately as your second orgasm hovered right on the edge— But suddenly, Jungkook pulled out.

You let out a loud, pitiful whine at the devastating loss, your pussy clenching around nothing. “Nooo— Jungkook, please—” you begged, voice breaking.

He didn’t leave you empty for long. In one swift movement, he flipped you onto your back. Before you could even finish your whine, he hooked one of your legs up and pressed it against your chest, folding you in half. He lined himself up and plunged back inside you in one hard, smooth thrust. You screamed in pleasure as he filled you again, the new angle letting him sink impossibly deeper.

Jungkook braced himself over you, one hand holding your leg firmly against your chest while the other gripped your hip. He immediately started driving into you again, hard, fast, and relentless. His hips snapped forward with powerful strokes, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. Your tits bounced wildly between your bodies from the force, and your face twisted in overwhelming pleasure as he fucked you straight into the grass. “Look at me,” he panted, eyes dark and wild behind his glasses. “Want to see your face while I fuck you.”

Jungkook didn’t slow down even for a second. He kept you folded beneath him, your leg pressed tightly against your chest as he drove his cock into you with deep, punishing strokes. The new position let him hit even deeper, rubbing against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. Your head fell back against the grass, mouth open in a constant stream of broken sobs and babbles.

“I love your cock— fuck, I love it so much” you cried, voice hoarse and shaking. “It’s so big… stretching me so good, Jungkook, I love how deep you are— don’t stop, please don’t stop—” Tears of overwhelming pleasure slipped down the sides of your face as you kept babbling, completely lost in the feeling of him.

Jungkook’s face hovered above yours, sweat dripping from his brow, glasses fogged and slightly crooked. His breathing was ragged and desperate as he panted, “You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, almost commanding. “Tell me. Are you gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes!” you sobbed loudly, nodding frantically. “I’m gonna cum so fucking hard Jungkook, I’m so close— please, please—”

He groaned at your words and doubled down, fucking you even harder. His hips slammed against you with sharp, relentless force, driving his thick cock as deep as physically possible with every thrust. Your thighs began to shake violently around him. The pleasure became almost too much, overwhelming every nerve in your body as the pressure built higher and higher. Suddenly, it snapped.

Your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your entire body convulsed. Your pussy clenched hard around his cock before you started squirting all over him, hot, clear fluid gushing out around his thrusting length, soaking his abs, his thighs, and the grass beneath you. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, eyes rolling back as wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you.

The feeling of you squirting around him pushed Jungkook over the edge right after you. “Fuck— I’m cumming—!” he moaned loudly, voice breaking. He buried himself as deep as he could and came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside your pulsing pussy. His cock throbbed violently with every spurt, filling you up until you felt impossibly full. He kept shallowly thrusting through both of your orgasms, panting and moaning your name like a prayer as his body shook on top of you.

Eventually, his movements slowed, then stopped. He collapsed forward, carefully letting your leg down as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Both of you were panting hard, bodies trembling and slick with sweat and other fluids, hearts racing wildly against each other. You both stayed tangled together for a long moment, breathing hard and trying to remember how to exist as normal human beings again. Jungkook’s face was still buried in your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin while his cock gave one last lazy twitch inside you. Your fingers lazily played with the damp hair at the nape of his neck as the aftershocks slowly faded.

Eventually, he lifted his head just enough to look at you. His glasses were completely fogged up and crooked, hair a total mess, and his face was flushed bright red. He looked thoroughly ruined in the best possible way. “…So,” you breathed out with a lazy, satisfied grin, still gently clenching around him. “Does the waterboy always hydrate the cheerleaders this well, or am I just special?”

Jungkook let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh and dropped his forehead against your collarbone, hiding his face as his ears turned even redder. “I— I can’t believe I just fucked you on the practice field,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “I’ve literally brought you water like fifty times and now I just… filled you up like a hydration station.”

You burst out laughing, the sound bright and airy as you gently shoved his shoulder. “Oh my god, you did not just make a hydration joke while you’re still inside me.”

He groaned, half-laughing, half-cringing as he finally pulled out of you with a wet sound that made you both wince. “I’m sorry, that was terrible. Post-nut clarity is hitting me like a linebacker and I’m apparently still an awkward nerd.”

You grinned up at him, reaching up to fix his glasses for him. “A very well-endowed awkward nerd, apparently. I think I’m gonna need a lot more water from you during games from now on.”

Jungkook shook his head, smiling shyly as he collapsed beside you on the grass, pulling you into his side. “If you keep wearing that uniform, I’m gonna need to start bringing the whole cooler.”

You snuggled closer, resting your head on his chest while the cool night air brushed over your sweaty bodies. Both of you lay there quietly for a moment, hearts still racing, before you muttered playfully: “…We should probably leave before someone finds us. Or before you get hard again and we end up christening the entire fifty-yard line.”

Jungkook let out a soft whine. “Don’t say that. I’m trying to recover here.”

You just laughed and kissed his jaw. “Too late, waterboy. Practice is definitely over.”

perm taglist ﹐ → @merakoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @littlejeanskirt @mikrokookiex @chwrryppie @sugak00kie134340 @alondra6011 @stars4kooo @namgimini @b-tangkitten

[likecatie]

WHAT HAVE I JUST READ!!! this was honestly sooo hot and wild 🔥 i absolutely adored this sooo thanks for sharing this with us all 💕

[seokbite]

PRIVATE PRACTICE | jeon jungkook ⋆ ⸝⸝

starring: sex therapist!jungkook x fem!reader

synopsis: When your boyfriend Soobin struggles to satisfy you in the bedroom, you both agree to see the city’s most sought-after sex therapist: Jeon Jungkook. Charming, confident, and dangerously skilled with his hands, Jungkook doesn’t just offer advice— he shows you exactly how it’s supposed to feel. What starts as clinical demonstrations quickly turns into something far more intense, with Soobin watching helplessly from the corner as Jungkook takes his time teaching your body pleasures your boyfriend never could.

warnings: smut mdni, masturbation, use of a vibrator, cuckholding, fingering, oral (f.rec.), unprotected sex, missionary, lotus, doggystyle, biting, ass eating (because @merakoo asked for it), ass slapping, hair pulling, rough sex, lots and lots of dirty talk, creampie, squirting, this is filthy as fuck, soobin x reader.

✶﹐word count: 10.5k

The room was quiet except for the slow, uneven sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal. You lay on your back beside Soobin, both of you staring up at the ceiling where the same faint crack in the paint had been mocking you for months now. The sheets beneath you felt sticky and warm, but the warmth wasn’t the satisfying kind that usually came after really good sex. It was just… fine. Everything lately had been fine. His hand had been gentle on your hips, his kisses soft against your neck, and when he finally came, he let out that familiar quiet groan before collapsing beside you. But you hadn’t. Not even close.

In the beginning of your relationship, the sex had been good enough to leave you content. It wasn’t mind-blowing or adventurous, but it was warm and loving and enough to make you curl into him afterward with a sleepy smile. Over the last couple of years though, things had slowly changed. The spark had dimmed into something mechanical, almost routine. You found yourself lying there more often than not, faking soft little moans so he wouldn’t feel bad, while the ache between your legs only grew more frustrated. Sometimes you wondered if he noticed how often you slipped away afterward. Tonight, you knew he did. You could feel it in the way his body had tensed just slightly when he pulled out, the unspoken awareness hanging heavy between you.

Soobin shifted beside you, the mattress dipping as he rolled over. His arm draped loosely across your waist for a moment before he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there like an apology he didn’t quite know how to voice. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispered, voice already thick and sleepy. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to sound normal.

“Goodnight,” you replied softly, turning your head just enough to brush your nose against his shoulder.

You waited in the dark, listening carefully as his breathing gradually slowed and deepened. Minutes stretched out, each one feeling longer than the last. When you were finally sure he was fully asleep, you slipped out from under his arm with practiced care, trying not to disturb the mattress too much. The cool air of the room hit your bare legs as you stood, and you padded quietly to the bedside drawer. Your fingers closed around the smooth, familiar shape of your vibrator, the one you’d come to rely on more than you wanted to admit. The weight of it in your palm felt almost comforting now.

You tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door behind you with a soft click, locking it out of habit even though Soobin was dead to the world. The small nightlight cast a gentle golden glow across the tiles as you leaned back against the sink counter. Heart still racing from the unresolved tension in your body, you hiked up the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on and parted your thighs. The moment the buzzing toy pressed against your swollen, neglected clit, a shaky exhale escaped your lips. This was never fine. This was intense, almost desperate— the sharp pleasure you craved but could no longer get from the man sleeping in the next room.

Your free hand gripped the edge of the counter as you worked the vibrator in slow, teasing circles, then faster, chasing the release that had been denied to you earlier. Your mind wandered while your hips jerked against your hand, thoughts drifting dangerously toward the crumpled business card you’d tucked away in your purse weeks ago. Jeon Jungkook. Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in couples’ intimacy issues. You’d stared at that card so many times, equal parts ashamed and curious. The glowing reviews online had mentioned how thorough he was… how hands-on.

Your thighs trembled as the pressure finally built to its peak. You bit down hard on your lip to stay quiet, eyes squeezing shut while the orgasm crashed over you in strong, pulsing waves. For a few blissful seconds, everything else disappeared— the frustration, the guilt, the growing distance between you and Soobin. Only the sharp pleasure remained. But as the high faded and you caught your breath under the dim nightlight, the reality settled back in. This couldn’t keep going on like this. Something had to change.

The next day dawned gray and quiet, the kind of overcast morning that made the apartment feel smaller than it was. You woke up before Soobin, his arm still loosely draped over your waist from the night before. For a long moment you just lay there, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling that had become an unwilling witness to so many disappointing nights. Your body still carried the faint ache of unresolved need, even after last night’s secret session in the bathroom. The memory of the vibrator’s buzz and the sharp, guilty pleasure it brought made your thighs press together under the sheets.

All day the business card burned a hole in your pocket.

You went through the motions— making coffee, answering emails, attending meetings, but your mind kept circling back to it. Should I say something? What if he gets defensive? What if he thinks I’m unhappy with him as a person and not just… this? The card felt heavy, its edges sharp against your fingertips every time you brushed your hand over your pocket. At lunch you pulled it out in the bathroom stall just to stare at the elegant black text again: Jeon Jungkook, Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in Couples’ Intimacy & Desire. Your stomach twisted with nerves and something else, something hotter and more dangerous.

By the time evening came, the anxiety had twisted into a constant, low hum beneath your skin. You cooked dinner in silence while Soobin set the table, the two of you moving around each other with the familiar, gentle choreography of a couple who had been together for years. Pasta with creamy tomato sauce, garlic bread, a simple salad, comfort food on a night that felt anything but comfortable. The apartment smelled warm and safe, yet your heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t take it anymore.

Your fork paused above your half-eaten plate, twirling a strand of pasta that you no longer had any appetite for. Soobin was talking softly about his day, something about a deadline at work, but the words barely registered. Your fingers trembled as they slipped into your pocket and pulled out the slightly creased business card. Without a word, you slid it across the wooden table until it rested beside his glass of water.

Soobin’s voice trailed off. He looked down at the card, fork hovering in mid-air for a second before he slowly set it down. The quiet clink of metal against the plate sounded impossibly loud. You held your breath, chest tight, watching his face as he picked up the card with long, elegant fingers. His eyes scanned the text once, then again, more carefully. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

You waited for confusion. For hurt. For anger, maybe. Instead, Soobin let out a long, slow sigh.

It wasn’t the frustrated kind you’d feared. It was… relief. Deep, exhausted relief. His shoulders sagged as he placed the card back on the table, turning it over once between his fingers before looking up at you. His eyes were soft, a little sad, but strangely calm.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed hard, nodding. Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “Yes. I… I know things haven’t been great. Between us. In bed. I know you’ve felt it too.”

Soobin leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He stared at the card for another long moment, then looked at you again— really looked at you. There was no defensiveness in his gaze, only a quiet acknowledgment that made your throat tighten.

“I have,” he admitted, voice low. “I’ve felt it for months. Every time I touch you and you don’t… every time you make those little sounds like you’re trying to spare my feelings.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile that broke your heart a little. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to think I don’t want you anymore, because I do. So fucking much. I just… I don’t know how to fix it.”

The honesty in his words made your eyes sting. You reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. For the first time in a long time, it felt like you were really seeing each other again. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not,” you whispered. “I think… maybe we need help. Real help. From someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Soobin glanced back down at Jungkook’s name on the card. His thumb brushed over the printed letters almost absentmindedly. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “If you’re sure you want to do this… then I’m in. We’ll do it together.”

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, a strange mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in your stomach. The decision was made. The appointment would be made.

The waiting room of Jeon Jungkook’s private practice was quieter than you expected. Soft ambient music played low in the background, something instrumental and soothing that did little to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You sat on a sleek gray couch beside Soobin, your hand resting loosely in his lap while his thumb brushed slow, absentminded circles over your knuckles. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and clean linen. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in natural light, but the tension in your chest made everything feel slightly unreal.

You had been nervous all morning. The drive here had been mostly silent, both of you lost in your own thoughts, but now that you were actually here, sitting in this elegant, minimalist office, the nerves had twisted into something sharper. A low, thrilling hum of excitement sat right beneath the anxiety. Your thighs pressed together under your sundress as you replayed the glowing reviews in your head. Thorough. Transformative. Life-changing.

Ten minutes felt like an eternity.

Every time you heard footsteps in the hallway, your breath would catch, only for the sound to fade again. Soobin squeezed your hand gently, offering a small, reassuring smile, but you could see the same mixture of uncertainty and hope in his eyes. He looked handsome today in his button-up shirt, but even that familiar sight couldn’t stop the restless energy buzzing under your skin.

Finally, the door opened.

Jeon Jungkook stepped inside, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt.

He was stunning. Easily one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with a quiet, confident grace that immediately filled the room. His black hair was slightly tousled, falling over his forehead in a way that looked effortlessly perfect. Sharp jawline, full lips, and dark, piercing eyes framed by long lashes. He wore a fitted black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing tattoos that disappeared beneath the fabric, and tailored slacks that accentuated his powerful thighs. The subtle scent of his cologne, something woody and expensive, reached you as he closed the door behind him.

You couldn’t stop staring.

Jungkook didn’t speak right away. He crossed the room and settled into the large leather chair across from you, clipboard in hand. For several long minutes he simply read over his notes, his expression calm and focused. The silence was heavy. You found yourself tracing the line of his neck, the way his fingers held the pen with quiet strength, the faint flex of muscle in his forearm as he turned a page. Heat crept up your neck. Soobin shifted beside you, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man in front of you.

After what felt like forever, Jungkook finally looked up.

His eyes met yours first, then shifted to Soobin. A small, professional smile curved his lips, warm, but with something unreadable flickering behind it. “Hello,” he said, voice smooth and low, like velvet dragged over stone. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. Thank you for waiting. I’ve reviewed the intake forms you filled out online.” He set the clipboard on his lap and leaned back slightly, giving you both his full attention. “So… why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. Soobin gave your hand another squeeze, silently encouraging you to start. Your voice came out softer than intended as you began to speak.

You told him everything. How the sex had been good in the beginning, warm, loving, safe. How over the past couple of years it had slowly become routine and unsatisfying. You described lying beneath Soobin, faking soft moans while your body remained tense and frustrated. The mechanical rhythm, the lack of real spark, the growing ache that no amount of “fine” could satisfy. You mentioned slipping away to the bathroom at night with your vibrator, chasing the intense pleasure your boyfriend could no longer give you. Your cheeks burned as you spoke, but Jungkook’s gaze never wavered. He listened with complete focus, occasionally nodding or jotting something down on his clipboard.

Soobin chimed in quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability. He admitted feeling the distance growing between you two. How he could sense you weren’t fully there with him anymore, how guilty it made him feel, how much he still wanted you but didn’t know how to reach you the way he used to. He spoke about the pressure of wanting to please you and constantly falling short.

Jungkook listened intently the entire time.

His dark eyes flicked between the two of you, absorbing every word. Every so often he would write something down in neat, precise strokes, his pen moving across the paper with a soft scratch that somehow felt intimate in the quiet room. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer empty reassurances. He simply absorbed it all, head slightly tilted, expression thoughtful and impossibly focused. You found yourself wondering what exactly he was writing. What he was thinking. Whether he could already picture exactly how to fix what was broken between you.

When you both finally fell silent, the room felt heavier than before. Your heart was racing, thighs warm, a traitorous pulse beating between your legs as you watched Jungkook tap his pen against the clipboard once, twice, before setting it down.

“I appreciate how open you’ve both been so far,” he began, eyes flicking between you and Soobin. “But to truly help, I need to understand the specifics. The details matter. How often do you have sex currently? How long do your sessions usually last, from start to finish? And most importantly… what does it actually look like when you’re together?”

You felt heat bloom across your chest and climb up your neck. Soobin’s hand tightened slightly around yours, his palm growing warmer. Jungkook waited patiently, giving you both space, but his dark eyes were sharp, missing nothing. When neither of you spoke immediately, he continued gently, guiding the conversation. “Let’s start with positions,” he said, tone professional yet undeniably intimate. “What positions do you usually use? Do you switch often? How does foreplay factor in— duration, techniques? And how long does penetration usually last before one or both of you finishes?”

The questions landed heavily in the quiet room. You swallowed, mouth dry, your sundress suddenly feeling too thin against your skin. Jungkook’s gaze settled on you expectantly, patient but commanding. There was something about the way he looked at you— focused, knowing, like he could already see the frustration coiled tight in your body, that made your pulse throb between your legs.

You took a shaky breath and forced the words out, voice barely above a whisper at first. “We… we mostly just do missionary,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “It’s what feels most natural for us, I guess. Comfortable. Soobin on top, me on my back. Sometimes I’ll ride him, cowgirl, but not very often. And when I do… there’s not much vigor to it. I get tired quickly, or it just doesn’t feel… right.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, writing something down in those neat strokes. The scratch of his pen seemed louder than it should have been. He didn’t look surprised or judgmental. Instead, his expression remained thoughtfully neutral, though you swore you caught the faintest flicker of something darker, interest, perhaps, behind his eyes.

