⤷"mini" one-shot!! in which....The perilla leaf debate in general is supposed to be nothing more than a stupid internet argument, until Jungkook nearly starts a war at dinner over Jimin helping you separate yours.
pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x fem!reader
warnings: friends to lovers, jk is down horrendous, jealousy over vegetables, mutual pining, lovesick idiot behavior, perilla leaves almost ruin a friendship, secondhand embarrassment, yearning, jimin stirs the pot for fun, kissing, tooth-rotting fluff, jk loses the perilla leaf war but gets the girl
word count: 1,5k
masterlist
The group chat has been blowing up since 4 p.m.
taehyung: pls tell me someone wants to go have dinner tonight. i'm dying of academic boredom
hobi: literally same. i haven't seen sunlight in 3 days
namjoon: i found this place downtown. it's called "korean fusion." wait, i'll send the address.
jimin: i hope everyone is coming... unless i might have to delete a certain someone's animal crossing save files
you: threats??? really???
jk: she's coming
you: umh??? i didn't even answer yet
jungkook: you're coming
The restaurant is the most Instagrammable place you've ever seen, and you would have gotten there faster if your roommate hadn't been in desperate need of moral support over a situationship. You see Jungkook look up at you the second you enter his peripheral vision.
"Finally," Taehyung says.
"Sorry, sorry." You slide into the booth, and there's only one spot left, wedged between Jimin and the wall, directly across from Jungkook. "Emergency friend duties."
"More important than us?" Hobi asks.
"You'll live," you say, but you're not paying attention because Jungkook is still staring at you. Your eyes meet. He doesn't look away. Your stomach flips, and you wonder if you should have done this another day because emotional rollercoasters don't sound like a great idea on an empty stomach.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," you say back.
A few minutes later, the drinks and the banchan arrive. Jungkook is laughing at something Taehyung is saying, beer in hand, but he keeps glancing at you every time you reach for the banchan. You don't notice as you are trying your best to separate the stack of perilla leaves.
"Oh my God," you mutter, trying to separate them with your chopsticks. "Why are they like this?"
"Here," Jimin says, and his chopsticks slide in from your left, holding the stack steady while you pull one free.
"Thank you," you breathe, relieved, and you don't see the way Jungkook's knuckles go white around his glass.
You look up, and Jungkook is staring at Jimin, and it's nothing like the soft, longing looks he's been throwing your way all night. Jimin, oblivious, or perhaps not, hums as he sets the separated leaves on your plate.
"Jungkook-ah," Namjoon says from across the table. "Pass the garlic?"
Jungkook passes it without looking up.That's when you realize he's staring at the perilla leaves.
Oh.
Oh no.
You know about the perilla leaf debate. Everyone knows about the perilla leaf debate. It's a stupid thing where people argue whether it's okay to help someone else's partner separate their perilla leaves, whether it crosses a line, or not. Usually, usually, it's just internet debates and topics for variety shows.
Jungkook, however, looks like he's about to flip the table.
"So," Jimin says, "how's work been? Did you finish that powerpoint presentation?"
"Yeah, finally," you start to say, but Jungkook cuts in.
"She finished it yesterday," he says, pouring soju into your glass without asking.
Jimin's eyebrows lift. "Did she?"
"Mhm. She texted me at three in the morning," Jungkook says.
Namjoon looks up from his phone. Hobi pauses with his mouth full.
"Jungkook, that's not-" you say, blushing.
"Do you want some meat?" he asks instead, grabbing the kitchen scissors and carefully cutting the grilled pork belly into bite-sized pieces before placing them on your plate.
"Thanks..." you say slowly.
Jimin watches with his head tilted. He looks between you and Jungkook, then back to the perilla leaves.
"Ah," Jimin says softly.
"Ah what?" Taehyung asks.
"Nothing," Jimin says with a grin. He reaches for the perilla leaves again. "Do you want another one? These are really good." His chopsticks hover over the stack.
Jungkook's chopsticks hit his plate with a clatter.
"You don't have to. I'll do it," Jungkook says quickly.
"It's fine," Jimin says sweetly, separating another leaf. "I don't mind."
"I said," Jungkook replies, enunciating each word, "I'll do it."
He takes the leaf from Jimin's chopsticks and places it on your plate himself. Then he looks at Jimin with an expression that makes your stomach flip.
"Jungkook..." you say quietly.
"Eat," he tells you, looking at you with those soft eyes that could kill you.
Jimin leans back, studying Jungkook.
"What is it?" Hobi asks, looking between them.
"Just... perilla leaves," Jimin says. "You know the debate, right? Whether it's okay to help someone else's person with their leaves?"
The table goes absolutely silent and you want to disappear into the floor.
"Guys, seriously, it's not-"
"Some people think it's too intimate," Jimin continues, looking at Jungkook.
"And what do you think?" you ask.
Jimin shrugs playfully. "I think intention matters."
"What's your intention?" Jungkook asks.
Jimin holds his gaze for a long moment. Then he laughs, breaking the tension, and reaches over to pat Jungkook on the shoulder.
"Relax, maknae. I'm just teasing."
The rest of dinner passes quickly. Every time Jimin speaks to you, Jungkook finds a reason to touch you or get your attention. For the first time, it's not meant to be subtle. It's almost like a competition to see who hands you your coat when you leave or who walks closest to you on the way out.
Everyone agrees to walk to the Han River, grab some ice cream from a convenience store, and sit on the benches by the water. None of you are ready to go home yet.
You hang back, letting the others drift ahead. Jungkook stays beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets.
"You didn't have to do that," you say quietly.
"Do what?"
"Mark your territory."
He stops walking. You stop too, turning to face him.
"Is that what you think I was doing?" he asks.
"I don't know what you were doing, Jungkook. You acted like Jimin committed a crime by helping me with dinner."
He looks away. "You don't get it."
"Then explain it to me."
"The perilla leaf thing is stupid. I know it's stupid. But...I always want to be the one helping you. And I know I don't have the right to feel like that, but I do."
"Jungkook..." you say softly, trying to get him to look at you.
"Don't say whatever you're going to say. Let me just... let me have this one moment where I pretend it's okay that I feel this way, even though I'm your friend and I'm supposed to just be cool with Jimin flirting with you."
"He wasn't flirting."
"He was," Jungkook insists, finally looking at you. "Maybe he didn't mean it like that, but he was, and I hated it. I hated it so much. I wanted to be the one helping you, even with something as stupid as perilla leaves."
"You know," you say softly, "you could have just said something instead of starting a silent war at the dinner table."
"I don't know how to say things," he admits. "I only know how to... want... from a distance."
"That's the problem," you say as you reach out, your fingers finding his. His hand relaxes, and he threads his fingers through yours. "You think you're being subtle, but you're not. Everyone at that table knows exactly what's happening."
"Did you?"
"Yeah." You smile. "I know... and I think I've been waiting for you to help me with my perilla leaves for a pretty long time now."
"Don't joke."
"I'm not joking."
"Jimin was testing you, Kook."
"Testing me?"
"Yeah. He was messing with you. It was so obvious he was challenging you. He wanted to see if you'd finally do something about it." You smile. "He's not stupid. He saw it before either of us did."
Jungkook groans. "So I played right into his hands."
"And you were very dramatic about it," you say with a sigh.
"Shut up," he says, smiling.
"I liked it. I really like it when you stop being quiet about wanting."
He takes another small step closer. "So... can I help you with your perilla leaves next time?"
"Only if you're not doing it just to be polite."
He smiles nervously "I'm doing it because I want to be the person you reach for."
You look at him, at the tiny chocolate-chip mole beneath his lip that you've wanted to kiss for months.
Then you do.
You have to.
He's standing there with his heart in his hands, offering it to you like it's nothing.
His hands come up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing softly along your jaw as he kisses you back.
When you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours.
"Does this mean I won the war?" he asks, breathless.
"You were the only one fighting it, you idiot," you laugh, giving his chest a light shove. "Jimin wasn't actually interested. He has a crush on the barista at his coffee shop."
Jungkook blinks. "What?"
"Namjoon told me last week."
He stares at you, dropping his head to your shoulder. "I made a fool of myself for nothing."
"Not for nothing," you say, running your fingers gently through his soft hair. "You finally stopped being quiet."
He lifts his head.
"I can be loud," he says. "If you want. About this, about you."
"Show me."
"Gladly."
And he does. He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you smile against his lips.
Then Taehyung's voice carries over from farther up the path.
"Finally! Took you long enough!"
You laugh into his mouth and pull him even closer.
life was supposed to go forward the way you had always been told.
find someone, fall in love, get married, have kids.
that was the formula - the routine of every day life that you, yourself, had agreed to. it was supposed to be easy and carefree, the type of love that felt natural and yet definite. it was supposed to be certain.
jeon jungkook.
the love of your life. no one, nothing, could compare to him; the one constant in your life since you were no older than five. two years older than you, he had been the object of your infatuations even then, and though you both harboured a crush on one another as you grew up, it was only when you were 14 that you both actually pursued something.
you both came from broken homes, with your parents entangled in the world of drugs and abuse, his absent more times than present. you had each other though, and that was all either of you had ever really needed - that much had been true for years. it didn’t take long to fall in love with him, not when he treated you like blooming flowers in the first touch of spring; you were more than just his girl. you were his y/n.
no one blinked when he proposed, everyone half expecting it, and neither of you had wanted to wait to plan a lavish wedding when you were both the only constants in each other’s lives. and so, with cheap rings, a random dress you had found at the bottom of your wardrobe and his scuffed shoes - you had become husband and wife.
jungkook was the best partner you could have ever asked for. money was tight in the beginning as he threw himself into his job, making sure he had enough to spoil you rotten even if that meant coming home exhausted. it killed you to see him working so hard, but he never complained, not even once. it was done in the pursuit of his sweet wife, and therefore just.
he quickly began climbing the ranks, his intelligence unmatched, his speed and efficiency making him a force to be reckoned with. in a mere seven years, he had managed to go from the lowest ranking worker in the company right to head office, before formally being announced as ceo.
it was unheard of. people like him, people like you, they didn’t live like this. it felt like over night your entire life had changed, as the tiny, one bed apartment transformed into a penthouse suite in your city’s most reputable area, your beaten down car now more lavish than you could ever dream of. your clothes - silks, linens and luxurious patterns. you were a changed woman, all at the hands of your husband.
that was when the cracks had began to form.
the late nights began, jungkook holed up in his office for far longer than anyone else at the company, stacks of paper all around as he tried to crack numbers before the next day could bring its own workload. you didn’t mind at first, more so worried over anything else.
you packed late dinners, going up to his office and eating them with him just to keep him company, to ground him which he needed more than you could ever realise. he would sit you on his lap as he worked, all whilst you napped peacefully on his shoulder as though this was perfectly normal.
the first few months, it worked. after that, it could no longer hide the gaping hole that had begun to appear.
missed dinners. missed dates. jungkook showing up at two in the morning despite everyone else going home at five in the afternoon - this wasn’t normal. wasn’t healthy. the amount of arguments that were being caused due to his workaholic nature was alarming, especially considering neither of you had ever even raised your voices to one another prior to this.
your heart was getting heavier and heavier.
not because you doubted his love for you - that wasn’t even a question in your mind, that much was certain. if anything, jungkook loved you too much, entirely and wholly, with every single decision made in his life somehow tracing back to you in one way or another. whether it was purchasing things, buying them with the intent of impressing you, making you happy or smile. every opportunity, every signed contract, every bastard fucking meeting that he could feel so deeply in his bones was done with the intention of giving you a life so soft you would never experience hardship again.
that was where the problem lay.
jungkook didn’t know how to love in a way that could nurture your relationship through this, and so, he did the only thing he could. he sacrificed.
slowly, painfully, the realisation that somewhere between the neglect, the late nights and unanswered phone calls, your husband had stopped being your husband at all. he had become a mere ghost in your shared home.
the night you had made your decision was one that felt imprinted in your memory.
it was past midnight, the harsh light of your phone reminding you with each passing moment. the rain was harsh too, with it being the middle of autumn, causing you to curl deeper into the covers on your bed but it did nothing to chase the cold away. dinner had long gone cold downstairs, with your housekeeper giving you a long, sad look before leaving to her own home, patting you on the shoulder in comfort.
your heart hurt so fucking much.
your phone was untouched, with messages sent hours prior despite the lack of response.
‘where are you?’
‘are you coming home tonight?’
‘jungkook, you promised.’
‘i miss you.’
you felt pathetic. humiliation ran up and down your veins at the thought of having to beg for a morsel of attention from your husband, but what else were you supposed to do? what else could you do? loneliness had a tendency to do that to people.
the sound of the front door finally opening had your eyes looking up, no longer staring into space, thinking. overthinking.
jungkook finally stumbled in, hours and hours late, shoulders tense and black coat half wet due to the rain outside. his phone had died hours ago, and his brain was a jumble of numbers and stakeholders, still muttering under his breath over something one of his colleagues had said. he was exhaustion personified.
“baby.” he exhaled deeply upon the sight of you still up.
1:47am.
you stared at him, unable to focus on anything in particular as your reddened eyes somehow glinted in the moonlit essence of the room. his heart ached.
“you missed it again.” you whispered, barely audible.
another dinner sat cold. jungkook had noticed it on his way up, muttering a small fuck under his breath, but seeing you now? something had changed, something was different and the sight scared him to death.
“i know, i..”
“you said you’d be home for six.”
“i know baby, i’m so sorry, we had an emergency shareholders meeting and it was just..fuck.”
“it’s always an emergency.” you muttered bitterly.
the silence that followed felt suffocating to you both.
he carefully placed his things at the door before approaching you slowly, as though you were a wounded fawn struck by an arrow from his own back - it was his fault. he knew that, he could see it.
“i’m trying.” he whispered softly, as he crouched to meet your eyes.
that was the worst thing of all - of course he was trying. you knew he was, you could see it in every single thing he did but that was the part that made it so much more painful. it was unbearable.
tears burned harshly behind your eyes, lip openly trembling as you stared at the only man to have ever felt your affection, the love of your life. the same man that would set himself on fire just to keep you warm, who had done this all for you - even you knew that but, the pain. you weren’t sure when loving him had started to hurt this badly.
“i don’t need..i don’t want any of this, jungkook.” you corrected as your voice cracked, hands gesturing to the too large room. “don’t care about penthouses or cars, or money..”
“it’s not about that.”
“then what is it about?” you cried, months and months of neglect finally collapsing all at once. “because i’m losing you anyway.”
the devastation that appeared on his face would have floored you on any other occasion, but the horrible feeling that had taken over was consuming you from the inside out. you couldn’t rid yourself of your thoughts, the looming decision that had grown and grown and grown, so much so that it felt bigger than you in both mind and body. you couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to.
“i feel so lonely.” you admitted honestly, a broken sob leaving your lips. “you’re all i have..all i’ve ever had and i feel lonely.”
the words physically wounded him as he felt his own tears begin to form, a horrible realisation fluttering through his body - this wasn’t fixable. he could see it now, the utter pain in your eyes, the way your body shook as you cried, and though he was crouched in front of you, arms wrapping around you; it wasn’t enough.
“i’ll fix this. i’ll fix this, fuck. y/n..” he shook, holding you so tightly, his heart beating out of his chest. “give me time. give me a chance. give me something, give me anything.”
you only cried harder at his words, collapsing entirely as the sobs racked through your body violently. you knew he meant it, knew he meant every single word, and you genuinely believed it too but you were tired.
so, so tired.
you knew that the love between you, no matter how deep, could not survive on patched up apologies and promises no longer.
the separation happened three weeks later.
perhaps that was too cruel of you - you should have given him more time, more chances, another opportunity to prove himself to you so he could actually begin repairing something that had already long collapsed before he had ever realised the damage. staying felt too painful, as though you were prodding delicate skin with a million sharpened blades. for once in your entire existence, you chose yourself.
you hated yourself for it.
you could no longer survive off of the memories of who your husband had once been, the once sweet teenage boy who slept on the streets with you just so you’d feel safe from the grasps of your parents. the man who had ran home to tell you about his promotion, who then sobbed in your arms at the mere prospect of getting to give you the life you deserved. oh, how each and every fibre of your being yearned for him, how it knew him by breath alone and yet it wasn’t enough. nothing could possibly hurt more.
packing your things nearly killed him. you remembered it vividly.
jungkook stood silently in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching numbly, as though his soul had left his entire body as you packed up remnants of a life once shared with him. cardboard boxes were filled with your books, your makeup, your silly trinkets you had acquired together - the sight of you crying as you packed your wedding album so delicately was enough to have him bite back his own sob, shaking his head at the reality of the situation.
he hadn’t stopped you. it was the worst part.
jungkook was intimidating to most; hardened by his life experiences and the struggle he had been raised in, his only priority for the past decade being you. you didn’t like to go into his work, knowing he was quite literally a different person there - efficient, yes, but also ruthless. and yet, he stood, watching you as though his eyes couldn’t comprehend the scene in front of him, tears wiped harshly from his face in fear that it would only upset you more.
even in moments like this, he put you first.
his hands sat caged on either side of him, as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. he wanted nothing more than to pick you up, cradle you, cherish you the way he so desperately wanted but in his love for you came your happiness. he was a man devoted to you, and he couldn’t cage you somewhere you no longer felt happy staying - he loved you too much to ever do that.
the divorce proceedings were somehow so much worse.
the media frenzy surrounding jeon jungkook, the elusive ceo who was known for his mysterious persona and dark eyes, was quite literally unbearable. the sudden separation exploded all over the tabloids and the internet, with headlines appearing faster than either of you could keep up with. the hate was too much, to which jungkook stepped in to silence everyone behind the scenes, throwing an insane amount of money at journalists to keep your name out of their filthy mouths. wife or not, you were one half of him and he’d be damned if you were spoken of in anyway that wasn’t praiseworthy.
you couldn’t even look at him during the hearings.
god, you tried. you wanted to, managing to sneak little glances where you caught him already staring at you, despair all over his face, but you couldn’t handle it, tears streaming out of your eyes almost immediately. he knew you loved him. he could see it, clear as day.
he looked sick, as though he hadn’t eaten for weeks, the mere sight of you enough to sustain him until the next meeting, where your feet lightly brushed against one another underneath the table in a subconscious way.
he barely spoke, only choosing to actually speak when he was asked a question, but other than that, he spent his time in the meetings staring at you longingly. he’d whisper a soft “don’t cry” whenever he’d see you tear up, your lip quivering each time you snuck a glance over, despite knowing it was breaking you.
he signed everything over to you immediately. his lawyers had practically choked, eyes wide as he silenced them almost harshly for even suggesting anything otherwise, your own eyebrows pulling together as you tried to reject. you didn’t want his money, you didn’t want what he had worked so hard for.
the penthouse, the cars, the accounts. every. fucking. thing.
“jungkook..” you had whispered through tears at the table, addressing him for the first time in so long. “i don’t want any of this, it’s yours. you’ve worked so hard.”
hearing you was enough to provide the energy he had been lacking, the very blood in his bloodstream pumping harder as he shook his head at you, offended.
“i got those things for you. it never belonged to me..was always yours.” he whispered back, causing you to look down with another choked sob.
it was the final hearing that truly cemented the empty hole inside of you.
your hands shook violently, so much so that you were unable to pick up your pen and sign away your marriage, the one thing you needed to do to finally let him go. everyone in the room frowned as they watched you, face flooded with tears as your digits simply refused, as though your body rejected the notion as being entirely unnatural. they all felt pity for you, for both of you - you both were clearly in love, and they couldn’t understand the gravity of the situation between you.
jungkook had stood from his side of the table, walking over to you until his hand had softly encapsulated your own, your quiet sobs only growing harsher at the feel of the one person you had been craving for so long. he held it, guiding you to your own, helping you write your name on the dotted line despite every part of his body aching.
ex-husband.
the thought should have killed you.
once it was signed, he held onto your hand, too scared to let go as the documents were taken, your lawyers and his slowly leaving the room, leaving you be. you should have let go, should have pushed him away as he no longer had any tie to you - you weren’t married, you weren’t together. alas, the thought felt sacrilegious.
instead, he knelt, knees hitting the hardened floor below you as your red eyes met his properly. entirely.
“i’ll fix this.” he promised you, voice no longer shaking, as you could hear the depth of his promise to you. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby, but you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you better, i’ll be worthy. i promise you, y/n.” he whispered.
another sob climbed up your throat, mean and harsh, as your body collapsed against the chair you were sat in, your emotion taking a complete hold over you.
because even then, after everything, you knew his words to be true. you knew home would be waiting.
—
eight months had passed now, and soon came the first touch of summer. the bleak sky had become brighter, clouds hibernating and birds chirping as the world became warmer, accommodating for the transition into what most would describe as a joyous time. unfortunately for you, your body was still recovering from what could only be described as the most traumatic stage of your life thus far.
everything felt unnatural and wrong - you were trying to keep up despite it moving a million miles around you.
even after all this time, your stomach still dropped whenever you’d see anything that referred to him as your ex husband, as though your mind and heart needed a moment to catch up. how could jungkook ever simply become an ex anything to you?
he had existed in your life for so long that removing him felt akin to ripping a vital organ out of your body, all whilst expected to function entirely normally. how could you? you suppose you were failing, really, with the way you moved through life out of necessity instead of want.
the tabloids loved him now more than ever. it was the paradox of tragedy, you assumed, as you knew how badly the world yearned for a broken hearted lover.
the youngest ceo in the country’s history, a billionaire bachelor - the elusive businessman was on the top of every social hierarchy, whilst people spoke about you in hushed whispers. the only woman to have ever gotten away. who were you? why did you leave? why did he leave you with so much?
he had become so much colder after the divorce, and people picked up on it like rats with forgotten food.
the media had always labelled him as an intimidating man, but now, there was no way of denying it. there was something unsettling about the pictures that were being papped of him, your hungry eyes taking him in top to bottom, nibbling your lip - he looked so different. broad shoulders remained the same, but he seemed bigger, no doubt taking out his pain in the gym. it was the look in his eyes, however, that had your stomach in knots.
he looked dead whilst alive.
jeon jungkook was heartbroken, and the world knew it clear as day.
he had dealt with it the only way he knew how - by burying himself six feet deep into his work, knowing he had nothing to come home to, often times sleeping in his office just so he could ignore the silence of his house.
meanwhile, you had spent the last eight months trying to learn how to exist without him.
the humiliation at first was all you were reminded of, as you realised how deeply you had intertwined into him and vice versa. the silence in your once shared penthouse was so unbearable that you had moved into a tiny two bedroom apartment, using the spare as a storage unit for all of your books. on your nightstand still sat a picture of you both, as you secretly cried over it most nights. you couldn’t even sleep unless you wore one of his hoodies, despite his scent having washed off months ago - it was the comfort of knowing you still had a part of your marriage with you.
you missed him in every small, stupid, awful way imaginable.
the feeling of his hand, heavy and strong, on your thigh as he drove you around. the way he would cage you into any surface he could find just to smother you in kisses, or even the way he would whisper into your ear stupid jokes that had you giggling too loudly for the world to hear.
you missed your husband. you missed jungkook.
everyday you battled with the regret of your choice, especially once you’d see the way his under-eyes had sunken with the lack of sleep and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. you couldn’t live that way again, not with the neglect - not with your past trauma from your parents.
jungkook knew the gravity of his actions, knew you needed to heal and reason with them before he could come back to you but fuck, it hurt so bad to wait.
sometimes, during your weaker moments, you found yourself searching him into your phone in the dead of night, breathing out an audible sigh of relief at the confirmation he was still openly single. it was pathetic, that much you knew, but it was selfish beyond anything else. so cruel to want the man you left to be alone, simply because he still belonged to you.
you had attempted to rebuild your life slowly, carefully piecing together fragments of yourself that existed before all of this had happened. your days were quieter now, so much lonelier but it was enough to keep your mind from spiralling every second of every waking day.
some habits, however, refused to die.
his contact remained as the only favourited number in your phone, as you spent all of your time rereading old messages, despite it ending in tears. if only you knew he too did the same, with his photo album on his phone his most used app as he stared at you nightly, often falling asleep with your picture shining brightly on his screen.
you still loved him. he loved you even more.
that could never change.
-
the first flowers came on a random tuesday.
you had just experienced one of the worst days you’d had in a while, with a final meeting with one of your clients going to shit after you realised hours of work and designs had somehow corrupted, and then deleted. by the time you had returned home, you were sure the world had seen your teary state, your body heavier than usual.
as you searched your bag for your keys, your eyes peered up, noticing them.
your breath caught.
sitting neatly outside your apartment door. a bouquet, large but elegant - white gardenias. the flowers you had held at not only your wedding, but the ones jungkook would buy you for your anniversary each year.
your flowers.
your chest ached so violently you found yourself gasping for air as your legs gave out below you. you slid down the wall, fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you looked for a note, only to realise there wasn’t one. you didn’t need to see who they were from, only one person knew you well enough and your heart felt like it had been split into two as you took them in.
it wasn’t your anniversary, wasn’t any special kind of occasion, and yet here they were. bright, promising, sweet.
your vision blurred with heavy tears as the painful feeling in your body grew, throat tightening with emotion before reaching out and taking a hold of them, breathing the flowers in openly.
the scent alone was enough to destroy you.
he was everywhere, all of the time - even now. especially now.
the flowers had become a norm, a pattern that was only recognisable to you, and completely deniable to any other person looking in. you were smarter than you looked and you knew what was happening, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to call it out.
your favourite restaurant somehow managing to accommodate you always despite the line or packed out reservations list, or the paparazzi that often bullied you for your attention outside of your home mysteriously disappearing. even your car, that you had dented slightly, appeared in perfect condition as you walked down to go to work one morning, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
your chest bloomed with realisation.
jungkook.
he never appeared himself, no. never. it was unsettling really, the reminder that he was powerful and could have things done with a flick of his wrist - he was sure to never make you privy to it, so you’d always feel like he was the same boy you had met all those years ago. now? he had every intention of showing you the empire he had built for you and you alone. he lingered around you and your life like a floating ghost, invisible but permanent. you truly couldn’t get rid of him even if you tried.
three weeks later is when you felt yourself reaching breaking point.
for the first time in months, you were finally leaving the house to actually do something for fun. your best friend, yejin, who’s husband yoongi was ironically jungkook’s best friend, had forced you to come out for a drink. nothing intense, merely a nice bar where the drinks were smooth and the company was good, with slow jazz playing in the back.
exhaustion was heavy in your bones but you listened, doing your best to make yourself look nice despite how dead you felt inside. a little skirt that felt too short and a top that perhaps plunged too low - yejin had deemed you utterly perfect.
sat at the bar, you sipped your drink, wincing lightly as she yapped away about something her coworker had said. you appreciated how she refused to bring jungkook up, knowing that she couldn’t breach the topic unless you were the one to bring it up yourself. you hated how badly you wanted to, how desperate you were to find out how he was doing.
she filled the air constantly, like she was terrified of what would happen if your mind caught up to the reality of the situation, instead filling it with nonsense to occupy your demanding thoughts.
you let her.
you even found yourself laughing, the feeling and sound so startling that it reduced you to silence for a full minute afterwards as you welcomed the feeling of actual joy for the first time in so long.
you almost didn’t notice the shift in your phone, the slight light radiating from beneath as you had turned it onto its screen earlier in the evening. she, however, paused mid sentence, eyes dropping down to let you know someone was ringing.
nothing could have prepared you for the sight of his name on the screen.
the name, ‘kookie’ with a large, red heart adorned your phone as humiliation rummaged through you at the realisation you had never even bothered to change his name, the concept too painful to come to terms with. however, yejin all but gasped as she turned to you, eyes widened with an almost excitement.
“answer it.” she encouraged, hand on your back. “i’ll watch your drink.”
you weren’t sure what to say, as you nodded, staring down at the screen before shakily sliding off of your seat and heading towards the back entrance, where a smokers area sat empty. your hands shook as you cupped the phone to your chest, taking a seat before looking down at it once more.
he was calling you.
jungkook was fucking calling you.
before you could overthink, you swiped, answering it.
the phone felt hot against your ear, a reminder of what was currently happening as your heart began beating harder than it had in months, your hands shaking. for a second, neither of you spoke.
you could hear faint movement on his end, a shuffling of some sorts before he completely stilled, as though he had pushed everything he was doing to a side at the realisation you had actually answered.
“hi.”
god. your eyes squeezed shut tight almost immediately.
there he was - your jungkook. not the ceo extraordinaire that was plastered on every publication you could find, with dead eyes and a sharp expression. no, this was him. jungkook. your jungkook.
the sound alone nearly brought you to tears. you felt so pathetic.
“hi.” you whispered back, voice cracking.
silence settled again, but not awkwardly. you didn’t think an awkward silence was capable of existing between you, not when your bodies were so intertwined and so aware of one another. the distance between you was unnatural, neither of your minds able to comprehend an eight month hiatus enough to understand that this phone call alone shouldn’t have been happening.
he exhaled slowly, and your shoulders gently relaxed, your eyes closing momentarily as you imagined him. no doubt still at work, in a suit unbuttoned at the shirt, his tie long forgotten. his tattooed hand running through his hair, ruffling it the way you always would.
“you answered.” he broke you out of your thoughts.
your chest tightened painfully at the sheer disbelief in his tone.
“you called.”
a faint huff of amusement left him then, causing you to blink back any emotion that was building in your eyes. it eased you.
“yeah.” he breathed out.
another pause.
you felt so suddenly aware of yourself - your hand reached out to smooth down your hair, adjust your top and skirt, despite knowing he couldn’t see you. it was subconscious, as though the thought of him alone was enough to undo you, but his voice? hearing it after so long, directed at you, for you. yours. it was enough to have you soothed for months.
before you could spiral in your thoughts, he spoke again.
“where are you?”
“out with yejin.”
“mm.” you shivered at his hum. you had no idea he was so undone at the sound of you too. “a bar?”
“yeah.”
“you drinking?”
you rolled your eyes, tongue poking your cheek at his curiosity. some things truly had never changed.
“why?” you asked, and you could almost hear his grin on the other end. “can’t i ask?”
his tone, smooth. familiar. fuck, it did things to you, and you could feel your thighs pressing together just listening to him. secretly, your favourite part of jungkook was how possessive he had always been, and even in moments like this where he hid it under a layer of calmness, you could recognise it instantly.
it reminded you of when he’d ask you whether you had eaten, just before pulling you into his lap, lips attacking the side of your neck hungrily or when he’d tell you to take your medicine, with a slow ‘baby’ and kisses planted to your forehead and cheeks.
“one drink.” you revealed, with a nibble to your lip.
you had no idea that he too was a fucking mess.
jungkook was indeed in his office, with his legs spread, suit jacket and tie somewhere, his shirt unbuttoned a little as he too drank. a cup of whiskey in his hand, his hair a mess as he scoured over your instagram for the millionth time just that day. neither of you were ones to post much, especially considering your accounts were private with only a few people, but he stalked you daily in hopes of a glimpse of you. could you blame him? he was utterly, devotedly in love with you.
a measly divorce couldn’t stop that.
seeing yejin’s story, with your low cut top, and your big eyes showing a sign of life for the first time in months made his heart bloom. it had his cock straining, again, just looking at you, eyes hungrily looking over every inch of you and your soft smile. god, how he had missed it.
he had given you your time. respected your wishes, allowed you eight months of this but enough was enough. the flowers were just the beginning, marking his space back in your life through a promise he had every intention of upholding. he had told you directly he was going to fix this, and you, his sweet, sweet girl had believed him.
he would never let you down again.
“you having fun?”
“why do you wanna know every single detail?” you asked, tone a little harsher than intended but you couldn’t help yourself. this was an ambush on your senses.
he huffed once more, the amusement enough to disarm you.
“because i miss you.”
the words left him so easily that the breath in your lungs completely dissipated, leaving you a statued mess. no hesitation, no shame - pure, devastating honesty.
“you can’t say that, jungkook.” you weakly combatted, the intake of breath on his side of the phone at the sound of his name leaving your mouth enough of an answer for you.
“why not? i can’t miss my wife?” he scoffed lightly at you.
you blubbered for a moment. “i-i am not..i’m not your wife!”
“okay.” he hummed once more.
there was a quiet clink on his end, no doubt picking his drink up and taking a big gulp after abandoning it the second you answered. neither of you spoke for a few more moments, silence now becoming a running theme between you on the call, and yet it was still void of the awkwardness you’d find anywhere else. it was awful how familiar it felt. how comfortable and safe.
your fingers played with the hem of your skirt nervously, unsure if you had been too brash - he was hurting too after all.
“is that top new?”
your breath caught.
“..what?”
jungkook stayed quiet for an extra beat. “your top. haven’t seen that one before.”
heat flooded your cheeks, chest and neck before you could even respond, your lips bitten down as you inhaled shakily.
“how do you know that?” you were ignoring the way your pulse was hammering against your body, trying to feign an air of nonchalance.
at that, he couldn’t help the small grin. “saw you on yejin’s story.” he murmured, quieter now. “look so good. love when you wear pink, baby.”
it wasn’t even the words he had chosen, but more so the way he was saying them. so calm, so certain, so casual as if he wasn’t calling his ex wife baby over a bit of cleavage that was never really meant for his eyes - your blush spreading all over you now.
“jungkook..” you breathed out, shakily.
“what?” he asked innocently, and you could really hear the smile in his voice now. “am i wrong?”
you looked down at your top, nibbling away at your lip to hide the small smile that was beginning to form on your own face, something that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. your fingers brushed against your stomach, feeling the fabric before tucking a strand behind your hair.
“it’s new.” you admitted softly, heels shuffling slightly on the ground.
the sound he made in response was enough to ruin you. not a laugh, not quite a sigh - something pleased.
he hummed. “so pretty.”
your eyes squeezed shut, and jungkook could feel it. could see it as though you were right in front of him. you were never one to handle a compliment, always going pink and shyly looking away and god, he loved it so much. loved complimenting you in hopes that you would react just like that, just to see you get all flustered.
the feeling in your stomach..it felt so strange. the same one that had haunted you for the past eight months, an unbearable warmth that filled you from your toes to your head, something you craved so desperately from him and him alone. to be noticed, looked at, admired by jungkook was one thing but to be loved by him? it was joy in itself.
you could feel it.
no one had ever loved you quite like he had done, as though every single thing you were capable of was worthy of applause. it terrified you.
“you can’t do this.” your voice came out so much smaller than either of you had expected, changing the entire feel of the call instantly.
as a result, his own tone softened, as though he was dealing with something porcelain.
“do what, baby?”
your heart physically ached.
“talk to me..like nothing happened.”
you felt sick to your stomach, hands gripping your phone and stomach as your eyes shut tight. you wished you hadn’t of said anything, not with the way the silence kissed the air in a way that felt anything but familiar - it hurt. painful in every single way.
for the first time since answering the phone, you could see jungkook properly. could hear him breathing sharply as though your words were both a reminder and an understanding that no matter what, things could never go back to what they once were.
the slight twitch in his cheek, the way his fingers would naturally tighten whenever he was overwhelmed with emotion like he didn’t know where to put it, where to place it in his overworking mind. he had always loved so deeply, your jungkook; just didn’t know where to put it, or how to show it.
when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. stripped bare for you, so you could feel him.
“i know what i did.” he admitted softly. “i know i fucked up, and that i failed you as a husband.”
your throat tightened.
outside, rainwater still lingered from earlier, a sickly humidity wrapped into every air particle around you. the scent of lingering cigarette smoke was heavy enough to ground you in that moment as you listened to jungkook speak words neither of you could truly handle hearing, despite how necessary they were. it just hurt so, so badly.
inside the bar, you could hear muffled laughter, people egging one another on for drinks as jazz boomed, your heart easing as you could hear yejin’s voice amongst the crowd, no doubt the life of the party there too.
“then why are you acting like this?” you pathetically asked, lip jutting out in a teary pout. he could almost hear it on you. “you’re talking to me like we’re still together.”
“you’re still mine, y/n.”
your breath hitched violently.
“jungkook-“
“no,” he remained calm, a stark difference between you and him. “you asked me a question, baby, so let me answer it properly.”
the nickname rolled off of his lips so naturally, instinctively, and you hated how easily your body curled closer, almost desperate to hear it whilst he stood in front of you. you had always been putty in his hands, so easily undone with a few pretty words but you’d held back for the past few months for the sake of your boundaries. hearing him so open, so honest - it was fucking you up all over again.
“i know we’re divorced,” he continued before you could interrupt him again. “i know..you’re not my wife anymore, and i know this is my fault. you left because of me and i’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”
his voice cracked by the end of his statement.
“but i won’t sit here and pretend like the last eight months have suddenly erased the past fifteen years of loving you.”
the words shattered you. your delicate, pathetic heart broke once more at his words at the confirmation of what you needed to hear so, so badly.
years of abandonment issues stemming from your parents and friends who had only ever toyed with you meant you had put your all into jungkook, who had only ever put every inch of himself back in - you were a partnership, a welcome duo that made sense to the both of you. watching him pull back, forget you, neglect and abandon your relationship no matter the reason was enough to trigger you in ways that no one could reason with.
it was an intimate form of violence that though was never intended, hurt more than anything he could have ever done to you.
he knew that. he was openly telling you he recognised his faults, his wrong doings - you knew that too. god, you knew him better than anyone alive, and you knew that by leaving him it was the only way for him to understand and see.
“you’re making this so much harder, jungkook.” you whispered out through a flood of tears, your mascara and eyeliner smudging immediately under the slaughter of liquid.
“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry baby but i need you to hear me, okay? just..i need you to know i’m going to fix this. properly.” he breathed out, desperate now. “i’ve been doing things right this time..gave you space, let you breathe, been working on myself and going to therapy. don’t sleep at the office anymore, did at the start cause i didn’t like coming home but i’m better now.”
therapy?
you knew he held so much trauma with his own parents, his own upbringing, too scared to ever even speak about it if it wasn’t with you but to hear he had actually taken the steps to go forwards with something that put him directly out of his comfort zone was insanity to you. especially when his one and only concern had only ever been your own comfort, even at his expense.
his honesty made you burst out into quiet sobs - a noise he swore was harsh enough to kill him. he breathed out, cooing at you lightly as he shook his head despite you unable to see him, so pained.
jungkook recognised your pain immediately.
“yeah,” he muttered. “turns out working yourself to death because you’re afraid of losing everything after you’ve had a shitty upbringing actually isn’t normal behaviour. who knew?”
despite your heartbroken state, you let out a sincere watery laugh.
the sound hit him like a drug.
he went completely silent after hearing it, replaying it in the forefront of his mind. a greedy, gluttonous side of him climbing out of his very throat as he held it close to his soul, cherishing it - he was a starved man finally being fed.
“there she is.” he breathed. “fuck..missed hearing your laugh.”
you hated how easily you were able to slip back into him.
“jungkook..”
“i mean it,” his tone deepened slightly - more certain, more intentional. “i’m not calling you tonight to confuse you, y/n. i’m not calling because i’m lonely..”
your fingers tightened around the phone once more. “then, why?”
“because i’m getting you back.”
there was no hesitation in his voice, no wariness nor anything other than sheer determination. he sounded firm and a part of that thrilled you, whilst the other half sat scared of what this meant - you couldn’t survive this again, losing him. what if you had changed? what if you weren’t who he thought you were anymore?
“hey, stop it.” he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “it’s just me, y/n. it’s just me and you, okay?”
“but what if we can’t do it?” you asked through a teary sob, scuffing your heels on the hard ground. “what if i’m different and what if it’s too hard? i can’t..i won’t survive it..”
silence once more.