“And how long does it usually last?” he asked, voice smooth. “From the moment clothes come off to when it’s over. Be honest.”

Soobin cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably beside you. His ears had turned pink. “Maybe… ten to fifteen minutes?” he offered quietly. “Sometimes less. I try to hold out, but…”

You squeezed his hand, both ashamed and relieved to finally say it aloud. “It’s not that it’s bad,” you added quickly, though the words felt hollow even to you. “It’s just… short. And always the same. Missionary with him above me, moving steadily until he finishes. I rarely do on my own during it. When I ride him, I try to move, but it feels awkward. Like I don’t know how to make it feel good for either of us anymore. There’s no real… intensity. No roughness. No experimentation.”

Jungkook listened with complete focus. His full lips pressed together in thought as he processed your words. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, closing some of the distance between you. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm, masculine, expensive. “No oral?” he asked calmly. “No doggy style? No standing positions, no restraints, no toys during sex together? You mentioned using a vibrator alone at night, does Soobin ever use it on you? Or watch you use it?”

Each question felt like a layer being peeled back. You squirmed in your seat, painfully aware of the growing wetness between your thighs. The way Jungkook spoke, so direct, so clinical, yet dripping with unspoken promise, made your mind race with images you knew you shouldn’t be having in this moment. Him. Those tattooed arms. That confident grip. Showing you exactly what you’d been missing.

Soobin shook his head slowly. “We’ve tried oral a few times, but… it doesn’t last long. And no, we’ve never really done any of the other stuff. It just never felt necessary before. Or maybe we didn’t know how.”

You nodded in agreement, biting your lip. “It’s always been vanilla. Safe. But now it feels too safe. Too… predictable. I love him. I do. But I lie there wondering if this is just how it’s going to be forever.”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary before he wrote a few more lines. The silence that followed was thick with tension. He finally set the pen down and looked at you both, his expression composed but carrying an undeniable edge of authority. “I understand,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “You’re stuck in a very narrow script. Missionary and occasional cowgirl with minimal energy or variation, that explains a lot about the frustration you’re both feeling. Your bodies have adapted to routine. Comfort has replaced desire.”

Jungkook set his clipboard aside completely now, the soft thud of it hitting the side table sounding final. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and fixed both of you with a steady, intense gaze. The professional mask was still there, but something sharper and more commanding lingered just beneath it.

“I’ve heard enough to see the pattern clearly,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Words and explanations can only go so far. At this point, the most effective way for me to help is through demonstration. I’d like to show Soobin exactly how to touch you, how to build real desire, and how to awaken the parts of your body that have been neglected.”

He let the words settle in the heavy silence of the room before turning his full attention to you. “I won’t do anything without your explicit consent,” Jungkook continued, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “This would involve me touching you directly while Soobin watches. I’ll start slow. I’ll show him how to kiss you, how to touch you, how to read your body’s responses. If at any point you want to stop, you say the word and everything ends immediately.”

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest. Heat flooded your face, your neck, and lower. You could feel Soobin’s hand tense in yours, his breathing shallow beside you. For a long moment, the only sound was the soft ambient music and the rush of blood in your ears.

Jungkook waited patiently, giving you time. His gaze never wavered— calm, confident, and impossibly magnetic. You swallowed hard, throat dry. Nervous energy twisted in your stomach, but underneath it, something hotter and more dangerous stirred. A deep, aching curiosity. Excitement. “Yes,” you whispered, voice barely audible at first. Then stronger, “Yes… I want that.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. He glanced at Soobin. “And you? Are you comfortable with me demonstrating on your girlfriend while you observe?”

Soobin hesitated for only a second, then gave a slow nod, his cheeks flushed. “If she wants it… then yes.” Jungkook stood up smoothly, moving with that quiet, predatory grace. He crossed the short distance between his chair and the wide, plush chaise lounge where you and Soobin were seated. He extended his hand to you.

“Come here,” he said softly. “Lie back and get comfortable.”

Your legs felt unsteady as you stood. Soobin released your hand, and you moved to the chaise, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could both hear it. You lay back against the soft cushions, your sundress riding up slightly against your thighs. Jungkook sat on the edge beside you, the heat of his body immediately noticeable. He was so close now. The scent of his cologne, the faint warmth radiating from his broad frame, the way his button-up shirt stretched across his chest, it was overwhelming.

He looked down at you, eyes dark and focused. “Relax for me,” he murmured. “We’re going to start very slow.” Jungkook leaned in, one hand gently brushing your hair away from your neck. His breath ghosted over your skin first, sending shivers racing down your spine. Then his lips pressed softly just below your ear. The kiss was feather-light at first, warm, deliberate. He took his time, kissing down the sensitive column of your neck with slow, lingering presses of his mouth. Each one felt intentional, like he was learning the map of your reactions.

A shaky exhale left your lips. Your eyes fluttered half-closed as he kissed lower, finding the spot where your neck met your shoulder and sucking gently. The wet heat of his tongue traced a small circle there, and your back arched instinctively. One of his hands slid up your side, slow and confident, until his large palm cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your dress. He squeezed gently, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing strokes until it hardened under his touch.

“See how she responds when you take your time?” Jungkook said quietly, speaking to Soobin without pulling his mouth away from your neck. His voice had dropped even lower. “Don’t rush straight to the obvious places. Build it. Make her feel wanted.”

He kneaded your breast with just the right amount of pressure, rolling your nipple between his fingers over your dress, while his mouth continued its slow exploration of your neck and collarbones. Soft, open-mouthed kisses. The occasional gentle scrape of teeth that made your thighs press together. Your breathing had already grown uneven, small sounds escaping you that you didn’t even try to hold back.

Jungkook’s free hand rested on your waist, holding you in place as he shifted slightly closer. The weight and warmth of him beside you made your head spin. Every touch was precise, controlled, and devastatingly effective. You could already feel yourself getting wet, arousal pooling between your legs far faster than it ever did with Soobin.

Soobin sat quietly in the chair nearby, eyes wide and fixed on every movement. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, breathing audible. Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at your face, his thumb still lazily circling your nipple. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “How does that feel?” he asked you, voice husky. “Be honest.”

You could barely form words. Your neck tingled where his mouth had been, your breast warm and heavy under his hand. “It feels… really good,” you breathed, cheeks burning.

A satisfied smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured, leaning back down. “Then let’s continue.” Jungkook’s hands moved with deliberate confidence as he sat up slightly on the edge of the chaise. His dark eyes never left your face, reading every flicker of nervousness and arousal that crossed it. “Let’s remove this,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring. “I want you to feel everything without barriers.”

His fingers found the hem of your sundress, slowly sliding it upward. The fabric whispered against your skin as he lifted it inch by inch, exposing your thighs, then your hips, then the soft curve of your stomach. You raised your arms obediently, heart hammering against your ribs. With one smooth, practiced motion, Jungkook pulled the dress up and over your head, leaving your hair slightly tousled. He set the garment aside neatly on a nearby chair, his gaze roaming over your body now clad only in your bra and matching underwear.

The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed skin, making you shiver. You felt incredibly vulnerable under their combined stares— Soobin’s wide-eyed and tense from his seat, and Jungkook’s dark, hungry, yet still controlled. Jungkook hummed softly in approval, his large hands returning to your body immediately.

He leaned down again, lips finding your neck once more. This time his kisses were deeper, more possessive, sucking gently at your pulse point while one hand cupped your breast through the thin lace of your bra. His thumb brushed over your nipple in slow, teasing circles, coaxing it to a stiff peak. He kneaded the soft flesh with just the right pressure, firm enough to make you arch into his touch, but never rushed.

“Watch how I’m touching her,” Jungkook said quietly to Soobin, his mouth still hovering against your heated skin. “Don’t just grab. Mold her breast in your palm like this… feel its weight. Use your thumb to tease her nipple until it’s sensitive. Her body is already responding, see how her breathing changed? That’s what you want.”

You let out a shaky whimper as he emphasized his words by pinching your nipple lightly through the fabric, rolling it between his fingers. Pleasure shot straight down between your legs. Jungkook continued kissing down your collarbone, occasionally glancing toward Soobin to explain, his voice smooth and instructional even as his hands worked magic on your body.

After several long, indulgent minutes of kissing and caressing your breasts, Jungkook’s hand began to travel lower. His palm smoothed down your stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of your underwear. He looked up at you, eyes intense. “Still okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded quickly, biting your lip. “Yes…”

With your permission, his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties. The first touch of his fingers against your bare, heated skin made you gasp. You were already slick with arousal, embarrassingly wet from everything he’d done so far. Jungkook’s middle and ring fingers found your swollen clit and began rubbing slow, lazy circles over it.

“Fuck… she’s soaked,” he murmured, almost to himself, though loud enough for Soobin to hear. His fingers moved with expert precision, not too fast, not too light, applying perfect pressure as he circled your clit again and again. “This is key, Soobin. Don’t rush to penetrate her. Spend time here. Learn exactly how she likes to be touched. Feel how her hips are already trying to follow my hand?”

Your thighs trembled. Soft, needy sounds spilled from your lips as Jungkook continued the torturously slow rubbing. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in your lower belly. Every circle of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure racing through you. He kept his mouth on your neck and chest the entire time, kissing and gently biting while his hand worked between your legs.

After several drawn-out minutes of this, Jungkook shifted slightly. He used two fingers to pull your soaked panties to the side, fully exposing you. Without warning, he slowly pushed one thick finger inside you, then a second, stretching you open with delicious care. A broken moan escaped your throat. Your back arched off the chaise as his fingers sank deeper, curling slightly to find that sensitive spot inside you. Jungkook groaned softly in approval at how tightly you clenched around him.

“See that?” he said to Soobin, voice huskier now. “She’s gripping my fingers so tightly. This is what happens when you take the time to arouse her properly. Slide in slowly… curl them like this… and listen to the sounds she makes.” He began thrusting his fingers in and out in long, deep strokes, his thumb returning to rub circles over your clit at the same time. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the building pleasure while Soobin watched every single movement with flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Jungkook’s eyes flicked back to your face, watching you intently as he fingered you with steady, devastating skill. “You’re doing so well,” he praised softly, pumping his fingers deeper. “Let me hear you.”

Jungkook’s fingers moved with growing intensity, thrusting deeper and faster into your soaked pussy. The wet, obscene sounds of his thick fingers pumping in and out filled the room, mixing with your increasingly loud moans. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your head fell back against the chaise as shameless whimpers and cries spilled from your lips. “Ah— fuck… Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, your voice breaking on his name. Your fingers dug desperately into his muscular arm, gripping the hard bicep through his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. Your hips bucked up to meet every thrust, chasing the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you so effortlessly. “Oh my god… it feels so good—”

“That’s it,” Jungkook praised, his voice low and rough. “Let it out. Don’t hold back for me.” His fingers curled perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every stroke, faster now, more relentless. The wet squelching sounds grew louder as your arousal coated his hand and dripped down between your thighs.

Your moans turned into desperate, breathy cries. Your thighs trembled violently around his wrist as the pleasure built higher and higher, far beyond anything you’d felt in months.

Jungkook suddenly slowed his fingers, keeping them buried deep inside you, and shifted his position. He moved onto his knees on the chaise, spreading your legs wider with his free hand. He looked over at Soobin, eyes dark with lust but still carrying that instructional tone. “I’m going to eat her out while I keep fingering her,” he told Soobin calmly. “This combination is extremely effective. Watch how I use my tongue.”

You whimpered at his words alone, already anticipating what was coming. Jungkook hooked his fingers under the waistband of your soaked panties and pulled them down your legs, tossing them aside. Completely exposed now, you shivered under his gaze.

He leaned down between your spread thighs, face inches from your dripping pussy. Without warning, he spat directly onto your swollen hole, the warm saliva landing right at your entrance. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation. Jungkook used two fingers to spread the spit around, mixing it with your own wetness, before pushing his fingers back inside you.

Then his tongue was on you. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as his warm, wet tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your pussy before focusing on your clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth while his fingers continued thrusting in and out of you, faster than before. Then he did exactly what he’d described, he fucked the spit into your hole with his tongue, pushing it inside you alongside his fingers in messy, obscene strokes.

You were on cloud nine.

“Fuck—! Jungkook— oh my fucking god—” you cried out, voice loud and unrestrained. Your back arched sharply off the chaise as intense pleasure crashed through your body. Your hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his soft dark hair, gripping tightly as his tongue fucked into you deeper. The wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy mixed with the filthy squelch of his fingers pumping relentlessly inside you.

Jungkook groaned against your cunt, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through you. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue and sucking hard on your clit, all while his fingers curled and stroked that perfect spot without mercy. “Soobin,” Jungkook said, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips shiny with your juices. “Come closer. Sit right next to her. She needs you here.”

Soobin moved quickly, his face flushed dark red. He sat on the edge of the chaise beside you, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook devour you. You reached out blindly, grabbing Soobin’s hand and squeezing it hard as another loud moan ripped from your throat.

“Baby— ahh— it feels so good,” you whimpered to Soobin, voice shaking. Your body thrashed under Jungkook’s skilled mouth and fingers, hips grinding desperately against his face. You gripped Soobin’s hand like a lifeline while your other hand stayed tangled in Jungkook’s hair, pulling him harder against your pussy.

Jungkook doubled down, tongue fucking into you even deeper, spitting on your cunt again before diving back in with messy, hungry strokes. His fingers never stopped their brutal pace, curling and thrusting until your moans turned into near-screams of pleasure.

You were lost in it, whimpering, moaning, and shaking uncontrollably as the man between your legs showed you exactly what your body had been missing, while you held your boyfriend’s hand through every devastating wave of pleasure.

The pleasure built to an unbearable peak as Jungkook’s tongue fucked relentlessly into your dripping hole and his fingers curled against that perfect spot inside you. Your moans turned into desperate, broken cries, growing louder and more frantic with every filthy stroke of his skilled mouth. You gripped Soobin’s hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, your other hand fisting Jungkook’s dark hair as your hips bucked wildly against his face.

Suddenly, the coil inside you snapped.

You came hard on his tongue with a loud, shuddering scream. “Jungkook—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed violently, thighs clamping around his head as powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers and tongue, gushing wetly against his mouth while he continued licking and sucking through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. Soobin’s hand stayed firmly in yours the entire time, grounding you even as you fell apart under another man’s mouth.

Jungkook worked you through every last aftershock, licking you slowly and gently until your body finally sagged against the cushions, panting and dazed. Only then did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with your cum. He looked devastatingly handsome like that, flushed, eyes dark with lust, and breathing heavily.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked between you and Soobin, voice low and husky but still controlled. “Are you both willing to continue?” he asked. “I’d like to move into demonstrating positions. The difference between what you’ve been doing and what she actually needs.”

You didn’t even hesitate. Still floating on the high of your orgasm, arousal already stirring again, you nodded eagerly. “Yes,” you breathed, almost desperately. “Please… I want more.”

Soobin swallowed hard, visibly affected by what he’d just witnessed, but he nodded as well. “If she wants it… yes.”

A satisfied, almost predatory smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured. “I’m going to fuck her raw. Skin to skin. No condom. She needs to feel the full effect, the heat, the friction, everything. Then I’ll show you, Soobin, exactly how to make missionary feel incredible for her instead of just… adequate.”

Jungkook reached behind your back with skilled fingers and unclasped your bra. He slid the straps down your shoulders slowly, savoring the moment as he pulled the lace away and dropped it aside. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already hard and aching. He groaned softly at the sight before leaning down and capturing one nipple in his mouth.

He sucked on it hungrily, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while his large hand kneaded the soft flesh of your other breast. He switched sides, giving the same devoted attention to the other nipple, sucking harder, grazing his teeth gently, then soothing with his tongue. The wet sounds of his mouth on your breasts filled the room as you moaned and arched into him, your body responding instantly.

After several long, indulgent minutes of worshipping your chest, Jungkook finally positioned himself between your spread thighs, after kicking his pants and boxers off. He gripped his thick, hard cock in one hand, stroking it slowly as he looked down at your flushed, dripping pussy. “Watch carefully,” he told Soobin, voice rough. “This is how you claim her.”

He rubbed the swollen head of his cock up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness, before pressing against your entrance. With a low groan, Jungkook pushed forward and slid into you in one long, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, fluttering heat.

You cried out loudly at the stretch, your back arching sharply. He was big, thicker and longer than Soobin, and the raw, bare feeling of him inside you was overwhelming. “Fuck… so tight,” Jungkook growled, holding still for a moment to let you adjust. Then he pulled back almost all the way before slamming back in, setting a rough, brutal pace immediately.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room as he fucked you hard and deep. Each powerful thrust rocked your entire body, your breasts bouncing with the force of it. Jungkook’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again, the wet, filthy sounds of your pussy taking his cock filling the air. “That’s it,” he groaned, eyes locked on your face. “Take my cock. Feel how deep I am?”

Your moans were loud and unrestrained, turning into near-screams every time he bottomed out inside you. The brutal pace left you shaking, gripping the cushions beneath you as wave after wave of intense pleasure rolled through your body.

Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with possessive strength. He used your body like a personal toy, pulling you down onto his thick cock with every brutal thrust. Instead of just fucking into you, he yanked your hips forward to meet him, slamming you onto his length over and over again in a relentless rhythm. The wet, filthy sound of your soaked pussy being filled echoed loudly in the room with every powerful motion. Each time he dragged you back down, his cock buried itself impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix and sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure shooting through your entire body.

“Fuck—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and broken. Your head tossed back against the chaise, mouth falling open in a constant stream of moans and whimpers.

Jungkook glanced over at Soobin, breathing heavily but still in control. “Soobin,” he growled, never slowing the way he was manhandling you onto his cock. “Play with her clit. Rub it while I fuck her. She needs the extra stimulation.”

Soobin hesitated only for a second before leaning closer. His hand trembled slightly as he reached between your bodies and found your swollen, sensitive clit. He began rubbing slow circles over it, just like he’d watched Jungkook do earlier. The added sensation was immediate and devastating.