“then, we do it slowly.” he whispered, assured, soothing you. no hesitation whatsoever. “i’m not asking you to trust me overnight, baby. i know i fucked that up already.”
your lip trembled, tears streaming so fast you could hardly keep up.
“but i’m here now.”
the words settled so deeply inside of you that it almost hurt. that was all you had wanted all along, was it not? a present husband, the same man that loved you without the frills of money and presents - you wanted jungkook. your jungkook.
you swallowed thickly, knowing it had taken so much of him to even say this to you, so confident as he knew you needed a rock at this moment despite also being emotionally devastated.
two whole minutes of silence stretched between you as you caught your breath, your tears still streaming but your sobs subsiding, allowing for sweet hiccups that he thought were the cutest thing he had ever heard. his mind swam, aching, knowing how needy you were after a cry. he wanted to bundle you up and hold you, kiss you until there were no more thoughts left in that pretty little head of yours, right until you were finally asleep and safe in his arms.
“are you still at work?” you asked softly, breaking the silence and pulling him out of his thoughts.
a small pause.
then, almost amused - “technically..”
“jungkook! it’s late..”
he laughed quietly under his breath, the sound warm enough to blanket you in it.
“finished hours ago, i’ve just been sat here.”
“doing what?”
another pause. slightly charged.
“looking at you.” he murmured.
heat rushed to your face immediately, wiping your under eyes. “what?”
“been stalking your instagram. yejin posted you like half an hour ago too, so..” his voice dropped lower, smoother. more intimate. “haven’t really thought about doing anything since.”
your thighs pushed together involuntarily at the confession, cheeks hinted even darker.
god.
“jungkook.” you chastised with a little sniffle.
“pink was a bad choice, baby.” he grunted slightly. “you know that colour drives me fucking insane on you.”
your eyes squeezed shut. there he was.
not the cold, mysterious ceo that had the world intrigued, nor the tall, hefty man that had most people cowering away as he walked past. no, this was your husband - flirty, affectionate and completely and utterly obsessed with you.
“you’re so ridiculous.” you shook your head through a hiccup, biting back the pathetic small smile that was about to form.
“yeah?” he hummed through a small laugh. “still answered the phone.”
the smile in his voice only had yours growing larger, a small laugh muffled by the back of your hand.
you could hear him moving around now, keys jingling lightly before the sound of a car door opening had your ears peaking up.
“wait,” your eyebrows raised. “are you leaving?”
“mhm.”
“where are you going?”
jungkook grinned. it was your turn to be curious.
“home.”
your smile dropped slightly. home.. that used to be a word that was synonymous with you. your chest ached all over again.
“couldn’t go back there without hearing your voice first.” he admitted quietly.
silence swallowed you whole. the vulnerability in his voice felt far more dangerous than any of the tears you had shed tonight, your fingers continuing to shake around the phone at the mere sound of it. before you could think of a response, he spoke again.
“there’s a gala next friday.”
your stomach tightened as you leaned your head against the wall, already understanding the direction of the conversation.
“jungkook..”
“come with me.”
no hesitation. no uncertainty.
firm, assured, confident. like there had never even been another concept, or thought in his brain - you were the first and only option.
“i don’t think that’s a good idea..”
“probably not.”
the honesty startled a laugh out of you - a real one. on the other side of the phone, jungkook sat in his car, eyes closed, breathing deeply at the sweet sound like he was memorising it. treasuring it so he could replay it over and over and over later when he laid in your once shared bed alone.
“fuck,” he breathed. “you have no idea how much i’ve missed that.”
your eyes burned once more.
“baby,” his tone gentled again, using the pet name you loved so much. “just one night. me and you.”
you wanted to scream, wanted to pull at your hair and jump all at the same time. of course you wanted to say yes, what more could you need? your ex husband so openly telling you he wanted to pursue you with every inch of his body, until he was nothing but yours to mould and shape.
“i’ll think about it.” you replied instead, nibbling away at your lip.
the grin in his voice was immediate.
“that’s my girl.”
—
you couldn’t breathe.
both physically and emotionally, you found difficulty in inhaling air as you looked at yourself in the mirror, yejin somewhere in the room finding accessories for you to wear all whilst you blinked rapidly.
the dress, although beautiful, felt too tight.
your hands shook on either side of you as she approached you, holding up a delicate diamond necklace you recognised as an anniversary gift jungkook had gotten you but never quite found the chance to wear. your eyes were unfocused as she clasped it onto your neck, watching the way it fell so softly against soft skin, as though it had been curated for you and you alone.
“you need to breathe, y/n.” she suddenly murmured behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder as you both stared at you in the mirror.
pale pink satin - not bright in anyway, but a sweet kiss of your favourite colour adorned your body in floor length, tight fitting dress. you were the embodiment of elegance as the fabric draped over your curves, all whilst cinching perfectly at your waist, allowing for a pretty silhouette. not only did you look the part for a charity gala, you had exceeded any expectation anyone would ever have for you thanks to your best friend’s styling.
“dress is tight.” you simply whispered back, hardly recognising yourself.
your makeup matched your dress. glowy and pink with soft blush dusted onto your cheeks, glossy lips puckered and sweet. your hair fell in waves and for the first time in a very long time, you felt utterly beautiful.
the problem, however, was in the circumstance itself.
you were about to see jungkook for the first time since you had officially walked away from your marriage and the thought had kept you up all week. you weren’t sure what you were thinking actually saying yes to his invitation, calling him to tell you would come only for him to audibly huff out of joy. he was like a child in a candy shop but you couldn’t help but wonder if he harboured the same anxiety.
it was heavy in your stomach as you stared at yourself. pink was your favourite colour, and he loved it on you. did you look pretty enough? all eyes would be on you both tonight, given the nature of your relationship and the almost celebrity like status that had been awarded to the two of you.
all in all, it was his face that had you nibbling your bottom lip in thought. there wasn’t a night where you left his name unsearched in your internet browser, desperate to see what he looked like in that current moment but seeing him in purpose was a whole different playing field.
you loved him in suits - a fitting joy that was awarded to you constantly given his occupation. the way his shoulders would fill out the material so nicely, the way his shirt would stretch over his chest and the way darker colours only brought out the darkness in his eyes - it was your personal kryptonite. you weren’t sure how you were supposed to think, behave even, once you caught got sight of him.
“hey, y/n, look at me.” yejin pulled you out of your thoughts, soft hands pulling at your jaw. “it’s just jungkook. you know him better than anyone, okay? you’re all good.”
you nodded, though you continued to blink at her rapidly. “s’just been so long and..i don’t know..i’m scared. is that weird?”
she offered a sad smile. “it’s been eight months of healing, babe. that love doesn’t just go away and from what you told me, this is a step in the right direction. just gotta let him in.”
before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell blared through the apartment, making you look up to where the door sat on the other side. if you thought your heart had been beating fast before, you were sure you were on the edge of passing out now as yejin mumbled a quick ‘that’ll be him’ beside you.
oh god. oh god. oh god.
the dress felt too tight around your ribs.
your hands smoothed down the satin again despite having done it what felt like a million times already, fingers tips trembling over expensive fabric as your breathing came out shallow. you hated this - hated the fear of it all when it was jungkook on the other side of the door. your jungkook.
eight months. eight whole months and your body still knew him better than your mind was ready to let on.
“y/n.” yejin practically cooed at you, assuring you with a hand on your back. “breathe.”
you nodded quickly, though it went in one ear and out the other.
the intercom buzzed again, impatient time.
ironically, it was this that had your shoulders slumping softly, your shortness of breath slowly soothing as you realised the familiarity of the situation. of course jungkook would buzz twice - it was a telltale sign of his own anxiety, something you could recognise from a mile away. knocking twice, calling your name twice, checking the front door before bed twice.
it was just jungkook.
“okay.” you whispered to yourself.
you turned, more determined now you knew he was in the same state as you, as your heels clicked on the floor of your much smaller apartment, the noise loud enough for him to hear from the outside. each step felt heavier the closer you got, but there sat an anticipation in you that had you almost desperate to see him.
your hand finally wrapped around the handle before you opened the door.
and there he was.
god.
for a moment, your brain completely malfunctioned.
jungkook stood in your hallway beneath the almost dingy apartment lighting, one hand wrapped around a large bouquet of flowers you recognised to be the ones he had been gifting you with continuously for the past few weeks, and every anniversary. white gardenias.
your eyes fell onto them immediately with a strangled gasp, all whilst taking him in, your heart beating out of your chest as you felt almost faint at the sight of him.
a black suit.
the material stretched perfectly across his too broad shoulders and narrow waist, expensive to the eye as you could tell it had been tailored to fit him exactly. the contrast between the white shirt underneath was utterly delicious, and memories of pulling open buttons under heated exchanges flooded your eyes.
his hair was styled almost messily which you immediately recognised as his hands having ran through them, no doubt due to his anxiety - you wanted to pull at his locks, wanted to feel them against your fingers.
it was his face, however, that hurt to look at.
he looked healthier than most of the pictures you had seen over the span of the past few months, with warm in his cheeks, a slight dazed look in his eyes. still tired, with purple underneath his eyes indicating his lack of sleep, still carrying traces of heartbreak you knew you had placed there.
god.
jungkook looked every bit of the man you were in love with.
and here he stood, staring at you like he had just seen heaven open up right in front of him.
neither of you could look away from one another, as his eyes dragged over you slowly, inch by inch. your hair, your neckline that dipped lower than he was used to seeing, your manicure, your beautiful face. jungkook couldn’t fathom that you had once belonged to him, the pain of the past eight months surfacing as it gripped him by the throat like a vice - he had lost you?
you watched his throat bob.
his eyes met yours, the first time in what felt like a lifetime, and neither of you really knew what to do. how was it that the man you had known most of your life, the one constant, felt like a stranger in that moment? it was like you were discovering him again, an opportunity to relearn him presented to you and you took it with both hands.
he let out a shaking breath, one that had your cheeks flushing as he extended his arm, presenting the large bouquet for you.
“you look beautiful.” he whispered, voice struggling almost as you continued to watch his adam’s apple almost entranced.
with a shy thank you, you held them close to your chest, breathing in the familiar scent that brought you so much comfort.
your chest had eased now you were finally looking at him, now that he was actually in your space - the worst was over. you almost felt ridiculous for being worried about seeing him when it was just jungkook. eight months couldn’t erase that familiarity.
the hallway suddenly felt too small. too warm, too intimate; you felt like you were being caved in by his mere presence and for a moment you wondered if you needed breath at all.
you simply stood there, clutching the flowers delicately to your chest as though they meant something so much more than what anyone else could assume all whilst jungkook looked at you like you were the first beautiful thing he had seen in months.
his eyes couldn’t leave your face.
it should have made you uncomfortable, the intensity of his stare, but your body reacted the way it had always done when you were near him. you were inching closer without even realising it, him doing the same until you were looking up, head angled and his downwards, head bent to admire you properly.
“hi.” you whispered again.
the size difference between you had never been more apparent until then, what with all of his strenuous visits to the gym these past few months. he had always towered over you, but it was different now - his already wide chest and broad shoulders engulfed you, his biceps on either side of him enough to have you wanting him in a way that certainly was not becoming of an ex wife.
it’s like he could read your thoughts, with the way he inched closer to you, until your bodies were openly brushing against each other faintly. material on material, fabric kissing fabric. you wished you could feel him on your skin.
the sound of your voice had lulled him gently as he dipped his head down lower so you could properly see him, despite your head back to look at him.
“hi, baby.”
your stomach flipped violently.
there it was again. baby. fuck.
as though the divorce papers were fickle, representing a momentary lapse of judgement instead of a ruling decision. like he still woke up beside you every morning and ruined your cheeks with kisses before falling in between your thighs.
the dazed look on your face didn’t go unnoticed.
before you could even respond, yejin appeared behind you with the biggest smile she could possibly muster.
“oh my god,” she squeaked dramatically. “you both look insane!”
jungkook blinked, momentarily pulled from the emotional spiral you were both taking part in as he straightened slightly, despite still being awfully close to you. your cheeks heated at the sound of her voice, jumping a little in shock, causing you to brush against him faintly.
“hi, yejin.”
“don’t hi yejin me.” she narrowed her eyes dangerously. “if she cries tonight, i’ll kill you.”
“yejin!” you flushed red.
jungkook, however, allowed for a soft smile, nodding once. “fair.”
the sheer sincerity of it made the room go quiet, your eyes meeting his once more. you knew though it was a passing comment, he truly meant it - he’d let her kill him if it meant you’d hurt less.
your chest tightened all over again.
yejin seemed to realise it too, her teasing expression softening at the both of you. idiots in love, both too cautious to know what the correct next step was - thank god she loved to meddle.
“okay! you’re both gonna be late so hurry up.” she hummed, turning you and looking over you for any last minute touch ups. “i’ll take these. i’ll show myself out.”
with a cheeky wink, she all but pushed you backwards towards jungkook where your back gently brushed against his front. she had taken the flowers, shoved your clutch in your hand and shut the door in your face, all after giving you a big grin.
he didn’t move from behind you, despite you turning to properly face him. the two of you stared at one another openly, eyebrows pulling together - you could see it happening in real time, the way his body curled at the mere feel of you. to be so close to you, touching you; it was out of a far away dream.
you felt it too - god, you could feel it in your veins. the horrifying wave of unashamed want that filtered through you so naturally, your body knew him. your body recognised your husband.
your man.
his restraint was palpable. you could see it in the way his fingers flexed on either side of him, almost twitching as muscle memory surfaced from deep inside of him. for years touching you had been second nature, with a hand on your waist, fingers lifting your chin, arms around your figure to hold you up for a kiss.
now he looked almost tortured as he realised he no longer knew what he was allowed to do.
the realisation alone softened you.
“we should go.” you whispered up at him gently, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
jungkook stared at you, offering a small nod almost obediently despite the stark hunger in his eyes.
“yeah.” he cleared his throat. “yeah, okay.”
he stepped back and first; the distance was felt immediately.
you suddenly missed the warmth that radiated off of him, fingers faintly tugging on his suit jacket so gently you weren’t even aware you were doing it. what the fuck was wrong with you? one touch and you were already spiralling into him again like the last eight months had never happened.
jungkook noticed. of course he did.
his chest visibly expanded from beneath the expensive material, eyes darkening so suddenly you felt heat up and down your spine. the way he looked at you had emotion swirling in your stomach, so hungry. so devoted.
you slowly released him, blinking rapidly as though you’d only just realised what you’d done.
“sorry.” you whispered instinctively.
jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed together in offence.
“don’t apologise for touching me.” his voice came out firmer than expected, low. far too intimate given the apartment hallway you were in.
the silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on, neither of you making an effort to move despite knowing you were bordering on being late. the tension was so unbearable now that you were both alone, freely staring at one another after so much time apart - no yejin to soften the edges. just fifteen years worth of tension, want and need all accumulated between you.
his eyes flickered downwards as he watched you sway slightly.
“your heels are insane.” he muttered softly.
you blinked. “hm?”
“you’re already wobbling.”
offended, your mouth gaped. “i am not wobbling!”
jungkook let out a small huff of amusement, loving how easy it was to rile you up. the sound completely disarmed you, seeing a glimpse of the same jungkook you had been with all of your life.
“you almost fell walking out of the door.” he teased, with a tilt to his head downwards at you.
“i did not!” you shook your head with a small swat to his chest. he only let out another laugh. “you literally grabbed onto me.”
“that..doesn’t count, okay?”
“mm.” amusement stretched over his face, as he led you to the staircase, cautious to be slow as he watched you continue to slightly wobble due to the uneven surface of the hallway. “sure.”
before you could even think of a rebuttal, you watched jungkook look down the multiple staircases with a slight frown before turning to you. he suddenly bent at the knees, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for no longer than two seconds before one arm slid below your knees and the other around your back.
your gasp echoed.
“jungkook!”
he lifted you bridal style effortlessly, as though you weighed truly nothing to him.
your hands immediately flung to the back of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders in shock as your body felt more of him than it had done in what felt like eons. jungkook’s hands were so much bigger than yours, and you could feel him everywhere all at once, enough to have you dizzy with a sense of want.
“what are you doing?!” you whispered harshly, eyes blown wide as he sorted you on one single arm, checking his phone for the time with the other. it was beyond easy.
jungkook merely looked down at you calmly, entirely unbothered despite the way you could feel his pulse hammering below your fingertips.
“preventative measures. can’t have you slipping down the stairs.”
you stared at him in disbelief. “you can’t just pick me up!”
he scoffed a little, as though your words were going in one ear and out the other. your comfort came first, that much was ingrained in him and even you couldn’t stop him when it came to that.
he walked down the stairs as though it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand spread wide against your back, claiming whilst the other was hooked under your thighs, making sure you were as comfortable as possible against him. your dress was draped so beautifully over his arm that anyone who would have caught you in that moment would have remarked, ironically, how bridal you looked.
you couldn’t believe how safe he felt.
jungkook noticed the second you relaxed into him. properly.
“missed carrying you.” he admitted quietly as he descended another step.
your entire body burned. “jungkook.” you breathed weakly, though there was no real warning behind your tone.
“what?” he hummed innocently. “s’true.”
you remembered almost fondly - it was the one thing you probably missed more than anything else. he would carry you everywhere - from the bed to your bath, to the couch after you’d woken up, through grocery stores just to hear you squeak in embarrassment. one time he had held you for an hour straight, walking you home after a date just because your feet hurt.
and now, here you were again, tucked into his chest as though it was home. you supposed it was.
your heart ached so violently at the memory that looking up at him through your lashes had your brain whizzing too fast for you to keep up with.
“you’ve gotten so much bigger.” you whispered almost shyly before you could stop yourself, already tucked into him too comfortably.
big mistake.
his heart truly nearly fucking stopped. his head snapped down at you almost instantly, eyes darkening so visibly it had you avoiding any contact, instead focusing your gaze on his clothed pecs.
“yeah?” he asked slowly.
your cheeks were flushed dark, realising how that may have sounded.
“just..got broader.” you clarified through another whisper, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment.
“been working out a lot more.” he murmured down at you, ducking his head a little so that he could meet your eyes, a small smile forming.
you nibbled your lip with a little nod, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair.
jungkook knew you loved the size difference between you, but it truly didn’t compare to how fucked it made his mind go. it was the first thing he had noticed when you opened the door again - how despite your heels, you were still so much shorter. it drove him insane, especially now that he was bigger. feeling you curled into his chest like this, all safe and protected, it made him feel wanted. to have you notice it, address it even so shyly; fuck. it ruined him.
by the time he had reached the bottom floor, your cheeks were still heated, dreading the fact he would have to let you go when all you wanted was to curl into him even deeper. to think ten minutes ago you had so much anxiety when now, he was actively conversing with you all whilst carrying you, it felt euphoric.
the driver stood outside of the car, the same man who drove you both to events when you were still together. your eyes widened a little as you watched him open the back door for you both, all whilst you were still leisurely held in his arms.
your embarrassment returned instantly.
“put me down!” you hissed quietly.
jungkook looked at you, unaffected. “why?”
“because your driver is literally staring at us, jungkook!”
the poor man looked away with a growing smile. he had missed seeing his boss so carefree, knowing that he was only like this when the situation pertained to you.
he smirked faintly. “he’s driven us around for years, baby. pretty sure he’s seen us do a lot worse.”
your mouth fell open, swatting his chest. “jungkook!”
that finally earned you a proper smile, brief but enough to knock the very air out of your lungs, your too large eyes drinking it in almost desperately. he was so handsome it hurt, and it wasn’t until now you realised how much you had missed his smile.
carefully, he gently lowered you to the ground, making sure you were comfortable on your feet.
his hands lingered. neither of you moved.
your faces were suddenly so close once more as your hands had slid down from his neck, but remained in contact, fingers digging into his chest faintly to feel him. the city noise faded around you and into the background as he looked down at you with an emotion that could only be classed as longing.
“you good?” he asked softly.
you nodded too quickly. “mhm.”
liar.
his eyes dropped to your lips once more, eyeing the gloss almost hungrily - would it taste like the strawberry you always applied? sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he’d remember the flavour.
then, like he had to physically pull himself back, he stepped closer to the car and gestured to it slowly.
“after you.”
you slid into the backseat first, smoothening your dress as it rode up your body, all whilst your pulse hammered harshly.
the interior of the car was sleek, donned in a luxurious black leather whilst it remained dimly lit in the back, with enough enough space to stretch out your legs. the scent of jungkook’s cologne was addicting, and you immediately recognised it to be the one you had bought him on your last anniversary together, your heart fluttering at the thought.
once he climbed in beside you, you realised how intimate the space actually was.
jungkook sat close enough for his thigh to brush against yours, broad shoulders taking up far too much room whilst the driver shut the door quietly behind him.
neither of you acknowledged the contact. it somehow made it worse.
it wasn’t until the divider between the front and the back began slowly sliding upwards, offering a layer of privacy that your breath caught audibly.
jungkook noticed - of course he fucking noticed. he couldn’t stop staring at you, especially now that he had you trapped here, pushed against him like you belonged with a drive ahead of you. god, the things he wanted to do to you in this dress were sinful at best, but he had to practise restraint, no matter how much it took out of him.
he leaned back, one arm sliding over to the top of your seat, where although he wasn’t touching you, you slyly leaned in just to have more of his warmth. it felt so familiar, so nauseatingly natural that anything other would have felt wrong.
he watched as your thighs pressed together.
fuck.
“you nervous?” he asked in his low voice, jaw ticking.
your eyes slowly shifted, finally meeting his gaze. through a shaky laugh, one without humour, you nodded. “obviously.”
he softened at that, sharpness melting away to reveal the tenderness below.
“it’s just me, y/n.”
you felt so hyperaware of everything. the rain that tapped softly against the tinted windows, and the gentle purr of the car engine beneath you. the feel of jungkook’s thigh soothed you, whilst his heavy gaze unnerved you - a cocktail mix that felt so entirely him.
you could feel his eyes on you before you even looked up. once you did, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare - not polite. certainly not subtle. his gaze moved over you, up and down, like he couldn’t help himself, like he he’d been trying to hold back the second you opened up the door to your apartment.
“fuck.” he muttered under his breath.
your cheeks flushed pink, whispering his name.
you watched his eyes flush down your body, eyes stuck on your cleavage and the way the material clung to your hips. “look at you.”
you instinctively looked down, shy at the attention but you couldn’t help but crave it. you knew exactly how obsessive jungkook was when it came to you, knew how deeply infatuated he was with every inch of you but seeing it so closely after so long almost felt soothing. it was a reminder that though everything had changed, somethings stayed the same.
his hand moved before you could think too hard about it, cupping under your chin and tilting your face upwards.
“don’t hide from me.”
your stomach tightened, eyelids hooded.
this thumb brushed against your jaw once, so soft, so unbelieving that you were in his arms despite the fact you technically weren’t his anymore. not that he believed that.
“i can’t stop looking at you.” he admitted, tone rougher now. “been trying since you opened the door, but it’s impossible.”
your thighs pressed together immediately, his gaze dropping to the small action. the reaction was subtle, but there - he noticed everything when it came to you.
you suddenly felt so warm.
“you’re staring so hard.” you murmured nervously, fingers twisting together in your lap.
“because you’re driving me fucking crazy.”
the words came out so plainly your eyes widened.
jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, head tipping backwards against his seat all whilst you watched with heavy breath. the far gone part of your mind wanted to track his neck, trace his adam’s apple with your fingers all so he could continue looking at you the way he had been.
he looked devastating like this - broad thighs spread in the backseat with your body pressed against him, his arm slung heavy on the head of your seat. the both of you were a mess for one another, sick in the head with infatuation.
you weren’t stupid. you knew your effect on him, perhaps not to the full extent, but enough to know that nearly a year’s distance between you was enough to drive a man like him insane. his hand dragged over his face with a quiet groan before adjusting himself slightly over his suit trousers.
your eyes flickered downwards before you could stop yourself.
jungkook smiled at the sound of your quiet giggle as you put a hand over your mouth to muffle it, looking up to meet his gaze after noticing he was half hard. all you had done was exist.
“yeah,” he murmured, the sound of your laugh blooming in his chest. “that’s your fault.”
you slapped his thigh gently, although you couldn’t hold back on the continuous giggles that were now leaving you as you felt lighter than you had in what felt like years. he too matched you, the intensity lightening up massively as he let out a quiet laugh despite himself.
“what’d you expect, hm?” he asked, voice soft. “i haven’t seen you in eight months, and now you’re sat next to me looking like this. wearing pink.”
his hand slowly slid over, brushing against your own, fingertips grazing your skin before he intertwined them, gently.
you let him.
the second you curled your hand into his yourself, his expression changed. up until now, it was him losing control, reigning himself in, biting himself down to make sure you were as comfortable as possible but fuck. you were the one touching him now, making sure he could see you intertwine your hands properly, squeezing his hand.
it felt like a confirmation that this was the beginning of a new chapter.
he wanted to scream, to yell on the top of his lungs at the thought of you openly showing him your willingness. his sweet, angel girl; he loved you more than words could describe and he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing you.
“missed this,” he admitted quietly, eyes on your much smaller hand holding his so intimately. “missed you touching me.”
your eyes burned suddenly.
jungkook noticed immediately with a frown, expression softening at the edges.
“hey, baby.” his thumb brushed yours. “don’t cry.”
“m’not crying.” you whispered, though your voice wobbled embarrassingly.
he held you close to him as you both remained quiet for the rest of the journey, though the silence felt welcomed after such a rush and mix of emotions. you had gone from anxiety, to confusion, to excitement, to warmth, to a painful reminder of what once was - it was enough to drive you insane. being around him hurt, but being near him was healing.
rain continued to pitter patter outside as your hands remained intertwined, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he sat there trying to fathom how this was real. you were letting him in, and he could see it, could see how much it was taking out of you and he’d be damned if he fucked it up again. to get a second chance was insanity alone, but to have it with you?
the car began slowing down.
through the tinted windows, you could see a flash of white, people trying to get a glimpse of the elusive ceo they were so obsessed with. you gulped as you watched other powerful business people walk in with their dates, models and celebrities lining up to have their picture taken.
you leaned into him almost immediately.
jungkook held onto you tightly, arm sliding over your waist and gently squeezing. “i’m here. stay by me.”
you nodded quickly, dazed. “okay.”
his eyes lingered on your face for a second too long before he muttered under his breath, almost like he couldn’t help himself. “you look so fucking pretty.”
your heart nearly stopped, meeting his gaze as your shoulders slumped, feeling calm through his sweet words.
the car door opened.
chaos.
jungkook stepped out first and the reaction was everything you had expected and somehow so much more. your eyes blinked as you watched the cameras explode violently, reporters shouting his name from all directions as they desperately tried to get a clear shot of him, knowing he could easily make front page news without having to try.
your heart stopped for a moment.
his back faced everyone else as he turned to you, taking a hold of your hands once more and gently helping you out of the car, smoothening your dress.
the second they saw you? everything multiplied by ten.
genuine screaming was heard from somewhere behind the barricades as you slowly stepped out, your own hand finding jungkook’s for a sense of comfort which he readily gave you, pulling you in a little closer than necessary. the noise was erupting, your vision blinded momentarily by the insane flashes, reports actually tripping over one another to take pictures of you in particular.
this wasn’t normal.
jeon jungkook never brought women anywhere. never entertained rumours, never dated publicly, never stood beside any other woman that hadn’t been you. even then, you had been painfully private, making sure to attend closed events with rare appearances, often opting to support in the shadows as opposed to centre stage as he was forced to.
but now? this was the loudest statement you could have possibly made and it slowly dawned on you both the nature of the decision.
you were telling the world you were ready to start again.
his entire demeanour had changed out here.
you were overwhelmed to say the least, but it was his arms around you that kept you grounded as you clung to him, your smaller frame tucked so delicately within his own that some found themselves putting their cameras down just so they could observe you both.
you were the epitome of love and neither of you even knew it.
ceo jungkook - all cold eyes, sharp jaw, that terrifying calmness. yet every few seconds he ducked his head down, whispering something in your ear that would have you smiling almost shyly back up at him, easing your mind away from the hundreds of people who wanted nothing more than to get a picture of you.
“jungkook over here!”
“is that your ex-wife?”
“are you two back together?!”
“y/n!”
you flinched slightly as the voices got louder the closer you walked down the carpet towards the venue, but it seemed jungkook’s presence only felt bigger.
“don’t look at them.” he whispered down into your ear, words tucked for you and you alone. “look at me.”
stupidly enough, you obeyed almost instantly. his eyes softened at the way you listened so sweetly.
“good girl.” he muttered absentmindedly before guiding you to the entrance and away from the prying eyes outside.
the words hit you far harder than they should have. good girl.
oh you were so fucked.
—
the venue was utterly breathtaking.
golden lighting spilled across towering ceilings whilst soft music played from a live orchestra at one side of the ballroom, so elegant you’re indeed whether you were even appropriately dressed. people stared at you openly, all whilst you and your flushed cheeks looked away, purposefully keeping your gaze vague and avoiding eye contact with most. glasses clinked together as powerful figures mingled amongst themselves, professional cameras still set up inside.
and yet, none of it compared to the way people reacted to jungkook.
conversations paused when he walked by, people straightening up. executives who had once terrified you now looked nervous approaching him and it reminded you exactly who he was outside of your relationship.
jeon jungkook was a terrifyingly cold, business man. he was untouchable and unfeeling, everything that made a powerful man powerful and then there was you. his one weakness.
his hand remained firm against the small of your back possessively, claiming you as his own in front of anyone who could see. you loved when he was like this, all brooding and dark as though anyone even had a chance to steal him from you - silly man. even now, with months of distance between you and a divorce, you were all his.
“breathe, baby.” he reminded with a quiet hum in your ear.
“i am breathing.” your cheeks warmed.
“barely.”
you shot him a look, though it was void of any real annoyance as he guided you further into the room. you couldn’t help but admire him openly, all whilst he scanned the room, not realising how deep you were falling into your own thoughts. he really had gotten so much bigger, with his chest so wide you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like under your hands. his shoulders too.
you had spent the entire drive trying not to stare at him. you had failed. miserably.
“drink?”
he pulled you out of your thoughts with a little gasp, realising you had been openly checking him out much to his pleasure. you found yourself nodding, nibbling away at your lip. “yes please.”
the words came out too fast, awarding you with a small laugh as he turned towards the bar.
your eyes followed him automatically.
that was another problem entirely. you see, no matter where jungkook stood, attention naturally followed. men greeted him immediately, keen to get into his good books whilst women openly stared, hoping to garner his fancy and yet he was completely and entirely uninterested. his gaze flickered back to you every few moments, as though he still couldn’t believe you were right there, just for him. just because he had asked you to come.
your chest squeezed painfully at the thought.
he returned only a few moments later with two champagne glasses, handing you yours to which you took with a nervous smile.
“thank you.”
your fingers brushed his purposefully. small, barely noticeable.
oh, but how jungkook had noticed. he noticed everything when it came to you and judging from the way his throat bobbed, taking a large sip of his drink, you knew that your poor ex husband was certainly not able to handle your charm.
the champagne helped much quicker than you were expecting it to.
after the first glass, the tension in your shoulders completely eased but it was the second that had you transforming. your overthinking thoughts ceased to exist, as the warmth in your blood brought out a shade of pink in your face that jungkook couldn’t look away from. standing close to him suddenly felt less terrifying and so much more thrilling.
a dangerous combination - especially when jungkook was looking at you with so much hunger.
a buzz had settled deep into your bloodstream, your brain slightly away with the fairies as you continued to sip, looking up at him. your other hand darted out, fingers trailing over his stomach openly, over to where the buttons of his suit sat. what was an absentminded action to you, tipsy, was enough to have jungkook almost shaking.
you were braver when you had alcohol in you, that much had been true your entire relationship, but even this felt quite insane. he watched as your fingers trailed up and down, sliding up to where his chest was only to drop lower and lower. it wasn’t until your fingertips were brushing the top of his suit trousers that he grabbed your hand.
you pouted at him, head tilted. “why?”
your whine had his shoulders rolling.
“because,” he said slowly, voice rough beneath the sound of the orchestra. “you’re getting handsy.”
your lips patted in faux innocence. “am not.”
jungkook stared at you half in disbelief and other half amusement, still holding your hand that he now pressed to his chest firmly. your fingers had nearly slipped below his waistband, a thought that had him nearly taking you home then and there but he knew it was because the alcohol was making you brave - his tipsy girl. his palm engulfed yours, feeling your fingers wriggle underneath to continue your plans with a slight whine but he was both firm and possessive, not letting you go.
you pressed your thighs together again.
this was the champagne.
he knew it, knew it to be a dangerous mix - the alcohol and your naturally clingy personality once you got comfortable, all combined with the eight months apart meant you were now simply doing whatever your heart wanted with little care to your mind.
your cheeks warmed as you watched him stare down at you, gaze heavier than anything all evening. it seemed the longer you were both in each other’s presence, despite how long you’d spent apart, the more bold you were getting - but could you be blamed? he might have been your ex husband but he still belonged to you, and you knew you were still entirely his, a fucked up fact that meant you were both drawn to each other in ways that meant you could never move on.
multiple months of healing all gone to shit in a single night, with a few drinks. who were you both kidding - moving on wasn’t an option. even you could see that now.
your fingers flexed under his hold, people secretly watching you both interact with bated breath. they couldn’t believe this was the same jungkook they were afraid of, made to mush at the hands of the pretty woman in front of him. he was but a man afterall.
rather than pulling away, your fingers simply curled around the fabric of his suit jacket, fingers touching his shirt purposefully to elicit another reaction out of him. he had reduced you to putty in the drive over and perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, but you wanted him to feel the same.
jungkook was quiet. too quiet.
jaw slightly slack as he took you in, you touching him like his body belonged to you and you alone. he relished in the fact you knew it just as well as he did.
he had missed this so much. just the feel of you, no matter how innocent you pretended to be, skin on skin. it felt like a promise.
and now, you were standing here, head tilted to stare up at him properly whilst looking through pretty lashes that batted at him subconsciously.
it was driving him insane.
“you’re staring again.” you hummed at him. his eyebrows narrowed. “because you keep touching me.”
you tried to bite down the smile that began to form on your lips as your fingers continued to flex, soon finding his heartbeat to confirm your suspicious. oh, he was a mess underneath your hand.
“you don’t seem to mind.”
his jaw flexed. you heard him curse under his breath, calling you a fucking minx which only had you giggling just as quietly. it was a powerful thing to have a man as influential as jungkook so weak in the knees for you, and you couldn’t deny the affect it was having on your mind. he snaked a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him in a way that was absolutely not becoming of the environment you were in.
“keep this shit up and i’ll take you home.” he promised quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear.
unfortunately for him, you had no intention of stopping. especially when you had just begun.
“promise?” you whispered back, eyes wide with a faux innocence you knew he wanted to ruin.
his jaw clenched again, blood half boiling at how cheeky you were being and cock hardening by how badly he wanted to ruin you. had this been any other circumstance, you’d already be in the bathroom with your dress to your chest, being pounded into by the only man who knew exactly how to ruin you until you were well bred.
but alas - this night was about proving himself to you, and no matter how hard you made him, he knew he had to do this right.
and so, instead, he pinched you at your waist slightly, pulling an airless squeak out of you before he brushed his lips against your ear.
“behave.”
the word should have been warning enough, but instead, warmth fluttered through you, rushing through your stomach so violently you pressed against him further. jungkook nearly hissed, watching how reactive you were for him, with your hooded eyes and slack jaw.
fuck.
his hands were all over you, with little care to who was watching and you knew tomorrow you’d be mortified when you remembered how brazen you had both been, but it was hard not to feel addicted when you were both feeling the same way. you giggled lightly, hiding your face in his chest momentarily before meeting his gaze.
“you’re very confident for someone i divorced.” you playfully hummed.
at that, he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. “didn’t stop you from getting your pretty hands all over me.”
the alcohol was well into your system as you found yourself giggling once more, fully hiding yourself in his chest to which he wrapped his arms around you properly, the two of you whispering and laughing together as though it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook’s colleagues, rivals and admirers all watched you both in genuine curiosity at the way you were so well suited. two people, quietly infatuated with one another - it was toothache inducing.
the conversation between you both remained playful, with his thumb tracing your bottom lip at one point muttering something about how badly he wanted to know how your lip gloss tasted. an hour in and you were both practically trying to one up each other with how far you could take it, leaving you both laughing whilst trying to stay quiet.
this is what you had missed. joy. comfort. being around him in a way that didn’t feel like you were fighting to prove something. it had been so long since you’d felt this carefree that you realised pretty quickly that you couldn’t let him ago again. it was a horrible thought at first, realising that the past few months may have been for naught but perhaps absence did make the heart fonder.
soon enough, you had been there close enough two hours and jungkook had done the rounds once you settled in, less tipsy but still buzzed. you met his new business partners, clients you hadn’t seen in a while, a mixture of familiar faces and people you had only ever heard about. neither of you commented on the fact he introduced you intimately, with a heavy arm around your waist.
it genuinely felt like no time had past with the way you both felt so comfortable, the dynamics between you natural considering he had been the one constant in your life for the past fifteen years. you sipped on your glass of water as you listened to his conversation half mindedly, watching him discuss a new company contract with one of his shareholders.
it wasn’t until you heard a voice echo throughout the ballroom announcing the beginning of the charity auction that the conversation came to an end. jungkook immediately took a hold of your hand, planting a cheeky kiss to your knuckles with a slight smirk, before leading you towards the front of the room where the different things on auction sat to be admired over.
“c’mon.”
you followed him easily, hands intertwined whilst you walked side by side, champagne now a dull buzz in your body. people moved around you respectfully, all whilst their eyes lingered on you much longer than needed. could you blame them? you were the infamous woman that had managed to lock down the one man that seemed disinterested in everything, so much so that you had him laughing and flushing pink every time you so much as looked at him. the divorced couple that looked anything but divorced.
oh, they were staring indeed, with hushed whispers and even quieter questions.
your attention drifted lazily over the displayed pieces, politely but nothing quite caught your interest, your eyebrows pulling up at some of the art pieces named. it wasn’t until you reached the very end that you found yourself stopped in your tracks.
jungkook noticed, he too coming to a stop to glance over at you only for his gaze to follow yours. he immediately understood.
beneath warm lighting sat a painting, inconspicuous to most considering it was much smaller than the grand pieces to the left, but it had your eyelashes fluttering
white gardenias.
your breath left you quietly.
it wasn’t just flowers - it was an oil painting, textured with strokes of green, ivory and creams whilst petals cascaded over one another so delicately your heart ached. the background dat moodier, darker compared to the softness of the flower leaving you in a state of utter awe for a few moments, all whilst holding the hand of your ex-husband who watched you with bated breath.
it was beautiful.
you stepped closer unconsciously, hardly aware of yourself.
jungkook didn’t think he’d ever seen you look at something with this much wonder, in all of the years he had known you. it did something to him, to watch you genuinely in awe at something he could so easily give you - it made him realise he needed provide it for you just to see that look again and again and again and again and again.
he felt this throat tighten, a harsh lump forming the longer he watched you admire it. the way your glossy lips parted, eyes widened and fingers tracing the air in front of it - donned in the same diamond necklace he had gotten you years prior. the same necklace he’d bought you after you murmured something about diamonds resembling stars late one night as you curled into him in your shared bed.
and here you were, wearing it, all whilst your hand curled inside his as though you had never been more at peace. that did something to him. something he couldn’t quite describe.
your fingers moved to brush over the small description plaque underneath, reading the inspiration for the piece with a small, choked huff - devotion. enduring, eternal love through trial and tribulation through each season of life.
your own throat tightened then. of course.
“gardenias are difficult flowers..they die so easily if you don’t take care of them.” you found yourself whispering; straightening your back and avoiding his gaze to bite back any tears that wanted to appear.
his chest tightened violently.
all he could think about was the little apartment you had both shared when you were younger, when he barely had any money to get you by each month. the one with the poor lighting and the janky sink - you used to sit by the window each morning whilst he got ready for work, whispering sweet things down at them because you believed it would help them grow.
he remembered every single detail.
“you kept yours alive for months.” he whispered back, the hand that was clasped in yours now intertwining your fingers, as though he could project his memories back to you.
you blinked back at him, eyes glassy, surprised slightly. you hadn’t expected him to remember something so small and insignificant.
how could jungkook could ever forget a single thing about you?
a small smile pulled at your lips. “i used to get upset whenever they’d lose petals.”
“you cried once.” he corrected.
you rolled your eyes. “shut up!”
he only shrugged, lips twitching. “had to console you all night.”
“i thought i killed it!”
his quiet laugh nearly knocked the air from your lungs, all whilst he pulled you back into him, breathing in the scent from your hair before taking you to your shared table, where the auction was about to begin. your fingers remained curled around his own, all whilst he helped you sit down, fixing your dress for you.
he physically couldn’t pull away from you, couldn’t stop touching you even as you began conversing to the woman beside you, who jungkook recognised as one of his shareholders. his thigh was pressed against yours, all whilst his hand sat heavy in your lap, both of your hands playing with his fingers absentmindedly.
the different items came on stage as you watched people bid, raising their panels whilst some shouted out their numbers for more exclusive pieces. you couldn’t help your giggles, leaning over to whisper in jungkook’s ear whenever you’d see more excited people, all for him to lean into you with an equal smile. the two of you were being silly, and it felt fun for once.
by the time the gardenia painting finally appeared, your posture straightened as you tapped on his hand with a wiggle of your eyebrows. jungkook watched you with a lazy grin, eyes flicking over your face.
cute.
the bidding started much lower than you expected, causing you to frown. “that’s it?”
he nearly laughed, seeing your passion for your flowers. “art’s subjective, baby.”
“yeah, well everyone is wrong..so.”
fuck. he loved you so much.
you watched as someone raised their paddle, and then another, and another. a bidding war began as your head bounced between people, watching in utter curiosity though a part of you wondered what it would be like to bid yourself. ironically for you, you were completely unaware of the man beside you staring at your profile like he wanted to devote the rest of his life to you.
“two million.”
your eyebrows raised.
“two and a half!” someone else shouted, causing you to play with his fingers a little faster almost out of excitement.
“hope someone who actually appreciates it gets it.” you leaned over to whisper into his ear, lips brushing against his cheek in the process.
his jaw ticked.
game on.
just as someone shouted out, claiming three million, jungkook ran a hand through his hair before raising his panel, dark eyes trained on the auctioneer.
“five million.”
your head snapped sideways so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, all whilst jungkook sat completely calm, hand raised lazily as though this was easy. like he hadn’t just dropped five million as though it was nothing.
“jungkook!” you whispered, eyes wide. he merely hummed back at you, hand still intertwined with yours. “hm?”
“what are you doing?!”
“getting you your painting.”
you stared at him in disbelief.
across the room, multiple people were openly whispering now, glancing between you because everyone could recognise what was exactly happening. this wasn’t ego - this was love.
obsessive, and terrifying love.
another bidder raised their paddle almost nervously, calling out a measly “five and a half” after a moment of hesitation.
“seven million.”
an audible murmur fluttered through the room just as you grabbed onto his arm with a large gasp, eyes widening as though he was batshit insane. “jungkook, stop!”
he finally looked at you, small smile playing on his lips at the sight of you so shocked. it was so cute the way you were practically toppling over your seat, a reminder that despite being with him, you had never really dabbled in his wealth whatsoever despite it all belonging to you.
a large shout of ‘sold’ was heard by all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. his eyes admired you, from your lips to your eyes, your shaking hands that were both clinging to his thigh, your cleavage that had dipped even further than earlier. fuck. you were the epitome of everything he had ever wanted.
“you wanted it.” he whispered to you, as though that was all he needed, as though it was enough of a reason to spend seven million in one night with a flick of his wrist.
your eyes near enough watered at his words, knowing that nothing had ever described jungkook better.
—
things between you and jungkook had settled into something dangerous.
not enough to call yourselves fixed, or enough to place a label onto whatever fragile thing had formed between you, but enough that your days seemed lighter. having him back in your life meant you were happy again, and actually excited - finally feeling whole in ways that no one else quite understood.
he called more often now.
what started off as phone calls sometimes briefly between meetings, something about using your voice to destress before important gatherings. they quickly turned to late night facetimes where both of you laid in bed, half naked, chatting until either of you would fall asleep. some nights they turned into something darker, dirtier, with a slip of your night dress to show him more all whilst he’d grunt and hiss at the sight, whispering all of the things he wanted to do to you.
it was beginning to feel domestic, familiar even. so terrifyingly easy.
you realised pretty quickly that somewhere along the way, between late night conversations and soft laughs exchanged, you had began falling deeply in love again.
hard.
he had been away on business ever since the gala a few weeks ago, with him currently stationed in hong kong over some important stakeholder meetings. you knew he was incredibly stressed over it, given the frequency of his calls - always at odd times during the day and night, sometimes with the intention of just looking at your face as though it was the only motivator he needed.
the time difference was more irritating than you had expected, and yet he still managed to find a way to accommodate to your schedule as opposed to his.
your favourite so far had been a simple picture of the skyline view from his hotel, taken at three am with a caption of ‘wish you were here.’
you hated how much those four words affected you.
pathetic, really. how even now, you’d kick your feet in excitement over any message sent from your ex husband.
it had become routine now, to expect messages from him with each waking moment, calls when the workload was heavier. perhaps that was exactly why the silence that afternoon felt so particularly loud.
you were curled into your couch, opting to work from home as you were in his jumper and a pair of flimsy shorts. you hummed quietly as you balanced your laptop on your thighs, all whilst a random entertainment news channel played in the back to offer some noise in your otherwise quiet apartment.
your ears perked up once you heard jungkook’s name somewhere in the background.
your attention barely lifted at first, no doubt another gossip sesh on how attractive he was which often made you giggle, but this felt different.
“ceo jeon jungkook spotted in hong kong alongside mystery woman-“
your stomach dropped.
the laptop slipped from your thighs and onto the couch cushion, all whilst your head snapped towards the television, reaching for the remote to turn it up. the image splashed across the screen, all whilst you sat there, smaller than anything, watching.
jungkook.
beside him, an undeniably beautiful woman.
she was tall, elegant, dressed sharply in a suit practically created for her whilst cameras flashed at them harshly, exiting a building together. the headline underneath made your chest cave in further.
‘global heartthrob ceo finally moving on after the divorce?’
you stared. and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared until your knees had slowly slid to the ground, your back touching the couch whilst the entertainment show droned on and on about the details of your relationship with jungkook, about how smitten you had both seen at the gala, how they were the first to break this exclusive news.
your brain knew better. you knew jungkook like the back of your hand and logically, you fucking knew better. jungkook was so many things, but he had always placed you and your emotions first, your priorities, your necessities, your life - your wants and needs transcended everything else. you had never asked for it to be this way, it was just the way he was.
even during your separation, he had never looked at a woman twice. you knew that.
but logic had never been able to defeat insecurity.
all you could think, all you could see, based off of a single image was how she fit beside him. how effortless it looked, how beautiful she was, how successful. so poised and polished - she was everything a woman who stood beside jungkook ought to have been and it was killing you in real time.
the worst thing of all was the realisation that he didn’t belong to you.
all of this emotion, this horrible feeling inside your chest and soul - you were the one to divorce him. you had been the one that demanded it end back then, no matter how much he had begged you to see reason, believing that it was the correct step forward for the both of you. he had every right to move onto someone else, had every right to actually step forward towards something new.
and yet the thought of him belonging to someone else felt the closest to grief you had ever felt in your life.
your phone rang violently loud beside you, droning out the words of the presenter and making you jump slightly.
jungkook.
your eyes burned instantly.
the phone continued to ring and ring across the sofa cushion as you stared at his contact picture, a photo taken on your anniversary a few years ago that you could never bring yourself to change. your chest rose unevenly as another harsh wave of emotion hit you.
you couldn’t do this.
not after you had spent the past few months trying not to think about him, only for him to come back into your life.
the call rang out.
then another came. and another. and another.
your phone was blowing up with a mixture of calls and messages, each vibration making your heart ache so much worse as the topic changed on the tv, talking about some other celebrity gossip all whilst you felt your entire life collapse before your very eyes.
with shaking hands and teary orbs, you turned your phone off.
you burst into tears.
the rest of the day was spent being utterly miserable. you had never felt so pathetic in all of your life, with pain running up and down your veins in a way that genuinely left you almost debilitated. the last time you were this heartbroken, you were a fresh divorcee.
the curtains remained shut despite the afternoon sun outside, your apartment dim besides the soft flicker of the television that continued playing mindlessly in the background. at some point, you had dragged yourself towards your bed with tears still streaming down your face, his oversized jumper now heavy on your frame.
you hated this version of yourself.
hated how deeply this had affected you despite knowing better. you knew him better than this, had enough trust in him and yet you couldn’t barter with what was directly in front of you - months after rebuilding a sense of confidence all for it to shatter over one measly, gossip channel.
you closed your eyes, images of the beautiful woman stood beside him flooding your mind causing you to open them up again with a quiet whimper. so composed and effortless. untouched by the devastation eating you alive.
by morning, your chest was in genuine pain.
you looked awful too.
your eyes were swollen, red with the continuous tears all night whilst your skin felt sunken and dull, the early morning sun hitting your skin from glimpses through your blinds. you forced yourself out of your bed and into your shower, trying to rid the plaguing thoughts out of your body. you failed, spending the majority of it quietly crying.
by the time you were in the living room again, your nose was just as pink as your eyes, hands shaky and body adorned in an old t-shirt you had secretly stolen from his wardrobe back when you were packing to leave. you curled weakly into the couch, blanket curled onto your legs as you begged your body to rid the horrible stomach ache that had now found home inside you.
your phone remained switched off, somewhere under the blanket, still left there from yesterday. you reached for the remote.
you just wanted mindless noise.
instead, the television flickered to life and you found your breath catching harshly for the umpteenth time within 24 hours.
breaking news banners on every channel you came across.
jeon jungkook.
a whimper pulled up out of your throat at the sight of his images everywhere, your fingers tightening around the blanket before you turned the volume up.
“the ceo has officially filed legal proceedings against multiple media outlets this morning following yesterday’s false dating allegations-“
your heartbeat began thundering. you sat up immediately.
another clip appeared instantly, reporters practically tripping over one another in front of jungkook’s main company building, cameras flashing in hopes of getting a picture of anyone who could answer for anything.
“the statement released by jeon jungkook’s legal team less than half an hour ago reads as follows-“
the screen shifted, and suddenly, there it was. cold white text against a black background that had your breathing stopping completely.
“the allegations regarding ceo jeon jungkook are entirely false. the individual photographed was present for a scheduled business meeting attended by multiple executives and investors. legal action will be taken against all parties responsible for the deliberate spread of false information and invasion of privacy.”
your throat tightened harshly.
your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the presenter stop, looking at the camera momentarily, before her voice completely softened.
“as for the final portion of the statement, many online are expressing surprise regarding the unusually personal nature of his response as he personally commented-“
more text appeared.
you scanned it once. twice.
over and over and over until a harsh sob was ripped from your lips.
“i have never entertained nor pursued any romantic involvement with anyone.
there has only ever been one woman.”
a broken sound tore from your throat as your hand flew to your mouth, fresh tears spilling from eyes so fast that you couldn’t see the tv. your heart felt like it had been picked up from the ground, cradled and cherished after being pierced over and over all night, attacked without any reprise.
you couldn’t believe what you were reading.
jungkook, your jungkook? so private and reserved, not willing to give one inch of himself to anyone other than you and yet here he was, making himself as clear as possible. he was telling everyone with ears that you were his but more importantly, he belonged to you and you alone.
he despised media attention, it truly was the one thing he hated more than anything and the both of you would often laugh at rumours and random things stated in the tabloids because they were all bullshit.
and yet he has made a statement publicly.
for you.
your chest cracked at the thought as you covered your face with both hands, sobbing harder and harder.
before you could wallow further, a loud banging erupted from the front door.
the sound tore so violently through the apartment, you jumped - startled on the couch whilst your heart leapt to your throat. the slight fear had your tears stopping immediately, allowing for enough of a shock to regulate your mind for a few moments.
another knock came before you could even process it. louder, and louder, and louder.
“baby!”
your breath hitched painfully.
jungkook?
his voice sounded wrecked. not the calm, controlled man the world knew, nor the eerie ceo who often stood emotionless in front of the cameras whilst deals worth billions sat heavy on his shoulders. this was your jungkook - the one who loved you much too hard, half unravelled whenever the conversation pertained to you.
“open the door.” he shouted again, along another collective banging. his voice cracked slightly. “please..”
you stared into space for just a moment, your mind unable to comprehend what was happening before your legs carried you to the door, through the hallway. you slipped on your blanket slightly, already shaking body weaker than usual given the past twenty four hours, all whilst hot, heavy tears burned in your eyes once more.
another knock.
“baby, c’mon..”
the second your shaking hands unlocked the door, it swung open hard enough to hit the wall behind it, as though jungkook couldn’t believe you had actually heard him.
he looked utterly destroyed.
he stood, still in a suit that now sat disheveled on his frame, black tie loosened around his throat, white shirt wrinkled as though he had been in it for hours. his usually pushed back hair was messy, pulled at and tugged through large hands any time he had realised the depths of emotion you were no doubt feeling looking at the news - if the shoe was on the other foot, and jungkook had seen news of you and another man; he would’ve happily burnt the world to a crisp.
the second he saw you, his entire face fell apart, anger long dissipating.
“fuck.” he whispered, heaving out a breath.
his oversized shirt sat on your body, engulfing your smaller frame, swallowing you whole in a way that had his breath taken away. it was your eyes that broke him, however, as they looked so swollen, no doubt from crying so hard, your cheeks still damp and lips still quivering enough that he watched you bite down on them.
you watched his throat bob harshly, watched his eyes flicker over yourself frantically like he was trying to assess how badly you had been hurting without him here to comfort you. the thought terrified him.
that was all it took for a sob to rip out of your chest so painfully your knees almost buckled. your hands flew up to your face.
immediately, his arms shot out, cradling you almost harshly to him with one large arm completely covering you whilst his large hand pressed against the back of your head, holding you close to him as though this was the only remedy for a situation like this. his sweet girl. his sweet, sweet girl.
“i called you for nineteen fucking hours.” he said, eyes darting down at you desperately.
you couldn’t stop crying. “i know.”
“your phone was off.” his voice broke slightly, as though the situation had hurt him beyond words. “that scared me, y/n.” he admitted, chest heaving a little.
your crying only worsened immediately because of course it scared him - jeon jungkook, a man who’s entire identity was you and you alone. the prospect of losing you for the second time would surely be enough to kill him, and yet answering his calls felt like the last thing you could bring yourself to do.
“i tried not to think like that,” you choked out through hiccups. “i know you wouldn’t, logically i know but just kept seeing the pictures of you beside her and..”
your chest was heaving.
“stop talking about her.”
the words came out sharp, almost harsh.
his hand slipped to cup your face, holding your jaw in place whilst his arm slipped down, cupping your body to him so you could rest, his own strength supporting you up. his eyes were wild.
“don’t,” he repeated quieter, chest rising and falling. “don’t..stand here and..fuck, don’t compare yourself to someone else for even a second over some shitty tabloid.”
you couldn’t stop crying. it was as though that was all you could do.
“jungkook..”
“no.” he cut in immediately, voice cracking at the edges. “you don’t get it.”
he stood before you, a cocktail mix of utter despair and devotion, all whilst anger and fear simmered on the surface, every emotion open on his face to the point he almost felt unrecognisable. you knew he loved you, could see it painted on his features for the world to see but you weren’t sure when his feelings for you had become his very destruction. it scared you.
his hand shook around your face.
“you think i flew half a day because of a fucking dating rumour?” his eyes glazed over. “i don’t give a fuck about the tabloids, baby, you know that. i was scared because i know what this would do to you. i know your brain.”
your breath hitched.
“i know you.” he repeated, hands continuing to shake against you. “know how your mind gets. i know you’d sit here and cry over this shit when you know i would never touch another woman.”
another harsh sob clawed up your throat, and jungkook heaved at the sight as though it was the worst sound he had ever heard.
“look at me.” he pleaded suddenly.
his hands dropping from your body as he suddenly dropped to his knees - a man of his stature rendered completely broken by the woman he loved. the amount of people who looked up to him, feared him; the amount of people he dictated on a daily basis and yet here he was, on his knees for you. only you.
“there has never been anyone else.” his voice cracked completely. “not before you, not after you. not after this, no matter what happens, you hear me? it’s you, and it’s always going to be just you.”
your own knees were begging to give out, as you leaned against him, only for him to rest his face against your stomach, breathing you in like a man desperate for your understanding. he wanted you to see, needed you to comprehend the situation at hand. there was no him without you, the concept didn’t exist.
“you’re the only woman i’ve ever loved and there is nothing after you, y/n, because you’re my wife. divorce or not, i don’t give a fuck, i belong to you forever whether you want me or not and i won’t..i can’t have you thinking otherwise.”
your entire body gave in at the admission as you collapsed into him with another heart breaking sob, jungkook holding you like a man terrified he had said too much and truly not enough. for the first time since the divorce, neither of you tried to pretend this wasn’t exactly what it was.
—
the rest of the evening softened after that.
somewhere between the tears and the endless kisses planted to your cheeks, nose, head, hands and stomach came an ease to the panic that had long settled into your bones for the past few months. he refused to let you go, grunting almost childishly whenever you’d move out of his arms to do anything until you found yourself snuggled back into his arms, as though the thought of distance after such a clear cut declaration of love physically pained him.
he looked exhausted now that the adrenaline of the situation had worn off, his under eyes sunken from the exhaustion that had now settled deep into his body. to think he had flown all the way across the world simply because of the thought of you crying all alone over a situation that was so completely false upset him - it made you want to sob all over again.
how could you have ever let him go? how could you proceed forward without him, without him so deeply intertwined in your life once more?
eventually you found an old pair of black shorts mixed in with your clothes from when you had packed your things all those months ago. jungkook had stared at them for a few moments after his shower, towel low on his hips as water droplets slipped down his chest. it had his heart pounding faster than anything yet.
“you kept these?” he murmured down at you, watching the way your eyes flickered up from his physique, small gasp leaving your lips at being caught. “oh! um..must’ve slipped them in by accident.”
he didn’t comment on the fact you were wearing his t-shirt either, despite it hardening his cock.
still, he pulled them on as you settled into bed, your hair still scented from your earlier shower too. you, in his too big top, whilst he grabbed you immediately, shirtless and hands still desperate to hold you in a way he had held back on for so long.
you hummed as your body pressed against his, his figure snaking around your body as a heavy arm curled under your ass as a means to prop you up higher in his arms, causing you to giggle into his neck. your arms wrapped around him too, humming a little under your breath as he breathed in your scent openly.
you both laid there in silence for a long while, breathing. healing.
the room was dark now, with the city lights from afar shining through the slips of your blinds, illuminating slivers of his bare chest beside where your hands sat. you could feel his heartbeat, the way it calmed your already heightened senses as though your body recognised it was finally home.
“missed this.” you whispered into his ear, only snuggling closer to him.
jungkook’s grip, once on your waist, slid down to your ass once more. this time, his palm sat on your ass cheek, fingers digging into your skin whilst breathing you in.
“don’t say shit like that to me when i’m hard.” he grunted, a small smile forming across your lips. you hadn’t even done anything, not that you needed to to get jungkook bothered.
when you pulled him from your neck, his eyes were already glazed over, both of you taking a second to simply stare at one another in the exact way you had wanted for so long. his mouth parted, as his hooded eyes took you in, holding you closer, tighter.
within seconds, his lips touched yours.
slowly, at first, as though he was trying to relearn you after years of you being his. he savoured every moment of your lips against his, especially once you started to kiss him back, both of you uncertain in the beginning but once your hands began to find home in his hair, it was then that jungkook’s touch began to grow in confidence.
he kissed like a man starved, one hand buried in your hair too whilst the other continued to grip your ass possessively, as though physically feeling you was enough to have his mind go into overdrive. every small sound you made went straight to his cock as he swallowed your little sighs and whimpers, only pushing him to kiss you deeper and deeper and deeper.
he was growing desperate, pushing you down against the bed, half hovering over you as he rested on one arm, hand cupping at your thighs, your stomach, your knee. anything he could get his hands on all whilst his tongue explored your mouth as though he had every right.
perhaps he did because despite everything, the divorce and distance, the heartbreak - he still reacted to you like you were the only thing capable of fucking him up.
his lips eventually drifted from your mouth, pressing against your chin, your jaw and finally your neck. oh, this sweet, pretty little neck, he had dreams of marking it up and down every other night and the fact he had you in his arms now, in a bed far too small for the things he so desperately wanted to do to you was everything and more.
jungkook moved, properly hovering over you now just as you moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, pushing your top down your thighs and revealing your lace panties you had conveniently put on. just in case, of course.
he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths as you watched it break apart the further he pulled his head back. just staring at you hurt, with the way your cheeks had flushed and your hair was spread all across the pillow, and your thighs. fuck. the sight of what was between them had him openly groaning down at you.
“need you to tell me to stop baby, or i won’t be able to hold back.” he hissed down at you, feeling your legs tighten around him before he could finish his sentence.
your hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, eyes never leaving his as you tugged on it just slightly. jungkook, who’s two hands were on either side of your head, blinked down at you half in awe and other agony, the prospect of you teasing him in a moment like this his literal worst nightmare. you always knew how to make him impatient, said it was the best version of him.
he watched with bated breath as you grabbed one of his arms until his hand was in your own, slowly pushing it under your top to rest on your stomach. it felt heavy on your frame, large palm heating your already hot skin before you pulled him down, other arm wrapping around his neck.
“wanna feel you here, kookie.” you whispered into his ear.
jungkook nearly took you then and there.
his jaw flexed, a heavy leaving his lips as he chased your lips, planting another kiss. “yeah? want kookie deep inside?”
“mhm.” you hummed against him, placing your hand over his on your stomach.
“but haven’t taken me for so long, baby. might be too much.”
you closed your eyes at that - the way he cooed down at you despite telling you how easily he could ruin you, break you. it all felt like too much and yet the empty ache inside of you reminded you it wasn’t enough, causing you to merely nod.
“i don’t care. want it.”
the pout on your lips. fuck. jungkook thanked the gods he was a better man, more patient, especially knowing you were doing this on purpose.
“always used to struggle to take me, hm? fucked you open every night and you’d still cry.”
jungkook reached forward, lips on your neck once more but this time, his hips began chasing yours, grinding down almost harshly, causing you to feel every inch, every vein against the flimsy material you called panties. it was heavenly
your hands grabbed him by his biceps, smaller hands unable to wrap around the circumference of his skin. how could you forget your nights of passion? he would spend hours between your legs, so mean, orgasm after orgasm and he still wouldn’t feel satisfied, an insatiable man to his core. even on nights you’d argue, it would somehow end in you fucking which meant the last eight months had been utter hell.
your poor fingers couldn’t reach far enough and nothing brought you to an orgasm unless you thought of him, imagining it was own digits instead of your own.
silly you - if only you realised how similar you and jungkook were. he couldn’t get off unless he was on your instagram, staring at your pretty eyes and lips as he tugged on his cock with all of his energy, round after round after round only to be constantly dissatisfied. having you below him, so ready to be his again? it fucked with his head.
“you'll make it fit.” you whispered.
within mere moments, neither of you could wait. his shorts, alongside the large tshirt that originally belonged to him were on the floor, leaving you in your lacy panties alone. his boxers strained against his hardened length which oozed precum at the mere sight of you, hips bucking a little as you watched him groan out loud at the wet patch forming against the flimsy material.
“my pretty pussy.” he whispered, just as he parted your legs. his fingers pushed your panties to the side, almost hissing from how damp they were, knowing you must have been needy for a while. “missed her. you’ve been holding out on me, baby.”
your eyelashes fluttered up at him at the first touch of his fingers running up and down your slit. you let out an airy moan, barely audible, your body immediately easing back into the covers now that you could finally feel him on you.
he suckled on your neck whilst he circled your clit, knowing your body better than anyone. you were both so in tune with each other’s wants and needs that an eight month break between you both meant nothing when he bit against the sweet spot on your neck all whilst applying more pressure.
you squeaked, nails digging into his biceps at the harshness of his fingers.
“fuck, you’re so needy.” he grunted, pulling away from your neck after leaving a hefty purple bruise. “not been touching your pussy the way it needs.”
“doesn’t feel..” you moaned louder. “doesn’t feel good if you don’t do it.”
his eyes almost rolled back at that. “yeah? need kookie to be the one to touch you?”
“mhm.”
at that, he pulled his hand away only resulting in a loud whine from you. so cruel, to have been given a taste, only to have it pulled away from you.
your positions, however, suddenly changed as jungkook realised the space on the bed was much smaller compared to the bed you had once shared. he rested his back on your wooden bed frame before grabbing you properly, resting you in his lap against his too hard cock, spreading your legs wide.
your back was against his chest, all whilst he caged you in, his fingers returning to your cunt immediately.
this new position had you so much more exposed, as he pushed your thighs apart, index finger circling your hole before slowly pushing inside. your eyebrows furrowed, watching him with a shake to your breath as he took his time, knowing a single one of his was the equivalent of two or three of your own - a though that had him wanting to fuck into you already.
the loud moan that left your lips once he fully inserted it was enough to have him kissing at your temple, cooing.
“like that?”
“feels big.” you whispered back with a shake, feeling him pump in and out.
at that, jungkook thought he was ready to fucking cum. even your pussy was as sweet as you were - too big? one finger and you were already fucked out, but he knew he had to stretch you to accommodate him, a thought that brought a nasty little smirk on his face.
“gotta fuck you open, baby. always so tight.” he continued to coo at you, all as you looked up at him, his finger being joined with another.
soon enough, he was roughly fingering you, all whilst you both maintained eye contact, often breaking it just to share a kiss as though neither of you could get closer to the other. the feeling of him inside you, just like you had become used to for so many years after months apart was the definition of pleasure, your eyes hooded with each pump.
“feels s’good.” you slurred slightly, chest heaving.
he watched your breasts, your bed squeaking with each passing movement and he fucking loved it. loved having your eyes on him, loved having your tits bounced everytime he’d fuck you open a little harder, your sweet moans filling the space.
you could feel how hard he was, but everytime you tried to turn to pleasure him too, he’d merely hold you tighter, as though your orgasm was the only objective on his mind. he wanted to eat you out, fuck - the thought had him all but growling at you but he knew he’d never last, promising himself he’d save that for later tonight.
“wish you knew how many times i’ve dreamt about this.” he grunted down at you, as he watched your thighs try to close from the onslaught of pleasure, only for him to widen them immediately. “i’m constantly fisting my cock thinking about you. at work, at home, in the fucking car.”
“what do you think about?” you pressed desperately, needing to hear it.
jungkook bared his teeth at you slightly, all whilst his pace quickened. “think about breeding you, pumping you full of cum till you’re begging me to stop. every morning, every night until you’re pregnant with our baby. you’d like that, hm?”
you could have sobbed. like was an understatement, your legs widening with each passing word as you nodded almost desperately at him, looking up and above where his head tilted down to watch you.
your eyes then fluttered shut at the image of him touching himself, almost shuddering out of relief at the thought of him so infatuated that he had to cum just to get you off of his mind. especially at work - the whole reason of your divorce being his dedication to his occupation and now knowing you had your affect on him there too? it was euphoric.
“think about you all the time.” you whimpered back at him, pout so cute he wanted to scream. “tried..fuck..tried to touch myself after the gala..but wasn’t enough.”
he watched as you shook your head up at him, one of your hands on his wrist as the same hand pumped faster inside of you at the admission. he cursed under his breath, letting out a deep exhale.
“should’ve told me. fuck, y/n. would’ve ruined you then, baby, you know that right?” he nuzzled into your cheek. “would’ve let you use me as much as you want.”
it was your turn to whimper under your breath, as your eyes shut tight at the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to creep up. it was shocking, how slowly it managed to creep on you, and yet you could feel every inch of its intensity, the first in a long time where you know you’d feel satisfied.
jungkook could feel you clenching, your too tight hole sucking him in desperately as a bid to have him go meaner on you, to which he was more than happy to oblige with. he grabbed your chin with his other hand, forcing your head back so you’d open your eyes again. he wanted to watch.
“eyes on me, pretty girl.”
you weren’t sure if it was the sweet way he cooed at you, or the brutal pace he was now forcing you to take but your orgasm hit you like a freight train. you let out a loud squeak as electricity fluttered through from your head to your toes, your hips rising whilst he continued to finger you through your high, hissing at how sexy you looked maintaining eye contact.
his pace didn’t lessen, devoted to longing out every hit of pleasure for as long as possible, your legs shaking as you pawed at his wrist, but he refused to stop. your body began falling into overstimulation, whining loudly as your weakened hands grabbed onto his, feeling him finally slow whilst he remained two fingers deep, pushed inside of you all the way to his knuckles.
he curled them one last time, causing a shaky breath to leave you before slowly removing them inch by inch.
the emptiness inside of you was horrible, a reminder of what else you wanted and how badly. your big eyes met his, only to watch him take his fingers press them against your pouted lips until they parted, your tongue wrapping around. you tasted yourself, a sweet sigh leaving his lips at the sight of you sucking so eagerly, his cock jolting harshly in his boxers.
“still don’t think you can take me right now.” he whispered down at you, other hand moved so it was openly cupping your pussy as a whole, palm brushing against your hypersensitive clit.
you jolted which each passing touch, breathing shaky before you took his fingers out of your mouth, saliva coating them where your slick once was.
“don’t care, kookie. i want it anyway.” you grumbled slightly, and he swore he had never loved you more.
it was your turn to move as you pulled away from his grasp, giggling a little to yourself at the look on his face once you put space between you, only to turn around, so you were laying on your stomach. he remained in his position, legs on either side of you allowing you to press your hand against his massive bulge.
oh, how you’d missed his cock.
you were as impatient as ever as you pulled his boxers down enough so that his fat cock could finally spring free, watching the way it tilted upwards at first, but its weight forced it down lower and lower until it was resting almost gently on your face.
he wanted to take a picture. wanted to make it his screen saver, your contact picture in his phone - he wanted it in his fucking wallet. his girl, eyes all hooded after being bratty for his cock? you were a minx and you didn’t even know it.
“don’t have a condom.” he found himself whispering at you, just as you began to pump him.
you tilted your head at him, hand unable to wrap around his length as you slowly teased his slit, fingers brushing against it just to him shudder. you watched his face, watched his very composure crumble before your very eyes all whilst he muttered something about a condom? your mind was barely working, still sensitive from the way he had made you cum and the horniness still in your stomach.
“why would i want you to wear a condom?” you whispered up at him, as though it was a little secret between you.
you watched his eyes darken in real time, narrowing down at you as both of his large hands grabbed the back of your head. you giggled, resting your cheek on his thigh whilst you continued to pump his cock, focusing on the tip just the way he liked it. the heaviness in your hand was what you missed the most, causing you to leave a little kiss to it on the mushroom tip, your fluttering eyes only driving him more and more insane.
he wouldn’t last like this. not with you staring up at him like that.
and so, he pulled your hair. you whimpered, pussy clenching as he pulled you up by your locks, your large eyes completely taken over by how rough he was being with you, no doubt being fuelled by the heightened emotions of the past two days. this was your favourite jungkook, secretly of course.
within seconds, you were on your back once more, all whilst he grabbed your hips and yanked you close to him. he dropped down to give you a kiss on your lips, savouring the taste and feel of you before beginning to rub his cock up and down your tight hole.
“my girl.” he whispered against your mouth. “no going back after this.”
your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of him teasing you, pushing the tip against your hole only to pull back the second it began inserting, rubbing it up and down and over your clit once more. he was a tease through and through, but you were too needy to see reason.
“don’t wanna go back, want it all.” you simply whimpered back.
your words were enough to finally have him pushing inside of you.
first, the tip. your face contorted to the familiar feel of his cock slowly inserting inside of you, your breath catching slightly at the sheer size of him - you struggled to take him even when your sex life was incredibly active, so you knew now that you hadn’t been touched for eight months, this was going to be hard.
you watched his face harden, all whilst your eyes slipped downwards to see him pushing further in, inch by inch, until your fingernails were puncturing the skin of his outer arms. he watched your face instead, willing himself not to cum at the way your jaw grew slack, big eyes only widening further at the too large cock settling in inside of you.
it was too much, too big, too at once. you couldn’t think, could barely see and yet you couldn’t pull yourself away from watching him bottom out even if you wanted to, a slight bulge evident where he sat deep inside of you. his large hand took a hold of yours and kissed it before pressing it against the bulge, only to rest his own right on top. applying pressure, he hissed at the way you let out a loud whimper, your cute thighs trembling around him.
“feel that?” he whispered down at you, nuzzling your nose to force you to look at him. “thats where i fucking belong. this pussy stretches so good for me every time.”
your lip was already trembling, a sight that had his cock throbbing deep inside of you as you clenched down on him hard. his cry baby - he loved seeing you teary during sex.
you were still adjusting as he began to move, causing you to squeal, but jungkook couldn’t wait anymore, not when he’d been dealt with blue balls for close to a year. you were the only option, pledging to live a life of fucking celibacy if you’d have chosen to never let him inbetween your legs again though the thought killed him inside. live a life without a taste of your sweet pussy? he’d sooner die.
“jungkook!” you slapped the tops of his biceps, as he continued his thrusting inside of you, nipping at your jaw, feeling his smirk against your skin.
the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was intense, something you had been craving for so long now and yet now it was happening, you wanted more, and more and more and more and more. he loved this shy game you’d always play, always pretending like you couldn’t take it despite the fact your legs were widening further and you were moaning like a bitch in heat - it turned him on beyond words to know underneath the sweet persona, you were the filthiest slut he had ever known.
his pace was deep, mean but slow and it wasn’t enough, purposefully done to tease you for as long as he could, to ensure you’d stay needy. it was clearly working with the way your moans, whines and gasps filled the air only to be followed with a long drawl of his name, face scrunched up so cute he wanted to fucking scream.
“c’mon, baby, you’re so good to me.” he cooed, continuing his slow thrusts. “just gotta ask if you want something.”
your eyes scrunched shut, whimpering at his words knowing he wanted you in ways that you had reminisced on for months, the feeling of him kissing the gummy part of your cunt something you had missed so much.
“want it properly, kookie.” you begged him, though you couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes flickering down to his neck as he continued his pace. “yeah? tell kookie how you want it.”
your fingers clung to his shoulders as he came down, arms now pressed on either side of your head as he nuzzled your nose with his own, actions too sweet given the sinful position he had you in.
your breathing was ragged, the feel of him inside you too much for your poor little mind to handle without breaking and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. you craved something harsher, meaner, more jungkook. neither of you had ever been ones for soft sex, always preferring it as needy as possible which only heightened considering the fact you were both so utterly obsessive when it came to the other.
you whined loudly as his actions came to a stop completely, now grinding against you whilst still being inside.
“just want you to fuck me properly.” you whimpered, lip quivering so much faster, hips lifting to meet his as a means to relieve yourself.
god. you were killing him.
“good girl.”
jungkook planted a single kiss to your lips, oddly sweet before pulling back, planting two more to your forehead and nose. you were ready to whine once more until you felt his hips pull back, only to thrust into you harshly.
you squealed as jungkook began his pace exactly how you craved it, exactly how you used to picture with your own fingers in your cunt, desperately trying and failing to replicate the feel. hard. fast. mean. rough.
your neighbours would no doubt complain tomorrow with the way your bed frame began pounding into the wall, his head pressed against yours as his thrusts began kissing your cervix. your legs shook around him, much to his enjoyment, all whilst he forced you to maintain eye contact, wanting so badly to see the affect he was having on you after he had been deprived of you for so long.
“fuck..there she is. that’s my girl.” he hissed down at you, not holding back, the sound of skin slapping against skin heavy in the room. “you don’t know how badly i missed you.”
“m-missed..ugh! missed you..too..” you managed to string together, salted tears now escaping your eyes as they streamed on either side of the pillow.
“pretty girl like you needs to be fucked mean. no good to be nice to you, huh?” he growled down at you, only causing your lip to quiver that much faster as you nodded. “can’t think unless it’s me bullying your pussy into an orgasm.”
your nods were paired with soft sobs as he pounded, ruining your soppy core just like you had wanted. you had dreamt of this, dreamt of him, genuinely believing you’d never reach this state of pleasure ever again in your life and yet here he was, coaxing it out of you to remind you that he’d never leave you again.
his thrusts were sloppier than usual, no doubt due to the extensive length between your last fuck but it only had you moaning and crying louder. the thought of the usually composed jeon jungkook a whining mess for you and you alone had you clamping down hard on his cock.
“can’t believe i let you leave me.” he grunted hard at the feel of you getting so tight, gritting his teeth as he pounded you further. “never again. you fucking hear me, y/n? you’re my wife forever.”
“promise?” you sobbed back, arms now wrapping around his neck as you tried to bring him impossibly closer, as though you could in any capacity.
he nipped at your bottom lip, moaning into your mouth at the way you all but begged him to make it a reality.
“gonna take you to the courthouse tomorrow, get you a nice dress and we do..fuck..we do this again, understand?” he closed his eyes the more you whined and whined. “gonna let me put that ring back on your fucking finger, baby?”
you nodded wildly, just as you felt your orgasm build up in your stomach again, whining loudly up at him in a way he recognised immediately. fuck, he had missed this so much - his angel girl, all needy, begging for it even though she could barely take it. he could feel his own coming on fast, causing him to pull his hand down and rub at your clit, hissing at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock harshly.
“c’mon baby. want you to cum on your husband’s cock, hm? gonna get you nice and round like you deserve.” his thrusts only got meaner. “move you back in. fuck this pussy every single day, just like you need.”
your high rushed through you at the exact point his did, your legs wrapping around his waist as a means to keep him inside. you could feel it all through your body, the way it seized up and bucked into him all whilst he continued his thrusts, fucking you through both of your orgasms.
your vision started growing dark, the intensity of it overwhelming as he rode out your highs whilst whispering soft i love you’s in your ear, cradling you to his chest, holding you closer than you’d ever felt him before.
everything after that completely blurred together.
you remembered jungkook taking care of you, tenderness laced into his very being as he held you like you were akin to a porcelain doll - sweet, so soft, so delicate. somewhere between the damp kisses pressed to your skin underneath the bubbling bath he had drawn for you both, to the continuous declarations of love muttered down at you; you realised that this was inevitable. he was inevitable.
there didn’t exist a reality where you both could live without one another - you knew that now.
even after the heartbreak, the divorce, the loneliness and the debilitating grief, you still found yourself exactly where you belonged. your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat soothing you into a dreamlike state which paled in comparison to the reality that was now yours. his love had you wrapped so tightly you knew you’d never live without it again.
you were finally home.