Your moans instantly grew louder, turning into desperate, shameless cries. “Oh my god—! It’s so good… so fucking good— Jungkook, your cock is so big— I can’t— ahh!” The words spilled out of you in a messy, nonsensical stream.

Jungkook groaned in satisfaction at your words, his pace growing even more punishing. He kept yanking your hips down onto him with raw strength, using your body exactly how he wanted. The wet slap of skin against skin was constant now, your arousal dripping down his balls and soaking the chaise beneath you. Every brutal thrust made your breasts bounce heavily, your entire body jolting with the force of him claiming you.

Soobin’s fingers kept rubbing your clit, faster now, his eyes wide and dark as he watched you fall apart. “You look so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “All fucked out… you’re glowing. So fucking pretty when you’re moaning like that.”

His words only pushed you higher. You squeezed Soobin’s hand tighter with your free one while your other hand clutched desperately at Jungkook’s forearm, nails digging into his tattooed skin. “Your dick is so big, it feels too good, I can’t think— please don’t stop—!” you babbled loudly, words slurring together between broken moans and gasps. Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as he continued to wreck you.

Jungkook smirked, dark eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction. He adjusted his angle slightly and started pounding into you even harder, pulling you onto his cock with every snap of his hips. The new position made him hit that perfect spot inside you with devastating accuracy on every thrust. Sweat glistened on his forehead and neck, his shirt now clinging to his muscular chest from exertion.

“That’s right,” he growled, voice rough and low. “Feel how deep I am? This is what your pussy needed. Not soft, polite sex. It needed to be ruined like this.”

He kept using your body ruthlessly, yanking you down onto him, grinding deep, then pulling back only to slam you onto his length again. Soobin never stopped rubbing tight, slick circles on your clit, his eyes flicking between your face and the sight of Jungkook’s thick cock disappearing inside you repeatedly.

The pleasure was blinding. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the room as another orgasm began rapidly building, even stronger than the first. Jungkook was fucking you better than you had ever been fucked in your life. The brutal pace of Jungkook’s cock slamming into you, combined with Soobin’s fingers rubbing relentless circles on your swollen clit, pushed you straight over the edge again.

Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train.

“Jungkook—! I’m cumming— fuck. ” you screamed, your voice cracking as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around his thick cock, fluttering and gushing as powerful waves of pleasure ripped through you. Your back arched sharply off the chaise, thighs shaking uncontrollably while Jungkook kept fucking you through it, dragging out every last pulse of your release. Soobin’s hand never stopped, prolonging the overwhelming sensation until you were sobbing with pleasure, tears slipping down your cheeks.

You were still twitching and gasping, trying to catch your breath, when Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you with a wet sound. Before you could even whimper at the loss, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing.

He turned and sat down on the chaise, pulling you with him so you straddled his lap facing him. He guided you down onto his cock again in one smooth motion, burying himself back inside your sensitive, fluttering pussy. This new position pressed your bodies flush together, chest to chest, your knees bent on either side of his hips.

“This is called the lotus position,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice deep and slightly breathless as he held you firmly on his cock. “It’s intimate. She’s completely wrapped around me, which lets me hit every sensitive spot inside her. The closeness increases stimulation on her clit and lets her control the depth and rhythm while I guide her. It feels incredible for her because she’s full and every movement grinds right against her g-spot.”

You barely had time to process his words before your body took over. Still trembling from your last orgasm, you started moving on him, slow at first, then faster, rolling and bouncing on his thick length with desperate need. The new angle made him feel even deeper, pressing against places you didn’t even know existed.

“Ahh! Jungkook!” you sobbed, pleasure bordering on too much. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shirt as you rode him. Your head tipped back, mouth open in a constant stream of broken moans and cries. “It’s so deep… so fucking deep, oh my god.”

Tears continued slipping down your flushed cheeks as you moved faster, chasing the overwhelming pleasure. Your breasts bounced heavily with every roll of your hips, pussy swallowing his cock again and again with wet, obscene sounds.

Jungkook groaned deeply, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. He kneaded the soft, plump flesh roughly, spreading your cheeks as he helped guide you up and down on his cock. Then— smack, his palm came down hard on your right cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. You cried out at the sting, clenching tighter around him. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, slapping your ass again, harder this time. “Ride me just like that. Use my cock.”

He buried his face between your bouncing tits, sucking one nipple into his hot mouth while his hands continued kneading and spanking your ass in rhythm with your movements. He groaned against your skin, tongue swirling and teeth grazing as he devoured you.

You were lost in it— sobbing, moaning, and babbling nonsense while you rode him with everything you had.Your head stayed tipped back, eyes half-lidded and glassy with overwhelming pleasure as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. Soobin watched everything in stunned silence from just inches away, eyes dark and fixed on the way your body moved on Jungkook’s cock and how his hands owned your ass.

Jungkook pulled his mouth from your nipple just long enough to look up at your pleasure-drunk face, voice rough with lust. “That’s my good girl… Keep fucking yourself on me. Let him see how pretty you look when you’re falling apart.”

You were completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, rolling your hips desperately on Jungkook’s thick cock in this position. Your voice had grown hoarse from moaning, but his name still fell from your lips like a prayer. “Jungkook… Jungkook— fuck, Jungkook—” you whimpered repeatedly, your head tipped back and eyes glazed over.

Jungkook pulled his face from your breasts, lips shiny, and looked up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. His hands squeezed your ass firmly as he held you down on his cock, grinding up into you slowly. “What is it, pretty girl?” he asked, voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips. “What do you need? Tell me. Use your words.”

You sobbed softly, still moving on him, drunk on the feeling of being so full. “I want it from behind,” you begged, voice shaky and desperate. “Please… I want you to fuck me from behind.”

Jungkook let out a deep, amused chuckle that vibrated through his chest. “Greedy girl,” he murmured affectionately. Without warning, he lifted you off his cock, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. He easily maneuvered your body, turning you around on the chaise.

He guided you into position with strong, confident hands. “Soobin, sit down right here,” he instructed. Soobin obeyed, sitting on the chaise with his back against the cushions. Jungkook then pushed you forward until your face hovered just above Soobin’s lap, your elbows resting on either side of his knees. Your back was arched deeply, ass up and presented perfectly for Jungkook behind you.

You looked up at Soobin through your lashes, flushed and breathing hard, your cheek nearly brushing against the bulge in his pants.

Instead of immediately sliding his cock into you, Jungkook knelt behind you. He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing you completely. He leaned in and sank his teeth gently into the soft flesh of your right ass cheek, biting and sucking hard enough to make you gasp sharply.

“I’m going to eat her ass now,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice calm but dripping with lust. “Most men skip this, but it feels incredible for her. It relaxes her and makes her even wetter. Watch.” Before you could fully prepare yourself, Jungkook buried his face between your cheeks.

A loud, broken cry tore from your throat the moment his warm, wet tongue licked a slow, filthy stripe over your tight hole. “Oh my god!” you screamed, your whole body jerking forward. He licked you again, slower this time, swirling the tip of his tongue around your rim before pressing it inside you.

You were crying out uncontrollably now, the pleasure intense and strangely intimate. Your hands scrambled desperately for purchase, grabbing onto Soobin’s thighs and squeezing hard as Jungkook devoured your ass with filthy enthusiasm. He groaned against your skin, the vibrations making your eyes roll back.

His tongue pushed deeper, fucking into your tight hole with wet, obscene sounds while one of his hands reached underneath to rub firm circles on your clit. He alternated between long, broad licks and pointed thrusts of his tongue, eating you like a man starved. Every stroke sent jolts of sharp, dirty pleasure racing up your spine. “Fuck— Jungkook, it feels so fucking good!” you sobbed, pushing back against his face instinctively. Tears of overwhelming sensation rolled down your cheeks as you panted against Soobin’s thigh, looking up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your wet skin. “Hear how loud she gets when I eat her ass? This is what she’s been missing.” Then he dove right back in, licking and sucking even more eagerly, his face pressed fully between your cheeks as he worked you open with his skilled tongue.

Your moans and cries filled the entire room, shameless and loud, while your hands gripped Soobin’s thighs like a lifeline, trembling as Jungkook continued. Jungkook didn’t rush. He kept his face buried between your spread cheeks, devouring you with slow, filthy dedication. His tongue swirled and probed at your tight rim, licking long stripes from your dripping pussy up to your asshole before pushing inside again. Every time his tongue fucked into your ass, a fresh wave of overwhelming pleasure crashed through you, making your back arch deeper and your fingers dig harder into Soobin’s thighs.

Your hips pushed back against his face instinctively, chasing more of that dirty, intense sensation. He groaned deeply against your skin, the vibration traveling straight through you as he continued with even more enthusiasm. He spread your cheeks wider with both hands, fully exposing you, and spat directly onto your hole before diving back in, licking and sucking like he couldn’t get enough.

Minutes stretched out in a haze of pleasure. Jungkook took his time, alternating between broad, sloppy licks and sharp, pointed thrusts of his tongue deep inside you. One of his hands stayed between your legs, rubbing slow, firm circles on your swollen clit while the other kneaded and slapped your ass cheek occasionally, the sharp smacks making you jolt and moan louder. You were a mess, sobbing, whimpering, and shaking as he continued rimming you relentlessly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again without ever letting you tip over.

Only when your legs were trembling uncontrollably and your cries had turned into constant, desperate begging did Jungkook finally pull back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose onto his knees behind you, his voice rough with lust as he spoke to Soobin. “Now I’m going to fuck her from behind. Hard. This position lets me go deeper and gives me full control.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt the thick, blunt head of Jungkook’s cock pressing against your soaked entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, stretching you open around his thick length.

A loud, broken scream tore from your throat. "Fuck yes!" He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He immediately set a brutal, punishing pace, slamming into you hard and deep. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoed loudly through the room with every thrust. He gripped your hips tightly, yanking you back onto his cock over and over again, using your body exactly how he wanted.

“Fuck— so tight,” he growled, voice low and strained.

Every brutal snap of his hips drove his cock impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix with every stroke. Your elbows trembled as you tried to hold yourself up, face buried against Soobin’s thigh while your moans and cries grew louder and more broken. Jungkook reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back slightly so your back arched even more for him.

“You like that?” he groaned, pounding into you mercilessly. “You like being fucked like a little toy from behind?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck— Jungkook!” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. The angle was devastating. Every thrust ground against that perfect spot inside you, making your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, soaking him with every rough stroke as he continued to rail you without mercy.

Jungkook’s pace was relentless, hard, fast, and animalistic. The wet, filthy sound of your arousal squelching around his cock mixed with the sharp slap of skin on skin. He kept one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks, pulling you back onto him with every thrust like he was trying to bury himself even deeper.

Jungkook continued pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping against your ass with a loud, rhythmic slap. Your moans were constant and broken, your body jolting forward with every brutal thrust while your face stayed pressed against Soobin’s thigh. Jungkook’s grip on your hips was iron-tight, fingers digging into your skin as he used you relentlessly.

He slowed his thrusts just enough to speak, his voice rough and commanding, yet still instructional. “Soobin,” he said, breathing heavily. “Grab her hips. Both hands. I want you to help move her back and forth on my cock. Feel how she takes me. Learn the rhythm she needs.”

Soobin hesitated for a moment, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook’s thick cock disappear inside you again and again. His cheeks were flushed dark red, but after a few seconds, he leaned forward and placed his hands on your hips, right beside Jungkook’s.

“That’s it,” Jungkook encouraged, still buried deep inside you. “Pull her back onto me when I thrust forward. Help her fuck herself on my cock. She loves it deep like this.”

Soobin’s hands tightened on your hips. At first his grip was gentle, almost uncertain, but as Jungkook started moving again, Soobin began pulling you back onto Jungkook’s cock in time with his thrusts. The added force made Jungkook’s cock slam even deeper inside you.

A loud, broken cry ripped from your throat. “Oh my god!” you sobbed, eyes squeezing shut as the new sensation overwhelmed you. Soobin’s familiar hands pulling you back combined with Jungkook’s massive cock stretching and ruining you created an intensity you’d never felt before. Every time Soobin yanked your hips back, Jungkook’s thick length drove into you harder, filling you completely.

Jungkook groaned in approval. “Good. Harder, Soobin. She can take it. Look how her pussy is gripping me every time you pull her back.”

Soobin’s grip grew firmer, more confident. He started pulling your hips back with more strength, helping impale you on Jungkook’s cock over and over again. The wet, filthy sounds grew even louder — the obscene squelching of your soaked pussy mixed with the sharp slap of skin whenever your ass met Jungkook’s hips.

You were falling apart between them.

“Fuck— fuck— it’s so deep!” you cried out, voice muffled against Soobin’s thigh. Your hands clutched desperately at Soobin’s legs, nails digging into his pants as your body was rocked between the two men. “Jungkook’s cock is so big… Soobin, baby, he’s so deep inside me— I can’t”

Jungkook kept a steady, brutal pace while Soobin pulled you back onto him with every thrust. The dual control over your body made you feel completely used, a toy being shared between them. Jungkook’s cock kissed your cervix with every forceful pull, stretching your walls perfectly around his thickness. “That’s it,” Jungkook growled, one hand moving up to grip the back of your neck while Soobin continued manipulating your hips. “Feel how she’s dripping down my cock? She’s fucking loving this. Pull her harder, Soobin. Make her take every inch.”

Soobin obeyed, his fingers pressing deeper into your soft hips as he yanked you back more forcefully. The new intensity made your eyes roll back, loud, shameless moans spilling from your lips as Jungkook fucked you raw and Soobin helped drive you onto him again and again. You were trembling violently, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face, caught in the devastating rhythm the two of them created together.

The combined rhythm was absolutely devastating. Jungkook’s thick cock slamming into you while Soobin pulled your hips back with increasing confidence created a merciless, perfect storm of pleasure. Your moans had turned into constant, broken sobs as your body was rocked between them.

Jungkook’s breathing grew harsher, his thrusts becoming more erratic and deeper. “Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, gripping your hip tighter while Soobin continued helping pull you back onto his cock. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.”

You could only whimper in response, your mind hazy with overwhelming pleasure. Jungkook’s pace turned punishing, slamming into you with short, brutal strokes as he chased his release. With a deep, guttural groan, Jungkook buried himself to the hilt inside you and came hard. You felt every powerful pulse as he emptied himself deep inside your pussy, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your walls. He kept grinding into you, pushing his load even deeper while growling your name under his breath.

The feeling of Jungkook cumming so deep inside you triggered your own orgasm instantly. Jungkook’s grip on your neck tightened as he pounded into you even harder. “That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock. Let go.”

The pressure built impossibly high, tighter and hotter, until it finally snapped. You came harder than you ever had in your life. A loud, guttural scream tore from your throat as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around Jungkook’s cock, and then you were squirting, hard. Clear, hot liquid gushed out around his thick cock with every thrust, soaking his hips, dripping down your thighs. You shook uncontrollably, sobbing and moaning as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through you. Jungkook didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging it until your vision went white and your legs gave out completely.

“Fuck, look at her,” Jungkook groaned, voice rough with satisfaction. “She’s squirting everywhere. Good girl… such a messy, beautiful girl.”

Your body finally went limp, trembling with aftershocks as Jungkook slowed his thrusts and eventually stilled deep inside you. He stayed buried in your pulsing heat for a long moment, letting you feel every inch of him while you tried to catch your breath. Soobin’s hands gently rubbed your hips, soothing the marks he’d left behind.

Jungkook eventually pulled out slowly, a rush of your combined juices dripping from your ruined pussy. He helped you collapse gently onto the chaise, turning you onto your back so you could breathe easier. Your chest heaved, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed, and eyes glassy with exhaustion and satisfaction.

Jungkook sat back on his heels, breathing heavily but looking pleased. He glanced at Soobin, then down at your spent body. “That,” he said calmly, “is what she needs. Not just gentle, loving sex. She needs to be fucked properly, deeply, roughly, and without hesitation. She needs variety. She needs to be used and worshipped at the same time.” He looked at you softly. “How do you feel?”

You could barely speak, still floating. “Incredible…” you whispered hoarsely. “I’ve never… felt anything like that.”

Jungkook smiled, then turned back to Soobin. “You did well today. Helping move her like that was a great start. We’ll work on building your confidence and skill. This was only the first session.”

He helped you sit up eventually, handing you a soft towel and a bottle of water from a nearby table. While you recovered, he spoke to both of you about aftercare, communication, and homework, things for Soobin to practice at home before the next appointment.

As you slowly got dressed, your legs still shaky, you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Jungkook. The memory of how he had completely ruined you while Soobin watched was burned into your mind. Soobin was quiet, but he stayed close to you, gently rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to your temple. There was a new tension in the air, something shifted between all three of you.

Before you left, Jungkook leaned against his desk, arms crossed, looking unfairly composed and handsome. “Book your next session soon,” he said with a small, knowing smirk. “We still have a lot to work on… and I think you both know now how much she needs it.”

You left the office leaning on Soobin’s arm, body sore in the most delicious way, your mind already replaying everything that had happened… and wondering how much further Jungkook would take you next time.

perm taglist ﹐ → @merakoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @littlejeanskirt @mikrokookiex @chwrryppie @sugak00kie134340 @alondra6011 @stars4kooo @namgimini @b-tangkitten @celliez @kyljjk @lovingkoalaface @unbibiased

[kikiskook]

✿ where flowers don’t grow ✿

the garden is dying, and no one is watching.

Two years after your husband’s death, you receive a gift from your family: an android version of him, programmed to help you process grief. But Jungkook had secrets—and so did you. And no one warned the machine what love looks like when it’s wilted, when it’s already buried. Not every resurrection is a miracle.

pairing: jungkook x reader · second person pov

genre: angst · smut · psychological · metaphors · symbolism

warnings: grief, suicidal ideation, cheating (past), existential themes, android/human conflict, poetic language

rating: mature (18+)

status: completed · multi-part

word count: ~38,749 words

tag: #wfdg | moodboard

✿ chapter index

chapter one — daedelus dreams (3.1k)

chapter two — apollo’s garden (4.4k)

chapter three — when light touches (3.4k)

chapter four — embracing flames (4.5k)

chapter five — drunk on starlight (3.4k)

chapter six — wings of wax and want (4.1k)

chapter seven — the spontaneous flare (5.1k)

chapter eight — sun-touched (6.9k)

chapter nine — falling to earth (3.9k)

🎧 listen to the official playlist — read with headphones. icarus fell for less.