—
this beast of a fic is finally done yay!!! i hope you guys love ex husband jungkook just as much as i do!
tried to make him less yandere in this one and more pathetic yearner lol but i may have slipped here and there 💔
i’d love to hear your thoughts on this - love hearing you guys after a fic drops so i’m excited to see what you all think!!!!
if you wanna help support me pay my disgusting, awful, horrific london rent, my kofi is linked <3
summary: looking for a decent job, you stumbled upon jungkook’s job posting on instagram, what could go wrong?
warnings: playfuldom!jungkook x fem reader, explicit sexual content, clit rubbing, pussy eating, edging, spitting, degradation, dirty talk, multiple positions, detailed smut, jk is very playful in a degrading way, oral sex, camera sex, pussy slapping, choking, praising, usage of slut, cum eating, marking, multiple orgasms, rough sex, crying, overstimulation, fingering, nipple spitting, penetrative sex, creampie.
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“How about being a barista again? There’s a job opening at Moonlit Cafe down the street,” Hari suggested while you sat hunched over your laptop, endlessly browsing through job postings.
You were still a student, graduating next year with bills clawing at your throat. When college started, you wanted independence so badly it ached beneath your skin. An apartment near the university...your own keys, your own groceries and your own life.
Your parents had offered to cover everything without hesitation, gentle and loving as always, but guilt settled heavily in your chest whenever you thought about it. They were already paying your tuition fees. You wanted them to live comfortably too, without worrying about whether their daughter had enough money for rent or food. So you smiled and told them not to worry, drained your savings account for the apartment, and picked up multiple part-time jobs just to prove to yourself that you could survive on your own.
And for a while, you did.
The first two years of college went smoothly enough. You found decent jobs, saved enough money to live comfortably, and even bought yourself a flat-screen TV after months of careful budgeting. Your days blurred into exhausting routines—classes in the morning, shifts at the coffee shop at night, and weekends spent organizing shelves as a bookstore assistant.
You were tired all the time, but it was a satisfying kind of tired. The kind that made you feel accomplished.
Until the coffee shop let you go.
Budget cuts, they said apologetically, avoiding your eyes while handing you the notice. Part-time workers were the first to go.
You still had the bookstore job, but the pay barely stretched far enough to cover groceries, let alone rent, electricity, and university expenses. Asking your parents for help would’ve been easy...too easy—but stubbornness rooted itself deep inside you. There were thousands of job postings online. Surely one of them would take you.
Only they never called back.
Two months had passed, and your savings were bleeding out faster than you could stop them. Every day followed the same suffocating routine: school, assignments, cheap instant dinners, and hours of doom-scrolling through applications until your vision blurred from the brightness of your screen.
You groaned quietly, rubbing your tired eyes before glancing over at Hari, who sat cross-legged beside you on the couch with a milk tea in hand. She had shown up at your apartment earlier carrying takeout bags and your favorite boba, worry written plainly across her face after noticing how little you’d been eating lately.
“I already applied there,” you muttered with a pout, dragging your gaze back to the laptop. “But they want someone full-time.”
Hari sighed dramatically, setting her drink down on the coffee table. “You seriously need to rest. You’ve been staring at that thing for hours.”
Before you could protest, she grabbed your boba and pushed it into your hands. The cold plastic pressed against your palms pleasantly.
“Drink,” she ordered. “And let me do the scrolling before you spiral into another existential crisis.”
A laugh bubbled out of her as she pulled the laptop from your lap, and despite the anxiety twisting endlessly inside your chest, you felt your shoulders loosen just a little.
You pouted lightly, sipping your boba while Hari busied herself with your laptop. Your brows slowly furrowed when you noticed her opening tab after tab with alarming confidence.
“Why are you on Facebook?” you asked with a quiet chuckle, watching her click somewhere else before another page loaded. “And now Twitter? Instagram too?”
Hari rolled her eyes dramatically, her face illuminated by the screen’s pale glow. “Because the jobs on LinkedIn are painfully boring,” she scoffed. “There are tons of part-time job offers on social media. I swear I saw one yesterday.”
She narrowed her eyes at the laptop suspiciously, scrolling with the intensity of a detective solving a murder case.
A laugh escaped you as you leaned against her shoulder, chewing on the tapioca pearls you had missed more than you cared to admit. You’d been saving every spare dollar lately, cutting out small comforts one by one until even buying boba started to feel irresponsible.
“But you don’t even know if those are legit,” you pointed out, tilting your head at her. “The sites I applied to are safer from scams and stuff.”
“I know,” Hari replied instantly. “That’s why we’re looking for jobs with a pay-first policy if it’s online.” She clicked onto another account before adding casually, “And if it’s onsite, we’ll bring a gun in case things go wrong or something.”
You burst out laughing at that, nearly choking on your drink.
“Hari!”
“What?” she laughed too, grinning shamelessly. “I’m just being prepared.”
You shook your head at her usual nonsense, warmth blooming faintly in your chest despite the stress that had been suffocating you for weeks now. Hari always had a way of dragging you out of your own head, even if only for a little while.
The apartment suddenly felt less heavy with her around.
You were honestly relieved that semester break had finally arrived. One whole month without classes, no early morning lectures, no deadlines and no professors piling work onto your shoulders.
But instead of resting like a normal person, you had thrown yourself deeper into job hunting.
Hari hated that.
As your closest friend, she had spent the last week trying to convince you to take a break—to go shopping with the girls, take an out-of-town trip, do literally anything that didn’t involve staring at job applications until three in the morning.
You declined every single invitation.
Your friends understood your situation, but they also thought you were driving yourself insane. Which, honestly...you probably were.
That was exactly why Hari showed up tonight carrying your favorite food and overpriced boba tea, determined to drag you away from your spiral. She kept trying to tempt you into going on a girls’ trip with them, insisting that one weekend away wouldn’t kill you.
But every time you thought about relaxing, all you could picture were your bills piling quietly on the kitchen counter. So instead, you stayed curled up on the couch beside her, stubbornly searching for a job you desperately needed.
Hari was beginning to look almost as desperate as you. Maybe not for herself, but for you—for the way your shoulders had slowly grown heavier these past few months, for the exhaustion permanently shadowing your eyes. She wanted you to land a job already so you could finally breathe again without worrying about rent and unpaid bills swallowing you whole.
Which was exactly why she was now doom-scrolling through Twitter with frightening determination.
“I really don’t think you’re gonna find a job there,” you muttered skeptically, watching her open an alarming amount of random threads. “Most of those look like scams.”
“Wait, wait—look at this!”
Hari suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to the screen, quickly setting her milk tea down beside her like she was preparing for something serious.
Her eyes widened.
“Okay, this one actually looks promising.”
You leaned in slightly as she read aloud.
mnijungkook on ig posted: i’m looking for someone who can take insanely good videos and photos [of me]. i’ll somehow figure out the equipment myself..! please somehow reach out to me! lol, looking for someone to film for me, seriously. and if you’re good at editing too? let’s go on tour together
“There are so many likes and retweets,” Hari said immediately, already opening another tab to search for the original Instagram post. “This has to be legit.”
The second you recognized the username, you nearly choked on your drink.
Laughter burst out of you uncontrollably, your shoulders shaking as you clutched the cup tighter. Hari blinked at you in confusion while your eyes watered from laughing too hard.
“Hari,” you wheezed out, “That’s Jungkook.”
She stared blankly. “Huh? The boss?”
Another laugh escaped you.
Hari genuinely knew almost nothing about K-pop or Korean artists in general, and moments like this always reminded you just how different the two of you were.
Meanwhile, you had once been painfully obsessed.
You used to stay up until dawn watching livestreams, memorizing lyrics, collecting photocards you definitely couldn’t afford, and keeping up with every tiny update posted online. Back then, being a fan felt like a second full-time job.
But life eventually became busier.
School consumed your mornings, work consumed your nights, and somewhere in between surviving deadlines and paying bills, your fangirl phase quietly faded into the background. You still listened to their music almost daily, still smiled whenever one of their songs shuffled into your playlist, but you no longer kept up with every post or appearance the way you once did.
You guessed you had simply grown up.
Even so, seeing Jungkook casually asking for a videographer and editor on Instagram felt surreal enough to make you laugh all over again.
Not updated enough to know that Jungkook was apparently posting job offers on Instagram now. Or that he was even on tour.
“No,” you laughed, shaking your head as you finally calmed down a little. “That’s Jungkook. From BTS. They’re, like… insanely famous, Hari. This is probably some kind of joke or publicity thing.”
Hari’s brows knitted together in confusion before realization slowly dawned across her face. She clicked onto the Instagram profile, eyes widening at the blue verification check and the terrifying number of followers sitting beneath his username.
Nearly thirty million.
“Ohhh, BTS,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Wait—I think I’ve seen him before.” She squinted at one of the photos. “Wasn’t he in a Calvin Klein ad or something?”
You snorted. “Yeah. That’s him.”
Honestly, you expected her to laugh it off after realizing who posted it. Maybe call the idea ridiculous and move on to another job listing.
Instead, Hari clicked onto his Instagram story again with alarming seriousness.
“That means…” she trailed off.
“It’s probably a joke,” you interrupted immediately.
“This is good pay,” she said at the exact same time, eyes practically glittering now.
Before you could stop her, she pressed the reply button beneath the story.
Your lips parted slightly. You genuinely couldn’t tell if she was being serious or completely delusional right now...probably both. But either way, you let her continue typing because there was absolutely no chance Jungkook himself would ever see it.
He probably received thousands of messages every minute. Millions, even.
The thought alone felt ridiculous.
“Whatever,” you muttered with a helpless chuckle, giving up entirely. “I’m heating up the rice bowl.”
Hari waved you off distractedly, already multitasking between your laptop and her phone like this had suddenly become her personal mission.
You shook your head fondly before standing from the couch, grabbing the takeout container she bought earlier. The apartment filled with the quiet hum of the microwave a moment later, warm light spilling across the tiny kitchen while Hari continued aggressively applying for a job that definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent was never going to happen.
-
You woke up to the shrill sound of your alarm, already preparing yourself for another long day of job hunting.
Hari went home late last night after spending an absurd amount of time DMing Jungkook and scrolling through social media for more “opportunities,” as she called them. Somewhere between laughing at ridiculous job listings and sharing takeout on your couch, the two of you ended up watching an old Disney movie to help you relax.
She still tried convincing you to go on the girls’ out-of-town trip. You still refused.
No matter how badly you wanted a break, your priorities were painfully clear right now. You needed stability first. A stable paycheck and a stable life. Then maybe you could afford to breathe.
After showering, you made yourself a decent cup of coffee and opened your laptop with a tired sigh, mentally preparing to send out another batch of applications that probably wouldn’t get answered.
Then your phone buzzed beside you. An Instagram notification lit up the screen.
You snorted softly to yourself. “This must be Jungkook,” you joked under your breath, absentmindedly opening the app.
What the fuck.
Your heart nearly stopped when you saw the message sitting in your inbox. The coffee suddenly tasted bitter in your mouth.
What the actual fuck?
“Hari!” you practically shrieked the second she answered your call. “Fuck! I don’t even edit videos! I only know basic stuff! I can’t even record properly without my hands shaking!”
You paced around your apartment while panicking into the phone, one hand gripping your hair as you reread the messages over and over again in disbelief.
Sometime after you went to the kitchen last night, Hari had apparently taken it upon herself to completely ruin your life.
She sent Jungkook your entire curriculum vitae.
Not only that—she also wrote and attached a full cover letter explaining why he should hire you.
The realization alone nearly made you pass out.
And when you discovered she had changed your insta profile picture into a formal-looking one while you weren’t paying attention?
You almost laughed and cried at the same time.
It genuinely looked like you had desperately prepared for this opportunity your entire life.
Your eyes skimmed through the cover letter again, horror slowly mixing with something embarrassingly emotional. Hari had written your entire backstory in there—about struggling financially, balancing school and work, trying to stay independent despite everything.
And then she started lying. Blatantly.
Apparently, according to Hari, you were “highly skilled in video editing” with “experience in cinematography.”
Cinematography my ass.
“Hehe… well,” Hari giggled shamelessly through the phone, completely unbothered by your spiraling. Noise echoed behind her, voices and music blending together enough for you to realize she was already with the girls on their trip. “You have to fake a few things to get accepted sometimes, right?”
“Ugh, I can’t do this!” you cried dramatically, pacing back and forth around your apartment while gripping your phone tightly. “I literally don’t know anything about filming! And what if he sues me for faking my skills? He’s famous and influential, Hari!”
Your eyes darted back toward your laptop sitting open on the table, Jungkook’s message glowing on the screen like a ticking time bomb ready to ruin your entire life.
Hari only laughed harder through the call.
“Girl, just try!” she said between giggles. “Watch a tutorial on YouTube or something. Besides…” her tone suddenly turned suspiciously persuasive, “It’s really good pay.”
“Hari!” you screamed again, horrified.
“God, I still can’t believe he actually replied to you,” she continued teasingly. “You must’ve impressed him with your amazing cinematography skills.”
You groaned so loudly you nearly scared yourself.
The worst part was that she wasn’t wrong about the pay.
Your eyes had nearly bulged out of your skull when you saw the amount attached to the offer. There were so many zeros that your brain genuinely short-circuited for a moment.
That was exactly why you couldn’t let it go.
Out of everyone who probably replied to his story, Jungkook somehow answered you.
You. The probability alone felt absurd.
Thousands of people would kill for this opportunity right now, and meanwhile you were pacing around your apartment like you were preparing for a court trial instead of a job offer.
At first, the teenage fangirl buried deep inside you nearly exploded from excitement. The situation dragged you back to years ago—staying up until four in the morning streaming music videos, binge-watching funny compilations, memorizing choreography you could never actually dance, spending money you absolutely shouldn’t have spent on albums and photocards.
Back then, BTS had practically consumed your life. But time passed.
Somewhere between work shifts, college deadlines, and trying to survive adulthood, you slowly stopped keeping up with them. You still listened to the music, of course, but you no longer knew where they were, what they were doing, or how much they had changed over the years.
Curiosity eventually got the better of you. So you stalked Jungkook’s Instagram a little.
And oh.
Oh, he had changed.
A full sleeve of tattoos now wrapped around his right arm, dark ink decorating skin that used to be bare. Silver piercings glinted against his face in ways that somehow suited him unfairly well. His frame had broadened too, shoulders stronger, body lean and built with the kind of maturity that made him almost unrecognizable from the boy you remembered.
You were used to soft brown hair, oversized hoodies, black skinny jeans, clean arms, and those wide doe-like eyes that made the entire internet lose their minds.
Now he looked mature, more dangerous somehow.
A man instead of a boy. And annoyingly enough, it looked really good on him.
“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, finally realizing you’d been staring at a motorcycle video he posted for far too long.
You immediately locked your phone and pressed it dramatically against your forehead.
“I cannot fangirl right now or I’m seriously gonna lose it.”
Hari kept telling you to just go for it. “You literally have a whole month off from school,” she argued over the phone while you spiraled for the hundredth time. “This is basically the perfect sideline job.”
Sideline job. As if working for Jungkook of BTS was equivalent to tutoring kids after class.
Your stomach twisted anxiously as you stared at the message again. Every second that passed made you feel like the opportunity was slipping farther away. With the amount of people probably flooding his inbox right now, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t change his mind the moment someone actually qualified replied to him.
Your eyes skimmed over his message again, pulse quickening embarrassingly fast.
mnijungkook: hey, i saw your cv ㅎㅎ you really didn’t have to explain everything, but i’m glad you did. i can tell you’re being genuine about this. even without samples, the way you talked about cinematography/editing made me feel like you actually care about it and pay attention to details. sometimes that matters more to me than someone trying too hard to look “professional”
also i get the whole semester break thing. a month is still enough time to try something fun and see if we work well together
don’t stress too much about equipment either because i barely know what i’m doing there yet lol
for payment, don’t worry. if you end up coming with me, i’ll make sure you’re paid well — probably around $20-30k usd for the month depending on the schedule + travel and hotel covered.
send me your contact info? we can talk more properly :))
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“I am not passionate about cinematography,” you nearly whimpered to yourself, dropping your face into your hands. “To hell with cinematography.”
The amount of lies in Hari’s cover letter was genuinely evil.
And now Jungkook thought you were some hidden creative genius with an artistic eye and a deep love for filmmaking when in reality you barely knew how to stabilize a phone camera.
You felt sick.
But then your eyes drifted back to the payment offer. Twenty to thirty thousand dollars. Travel covered. Hotels covered. Your bank account practically screamed at you to shut up and take the opportunity.
So with trembling fingers and the overwhelming sensation that you were actively ruining your own life, you began typing a reply. A reply that dug your grave even deeper.
You agreed with him...agreed that you were a “good editor.”
You added your contact details while simultaneously praying that YouTube tutorials could somehow transform you into a professional videographer overnight.
Your fingers hovered above the send button before you forced yourself to press it.
You: thank you so much for even considering me :D i really do believe i’m a good editor, especially when it comes to making things feel natural and cinematic instead of overdone.
i’d genuinely love to work for you if you’ll have me. i’m willing to learn fast, adjust to whatever style you want, and work hard during the whole month of my semester break.
my contact details are below, thank you so much!
The message was sent instantly.
You stared at the screen in silence afterward, horror slowly settling into every inch of your body.
Yeah. You were doomed.
-
“Wow, what the hell.” Your eyes widened the second you stepped into the hotel room Jungkook had booked for you.
The past few days had moved so fast it almost gave you whiplash. After you sent your contact details, Jungkook immediately messaged you about schedules, filming dates, locations, and travel arrangements as if hiring strangers from Instagram was a completely normal thing for him to do.
Everything had already been prepared before you could even panic properly.
Your plane ticket? Booked.
Hotel room? Paid for.
Transportation? Arranged.
Food allowance? Included.
All you had to do was pack your bags and somehow learn how to film and edit professionally before embarrassing yourself on an international scale.
Easy.
“I am so spoiled,” you muttered in disbelief, slowly stepping farther into the room. It was huge.
Bigger than huge, honestly. The hotel suite looked almost the size of your apartment back home, warm lighting spilling across polished floors and neatly arranged furniture that looked far too expensive for you to even breathe near.
Then your attention landed on the large table sitting near the windows. And your soul nearly left your body.
Equipment. So much fucking equipment.
Two massive black cameras rested neatly beside a smaller handheld one. There was an iPad, a laptop, tripods, microphones, chargers, lighting equipment, and cables so intimidating they looked like they belonged inside a spaceship instead of a filming setup.
Your luggage slipped from your fingers onto the floor with a dull thud as you walked toward the table cautiously, like the devices might explode if you touched them incorrectly.
Your eyes widened even more.
For the past several days, you have been desperately teaching yourself how to edit videos and film cinematic shots. Watching tutorials until sunrise. Memorizing transitions. Learning random camera terms you barely understood.
But you had been practicing with your phone. Your fucking phone.
Meanwhile these cameras looked expensive enough to pay your rent for the next ten years.
You carefully picked one up with both hands, terrified you’d somehow damage it through sheer incompetence alone.
Honestly, you were still shocked Jungkook never asked for samples of your work.
If he had, your career would’ve ended immediately.
The only thing you could’ve shown him was a mediocre CapCut edit with dramatic black-and-white filters slapped over it to make it look “cinematic.”
You groaned loudly, dropping your forehead against the edge of the table.
“Oh my God,” you whispered into the expensive wood. “I’m actually a fraud.”
You nearly lost balance holding the enormous camera in your hands, quickly tightening your grip before your entire future shattered onto the hotel floor in high definition. “Woah, this is heavy.”
Your eyes stayed locked on the equipment nervously as you adjusted the strap around your wrist, trying your best to look like someone who actually knew what they were doing. Because if Jungkook realized how painfully inexperienced you were, he might personally send you back to your country on the next available flight.
You wouldn’t even blame him. The past few nights had been brutal.
You barely slept at all, surviving almost entirely on instant noodles, caffeine, and pure fear while desperately teaching yourself editing techniques through YouTube tutorials. Your laptop had become an extension of your body at this point, constantly running sample footage you filmed around your apartment just so you could practice transitions, lighting adjustments, stabilization, and color grading.
You even studied Jungkook’s editing style specifically.
The pacing of his vlogs, the soft cinematic filters, the random zoom-ins and the casual, natural feeling of the clips.
You analyzed everything like your life depended on it because technically, your rent kind of did. You were getting paid for this...a ridiculous amount, too.
And there was absolutely no way you could afford getting exposed now.
“Okay…” you muttered slowly while fiddling with the camera settings. “This is kinda… easy?”
You said it more like a question than a statement. Still, you forced yourself to keep going.
You searched up tutorials for the exact camera model, watched setup guides, practiced adjusting focus and lighting, and filmed random clips around the room like an aspiring film student fighting for survival.
At some point, you even started taking artistic shots of your coffee cup near the hotel window. For practice, obviously.
Tomorrow was your first official filming day.
According to the schedule Jungkook emailed you earlier, you’d be accompanying him to a golf activity before the concert. He wanted behind-the-scenes footage for the fans—small moments throughout the day, casual interactions, preparations before performing.
And apparently that was only the beginning. Over the next few days, you’d also be filming soundchecks, backstage moments, errands, workouts, rehearsals, and random snippets of his daily routine while on tour.
Basically, your entire existence now revolves around documenting Jungkook’s life aesthetically.
No pressure.
You used his latest vlog as your main reference while practicing, pausing every few seconds to study angles and editing choices carefully. Honestly, the style itself wasn’t impossible to recreate. It leaned more natural than overly polished, which helped calm your nerves slightly.
The problem was you, you weren’t skilled.
And the more you thought about his expectations, the more your stomach twisted itself into knots.
But backing out wasn’t an option anymore.
So instead of panicking yourself into quitting, you threw every ounce of energy into learning.
Like you were preparing for the Olympics instead of secretly faking your way into being Jungkook’s videographer.
You almost had a heart attack when your phone suddenly buzzed while you were testing the cameras.
The heavy device nearly slipped straight out of your hands as Jungkook’s name flashed across the screen.
Your pulse instantly skyrocketed.
Jungkook: hey, i left all the equipment on the table in your hotel room because i had to leave early for rehearsal. camera batteries are charging already, memory cards are inside the small black case, and i think i accidentally tangled all the wires together so… good luck with that honestly ㅎㅎ
there’s also a pass hanging on the chair for backstage access. don’t lose it or my manager’s gonna kill me lol
take your time checking everything first before we head out tomorrow. and if anything’s confusing just call me :))
You stared at the message for a moment longer than necessary, a smile unconsciously pulling at your lips.
His personality somehow translated perfectly even through text messages alone—easygoing, playful, ridiculously approachable despite being one of the biggest celebrities in the world.
It reminded you exactly why he used to be your ultimate bias years ago. There was something naturally charming about him.
You quickly typed a reply before you could overthink it too much.
You: yes! i am checking them out hehe.. the batteries are currently charging, the cards are safe, and i’m currently fighting for my life trying to untangle these wires hahaha
good luck with rehearsal!! see you tomorrow!
The second you pressed send, immediate regret flooded your body. You stared at your message in horror.
Why did I sound like that?
Your cheeks burned violently as you reread the multiple “hehe’s” and unnecessary laughter typed into the conversation like a teenager texting her crush for the first time.
You physically covered your face with your hands.
“Oh my God,” you groaned into your palms. It wasn’t like you were trying to flirt.
Or maybe… just a little bit.
Which honestly made the situation infinitely worse.
You used to be an incredibly dedicated ARMY once upon a time, and frankly...this entire situation was making your heart malfunction.
Working for Jungkook, texting Jungkook and meeting Jungkook.
It all felt unreal in the most dangerous way possible.
But you forced yourself to set the fangirl part aside before it completely consumed you. You needed to stay professional, calm and composed.
Otherwise, you were genuinely convinced you’d suffer a stroke before filming a single decent piece of content for him.
So instead of spiraling, you spent the entire night practicing.
Testing the cameras, learning the settings...adjusting lighting.
Checking the microphones repeatedly to make sure the audio sounded clean.
You edited random sample clips until your eyes burned from exhaustion, determined to familiarize yourself with the equipment enough to at least fake confidence tomorrow.
And somehow, by pure fear-driven determination alone, morning arrived faster than expected.
You woke up early to practice filming one last time before leaving, moving around the hotel room with nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin. You were oddly dedicated now...almost desperate—to prove that hiring you wasn’t a mistake.
After showering, you dressed carefully in clothes that screamed “professional videographer” despite the fact that you absolutely were not one.
A black long-sleeved polo, dark slacks and black shoes. You even tied your hair back neatly, staring at yourself in the mirror afterward like you were about to infiltrate the FBI instead of filming golf content.
A knock sounded at your hotel door.
“Good day, Ms. Y/N. Are you ready?”
You immediately straightened up before opening it, greeted by one of the bodyguards Jungkook assigned to escort you. His black shades reflected your visibly nervous expression back at you.
“Yes,” you answered quickly, trying to sound more confident than you felt.
Before leaving, you double-checked everything one last time—the batteries, memory cards, laptop, chargers—making sure nothing important was missing before following the bodyguard downstairs.
Outside, a sleek black car waited for you.
Your heartbeat quickened the moment you stepped inside.
You were scheduled to arrive an hour earlier than Jungkook so you could prepare the equipment and set everything up properly before filming started. Which meant you had an entire hour alone to panic in peace.
The ride itself was painfully quiet. Only the soft hum of the air conditioner filled the car while city lights blurred past the tinted windows. Your hands rested stiffly over your bag, fingers nervously tapping against the expensive camera inside while your thoughts spiraled endlessly.
You swallowed hard. “I can do this,” you whispered quietly to yourself.
Though honestly, you sounded unconvinced. The moment the golf course entrance came into view, your stomach twisted so violently you almost gagged.
Oh God. This was actually happening.
The bodyguard escorted you inside shortly after, guiding you toward the smaller private golf area before leaving you alone to prepare your setup.
The silence that followed felt enormous.
You slowly placed the equipment down, inhaling deeply as the morning breeze brushed against your face. The golf course stretched beautifully beneath the early sunlight, calm and expensive and intimidating all at once.
And somewhere in the middle of unpacking tripods with trembling hands, one horrifying realization settled heavily into your chest.
Soon, Jungkook was going to arrive.
You looked around quietly, taking in the golf course while trying to calm the violent beating of your heart.
The place felt tucked away from the rest of the world somehow—small, peaceful, almost unreal in its stillness. Unlike the massive championship courses you usually saw online, this one felt more intimate. The holes were laid out closer together across smooth fairways trimmed so perfectly they looked like green velvet beneath the morning sun.
Small sand bunkers curved around the landscape, soft hills rolling gently beneath clean white flags planted in the distance.
No screaming crowds, no cameras flashing endlessly...just the distant rustling of trees, the muted hum of golf carts somewhere farther away, and every now and then, the satisfying thunk of a golf club striking a ball cleanly through the air.
Though, it would’ve been relaxing if you weren’t moments away from throwing up from anxiety.
Your hands were already sweaty as you unpacked the equipment carefully, trying not to look like you had absolutely no clue what you were doing. You adjusted the camera repeatedly, searching for decent angles while silently thanking every higher power possible that there weren’t many people around.
Only a few locals occupied the course, minding their own business.
Good.
Less witnesses for your downfall.
You became so focused on testing camera movements and practicing steady shots that you completely failed to notice someone approaching behind you.
It wasn’t until you angled the camera upward during practice that your soul nearly exited your body.
Jungkook stood directly in frame, smiling right into the lens. Your heart stopped.
“Hi,” he greeted warmly, amusement flickering across his face as he glanced at the camera in your hands. “Looks like you’re having fun already.”
A black sports bag rested beside your equipment now, meaning he must’ve walked over while you were too busy pretending to be a professional filmmaker to notice.
Your eyes widened instantly. “Oh my God—”
You almost tripped over your own feet while hurriedly lowering the camera, panic rushing through your body all at once.
“I was just, um—checking the angles,” you explained nervously, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward. “Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N.”
You quickly wiped your damp palms against your slacks before offering your hand to him politely.
Up close, he somehow looked even more unreal. Tall, broad-shouldered, with beautiful tattoos curling around his arm, silver piercings catching the sunlight softly whenever he smiled.
And unfortunately for your sanity, he was even more handsome in person. The kind of handsome that made it difficult to think properly when he looked at you for too long.
He chuckled softly before taking your hand in his.
Your brain short-circuited immediately.
Dressed in a fitted white polo shirt and black Nike shorts, a black cap resting low over his dark hair in a way that somehow made him look both ridiculously expensive and effortlessly casual at the same time.
The shirt did absolutely nothing to hide how built he was.
You could see the outline of his muscles beneath the fabric every time he moved, his shoulders broad enough to almost completely block the sunlight from where you stood.
“Hello,” he said warmly, shaking your hand once. “I’m Jungkook. Nice to meet you too.” Your cheeks instantly burned.
Seeing him through a screen was one thing. Seeing him in person felt entirely different.
He was so much more charismatic up close it almost irritated you. His bunny teeth peeked out whenever he smiled, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners while he spoke in that easy, friendly tone that made it impossible not to relax around him.
His entire aura felt bright somehow...and dangerously charming.
You were absolutely screwed.
“I’ll leave the filming techniques up to you,” he continued casually, walking over toward the cooler nearby. “Feel free to film me however you want. No pressure.”
No pressure.
As if your nervous system wasn’t already collapsing in on itself.
He grabbed a cold bottle of water before offering another one toward you naturally, like this entire situation wasn’t surreal at all.
“Thank you,” you answered quickly, taking the bottle before immediately setting it aside again. “Uh—I’ll start filming now!”
You lifted the camera again with almost aggressive determination, eager to gather as much footage as possible. More clips meant more editing options later. More editing options meant a smaller chance of exposing yourself as a complete fraud.
Jungkook raised an amused brow at your sudden seriousness, his gaze briefly traveled over your outfit before returning to your face.
“You sure?” he asked lightly. “You don’t wanna eat first? I still have to stretch and stuff anyway.”
You shook your head immediately. “Nope.”
Your grip tightened around the camera slightly. “I wanna include behind-the-scenes snippets too, so…” you explained, trying your best to sound professional despite your racing heart. “This would actually be good footage.”
The determination in your voice made Jungkook smile again. And for some reason, that tiny look of approval made your stomach flip harder than it should have.
Jungkook chuckled softly. “Alright,” he said easily. “Just tell me if you need specific details or angles.”
Then he walked toward the side of the golf course to begin stretching.
You immediately followed after him with the camera clutched in your hands exactly the way you practiced all night, quickly pressing record before your nerves could stop you.
At first, things seemed to be going surprisingly well. You filmed everything.
His warm-ups were slow, deliberate...like he was already in control of everything around him.
The way he adjusted his gloves with quiet precision. The subtle flex of his arms as he set up his iron, muscles shifting beneath fabric like something effortless and practiced. The clean, confident swing of the club cutting through air before striking the ball with a sharp, satisfying sound. The soft crunch of grass beneath his shoes as he shifted his stance, grounding himself between each shot.
Then the stillness between it all.
Him sitting down beneath the shade, momentarily retreating from the sun. Him lifting a bottle of water to his lips, throat moving as he drank, the back of his hand brushing sweat away from his neck without much thought.
You practically documented his entire existence.
At one point, you even almost followed him toward the restroom before your brain caught up with your body at the last second.
You genuinely thought you were doing an amazing job.
From your perspective, more footage meant more options later during editing. You didn’t want to miss a single moment that could potentially look cinematic or useful.
But from Jungkook’s perspective… It was a little concerning.
At first, he simply watched quietly. He noticed the small mistakes immediately—the way you held the camera too stiffly sometimes, the awkward adjustments of the lens, the shaky transitions between movements.
Still, he tried convincing himself that maybe you were just getting comfortable with the equipment. Maybe you simply needed time.
But as the day continued, realization slowly settled in. Especially when he caught you aggressively zooming into completely unnecessary details before quickly rotating the lens too fast, creating footage that would probably look dizzying when played back.
Beginner.
The word settled into his thoughts almost instantly. You followed him everywhere with unwavering focus, constantly checking the framing, adjusting settings, filming from different angles even when your hands visibly started struggling beneath the camera’s weight.
By the time he returned from the restroom later that afternoon, he paused slightly at the sight of you near the equipment table.
You were rotating your shoulders carefully with a tired grimace, trying to ease the soreness from carrying the camera all day. Sweat clung lightly against your forehead beneath the heat of the sun, and your fingers looked faintly red from gripping the equipment for hours.
Still, the moment you noticed him approaching again, you instinctively reached for the camera.
“I think you have enough footage for today,” Jungkook said quietly before you could pick it up again.
His voice carried something firmer now. Your hands froze mid-motion.
You blinked at him in confusion. “Huh?” you asked, adjusting your grip on the camera. “But you’re not done yet.”
He was still in the middle of playing. There were still shots left, more footage you could take, more angles you could practice.
But instead of continuing, Jungkook simply placed the iron back onto the rack with a quiet sigh.
Something about his body language had changed. Subtle, but noticeable.
The playful brightness from earlier dimmed slightly, exhaustion settling into the slope of his shoulders as he rubbed the back of his neck.
And suddenly, anxiety crept beneath your skin.
Was he disappointed?
The answer was yes. Not angry…but disappointed enough to realize the truth little by little throughout the day.
You don’t have any clue on what you were doing.
The way you handled the camera, the inconsistent framing, the random zoom-ins, the awkward adjustments every few seconds—it was painfully obvious that you were inexperienced.
And for a brief moment, ugly thoughts crossed his mind despite himself.
He trusted you.
Even without polished sample reels or impressive portfolios, he still chose to trust you. Your cover letter had been painfully sincere, especially the part about wanting independence. Wanting to do things on your own so you wouldn’t burden your parents, wanting to make them proud and wanting to stand on your own feet.
A lot of people sent him impressive applications. High-quality edits, cinematic videos and professional portfolios crafted carefully to catch his attention. Thousands of direct messages flooded his account constantly, most of them blending together into meaningless noise after a while.
But yours stood out somehow.
Maybe it was the formal profile picture that made him laugh- looked strangely earnest among the endless stream of unserious messages. Maybe it was the desperation hidden between your carefully written sentences. Or maybe it was simply because your letter resonated with him more than he expected it to.
He understood that kind of desperation.
That overwhelming need to prove yourself to the world.
He had been independent from a young age too, forced to grow up far earlier than most people ever had to. He knew what it felt like to carry pressure so heavy it started shaping the person you became.
But still—
Maybe you lied just to get close to him.
Maybe you wanted the money.
Maybe you were just another person trying to take advantage of him somehow.
God knew he had already met far too many people like that.
But every time those thoughts surfaced, they disappeared almost instantly the second he looked at you again.
Because you were trying so hard.
The determination written across your face all day felt painfully genuine, from the way you followed him around with aching arms to the sweat gathering near your forehead while you forced yourself to keep filming despite your obvious exhaustion.
You looked less like a manipulative opportunist and more like someone desperately trying not to fail.
Still, disappointment lingered quietly beneath his ribs. A dull ache he couldn’t quite shake away no matter how sincere you looked trying to impress him.
And instead of sending you home immediately, another thought slowly crept into his mind.
Something dangerous and mean.
Something dirty enough to make his pulse slow.
He wanted to punish you for it.
Not enough to truly hurt you—never that...but enough to make you understand exactly what happened when you lied to him. Enough to leave you breathless beneath the weight of his attention, overwhelmed by the consequences of trying to fool him so boldly.
Jungkook had always been competitive for a reason.
He hated losing, hated being made a fool of.
And now that you had managed to slip past his guard so easily, there was no way he was letting you walk away untouched by it.
Oh, he was going to have so much fun with you.
“I wanna film something,” he finally said instead, voice quieter now. More serious.
Your breath caught slightly at the sudden change in tone. The warmth from earlier had faded into something calmer.
“Oh,” you answered softly, momentarily caught off guard. “Okay! What kind of content?”
You quickly stood up and began fixing the equipment into your bags, noticing him grab his car keys from beside his sports bag.
“You’ll see,” he said simply, before turning toward the exit.
Your own brows furrowed in confusion. The schedule he sent clearly stated golf content for today.
Still, you followed him quietly anyway. When he told you to ride with him instead of the escort vehicle, your confusion deepened even more, though you didn’t question it aloud. Maybe he wanted driving footage or some cinematic clips for the vlog.
That had to be it.
Your heart thumped nervously as you climbed into his car beside him, immediately noticing how sleek and absurdly expensive the interior looked. The soft scent of fresh mint lingered in the air, clean and comforting somehow.
The realization that you were sitting inside Jungkook’s car with Jungkook himself nearly made your soul leave your body.
Your hands instinctively reached toward the camera bag.
“No,” Jungkook chuckled softly the moment he noticed. “You’re not gonna film here, pretty girl.”
Pretty girl.
Your entire brain stopped functioning. Heat rushed violently into your cheeks as you slowly pulled your hands away from the bag.
“Oh,” you answered weakly. “Okay…”
You bit your lip afterward, turning slightly toward the window to hide your expression while curiosity twisted tighter inside your chest.
Where exactly was he taking you?
The moment you saw the familiar hotel building come into view through the windshield, confusion settled deeper into your chest.
You followed Jungkook quietly through the lobby, nerves buzzing beneath your skin with every step.
He had gone strangely quiet after golf. Still calm, still composed—but not as bright as before. The easy smiles disappeared, replaced by something heavier lingering beneath his expression, and it made your stomach tighten painfully.
“Uhm…” you started carefully while standing beside him inside the elevator. “Are you gonna get a few more cameras or something?”
The elevator doors slid shut. Jungkook glanced at you briefly, his doe eyes half-lidded in a way that made your throat suddenly feel dry.
“Take a guess.”
Your heartbeat stumbled. Something about his tone made nervousness crawl violently through your body. And when the elevator finally opened onto your floor, Jungkook grabbed your wrist without warning.
You gasped softly, he dragged you out impatiently, long strides carrying the two of you quickly down the hallway toward your hotel room. His grip wasn’t painful, but firm enough to make your pulse race uncontrollably beneath your skin.
By the time you stopped in front of your door, your mind was already spiraling. Jungkook looked down at you expectantly, his pupils dilated, still holding your wrist while waiting for you to unlock the room.
Did he figure it out? The thought struck so hard your chest physically tightened.
Your fingers trembled slightly while pulling out the keycard. Guilt flooded your system all at once, thick and suffocating.
You were scared.
Scared he’d yell at you. Scared he’d confiscate the equipment. Scared he’d have you booked on the next flight home before you even had a chance to explain yourself.
Completely unaware of the way his dark, playful mind worked. Completely unaware of how badly he wanted to punish you.
“Jungkook, I—”
But the words died immediately when he walked past you instead.
He took the camera bag from your hands and moved straight toward the table, pulling out the camera you used earlier before checking the rest of the equipment you left behind.
You blinked in confusion. Huh?
Jungkook grabbed another camera calmly before setting up one of the tripods with practiced ease. The way his fingers moved across the equipment was fast and precise, adjusting settings effortlessly while rotating the camera into position like second nature. His shoulders flexed beneath the white polo each time he lifted the tripod, veins bulging faintly along his tattooed forearms while he fixed the lighting behind it.
Your lips parted slightly without meaning to. He looked ridiculously good doing something as simple as setting up cameras.
“W-What are you doing?” you stammered, confused.
Jungkook glanced back at you over his shoulder while tightening something near the tripod head.
“Sit on the bed for me.”
Your stomach flipped violently. “H-Huh? I mean okay,” you answered quietly, swallowing hard before slowly moving toward the bed.
You sat carefully near the edge while watching him continue adjusting the setup.
With one hand alone, Jungkook lifted the heavy tripod effortlessly and positioned it directly in front of the bed, angling the camera downward toward where you sat.
The veins along his arms flexed again beneath the strain.
Your throat went completely dry. The room suddenly felt much smaller than before.
Hotter too.
You watched silently as he grabbed another tripod, this time placing it to the right side of the bed. Both cameras pointed directly at you now. And for some reason, the sight made your heartbeat pound harder than ever before.
He looked through the camera lens carefully, head tilting slightly as he adjusted the angle. “Lay down on the bed.”
Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “What—”
“Lay down.” he commanded sharply.
This time, his tone came out firmer. Leaving absolutely no room for argument.
And somehow, the way he looked at you through the camera lens sent a sharp shiver crawling down your spine.
To your own horror, excitement slowly started mixing with the fear curling inside your stomach.
You almost wanted to slap yourself for it.
You swallowed hard before slowly slipping your shoes off, awkwardly climbing farther onto the bed until your back rested against the headboard.
Every movement suddenly felt painfully self-aware beneath the cameras pointed directly at you.
Jungkook poked the inside of his cheek thoughtfully while studying the frame through the viewfinder, eventually stepping forward again to move the tripod closer.
Before you could shift yourself lower against the mattress, he suddenly walked toward you instead. Your breath hitched the second he crouched down in front of you holding the clip-on microphone.
He leaned in close enough for you to catch the faint scent of mint lingering on him.
“You forgot these earlier,” he said lightly, though there was something mocking beneath the softness of his voice now.
“Oh,” you answered weakly. “Uhm… I was in a rush, so…” Your cheeks burned instantly from embarrassment.
Of course you forgot the microphones!
Jungkook raised a brow slowly. “You were in a rush?” he repeated with a quiet chuckle before standing back up again.
Then he walked toward the table and grabbed the smaller digital camcorder, casually aiming it toward you.
The amount of cameras pointed at you now made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Instinctively, you tried sitting up straighter, but Jungkook stopped you immediately.
“Stay still,” he said calmly. “I wanna test the cameras.”
“Test the cameras?”
“I think you need a little demo, baby.” Your heartbeat stopped. “You weren’t doing a very good job earlier.” The teasing mockery in his tone hit you like a truck.
And suddenly everything crashed down at once. Your eyes widened in horror.
Fuck. He knew.
Heat rushed violently into your face and neck, humiliation crawling across your entire body so intensely it almost hurt. Your chest tightened painfully while tears burned behind your eyes before you could stop them.
You looked away instinctively, shame flooding every inch of you.
God, this was so embarrassing.
“J-Jungkook, please,” you stammered quickly, panic slipping into your voice. “I’m not trying to scam you or anything, it’s just that—”
He stepped closer until his knees brushed against the edge of the bed.
And somehow, that almost satisfied look on his face made your stomach twist even more.
You looked so shy...like a poor little thing unknowingly walking straight into his hands.
His gaze lingered on you with dangerous amusement, as though you had already become his favorite test subject for the cameras.
Dark lazy eyes dragged slowly across your body, taking their time, shamelessly roaming over every inch of you while his imagination sparked vividly to life. You could almost see the thoughts forming behind his eyes—every filthy thing he wanted to do to you, every position he wanted to bend you into, every sound he wanted to force out of your mouth while the cameras kept recording.
And somehow, what excited him even more was the thought of filming it all. Editing it afterward. Watching you fall apart for him frame by frame.
“Shh,” he murmured softly. “It’s okay.”
Your watery eyes lifted toward him immediately. “I’ll teach you how to film, hmm?” he said mockingly.
“W-What?” Your lips parted in disbelief.
Jungkook tilted his head slightly, dark eyes fixed on yours with an unreadable expression.
“Gonna show you the right angles, baby,” he cooed. “What do you think?” He smiled without humor.
The contrast made you shiver. “B-But…”
“Will you cooperate with me?” he asked, voice smooth and almost condescending, like he was speaking to a child. His fingers tapped lightly against one of the cameras beside him. “We wouldn’t want these cameras to go to waste, would we?”
Your throat tightened. Part of you wanted to disappear completely. To book the next flight home, apologize profusely, and somehow repay every expense he wasted on you.
But another part of you—the younger version buried deep inside your chest, the girl who once stayed up all night watching his videos and smiling at her screen—couldn’t let go of this moment.
Because despite everything, Jungkook still hadn’t thrown you out.
He wasn’t yelling at you.
He was giving you another chance.
And maybe that meant you still had an opportunity to prove yourself.
Thousands of people probably wanted your position right now. Yet somehow, he was still here. Patient enough to teach you himself.
Completely unaware of how dangerous that patience actually was.
Because the lessons Jungkook had in mind were nothing like the ones you were expecting.
So slowly, you nodded.
Hope flickered weakly beneath your embarrassment while your thoughts tangled themselves around one desperate need: to impress him somehow.
“Okay,” you whispered nervously. “I—I learn fast when someone’s teaching me and…”
Jungkook raised a thick brow at you. “Pretty girl’s a fast learner, huh?”
Your cheeks immediately reddened again. You nodded shyly despite the obvious teasing in his tone, unconsciously pouting a little from embarrassment.
His eyes went down to your lips, eyes darkening. “Can you count the cameras for me?” he asked a bit impatiently.
You glanced around quickly toward the setup.
The two cameras mounted on tripods.
The camcorder in his hand.
“There’s three,” you answered softly.
Jungkook chuckled under his breath. “Good job, baby.” he slowly lifted the camcorder higher, zooming the lens closer toward your face.
“Now look here.”
You shyly looked into the camera lens, your cheeks dusted with pink beneath the warm lights.
The way Jungkook stared at you through the camcorder made you shrink into yourself slightly, suddenly aware of every little movement you made on the bed.
He tilted his head slowly. “So pretty.”
Your breath caught in your throat. Heat crawled up your neck as you shifted uncomfortably against the mattress, fingers curling slightly into the sheets. The entire situation suddenly felt strangely intimate, and for a second your thoughts drifted somewhere dangerous before you quickly forced yourself to focus again.
This is just a demo! He’s teaching you.
“Open the first few buttons of your top,” he said, voice quieter now as he continued looking at you through the camcorder.
Your eyes widened instantly.
Did I hear that right?
“W-What?” you nearly choked out, pulse quickening embarrassingly fast despite how badly this entire situation could end for you.
And somehow, against all logic, excitement started curling through your stomach.
“Need you to cooperate, baby,” he answered smoothly. “Come on, do a nice show for me.”
The teasing edge in his tone made your stomach twist nervously.
You hesitated for a moment before slowly bringing your shaky fingers toward your top, feeling painfully aware of the cameras pointed at you from different angles.
Jungkook watched carefully through the lens, adjusting the focus ring slightly while observing the framing.
“That’s it.” he encouraged.
You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, fingers trembling as you slowly undid the first few buttons of your blouse. Heat crawled up the back of your neck, burning the tips of your ears as the reality of the situation settled deeper beneath your skin.
He’s filming a sex tape.
You were so fucking stupid because instead of panicking properly, instead of running or completely losing your mind, you were following him blindly. Worse...you were getting excited.
Fuck, you should’ve been crashing out right now.
But the way he looked at you— God.
It felt like he wanted to devour you whole. His dark eyes dragged over every inch of exposed skin with quiet hunger, liquid heat pulsed embarrassingly between the gap of your thighs before you could stop it.
“Open your eyes baby, stare at the camera.” he said firmly, an obvious edge underneath it.
You slowly opened your eyes. Your cheeks were already burning, breath uneven as you finished unbuttoning the last one, revealing just enough of your chest to make your thoughts scatter. The camera lens felt heavier now, more invasive, like it was watching you breathe, waiting for you to make the wrong move.
“Hmm…touch your breasts baby, give it a nice squeeze for me.” he whispered, still holding the camcorder, directing it with the ease of someone who knew exactly what every angle captured.
Completely under his control, you obeyed, your hands moving hesitantly at first before you held yourself through the fabric, giving a light squeeze that made your breath hitch. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to stay steady, trying to keep your eyes locked on the camera like he told you, even as your vision softened at the edges and your body betrayed your focus.
The room felt smaller now. You were getting so wet.
Jungkook let out a low groan, eyes still fixed through the lens.
“Remove your top, wanna see your pretty nipples.”
Your ears burned red at the filthy undertone. With shaky hands, you slowly pulled your top off, revealing the white lace bra beneath. The delicate fabric hugged the soft swell of your breasts perfectly, and the moment Jungkook’s eyes settled on them through the camera lens, another wave of heat rushed through your body.
You slowly tugged at the first strap, then the second, freeing your breasts as your nipples hardened, flushed and sensitive against the cool air.
“That’s it,” he instructed, voice steady. “Roll those pretty nipples for me.”
You obeyed, pinching them gently before rolling them between your fingers. Your lips parted at the rush of sensation that followed, breath catching as your panties got more stickier with your arousal.
When your gaze dropped, you noticed the strain in his black shorts—the obvious tent pressing against the fabric. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization that despite his composed, professional expression as he filmed you, he wasn’t unaffected.
He groaned, zooming in on how you were rolling and pinching your nipples, his cock throbbing at the sight, precum leaking from its mushroom tip.
“Bring your hand to your mouth,” he ordered, directing the camera at your face. “Now, spit on it.”
You whimpered. Like a good girl, you gathered your saliva and spat thickly onto your palms, showing it to him after.
He bit his lower lip, his cock getting so hard from your submissiveness. “Good girl, now rub it on your nipples—make it nice and wet for me,” he rasped.
You rubbed the spit on your breast, the warm, sticky fluid on your nipples feeling so raw and dirty, spreading the saliva messily as he watched you through the lens with hooded eyes.
You were getting so horny, the dirty act turning you on so much that you could feel your panties sticking to your core.
“Look at you,” he chuckled, slowly reaching toward you. “I bet you’re so wet right now.”
You looked so pretty—your neatly done hair now slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed from all the things he’d been instructing you to do, pebbled nipples glistening under the camera lights. Your legs trembled slightly, aching to be touched, your lips parting every now and then as your breath turned uneven, eyes hazy and unfocused.
The sight made Jungkook’s cock throb painfully hard.
His pretty little doll.
He handed you the camcorder. “Hold this, baby. Show them who’s making you this wet.”
With shaky hands and glossy eyes, you took the camera and tried to point it toward him, your eyes rolling back when he removed his white polo shirt and black shorts, leaving him in his gray Calvin Klein boxers.
You whimpered as you could see the outline of his huge cock, precum leaking at the tip, wetting the center of the cloth.
“Your angle is wrong,” he raised a brow, noticing how your shaky hands were failing a bit at holding the camera properly.
You panicked. “I’m sorry,” you rushed out, trying to straighten it, ignoring the painful pulses between your legs—your body begging to be touched.
He chuckled, leaning over you. “It’s okay, baby. That’s why we have another camera.”
His hands came up to your cheeks, gently holding and angling your face to the right so you could look toward the second camera set up by the side of the bed. “I bet you’d look so good getting fucked from that angle,” he whispered.
His grip on your cheeks tightened slightly, squishing them just enough as the camera captured everything—the way your eyes fluttered, the way your nipples hardened under his gaze, the way your legs shifted restlessly, searching for any kind of friction.
You gasped loudly when his free hand went down to cup your pussy through your pants, your eyes rolling back as he felt the wetness through the fabric.
“Fuck, let me see how wet you are, yeah?”
With one hand, he unzipped your pants, pulling them down in one forceful motion while his other hand remained on your cheeks, keeping your gaze fixed on the camera. Your other hand trembled as it tried to capture what he was doing below.
“Capture this, baby,” he breathed, guiding your hand holding the camcorder to angle it downward, towards your wet pussy.
You almost dropped the camera when he suddenly slapped your cunt, your panties nearly see-through from how wet they were with your arousal.
“Jungkook~” you whimpered.
He sat up and held both of your legs, spreading them wider until your ankles were almost on either side of the bed.
“You’re so wet, I can see your cute little slit through your panties baby.” He chuckled, leaning down and hollowing his cheeks to spit right above your clothed clit, making it even messier.
You whimpered, your toes curling at the sensation, gripping the camcorder tightly as you felt him crouch down, spreading his spit over your panties. His warm tongue then licked along your pussy through the fabric, slotting between your folds, the wet material pressing inside your slit.
“Make sure the camera can see how good I’m gonna eat this pussy.” He whispered while looking at you, flipping your panties to the side and groaning when he saw how wet and pink you were, his jaw slackening as he took almost your whole pussy into his warm mouth.
It was so wet and messy, and you could see him through the mini screen of the camcorder, maintaining direct eye contact with the lens while eating you out, making sure to pull back your hood so the camera could capture how his lips would wrapped around your swollen clit.
He suctioned around it, spreading more spit, sucking as if his life depended on it, then moved down to gather your juices before sliding his hot tongue inside you, coaxing more from you. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, showing you how he drank every bit of your wetness.
“That feels so g-good.” You moaned, trying to zoom in on how his tongue played with your folds.
He hummed, the vibrations making you twitch in pleasure.
“Yeah? This feels good?” he asked, sucking harshly on your clit as your eyes rolled back, your release building up fast. Your pussy throbbed, your clit growing more sensitive with every passing second.
“I’m gonna-’’
You moaned loudly when he buried his face deeper, never letting go of your throbbing clit, his head moving from side to side as he groaned low against you. When he finally let go of your clit, you gasped as he gathered a thick amount of saliva, hollowing his cheeks to spit harshly down on you, then leaning back in with his tongue out to spread it in slow, kitten-like licks.
When he looked up again at the lens, you exploded, your orgasm so intense you could feel your pussy pulsating so hard you almost saw stars.
‘’Stop, please!” You whined, overstimulated as he kept licking your cunt, your legs shaking from the oversensitivity.
His chin and nose were soaked, his lips slightly red and pouty, his dark locks messy, and his pupils dilated. You gasped when he suddenly removed his boxers; his cock was hard and pretty, curving slightly upward, decorated with thick veins and a red, swollen mushroom tip.
Jungkook took the camera and angled it towards you, wide glossy eyes looking up at him weakly.
“Say… thank you for making me cum, Jungkook.” He breathed, his other hand gripping his cock as he spread the precum along his shaft.
“Thank you for m-making me cum, Jungkook.” You croaked, your legs still trembling from your intense orgasm.
He smiled proudly. “My smart girl, very good at following instructions,” he praised, placing the camcorder down beside you and angling it so it could capture how his mouth leaned down to suck your nipples, while his free hand squeezed and rolled the other bud between his fingers.
“Jungkook—” you moaned as his tongue twirled and sucked around your breast, just like he had done to your clit—messy and pouty with saliva.
He bit your nipple playfully, earning a soft whimper from you, his tattooed hand reaching down to cup your swollen pussy.
You gasped when he inserted his middle finger, your walls tightening around the intrusion.
“You’re so tight and warm.” He murmured against your nipple, letting it go with a soft pop before moving to suck on the other one.
You whimpered, your pussy growing wetter from the way he sucked and played with your nipples, the pad of his middle finger brushing against your spongy spot, making you writhe in pleasure.
“Please- too much.” You moaned, his middle finger going so deep that his knuckles were hitting your ass, his finger curling in a “come here” motion inside you, rubbing your spot deliciously as your tight hole produced more juices, the feeling of your previous release being pushed inside you making you tremble.
He let go of your nipple and leaned in immediately, pouty lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, messy and demanding, tangling with yours as the kiss deepened and turned overwhelming.
At the same time, his other hand moved up to your throat, fingers wrapping gently around the column of your neck, giving it a light squeeze as he held you in place.
Your lips parted in response, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue deeper, exploring every corner of your mouth, sucking on your tongue and swallowing your whines and protests.
His hard cock pressed against your inner thigh, impossibly close to your wet pussy, grinding lightly as he shifted. You could feel his precum, warm and slick, and the firm pressure of his mushroom tip against your skin made you bite back a shaky breath, a mix of pleasure and nerves twisting together inside you.
Your walls tightened around his finger, making it almost impossible for him to move it from how tightly your pussy gripped him.
He groaned, biting your lip and nudging your thighs wider with his legs, inserting another finger and making you gasp from the mix of pain and pleasure. He swallowed your moans, almost bruising your tongue from the way he was kissing you, the air in your lungs growing limited every time he squeezed your throat.
“Shh, behave for the camera.” he whispered, his thumb caressing your throat while his middle and ring fingers rubbed your spongy spot in slow circles.
Tears fell from your eyes, the overstimulation and edging making you cry from pain. You had already come, but you wanted to cum again so badly, your pussy aching and throbbing for another release, his fingers brushing your g-spot in a teasing, ticklish way, making you shake and move your legs in protest.
“Let me cum again, please, please…” you pleaded, fat tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.
He gripped your throat a little tighter, making you gasp for air. “Aww, you wanna come again?” he cooed.
You nodded desperately, moving your hips to meet his fingers. “Yes, please.”
He chuckled at you. “So polite.” he said, lazily grabbing the camcorder from the side and angling it down towards your spent pussy. “Spread wide, baby.”
You immediately held your ankles, making yourself completely open for him, desperate for release, your body aching from denied pleasure.
He angled the camera at your twitching hole, filming how your wetness dripped down the sheets. He held his hard cock, spitting down onto his shaft and pumping it a few times before angling himself towards your wet cunt.
You gasped loudly when his blunt head entered your hole, biting your lip harshly at the foreign intrusion, the stretch nearly overwhelming you from his swollen mushroom tip alone.
“So big…” you whimpered, holding your ankles tightly as a new wave of tears gathered in your eyes.
Your breath hitched, trembling as you tried to adjust, the sensation stealing every coherent thought from your mind.
Jungkook cursed under his breath, zooming in on your wet cunt to capture how your walls were sucking him in.
“Your pussy looks so good on camera baby, so tight and pretty.” He grunted, pushing halfway in and earning a loud moan from you.
His bangs stuck to his forehead, his lip ring catching the light as he bit down on his lower lip. His broad chest rose and fell heavily, veins tracing along his neck, flushed and taut with effort. Even like this, he held the camera with unnerving steadiness, like nothing about the moment could shake his focus.
So steady and professional at producing sex tapes.
When he bottomed out, you almost fainted, the stretch overwhelming—painful yet intoxicating—as he pressed fully against you. His balls settled deep, his pelvis flush with yours, the soft trim of hair brushing your clit each time he rolled his hips.
He groaned harshly. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his jaw clenching as your walls enveloped him.
“Relax, baby—you’re gripping me,” he groaned weakly, this time angling the camera toward your face.
You whimpered, trying to cover your face with your small hands, but he caught both of your wrists and pinned them above your head. His sudden hard thrusts made your body bounce slightly with every movement, leaving you breathless.
“Don’t be shy, baby—show your pretty face to the camera,” he drawled lazily, angling it towards your flushed expression.
“Show them how good I’m making you feel.” He grunted, rolling his hips against you. The curve of his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly, buried so deep that he barely pulled out at all—only circling his hips, grinding in a way that made it feel like he wanted to push even further. The sensation drew a sharp arch through your back.
His gaze stayed locked on you through the screen, lips parted, breath uneven—like he was caught between control and losing it. The way your pussy gripped him made his cock throb, his expression darkening with something possessive and unspoken.
“Look at you, whimpering like a pretty little slut.” he said in a condescending tone.
“I-I’m not a slut.” You pouted, your walls tightening around him at his degrading tone.
He raised a brow. “Oh really? You think a lot of people won’t agree once I upload this?”
Your eyes widened, panic flashing across your flushed face as his thrusts turned harsher and sloppier, the rhythm giving away how close he was getting. You were almost impressed that he was still managing to keep the camera steady.
“N-No, you are not gonna do that,” you panicked, your eyes wide and glossy, your small hands trying to push the camera away.
He grunted, his cock throbbing as he felt your pussy tighten around him. He shifted just enough to avoid the camera when you reached for it, tightening his grip around both your wrists so you couldn’t move.
“You like that, huh? Come on, pretty—let me film you properly.” He snapped his hips harder, angling the lens toward you while your bodies met in sharp, rhythmic collisions.
The friction made your breath hitch, your clit brushing against his pubic hair in a way that sent jolts of pleasure racing through your body. His grip tightened around the camcorder, breathing uneven as he watched you come apart through the screen, completely drunk on the sounds you were making for him.
“Moan louder.” he commanded.
You moaned loudly, your chest rising and falling as his harsh movements made your body react against him. His eyes rolled back slightly from the way you kept pulsating around him, every drag sending him deeper into overstimulation.
He bit his lip. “My dirty girl, getting fucked on film.” he rasped.
Then, abruptly, he let go of the camcorder and set it aside.
A soft sound escaped him as he pulled out, the sudden emptiness making you whimper. Before you could fully register it, he was already moving you—pulling your body forward and repositioning you in front of him.
He settled behind you, guiding you into place so that you were now facing the cameras on the tripod, your body fully on display while his broad chest and hard cock pressed close from behind.
“You see those two cameras baby?’’ he whispered behind your ear, spreading your legs wide.
“Yes.” you replied weakly.
You gasped loudly when he entered you from behind, your body settling against his lap as his thighs kept your legs spread wide, positioning you so the camera could clearly capture the way he entered you.
“Smile for them baby, need some footage from this angle.’’ He cooed softly, thrusting his hips upward while his other arm circled around your waist to keep you steady.
You moaned, trembling so badly when you saw how the lights caught both of your bodies—the glittering sheen of sweat, your smudged makeup, and his tattooed colored arms all captured in high definition under the harsh glow.
"My pretty pretty girl, should I post this? show them how I fuck?" he murmured against your skin before pressing a kiss to your cheek, his tongue brushing lightly over the dampness left behind by your earlier tears.
The tenderness of it contrasted so badly with the hunger in his voice that it made your breath hitch. His hand cradled your face carefully, thumb stroking beneath your eye as though he was soothing you and provoking you at the same time, and the way he looked at you through half-lidded eyes made heat rush straight to your chest.
He suddenly grabbed the clip-on mic from your necklace, your eyes widening as you realized he was angling it downward—towards where his cock met your pussy.
“Need to test the mic baby, let the viewers hear how much of a nasty slut you are.”
The mic was so close that every sound was picked up clearly—the wet, obscene squelches echoing as he pushed and pulled inside you, the way he dragged against your tight heat sounding even more intense through the recording. The noise alone felt almost sinful in how loud and wet it was.
“I bet they can hear how tight your pussy is.” he grunted, putting the mic closer to your cunt.
He could feel how slick everything had become, wetting his balls each time he pushed, your arousal makes each movement messier.
“Gonna cum, oh gosh.” You moaned, your body growing hypersensitive as your clit throbbed with the pressure of an approaching orgasm.
He grabbed both of your cheeks when he noticed your head starting to fall back from pleasure, forcing you to look straight at the camera in front of you. “Be a good girl and look at the lens, don’t want my content to be bad quality.’’
His other hand clipped the mic back onto your necklace before sliding down again, rubbing slow circles over your clit. You moaned loudly, your back arching as your orgasm edged closer and closer.
“Cum for me baby, show them your cute little juices.”
Your legs were shaking when you finally reached your orgasm, your clit throbbing so intensely, your limbs giving out as your body hit its peak. Your swollen bud pulsed uncontrollably in fast, erratic heart beats, your walls clenching around his cock as he was still thrusting inside you.
Your eyes rolled back into your head when you felt your orgasm stretch further from his deep thrusts, his mushroom tip brushing against your g-spot and dragging you straight into another wave. You came again, consecutively, your body twitching as overstimulation took over, your legs instinctively trying to close.
"J-Jungkook I can't anymore."
Jungkook forced your legs to stay open, his index and middle fingers spreading your pussy lips apart for the camera, showing how your clit pulsed beneath the warm lights while his cock remained buried deep inside you.
''Mhm.. spit on your clit baby, make it extra wet before I use you." he whispered.
You squirmed, obediently leaning down as his fingers kept you spread open. With trembling breaths, you gathered saliva on your tongue before letting it drip down onto your clit, both cameras capturing the filthy sight in sharp detail.
A low curse slipped past Jungkook’s lips at the view, his grip tightening instinctively as he watched you, completely consumed by the way you willingly put yourself on display for him.
He quickly flipped your body down to chase his own pleasure, entering you again and sloppily thrusting into your wet used walls, pushing your cum deeper and deeper inside you. You were so weak, your heart still racing as you weakly reached for the camcorder to film him.
When he saw what you were doing, he groaned harshly, his grip on your hips tightening so hard it bordered on bruising as he held you down.
“My smart girl, you learned well huh?” He praised you, thrusting fast and hard, the camcorder shaking in your grip as you tried to capture his deep strokes.
"Your little brain functioning well with my cock deep inside you.'' he muttered darkly, thumb brushing against your cheek as he watched your expression unravel for him.
“A-Am I doing a good job?” you asked softly, biting your lip as you adjusted the camera to capture his face this time.
He let out a low growl in response, movements losing their rhythm slightly as pleasure started pulling him apart at the edges. “Uh-huh,” he breathed heavily. “You can be my personal little porn star. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
A loud moan escaped you at the thought, heat rushing instantly to your cheeks as you tightened your grip on the camcorder, suddenly far too eager to keep filming him.
“Gonna fuck you anytime I want,” he breathed, dilated eyes locked on you through the lens. “Film it however I like.”
With a harsh final thrust, he came inside you, grunting as he pushed through the last of it, staying buried as he finished, his body still tense with the release. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, warm cum spilling and pooling, some of it leaking out and staining the sheets beneath you while he stayed balls deep.
The camcorder slipped from your grip, forgotten as you breathed heavily beneath him. You were completely spent, still sensitive as his hips gave a few slow, instinctive movements, as if trying to push his cum deeper despite his softening cock.
“Jungkook?” you asked weakly, fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft ruffles of his hair.
“Hmm?” he hummed against your neck, lips pressing lazy kisses there, his cock still buried deep inside you. The red recording lights on the cameras kept blinking steadily in the background.
“A-Are you really gonna post this?” you bit your lip, glancing back at the two large cameras perched on the tripod.
Jungkook let out a quiet chuckle, teeth grazing your skin in a teasing bite. “Mhm. I still need to edit it though.”
“Jungkook!” you squealed, panicking again.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and sharp with need, still carrying that lingering haze of desire. “Do you even know how to edit?” he asked, eyes squinting in playful doubt.
Your eyes widened. “I can edit,” you insisted quickly. “I learned a few things… I kinda know the basics.” Your voice softened at the end, almost uncertain.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he slowly pulled out, earning a shaky breath from you before he reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness.
“Hmm. Okay…” he murmured softly, lifting the camcorder slightly between you. “Edit this video for me, then.”
“What, r-really?” you blinked, surprised that he was letting you work for him.
“Uh-huh,” he said casually. “Then we’ll see if I have to keep you or not.”
You pouted instantly at that, but he was already shifting away from you, looking at the camcorder and checking the footage with the ease of someone far too experienced at this.
The screen’s glow reflected faintly against his handsome face as he replayed a few clips, brows slightly furrowed in concentration. Even now, completely relaxed, he somehow still looked annoyingly professional.
“Okay…” you mumbled softly, a little disappointment slipping into your voice before you could hide it.
He noticed immediately.
A smirk pulled at his lips as he lifted the camcorder slightly, teasing you with it. “Make sure you include your pretty moans, baby,” he drawled. “Or else we’ll have to retake this again.”
He stood up then, completely unbothered, removing the cameras from their tripods like the decision had already been made long before you realized it.
summary: on the side of a sunburnt los angeles road, you with a broken down car meet a man you can't stop thinking about. he's older, composed, impossibly charming, and far too experienced to be looking at you the way he does. you're used to immature love that never knew how to hold you properly. but with him, everything is different.
themes: age gap (reader is 24, namjoon is 33), los angeles in the 2000s, smut, fluff, famous producer x non!celebrity reader, reader doesn't know who he is, confident joon yum, mainly readers pov w/ brief joon's pov, he's whipped, brief texting, tension, established relationship, strangers to lovers, teasing, they go on dates, joon is a gentleman, relationship building, joon is so dom and a lil possessive, nicknames, porn with lots of plot, eventual love confession
warnings: sexual themes, explicit & descriptive smut MINORS DNI 18+ (hard dom! joon, slight age kink & size kink, slightly semi-public sex(?? in his studio :3), unprotected sex, praise/dirty talk, missionary, cowgirl, edging/teasing, fingering, oral f, slight choking if u squint, creampie)
word count: 18k.. whoops
inspired by arirang joon because he's just too fine
♬ ₊˚. street thing - aaliyah
read part 2 here ✧ domestic au, boyfriend namjoon.
it was a late, blazing july afternoon with the kind of california heat that sticks to everything.
your beater car had just given up on you in the worst possible place it could—pulled over on the stretch of a busy road with no shade, just heat shimmering off the black asphalt and distant palm trees that don't feel helpful at all.
you already tried the obvious things. ignition, gas, trying it all again like it might change something.
it never did.
you leaned back against the passenger door of your car letting out a frustrated breath, hair sticking to your neck as you watched cars pass by with the soft sound of your hazards blinking in the background.
of course it's today. of course it's here.
that was when you suddenly heard the low hum of an engine slow down beside you. a sleek, black bmw—expensive, but not loud about it. it pulled in front of your car, and for a second you think the car is just stopping briefly.
that was before the driver door opened.
he steps out like he’s not in a rush to be anywhere else.
tall—noticeably so, he moves towards you easily, like he’s used to taking up space without ever forcing it.
sunglasses sit low on his nose, shielding his eyes, but not enough to hide the way his attention lands exactly on you. his shirt is simple—lightweight, slightly open at the collar, sleeves pushed up just enough to show his forearms. nothing flashy.
but it fits him too well. everything about him does.
dark jeans, clean shoes, watch on his wrist that you can't recognize but can tell is expensive. you notice all of him in the mere seconds he takes to walk over to you, the feeling hitting you all at once.
dear god, he was fine. the kind that made you straighten up a little bit without realizing; running a quick hand through your hair and fixing your jewelry.
he walks toward the front of your car, unhurried, one hand sliding briefly into his pocket before resting against the hood of your car.
up close, it’s worse.
sharper features than you expected. clean, but not overly polished. there’s something slightly worn in about him—like experience and maturity that sits on him well.
“everything alright?” he asks, voice is low and steady.
you blink for a second longer than necessary before responding. why does he look like that... helping me with my car?
"uh-" you stammer before clearing your throat. "it's- it's dead."
"yeah..." he says, eyes examining your car closer. "i can see that."
you nod and suddenly there's a pause, small but noticeable.
he comes around the side of your car, closing the distance between you to look inside of the window. you fumble while taking a few steps back as he looks at your dashboard then back at you, suddenly flustered by his presence.
"you got jumper cables?" he asks.
you simply shook your head.
"didn't think so," he says simply.
he walks back to his car, and you stand there feeling so helpless in the hot sun as he turns his car around to face yours in a swift manner, opening the door casually before coming around to his trunk like he's done this plenty of times.
when he comes back with the cables, he quickly slides his sunglasses in a way you almost miss a glimpse of his whole face.
you assumed it was because of the sun. but little did you know, it wasn't.
because before he walked back to his car, he had looked at you a little too closely. it wasn't some polite, quick glance. it was one that lasted a second too long.
he noticed everything about you.
the way your top fits—not overly revealing, but just enough to catch his attention without trying. the fabric light, slightly clinging from the heat. your skirt—shorter than it probably needed to be, riding just a little higher from the way you shifted against your car door.
his gaze dropped, brief, controlled—then came back up. your legs, your hands, the thin bracelet at your wrist. rings that don’t match perfectly but somehow work. jewelry that feels personal to you.
he takes note of that. of course he does.
then, your face. slightly flush from the heat, skin warm toned and sun-kissed. there's something effortless about you, like you spent more time living in the sun than hiding from it.
your expression—somewhere between annoyed and trying not to be. and your eyes, focused on him, but not softened. not entirely impressed by him, but more appreciative.
and when he closed his trunk, he forgets to look away. so he pulls his sunglasses back over, quick and casual. like it's nothing.
and not because of the sunlight, but because he was looking at you a little too openly. and he knew it.
he arrives at your car and connects everything smoothly, no hesitation and big hands steady. it was unfairly attractive.
“so,” he says, glancing up while he works, “you live out here or just enjoying the scenic breakdown experience?”
a smile pulls at your mouth despite yourself. “neither. i was just trying to get home.”
“mm.” he clicks something into place. “dangerous thing to try in LA.”
that gets a small laugh out of you, softer now and less defensive.
when the car finally sputters back to life, you visibly relax. he steps back, wiping his hands lightly. “there you go."
you should've just said thank you and left. but something in you doesn't act immediately. because now that the problem was gone, the silence between you two felt different now.
“so how do i… repay you?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious.
he tilts his head slightly. "you don’t.” a beat passes. "just don't break down in the worst place possible next time."
you rolled your eyes a little, a smirk tugging at your lips. "no promises."
that earns a small smile from him. he steps back toward his car, then pauses like he’s deciding something.
“i’m—” he starts, then stops himself, like he’s choosing not to introduce himself the usual way. "i’ll see you around.”
"yeah... thank you."
and you watch him get back into his car, driving away and getting lost in the sea of los angeles traffic as you realized two things;
you didn't get his name, and you would likely never see him again.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
one week later
he's just getting off the phone when it happens.
“yeah, send it over tonight,” he says, already half-distracted. “i"ll listen then.”
a pause. “mm. yeah. i got it.” he ends the call before the other person finishes their last sentence.
he slips his phone into his pocket, stepping onto the sidewalk, the afternoon sun hitting just right—warm, a little blinding, the kind of los angeles light that makes everything look softer than it is.
but he's not really paying attention at first.
he's thinking about work. about a track that still isn’t sitting right. about whether he even wants to go to the next session he has lined up.
and then—he sees you.
just down the block, wired headphones plugged into your ears as you walk towards a small coffee shop.
it takes him half a second too long for him to register it. he slows before stopping in his place on the scorching sidewalk just to be sure.
same walk. same unintentional confidence—like you're not trying to be noticed, which somehow makes you stand out more. your outfit catches his attention again without effort. something light, slightly different from the first time he saw you, but still you.
skirt again—of course. not the same one, but same idea.
he notices that. he notices everything.
you push the door open to the shop before disappearing inside. and for a second—he considers just letting you go, letting the roadside interaction stay that way, a one time street kind of thing that didn't need to turn into anything else.
he exhaled quietly before shaking his head, "yeah, no." he changed his direction subtly like he was always going that way.
by the time he reaches the door, he's already composed again. no rush or urgency in him, just the same steady stride he always carried around.
inside the cafe, it’s quieter than the street. low music, soft conversations, and the smell of coffee swirled in the air.
he scans the space once and it doesn't take long for him to find you, standing near the counter, slightly turned away, looking up at the menu like you're stuck deciding between the same two things.
he watches you for a second. not long, but enough. and suddenly, there's that feeling again rising up in his chest.
he steps into line behind you—close enough to matter, not close enough to be obvious. he lets the moment build naturally. of course he does. he lets you stay unaware just a second longer.
then, as you shift your weight and turn slightly back—he steps forward at the exact right time. light contact, your shoulder to his chest. just enough to capture your attention.
"oh, sorry—" you say automatically before looking up. it took a moment for you to process that the same, gorgeous man who jumped your car last week was the one currently blocking your vision.
he tilts his head slightly, like he’s just as surprised. “well,” he says, calm, almost amused, “this is becoming a pattern.”
you blinked. "you... helped me with my car."
"i did," he agrees. "and now apparently i'm following you around LA."
you narrow your eyes slightly. "are you?"
he puts a hand over his chest, mock offended but calm. “i prefer ‘running into you repeatedly by tragic coincidence.’”
that earns a laugh from you, the first real one between you. the barista calls you next in line, and he trails behind you like you're a couple ordering together. his presence alone makes your heart thump against your chest.
the barista takes your order and before you can even unzip your purse to pay, you already see a large hand coming from behind you, inserting a card in the machine.
the barista hands the man behind you the receipt and you turn around abruptly, tilting your head up to fully face him as you both drift away from the register. "i can pay for myself," you said.
"i know," he says simply.
"i was supposed to pay," you corrected as you picked up your freshly made coffee order.
"why?" he asked genuinely, tilting his head to match the angle of yours. it sent a light pink blush up your cheeks.
you look at him like the answer is obvious. "because you jumped my car."
his eyebrows pulled together. "that was like five minutes of my time."
you all but blinked, suddenly at a loss of words under the intense gaze of this mysterious, confident man.
he begins to walk towards a table and you follow him, still protesting under your breath. "that doesn't mean you get to—"
“get to what?” he glances back at you, sunglasses now off, and it’s worse without them in a way—more direct, more readable. more of his perfectly chiseled face exposed to you. “buy you coffee?”
you open your mouth, then close it. because the way he said it made it sound ridiculous to argue.
you both end up choosing a table by the window. endless blue, moving slowly under the late afternoon sun. a few people pass by on bikes, others walking along the sidewalk with iced coffees in hand, like time moves differently here.
not sat too close to him, not too far—just enough space that it could still be casual if either of you decided to pretend it was.
“so, what do you do?” you ask finally, wrapping your hands around the cup.
he leans back slightly in his chair. “music.”
“that’s vague.”
“it's intentional.”
you give him a look. “oh, so you’re mysterious.”
“i’m tired,” he corrects lightly, a smirk of amusement tugging at his lips. “there’s a difference.”
that makes you smile. “what, like a band?” you press.
“no,” he says. “behind the scenes.”
“oh.” you tilt your head. “like a manager?”
he pauses for a moment. "something like that."
it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. you nod like you accept that answer, but the curiosity doesn't go away.
“and you?” he asks.
you almost laugh. “i don’t do music.”
“didn’t say you did.”
“i mean…” you gesture vaguely. “nothing like that. i work. i live on the edge of LA where nothing interesting happens.”
his gaze holds on you a second longer than necessary. "that’s not true,” he says.
you frown slightly. “you don’t even know me.”
“i know you broke down on the side of a road in peak heat and didn’t immediately panic,” he says. “that tells me something.”
"like what?"
"that you're stubborn," he replies calmly.
you lean forward a little, eyes analyzing his expression. "that's not a compliment."
“it can be,” he says. “depends who it’s about.”
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you and him slip into easy conversation—half started stories, simple questions, the kind of conversation that doesn't feel like you're trying too hard.
you're mid-sentence, explaining something about where you live—how everything feels slower out there—when he interrupts you, but gently. “how old are you?”
you pause, caught off guard. “that’s random.”
“it’s relevant,” he says, like that should be obvious.
“to what?”
he lifts his cup slightly, studying you over the rim for a second before answering. “to how seriously i should be taking you.”
your eyebrows lift immediately. “excuse me?”
there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “i’m kidding,” he says, calm, unbothered. “mostly.”
you shake your head, trying not to smile. “twenty four.”
he nods once, like he expected that. “yeah,” he murmurs.
“yeah what?” you press.
“nothing,” he says, setting his cup down. “it makes sense.”
“that’s so annoying,” you say. “you don’t get to say that and not explain.”
“i just did.”
“no, you didn’t.”
he leans back slightly, relaxed, completely comfortable letting you be a little frustrated. “you carry yourself younger at times,” he says. “but not in a bad way.”
you narrow your eyes. “that still feels like an insult.”
“it’s not,” he says, softer now. “it’s honest.”
you look at him for a second longer than you mean to. “okay,” you say quietly. “then how old are you?”
he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he tilts his head slightly, watching you like he’s deciding how much to give. “what do you think?” he asks.
you study him now, more deliberately. he doesn’t look older, not really. no obvious lines, no tiredness. and of course, he looks put together in a way most guys your age aren’t.