💬 feedback and tags always welcome · reblogs mean the world · talk to me if you cried

© jungkoode 2025 | main. @jungkoode

[raceme2hell]

IF YOU HEAR A CAT AT NIGHT, MASTERPOST

a good heart can take you surprisingly far in a city like seoul, or so you tell yourself between routines that don’t leave much room for anything else. hold the elevator, smile at the cashier, leave a little food out for a hungry cat — small beats to fight the dull city grey. so why is the pavement on your walk home suddenly stained a bloody red? and why is it only you who notices the man lying there half-dead?

pairing: jeon jeongguk x fem!reader ㆆ shaman/manshin!jeongguk. magazine editor!reader. gothic romance. psychological horror. comedy? angst. eventual fluff. mystery thriller. urban fantasy. slow burn

about: dark. mature themes. death, blood, violence & gore. codependent relationship. age gap? you’re both.. 26? asian religious themes. korean culture & history. urban decay. panic attacks. smoking & alcohol consumption. supernatural. korean mythology. shamanism. spiritual horror. rituals. more korean culture & history. dissociation. false reality. each chapter will have their respective warnings

moodboard + spotify playlist + masterlist

based off works like bts’ arirang album, disney’s alice in wonderland & neil gaiman’s neverwhere

if you hear a cat at night,

prologue: the night hears you (soon!)

chapter one: the offering is accepted

chapter two: take line 2

. . .

started: 15.05.2026 status: coming soon

taglist: open !

note: boom boom pow horror series while i have a bunch of fluff fics in my drafts because i am insane. this all started from when i did a deep dive on the cultural and historical references the boys wrote into arirang, i fell down a rabbit hole and did so much research and i hope to portray everything respectfully! my love letter to culture and history

© maison raceme2hell.

[glossy-asf]

➳❥ Synopsis: you just moved into a new apartment complex, ready to reinvent your life and finish your final year of psychology. Until… your upstairs neighbor. loud, reckless, and running a life he keeps in the shadows. He becomes impossible to ignore. everything you’d clinically diagnose as a bad idea. but the closer you get, the more you see someone trying to outrun himself. and the harder you fall, the more you realize some things can’t be fixed only felt.

❤︎ Pairing: dealer!jk x female!reader

❤︎ Genre: slow burn, upstairs neighbor, smut, angst, explicit content ( mdni )

❤︎ Warnings: explicit language, explicit content & language, drug use & dealing, drug paraphernalia.

⚠︎ PLEASE READ THIS SERIES W/ CAUTION ⚠︎

- ♡ this series includes chapters with heavy topics.

- ♡ there will be warnings on said chapters

- ♡ please take care of your mental health and don’t do drugs ♡

↳ join the taglist

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

❀ 001 : excuse you?!

❀ 002 : can you stfu.

❀ 003 : uhh are you okay?

❀ 004 : fml

❀ 005 : oh he got a friend too?

❀ 006 : this ain’t mine but I’m curious.

❀ 007 : what type of timing you on?

❀ 008 : I dont smoke random peoples weed

❀ 009 : knock knock

❀ 010 : I love my life

❀ chapters [11-??] 🔒👀

Note: heyy reader! This is my first ff so pls go easy on me 😭 I hope you enjoy what I have in store. I will most likely post 1 or 2 new chapters every week! I’m trying something new by adding a new song to describe each chapter for any readers who like to listen to music and read (like me). Enjoy reading! 💜 start date: 5/9/26

Jungkook’s Interlude:

Y/N’s Interlude:

[gukcnt]

DROWN WITH ME 𓂁 J.JK 【 MASTERLIST 】

[ 🐚 ] : stranded in an abandoned lighthouse in the middle of the ocean surrounded by blood hungry sharks, two enemies are forced from wanting to kill each other into survival, where desire slowly begins to take place between their pain and hatred, with no way to escape or call for help things grow even more terrifying when they realize they aren’t the only ones in the lighthouse, someone is sabotaging them.. almost feeding off their fears, who will strike first — the thing hunting them or their own feelings?

✶ PAIRING › shark specialist!jungkook x investigator!f.reader

✶ GENRE › survival au, forced proximity, enemies to lovers, grumpy x grumpy, dark romance, marine biologist!jungkook, forensic investigator!reader, one night stand, slowburn, psychological horror, mystery thriller, fwb, forbidden attraction, pining and yearning, love/hate relationship, crime, romance, smut, fluff, angst

✶ WARNINGS › 18+, explicit sex scenes, mature themes, emotional abuse and trauma, dark aspects, paranormal aspects, violence, blood and gore, drowning themes, shark attacks and details of injury, paranoia, panic attacks, fear play, masochism, mention of deaths, smoking and alcohol consumption, fear of love, self-harm, love confessions and confrontation, each chapter contains their individual warnings (reader discretion is advised due to the dark and potentially triggering content)

𓂃 𓆩 inspired by “does it hurt?” by h.d carlton 𓆪𓂃

✶ STATUS › to be released.

✶ TAGLIST › OPEN ꩜ .ᐟ

『 MASTERLIST | READ ON WATTPAD 』

➥ TEASER TO BE RELEASED ON JUNE 5TH ‹𝟹

© GUKCNT — all rights reserved. | divider by @/sister-lucifer

[cravetive]

𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝔽 𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 | ℂℍ. 11

| 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫.

|𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞/𝐚𝐮: 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭,𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮, 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭.

| 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

| 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.5k

| 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 ( 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬), 𝐬𝐞𝐱 ( 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 & 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

| A/N: I apologize for my delay in updating this amazing story i have been working on but i had been facing some difficulties with my work schedule. i hope you enjoy and i hope that it may not be too late.

previous chapters

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  A rose like any flower once cut from its stem can only survive a few hours before its cells begin to break down, it no longer receives water or nutrients. It slowly begins to consume itself for survival. Its petals and leaves begin to wilt, curl, dry, and droop, cell membranes degrade and tissue starts to soften the flower pigments such as anthocyanins and chlorophyll break down, leading to browning and its color eventually fading. 

What is once praised for its beauty eventually ends up being thrown away.  When it is no longer beautiful, when it is no longer valuable it is discarded, trash. 

Cell death, autolysis, microbial breakdown and eventually organic disintegration. 

In Jungkooks opinion all things living decay the same, some faster than others, some skipping a few stages. In this moment for example as he holds his breath, he imagines his body shutting down, his source of oxygen cutting off, his skin beginning to soften. 

Jin’s involuntary visit had left the solemn man more drained than before, perhaps holding onto more questions and anxiousness than before he received that which he had been hungrily seeking. It was no secret that their friendship had changed, that a distance had grown, that he attempted to ignore the fact that now, he did not know the man who sat in front of him an hour prior. 

The truth ached inside of him like a stubborn cut, it stung. An inescapable pain that now remained. 

It was bitter and stubborn. 

Perhaps it would have been better to ignore the entire ordeal after all, perhaps if he hadn't come then Jungkook could've pretended nothing had changed. 

That he hadn't changed. 

That they were still on the same side somehow. 

He could’ve avoided himself the guilt that ransacked his brain now, the possibility or the reality that Jin felt like he needed to protect you from him. Had he been that cruel?

Had you been decaying too?

“Kook” Taehyung spoke, his voice heavy whilst he leaned against the console next to the window of Jungkook’s office. If Jungkook would have lifted his gaze he would have caught the worry in Taehyung’s face which lately had been the only expression he appeared to be able to produce, along with the 6th cigarette that sat in between his fingers. 

He would’ve noticed that much like him, the stress ate away at his friend. The twitch below his right eye which he tried to rid himself of by rubbing at it aggresively. 

“Did he leave?” Jungkook holds his gaze against the empty cup in front of him, the only thing keeping the room from spinning around him, an anchor. 

“Yes but how do we know he wont go and tell her we know where she is now?” Taehyung responds, more like complaining. 

“Because” Jungkook starts, adjusting his slumped posture. Holding his mouth shut for a moment too long.  

“Because?” Taehyung questions, agitated. 

Jungkook doesn't say what he really wants to say, he doesn't want to tell Taehyung that he thinks he owes Jin trust even after all that has happened, after all that he has done. He does not say that there is still loyalty that remains in his chest for his old friend, that he would feel like a load of shit  if he didn't at least expect Jin not to speak to you about this meeting because he knows it's stupid, he knows it's illogical.

“Much like i desperately seek her safety i have no doubt in my mind he does too”.

Taehyung huffs, sliding the cigarette between his lips and taking a drag, neither of them say what they really want to say, how jungkook wants to tell Taehyung to have a bit of faith despite their friend's betrayal, how Taehyung wants to call him an idiot. 

“So what now?” Taehyung throws another question in the air that Jungkook can't bring himself to answer rationally.

“I'll go tell some of the boys and we can head there right now” Taehyung decides, throwing his half burnt cigarette into an ash tray nearby.

“No” Jungkook replies quickly, desperately. 

“No?” Taehyung furrows his eyebrows, his anxious demeanor speaking for him. 

“Im going alone.”

Taehyung goes through 3 stages of emotions at that moment. At first, he laughs - his cackles loud and obnoxious, he dares to bend over and hold his belly. When one is tired, things tend to be more funny. When his cackles die down and he allows himself to look at Jungkook clearly, at his determined expression his lips which had been pulled into a smile then fall quickly, confusion wrapping itself between his eyebrows. 

“Alone?”

Then the annoyance takes over, the frown he forms overtaking both his expression and his posture, which is now stiff and unmoved. He feels his feet dig themselves harshly onto the ground below him. 

“Have you completely lost your fucking mind?” 

Taehyung wishes his voice boomed louder so that perhaps his tone would deter the man who sat solemnly in front of him. 

Jungkook sighs and his eyes leave the glass, the room begins to spin and he grows dizzy, his hands coming to cover his face in contemplation. 

“It wasn't a request Taehyung” Jungkook snaps, wishing his voice didn't carry so much disdain. 

“Jungkook” Taehyung lowers his voice, brushing his hand against his face and holding his breath for a moment. He really wants to scream, he wants to jump over the table and slap some sense into him but he doesn't think that method would get him anywhere. 

“Please start acting like you have some goddamn sense” he pleads. “Have you learned nothing about the last few weeks?”

Jungkook brings his eyes to look up at his best friend, he can see the fear that clings to his stare - perhaps, he wasn't being rational but there was no point in explaining to Taehyung how he didn't see you as a dangerous enemy but rather a deeply broken girl, something he had a hand in creating. 

“What is your plan then Taehyung? Storm into her home with a mob of armed men and yank her by the arm and take her away? Is that your magical fucking plan?”

“Im not letting you go alone” Taehyung declares, inching closer to the table. 

“I have to” Jungkook responds “i have to handle this myself, she is not my enemy Taehyung, she is not someone you need to protect me from.”

Taehyung scoffs, the adrenaline rushing through him leading him to pace around the room in frustration.

“So she wasn't your enemy when she held a gun at you? When she exposed you and your family for the entire country to see? How long are you going to act like you can fix this!” Taehyung's voice now boomed through the restaurant, the museum of memories. 

“Because I can” Jungkook shoots back, his voice matching Taehyung’s, standing from his chair  - fists now pressed against the desk. 

He had to, if he didn't he knew for sure his father would and he knew the exact methods the man would use - the thought of it alone leading his stomach to twist painfully. 

“I want to believe that you are smarter than that Jungkook, you feel guilty? Fine, you were a shitty husband and you did a shit job at protecting her but if you think that for a second that she wont put a bullet in your skull the moment she lays eyes on you then you are clearly out of your fucking mind” Taehyung huffs, his words rambled as if he cant get the words out fast enough. 

“She is not something complicated that you need to decipher, she is an enemy through and through, there are no lines to read in between, she will kill you. ”

Another silent blow in Jungkook's gut, another truth hard to digest.

Jungkook does not snap back, instead his eyes travel to Taehyung’s, his stare cold and stern, it defies the truth that has just spilled through his best friends mouth, his actions careless as he grabs his gun and walks towards the front of the restaurant, reaching for the door handle. He feels Taehyung’s grip on his arm which he yanks with ease and he storms out. 

The evening air clings to his skin as he rushes out of the restaurant, keys clenched into his fist as if they were to be ripped away from him. He has no plan, no back up - no solution and no words he can offer for you to understand but his steps are hurried because as unprepared as he is, he knows he has to get to you. 

No rationale, no doubt. 

Even if you were to hold a gun to his chest, even if you were to kill him - then he’d pay his dues. 

Jungkooks breath comes in short gasps, not from exertion nor exhaustion but mere anticipation. 

His steps are heavy and loud as he makes a beeline to the SUV parked on the other side of the street. The men that surround the street bow their heads in unison, his soldiers awaiting his next command - their black suit’s now dampened from the cold drizzle that falls from the sky. 

Jungkook throws open the door and drops into the driver's seat, his heart ramming into his ribs like a wrecking ball and as he fumbles to start the ignition he looks back at the restaurant, Taehyung stands by the door - a disapproving glare in his eyes along with what Jungkook knows is fear, fear that something might happen to him. 

His eyes flicker away and he sets them now on the road before him - the engine roars to life, tires squealing as he pushes his foot down on the accelerator and hes gone, the street becoming a blur as he speeds ahead. 

Your face comes to him, a cruel memory. Your widened drunkened eyes, the laughter that bubbled from your chest at even the slightest words that he mustered to let out as if he was funniest man on earth, your swaying body in the middle of your garden and your flushed cheeks, he can still recall how red they were - residue of your activities that night. 

And he's back, back to the first time he ever laid eyes on you. 

The house is grand, in the way only someone with old money can own - effortless, sprawling, gilded without being garish. I try to compare it to my own but there's something lacking, something that doesn't quite match, a certain warmth that mine lacks, this home is shared, not just lived in. 

Characteristics I once yearned for but no longer crave, no longer need because im no longer a child. 

The air smells faintly of cigar and imported cologne, heavy with the subtle power struggle between the men that sit before me and my father. 

I find myself inside the  home’s drawing room, I sit stiffly beside my father. The conversation being held formal, clipped - serious.  It's always the same kind of conversations. land, partnerships, legacy. things that I have no concern over because I, myself have never had a legacy, and what I do get is usually so easily thrown in my  face. Like a sword that dips into me softly at first and then gets ripped out mindlessly. 

I bear no worry to keep anything for I own nothing.

 I catch a wift of the alcohol glass in my hand, a grimace subtly flashing through my expression at the brown liquid that has been poured there. The smell is sharp and pungent yet my father regards this as ‘the good stuff’. 

I really don’t get it, why people drink, why they would choose to numb themselves into stupidity. 

Yet my father pours it into my cup with pride and whispers “you are a man now”, like that means something to me. The bitter liquor dances on my tongue before I allow it to drain down my throat, it burns and still i dont feel like a man. 

I nod in struggled gratitude as if I enjoy it, as if i can pick on the good this liquid holds and for some reason that makes my father smile. 

“So when will we partner again?” my father asks, a low chuckle following suit. his question was directed towards the man who sits across from us, whose house we are currently visiting. 

I’ve never seen this man before but my father insists on calling him ‘an old friend’, someone who has been in the ‘game’ as long as him, someone my father had started his crime syndicate with, though nothing about this meeting feels familiar. just shades of politeness and power, like 2 lions circling the same prey. The man has sharp eyes and a lingering smirk that has not left his face since my father and I arrived, I can only  conclude it's because he’s eager to exude trust but it only manages to make my skin crawl. 

The man calls out my name, disregarding the question that my father has made and which hangs in the air almost menacingly ,  my eyes dart in his direction, something in his tone causing me to grow uneasy. 

“Do you plan to take over the family business someday?”

It's a question I've heard more than once but never seem to have the answer for. if i say yes it makes me feel like an imposter, it's not my inheritance. this is not my family, yet i cant bring myself to say no, not when its all the man who sits besides me can seem to prepare me for. 

From beside me I hear my father chuckle, low and arrogant, polished with just enough control to feel unsettling deliberate. 

"Of course he will,” he interjects, letting his hand fall harshly upon my shoulder, my body leaning down into the weight of his touch. 

The man, whose name I don't remember now, grins from across the table. His smile soft, his eyes crinkling at the edges and his voice carrying the mellow tone of someone who’s used to being listened to. 

“Good” he declares as if we were waiting for his approval. 

For the first time I allowed my eyes to remain on him. His clothes are simple yet expensive, different from the suit my father and I wear. It projects humility without sacrificing his status. He leans forward slightly, as if eager to hear what we have to say. 

It's when I notice he’s been tense since our arrival, his movements appearing rehearsed, curated as though he wants to make us feel comfortable. He speaks of loyalty, opportunity, growth with ease but behind his tendered tone, behind the gentleness in his words he hides the unshakable sense of manipulation. 

His kindness is like the suit my father wears - tailored, strategic, and easily shed when he gets what he wants. 

“You know I've gone legitimate now” his words are directed towards my father now, answering the question he had so easily ignored before. A silent confirmation that he would answer it when he wanted to, the smirk spreading further across his face. 

“After all this time? After all, everything you do have is only because of the hard work of your father, grandfather and his father before him” my father states bitterly “if anything this would be a slap on the face to them”.

I direct my stare back to the man and for a moment his expression shifts to one of distaste, the same one I had made when the cognac in my glass had met my lips.

“Times have changed Jeon” he remarks, referring to my father by his last name. “my legacy should be backed by honor and respect not blood”.

“And what if you fail?” My father shoots back and I furrow my eyes in confusion at my fathers eagerness to point out the man's potential failure. It's like he is drooling at the mere thought that this man will someday fall apart. 

‘Old friends’ the words ring in my ear, what kind of friendship is that?

The air turns tense and I finally consider taking a drink from the glass willingly.

“Dont worry” he shrugs “there is always a back up plan.”

His eyes flinch over to the family portrait that hangs on his wall, in the portrait a younger version of the man is presented along with a young woman who stands besides him, in her arms a small little girl barely 2 years old, her dress is pink. 

Both men laugh in unison, yet I don't understand the joke. 

My eyes drift back to the picture, studying the small child there.  She might be the same age as me given the youth in the man's face when the picture was taken, much like my father’s when he picked me up from that bloodied floor in that decaying home. 

She wasn’t present during my arrival, just the man and his wife.

The obnoxious heavy cackles of the men fill the room and yet the apprehensive atmosphere perdures. I can't help but feel like there's something sinister behind the joke the man has just made regarding his family. What was collateral? And why did he stare at his family portrait while saying it?

I wait until the laughter subsides, allowing for the glee to ease through the tension then lean forward slightly, politely like my father always taught me or rather patronized me. 

“Excuse me” I interrupted, “I just need to use the bathroom.”

I don't wait for their approval, I stand up carefully as if I were standing near landmines, careful not to rush, giving them the illusion of calmness though there's not a cell in my body that wants to remain a minute further in this room .

I can feel my fathers cold, stern gaze as I make my way towards the door . It's a warning,  a silent "don't ever do that again” but he doesn’t move a muscle to protest and I thank the gods silently for it. Under different circumstances, he would’ve interrupted my escape and negated me the freedom I so dearly desired, pressing his heavy hand on my shoulder and shoving me back to my seat. A stern ‘you can wait’ falling from his mouth. 

The moment I slip out of the room I feel the strain around me lift, a cold breeze after suffocating heat. A small sigh leaves me, relief. 

My eyes scan every corner of the home as if it were a museum for my enjoyment, my footsteps echoing as I wonder past arched doorways, past oil paintings and silent servants who wait patiently to be called upon. 

As I make my way to the first floor the guards who stand at the corners in stiffened composure don't even flinch, I was not a threat to them but I was also just a stranger roaming their bosses home at late hours of the night. Perhaps, my father had been right, perhaps we were allies to a certain extent. 

I roamed and moved around the foreign halls until I came face to face with the back of the home. It looked like a private sanctuary if anything. Its greatness and luxury is the kind that exudes elegance and of course, money. 

There was no denying this man had money and an abundant amount. 

I recalled my fathers statement of how the man would have to thank his father and his fathers father. This was generational wealth unlike my fathers and perhaps that was the sour feeling that accompanied him. The ache of knowing that next to this man my father was but an ant, insignificant. 

The sweeping stone terrace frames around a rectangular pool that glistens under the moon light. Decorated with manicured bushes and lounge chairs that have been placed with exact precision. Beyond the pool, the ground drops to a sculptured garden, neatly clipped hedges and winding stone paths. 

Everything is curated, not a leaf out of place. It's a courtyard, subtly screaming its worth and the only thing that comes to mind is how exhausting it must be for it to hold its composure. Its elegance is exhausting. I can imagine the employees bustling through each morning, ensuring everything appeared tidy and clean. 

How much has this man invested in bushes?

My attention is drawn to the phone buzzing in my pocket, the soft hum of incoming text messages alerting me to my undeliberate gawking. I slip the phone out of my pocket and stare at the incoming thread of messages. 

Tae: paris on another level

Jin: You're in Paris now?

Tae: yeah dads meetings were boring 

Jin: You were just in cabo?

It doesn't take long before a huff escapes me accompanied by the roll of my eyes. I was used to Taehyung's antics and Jin’s constant surprise of his carelessness or rather lack of parental control. From the 3 of us, he was who most enjoyed his life. Carrying himself with an ease neither Jin and I could afford to. 

I stand a moment longer, attempting to regain some sense of will to return back to that god awful suffocating room. If I took too long then my father would only grow more irritated towards me. perhaps triggering another yelling match, where he would throw the past 10 years in my face and I would reserve my words in hopes that it would deter him from berating me.sometimes i wish he had left me on that bloodied floor. 

And sometimes I'm grateful he didn't. 

From the deepest part of my mind I was brought back by a shuffle from some of the bushes, the yard had been kept so well that it was hard to miss. The small intrusion caused my eyes to linger on it, for a moment convincing myself it could be a squirrel or a raccoon looking for its next meal but this wasn’t the kind of place where these animals would go unchecked. 

Was someone there and if so, was my life in danger?

My body stiffened, turning my stare back to the opened doors behind me. I should go warn the men that line the corridors but before I can move an inch, my eyes glimpse back to the bushes and from within them I can make out a figure. 

It's not a masked man holding an assault rifle, ready to unload its clip into me but rather a female, her frame small and clumsy. 

She stumbled out of the perfect greenery, barefoot in the grass, soft mumbles accompanied by sweet giggles and quivered hiccups that forced her body forward. 

Her dress clung to her like a shadow, half elegance, half recklessness. her heels dangled from her right hand as she stumbled towards me. I stood motionless, breathless.She was an abnormality in the neatly kept home. 

Before I could even blink, the girl stumbled harshly, her legs giving out from beneath her, whilst her body flung forward and she landed on her face. a loud and pained groan muffled by the grass erupting from within her. I hesitate, my heart racing as I stare at her limp body and before I can register what I'm doing, my legs take me towards her with hurried steps. 

“Are you okay?” I ask. 

“Shhhhh” she responds. 

My eyebrows knit in confusion whilst I take her in. Did she shush me? I wasn't even being loud. If anything, she's the one being disruptive. 

“Are you drunk?” I want to ask her if she’s crazy but I don't. 

The mixture of her delicate flower perfume and alcohol grasp me from where I stand above her, answering the question I had thrown out before she could even open her mouth. She lifts her head a few inches but her eyes remain shut. 

“Where am I?" she slurs. 

“Uhm” i hum, i cant bring myself to recall the owner's name, the one he had given me whilst he shook my hand and i had forgotten with indifference. 

A loud sigh flows through her and she pushes herself from the floor, stumbling on her way up. I hold my arm out which she avoids completely and I refrain from scoffing. Why do I intend to help her? If anything, I should call the guards on this stranger. 

Sound the alarm, bring out the guards and the guard dogs, call upon helicopters who will flash their bright lights on her. Leading the house to go up in chaos but i dont do either. I'm not even sure the man has a helicopter but he seems like the kind of man who does. 

“Who are you?” This time her eyes are open though they are low, fluttering under the influence of the alcohol that consumes her mind. Her judgemental tone irks me, she dares to look at me like that as if she weren’t an intruder and i a guest?

But I'm quickly drawn away from that emotion when my eyes meet with hers. 

Her pupils stood dilated, her eyes large and dark, glassed with intoxication. They reflected the lights around us and gifted them back to me. Stray hairs framed her face, clinging onto her temples and exposed neck where the chilled air of the night had mixed with the droplets of water from the grass she had landed on. Her lashes were long and wisped, her eyebrows gently arched as if bringing them closer could help her concentrate on my own features. 

Her face is delicate and dew, her skin glowing with the faint warmth of her choice of alcohol this night, a rosy flush touching her cheeks and enveloping her nose. Her lips, full and tinted by a peached gloss, curving into a smile that exuded tenderness and inexperience. 

Something in my chest shifted, almost unpredictably but it was there and I could sense it though I could not describe it. She brought forth a certain urge inside of me to protect, to aid. Her presence was a blend of fragility and wildness all at the same time and even if I tried to break away from her stare I couldn't bring myself to blink away. 

I felt foolish, embarrassed. She brought forth a feeling no other person had been able to bring out of me, not even my father with his harsh words and it made me want to shrink in place. 

“Are you a new body guard?” she asked in annoyance, as if somehow my very existence was an inconvenience to her. 

“Ugh, I literally jumped over 2 fences to avoid you.”

My eyes trailed to where her dress ended just above her knees, the fresh bruises forming there serving as evidence that she did in fact jump through fences to avoid detection from anyone in this home. 

“In new valentino!” she shrieked once again, holding up the shiny black pair of heels in her hand. 

She was no stranger to this home, perhaps I was the intruder. It all clicked like a puzzle that had been forming in my mind. puzzle pieces i had lost sight of when i laid my eyes on her. She was the little girl in the family portrait. The man’s daughter, the collateral. 

Spoiled and filthy fucking rich. 

“Im not-” I began, readying to protest her claim but she continued to ramble, speaking over my hushed words. 

“Please don't tell my dad” she pleaded and an instant I could feel her sobering over the possibility of being caught. She lunged forward, her hands coming to cling onto my shoulders and the desperation in her eyes caused my own to widen in panic. 

“Please” her voice trembled. 

She probably always got what she wanted. I could tell by her freshly manicured hands that gripped my suit jacket with so much force I could swear the thread was becoming undone under it and her french perfume, the one that came and went like waves the closer she stood in front of me. 

Much like this courtyard, I could tell she was usually well maintained, hair done with precision, outfits selected by top designers and her friends, a bunch of snobs and stuck up oxygen thiefs. 

I hated people like her, those who never had to work for anything because they got everything they wanted, living life as if it held no restraints for them. Taehyung was like her in many ways but he was different, he was humble and caring. Sure, he indulged in the finer things because they were within his reach but he didnt brag, he didnt whine like her.  

Perhaps, i was a hyprocite. 

I lifted my hands and grasped onto hers, the swift motion causing her to gasp.  I pulled her hands off from me and brought her touch away from my shoulder. In my grasp her hands felt small, delicate, and cold. 

“I am not your body guard” my tone was stern, gripped with annoyance and distaste. 

We came from different worlds, this girl and I. she was loved and tended to, she was brought into this life carefully whilst i had been ripped away from mine and forced to fit into mine. 

Her eyes blinked quickly, almost in amazement but surely with shock. She was probably never told no, never denied her desires,  her life filled with ‘yes ma’am’ and willingness. 

I let go of her hands and turned on my heel, making my way back to the mansion before me. For a moment the only sound was of my shoes destroying the perfectly trimmed grass under it, that is until I heard her hurried and short strides following behind me. 

“Hey!” She called out, her voice raised enough to probably catch the attention of those inside. 

“HEY” She repeated, though I did not turn. 

“I would be a bit quieter if I were you” I responded, an unseen smirk forming on my lips. Why was I being such an asshole? It's not like I really did care if she was caught or not, i didnt know her but for some reason it brought me some satisfaction bringing her even a miniscule amount of inconvenience. 

“Wouldn’t want the princess to get caught” my words were sharp and filled with the same vile tone that my father had used to question the man’s success.  

“Who the fuck are you then?” She shouted, the curse that fell from her lips surprising me momentarily. What was her deal? Was she a snobby girl who pretended to be relatable to those beneath her? 

I could feel her getting closer, only confirmed when she grabbed onto my arm and yanked me back harshly. The motion irritated me, my jaw locking as i felt my body shift under her touch. 

I turned my attention to her now, my body coming to a full stop, I glared down at her. my expression gripped with annoyance and hatred. Did I really hate her that much? Not really, again i didnt really know her but i didnt like to be manhandled and not by a spoiled little girl at that. 

“I’ll scream” she threatened “I’ll scream and my men would be here in seconds and trust me jack ass, you’ll be in a jail cell faster than you can blink”.

In the back of my mind I imagined jail was the least of my concerns, these men who lined the halls of this grand home were not the kind to call on the police to aid them in handling an intruder. I could see it in their eyes as I walked past them. If this girl opened her mouth to scream, to voice any kind of complaint my life would be over. 

I raised my eyebrows, amusement bubbling inside of my chest , a sly smile the only evidence of it.

“Do it” I dared, “I have nothing to lose but you?” 

A chuckle escaped me with ease. 

“You jumped 2 fences to avoid being found out.” 

I watched as her stare faltered, the grip she kept on my shirt loosening for a moment. 

“I’ll be in jail but you’ll probably be locked up in this mansion for life.” 

Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something but as the seconds passed, the words never came. 

I reach for my suit jacket and snatch it out of her grip once again, turning away from her pleading eyes. as i turn i catch the subtle glint of a light, which beams off of the surface besides us, its source coming from within the home - a flashlight.

Fuck.

“Shit!” the girl whispers and then my body is brought down with force and I land on my back harshly, all air stripped from my lungs on impact. I'm not sure if it's the way my body collapses onto the ground that leaves me shocked or the fact that she had been strong enough to cause me to. 

“Fuckkkk” I groaned but before I could inhale again, her body was on top of mine, her delicate chilled hand tightly clasped over my mouth. 

“Dont you fucking dare move” she whispers but i cant focus. Not while her chest presses against mine, our breaths synchronized,her scent now on my clothes. Her stare piercing as the bodyguard who had managed to get us in this position stepped into the ample yard. The light bouncing from one side to the other. 

She buries her face into my neck, the warmth of her breath bringing chills down my spine and my eyes subconsciously flutter shut at the sensation. My heartbeat untamed and brisk, my cheeks growing warm against hers and my arms come up to envelope her against me, as if out of habit. 

Again i am a fool, again i am embarrassed of the comfort she seems to so easily bring me, one i cant bring to negate myself. She is like an open door i dont think twice to enter. 

We were both in this together now, wherever she hid I would hide too. 

Time moved slower here on this patch of finely cut grass, though I'm sure the bodyguard had left long ago. We laid there motionless, only the sound of her heart pounding on my chest and my slow unsteady breaths evidence of life. 

She raised her head almost as if our thoughts were in sync and then she looked down on me, her eyes stealing me away. The fierceness and determination in her stare throwing me off my thoughts. 

“I don't know who you are nor do I know what your intentions are but you are the only one who can help me get to my room” she huffed, her chest rising and falling with the adrenaline running through her “so ill trust you.” 

Ill trust you

The words melted into my brain like honey, they caused my heart to jump from my chest, absurd i know. 

“Can I trust you?” she breathed. 

I nodded slowly like a child, losing sight of my will and of my resolve. She slowly retracted her hand from my mouth, giving me the gift of air once again. 

She clears her throat, her eyes slowly trailing down to look at our intertwined bodies and just as fast as we had collapsed on the ground, we were back on our feet. Awkwardly adjusting our clothes and dusting off the dampened dirty on the fabric. 

I couldn't bring myself to look away from her, though her very presence was the embodiment of all things I despised, I couldn't let her out of my sight. my eyes tracing her every movement, a toxic trance. 

“So how do we get you there?” I asked, my tone reluctant though I was far from it. 

“My room is on the third floor” she informed me as if it was nothing. “there's 2 ways to get there, either we use the main corridors and stares or” she halted her words and her eyes narrowed. 

“Or?” I asked. 

“Or we go in the same way i left” she pressed her lips nervously and i stood expectantly though i had no doubt that by her expression, I wouldn’t  particularly enjoy her master plan. 

She takes my hand in hers swiftly and she pulls me forward, my feet stumbling as I keep up with her hurried steps. Her hair bounced and flowed as we ran further away from the yard. Though the house appeared to be grand, she moved around with ease. she knew the home like the back of her hand. 

We came to a stop at the side of the home, both breathless. I looked up, my eyes meeting with the various windows there. My eyes landed on the rope like bundle of sheets spilling out of one of them and I needed no further explanation, a chuckle bubbling through my chest. 

“Are you sure?” I murmured, careful as to not call the attention of yet another guard. 

She smiled definitely. 

“Yes” she nodded “just help me up.”

“Dont you have like a service entrance or something?” I asked, shit i had one and i was sure in this big ass house that she had one too. I then realized that the question itself sounded entitled. 

She shook her head and sighed “too risky.”

The house seemed to hold its breath with us. She stood in front of me, turning so that her back was now facing me. I brought my hands up but stopped for a moment, as if asking for silent permission. She turned her head slightly as if checking on me and I nodded my head before encompassing her waist with my hands. The action was insignificant but being all I could bring myself to focus on. 

I raised her up until she could securely grasp the makeshift rope. I kept my body grounded to the floor, the endless days of working out and lifting weights in the gym serving as support to keep her body steady. 

She pulled herself with ease, using the home to plant her feet and climb up. I could hear her soft giggles pour from her frame and for a moment I had forgotten that she was utterly drunk. 

She hauled herself through the opening of her window, a sigh of relief escaping her when the sill met her hips, then spilled into the room with a gasp.

Seconds later, her head popped her head from the window, hair spilling over one eye, cheeks backlit and flushed. “Come” she said, not demanding or arrogantly, but offering. mischief entangled with her words. 

“Come in after me” she requested. 

I hesitated; my job here was done, I had kept my word, and I could easily walk back into the home. I was an invited guest after all. I didn't have to hide or sneak around but my eyes looked back to the place we had just come from as if i was a thief, someone who much like her would find myself in a problem if i was caught. 

the way she called for me as if we were no longer strangers but old friends who had met once again after a long time, it made me doubt my own conscience. 

I tried to rationalize, to be logical but I wanted nothing more than to be in her company again, as stupid as that sounded. I smiled up at her. A crooked, uncertain smile and took the blanket in my hands. I struggled at first, my movements struggled unlike hers. She stretched out her hand as if she somehow could muster the strength to pull me inside, but I took it, knowing she could let me fall. 

When I swung through the window, the room received me warmly, my landing clumsy, lacking confidence. She laughed, the sound disarming and familiar. The scent of her perfume and vanilla lingering in the air. I turned to her, a soft chuckle escaping me. the rush of what I had just done caused me to grow dizzy. 

“Hey” 

It was the only thing I could bring myself to say whilst I tried to regain my composure and my breath. In that instant the only thing that came to mind was how free I felt. My entire life had been spent choosing my words and my actions carefully so as to not be ungrateful, as to not disturb the idea of a home I was granted but now, it felt as though I could eat the world in one bite.

I felt like Taehyung must feel, free and able.  

Nothing mattered, not my father nor the business, it didn't matter if I was brave or ruthless, if I could tell the difference between an AR-15 or a Sig mcx. 

Here I was just a foolish and ignorant teenager. 

I noted the girl sway, her eyes fluttering whilst her hand reached forward towards her desk behind her. I recalled why we were here in the first place. She had sneaked out, probably meeting with friends and sneaking into a club or bar she was too young to enter but she had money and connections and that was something that came easily to her, access. I know because I did, I know because I could. She had been drinking heavily. Her hand slipped clumsily and I could tell she was preparing to take yet another stumble, I leaned forward quickly and placed my hand on her back, the other on her arm. 