“twenty-seven,” you say finally. “maybe twenty-eight.”
he lets out a soft laugh—low, almost under his breath.
you frown immediately. “what?”
“nothing,” he says, shaking his head slightly with amusement.
“no, what?”
“you’re off,” he says.
“by how much?”
he pauses, then shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “enough.”
“that’s not an answer,” you says leaning forward closer now.
“it is,” he replies calmly. “just not one you like.”
you stare at him, half-annoyed, half-curious. “you’re not going to tell me?”
“not yet.”
your eyes narrow. “why?”
he meets your gaze fully this time. “because i want to see if it changes anything for you.”
you lean back slightly, thrown off in a way you don't show completely. “why would it?” you ask.
he shrugs after a small pause. he glances down at your cup. “you drink your coffee too slow, by the way.”
your mouth falls open a little as the moment quickly softens again. “oh my god.”
“just saying.”
“you’re unbelievable.”
“and you’re still here,” he points out lightly.
the conversation drifts again after that, easier now. you talk more without meaning to—little things, fragments of your life. he listens in a way that feels attentive, but not invasive. like he’s not collecting information, just understanding your pace.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you both drift toward the door without really deciding to. the conversation doesn’t end—it just slows, like both of you are aware it has to, eventually.
outside, the afternoon has softened. the heat isn’t as sharp anymore, but it’s still there, hanging in the air between you.
you shift your weight slightly, glancing down the street, then back at him. “this was…” you start, then stop, like you don't want to overdefine it. he watches you, gazed fixed on you patiently.
“unexpected,” you continue on.
he nods once. “yeah.”
“i still owe you,” you say.
he glances down at you. “you don’t.”
“i do.”
“you don’t,” he repeats, softer but final. but after a small beat, “if it makes you feel better, you can get the next one.”
you narrows your eyes. “there’s going to be a next one?”
he paused again, but only for a fraction of a second too long before he shrugged slightly like it was nothing. "if you break down again, i might start thinking it's planned."
you rolled your eyes, but a smile pulled helplessly at your lips. as you stepped out into the light of the sun, you realized two things at once. this man still hadn't told you who he is or his name, and that you somehow already agreed to see him again.
"let me see your phone," he said lowly, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes once again. it wasn't really a question.
and so you reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone, and without asking—he takes your hand gently, turning your palm slightly towards his. the faintest brush of his fingers sent an unexpected warmth up your arm in a way you couldn't ignore.
he picked up your phone that now seemed so small in his hands, typing something quickly before handing your phone back. you looked down at your screen, squinty slightly from the sun.
his name. a number.
joon 213-555-0010
when you look back up at him, he's already watching you—unreadable in a way that sent a pink flush throughout your cheeks.
"joon," you said, like you needed to say his name out loud. like you knew it was just a nickname.
he simply nodded, something small like a smile tugging at his lips from the sound of you hearing his name. "yeah."
he paused, low eyes peering above his sunglasses as he looked at you closely. "you gonna tell me yours?" he asked lowly, the baritone of his voice hitting a little too close.
so you told him, and he repeated it a few times under his breath like he had to let it sink on his tongue. "y/n," he said finally, voice quieter than usual. "pretty name for a pretty girl."
your eyes couldn't help but widely slightly at his bold words, the pink on your face turning into a deep red.
a small pause filled the air before you swallowed, trying your best to lock in your confidence in front of this man. "you didn't ask for my number," you said.
"i know."
"that's a little backwards."
"not really."
you titled your head. "why?"
he took a step back, giving you just a little more space. "because now it's your choice."
you study him for a second, like you're trying to figure out if this is some kind of game. some kind of reality tv show where they prank you with some hot mysterious man. but it didn't feel like one.
"and if i don't text you?" you ask.
a small pause before he shrugged easily. "then i'll assume you didn't want to." but his tone didn't have any pressure or persuasion in it.
"confident," you mutter.
"selective," he corrected.
you almost rolled your eyes—but you don't quite let it happen. he glances past you for a second, like he's remembering that he actually has somewhere to be. then, they quickly averted back to you.
"if you do," he continues, quieter now. "don't over think it."
you let a small laugh. "too late."
that earns a small smile from him, dimples tugging at his cheeks in a way you noticed immediately. "i figured."
another pause before he steps back swiftly, like he's deciding that he couldn't stay any longer than necessary—even if he wanted to. "i'll see you around," he says, for the second time.
before you can respond, he's already turning and stepping away, suddenly gone in the same effortless and casual way he arrived.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
that night, you tell yourself you're not going to think about him.
and you failed immediately.
you failed when you went to dinner with your friends, when you did chores around your house; in the shower and when you laid in your own bed that night—the bed that was supposed to make your thoughts go away. it was the small things at first.
the way he didn’t rush anything. the way he answered questions without really answering them. the way he looked at you like he already understood something you hadn’t said out loud yet.
and as the night continued on, the bigger things settled in your brain, making heat shamefully pool between your legs.
he didn't ask for your number. he didn't try to lock you in. instead, he just left his number with you.
who is he?
your phone sat next to you with the screen dark and off, but it felt louder than anything else in the room. you fell into a cycle of picking it up and putting it back down.
finally, you picked it up again, finding his contact. you flipped it shut, sucking in a sharp breath at the thought of messaging him. you found your thumbs typing, deleting, then typing something again.
you exhale softly, leaning back against your pillow trying your hardest not to overthink it, his voice replaying in the back of your head.
he wasn't some typical guy—you could tell in the way he carried himself. he walked casually, but with assurance. he dressed with stride, but still managed to blend in. he talked with confidence, and every line was coated with experience.
so now, it wasn't just about texting him. it's about what it would mean if you did. because somehow, after one roadside encounter and a cup of coffee—you already wanted more than you should have.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
namjoon's drive back was quiet. not because he wanted it to be—but because nothing else fit how he felt at the moment.
not even any of his music.
he had driven these streets thousands of times. the same turns, the same streets, the same palm trees. usually his mind is somewhere else entirely—work, mixes, deadlines, people who expect things from him.
but not tonight. because tonight, it kept circling back to you.
it all kept replaying in his head—the way you looked at him like you were trying to figure him out. he noticed the way you didn't try too hard. you didn't perform like everyone else in LA.
you didn't know what he is, who he is, or what kind of world he's involved in.
that was the part that was stuck in namjoon's head so deeply. because most people that meet him are already adjusted to him—already well aware, careful with their words and their tones, their intentions.
but you certainly weren't.
because you argued with him. you rolled your eyes and called him annoying. and you meant all of it.
a faint smile pulled at his mouth as he came to a stop at a red light. "twenty-seven," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and laughing slightly.
but still, you didn't hesitate.
he pulls into his place, kills the engine, but doesn’t get out right away. he glances at his phone, sitting in the center console of his car, dark and quiet.
but he doesn't reach for it. because namjoon was a patient man—he always had been. in work, in life, in everything that mattered.
once he gets inside his spacious, sleek home, he dropped his keys on the counter, running a hand through his hair, exhaling.
namjoon had been with plenty of women before. older, younger—in his world and outside of it. he always knows how it goes. he knows how to keep it light and uncomplicated.
but this didn't feel like that. because it felt like something that could get complicated. but instead of pushing it away like he normally would, he leaned into it. just a little.
an hour passes. then two.
namjoon tells himself he's not checking his phone. but it turns out to be a lie, because throughout night—he checks it without picking it up. glancing every time he walks past, like it might light up if he looks long enough. but it doesn't.
he tells himself to relax, that you have a life or that you might not be interested at all. but still—he wonders what you're up to. if you're thinking about him the way he's thinking about you. if you're overanalyzing that moment outside of the coffee shop.
suddenly, his phone buzzed. he doesn't look right away. he just looked at it before reading the unsaved number, no name attached. he picks it up and opens it almost immediately.
unknown: do you always leave girls with this much pressure or am i just special?
he lets out a quiet breath—half a laugh of amusement, half something else. there you finally were, exactly the way he had anticipated. he begins to type before he stops and quickly deletes it.
he leans back against the counter, thinking—not about what to say, but about how much he should give. because namjoon didn't want to rush this. he didn't want to come on too strong.
but he couldn't pretend that he was unaffected either, because he most certainly couldn't even if he wanted to. not with you.
he types again, this time sending it.
him: i was starting to think you wouldn't.
he watches the screen for a second longer than necessary, saving your contact before setting his phone down. it wasn't far, but it was just enough. because now, you know that he was waiting too.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you exhale softy, rolling onto your back with a smile that couldn't help but tug at your lips.
you: oh so you were waiting
a pause settled on the screen before the typing bubble popped up again.
joon: i was curious
you: that sounds like a more mysterious way of saying waiting
joon: you can call it whatever makes you feel better
and now, you definitely smiled at that. because he was already doing that thing again—side stepping without hesitation.
you: you're too difficult to read
joon: you're trying too hard then
you: i think you're just confusing
joon: only for you sweetheart
you actually laugh out loud at that, shaking your head and ignoring the way the nickname made pink tint your cheeks.
you: wow
so is this how you talk to every girl you buy coffee for?
his reply comes faster this time.
joon: i don't buy anyone coffee
you: good answer
joon: an honest one
what are you doing right now?
you glanced around your room like he could somehow see.
you: nothing important
joon: doesn’t sound convincing
you: i could say the same about you
joon: i’m working
you: doing your very mysterious job?
joon: still stuck on that?
you: a little
joon: you'll figure it out eventually
you bit your lip slightly, thinking of an answer.
you: you're very sure i'm going to stick around long enough to figure it out
joon: aren't you?
your heart does that annoying little jump again, and you don't answer right away. and he doesn't send anything else. instead, he waits. three minutes later;
you: maybe
joon: that's a start
another painfully long beat passes before your cellphone vibrates again.
joon: you busy tomorrow night?
you stare at the message, blinking twice to make sure you read it right. but somehow, half of you wasn't surprised. you were practically waiting in a way you couldn't admit. but the other half was incredibly in shock.
you started to type.. deleted it.. then typed again.
you: depends
what are you planning?
joon: something better than coffee
you smiled immediately, even though you tried not to.
you: that's a little confident
joon: doesn't seem like you hate it
you: i don't
joon: good
a pause settled on the screen again.
joon: 8?
you exhaled slowly, the reality creeping in as you stared at the screen. you were really going to go on a date with this man. the same, confident and attractive man that had jumped your car and saved your day. the same man who's age and job you couldn't quite detect.
you: okay
joon: i'll pick you up
don't overthink it
you rolled your eyes, smiling.
you: too late
joon: i know
and just like that, with one text conversation, it definitely was more than just a street thing.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you almost regret saying yes the moment you hear a car pull up outside, engine rumbling lowly outside your apartment window.
not because you didn't want to go, of course. but because now, it's real.
you check yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing the bumps in your hair and coating your lips with gloss one last time. simple, but intentional. something that said you tried... but didn't try too hard.
your phone buzzed.
joon: i'm outside
when you step out, you see the car first. the same sleek and clean car that had pulled over in front of you on that busy highway engulfed in heat.
then him.
leaning slightly agains the driver's side door, towering over the car with his sleeves pushed up, looking like he's only been there for a minute—but completely settled anyway. he wore a costly-looking dress shirt, glimmering chain around his neck and a sparkling watch wrapped around his built arm. you swallowed hard.
his eyes flick up from the ground immediately when he notices you. and for a second, he just looks at you. completely, unashamedly taking you in with his eyes slowly.
"yeah..." he says lowly, dragging his lips ever so quickly along his lips as you approached him, heels clicking beneath you. "you're going to be a problem tonight."
you couldn't ignore the heat that sent down your spine, but you simply peered up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently. "aren't i always?"
"i haven't seen you always," he replied.
you rolled your eyes, but a small smile pulled at your lips anyway. then, he stepped back, opening the door for you. you don't the miss the way he does it without hesitation. and when you sit inside, you don't miss the way his gaze burns into you before closing your door.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the drive was easy, music low in the background, city lights coming to life as the sun started to dip below the horizon.
namjoon doesn't fill every silence—and somehow it makes it easier for you to talk.
"so where are you taking me?" you ask eventually.
"you'll see," he says casually, one hand on the steering wheel while the other rested between you.
"that's not helpful."
"it's not supposed to be."
you shook your head, smiling out the window. he pulls up to a restaurant that sits right by everything—the beach, the water, and the city. it was definitely upscale, but nothing intimidating.
inside, the lighting is warm yet dim, swift music playing and low conversations humming.
you were seated quickly. no waiting or confusion. you didn't quite realize the line of people who were standing for a table, and how you and him were able to breeze right past it.
when you arrive to your seat, it's right in front of the window, city lights and palm trees stretching on the glass in front of you. he pulls your seat out for you, helping you take off your coat and placing it along your chair.
after you place your orders, the conversation flows faster this time. less guarded, and more natural.
"so," he says, leaning back in his chair slightly. "what do you actually do?"
you sigh softly, like you already know the answer isn't impressive, even compared to his incredibly vague one. "i’m a waitress," you say. "nothing exciting."
he watches you for a second. "you keep saying that."
"because it's true."
"or because you think it's supposed to be."
that made you pause. "it's not exactly... impressive," you admitted.
he shrugs lightly. "most things that are don't matter."
you let out a small breath, like you didn’t expect that answer. “you always talk like that?” you ask.
“like what?”
“like you know something i don’t.”
a small smirk pulls at his mouth. “sometimes i do.”
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you and namjoon are laughing a few minutes later—about something small and stupid—and it feels easy. too easy.
the song currently playing comes to an end and the music shifts. a different song comes on—smooth, familiar, something that's even playing everywhere recently.
you perked up immediately. "oh my god, i love this song."
he stills ever so slightly. it's quick and barely noticeable, but there's a flicker of something across his face. he glances down at the table, then back up at you. "yeah?" he asks, casual.
"yeah," you nod, smiling. "it's so good."
he hums in response, leaning back in his seat like it's just background noise. "not bad."
you narrow your eyes slightly. "not bad?"
he shrugs. "it's alright."
you laugh. "you're impossible."
and he doesn't argue. but there's a faint smirk but he doesn't fully hide this time.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the dinner stretches longer than you expected. because neither of you seem to be in a rush to end it.
by the time the check comes, you reach for it instinctively. because at the cafe, he said he would let you get it this time.
but he's faster. of course he is.
"you don't have to—" you start.
"i know."
"that's not fair," you protest.
"it doesn't have to be," he said.
you sigh, but you're already smiling again.
as he hands the card over, the server pauses. "sorry," the server says, almost hesitant. "are you... are you—namjoon—"
namjoon already knows what's coming. he exhales softly, not annoyed at all, just used to it. "yeah," he says with a polite smile. you blinked.
"sorry- i thought so. i didn't want to assume."
he gives a small, reassuring nod.
"do you think i could-" the server gestures awkwardly. "just like, a quick autograph? my brother and i are huge fans."
you completely froze.
fan?
huge?
he doesn't make it a big deal. "yeah, no problem," he says, like it was normal. like this happens all the time. because it does.
he signs something quickly, hands it back with a polite smile.
"thank you—i appreciate it. you two have a great night," the server said before walking off.
silence settled between you for the brief a second. you were completely staring at him now, trying to control your facial expressions as you processed what just happened.
"you didn't tell me that happens to you," you said.
"i didn't think it mattered," he replied casually.
"well," you said slowly. "what exactly do you do?"
there it was. the question he definitely couldn't avoid this time. he leans back slightly, studying your expression. it was curious, but not intimidated or totally impressed. just curious.
"i told you," he said. "music."
you shook your head. "no, you said behind the scenes."
he huffed a small breath, close to a laugh before he paused. "i produce," he said finally. it was simple and direct—no bragging or boasting.
you blink again. "like... that song?"
a beat passes for a small moment before he nods once. "yeah."
and now, the air between you shifted. because now you knew; he wasn't just some guy who stopped to help you on the side of the road.
and somehow, it almost made things worse. because now, you had to figure out why he's here... with you.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the air outside feels cooler than before. or maybe it’s just because of the way everything shifted inside.
namjoon pushes the door open for you, stepping slightly to the side to let you walk out first—but as you pass, his hand settles lightly at the small of your back.
guiding. not grabbing or lingering too long. just there, resting on your back. it's subtle, but you can feel the intention seeping through you, especially in the way it instantly sends a shiver up your back.
your steps slow for half a second—not enough for him to comment on, but enough for you to notice yourself.
but he notices too.
you both walk a few steps in the parking lot in silence. it wasn't awkward, it was just both of you recollecting the entire night—including who he really was.
“so,” you say finally, glancing over at him, tone light like nothing’s changed, “you’re kind of a big deal, namjoon.”
he exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “no.”
“that guy literally asked you for an autograph.”
“that happens sometimes.”
you narrow your eyes. “that’s not normal.”
“it is for me,” he says simply. it wasn't cocky or defensive, just the honest truth. it should've been intimidating. but you didn't let it land that way.
you shrugged slightly. "okay. but that still doesn't mean i'm impressed."
there's a pause before he looks at you—really looks this time. and something shifts in his eyes, subtle but sharper. more interested and intrigued by the young woman standing before him.
"good," he said lowly.
you blinked. "good?"
“i’d be a little concerned if you were.”
your lips press together slightly, trying not to smile. “you’re unbelievable.”
“i’ve been told.”
you both reach his car, but neither of you move to get in right away. he leans back against it slightly, arms relaxed and eyes fixed on you.
you cross your arms again. not closed off, just grounding yourself under his gaze. "so you just... make songs people know?"
"sometimes," he said with a shrug.
"ugh, that's such a non-answer."
his lips fought a smile at your remark. "it's an accurate one."
you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. "you're so annoying."
"but you keep talking to me," he points out.
you finally glance up at him fully, and for a second, the eye contact lingers for a moment too long. it causes you to look away first, pink tinting your cheeks.
and namjoon notices everything.
the way you're holding eye contact a little less now. the way you're slightly more aware of yourself. the way you're trying not to let it change anything. but it doesn’t turn him off—it only pulls him in more.
“you got quiet,” he says.
“i didn’t.”
“you did.”
you look away for a second, then back at him. “i’m just thinking.”
“about?”
you hesitate. “nothing,” you say.
he tilts his head slightly, unconvinced—but he doesn’t push. instead, he steps a little closer. not enough to crowd you, but enough to spark the energy in the space between you even more.
“you’re doing that thing,” he comments quietly, eyes trailing up and down your figure.
your brows knit. “what thing?”
“trying to act like nothing changed.”
your stomach flips—annoyingly and immediate. “because nothing did,” you said.
a pause fills the air. he studies your face, like he’s deciding whether to call it out further. “alright,” he says finally.
you exhale softly. “you’re not going to say anything else?”
“i don’t need to.”
“that’s so—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head.
he watches you, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth now. “say it,” he murmurs.
you look at him, trying not to react to the way his voice dropped slightly. “it’s just… a lot,” you admit.
your answer was too honest for your liking, yet he didn't laugh or dismiss it. "yeah," he said quietly. "it can be."
a beat passed. "but i'm still the same guy you had coffee with," he said softly. and those words land, harder than anything else he's said.
you study him for a second, searching for something—ego, arrogance, anything that would make this easier to categorize.
but you don’t find it. instead, you're only able to find that same calm, steady version of him. the one who stopped his car for you. the one who let you decide whether to text him. the one who didn’t even bother to impress you.
“…okay,” you say finally. and you mean it.
there was a small shift in the air between you, the tension softening— but not totally disappearing.
“so,” he says, pushing off the car slightly, “you still letting me drive you home?”
you raise an eyebrow. “do i have a choice?”
“you always have a choice,” he said. a beat passes. "but i’d prefer if you said yes," he confessed playfully.
you huffs out a quiet laugh. “you’re very subtle.”
“i try.”
and for the second time that night, namjoon opens the passenger door for you. and this time, when you got in, it felt different; reality swirling around you and settling into your head.
the drive back was quieter than the one there. it wasn't awkward or empty—just filled with unspoken words and incredibly thick tension.
his gaze was fixed on the road, but you couldn't ignore the way you caught him glancing over at you multiple times in the corner of your eye. the music is low, humming softly through the speakers before another song comes on.
you glance over at the console, then over at him. "did you make this one too?" you ask, half teasing.
he doesn't look at you right away, a smirk pulling at his lips, leaving a sharp shadow along his jaw. "maybe."
you roll your eyes, fully smiling now. "you're never going to give me a straight answer, are you?"
"not all at once, pretty girl."
there it is again. not just the nickname that sent heat through your spine and in between your legs—but that confident, indirect promise of you sticking around long enough to unlock every thing about him.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you're looking out the window, surrounded by the kind of silence that makes everything feel more noticeable. but you're not really seeing or looking at anything, because you're too aware.
too aware of namjoon. the way he drives—one veiny hand on the wheel, relaxed but precise. the way the scent of his expensive cologne and shampoo made your knees weaken. the way he continues to glance over every now and then, quick, like he’s checking something without making it obvious.
you shift slightly in your seat every time he does.
suddenly, his hand moves from the wheel for just a second—resting briefly against the center console as he adjusts his grip. but through that movement, his large fingers brush lightly against your thigh.
he dragged them ever so softly on your thigh for what felt like forever—but only lasted two seconds—before moving his hand back to the center console. his fingers were barely there, not lingering or deliberate enough to call out. but it wasn't exactly accidental enough to ignore either.
your breath catches for just a second, but he doesn't react or apologize. he doesn't even look at you, and somehow that makes it worse.
you swallow hard, turning your head slightly towards the window again. but now you're even more hyper-aware of the space between you. your heart was doing something very annoying again, and you knew it.
he knew it.
he slows the car as you reach your place, parking smoothly before killing the engine. and just like that, everything went still.
neither of you moved right away. you looked down at your hands, then back up like you were about to say something. but you didn't.
he simply watches you for a second, less teasing in his eyes and more focus. he took in every inch of you, sitting so still and pretty in his car. looking at him like he was still the same guy who jumped your car, not like he was a guy who made every hit song. "you got quiet again," he says softly.
you let out a small breath. "you keep saying that."
"because you keep doing it."
you glance at him. this time, you don't look away immediately. "i'm just thinking."
"dangerous," he murmurs, pulling a small smile from you.
you reach for the door handle. "thanks for dinner," you say, like you're trying to keep it normal.
"yeah," he replies with a soft smile.
you open the door, stepping out thinking that the night is wrapped up. that he'll pull away and let you go. but then, you hear his door open too.
he rounds the front of the car, meeting you halfway up the short path to your door. he took his time not rushing—because he never did.
when you stop in front of your door, you turn to face him. and suddenly, it's close. closer than it's been all night. there wasn't a table, a center console, or any distractions now. just him, towering over you and filling your entire vision with nothing but him. his musky cologne quickly filled your nostrils, throwing your mind off balance.
"you don't have to walk me up," you say quietly, close to a whisper.
"i know," he says. but he doesn't step back.
a long pause fills the air, stretching long enough for the tension to feel intentional. his gaze drops briefly, to your lips—then back up to your eyes.
your breath catches again, softer now. but you were too close for namjoon to not notice it. "are you always this—" you start, then stop.
"this what?" he asks lowly, clenching his jaw ever so slightly at the mere sight of you fumbling with your words in front of him.
you shake your head slightly. "i don't even know."
a faint smile pulls at his mouth. "good." he took another step closer, not enough to trap you, but enough for the warmth of his body to wrap around you.
then, his hand lifts, hesitating for half a second before gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he does it carefully, like he was giving you all the time in the world to pull away. but you didn't.
"you're overthinking again," he murmurs, low eyes scanning every inch of your face.
your voice comes out quieter than you expect. "you keep saying that like it helps."
"it does," he suggests casually.
"how?"
he leans in barely. he doesn't completely close the distance between you, but it was enough to send a bolt of warmth down your body. "because you're still here."
you tilt your head up just a little, before he leans in just a sliver more. and for a second, the moment is right there, sitting heavy in the little distance there was between you.
and then, he stops. just barely, coming to a small still when you could practically feel his breath on you. just enough that it didn't happen.
your eyes flicker across his face, confused, a little breathless. he watches your reaction carefully, low eyes trained onto your every movement.
and suddenly, there's that faint smirk again—but it's softer; barely there and more restrained than usual in a way you almost didn't catch.
"goodnight, doll," he said lowly. "sleep well."
like nothing had almost just happened.
he steps back, ripping the thick air that had just sat between you like a third person. breaking it and leaving you there standing with it.
“you’re—” you start, but you don't even know what to call him.
he tilts his head slightly, licking his lips and averting his gaze down you one last time. “what?”
you exhale half-laugh and half-frustration. “annoying.”
he smiles, dimples pulling at his cheeks. “i know," he says, before turning around and walking back to his car.
from the doorstep, you watch him get in, turn on the engine, and leave. leaving you there with more thoughts than your racing heart could keep up with and a miserable dampness in your panties.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
namjoon's place is quiet again. too quiet.
he tosses his keys down, walks a few steps in, then stops—like his body forgot what he was about to do.
because his mind was entirely somewhere else.
it was still at your door. still immersed into that moment.
he leans back against his kitchen counter, exhaling. he's replaying everything now, like dinner—the way you didn't switch up when you found out what he did. you weren't suddenly impressed or started asking the wrong questions.
you stayed the same. maybe you were a little quieter, a tad bit more aware. but you didn't completely fold.
that absolutely sat under namjoon's skin now. he was completely enamored by you, and didn't want to pull a girl like you into his chaotic world. didn't want you to adjust to him because of who he was, like most people did.
but you didn't. you just took it in, and kept going. you stayed exactly the same—you still called him annoying and told him he wasn't impressive.
he looks at his phone sitting a few feet away. he already gave you control once. he let you decide whether or not to text him, to decide if it was going to go anywhere or not.
but he wasn't going to do that tonight.
him: you always look at people like that or was that just for me?
he sets the phone down, but not far. because you've consumed every inch of his mind again without even trying to. he thinks about the your eyes dropped to his lips, the way you didn't pull away.
his jaw tightened slightly. he knew he was in trouble.
his phone lit up again.
her: like what?
he lets out a quiet breath, a smile pulling at his lips. the way you played it off, like you always did, made him only want more. made him think that maybe he should've kissed you right then and there—should've forgot about being a man and taking his time with you and—
he slowly took in a deep breath through his nose, dragging a hand across his face.
him: like you were about to do something you'd regret
her: don't know if i'd call it regret
namjoon liked that a little too much, licking his lips and leaning back. because now, he knows you felt it too.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
a few days and several text conversations later, namjoon sends you a text on a night he knows you're not working. no question or explanation, just;
joon: be ready at 7
when he picks you up, the air already shifts when you walk outside. it was in the way he looked at you, slow and deliberate, like he wasn't hiding it at all anymore. he takes his time, eyes trailing from your shoes, to the way your skirt falls, the jewelry at your wrist, to your face.
"you always dress like this, doll?" he asks lowly, stepping closer to you.
you raise an eyebrow, ignoring the way the name made your brain feel like mush. "like what?"
"like you knew exactly what you were doing when you picked that."
your lips pressed together slightly, trying not to smile. "maybe i did."
a faint smirk pulled at his lips. "yeah," he agreed. "i think you did."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the driver is longer, along the coast again. his tinted windows are cracked, music low with the sky fading into the darkest blue that only happens by the water.
you and namjoon talk, but it's far from that careful, first date way. the conversation flowed between you easily. you interrupted each other, went off on tangents. doubled back to things you both said earlier. like you both have done this together longer than you actually had.
when you arrive, the place is even more secluded than last time. a quiet overlook with soft lights and the ocean extending endlessly in front of you. the sound of waves clashed below in a way that was steady and grounding.
it felt private, like the rest of the world didn't exist here.
you and namjoon sit closer this time without question. dinner stretches and the conversation flows. you don't even discuss all the big things, but it's the way you talk about the small ones that makes it feel different.
you tell him about what hobbies you have, about your job—how it's routine, how people underestimate it, and how sometimes you feel stuck. and he doesn't brush it off or give you empty encouragement like most people did.
"you're not stuck," he corrected you firmly.
you scoff every is slightly. "that's easy for you to say."
"it's not about me," he replies softly. "you just need to find what you want."
you pout slightly in a way that makes his heart falter. "and you have?"
he pauses for half a second. "yeah." that same confidence remained in his tone, and for a second it felt like he might have been talking about something else.
at some point, his hand settles at the back of your chair. but this time, it stays. it wasn't touching you directly, but it was close enough to make you aware of it. aware of him.
you shift slightly and his slender fingers brush at your shoulders. they rest there for a second longer than necessary before pulling back. his warmth and his actions sent an unbearable heat between your legs.
after dinner, you both step away from the table, walking along the edge of the overlook. the night air is cooler now, ocean breeze slipping through you. you and him walk a little closer than before, shoulders lightly brushing with every few steps.
you wrapped your arms around you slightly, and his jacket is already around your shoulders before you can say anything.
you glance back at him, stopping in your steps to look at him properly. "you know... you're very sure of yourself."
"that bothers you?"
"no," you admit honestly. "it's just—different."
he pauses for a small moment. "from what you're used to?" he asks.
you nod slightly. he studies you for a second. "you're trying to figure out how old i am again."
your eyes widen slightly. "i'm not—"
"you are."
you exhale. "okay, maybe a little."
he lets your confession sit in the air before he nods slightly toward a couple walking past you two—a generation older than you, quieter, and settled. "you think i'm closer to them, or closer to you?" he asks.
you look back at the couple, then back at him. you really look at him, thinking about the way he carries himself. the way he speaks. the way he doesn't rush anything.
your expression shifts. "...okay," you say slowly. "how old are you?"
he pauses for longer than just a few seconds. "thirty-three," he answers finally.
you can't help but blink. once. twice. "...really?"
"yeah."
you study him again, like the answer didn't quite align with what you were seeing. "you don't look thirty-three."
"i know," he answered casually.
"that's kind of unfair," you said playfully.
he smiled softly. "i've heard that."
a quiet beat passes as namjoon watches you carefully, curiously watching your expression.
you shrug slightly. "okay."
he tilts his head. "that's all?"
"what?" you ask. "were you expecting something else?"
"most people... adjust," he stated.
you look at him deeply, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "well i'm not most people."
he steps closer, lightly closing the space between you. his scent filled your head once again, making your breath catch.
"yeah," he said lowly. "i noticed."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
later, when you leave the restaurant together, you don't rush out. you never do.
namjoon walks slightly behind you first as you both headed towards the entrance, one hand finding its way onto the small of your back. it became natural now, something you didn't react to—externally, at least.
his hand was there, guiding you carefully down the steps.
two hostesses near the front glance up. then they glance at namjoon. then to you, then back at him.
a quick look exchanged between them followed by a few whispers and positive smiles. he catches it immediately. of course he does.
namjoon doesn’t look directly at them—he doesn’t acknowledge it—but there’s the faintest change in his expression. then his hand presses just slightly firmer at your back.
a quiet, almost instinctive gesture. not to show off. just to keep you close—and slightly focus the attention on you.
you don't notice the whispers, but you do notice the presence of his hand grow warmer. "what?" you ask, glancing back at him.
"nothing," he says easily.
the lights from the restaurant glowed behind you, the cool night air and a soft breeze coming off the water hitting you all at once.
there's a small set of marble steps leading down towards the parking area. you start down them without thinking—mind entirely captured by namjoon—and suddenly your heel catches slightly.
it's quick—barely a stumble, but it's enough to throw you off balance slightly. his large hands instantly find their way to your waist firmly, tightening his grip and steadying you before you could even process anything.
"careful, baby," he murmurs, low and close. the name slipping out like it had always belonged there.
you freeze for half a second, breath catching slightly before you steady yourself, hand instinctively brushing against his arm.
"I'm fine," you say, a little too quickly, beginning to continue a careful ascend down the steps and ignoring the heat on your cheeks.
namjoon however, doesn't move his hands right away. they linger on your waist a second longer than necessary, making sure you're fully balanced. "i know," he says calmly.
you look up at him, trying to play it off. "you don't have to—"
"i know," he cuts in softly.
and when you reach the bottom of the steps, his hand doesn't leave your back. it stays there, steady, guiding you towards his car like you're already part of his space.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the drive back is quiet, the low vibration of the music and the city lights and palm trees flickering past practically lulling you to sleep.
and namjoon's presence, of course.
his large hand rested on the wheel, the other on the center console. close enough. by the minute, you swear it continues to get closer.
"tell me about him," namjoon says suddenly, the deep baritone of his voice making your thighs press together slightly.
you frown slightly from confusion. "about who?"
"your ex."
it catches you off guard. "...why?"
he shrugs lightly, sharp eyes still on the road. "i'm curious."
you hesitate before sighing. "he was..." you trailed off, trying to find the right word. "lazy."
half a second passed. "immature," you added. "didn't really pay attention to me unless it was convenient."
and as you talk, namjoon's jaw tightens slightly. it's subtle and controlled in a way you don't notice, but it's there.
"he just-" you shook your head slightly, looking out the window. "i don't know. it felt like I was always asking for the bare minimum."
for a long second, silence fills the car. namjoon's fingers tap once against the console. then, they shift. his hand moves unhurriedly, eventually finding its way to rest against your thigh, making a sharp bolt of warmth shoot down your body.
"yeah," he says finally, voice low and rough. "that sounds about right."
you glance at him. "what does that mean?"
he paused for a second. "guys your age," he continues, calm but edged with something sharper now. "they don't know what to do with a woman like you."
your stomach flips in a way that is impossible to ignore. "and you do?" you ask teasingly, trying to keep your tone steady.
his thumb shifts slightly against your thigh slightly. butterflies erupted in your stomach and your thighs shifted in a way you couldn't help, trying to disregard the heat between your legs.
"i wouldn't ignore you," he says simply.
the air in car seems to shift as you swallow hard, glancing out the window before looking back at him. "you barely know me."
"i know enough," he answers.
your breath catches slightly. namjoon's hand stays sat on your thigh steadily, like he knows exactly what it's doing to you.
"and i definitely wouldn't have you asking for anything," he adds. his words land deeper than they should, etching themselves into the back of your mind without asking.
you let out a quiet, almost nervous laugh. "you're very confident."
"i'm honest," he says. he pauses for a moment. then, his voice drops just a little—"big difference."
you look at him again, thoroughly scanning his face this time. "you always talk like that?" you ask.
"only when i mean it."
another silence settles between you, this time sitting thick; heavy with everything both of you haven't said. his hand finally shifts, but not away from you. it only slides higher along your thigh before settling again.
"relax, doll," he murmurs softly, voice low and deep.
you exhale slowly, trying to steady yourself. "you're doing that on purpose."
"doing what?"
you shake your head slightly. "you know exactly what."
a faint smirk pulls at his lips. "yeah," he answers. "i do."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
suddenly, the rest of the drive feels too short.
namjoon pulls to your curb, parking swiftly with one hand before cutting the engine. silence fills the space, neither of you reaching for the door immediately.
you look down at your hands, then back up, like you're about to say something—but the words don't come as easily now. because everything, from the restaurant, the drive is still sitting in between you. his hand, his voice. doll.
"you got quiet again," he says softly.
you let out a small breath. "you make it hard not to."
he stills ever so slightly, like your words had pulled something out of him. "do i?" he asks.
you look at him, holding his intense gaze this time. "yeah."
he pauses for longer than normal, eventually moving his hand before his mouth. he starts slow—not to your thigh this time—but higher. his fingers lift, brushing lightly along your jaw. just the tips, tracing the line like he needed to memorize it.
your breath catches immediately, peering up at him through your eyelashes as you seemingly couldn't look away from his face. he tilts his head slightly, watching your reaction closely.
"you always look like this when you're thinking?" he murmurs.
your voice comes out quieter than you expect. "like what?"
his thumb lingers beneath just beneath your chin for just a second. then it shifts slightly, guiding your face just enough so that you're looking directly at him and nothing else.
"like you're trying to figure out if this is a good idea," he says.
your heart practically stumbles. because he absolutely was right. "and?" you ask quietly.
a small smirk pulls at his mouth. but this one was softer, like it was more certainty than teasing. "i think you already decided," he murmurs. his gaze drops briefly, down to your lips, then back up again. this time, he doesn't even try to hide it.
"you're dangerous, you know that?" you say, barely above a whisper.
he leans in slightly, his scent taking over your lungs. "yeah?"
your breath is uneven now. "yeah."
his gaze drifts again, over your face, slower this time. fully taking you in. "you still thinking about the age thing?" he asks.
"no," you respond, holding the burning eye contact.
he studies you for half a second, like he's deciding if you're telling the truth. then, he exhales quietly, almost amusedly. "yeah," he says. "didn't think you would."
his hand lifts from your chin before resting lightly at your waist, thumb pressing just slightly before easing.
"probably better for you," he adds, voicer lower now, teasing but grounded in something real and deep, "if you didn't get used to someone like me."
your stomach flips instantly. "who says i'm getting used to you?" you shoot back, trying to play it off.
a smile tugs at his lips. "doll," he murmurs, softer and closer, the warmth of his breath hitting your neck. "you're already here."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
a few days later, namjoon sends you an address located in the corner of a private street in LA telling you to meet him there. telling you that he wanted to show you something.
a building tucked slightly off the main road, close enough to the water that the air already feels different when you step out of the car.
you hesitate for a half a second before going in. not nervous, but just a little too aware of what you were walking into. with a few instructed taps on the door buzzer, you were let in.
inside, the hallway light is dim, soft lights lining the walls that were decorated with award cases, album posters, and framed vinyls. the floors were sleek and bass echoed through the walls.
you followed the sound the sound down the hallway, until you find a studio door that's slightly open. the gold plate on it reading, "kim namjoon" then below it, "head executive producer."
you exhale softly, heart slightly stopping at that and swallowing a little too hard before you push it gently, and that's when you see him.
sitting at the main console, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting near the soundboard. one hand adjusting a dial, the other resting against his chin like he's listening too closely.
he was so immersed that he hadn't noticed you yet.
the room was lowly lit—colored LEDS instead of overhead lights, the glow from the equipment reflecting softly against his face.
and there's something about him like this—focused, quiet, and completely in his element—that hits differently, making your stomach twist into a knot.
his sleeves are pushed up again, glistening watch catching the light as he moves his hand. a chain rests below his collar, barely visible, but sparkling in the light.
everything about him is so simple, but it fits him all too well. you don't mean to stare, but you definitely do.
and then, like he felt it—namjoon finally glances up. your eyes immediately meet, and you swear you felt a spark flash through your body.
for a split second, he doesn't say anything. he just looks at you, gaze taking you in deliberately.
then, he licks his lips so lightly you almost don't catch it. "you just going to stand there," he says, voice low and soft. "or are you coming in?"
you blink, snapping out of your trance slightly. "i-i didn't want to interrupt."
"you didn't," he replies easily. but his eyes linger on you for a second longer, almost like he knew you were watching him.
you step inside, softly closing the door behind you. the white lighting from the hallway had disappeared now, fully engulfing you into his world—his studio, his creative space—the place where he made every hit even possible. the big room suddenly felt smaller now, more private.
you look around, taking it all in. the walls are boarded with soundproof panels, and large speakers are placed around the sleek equipment. there's two chairs, a beanbag, and couch with folders of music sheets and lyrics scattered on the floor and on counter tops. "this is... really nice."
"mm," he hums, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs slightly. "it works."
you glance at him. "you say everything like that."
"like what?"
"like it's not a big deal."
a faint smirk. "it's not."
you roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips. he gestures towards the seat next to him. "come here." it wasn't a question.
you walk over, sitting beside him—closer than expected, immediately greeted by his warmth and the musk of his cologne.
he turns towards the console, grabbing a pair of high-end headphones. "listen to this," he says. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before carefully placing them over your head.
music plays—smooth and layered. it had no lyrics, but it was already catchy. you hummed in delight. "it's really good," you said softly, gently taking the headphones off.
"i know," he replies casually.
you laugh. "you're insufferable."
he glances at you, a smirk forming. "you're still here though."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
after a few minutes of namjoon showing you some buttons, he glances at you. "you want to try something?"
you look at him, a bit hesitant. "like what?"
he shifts slightly, turning your chair just enough so that your angled more towards the board. "come on," he says, nodding towards the controls. "i'll show you."
"...i feel like i'm going to mess something up," you say.
"you won't."
"how do you know?"
he leans in slightly, his breath hitting your neck ever so slightly. "because i'm right here."
your stomach flips again. he reaches around you slightly, one hand bracing lightly against the edge of the console near you, the other guiding your hand toward a dial.
“turn this,” he says, voice lower now, near your ear.
you try to focus. you really do. but namjoon is close. too close. his warmth spilling all over you, hitting you in all the places that made your thighs pull closer together.
you turn the dial slowly—and immediately the sound distorts in a ridiculous way. you both pause.
"...was that supposed to happen?" you ask.
he stares at the board for a second before a short laugh escapes him, dimples tugging at his cheeks. "no," he says.
you burst out laughing. "i told you!"
he shakes his head with another laugh, reaching forward to fix it, his arm brushing yours again. "you didn't break it," he says. "relax."
"i definitely did something."
"you did," he replies with a smile. "just not what i said."
you laugh again, softer this time.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you're standing now, not sitting anymore.
because namjoon told you to.
“stand here,” he said, guiding you lightly by the waist until you were in front of the soundboard. no asking, just placing you there. you stiffened under his touch that sent a light shock through you.
"relax, doll," he murmurs behind you. the deep baritone of his voice hitting a little too close.
you exhale slowly, trying to focus on the board in front of you—but it's hard when you can feel him right behind you. he steps in closer, practically pressing you together.
one hand reaches around you, bracing against the console. the other finds yours, fingers sliding over yours, adjusting your grip on one of the controls. "not like that," he says, low. "too quick."
"i'm not doing anything fast," you defend weakly, trying your best to sound steady.
you hear a quiet, almost amused exhale behind you. "yeah?" he murmurs deeply.
his chest brushes lightly against your back as he leans in closer, guiding your hand again—slower this time. "you rush when you're nervous."
"i'm not nervous."
"mm," he hums, unconvinced. his hand tightens slightly over yours, turning the dial with you. the sound shifts, smoother this time. "like that," he says.
but he doesn't move away, not even a little bit. you swallow, your body hyper-aware of every point of contact. his hand over yours, his chest behind you, his voice vibrating your ear. and you definitely tried to ignore something hard resting against your ass.
"you do this with everyone?" you ask.
"no," he answered simply.
at to that, your heart stumbled. his hand left yours, but only came to settle at your waist, firm and steady. in his grip he turned you slightly—not fully, but enough to turn your attention away from the board and onto him. "you're distracted again," he murmured.
you let out a soft breath. "you keep saying that like it's my fault."
a smirk pulls at his lips, one that you can practically hear in his voice. "doll," he says lowly, "you haven't been focused since you walked in."
your stomach flips as you turn your head slightly, giving just enough space to look back at him—but it's a mistake. because he's already looking at you, his face much closer than expected and barely any space left between you now.
"you always get like this?" he asks softly.
"like what?"
his gaze drops slowly, then back up again. "quiet." he pauses. "...when you feel something."
your breath catches. "you act like you know me," you say.
"i do," he replies casually. those words shouldn't hit you as hard as they do, but they do anyway—causing your heart to leap.
he shifts you fully this time, making you fully face him as his large hands still rested at your waist, thumbs pressing in ever so slightly.
"or maybe," he adds, voice quieter now. "you're just not used to someone who pays attention."
your chest rises slowly. "and you do?"
"to you?" he asks quietly, something flickering across his eyes. "of course i do."
a small pause. "i wouldn't ignore you," he mutters in your ear, breath hot down your neck in a way that makes your hairs stand up. his hand tightens slightly against you. "not like they did."
his words land, striking the base of your heart deeply. "and i definitely wouldn't have you guessing where you stand."
your breath is uneven now, but you can't seem to look away. "confident," you murmur.
"experienced," he corrects simply. his voice and his head dips lower just slightly—"difference is...i know how to treat a woman like you properly."
and suddenly the last thread holding you steady is already gone. you exhale softy, almost a laugh, but not quite. "you always talk like this?"
"only when i mean it."
silence fills the space around you, heavy and close. one of his hands lifts from your waist slowly before coming to your jaw and tracing along it deliberately, just like he did before.
his thumb sits at your chin, tilting your face up just slightly. it takes everything in you for your knees to not buckle right then and there, taking in his low, piercing gaze.
"you keep looking at me like that," you whisper.
"like what, hm?" he asks, voice low as he tilts his head lower, leaving little space between your noses. you felt like your whole world was spinning, trying to ground yourself properly without clinging onto him.
"like you're about to do something."
he pauses for a split second, licking his lips while his eyes practically swirled with darkness. then—low and certain—"i am."
and this time, namjoon doesn't stop himself. he leans in, fully closing the last bit of distance between you, crashing his lips onto yours. it's immediate—but not rushed. he kisses you slow, deep, like he's been holding it back for too long and finally had decided he was done.
you respond quickly, completely melting under the contact and moving your lips into his. your breath catches against his, one hand instinctively finding one of his big arms, while the other gripped on his shirt to steady yourself— because it hits you all at once.
the way he pulls you closer against him, one of his hands firmly settled at your waist while the other holds your head possessively, gently tilting your head at an angle that allowed him to kiss you deeper.
you lean into him without thinking—and he feels it, of course. he hooks his fingers around the belt loop of your denim skirt, pulling you even closer. the kiss deepens—but it isn't overwhelming. it's certain, like he wanted to take his time with his lips against yours.
your fingers tightened against him, causing him to exhale quietly against your lips, like he had been waiting for that exact response from you.
when you both pull back, you barely move an inch. foreheads close, breath uneven, and neither of you pulling away. his hands remain at your waist, yours still on him.
and after a second of catching your breath—namjoon leans in again. not because he's testing it anymore, but because he wants it—no, he needs it again. and you seem to meet him there just as fast.
his lips capture yours for the second time that night, practically taking your breath with him. your thighs press together slightly as you kiss him back, your hand sliding higher along his arm, gripping his bicep and pulling him closer without even realizing it.
his grip tightens slightly. "don't start something you can't finish, doll..." he murmurs quietly against your lips, voice rough.
the kiss suddenly shifts, not messy or rushed—but hungry. namjoon's hand slid shamelessly down your waist and onto your ass, sliding up and down its curve like it was already his.
that pulled a gasp out of you, and he saw it as the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. you allow him, opening your mouth more to let him further explore it with his tongue. your lips practically molded together, saliva mixing as he swirled his tongue around yours.
"look at you..." he mutters, barely pulling back, his thumb brushing your jaw again. "so responsive."
your stomach flips more times than you can count. "don't—" you start, breath uneven, but you can't even finish the sentence before you feel dampness between your legs.
"don't what, baby?" he asks lowly, smirking faintly against your lips. "don't notice you?"
he kisses you again before you can answer. his hand slides up from your ass, up your waist to your side—slower and more deliberate, before settling it there again, like he's grounding you there with him.
your grip on him tightens, deepening the kiss without intending to. "doll..." he murmurs, quietly now like it's a warning.
but he doesn't stop, and you most certainly don't want him to. all of a sudden namjoon is moving, guiding you back without breaking the kiss, step by step, until the back of your legs hit the couch.
you exhale softly in surprise—before you're sitting and he is too, pulling you with him. now, you find yourself on his lap—straddled on top of him with his hands firmly gripping your thighs and with everything much closer.
your hands find his broad shoulders, this time holding onto him like you desperately need to steady yourself, leaning into him once more. and namjoon notices, like he always does.
a low exhale leaves him, almost like a quiet laugh. "not pulling away anymore, are you, baby?" he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jaw slowly while his big palms drag up and down your thighs.
his plush lips trace the line of your jaw, littering soft kisses and your head tilts slightly to give him space without even thinking about it. "good," he praises quietly against your skin, lips trailing their way down your neck.
as he presses soft kisses along your neck, one of his hands presses a little firmer into your thigh, keeping you against him as the other rested gently at your neck—not enough to put pressure—but enough for your mind to go blank and make your thighs noticeably shift.
your breath hitches just above him, and his other hand soothes slowly against your thigh to steady you. "you have no idea..." he murmurs, lightly digging his teeth into your skin, making you shudder. "how hard i was trying to take my time with you."
your fingers tighten against him, struggling to ignore the unbearable ache in your core. "then why aren't you?" you manage softly, voice weaker than usual, knowing you didn't want that.
he paused for a moment, the warmth of his breath tingling down your neck and through your spine. his voice comes lower this time, but steadier. "because you stopped me from wanting to."
he pulls back just enough to look at you again, dark and low eyes trailing every inch of your face. his hand comes up, brushing your hair behind your ear slowly, slower than before.
"you're trouble, princess," he says lowly, another nickname rolling off his tongue with ease. "but i like it."
your breath is still uneven, your heart racing faster than your mind—but you don't look away. "good," you murmur.
namjoon's jaw tightens slightly at that—not in frustration, but in complete restraint. what's left of it, at least.
his hand that rested along your neck slid up, tilting your chin upwards with his thumb once again, making sure that you were really looking at him. "you sure about this, doll?" he asks lowly.
you nod without hesitation. "yes."
a small pause fills the thick, small space between you, but his smoldering gaze doesn't leave yours. his gentle hold on your jaw tightens ever so slightly—not to harm you, but to ground you into the moment. "you understand...i'm not the kind of man you forget after this."
your breath catches, but you don't pull back. "i know," you say softly, holding his gaze.
his hands return to your waist, firmer this time, pulling you just slightly closer to him—close enough that space barely existed anymore. "yeah..." he murmured, his thumb tracing lightly along your skin. "then stay with me."
you nearly shuddered from his words, the warmth of his body on yours surrounding you and making your skin tingle. "i will," you nearly whispered, praying that he couldn't feel the dampness between your legs at the thought of never leaving his side.
"good," he grunted in your ear, hot breath spilling down your neck. he pulled back just slightly before closing the space between you once again, tilting your head with his thumb and pulling your lips in with his unhurriedly.
you immediately softened into him as you moved your lips together, your chest immediately becoming flush against his and practically folding underneath his touch. his hands left your waist, finding their grip lower and onto your ass, holding you steadily against him while his tongue explored you once more.
his lips left yours to litter your neck with kisses—sloppy and open-mouthed this time, sucking harder and marking a trail of red marks down to your collarbone. you whimpered with every suck, thighs noticeably shifting against his legs.
namjoon's slender fingers found their way underneath your top, sliding it up slowly—like he was waiting for you to stop him—but you never did. you only complied, lifting your arms up. and in one swift motion, your top was off, and his lips already found themselves on your cleavage.
"so beautiful, baby," he murmured into your skin, tongue lightly lapping against the mark he had just made on top of your breast.
suddenly you felt his big palms on your waist once again before he manhandled you—lifting you up and lying you gently across the couch before his large figure quickly filled your vision and filling up your entire view.
all you could see in the ambient light of his studio was his broad shoulders, his low, piercing eyes, and glimmering chain now hanging in front of your face before he captured your lips again. you practically moaned into it, fingers gripping tightly into his shirt like you needed more.
"fuck," he murmured against you between kisses, intertwining his long fingers with yours, dragging your palm deliberately up his chest. your hands moved before your mind, tugging him closer by his shirt and immediately fumbling with the buttons.
he smirked, large hands moving to help you take it off. once he tossed it somewhere in the room, your hands danced around his body greedily, trailing over his abs, from his chiseled chest and to his swell back.
"should be taking you to my house like a fuckin' man. should fuck you in my bed slow 'n proper. but i've lost my patience with you, doll," he breathed lowly, licking his lips with hunger.
you could only bring yourself to whimper, as namjoon's big palm creeped around your thigh, trailing every so slowly inwards before stopping. your legs couldn't help but twitch helplessly underneath his touch, causing him to let out an amused breath of air.
"but you don't want that, do you?" he asked lowly in your ear, the desire in his voice making your core ache with unbearable need. his hands trailed closer to your heat, dragging his fingers leisurely against your inner thigh.
you shook your head desperately, but that wasn't enough for him. his fingers hooked around your skirt. "wanna hear you use that pretty mouth of yours, baby."
"i—yes—" you blurted breathlessly, struggling to find the words. "i want it—want you. here, joonie. right now."
his cock strained even harder against his pants. "good girl," he muttered before pulling your skirt down. when it was disregarded, namjoon's hands found your thighs again and you suddenly felt his long fingers trace against slowly against your sopping heat barely shielded by your lacy thong, sending a shiver down your entire body.
"wet for me already and i haven't even started with you," he smirked, finally hooking your panties to the side and letting your soaking core be hit by the cold air. your thighs instinctively went to clamp shut, but he quickly stopped them with his big hands.
"so sensitive, doll," he murmured, placing one big thumb just above your clit while the other fingers outlined your inner thigh. "guys your age don't take their time like this, do they?"
you shook your head immediately, whining out before his fingers glided up slowly against your wetness, his index finger swiping in between your folds. his thumb rubbed your clit in a long circle, pulling out a desperate whine out of your mouth.
finally, he pushed one long finger in between your folds, sliding into your hole that sucked him in, your wetness gushing his fingers. you whined loudly as he dragged it along your walls before plunging back in.
namjoon closed the distance between your faces, capturing your lips in with his and sucking on your bottom lip as he inserted another finger, thrusting into you at a steady pace while his thumb remained on your clit.
when he pulled away, it was only to align his face at your entrance. his hand firmly gripped onto your thighs, holding you in place. his fingers slowed inside of you as his nose came close to your core, the warmth of his breath directly hitting your pussy and making you twitch underneath him.
a small smirk pulled at his lips before he poked his tongue out, licking a light, gentle stripe against your folds. "mm, taste so sweet, baby."
you reacted immediately, thighs clenching around his head in a way he enjoyed a bit too much, his free hand wrapping around your leg firmly as he lapped delicately at your entrance.
you moaned his name, legs finally relaxing under his grip as he took his time with soaking your taste on his tongue. namjoon couldn't help but smirk against your folds, his plump lips completely enveloping your pussy into his mouth and sucking your wetness in hungrily.
it wasn't long before you felt his tongue greedily prying through your entrance, crying out in breathless moans. his two fingers stretched open your walls to allow more room for him to explore you with his tongue.
namjoon was absolutely driving you over the edge—his tongue plunged through your tight walls like no other, slender fingers stroking your insides while his thumb massaged your clit vigorously. he ate at you like he had starved for this—your back immediately curving off of the couch as you felt unbearable pressure twine into your stomach.
"that's it, doll," he cooed against your folds, his nose sitting on top of your clit. then, his voice dropped lower—"cum for me."
and so you did—completely letting go as your first orgasm tore through you like lightning. your legs shook around namjoon's head, his free hand rubbing against your thigh gently while his two fingers slowed inside of you. his tongue moved against your folds slowly, taking in every last drop of your release between his lips.
when your body was finally at ease from the state of euphoria he took you to, namjoon trailed kisses from your stomach and up, his hands gently caressing your sides.
"look at you taking me so good," he murmured between kisses, lips on yours now. "think you're ready for my cock, hm, baby?"
you nodded quickly, practically squirming beneath him. "yes joon—need it so bad." your fingers found his belt loop—his large hands finding yours immediately, helping you take off his pants entirely.
it was then when you saw the largest imprint strained tightly against his boxers, making you swallow hard without even realizing. his fingers looped around the hem, taking them off in a swift motion as he stood up.
his cock sprung out in front of you—thick, long, and angry with pre-cum glistening at the end. you sat up straight, jaw slightly slack without even realizing. namjoon's lips fought a smirk as he hovered over you, large shoulders swell and thick member curving up.
his low eyes looked down at you, clouded with darkness. he wrapped his large hand around the thick base of his cock, stroking slightly while taking in the sight of you in front of him.
"fuck," he grunted, "don't got any condoms, baby."
"it's okay, joon," you replied softly.
"you sure, doll?" he asked, tracing his fingers lightly against your jaw, tilting your head to look up at him fully.
you nodded. "wanna feel all of you," you said almost shyly.
"have no clue what you're doing to me," he responded lowly, almost to himself. then namjoon leaned down, grabbing your hips and lifting you up swiftly. you yelped in surprise as he sat down, bringing you back on top of his lap. only this time, you were skin to skin, your arousal miserably smearing onto his legs.
but he didn't seem to care. his large hands rubbed softly down your sides as he licked his lips. "you're so small, baby," he muttered in your ear, his thumb pressing into the side of your hip. "might break you."
"that's okay," you whispered, peering up at him with big, needy eyes.
"yeah?" he asked darkly, like your response had just snapped the last bit of restraint left in him. he held onto your hips firmly as he pulled you up, aligning your entrance with his cock. "gonna ruin you then, baby."
your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders immediately to steady yourself, his fat tip pushing through your folds and breaking into your tight entrance. you moaned out in a mix of pleasure and pain, feeling every inch of his width pushing slowly into your walls as you sunk down fully on his lap.
his grasp on you became tighter as he guided you further down, hissing in pleasure as he split you open widely with his cock. your eyes shut tight as your inner thighs kissed his. slowly, the tip of his member found the back of your walls, your head throwing back from the overwhelming stretch.
namjoon held you against him firmly, allow you to fully adjust to his length before he captured your lips into a kiss. "it's okay, doll," he murmured against you. "you're taking me so well."
after a minute of soft, warm coos in your ear—namjoon began to slide you up and down his vast length slowly with his large hands, emitting a loud whine from your lips. soon, he picked his pace, his cock repeatedly kissing the deepest part of your hole. "good baby... that's it," he praised lowly.
your head was filled with nothing but the thought of you, him, and his fat cock curving up inside of you and exploring your walls. he took you to a pure state of euphoria as he thrusted up in you. his hold was firm on you as he bounced you up and down his cock.
your eyes fluttered at your view, melting under his piercing gaze— his jaw tightened in pleasure and concentration, low eyes scanning your fucked-out expression hungrily. you nearly screamed in pleasure.
"such a good girl for me," he grunted in your ear, one large palm trailing up your sides before resting along your neck. his fingers wrapped around it slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to apply pressure that made your mind dizzy and your pussy clench his member tightly.
his other hand came firmer around your waist before suddenly you were moving—your head being guided back down on the couch while your body was being manhandled by namjoon while he kept his cock buried deep inside of you. one hand settled beside your head while the other remained grazing your throat lightly.
once you both fully adjusted to the new position, namjoon continued to thrust in you, roaming your pussy at an entirely new angle. your wetness gushed around his cock sloppily, filling the room with lewd slapping noises. "you fit around me so well, doll," he muttered breathlessly, breath shooting down your spine as he littered messy kisses along your neck.
his hand traveled from your throat down to your thighs, finding your clit and rubbing it softly. you were a moaning mess beneath him as he fucked you relentlessly now, tip slapping messily against the spongiest part of your walls, making your mind go blank.
his palm found its way around your thigh, lifting it above his shoulder. he closed the distance between you two, cock greedily marking a place inside your hole in a way no one had ever done before as his chest pressed against yours.
he rutted his length inside of you, making your eyes roll back and the couch move back and forth with every movement. "gonna fill you up tonight, doll. gonna make you mine," he murmured. "what do you think, baby?"
you could only moan in response, lost in the feeling of his cock buried so deeply inside of you. "nuh uh," namjoon ticked lowly, his thrusts becoming brutal. "wanna hear that pretty voice of yours, baby."
"mmph—yes~ make me yours, joon," you whined breathlessly.
you cried out—heat coiling unbearably in your stomach, pure bliss clouding your mind as namjoon picked up his pace, feeling your walls hugging him in tightly. "yeah... right where you belong baby," he muttered. "taking me so good like this."
your second orgasm of the night hit you even harder this time—ripping through you like a monstrous ocean wave. he fucked you through your high, your legs shaking violently against him; release spilling all over his cock as you moaned out his name breathlessly.
"that's it, baby," he grunted lowly as he made his final, slower thrusts, burying himself inside you as deep as possible before releasing his hot seed into your walls. "come on my dick, pretty girl."
your vision was practically filled with stars as your body became limp under his grasp. he milked his cock deep in your walls before he pulled out with a sharp hiss, laying down beside you—lengthy body half on the couch and half off of it.
you both laid there next to each other breathless, chests moving up and down in sync as you processed what had just happened.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
suddenly, the studio is quiet again.
it wasn't completely silent—just the low hum of equipment filling the room with one of his tracks still looping quietly in the background.
clothes half-on, curled against him on the couch with his large arm around your waist, holding you close against his chest like he had no intention of letting you drift away.
for awhile, neither of you say anything. namjoon's fingers moved slowly against your side, absentmindedly tracing soft patterns into your skin. the movement only grounded you into him more.
then finally, a low exhale left namjoon's lips. "c'mere," he murmurs softly, even though you were already pressed against him. his big hands slid higher along your back, pulling you in even closer anyway until your head was resting properly against his chest.
it only made your cheeks flush a bright red—the moment feeling possessive in a way that was ever so gentle. like he just needed to make sure you were still there. now, you can hear his heartbeat. it thumps steadily now against his large chest.
"you okay?" he asks quietly.
you nod against him. "yeah," you reply softly.
then his lips brush lightly against the top of your head, placing a soft kiss that lingers. "good," he murmurs.
something about the way he said it made warmth spread through your chest again. his hand settles at your waist once more, thumb brushing lightly beneath the fabric of your top. "you still overthinking?" he asks after a minute.
you let out a small laugh against his chest. "maybe a little."
a quiet hum leaves him. "don't."
you tilt your head slightly to look at him. his expression is softer now. his gaze still intense—because he always looks intense when looking at you—but softer. "you regret it?" he asks gently.
you shook your head immediately. "no," you replied, meaning it with everything in your chest.
at your words, something in namjoon's expressions shifts. it wasn't surprise, it was only something deeper. his hand moves to your jaw, thumb brushing slowly along your cheek.
"good," he says again, quieter this time. then, like his confidence had just made a return—"would've been a problem if you did."
you laugh softly, cheeks warming again. "you're crazy, joon."
"for you?" he murmurs. "starting to think maybe."
your stomach flips all over again. namjoon studies you for a second, gaze moving slowly across your face like he's memorizing it. like he still can't believe that you're here. with him, and in his arms.
his hand slides along your thigh gently. this time, it isn't teasing. instead, it feels familiar and warm. "come back to my place," he says quietly.
you hesitate for maybe half a second, but only because your heart is racing faster than your mind. his thumb brushes lightly against your leg. "you don't have to leave, doll," he murmurs.
"you sure?" you ask quietly. because in your past, once guys were done, they were done with your presence for the night—or even forever.
"of course," he says. then, a faint smile touches his mouth, voice dropping a little. "i'm not doing being around you."
and it only seemed that you weren't exactly done being around him either.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
two months later, being with namjoon feels easy. and it wasn't because he was simple. it was the exact opposite.
he's still intense, but still composed. he still walks through every room like he owns it without needing attention from anyone in it. but with you? he's soft in all the places it matters.
namjoon becomes part of your life so naturally it almost scares you sometimes.
mornings tangled up in his expensive sheets while sunlight pours through the massive windows of his house that overlooks the city. his large hand resting on your waist while he scrolls through emails lazily with the other. his bright smile on display every time he made you laugh or blush.
in his free time, he'd show up to your work with your favorite dinner meal. sometimes, he'd sit at a table in your section and order food just to be able to talk to you any chance you'd get.
afternoons where he pulls you into his lap while he's working on music. he'd barely let you sit more than a foot away from him before he was already touching you again somehow.
his fingers through your hair, your legs draped over his. his mouth against your temple when he quietly tells someone important over the phone that he'll "call back later."
and of course, he spoils you constantly. it wasn't in a loud way either. it was more like taking care of you and putting a smile on your face had just become his instinct.
he buys you things you casually mention liking once. he leaves designer bags on the bed like it's nothing. he'd get annoyed when you'd check price tags. he would sneakily place things in your basket at sephora as he trailed behind you, filling it up with everything you simply picked up and looked at.
you even tried to avoid going shopping with him sometimes because you never happened to pay for anything again.
"doll," he murmured one night, pulling your back against his chest, wrapping his large arms around you while you stared at a pair of brand new, christian louboutin red bottoms that he bought you. "if you like them, they're yours. stop thinking so hard."
and god, he hated it when you worked too much. he hated it even more when work stressed you out.
"you should call out," he tells you one morning, voice rough from sleep while you're leaving his bed for work.
you laugh softly. "some of us have to work, joonie."
his buff arms loop around your waist, pulling you back into the mattress effortlessly. "i know," he murmurs against your neck, nuzzling his nose into your warmth. "that's the problem."
eventually, namjoon starts saying it more seriously.
"quit," he says.
you look at him like he's insane every time. "be serious, joon."
"i am serious."
his hands slide along your thighs as you stand between his knees while he sits at the edge of the bed, looking up at you with that same, calm certainty he’s always had.
“i’ll give you whatever you need,” he says simply. “why are you stressing yourself out when you don’t have to?”
and the craziest part of it all to you, was that he meant it entirely. it wasn't because he wanted control—it was because taking care of you pulled at his dimples and his heart more than anything else ever had.
somewhere along the way, you became each other's favorite part of life. people notice too and eventually, the internet catches on.
a photo of you two start surfacing of you leaving restaurant in west hollywood, his hand firm at the small of your back. then, photos of him opening the door for you. and photos of him looking at you instead of the camera.
one set of paparazzi pictures blow up incredibly fast—you climbing into his car while he stands beside you in sunglasses and all black. one hand casually resting against the roof above your head, the other firm on your thigh as you settled into the seat.
neither of you comment on it, not publicly at least. but namjoon doesn't hide you either. because if anything—he loved being seen with you.
you noticed it in the small moments. the way his hand settled on your thigh more confidently when people recognized him on a date. the way he pulled you closer when cameras appeared. the way he looks almost amused by attention instead of irritated.
it was like he was always thinking, yeah, she's with me.
namjoon flexed you more than the music plaques on his wall or the collection of sleek cars in his driveway.
because throughout his entire career, no success, no hit record, or no amount of money—had ever made him look at proud as you do sitting beside him.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
4 months later~
the city outside namjoon's windows is glowing gold and white beneath the dark sky, soft music playing quietly somewhere in his giant house.
you're curled against him on the couch in one of his hoodies. legs across his lap while he scrolls lazily through something on his phone with one hand resting absentmindedly along your thighs.
you both had been like this all evening. quiet and comfortable; surrounded by the kind of silence that only exists when two people know everything about each other completely.
honestly, it could scare you a little. because somewhere along these four months, you and namjoon had stopped feeling temporary. it stopped feeling like some kind of whirlwind or fling.
instead, it just started feeling right. it just felt like you and him and nothing else completely belonged.
you looked over at him. observed the sharp line of his jaw that was softened by the warm lighting. the expensive watch sitting around his wrist. the reading glasses he only wore at home that sat low on his nose while he checked emails.
the realization hit you about a month ago so hard and your chest had felt tight ever since. you were completely, undeniably, and utterly in love with him. but now, you couldn't seem to hold it in anymore.
"you're staring again."
your heart jumps slightly. namjoon doesn't even look up from his phone when he says it. you roll your eyes. "you're obsessed with yourself."
a smirk touches his lips. "no," he murmurs calmly, finally looking over at you. "just obsessed with you."
you look away before he can see your flushed face, but of course he already noticed it. because there simply wasn't a thing he didn't notice about you. his phone turned off immediately. "hey," he said gently.
your eyes lift back to his. immediately his expression changes into something softer, but more serious. his hands slide up from your thigh to your waist, pulling you a little closer across the couch until you're practically in his lap. "what's going on in that head, hm?" he asks.
"nothing."
"liar."
the words are gentle, affectionate in a way. you laugh softly, but it comes out nervous. he catches that too. one hand comes up, brushing lightly along your jaw. "talk to me, doll."
you swallow. your voice comes out quietly—"what if... i love you more than you love me?"
the room goes completely still. namjoon stares at you for seconds that stretch far too long, like you had just said something completely. unbelievable.
his brows pulled together. "baby," he says softly, confused, "what?"
your heart pounds instantly at the name. you try to laugh it off, suddenly embarrassed now. "i don't know, i just—"
"no," he cuts in, hands tightening gently at your waist. they weren't harsh, but it was enough to stop you from spiraling away. "no, don't do that."
you looked back at him. and the way he was looking at you now—god. like this mattered. like you mattered.
"you really think you're ahead of me here?" he asks quietly, eyes boring into yours.
your breath catches as namjoon shifts closer, forehead resting lighting against yours. "i've been in love with you for a while now," he admitted softly.
for a second, you felt like you actually stopped breathing. his thumb brushed slowly against your cheek. "you just took longer to realize it."
a shaky laugh leaves you instantly, eyes burning now. namjoon smiles softly at that, an expression you only ever get to see.
"i love you," he says again, quieter this time. but it was certain, as if it were the most obvious thing it the world.
and suddenly every fear you had—about the age gap, about his fame, about his feelings for you—had totally disappeared. because this man—this calm, confident, impossible man—loves you so deeply that he didn't even hesitate to say it.
your eyes fluttered in disbelief, laughing away the butterflies in your stomach. "i love you too."
the smile that breaks across is face is small, but almost disbelieving. but it was unquestionably proud, like he had just won something prized. after that, he kissed you slowly. he enveloped your lips with his tenderly, soaking in all of your warmth beneath him.
"there you are," he murmurs softly. like you were always meant to end up here with him.
and somewhere between the side of the road and his arms, your little street thing had become everything.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
a/n : hope u guys loved this as much as i do eee! sorry there was so much relationship building... this is the longest bts fic i've made (on this app at least) omg..but joon is actually so sexy i could die.
read part two here
love u guys sm <3 read more of my joon fics here !!
|| mr. jeon wasn't looking for a girlfriend when he hired you as a babysitter for his 5 year old son - however, he took a liking to seeing you in his own home, way more than he'd realized. (13k words)
content : age gap (31 & 22) , secretly down bad jungkook, mini slow burn, sensitive reader, teasing, jealousy moment, eventual smut (mention of m. masturbation, unprotected p in v, oral f. receiving, praise and degradation, edging, doggy, hair pulling, talking her thru it, small boobs appreciation, clit play ..), fluff, lwk mean dom kook, they want each other bad, reader has long hair, jungkook is kinda grumpy, themes of dom & sub faintly underlying
♡ bunny´s notes : dad jungkook is my fav trope ! i worked hard on ts,, lmk what u think (This took ages to write) >.< may contain typos or errors
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Life looks different twice a week.
On boring mondays and long wednesday evenings, you'd been making your way over to a neighbourhood that seemed far out of reach before, getting on a bus you'd never thought to ride. Lavish residences with blooming gardens line the streets of his district, among them, a rather dark looking, simple house; plain garden with a swing placed thoughtlessly right in the middle of the neglected front lawn, a broken porch light glowing whenever it felt enticed to.
Yet the herbal, earthy and simultaneously fruity scent of bonterra organic cabernet lingers in the air from what feels like a mile away. The artificial sweetness of your 16 euro body spray - notes of sugar and vanilla - create a mismatched harmony that infiltrates Mr. Jeon's home.
His son fell in love with you at the first meeting.
The puppy-like looking little boy had nannies on trial and error before - highly paid, recommended ones, the kind that have a linkedin, like all the other rich bastards in Jungkook’s circle have. While the first two's soft approach got the occasional giggle out of Jukyung, the following three, stricter ones, failed to do anything but make him cry and refuse to eat the meals they had spent so much time preparing. All of it seemed to make no sense since - he is by no means a difficult child to charm, proving equal habits by the time you came around. Hiding behind his dad’s leg and clinging his tiny hands to the cashmere pant, eyes wide and already glossy from glancing up at the fresh face in front of him.
Maybe that's why Jukyung came to adore you so quickly. Sweet faced and unmistakably younger than any of the other women his dad hired. Old enough to be old in his eyes - but young enough to know the shows he watches, recognize marvel superheroes and play the songs currently on the radio - when he repeats them with a jumbled melody and made up, Incoherent lyrics.
“He's a bit shy” Jungkook sighs, muttering as his fingers skim down the kid's tiny shoulders soothingly. You reply with a small hum, offering an inviting smile to him as you talk,
"That's okay. I'm sure we will get along. I'm – , nice to meet you Jukyung.”
He blinks slowly, the big doe eyes that match his dad's shine with childish excitement Jungkook lost somewhere along the way of becoming a man.
“Namjoon said you're good with brats like him” Jungkook continues, a curious glint in his serious gaze, his friend's judgement remaining under scrutiny.
“Mr. Kim?”
He nods, “He suggested you to me”. While adjusting his tie, he spares a quick look at the golden watch on his wrist.
“I hope you get along. Don’t hesitate to call me if there is an emergency.”
Jukyung pouts as he looks up to his dad, his iron man shirt bunched up in angry little grips of his hands. You stay quiet, listening to the serious tone in Jungkook's voice fade out into a parental gentleness, wiping the look off his son's face as he crouches down, giving him a kiss to the forehead and a reassuring pat on the head. “Appa is gonna be home in a couple hours. Be nice, okay?”
“Okay” he grumbles in return, almost managing to sound annoyed - if it wasn't for him nodding enthusiastically. The determination of his dad is wearing off on him even at this age.
Overall, the resemblance is striking, which is definitely why your eyes keep scanning over Jungkook's form. Noticing his full, pierced bottom lip, the slenderness of his fingers, the sharp contours of his jaw and round tip of his nose that looks exactly like his sons.
Jungkook also thinks his son is just like him.
The panorama window sits high above the rest of the city, his desk overlooks people scrambling for a taxi, kids leaving their school's building with a backpack that's almost bigger than their own body. The corner of his office desk is decorated with a frame holding a picture of his son on his third birthday, smiling at him. The assistant left long ago, the humming of the radio turned off with her departure, Jungkook always works in silence when he is in solitude. His mind was filled with enough noise.
Vibrations drumming against his desk snap him out of the deep focus read he was loosing himself in, his eyes feel dry from the screen's blue light that glowed continuously - picking up his buzzing phone, trading for a smaller blue light to stare at him.
A picture of Jukyung takes up his screen, a large wooden spoon clutched in his hand, his feet anchored to the stepper in order to reach their stovetop. From the caption, it reveals the orange hued, vegetable filled pan to be a coconut curry that his son has, supposedly, made all on his own.
He huffs in the memory of Jukyung attempting to help him with pajeon when it had rained two days ago - knowing from extensive experience that his five year old may be a talented boy, but certainly no chef.
The screen turns dark again, leaving a read notification on your end. Streetlights down the line start turning on their yellow glares, the sun’s glow replaced as it bids goodbye slowly, notifying him that it is time to go home soon.
“Appa!”
“You’re not sleeping yet?” he tuts, loosening his tie and pulling off his suit jacket that survived another day. Jukyung shakes his head, a mischievous look proudly displayed on his face.
“You should have put him to sleep” Jungkook says, looking over at the neatly cleaned kitchen. From his distance, he can make out a covered pan still filled with a generous portion of food.
“He has a set bedtime” he continues, brushing past you as you walk to the front door, picking up your shoes.
Up until now, you assumed to have done a good job with his son. He was quick to talk to you, engage - reluctantly - with your suggestions, his shy and guarded posture loosening into clumsy movements as time went by.
“Right, i’m sorry, i guess i forgot about it”
Your reply is timid, shoulders raised against your knowledge, voice lowering into a smaller, flowery tone. The coconut curry’s aromas fly their way from the kitchen into the rest of the house, lingering in the air like an apology.
“Next time then”
Next time - Jungkook wants you to come back for a next time. Satisfaction runs through you quietly, Jukyung’s sleepy face looking up at you as he waves goodbye,
“Yes, see you next time” you say, waving back at the two politely.
It’s even quieter in his home than it is in his office once his son has fallen asleep. There’s no loud clock ticking on a wall, no background of employees talking in the hallways or printers working.
But there is a warm, home cooked dinner, sitting on his stove for him to eat.
Upon lifting the pan’s cover, the scent gets stronger, delicious spice and freshness rise with the steam of the dish. Jungkook doesn’t recall the last time he came home to the warmth of someone else’s cooking. Since Jukyung was born, there might have been a day - once or twice - where someone was watching him and there was food left over for him to eat. A day or two, where he didn’t need to carry his tired hands to rummage through his cabinets after vast hours of working. It was always cold, he knows that for a fact.
It wasn’t the comfort of a hot meal, the embrace of a taste that was seasoned with care - the picture of Kyung stirring the curry flashes in his mind as he scoops another spoonful into his mouth. He groans, aware of the inevitable look of anger crossing his expression. Jukyung pointed it out to him a couple months ago, how he always looks mad when he likes the taste of something he’s eating.
The static rush of water running is the loudest one in his house as he rinses off the empty plate, even with the pressure turned up to it’s fullest - with the water splashing over the rim, wettening his underarm, the rhythmic beating of his heart sounds loudly within his ears.
It’s the last sound he hears before he goes to sleep, the last thing he feels when his eyes are closed and his body feels warm, even with the AC running in the background.
Mondays always brought giddyness into his home. Jukyung got to pick the movie for the night- which typically ended up being either ponyo or spiderman into the spiderverse. His matching spiderman socks glide against the wooden floor as he sprints towards the front door, where you're sliding into the cotton slippers Jungkook bought for you to wear on your visits.
“You're gonna hurt yourself Kyung” Jungkook calls out, walking up behind him in slower strides.
“Hey Kyungie” you greet while his giggle starts up your own. Freely letting it out, the smile lines craving your skin, the scrunch in your nose blooming. You're reaching to mess up his hair a little, as he peers into the large tote bag hanging from your hand, the coloring book you brought looks very tempting.
“Noona, you have one?” he gushes.
“Of course. Told you I would bring you one didn't I?”
Nodding, he looks at his father who's displaying a lighter version of the same grin he's got on his face.
“What do we say?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow, turning his expression into a playful look of strictness.
“Thank youuu” Jukyung sings, sporting another giggle. He probably never wanted his dad to leave the house this badly, the idea of filling out little bear drawings with you couldn't wait any longer.
"That's right” his dad retorts.
“Give that to me” he continues, grasping the handles of the bag with his hand and pulling it out of yours. He must've noticed how it looked filled to the brim, now setting it on his couch as you pour yourself a glass of water.
“You can leave your things here, no need to carry everything over and make hassle”
You set the glass down, smiling at him awkwardly. “You’ve been saying that for weeks”
“Exactly” he says, buttoning up his coat, “And you keep ignoring it”
“Most of it is my uni stuff, Kyung's been sleeping early lately”
"You're studying that late?” he asks, narrowing his gaze at you. You hum in confirmation, explaining that the exam you're about to write has been driving you crazy. “I just can't get the hang of his writing. You’re not secretly a kant lover, are you?”
Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head abruptly. Philosophy has never been his thing and probably will never be. His life lessons wouldn't have been avoided by knowing what some old man thought a thousand years ago, his business would not have grown to be any bigger either.
"Unfortunately not. My advice is to keep reading. You'll get it eventually”
“Stellar, Mr. Jeon” you say, watching him shut his eyes in response. Juykung's laugh sounds faintly in the back of the open living room, busying himself with the crayons he snuck out of your bag.