I had now grown accustomed to this stranger's touch and I was sure she could say the same. 

“Sorry” she hiccuped. 

We were once again pressed closely against each other but my heart beat more steady now as I swayed along with her slowly.

“Its okay” i nodded, my hand rose like to it was a habit to and slowly removed some hair strands that hung over her face, once my eyes met with her shut ones i could feel my heart begin to drum anxiously once again, the embarrassment of her noticing leading my cheeks to grow warm. 

“Can you take me to my bed?” 

I nodded my head as if she could see me but her eyes remained shut in drunken bliss. I still didn't understand why someone would drink this much or even be able to digest alcohol, god knows i couldn’t even stand the taste it left my mouth but i no longer felt the desire to judge her, i think i had done enough of that for the night. 

My head turned as I tried to find balance in our shuffled steps, I carefully moved us towards her bed that was adorned by short dresses still in hangers and pillows. 

“Y’know” you are the first guy that has come to my room” she giggled whilst i sat her on the edge. 

“Well I can understand with all the security around here” I joked nervously. 

“I'm glad it's you” she huffed, my hands reaching for her comforter.

I scoffed as I looked down at her crooked smile. 

“I'm just a stranger,” I clarified and she didn't answer, allowing the truth to linger in the air between us. 

I laid her down slowly and tucked her inside her bed, watching as the large blanket took her in warmly. She extended her hand out to me, a sheepish grin now appearing in front of me, her eyes wide open now. 

“I’m Y/n” she announced with excitement. 

Y/n 

The drunken spoiled girl now had a name, a soft smile appeared on my face and I sighed, looking up at the clock by her nightstand. It was late, later than what my father had planned to stay.

“Well, im Jungkook” I whispered but once my eyes found her again, soft snores poured from her parted lips, her cheek pressed against the pillow under her head. 

I stepped away slowly, my eyes remaining on her for a moment longer before turning away. The wall in front of me was lined with torn pieces of magazines, idols and famous actors. scrapped pictures of dresses from runway shows and photographs of her and her friends in which she smiled brightly and carelessly. 

She was different from me, she held meaningful space in the lives of others. she had no concern for all the dark things that occurred in this world, never bearing witness to the world that I so eagerly had been introduced to, she hadn’t seen people be tortured or offed for betraying my father. Never had to gravel for safety and air in her lungs. 

She didn't hunger for shelter or love like me and yet, I could feel a loneliness much like mine but I was just trying to find ways in which she and I were the same. Familiarities that could somehow explain the sudden attraction i felt towards her. Realistically we were magnets whose magnetization directions were misaligned, unable to connect. 

I reached for one of the pictures, she stood alone and held a bouquet of flowers in her arms, roses and tulips tied together in a harmonious bouquet. She wore a ballerina costume and offered the camera a tight lipped smile, a bun sleekly tied just a bit above her head. Her features were clearer in it and I drew a map of it in my mind which I later on would come back to recollect when I most needed to remember her. I stared at it for a moment, taking the simplicity and the beauty. I folded it and slid into my pocket. 

Amongst the carelessness that gripped me, the feeling of uncertainty settled and the joke that had been made earlier now sat menancingly in my head. 

‘I have collateral’

It rang through my ears on a constant loop, as if my body was forcing me to hear something that had been unsaid. As I traced my eyes back to Y/n, I spotted the same picture that hung above the man's office sitting on her nightstand. 

The father, the mother, and the collateral. 

It was an assumption of course, I couldn't really know what he meant by it or if he really meant it, he did laugh after all. But I, unlike her, had seen all the shadows in this world, it had allowed me to see how evil people could really be, how merciful and selfish someone could become under certain circumstances. Unfortunately the assumption I was making was not too far fetched from what I had in my short life been able to witness. 

A memory plopped itself in my head smoothly, wrapping itself in my consciousness as if it had just happened though if I recall correctly a few months had passed since then. My father and I sat in his office, he went over his long list of tasks. ‘Going over the numbers’ he would say and sometimes when he spoke like that it seemed as though he ran a legitimate business. 

The man who had burst into the office then had hollow eyes, his emaciated figure bouncing against the dark oak door which he pushed close forcibly. He breathed heavily as if he had been running for miles, sweat dripping from his forehead. I had perked up quickly in alarm, my widened eyes looking from my father back to the man. 

My father had not reacted, remaining calm and collected. His glasses still hanging from the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes?’ he asked in a rather annoyed tone as if the presence of the man pestered him. He didn't even bother looking up from the pile of documents in front of him and it was then I realized that my father was familiar with the man. 

“Mr. Jeon” the man spoke faintly, unable to catch his breath even then. 

“Ive told you not to come to my office” my father raised his stare, cold and resentful. 

“I-i understand” the man nodded “b-but you wouldn’t answer my calls and i-i needed to speak with you.” 

“Go on” my father huffed, laying down the paper in his hand. 

“I am able to repay you” the man almost begged. 

“And how will you be doing that Tokamoto?” my father smirked “you owe my club more than you can afford and i know that because you’ve recently lost your job” he hummed knowingly “due to your habits.” 

The man wiped his forehead, his skin grey and glossed with addiction. He managed a deep breath and I noticed his whole body tremble under my fathers glare. 

“My daughter” was a whisper at first, his words breaking at the bare mention. 

My daughter. 

Perhaps I was too young to know what that meant at the time but there was a side of me that might have never wanted to know. I blinked slowly and allowed a heavy sigh  to leave me and I was back to Y/n’s room.

The wheels screeched loudly as the SUV came to a halt, Jungkook’s body jerking forward. From the driver's seat he could see the property standing before him. 

The home was built of dark metal and natural stone, with clean rectangular structure. Floor - to - ceiling windows wrapped around it, giving it a modern appearance. Jungkook stepped out carefully, eyes scanning every corner, waiting for any abrupt movement but everything seemed to hush in his presence. 

The home, the air around him. 

As he neared the entrance path, his hand moved towards the gun placed inside his waistband. He had no plans to use it, not on Y/n nonetheless but he couldn’t shake the Erie feeling that rolled through his spine and the complete stillness that encompassed the home.

There were no men standing guard from outside and though it made it easier for him to access the property now, it could only mean something terrible must have happened or was he just looking too deeply into it, perhaps you must have decided against having them there. 

When he neared the door, he felt his stomach drop to his feet. The sudden burst caused his eyes to widen. 

The door remained agape, the hinges scratched and dented as if opened by force, he reached out his hand pushing it all the way open, the squeak of the heavy wooden door causing echoes inside. 

The sudden urge to run inside took over him but he knew better than that.

Was it a trap? Did Jin warn Y/n? 

His steps were careful, methodical. He drew out his gun and held it close to chest, his eyes moving from side to side as he moved further into the house, finger sitting absently on the trigger. 

Everything appeared in place and yet, like nothing belonged. If Y/n had left then why had the door been forced? And if nothing was wrong then why were his nostrils now overwhelmed with the metallic and overpowering odor of fresh blood. 

“Fuck” his voice trembled desperately.

Jungkook’s hands began to shake,his chest began to cave the closer he got that scent.

Death.

From beneath his feet the sound of broken shards of glass popped under the pressure of his steps but he didn’t dare look down. Fearful he would find your body laying in a puddle of blood, your empty eyes staring back at him. He had seen dead people before, he had killed people before but he couldn't stomach the thought of seeing you like that, he began to feel insanity creep inside his brain. 

He stopped moving, pressing his body against the wall of the corridor he found himself in - closing his eyes tightly.

Fear consumed him entirely in a way he had never felt before, not when he held a gun in his hands for the first time, not when he stood in front of his father awaiting another beating, not when he waited to hear if his deal with your father had been accepted. 

No, nothing like this. 

What if you were dead? It was all his fault, he wanted to scream, to run, to collapse…

To collapse.

Where were you? How much time had passed from when these events occurred?

With a deep breath, he continued his sweep of the home until he found himself in the living room and only then , did he come face to face with the darkest of his thoughts. 

It was a war zone, the long windows that once wrapped the space in sunlight, now gapping wounds in the walls, jagged teeth of glass still clinging to the frames. Its shards spread across the polished floor and onto the furniture there. 

The wind blew into the room bitterly, causing the remains of the overturned furniture to squeak against its chill. 

The coffee table split in two and the sofa thrown backwards, its white stuffing spilling out. bullet holes decorating the walls in a sinister array, their edges dark and splintered. 

On the floor, streaks of dark crimson blood spread on various areas and Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to draw a breath in, his mouth held ajar at the aftermath of what could only be described as slaughter. 

“Y/n” he yelled, his voice rasped. 

“Y/n” he repeated, louder this time. 

“Fuck.” 

His voice roared through the home, his eyes growing blurred with the tears that swelled there. He didn't want to cry, not right now. In this moment he had to pull himself together and look through the other rooms in hopes you had been swift enough to hide somewhere, somewhere no one could hurt you. 

In the home you once shared together there had been secret rooms and passages for this exact reason, there were escape routes and even tunnels leading into other properties nearby. He had always been prepared for the worst, he had always been prepared to protect you but he doubted you were able to measure the seriousness in all of this. 

You were unable to foresee how indifferent his father was to your life. 

The sound of the front door being pushed rang through the home once again and he lifted his gun quickly, eyes sharp as he stood from his sitting position. His chest filled with rage as he moved towards the front of the home once again. 

Had the attackers returned for something? Or the cleaners, the ones his father would usually hire to get rid of evidence and dead bodies at crime scenes. He was not proud to say that he too hired them when needed. Acknowledging that felt bitter and for a moment he recognized how similar they both were. 

His finger pressed on the trigger, allowing a bullet to ring out and hit the wall next to the door. A warning to whomever dared go through that threshold. Logically, it was stupid. If those men had returned then he could be easily outnumbered, it was only him and his now 5 bullets and he knew his father would send more than 10 men when he considered something important. 

He knew killing you was important to his father. 

“Jungkook!” he recognized the voice immediately, his stare faltering for a moment. 

“Its fucking me you fucking bastard” Taehyung popped his head from the wall he was leaning against. Jungkook lowered his gun and a sigh left him with ease. Taehyung moved from where he had taken cover and walked towards Jungkook. 

“You are drunk and beligerent” Taehyung lectured “acting on your own, you are a fucking dumbass!” 

Taehyung wanted to go further  but his words were cut off when he looked behind Jungkook. His eyes trailed the blood and glass on the floor, taking in every bullet hole on the wall. His heart plummeted into this stomach, a vile liquid rising up his throat. 

“Kook” Taehyung searched Jungkook's eyes “is she?” but he couldn't even bring himself to ask, as if the question itself were a transgression. He sighed, putting his hand on Jungkook's shoulder. A gesture of support, more to himself than to his friend. 

“No bodies,” Jungkook responded coldly. 

“Just shattered glass and blood marks.” 

“Okay” Taehyung nodded, a small chuckle falling from his mouth “okay, that's good, no bodies mean she probably got away” Taehyung felt a bit of relief though Jungkook could not share it. 

“Or she didnt” Jungkook snapped “she could be somewhere else being tortured.” 

Taehyung didn't reply because he couldn't bring himself to say that was impossible. Nothing was out of the realm of possibility in these kinds of situations, when his father was involved in something. 

There was a soft buzz that carried through the hall, both men snapped their necks looking for the direction of the almost faint sound. Their hearts turning into themselves in unison. They both lifted their guns in almost perfect synchronicity. 

“Ill take the stairs up the second floor” Jungkook decided, his eyes scanning the home once more. 

Taehyung threw his head back and groaned, lowering his weapon once more. 

“Jungkook, it's your phone,” he clarified. 

Only then Jungkook felt the vibrating sensation against his leg. He shoved his hand into his front pocket and looked at the number, unable to recognize the digits but he answered anyway, turning to walk towards the front door. 

“Hello?” he yelled. 

“Were are you?” 

It was his father, his body jolted at the familiar sound of his voice. 

“Where the fuck is she?” 

His father produced a cold and baleful chuckle. 

“Oh your wife?” His tone was mocking, bringing anger to Jungkook’s chest. 

“I found her.”

-

honestly I don't even know what to say, please bear with me if there are any typos. it was a bit difficult for me to get back to my groove.

© 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

@ane102,@thisartemisnevermisses,@jamlessstars,@cookysstuff,@gyeomibearr,@multiasf ,@lydinews,@vminkookgf,@chl0buggy, @peterstarkchrishiddleston , @koostrawberry , @jcrl99 , @coree730 , @melodiesforari , @taemond-in-the-ruff , @whoa-jo @jksusawife , @hoseoksluv89 , @piecesofapril11 , @coralmusicblaze , @junecat18 , @amiradumas , @mageprincess7 , @heartjiminie , @parkinglot-nights , @douknowbts , @str4gguk , @sarzkh31, @jjk970971 , @xwniazx, @jalexad, @hubbytaehyung, @wobblewobble822, @llallaaa, @gojosatoruhere, @defnotxara , @somehowukook , @jk-190811 , @googie-jeon , @melodiesforari , @harmonic55 , @kooliv, @heartwith0uthe, @somehowukook , @coldcoffee2121 , @anle102001, @whoa-jo , @yunoyeol

[somehowukook]

Help me find This amazing Jungkook FIC.

Rock Star Jungkook, manager YN. They are exes. Jk has this toxic friend called Sid. YN and Jk go on a bus tour thru Europe. The wrinting is so damm good, i left the Last chapter to read after a really hard time at my job and never find it anymore.

Heeeeelp!

[personasintro]

mutual help | index

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing | © 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝)

𓍯𝗧𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗿:

#01 | #02 | #03 | #04 | #05 | #06 | #07 | #08 | #09 | #10

#11 | #12 | #13 | #14 | #15 | #16 | #17 | #18 | #19 | #20

#21 | #22 | #23 | #24 | #25 | #26 | #27 | #28 | #29 | #30

#31 | #32 | #33 | #34 | #35 | #36 | #37 | #38 | #39 | #40

#41 | #42 | #43 | #44 | #45 | #46 | #47 | #48 | #49 | #50

#51 | #52 | #53 | #54 | #55 | #56 | #57 | #58 | #59 | #60 | #60 pt 2

𓍯𝗢𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀:

No longer available on Wattpad [read announcement here] | AO3 

drabbles masterlist (in no particular order)

𓍯𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗣

#the one you and Jungkook meet for the first time

#the one where you’re on your period

#the one where Jungkook saves you from a drunk guy at the club

#the one where you get drunk and Jungkook handles you

#the one where it’s your birthday

#the one with a phone call between you and Jungkook

#the one where it’s Halloween

𓍯𝗗𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗣

#the one where Jungkook has his breakfast… you

#the one where you stay at Jungkook’s place and you kiss and cuddle instead

#the one where you and Taehyung almost kissed and have a conversation about it the next morning

𓍯𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗣

…

𓍯𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗦

#mh!taehyung drabble

[hycinthrt]

still rereading northanger abbey, so funny to me that catherine thinks she’s living in a gothic novel but she’s actually in a romcom while the tilneys are actively and knowingly living through the horrors pretty consistently

[elinordashboard]

just finished my reread and i am no longer just upset about the lack of attention this book gets but once again furious at netflix choosing PERSUASION to make a hip, funny rom com when that was supposed to be northanger abbey, like na is deliberately silly and meant to be a parody, the suddenly modern, sort of breaking the fourth wall would have fit so well with it and i am so so mad that instead they victimized anne and frederick

[elinordashboard]

like LIKE

can you imagine the random lightning and thunder whenever the tilneys say something mildly suspicious about their father?? austen’s interjections as a narrator that points out details good omens style?? bringing back catherine’s fantasies as dream sequences??? nobody thinks what i think

[firawren]

I love all of your ideas. Especially Jane Austen as a visible narrator, amazing!

Or, it could also be fun if every time Catherine says something innocent/naive/fanciful, Henry Tilney looks into the camera, either smiling like gosh isn't she delightful or deadpan when she's complimenting his dad or Isabella.

Hell, you could make it into a full mockumentary style, complete with talking head interviews to the camera, and it would still work! I want to see how miserable Catherine is on her carriage ride with John Thorpe to Blaize Castle and then cut straight to a talking head of Thorpe confidently saying "Yeah she had a smashing time. The best! Did you see how much she loved my gig? How could she not? Yeah I'm feeling great about how things are going with her."

We could have such a fun adaptation of this book if anyone in movie land just had a shred of imagination!

[hycinthrt]

in love with the idea of a camera crew just documenting catherine’s first time in bath with absolutely no explanation on why they’re in 19th century england

[mrsvante]

Stolen Orbit Masterlist

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: alien au, yandere jk, dark horror, enemies to lovers,

summary: you were supposed to die. your planet was marked for harvesting, and like millions of others across the galaxy was erased in a blink. except…he saw you.

on the correspondence feeds meant to catalogue your extinction, you, a fragile, tiny human, a useless species, glowed. jeongguk, one of the most elite among the kaereth, beautiful, lethal, and untouchable…was utterly entranced.

you reminded him of something long forgotten. something forbidden. something his kind purged from genetic code eons ago…emotion, attachment, desire.

so like all of his treasures, he took you. plucked you from the face of your doomed planet and gave you new life aboard the virexum, far from any star system you’ve ever known.

you are not free here. you are not his equal. you are his treasure.

he does not understand why you cry. why you scream. why you refuse his affections. but you…the fragile human, so soft and defiant and perplexing. it only makes his hunger for your submission grow. the harder you resist, the sweeter your surrender will be. you are his now. and if he has to strip you of your sanity, your memories, of your very humanity to make you understand—

he will.

there are no humans left. there is nowhere to go.

jeongguk will show you how rewarding forever can be, as long as you never look away from him again.

warnings: slow burn, mass extermination, alien jungkook forced captivity/proximity, psychological manipulation, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, ritualistic copulation

one | two | three

moodboards: TBA

jeongguk,

little treasure (oc)

aboard the virexum

playlist

[jeonstudios]

anatomy of a vampire. jjk | 06

a young man returns to a small town he hasn't seen in years, and a house he hasn't lived in since before the last president was born, only to find that a stray cat has given birth to kittens in his closet.

pairing: vampire!jeongguk x nerdy f veterinarian!reader (with a special interest in the science and biology aspect of the supernatural lol)

genre: sorta scifi-ish, fluff, minor angst, some smut later on

word count: 7.5k

warnings: none in this part really <3 (besides possible historical inaccuracies; i have done an insane amount of research but still... i'm not a historian and not a doctor or a vet either....)

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 6/? 

<previous | next>

© anatomy of a vampire is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

"I don't know. I don't think so," he hums almost fondly.

As if he's an industrial-sized magnet and you're made of steel, it takes all your effort and will to let go of his hand, and you only do so after holding it almost suspiciously long. At least he doesn't seem to mind.

"Okay, uh…" you start, trying to regain your composure as you look at your notes again. "Temperature. Would you let me stick a thermometer in your mouth?"

"Are you wiping it off first?" he grins, watching your face as you put the list down and step away to rummage through one of the cabinets.

Fighting a smile, you roll your eyes at him over your shoulder as you grab a thermometer from the container of brand-new ones and rip it from its plastic.

You wave it in the air as if a thermometer that hasn't measured the inner temps of a hundred dog butts is a luxury reserved for the few. "Unused. Just for you."

Chuckling, he watches you approach, opening his mouth obediently to let you place the metal tip on his tongue, his lips closing around it.

"Keep it under the tongue. It takes a few seconds."

While you wait, you lift your hand, tentatively resting the back of it against his forehead just to feel again. His dark eyes are on you every second, but you try to focus anyway. Estimating a temperature by touch is hard, but he's definitely warmer. A fever this high often makes a human's skin feel clammy, but Jeongguk doesn't look ill, and his skin feels normal to the touch. Just warm.

A moment later, the thermometer beeps and you retrieve it carefully from his mouth. Jeongguk keeps his warm gaze on your face, more interested in your reaction than the actual result. And there's definitely a reaction. The moment you read the numbers off the small screen, your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink in disbelief.

"I'm… gonna try another one," you mumble, tossing the probably faulty thermometer in the trash and heading to the cabinet to grab a replacement.

"What did it show?"

"42 degrees Celsius."

He looks at you with a small, knowing smile.

"You knew?"

"I think I'm usually around 41.8 to 42. But it's been a few decades since I last tested. I think the last thermometer showed 107.7."

"Fahrenheit, I take it?"

He nods.

"At least it's consistent then. Would you mind…?" You hold up the new one.

This time, he reaches out to take the offered device from your hand. "You don't believe me?" he asks, but the amused smile playing on his lips tells you he isn't actually offended.

You shake your head, watching him casually slide it between his lips. The way he shifts it into place, hands-free, under his tongue is insanely attractive, highlighting both his sharp jaw and sculpted cheekbones.

"I want to believe you, but… everything I know says that this is impossible. A human, showing 42 degrees would… would be dead." You shake your head in disbelief. "Or at least hanging on by a thin damn thread."

Two seconds later, the thermometer beeps. He plucks it from his mouth, glances at the number, and hands it to you. Like the last time, you stare at the result, trying to make sense of it. 41.9.

"And I take it you didn't drink anything hot right before knocking on that door?"

"You mean like coffee?"

You nod, waiting for the answer that explains his abnormal temp.

"I don't drink coffee. All I've had today is blood, heated to 37 degrees. And that was…" he trails off, lifting his eyes to look at the clock. "Four hours ago."

You study him and his slightly lopsided smile for a few seconds, thinking deeply. Then, unceremoniously, you shove the thermometer under your own tongue. He watches you, still amused and maybe surprised, while you hold the end of it, waiting for the beep.

It comes, interrupting the silence, and you pull the thermometer out.

"36.5," you state. "It checks out; I'm usually a little on the colder side. But if you really are 42 degrees, I should've noticed. In that bathroom, when you put your hand over my mouth, why didn't I notice?"

He shrugs, thinking back to that night. "I… held the cold, metal railing while we were outside? My hands were probably chillier than usual."

Quietly, you revisit the memory too. And yeah, you remember him standing next to you, large hands gripping that iron bar as you spoke. It was cold, and it's a scientifically plausible explanation.

"But if you're… If you're really 42 degrees…" You trail off, trying to process exactly what a body temperature that high would entail. "Do you mind if I listen to your heart? And lungs?"

"Be my guest."

Returning to the table where all your stuff has accumulated, you scan the area.

"Stethoscope?"

"Huh?" you glance back at him.

He nods toward your neck. "If you're looking for the stethoscope."

"Oh." Your hand flies up, fingers brushing the rubber tubing of said stethoscope.

Jeongguk smiles. Surely, he knows exactly that he's the reason you're slightly off your game. All day practically every day, the stethoscope hangs around your neck, yet his mere presence has you forgetting.

Cheeks burning, you put the earpieces in place.

"I'll have to go under the shirt," you inform, looking at him for permission.

He nods, and you step closer, trying to decide where to go in from. The neckline of his t-shirt is rather high, and doesn't look to be very stretchy. With no better option, you grip the hem, lifting it to just underneath his chest.

Even as he's seated—his golden skin creating two truly tiny skin rolls on his stomach—there's an outline of abs.

"This might feel cold."

"It's okay."

Beginning to notice a pattern, you're very aware of his quiet gaze on your face, all until you actually put the chestpiece against the left side of his chest, and your focus changes.

Popping one of the earpieces out, you look at his face with wide eyes. "You're bradycardic?"

"If that means my heart is beating slowly, yes."

"Yeah. A temperature like yours indicates a very high metabolic rate, which in turn means a huge requirement for oxygen. It would make more sense for your heart to beat faster just to keep the tissues from starving."

He only hums in return, a low sound that vibrates up the stethoscope and into the one ear still connected.

"Yet your heart is beating slowly, even for a human. You don't happen to know how big it is?"

You don't realize what you asked him until he smiles at you, his eyebrows raised.

Cheeks burning once more, you resist the urge to slap his shoulder. "Your heart."

"I think it's relatively normal-sized" he says, and you can tell by his cheeky smile and the glint in his eyes that he hasn't quite let go of the accidental innuendo yet.

"You're just a guy, aren't you?" you mutter, rolling your eyes yet fighting a smile as you put the earpiece back in. Good to know that men are men, no matter human or vampire. "I'm gonna listen some more."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest, and you close your eyes in order to focus on something else than his pretty face and the happy grin.

Although the sound is slightly… muffled, Jeongguk's heartbeat still sounds strong. It's slow, almost heavy, but not like it's struggling at all. In a way, his heart is almost soothing to listen to. With a soft hand, you move the chestpiece around, listening to his heart from different angles. Besides the low frequency of its beats, it sounds normal.

"Lift your arm slightly for me?" you mumble, moving your hand and the chestpiece around to his side when he does, satisfied to find the sound clearer there.

You flutter your eyes open to look at the wall-mounted clock, counting every heartbeat.

The seconds pass in silence. Everything is so quiet, except for the rhythmic thumping of Jeongguk's heart in your ears. Count for 30 seconds, then double it.

36.

You count again, letting another 30 seconds pass. He doesn't move, and neither do you.

"Your heart beats 36 beats a minute," you inform him, meeting his gaze and stepping back, his shirt falling back down.

Jeongguk doesn't say anything, he just watches you with those dark eyes and a soft and curious, yet calm, look. To listen to his lungs, you circle the table, carefully lifting his shirt again, from the back this time, and sliding your hand and the stethoscope's chestpiece up the wide expanse of his back. It's like you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You close your eyes again, tuning out the room. "Take a deep breath for me?"

He complies, and the sound of air rushing in is deep, clear, and seemingly bottomless.

"Again, please. Until I say."

While he continues to breathe slowly and deeply, you slide the chestpiece around, listening to all parts of his left lung. Then, you move it across his spine, examining the right lung as well before you step back, letting his shirt fall back down. Even though you didn't touch him skin-to-skin, merely stepping away from his body makes you feel… colder.

"Okay, thank you. You have good lungs," you conclude, walking back around the table to face him. "They don't quite sound… supernatural; just like you have great capacity."

You return the stethoscope to its default position around your neck, locating the notes on the table with your mind reeling. You then stare at his chest, watching the slow and rhythmic rise and fall as you try to form your thoughts into coherent words.

"Since your heart and lungs sound… relatively normal—and by that I mean your heart isn't beating as quickly as a hummingbird's to deliver enough oxygen, and you don't have air sacs providing a far more… continuous stream of oxygen—the magic must be in your blood."

Subconsciously, you tap your pen to the paper in a rhythm similar to that of his heart, your mouth pressed into a thin line as you think.

"But the thing is that… the temperature is also a symptom of an extreme metabolism, but also what would destroy the blood needed to power that metabolism. Hemoglobin and enzymes and all that are all proteins, and proteins are essentially cooked at the temperature you are."

"Human blood."

You meet his eyes. "Yeah, human blood and human proteins would be cooked. Which means… You probably have… different structured proteins or something."

You rub your temple, mind in overdrive. "There are beings around your temp. Birds, specifically volant birds—meaning those that fly—are hotter than mammals, some of them reaching up to 43 degrees, and they have a lot of these… Heat Shock Proteins that protect their proteins from the heat."

You think hard, wondering why a vampire would share features with birds. "Maybe you rely on those as well? Or maybe you just run on… Mountain Dew or something."

Jeongguk chuckles at your slightly desperate joke.

"Sounds cool," he says, tilting his head in an incredibly attractive manner. "The bird proteins, I mean. Why are birds warmer?"

"Flying requires an almost absurd amount of energy and therefor a higher metabolism, and a higher metabolism generates heat. Could I look at your eyes for a bit?" you ask, fighting to keep your nerdiness somewhat at bay.

"Sure." He waits while you fish a penlight from the breast pocket of your scrubs. "What is it that you're hoping to see? Or… not to see?"

"I honestly have no idea." You reach up to turn the overhead light off since you'll need a more controlled light. "You could tell me you either have the vision of a hawk or that your sense of smell is so developed and your vision so useless that you're legally blind."

He grins. "Like a T-Rex?"

"I think that was confirmed to be a myth, actually. Supposedly, T-Rex had very good vision."

He blinks, then laughs softly. "Sorry, seems my dino knowledge isn't up to date."

"No worries, I'm probably too up to date, but then again, animals are sort of my interest." You smile sheepishly, moving on. "Would you say that you see well?"

"Yeah. I think I saw pretty well as a human too, but I honestly can't really remember. I definitely see better now, though."

You nod, pressing a button that lowers the table he's sitting on two notches just to get a better angle.

"That's interesting. In that case, I'd say it makes sense that you see well. Again, birds—coincidentally also dino-descendants—are well-known to have sharp vision. Hawks and eagles specifically have the most advanced eye-sight out of any vertebrae."

"Is there a specific reason?" he asks, gaze tracking the penlight as you bring it to his face.

"Well, they hunt small animals from usually high in the sky—"

But the moment you click the penlight on and shine it at his left eye, the pupil shrinks. A lot.

You stumble back.

"Sorry," you mumble. "That surprised me."

"My pupil?" he wonders softly.

"Yeah, I didn't expect it to constrict that much. Because they're not always that small, right? Your eyes are so dark that I—" you stop, a realization hitting you.

You wouldn't have noticed. He could've walked around with pupils the size of pin pricks, and you would've been none the wiser.

"They're not, no. But I guess it could be a reason there are practically only dark-eyed vampires."

Still a little shaken, you bite your lip, watching him. Without the bright light pointed directly at his eyes, they look human. Very, very dark, but human.

"Deliberate camouflage?"

"Yeah. Our eyes can clearly be jarring."

Clearly.

"Possibly," you mumble. "Tell me, do you see well in the dark, too?"

"I'd say so. I can't remember the last time a place was too dark for me to see anything in."

You nod, your gaze drifting off as you consider the meaning. "Maybe there are multiple reasons? Brighter eyes let more light through, but eyes capable of good night vision are usually more light sensitive. Darker eyes with more melanin block some of that light."

A thought hits you, and you back away from him. "I wonder…"

At the door, you reach your hand out, flicking the light off. In an instant, you're swallowed by darkness, and for the first few seconds, you don't see anything at all. Then, gradually, your vision returns as your eyes do their best to adjust. The small amount of light in the room comes from a window further in, behind Jeongguk. It's of course dark outside as well, but there's a tiny bit of moonlight that leaks inside, and it clings to his dark, motionless silhouette.

Jeongguk sits there. He doesn't do anything in particular that warrants your reaction, but his unmoving shape, watching you, makes goosebumps line your arms and a chill run down your spine. It feels like when you're waking up in the middle of the night, for a second frozen with fear and wholly convinced that the dark mass of clothes on a chair is a man, watching you.

It does not get better when you raise the penlight, holding it next to your face and clicking it on to aim for his eyes. They shine back. Two big, round, bright reflections, like walking in the woods late at night and accidentally shining your light on a silent, unmoving creature, nothing but their eyes reflecting.

You think that's when it actually hits you. Swiftly, you flick the switch back on, relieved when light floods the room. Jeongguk hasn't moved; still watching you like he has the entire night, but the growing discomfort in your stomach is hard to shake.

"You have tapetum lucidum," you state, finding the note to write the findings down. The letters are a little more squiggly than those from fifteen minutes ago. "And your pupils definitely expand."

"Tapetum…?" he echoes. "That's the reflections?"

"Yeah. Present in species that need to see well in the dark."

You keep your gaze locked onto the paper, trying to calm your heart. Faking the teeth, the temperature, and the heart rate would've been hard, but this…? The man sitting on the exam table behind you is not human.

Not human.

Not only that. While present in both prey and predators, Jeongguk's tapetum are not the wide band of prey animals worried about getting eaten, but the circular shape that helps predators track their target in the dark. Just like some sort of shape shifter, he's taken on the look of his prey, both to blend in and to deceive. The name skin-walker flashes in your mind.

"I'm not a threat to you."

His low and soft voice gathers your attention. Of course, he realized. He has his head slightly tilted, looking at you when you lift your gaze from the paper.

"Yeah," you manage to say, forcing your voice steady. "It's just very weird to see all of this, realizing that I am your intended prey. All of these physiological feats just to kill me."

"You're scared."

"I wouldn't say scared, maybe more… nervous."

You don't hold eye contact, instead diving back into your notes even just to collect yourself. Is it a lie to say that you're more nervous than scared? Who knows.

"I'm sorry for what I did at the bar, but you don't have to be afraid of me. I promise."

You bite your lip, weighing the pros and cons. Risk vs reward. You've already established (to yourself) that he probably hasn't had the intention to kill you because if so then he would've already, but things can change. And that's regarding intention; you're sure… accidents happen.

"It's up to you of course," he adds softly, moving his hands over his thighs as he shifts on the table. "But if there's anything else you'd like to see, I'm all yours."

I'm all yours.

You look at him, your gaze traveling down his body in a purely (or at least mostly) curious and clinical way. His neck, his wide shoulders and chest, his muscular arms and legs. You shut your eyes for a brief moment, trying to deny how his subtle submission has yet another little spark igniting. Sure, you might be nervous, but what is the alternative? Send him away?

'You're the most interesting being I have ever and will ever see, but I'm a bit of a wimp even though you've only really been nice, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. Bye!'

Yeah, right.

"Am I the dumbest human you've ever met, or what?" you ask, awkwardly approaching him again. "With the self-preservation sense of something like… a leaf. But… Could I look at your lymph nodes?"

"Out of the relatively few humans I've gotten to know over the years, you're by far the smartest," he answers easily, making your heart flutter. "But yeah, you can. Where?"

You stifle a sheepish smile. "Are you trying to butter me up? Your neck."

He chuckles, shifting on the table to give you more access. While you wouldn't have considered it necessary, he also happens to spread his thick thighs, giving you room to stand between them. If you'd like.

Although you could reach his neck without it, you do decide to take that additional step, putting you between his legs but without touching them. Slowly, you then lift your hands, carefully placing them on either side of his neck.

He's so warm, and it radiates through your entire body and melts you in more ways than one. With one hand on each side, you move your fingers gently, feeling for the lymph nodes under his jaw.

"Your skin feels… different," you murmur, thinking aloud. "It's soft and… smooth, but it feels just a little more… dense? Not something I would've noticed if I didn't already know you were different…" You find the nodes, pressing a little firmer. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No. It tickles a little, though," he smiles. You keep your endeared gaze on his neck, already aware that he's watching you. No matter what you do, his eyes seem to always be on your face.

"Your lymph nodes are much harder than a human's," you frown, moving your index and middle fingers over two nodes in particular. "They should feel like… soft beans, but yours are more like… small stones. In a human or animal, that could mean something like cancer."

Logically, you (insanely!) know now that he's not human like you. He's not human, therefore, the state of his lymph nodes shouldn't automatically be the serious concern it would be for one of your kind.

"You don't have to be worried," he assures, his voice rumbling against your fingertips. God, how easy are you to read?

You meet his eyes, not bothering to hide the worry-induced wrinkle between your brows when already called out. "Are they always like this, though? Rigid?"

Raising his hands, he presses his fingers against his own neck to check the spot you just touched. Your hands graze briefly as you lower yours, but you try to ignore it. Considering how long it takes him to find his lymph nodes, you assume he most likely doesn't check regularly.

"I don't know? I don't usually feel for them?"

As suspected. "Okay, and you're not sick? Haven't been recently?"

"No, but I don't really get sick in the way you probably mean," he says, a small smile tugging on his lips.

You raise your eyebrows curiously, backing up and reaching for the notes. "No?"

"Yeah. The temperature," he reminds you.

"Right." You nod. "Human viruses don't survive in you. But I'm sure there are vampire ailments?"

"A few, yeah."

You put the pen to your lip as you sit down on the chair again, leaning back comfortably. "Like what? Something entirely different or just… viruses like ours, but specifically adapted to survive a hotter host?"

"No, not really. Ironically, most of our diseases come from humans. Do you wanna guess?" he grins.

"You mean, like, diseases caused by factors other than a standard virus?"

"Yeah. If I say that the vampire population decreased pretty drastically in the 80s and 90s? And in the 1800s."

You scratch your chin. "Separate causes?"

"Yeah."

Leaning back even further, you think hard.

"It shouldn't be HIV since that's a virus," you think out loud, trying to filter through human and epidemic history. More specifically, blood-borne pathogens since that seems most logical. "Or Ebola. But it's something I should know? Not like… 'Vampire Disease number five?'"

Jeongguk chuckles, running his hand through his black hair once. "I'd be surprised if you didn't know."

Your gaze locks onto the white ceiling as you cross your arms and tap the pen against your lips. What happened in the 80s and 90s? Something that spread among humans, you assume, although you don't rule out animal diseases entirely.

"Wait," your eyes widen and you sit up straighter. Maybe it wasn't something targeting humans or animals, but both.

"Mad Cow Disease?"

He grins, nodding.

"That makes sense," you breathe, the puzzle pieces falling into place. "Viruses don't survive in you, but Mad Cow is faulty prions. They don't die from heat, at least not your body temperature. And although it's more likely to be transmitted by ingesting brain or spine-connected tissue, they can be passed on from blood as well."

"Yeah."

You pause. "But… how did they die? What were the symptoms?"

"Tremors, stumbling, acting… mad…"

"So the same as for humans?"

"Yeah. It's from the bacteria eating at the brain, right?"

"Prions, but yeah. They destroy them."

"Right. They'd eat at the brain, but since we heal so quickly, our bodies could repair the damage. The problem was that we couldn't truly get rid of the… prions, and so it became a cycle since the prions kept eating and we'd try to heal it."

"But… the prions target proteins found in the brain. Proteins that, in a human or animal, wouldn't survive at your temperature… What were the prions binding to?"

He shrugs. "Honestly, I don't know. There must've been something?"

"Maybe the disease mutated? To also target whatever proteins I'm sure you have? And… you said the population decreased?"

"Yes. A vampire without the common sense to hide, hunting humans… openly and ravenously…"

"You culled them," you conclude, wide eyed.

He nods, his expression having turned somber. "We need the humans not to fear us. Or at least, it's easier to live if they don't, so that's why they can't know about us."

"I see… And for the 1800s… Different cause?"

"Yeah. Technically, starvation was the actual cause of death."

You lean back again, brow furrowed in concentration. What could be the reason vampires starved in the 1800s?

"Logically, they starved because there wasn't enough food. Human history isn't my best subject, but wasn't the human population still expanding rapidly? Unless… was it connected to the Great Famine? Fewer humans mean less blood."

"It's not that. Quantity has never been a problem for us."

"Okay, if it's not the quantity then it's the quality, right? The blood was bad."

He watches you, curiously waiting for you to reach the conclusion, the previous flash of melancholy gone. "Yes, that's how it transferred. I'll help you out; one symptom was a slowly progressing… paralysis."

"So… they couldn't hunt?"

He shakes his head, and your brain works overtime, trying to find a reason. What kind of poisoning occurred in the 1800s that would paralyze vampires? What could make humans poisonous?

Food… disease… environ—

You sit up straighter again. "Were their gums blue? Either humans' and or vampires'?"

Jeongguk nods, the slight excitement on his face contagious. He's so attractive when he smiles like that; his otherwise round eyes thinning and crinkling at the corners.

"Lead poisoning," you conclude, grinning.

Feeling proud of your diagnosis (even with the help), you spin a victory lap on the chair. But as the room spins around you, a thought hits.

You put your feet to the linoleum floor, stopping abruptly. You're not grinning anymore, your eyes wide and your voice investigative. "But… you were alive then? For both of them."

"Yeah."

"How did you survive? Mad Cow didn't kill that many humans, but I'm sure there were a ton of carriers. And lead poisoning?"

"I happened to be living in New Zealand during that time," he explains, crossing his ankles. "It wasn't as much of a problem there as it was in places like England, where they were, you know, feeding ground-up brains to their cattle. Even as it spread to other parts of the world, we were safe."

"Huh," you hum. "And the heavy metal poisoning? Wasn't that incredibly widespread? Mercury in the wallpaper and such?"

"Arsenic," he corrects with a smile. "Mercury was for hats and medicine. Arsenic was the green wallpaper. But to answer your question; I had never left Korea back then, where the use of metals like that wasn't as bad."

"So you were lucky? Happened to be in safe spots both times?"

"No, not entirely. While it was practically everywhere in parts of the West, Koreans used it mostly as makeup. Pale faces and rosy cheeks and lips were all the rage back in Joseon, the higher quality stuff of course made with lead and cinnabar."

Jeongguk shifts on the table, eyes temporarily leaving yours as he leans back on his arms and casually thinks back to what must feel like an entirely different world.

"Us vampires, while having our own societies and trends, also need to keep up with the humans'. Most of the time, we're just as involved and participating."

His eyes find yours again, and you can see that he views at least the makeup trends with amusement.

"Naturally, vampire women painted their faces as well, but their skin didn't absorb the toxins like the humans' did."

"So how did it unfold? I mean, what made you survive while others didn't?"

"Shh," he hushes, pressing a finger to his lips with a teasing glint in his eye. "Patience."

You narrow your eyes at him, wordlessly cursing him. He can't truly expect you to sit quiet?

"It wasn't just the vampire women following the current beauty trends, but a large portion of vampires—male ones mostly—preferred to drink from the pale human women. Besides being rich and therefore superior," he chuckles, "they were beautiful and pure, and their blood had a certain… sweetness to it. While the poor tried to replicate the results, their makeup—made of ground rice or millet—lacked the lead that made it stick to the skin better. They simply couldn't achieve the same… finish."

A chill runs down your spine as he locks eyes with you, and you fight the shiver that threatens to rack your entire body.

A vision flashes before your eyes. Jeongguk, dressed in more time appropriate clothing you can only guess at—maybe the brown garb of a commoner or the traditional silk robes of a nobleman—holding a beautiful, well-dressed woman with pale skin and red lips against her will. His fangs are buried deep in her neck, and she's desperately struggling against his immovable hold, a red comparable to her lips running down her neck.

"After a while, humans would start showing subtle signs of poisoning," he resumes. "Like the blue gums. Back then, no one knew what it was, of course, or if it was dangerous. You couldn't see that they were already years into their decline, their insides pumped full of toxins. The humans didn't think much of it and neither did we. After all, human ailments come and go; they rarely affect us.

"But their symptoms escalated, and they went from having slight tremors to not being able to lift their arms. As the first humans, confused and often… mad—just like Mad Cow—started dying of malnutrition, the first vampires started showing symptoms as well.

"If it had been direct—if a human's gums had turned blue an hour after applying the paint, or a vampire's immediately after drinking from a pale-faced woman—it would've been a lot easier. Or even if all poisoned showed the same symptoms, which they didn't.

"When vampires did start to show symptoms… I mean, we figured it was the humans, since contaminated blood is our biggest, arguably even our only weakness. But we couldn't be sure what it was. Most of us got the blue gums; I did too."

You hear yourself let out a little gasp, completely immersed in his story-telling. Worry and empathy for the past version of him fills you; you can barely imagine what it would be like to see others succumb to some slow and mysterious illness and then find that you might be next in line.

"Still, a few bright vampires theorized whether the blue gums were just one of the first visible symptoms of whatever was killing the humans. Something that also seemed to hit the wealthy harder. Others disagreed and did not plan on giving up feeding from the rich."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Why not? If you suspected they were more susceptible?"

"Sounds easy, right? The problem was that the lead made the humans' blood so sweet it was addicting. Those who had preferred the wealthy blood even before the first symptoms appeared, they were already too far gone and couldn't quit. Some didn't care at all about the possible connection; others argued that the commoners' dirty blood was to blame and that the rich, pure blood was the only cure. Looking back now, I definitely think the denial and insanity were part of the symptoms.

"For vampires like me, whose diet—out of convenience—consisted mostly of commoners, mixed with the odd wealthy… meal, the toxins in our bodies built up over the years all the same. We just hadn't consumed enough to be addicted. As time went on and the demand for the beautiful, rich women rose, they became more and more of a rarity, and a lot of us turned entirely to common blood. Meanwhile, addicted vampires fought and even killed each other over the rich women."

A shiver does rack you at that as you imagine what the women must've felt like. Did they realize that something possibly… non-human was hunting them as one by one disappeared? Did one of them walk through the town at night, looking over her shoulder only to see a shape lurking in the shadows? Did she only survive because she ran when the man who stalked her, ready to pounce, had his head cracked against the stone wall by another of his kind?

You don't know if it makes you feel better or worse that vampires seem to be just as ruthless and ignorant as humans. Creeped out, you lower your gaze to your paper.

"One after the other, they would lose their strength and ability to move quickly—or even at all. But for those of us who weren't desperate for the rich women's blood, our bodies would get the chance to cleanse and heal. I didn't stick around to find that out, though. When I started feeling… stiff, and I one day happened to notice the blue line on my gums, I got nervous. I left town."

Though his story intrigues you, the constant mention of humans as food makes you feel nauseous. Somewhere deep down, you of course realized that Jeongguk had probably fed on humans before—maybe even killed some—but to hear it confirmed so casually? If he's done it before, why wouldn't he do it again? Instinctively, you touch the side of your neck.

"Maybe I should've skipped that story."

You look up, seeing his apologetic smile. Taking a breath, you peer down at the note, absentmindedly folding it neatly in half. "No," you shake your head. "It's just that… I mean, how do I know…"

"That I won't eat you?"

"Yeah," you breathe, laughing awkwardly.

"I don't want to, and I don't need to," he says, his voice firm. "There weren't as many options back then."

While you can believe that society would've changed for everyone, supernatural beings included, you can't say how much you believe he'd prefer the powdered deer blood. Out of convenience? Sure. If he has the chance to drain someone of their warm, fresh, pulsing blood?

"And how… how much can you trust that?"

"You mean if I have instincts I can't control?"

"Yeah. Like the grilled chicken," you mumble.

"I have all my needs and… desires satisfied. It's not tempting to hurt you; I don't want to do it, and I don't need to do it."

"You can control the… urge?"

He tilts his head softly. "Yes."

"Do you promise?" you ask carefully, forcing a small smile to ease the tension you feel.

"Yeah. Honestly, I think I should be more afraid of you eating me than the other way around."

Just like that, most of the tension in your shoulders dissipates, and you meet his amused eyes. "Oh, come on. Can you really fault me for being interested in you?"

He tilts his head again, eyebrows rising when he reconsiders the meaning of his words. "That's not how I meant it. I just meant that… I'm harmless. You're practically a bigger danger to me than I am to you."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But I can't say I don't enjoy the attention." He grins, gripping the edge of the table and leaning forward. You try not to stare at his arms and the veins spanning them.

Instead, you force your embarrassed gaze back down to your notes. "Anyway," you take a deep breath, trying to regain your focus. "So, when you stopped ingesting the lead, the symptoms went away?"

"Yeah. I stopped feeling stiff, and the blue line eventually faded. Unfortunately, a lot of affected vampires never gave their bodies time to get rid of the lead, thus worsening the paralysis until they starved. If they didn't kill each other over the rich humans' blood first."

"How long did it take? How long can you go without blood?"

"Depends. Right now, I reckon I could go like… a few months before I die. Four or five, maybe. A few days without blood and my body cools and slows down to save energy. A week and it starts eating the fat reserves. That would last for about three months."

"Three months on fat? Your fat?" you comment skeptically. Jeongguk is lean, like… 95% muscle.

He smiles. "Yeah, even though I have a rather low body fat percentage, my body is very efficient at breaking down nutrients, so the fat I do have lasts me a long time."

You wonder to yourself if his fat is the same type as a human's, considering he primarily runs on iron. "And then?"

"After that, the body burns muscle, like a human's."

"And then you die?"

"Yeah…"

But there's something in the way he says that—briefly glancing in another direction—that has you narrowing your eyes. "Is there another stage? Or do you just never actually die and you—for some reason—don't want me to know that?"

He sighs, shifting uncomfortably. "No, it's… I don't want to scare you because it's not something you'll ever encounter."

"But…?" You urge, feeling a worry grow in your stomach.

"Before a vampire starves to death, they enter a stage of 'rage.'"

It takes you a second, but then you're throwing an educated guess at him. "Instead of conserving that last bit of energy to prolong life, you use it to go after everything in sight on the off chance you succeed? And survive?"

"Essentially," he nods. "Of course, that didn't happen during the lead poisoning. If a vampire survived long enough for it to kick in, they were typically too paralyzed. They couldn't move much."

Well… you understand why he was hesitant to tell you. Possibly the one thing scarier than a conniving, contemplating vampire, is one that doesn't care and has absolutely nothing left to lose.

"Oh," you swallow. "And… how often does a vampire starve that long today?"

"Never. I haven't heard of anyone starving to death in the last… at least forty years. To be clear, If I stopped eating tomorrow, I'd still be miles away from here before I'd enter any kind of impulsive stage."

There's a sharp pain somewhere in your chest. Right, he's supposed to leave town again. Whatever discomfort you felt hearing about the raging vampires of the past turns into another kind of heavy, sinking feeling.

"Where are you going? If you don't mind me asking?" you wonder, doing your best to sound curious and not like it's the bummer of the century, which it is; both for you and the science you'll never share.

"I've been living in Rio for the last decades, actually. So I'm heading back, either directly, or I take a trip past some friends scattered across Europe first."

"And you're not coming back here very soon, I take it?"

"No."

The finality of his answer surprises you. "Not soon or just… never? What about your house?"

"I'll return someday, just probably not during your lifetime. I haven't decided about the house yet, but it's not that expensive to keep an old house like that."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So you better ask your questions before I leave."

He offers you that warm and handsome smile of his, but you struggle to return it, hoping he doesn't see how uncomfortable his words make you. Or the reminder of truly how old he is.

'I'll return someday, just probably not during your lifetime.'

Because is that not the most melancholic sentence you've ever heard? To him, your life must not be much more than a blip. A fleeting moment while time barely touches him. You can't even imagine what it's like to see and participate in a society yet not really be a part of it. Watch it shift from horse-drawn carriages, candlelight, and emperors to planes, the internet, and democracy. To watch humans live their short lives around you and then die. Their ups and downs, childhoods, teens, adulthood, old age, a never-ending change, yet you stand at the sidelines, frozen in time.

How odd and… uncomfortable.

You look at your list again, adding a small, less prioritized 'mental state?' at the bottom.

"Right, lymph nodes. Well, they were very rigid. I take it because your body and immune system is very active. Maybe they're a little scarred from the lead poisoning and everything."

"Possibly."

While writing a summarized version down, you let out a yawn. Something Jeongguk doesn't miss.

"Didn't you say something about needing to sleep?" he questions.

You look at him briefly. "No?"

"I meant last time we talked."

Dropping your gaze to the paper once more, you do your best to avoid his eyes.

Usually, when you work the night shift, you schedule short naps and frequent alarms. All depending on the inpatient animals and their conditions, of course. If a patient needs constant monitoring but remains asleep themselves, you find other ways to keep busy.

Staying awake certainly hasn't been a problem tonight. Not at all. Until the last fifteen minutes, at least. That's when you felt it start to creep up. And while you're definitely tired now, there's just so many things you need to see. So many questions to ask.

Chuckling, he calls your name; a sound that elicits an extra beat from your weak heart.

"Yes, okay," you admit. "I should rest a little."

"Should I leave?" he wonders, turning to grab his jacket.

You shut your eyes, reluctant to say the words, but sighing in defeat. "I think that's best, or I won't be able to sleep."

Luckily, he doesn't seem to take offense. If anything, his grin widens as he pulls on his jacket and jumps down from the exam table.

"If you insist on kicking me out," he teases, already heading toward the exit while peering back over his shoulder at you.

You can't help but pout as you follow, struggling to keep up. "I'm not kicking you out. Actually, you brought it up."

His strides slow. "Oh? Should I stay then?"

You shut your eyes tightly. "No," you huff, "you're too interesting."

Ego boosted beyond what's probably healthy, Jeongguk laughs. "So I should leave?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, alright. Since you have no time for me, I'll just have to tell you about my super strength, or the fact that I don't really need to consume fluid, next time?"

With wide eyes and suddenly incredibly stressed, you jog to catch up, carefully but very desperately grabbing hold of his black jacket to stop him. You've already made it past the reception desk and to the front door, where he halts.

"No, no, no, hold up. No fluids? At all? Besides the blood, right? Or do you mean you could technically eat the powdered blood and be fine? For how long?"

"I guess it'll have to wait till next time," he sighs in faux sadness, unlocking the door and opening it.

He's halfway through it when you pull on his jacket again. "No, no, no, you can't say that and just leave?"

When he turns to face you, your hand slides from the back of his jacket to clutch at the front. What you're really trying to accomplish, you're not sure. Maybe you just hope he'll give you something.

"You'll be too tired for your next shift, and you wouldn't want to risk the animals' care, would you?"

You shoot him a desperate, pleading look. "I'll call in sick."

"Aren't you already understaffed? Don't think your colleagues would appreciate that."

That fucking smile. So handsome and sweet but so teasing. God.

"When do you get off?" he asks.

"Four a.m.," you answer, hoping selfishly that maybe he'll offer to return to walk you home, giving you more time with him. There are still three whole hours left.

For some reason, he holds his hand out to you instead. Dumbfounded—and with your heart skipping every other beat—you meet his eyes with your confused ones, slowly letting go of his jacket to put your hand in his warm one.

"Text me when you've made it home safely. You have my number somewhere in your files."

Then, he lifts your joined hands above your head. He spins you—a smooth and deliberate twirl—while simultaneously using your raised hand to pull you backward, toward the clinic. The momentum has you stumbling back inside while the glass door closes between you.

As you regain your balance, you catch sight of his happy grin through the glass before he turns, disappearing into the night.

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author's note: i hope you liked it!!! and that if you did you'd consider reblogging and telling me your thoughts because i live for discussions and vamp!jk (and vet!reader !!!!) is my baby!! <3

[somehowukook]

Everything she writes is golden, I just can’t get enoughhhhhh