"There's money on the counter for food, I didn't have time to go grocery shopping”
You look over to the couch as you speak, purposefully raising your voice to get the kid’s attention.
“That’s okay. I was thinking of making pizza from scratch”
Jukyung's doe eyes widen at your suggestion - snapping towards you for the second time, his excitement spills over into the room, flooding it with infectious, childish happiness.
“Pizza, I love pizza. Appa never makes it”
You gasp loudly at the perfectly reasonable revelation, shaking your head at Jungkook with faux disappointment.
“Really? That's no good”
Jungkook, a bit caught off guard at his son's cheekiness though it should come to no surprise, crosses his arms over his chest as he defends himself with the excuses of that being untrue, that if Jukyung ate his vegetables, maybe he'd consider pizza more often.
Their back and forth grants a glimpse into the home the way nothing material ever could. His son's expensive backpack and cheap pokemon bodywash don't account for the late nights that he lets him crawl into his spacious bed, strokes his head and mumbles made up stories to get Jukyung to fall back asleep. Domestic bickerings of father and son that are too alike and yet, couldn't be more different.
Jungkook's face never looks more handsome than it does when he's with his kid, his smile only reaches his eyes in moments like this. It's a sight you felt privileged to, a sight you, admittedly, called back into your thoughts often.
“Noona always gets to be the nice one, isn't that a bit harsh on me?”
“No, no you aaare is nice too. But noona is so nice. Just like you said noona is...” he trails off, pursing his lips and really straining his thoughts. He's thinking hard, and the adults have to hold back a laugh at the deep frown in his brows, the angry purse of his lips. At least before you understand that he's trying to recall something Jungkook had said about you.
“That's enough” he cuts in, reaching his hand down to high five his son,
“Don't cause trouble”
The front door creaks open, turning back with a composed expression, he nods at you, stepping out of the house without another goodbye to spare.
The sun is high up in the sky even in the afternoon. Rays of light reflect on the metal slide tucked into the back of the playground, scorching and unusable on days like these. From the bench you're sitting on, next to moms spreading the newest affair stories coursing through the neighbourhood, Jukyung is in perfect view. Running around in the knee long denim shorts he begged you to let him wear - they look just like ones his dad has on when he's not in a suit, he said. Watching his short legs scramble around among the equally tiny ones of his two friends, you could make out that they must be playing catch - or something akin to it. His giggles are loud and his friends laughter bright, it felt impossible not to smile at the combined sound of it.
Jungkook spots you as he rounds the corner, his shortsleeved button down shirt and black jeans sticking out sorely in a crowd of floral dresses and lightly colored Tshirts. The low call of your name gets you to notice him taking a seat on the bench as well.
“Mr. Jeon, you're early”
“My meeting was cut short” he replies, facing the playground in search of his kid. You can tell the moment he spots Jukyung, the frown in his brows evening out, his upper back now rests against the bench in relaxation.
“Has he been good?”
“Of course. He's really energetic today” you chuckle, meeting his eyes that have shifted over to you. He huffs out a short laugh, “Yeah, Kyung loves this weather” he adds, seeing a strand of your hair swaying past your face in the breeze. You tuck it back in place, holding a hand up to see past the blaring sun.
Your words about the new show Jukyung started watching turn into background buzz for him as Jungkook's gaze wanders off to the side, trailing after a mother holding hands with her son as they make their way out. Heesung, the little boy and Soojin, his mother, live a block down from him. Kindergarden has caused their worlds to collide in more than one way - Jukyung frequents their home, Heesung and him play football in their yard - while Soojin sometimes laughs a tad too loudly at Jungkook's sarcastic remarks and accidentally goes to pick up her son in a shirt that might've been washed too hot. Watching her now, his expression doesn't change, his frown never returns as though there is nothing present to bother him. Maybe there wasn't, maybe he had five years to get used to being a single father, to this inner feeling of somehow taking something away from his son.
He pushes it back down, letting his thoughts run back to routine - when his next meeting starts tomorrow, what he'd be cooking for dinner later.
“Sounds like something he'd like” he states, unsure if that's even the case. “How was your exam?”
“Oh, it went well, I think. I'm just glad it's over now” you reply, sighing with the relief of long studies that have come to an end. The glimmer of initial surprise doesn't go unnoticed, he himself is a bit stunned he managed to remember anything outside of his own schedule.
“I was always stressed in uni. I'm sure you did a good job” he says, seeing the exhaustion behind the coralish blush and the concealer you wear daily.
You try not to visibly melt at the validation, it was like he could pick out on your underlying insecurity, your silent need for something as simple as reassurance - someone to tell you that you did well, as embarrassing as that is.
“It is stressful. I have a paper due next week and I haven't had time to start it”
Jungkook hums, "Shouldn't have come today. You never cancel” he mutters almost disapprovingly, the image Jukyung swinging next to his friend reflects in his eyes.
“I wanted to see Kyungie. Promised him we'd be going to the playground”
A subtle, sunny smile takes its place on your lips when it’s your turn to face the swings - just as he's pulled to look at you again, because as time went on, it's been becoming increasingly, infuriatingly difficult to stop himself from doing so. Reluctantly, he allows his focus to remain on the sheer softness he can make out by looking at your lips, the fondness painting your face in peace. Something compels him to mumble that you're too nice to his son, wishing for you to overhear. He knows you do hear him once that gentle smile turns into an actual chuckle again and suddenly, he is almost grateful that you did.
Jungkook also knows what classes you have on the days you watch Juykung, he knows that the dress you’re wearing is your favourite because his son said it makes you look like a pretty princess - and he knows that he tried his hardest to pretend that he does not know any of those things. Just like he ignores how you remembered to ask him about the marketing deal that'd been stressing him out lately and how you noticed that he fixed the porch light after months of putting it off.
“Seriously, how long was that thing flickering for, it would drive me crazy”
Jungkook snarls briefly, the way he does when his son is being a bit of a brat, before searching for the answer to your question in the back of his mind.
“I don't remember a time it ever worked. When Hyejin and i first moved in it was already like that”
Hyejin.
It wasn't like you'd never thought to ask. Never sat in their home looking for evidence of another parent - pictures where she'd be seen moving in the background or posing with him. The absence of a mother was impossibly evident, regardless, never making the home feel incomplete. Jukyung never asked complicated questions about his mother, never had a complaint about her working too much, like appa does, or why all the other kids had one to come home to. But there had to be one, gathering from that one time he asked you if your mother and you are still friends, he knows he has one too.
The first ten seconds after he says her name are silent, it's always like that when he does mention her to anyone, like a curse you weren't supposed to say out loud.
“She's..?”
“His mother” he finishes, the uncomfortably familiar tightening in his throat fails to climb all the way up to shake his stable reply, practice over the duration of five years does that to someone.
“I see. I've never heard you talk about her” you say awkwardly, only noticing how that sounded once the sentence is spoken, you open your mouth to stumble over words that tell him “It’s not like you have to, i just meant-”
"No need to get scared” he says, the rough laugh that follows makes a flash of heat go through your stomach and an embarrassed flush flood your system. His unshakeable calm and stupid, serene seriousness even whilst laughing - rattled you every single day since meeting him. It makes you nervous by default, to engage with someone that seems to have it all together. So unlike you, so unlike any of the men that you’ve come in contact with in university frats and hallways.
“It’s not like there's much to say, she didn't want to be in his life, so she isn’t”
Occasionally, fragments of life were really that plain. That easily explained, a history of grief, longing, hard work and separation summarized into a bite sized answer that accomplished as much answering as a question like that can be answered. The addition of her leaving Jungkook stranded at 26 with a newborn that, he now has to raise into a functioning human, didn't serve any purpose. The detail that they had just begun renovating the house was useless. Five years later, all that matters is that the world kept spinning, that Jukyung may not have a mother but he does have a father that loves him unconditionally. A father that's happy with the way things are, for the better.
The simple answer sunk in and now, it didn't matter to you either, insignificant how's and why's vanished because of how hollow it felt to look into a story that ended in a content little boy.
“I don't think he needs more than his dad. You're doing amazing at giving him what he needs to be happy”
Jungkook’s throat tightens again, unfamiliar this time, fondly, like he wants to bathe in the compassion of that sentence and remind you - that Juykung needs you too.
“Thank you” is what he settles for, allowing enough space for quiet appreciation to sit down between you.
It doesn't stretch on much longer, interrupted by the high pitched crying ringing through the otherwise tranquilly chaotic playground. Crying that sounds too much like Jukyung. You're on your feet before he registers; it is indeed his child that's sitting on his newly scarped knees, sobbing tears that tumble down his chubby cheeks in a stream.
“Shh, it's okay Kyungie, come here.. Let noona see..” you mumble into his black messy hair, the wetness on his face seeps into your shirt as he molds himself into your chest. You're crouching form has Jungkook standing uselessly to your right, looking down at your hand that soothes his kid's back, the comfort of your embrace sparks Jukyung to sniffle in order to catch his breath and explain that he fell, only for his voice to break at the end.
You place a kiss on his temple, picking him up to sit on your underarm while inspecting his minimal wound with worried eyes that look suspiciously glossy. Jungkook's whispering gruff “It’s okay" 's, the unease in his own body diffusing when Juykung naturally reaches for your embrace, seeks your soft words with tiny hiccups. Softening even further, as his miniature fingers brush a salty tear from your own cheek.
Jukyung pouts, telling you not to be sad, that he's a big boy. He knew he’d be safe when you came walking, knew you’d be there to hold him when he was hurt and Jungkook now knew - that his son's trust in you is the biggest blessing a curse could possibly bring. Butterflies that he thought lost their wings half a decade ago begin to fly through his stomach briskly, the tingle so juvenile and youthful it feels almost wrong to pay attention to.
“You need to be more careful buddy” he grumbles, hugging the small boy to his chest as you´re passing him over, listening to his sobs subside slowly.
“Do you wanna eat ice cream before we go home?”
Jukyung's mood brightens in a bat of his long eyelashes, the glossy doe eyes staring into his dad's demandingly and he knew no better than to give in. “I want choco ice cream" he nods enthusiastically, forgetting all about his scraped knee at the thought of tasting chocolate that melts into his mouth.
“Would you like one too?”
“Yes, yes noona take one! You like strawberry” Jukyung says proudly, stealing the polite no off your lips, declining the idea of you missing out on something as amazing as ice cream. Jungkook looks at you to confirm,
“You're right, I do like strawberry” you say to Jukyung, though you're looking at his dad, who is already pulling out cash from his wallet, whilst his son is beaming about being able to recall the flavour you favor most.
“Thank you Mr. Jeon” you tell him after he's done ordering for the three of you. He's about to open his mouth to tell you that it's really nothing, but Jukyung butts in.
“Jungkook”
Both of you share a look of confusion, tilting your head at the little boy apparently does the trick, he repeats his father's name - this time elaborating simply,
"Appa's name is Jungkook”
Jungkook's puzzle pieces fall into place before yours do, huffing at the innocent ease of his words, the weight behind them invisible and unimportant in the mind of a five year old. Jukyung takes the icecream into his greedy little hands as soon as it's in reach, licking away at it like there was a timer running - the pain of his previous injury long left in the dust.
“You're right Kyung” he enforces after a split second of bravery in his weakness, handing over your own portion and hoping - that you'd understand the message he's trying to send.
Normally, you’d refuse. Immediately result in professional smiles and head shakes, saying that there is no need to skip formalities. It might have been the intensity of his brown eyes as he established what he wanted, how there was never an offer as much as there was a demand. Doomed to the beauty of his name and the honey as he said it, there remained no bone in your body that craved to deny him. Your throat itches to say his name, let it roll off your tongue delightfully, let the sound hang in the thick summer air.
“Jungkook” you repeat, satisfied at hearing yourself say it. The wall tore down loudly, echoing a minimized space between you two. Realistically, it was nothing more than his first name - but also, nothing less than being called by his first name.
“Getting used to that will take time”
"Don't stress out” he exhales heavily, facing his kid that's succeeded in smothering his mouth in chocolate ice cream.
“Noona, can you not stay for longer? pleeeease?”
“Jukyung, let noona go home, she's been entertaining you all day” Jungkook chimes in, picking up his whiny kid by his armpits, the stretched word please becoming background noise as he groans, settling him against his broad chest.
“Enough, it's late and you're sleepy, say bye to noona” he says, a slightly worn out edge to his tone. Jukyung pouts as he waves in your direction, watching you zip up your jacket with glassy puppy eyes.
“Bye bye noona” he mumbles dramatically, making a kissy face afterwards. With your fingers scratching at his head that rests on Jungkook, you tell them, “Goodnight, sleep well”
Jungkook's tiling his head down involuntarily - closer, focusing his unguarded gaze on the genuine smile on your face, the tenderness in your words as you speak to his baby. His heart thumps stupidly loud when Jukyung giggles at your touch and he hates how submissive he feels to all of it. To the ridiculous image of extending the hold to include you, attach his lips to your head because it'd be so easy to just lean down and -
"Mr. Jeon?”
“Yes”
Sharp. Maybe too sharp - too forced against the silent, pillowy warmth that bubbled up inside him moments ago. He notes your startled blink, the sweet innocence of those pretty eyes that don't understand what it does to him when you stare up like that. He doesn't correct you, respects the much needed, accidental distance in the usage of his last name.
“I uhm, just wanted to say goodbye”
“Yeah” he grumbles, roughly wiping a hand down his tired face, his other holding on to the squirmy child, “Goodnight”
The door shuts, Jukyung is rubbing his eyes sleepily and it's just them now. He's just Appa now, and you're on the bus - on the way back to the university dorm you live in. At times that felt like a united world broke its illusion. You were, whether you yourself knew or remained painstakingly unaware, in utterly incompatible worlds. That is his mantra, his voice of reason anytime he starts drifting into thoughts that notice how much your dynamic creates a harmonious balance despite it all. Despite him being nearly a decade older, a single dad, a rich business man.
Because as much as he feels sick being stripped down like this, naked in the shower - exposed to his bare thoughts - in your eyes, all he truly ever was, is Jukyung's dad. Just Appa - just Mr. Jeon, Jungkook. He desires nothing more than to solely be Jungkook, that's who stares back at him with every glance in the fogged up mirror. But he isn't, or more so, he cannot be. Not when you have too much ahead of yourself, the youth of nine years he'd lived through already- and deserve so much better than a thirty-two year old single father that fists his cock to the remembrance of his first name on your lips, in that sweet, girlish voice.
He groans your name quietly - like the sound hurts and scratches its way up his throat because it feels wrong, so wrong how naturally it seeks to slip out no matter how much he forbids himself to voice it. Slow drags of his hand over his aching cock transform into hasty strokes that crave a smaller, softer hand to tip him over. The blurry picture of you earlier, in that pretty dress that hit just below your knee, the fabric denting at the curve of your waist just enough to make out the dips and curves - felt sinfully beautiful in his mind's eye. It would've felt much more satisfying to spill into a hand that has polka dotted gel nails, watch his milky arousal drip from those feminine fingers instead of his tattooed digits. He wouldn't be washing it away shortly after, there would be no shameful cloud to loom over his head as he shampoos it.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“Sorry,” you hush, gathering up the limp child in your arms. His head lolls back, pouty lips parted in a relaxed snore. Jungkook’s fingers brush yours when he takes his sleeping kid into his arms, bicep straining against the black button down, “I tried to keep him awake. The playground really did a number on him”
"Not surprised” he says, stroking some long strands from Jukyung's forehead, “So?”
“Oh, right” you almost forgot he asked you something. It was just so distracting - the subtle ways he would soften when looking at his son, the way his shirt clung to his arms and chest in an intimidating contrast, “Sure, if it's no issue”
“Of course not” he mutters back like the question was an inconvenience, the width of his shoulders coming into view as he steps up the staircase, getting ready to lie Jukyung into his racecar bed.
Jungkook’s long day shows up in his slower movements as he chops up the ingredients, adding that tired rasp to his already sultry voice as he talks.
“You bought it for him”
“What?” his eyes narrow a little, swinging the noodle pan with an easy wrist,
“The bed he's been rambling about” you answer, standing just shy of brushing against his frame when attempting to pull out two plates from the top cabinet. Your stance proves unstable, fingertips reaching for lengths out of reach even on the balls of your slippers,
“Yeah. He wouldn't let it go” Jungkook says with a short exhale, his fingers reach beyond yours, pulling out the two plates with a clank that's too loud in the sudden silence. His chest brushes against your shoulders with the slight lean, the ghost of his contact haunts your skin with shivers, no matter how brief it had been.
“Here” he says, his gaze dropping to meet yours, already looking up at his face that seemed too close - even though there is a respectable distance, you could clearly see the mole under his bottom lip, the silver ring in the corner that glistened in the fluorescent kitchen light. The action remains uncommented but you swear you see his eyes dart to your parted lips for an unusually long second- just as he returns his attention back to the curry pasta, leaving you to set the plates down like nothing had happened, because nothing did happen.
The unforeseen pulse between your thighs would beg to disagree. Embarrassingly it blooms, causing you to press your legs together secretly - hidden under the dark wood table just as he sits down next to your tense figure. Not across, not facing you with the length of his table separating you. On the chair next to yours, body angled in to fill up your empty plate with a delicious smelling dinner. The action is careful, caring in a way that only worsens the ache with its underlying dominance, with the gruff mumble of him telling - or rather, ordering you to start eating. You wait for his plate to be full before you do, and with the first bite always comes that satisfied, low moan. Jungkook knew it was coming, he'd first lost his mind when you got icecream together and braced for its arrival ever since. Your reactivity had him fantasize about how stupidly easy it is to make you moan, how he would probably be able to make you cry if he just kissed you for long enough, deeply enough.
“You should eat too” you mumble, covering your mouth. He's staring, he just now realises.
“Is it good?” Jungkook questions, taking a first bite himself - the flavours spark on his tongue in the familiar comfort of a dish he has cooked a dozen times over.
“Soo good” you hum, nodding your head as if to support the statement while chewing. He hums too, beginning to feel the heat rise up his neck and it steals his ability to speak momentarily.
“Yeah?” he huffs, a swipe of his tongue over his lips accommodate the strangely sultry intonation that's laced itself into the conversation,
“You like it?”
The way he asks feels loaded. You do like it. Both of you know you do. The simple answer is yes, the complicated one is the softer sounding yes you give him;
eyeing his lips, voice quieting to mirror the weight of his own gaze.
“I'm glad. It's nothing elaborate” he mutters, spinning his fork slowly with a stern glare into the plate. He was getting distracted.
“I saw normal people by sally rooney in your bag” Jungkook states, remembering how the cover caught his attention. He read that book a while back, turning the pages about stories of, well, normal people. Relationships, lives. From the handful of books he read, he wouldn't shy away from crowning this one as his favourite. Something so ordinary and complicatedly mundane felt like second nature. You, on the other hand, take another bite as you gather your thoughts.
“Terrible book. Don't read it, it's a waste of time”
“What?” he fires back, a sharp huff of air leaving him.
“What? It's so boring, basically nothing happens in it” irritation laces quietly into your words, watching him get increasingly more irritated in return. He sets his fork down, a tinge of sarcasm accompanying him, “Right, nothing in 300 pages”
“Yes” you say, barely smiling while gesturing his way, “Now you get it”
Jungkook shakes his head, grumbling that, “You have terrible taste”
“Because I don’t wanna read about someone’s daily life?”
“Because you think that slice of life is boring. It's social commentary” he says, his voice getting a tad louder with his increased annoyance and it hits him then, that he's getting way too worked up over this. He can’t help it, the feeling of being misunderstood prickles underneath his skin. Instead of going on a tangent about the lessons in life and the beauty of normalcy in a society where there’s so many expectations thrust on you, he resumes eating.
“If I wanted philosophic takes I’d read my classes notes”
“Maybe you should”
“Sorry?” you say, more mockingly than seriously offended. Jungkook, looking back up at you with his signature, neutral expression tells you; “Apology accepted” before breaking out into what can only be described as an indefinite smirk.
“Once you get older, you’ll understand wanting to know about lives like your own” he retaliates, eating another mouthful of pasta to let the statement settle first.
“I’m not saying it’s not understandable, i’m saying i think it’s boring”
Your explanation doesn’t pull an answer from him, pushing you to start talking again. “I like when a book takes me places that.. aren’t realistic”
“Most people do”
“Yeah, i guess”
You’re looking at him from the lens of someone that has lived an equally as normal life - maybe even more so, without a child to take care of on your own, without the headstart of abundant money, the responsibility of a business on your shoulders.
“But I guess it’s nice to read something boring once in a while. Makes you feel less boring yourself”
"Recommend me one. Maybe it can change my mind” you add after a moment of consideration, the olive branch fragile and swaying as you wait for him to take it.
“Intermezzo. Also by sally rooney.”
“Are you a fan?” you joke, raising an eyebrow at him. He tuts, his shoulders shaking slightly with a gentle, low laugh spilling from his lips. Ease takes over your body, a smile openly shines on your own lips now, the thought of wanting to hear his laugh again makes you feel impatient.
Impatient to listen to more of his opinions, unwrap the tangled ropes that tie together his thoughts.
Perhaps too impatient, too uncoordinated as you brush the fork past your lips.
"There's something” he begins, inching closer with intent. His hand reaches to your face, thumb swiping at the corner of your lips with added pressure as he mumbles the remainder of his sentence, “... on your face”
He’s unable to stop looking, unable to pretend he does not see your eyes widening, your breath catching in your throat. The tiny sound of surprise has him holding down a deep moan. He doesn't let his finger linger afterwards, his thumb is gone from your skin as fast and unexpectedly as it had landed there in the first place. However, you would be able to feel it tingle there for hours later. Even days.
Like on this quiet friday evening, standing in your cozy bathroom, looking into the mirror as you tie your hair back, remove your hoops - wash off the make up that’s been marinating on your face for longer than it should have. You scrub, closing your eyes, the warm water feels like a hug on your stripped skin. In the black behind your eyelids, the touch on your face feels lively - and you can almost hear his voice too, telling you to read the book that’s now sitting on your nightstand, halfway into a story of grief, love, family.
A story about a part of life everyone will be confronted with. An ending no one can escape witnessing and falling victim to. Nature taking its breath back, people losing each other and gaining vital epiphanies, long winded stories that end in questions and answers. Reflection, a window into your own life and it's fragile evanescence. Death isn’t the only grief a person can experience. Losing someone - something, the effects of that run through your veins because of absence. Learning to fill the hole - whether by stitching it up or embedding its presence into routine, isn’t a task exclusive to the aftermaths of a death.
The text message notification dings, transferring you out of the story that’s been playing out on the laid out pages.
“Can you watch Kyungie today? It'd be from 7pm to around 9:30pm.”
With a glance to the time on top of your screen, you close up the book, letting him know that, yes - you’d be there soon.
When you arrive after taking the usual route, nothing is particularly unusual, though something is different. Impossible - to - ignore - kind of different. He stands in front of the hallway mirror for much longer than normal, adjusting his tie for what seems like the seventh time in five minutes. And when he walks past to slip into his jimmy choo's, the air reeks thickly of bleu de chanel.
Manly, fresh, deliberate.
“What’s the occasion ? You never make me watch him on weekends”
“It was a bit spontaneous. I’ll pay you extra for the short notice - and I’ll text you if it gets later.”
You nod in agreement, give him another questioning look he fails to acknowledge as your heartbeat continues to speed up, the clingy awareness of insecurity providing its steady beat. He swings his coat over his shoulders, slipping into it carefully. The gust of wind that passes when he closes the front door behind him is cool, uncovering how suffocating the air in your lungs is. Suddenly, you knew what this was. Why it might get later than anticipated, later than how things usually are.
Jungkook is going on a date.
It doesn’t matter, does it?
That you’ve never seen his hair styled like this and you're already mentally scrolling through restaurants he might be taking her to, silently wondering If he kisses on the first date,
If he tastes like nicotine and sugary maturity.
It matters when the strong feeling of disappointment rushes to your chest and your mind wraps itself around the concept of Jungkook looking to date. The quiet intimacy from your perspective now staring back at you like a huge misunderstanding. It didn't vanish - if anything, the plunging feeling only grew with his son that is already tugging on the sleeve of your oversized sweater, babbling about wanting to watch ponyo and do puzzles. Activities with his noona, the babysitter that watches Jungkook’s son.
Jungkook's son, who’s so completely in love with you, who you've sung to sleep with Jungkook admiring quietly, leaning against the doorframe - hoping you didn't spot his shadow. Jungkook who'd heard you tell Jukyung your favourite fruit and somehow, always ended up buying tangerines at the end of the week after that
“Noona actually brought you a new puzzle”
His smile widens into an innocent giggle, wrapping his little grubby hands around your arm and you can not be asked not to chuckle in return, letting him walk you to the couch. “Did you eat dinner Kyungie?”
“I’m starving” she chuckles, "Haven't eaten in hours”
Boring, god the woman in front of Jungkook is so incredibly boring to him.
Soojin's pretty, with long brown hair and a low cut shirt, a gentle voice and a nice smile. The faint touches of her hand on his arm when she laughed at something he had said - or the way her eyes darted to his lip ring - didn’t reel him in. Not like it did with you, where he felt the pull of wanting to kiss that needy look off your face. Everything she said, about her yoga studio and the way she liked going golfing, was so boring to Jungkook. He wondered, at some point of watching her sip the wine he ordered, if you had already put Jukyung to bed, if your hair is pulled into a messy pony yet and if you knew what he was doing right now.
Something about it made him feel almost guilty. He'd avoided saying it on purpose, why you're watching over his son today and yet, when he glanced back at you through the window, It was obvious you had caught on. Obviously, whatever you were feeling about the realization, you did not look happy for him. In a twisted way, it made him happy, even if for a mere moment.
Dinner tastes good, steak always does the trick - wine always relaxes him. Unable to indulge in it to the full extent, he had to drive - but getting wine drunk has never sounded more appealing. Especially after the fifth failed attempt of intellectual conversation. Words were not getting him anywhere but deeper in thought, nowhere and yet, parked in front of her apartment, with a slightly frustrated frown in his eyebrows - his lips kept colliding with hers anyways, allowing her warm tongue to lip past and explore his mouth. His eyes shut tightly in an effort not to sink into this burdening feeling, the low groan that he lets out sounds more frustrated than blissful. Frustrated with himself, with the fact that Soojin's hands on his shirt buttons fail to faze him, that he doesn't move his hands up and down her body to map out the curves she has - but simply anchors them to her hips. He was holding on to the denim like the image of you, despite wanting nothing more than to let go of both at that very moment.
“I should get going” she mumbled breathlessly, the desperation in her airy voice sounded like she imagined him to refuse, to keep her in his car and mess up the make up she'd spend so much time putting on, let her undo the very last buttons of his shirt too. So when he hums and agrees, saying that it is getting late and they both do have a child at home after all, her slick smile turns almost polite. Straightening out her hair with her fingers, she stepped out without meeting his gaze once more.
Jungkook exhales heavily after the Mercedes door slams, running a sweaty hand down his handsome scowl and begins driving home, to his son, to you.
The rattling of his keys don’t wake you from the slumber you’d fallen into about halfway into the second round of ponyo playing on the flatscreen. It laughs at Jungkook, mocking the storm that was already rampaging his thoughts. You looked like a domestic wet dream; Jukyung's sleeping from with his head laid on your chest that is rising and falling, comfortably matching the rhythm of his son's slowed breathing. With unspoken awe, he notices how his son holds on to your shoulder loosely, how your soft hand looks big on the little boy's back and your eyelashes fan so prettily against your rosy cheeks. Noting the absence of a blanket, he’s already halfway into laying one over the both of you, ignoring the sheer fact that, realistically, he would need to wake you and you should be making your way back home.
“Jungkook?”
The dazed mumble of his name halts him in his tracks, widened blanket hanging in his hands without a purpose. He lets you wake up, waits until the fog of sleep disappears from your eyes to continue talking. The taste of his date's lips haunts his mouth in a bitter aftertaste now, seeing how your first instinct was to pull Juykung closer to your body, perching him upright as you sit yourself up.
“Shit I must've fallen asleep. Did you just get back?”
“Yeah, about a minute ago” he answers, folding the blanket back up, “Did he make you watch that fish movie again?” he mumbles, nodding towards the tv.
You nod too, groaning softly while tucking the sleeping child into the corner of the couch, coming to yourself from the nap. “Probably why we fell asleep, seen it about a hundred times now.” A beat of silence passes, your voice turns painfully careful,
“ How.. was it?”
Jungkook stills, the air between you both growing thick. A tense glance is exchanged as he steps forward an inch, his fully dressed-up form standing right in front of where you are sitting on his couch with a softness he isn't familiar with. He tried to clear himself of his actions - weak attempts in forgetting about you, buttoned his shirt back up and reapplied his perfume to overpower her stench. He was aware it was to no use, not when you could see his well gelled hair now beginning to fall loose, how a trace of red was smeared slightly around his lips and the pristinely ironed shirt looked just a tad messed up. He clears his throat, answering the question you never wanted to ask in the first place.
“Okay, I think”
“Okay?” you echo, the curious undertone smells like a hope you didn't dare to have. Misplaced, possibly unwelcomed.
He sighs, a quick shake of his head following,
“Nothing special. "Didn’t feel it.”
It was short, direct. An answer that was true to his nature and another relief to yours.
“Not your type?”
“No, not my type” he says, his body slumping down on the couch next to yours with a hand reaching to caress Juykung’s back - his head tips back against the couch with a delicious stretch of his neck. No purple bruises, no wet patches of skin decorating the road down to his shoulder. The darkness of the living room provides you with a slight comfort, swallowing details of your feelings, like the slight shake in your fingers when you too - lean back against the couch, head tilted enough to face him. He looks at you for that brief lapse of time, vulnerable wordlessness settles down, taking up the remaining inches between your faces. Raw and hidden all at once, the absence of light strikes Jungkook to be honest with not only himself, but you.
“It just felt unnatural. I didn't really.. want to be there”
He murmurs, his eyelids feeling heavy with drowsiness, “Wanted to go home”
“Sounds boring. We had fun here, you really missed out” you mumble back with withheld amusement, feeling the effects of this moment take a toll on you. It’s easier to tease him when you feel unseen, there is less resistance to the pull that always wants to tug you together adjacently.
The hum he lets out sounds from deep within his throat, almost rumbling through his deep, quiet words.
“Like I said, I wanted to be home”
Home, didn't just mean at his house, inside his walls without anyone to bother him but his kid. Home meant being somewhere you were, somewhere he had his son in reach, somewhere he knew he belonged. There was no use in explaining his favourite book to a woman that wasn't interested in the workings of his mind, no use when you'd read the same book and - hated it, listened to him bitching about you not getting the point but nonetheless, ended up reading another one of those just because he saw value in it.
When you breathed a part back into his lungs that was devoid of air, that now longs for warm meals after a long work day, the sight of a woman sleeping with his kid in her arms, a soft laugh he helped elicit.
Utterly, devastatingly terrifying.
“I felt like that with my ex boyfriend. Like I had to be what.. he wanted me to be” you say after a deeper inhale, the breath filling your tight chest with courage. You learned not to cry because he would get annoyed, mastered to dim your light for comfort, but it's plastered all over your face, how much allow yourself to show when you feel like it's just Jungkook that's watching.
“Unnatural, if that's what you meant”
“I did” he clarifies, “How long were you together for?”
“Not too long, I broke up with him after six months” you explain, reminded of the day you chose yourself. It must be laughable in his eyes, you think. Six months was nothing compared to his break up. Instead, he sympathetically quiets his words, mist of late hours making them feel too loud anyway.
“I’m sorry to hear that”
"Don't be” you shake your head, "It's better that way. I don't want to pretend”
“Neither do I” he admits, running his fingers through his hair, the previously formal style now messily sitting on his head with wear. He looks comfortable.
“Was.. this your first date after Hyejin?”
The question is a leap, a gap you didn't know you had permission to breach. As the question leaves your lips, the dark gives away how he doesn´t seem fazed or surprised, he just presses his lips together, nodding “Yeah. Had a baby to raise”
“Do you feel ready now?”
Jungkook cocks his head, his body instinctively turning towards you. The invisible string of rough, vague want and deep, intricate need for connection pulls tighter.
“Ready?” he hums, a moment of debating his answer goes by “Ready isn't a feeling. You decide ready”
Control is a possession he kept dearest to him. Decide how people look at you. Decide what they know. Decide when you're ready, no matter how much his heart rebels against it with its violent beat, no matter how much his hands long for a counterpart to lace his finger through and squeeze when things get overwhelming.
“You shouldn't pretend. There's nothing you have to hide”
You mutter, turning to your side as well. Whilst looking at him with the slit of separation that presented as a large wall, there still wasn't anything he could hide under. You'd seen him, even with his suit on and his back turned, you were always able to see Jungkook.
Midnight struck on his rolex like lightning, the string that's been pulling at your heads and hearts snaps underneath the tension of him deciding - that he isn't ready yet.
“You should go home, you'll be exhausted for your 8:00 am class”
He rises to his feet, cracks in his surface blend back together as the newfound space creates enough room to stop breathing in each other's exhales, swallow each other's words.
A sinking feeling comes up back as you do from the suede couch, the distance is notable, your smile adjusts into one he knows is restrained and it makes him feel like an asshole. He doesn't fight it, tells you to be safe after you open his front door, stepping outside of the isolated world they created.
The candle, a big, blue and sparkling six, is lit with its swaying flame moving in the wind passing through the Jeon’s kitchen window. Jukyung leans forward, his lips pursed as he blows out the candle with his birthday wish rooted deep in his mind, letting the smoke from the extinguished flame carry it out into the world.
“Did you wish for something good buddy?” His dad asks, wiping off the chocolate icing sticking to the bottom of the candle.
“Of course I did” he smiles proudly, the shimmer of childhood bright and alive as another year of life is ahead for him. His eyes widen in amazement the second the knife slides into his belgian chocolate mousse cake,
“What did you wish for?”
“That’s a secret, silly” Jukyung nods enthusiastically, watching as his dad raises a questioning eyebrow, placing a generous slice down on to the plate laying on the table.
“Alright, Alright” Jungkook says, pressing a kiss to his son's ruffled hair. In true Jukyung fashion, the chocolate spreads beyond the corners of his lips and somehow always ends up all over his fingers. But it's his birthday today, so all Jungkook can really do is watch, smile and hold back the current of emotion raving through his pulse.
After dropping Jukyung off at his best friends house, he drives back up the road, spotting someone waiting on his porch.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hey” you start, shuffling the blue paper bag from one hand to another,
“Sorry, i just wanted to drop off a gift for Kyung. Guess I'm a little late” you smile, reading him unlocking the door as a silent invitation for you to follow. Taking off your shoes as always, sliding into your house slippers laying right next to his.
“What did you get him?” Jungkook grabs two glasses from the cupboard, holding up a bottle of lillet. You nod, “A coloring book. The totoro one, i'm tired of ponyo”
Jungkook grins, pouring the both of you a refreshing, full glass. The weather is beautiful today, breezing romantic summer air. His eyes note the pink lipstick stain on his glass after you took a sip, sitting prettily.
“I can't stand that stupid fish” he grumbles, bringing his glass to his lips, concealing the way his smile widens at the sound of your laugh.
“He's growing up fast. He was so much more.. baby like when i started”
“Yeah. He's a little gentleman now” Jungkook rests his forearm on the counter, leaning against it casually by your side.
“He starts preschool soon right?”
He hums, looking into his glass,
"In September"
You hum too, the marble counter reflecting a ray of setting sunlight into the room. Glows of the golden hour soak his honey skin in it's hues, the glint of fresh tears in your eyes is more obvious when colorful.
“Ahh..” you shake your head, smiling to suppress it further, your finger already on the way to catch what's threatening to fall from your eyes, “Sorry, i get emotional so quickly”
Jungkook shifts closer, the natural black strands falling over his forehead - his body folds slightly to adjust to you, he knows this feeling. He recognizes it for what it is, for what it has always been with you around. He's not good at hiding it this time.
There's beauty outside control.
“That's okay. I get it, he's my son” he murmurs, brushing his fingers against yours, resting on the cool surface. You wait for them to disappear, but they never do. His fingers stay on top of yours like a feather light kiss, brown eyes refusing to look away from your face as the sadness disappears into sheer relaxation.
“You do realise that he loves you” Jungkook says, his thumb slowly moving against your hand,
“Do you know what he wished for, when he blew out the candle?”
His body moves forward again, you shake your head no, letting him continue, the words drowned in quiet affection.
“He said it's a secret, but that lasted for maybe 10 minutes”
Another smile blooms on your lips, waters the one growing on Jungkook's as he continues, focused on keeping that devastatingly heartfelt look all over your face.
“He wished for you to keep watching him when he gets older”
Jungkook is mesmerized with the first tear that truly tumbles down the apple of your cheek, a single, short sigh passing through your lips as you do nothing but look at him. Into his eyes, searching for something.
He inches his fingers closer, time feels stretched out into slow motion as his thumb makes contact with the wetness on your cheek, swiping it away carefully. You don't shatter under his touch, encouraging his thumb to wander down your jaw, caress again, until, unwillingly, tilting up the tip of your chin subtly.
He's powerless as he leans down, breathless at the first angelic touch of your lips on his.
Jungkook wants to kiss you until the world fades out.
Your lips attach to his too, slowly at first, testing how good it feels in your whole body every time his quiet sounds slip into your mouth, getting louder once your arms have made their way around his neck. His kisses grow demanding at the closeness, the warmth of your body creeping from your waist into his palms, your sweet moan of satisfaction makes him smile faintly right into the kiss, sliding his tongue against yours to pull another moan from your mouth.
“We need you” he mumbles, the words swallowed under more passionate collisions, drowning in your combined heavy breathing that resulted from being each other's source of air.
“Do I kiss better than Soojin?” you mumble after a hitch of your breath, his swollen lips trail down your tilted neck eagerly and patiently all at once. The memory of her makes his skin prickle, wanting nothing more but to tie himself to you further. Wet, open kisses punctuate his response, the nickname seeping into your skin, embedding its low sound into your body.
“Jealousy looks cute on you, sweetheart”
“M'not jealous" you chuckle, airy and full of lies. You can feel his grin resurface against your jaw this time, his hands slip underneath the hem of your blouse, tracing the slit of skin with slow strokes,
“Don't lie to me” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours for another taste of you. “M'gonna take this off”
He announces it, waiting for your nod to confirm before pulling the fabric over your head. The white, lace adorned bra cups your small chest beautifully, pulling his eyes to trace down the curve of your neck, the line of your shoulders, down to your breasts. He attempts to soothe his ragged need by running his hands up and down your back, feeling the skin grounding him.
Your manicured fingers pull him in by his tie, loosening the patterned fabric as he works on shrugging his heavy jacket off his shoulders. The rings on his finger are cool against your cheek, while your fingertips thrum against his chest once you've managed to unbutton his shirt. The desire in your eyes is honest as you do nothing but look at each other, painted under the light of the kitchen, shifting as he carries you up the stairs, lays you down into the plushness of his large bed. His black covers dip underneath your combined weight. There's gentleness in this heat, in the way his fringe tingles on your forehead as he supports himself - bicep flexing next to your head.
“You're so fucking beautiful” he whispers, nipping at your bottom lip the moment a pout forms on your face. Inside his chest cracks open the sentiment of being naked. Everything you know about the way he is, the pressure of his kisses and the taste of his skin, how his muscles flex and his eyes get heavy lidded - made him so, so naked.
Above you, the warmth radiates from him, forgetting that your skin is exposed to the cold nightly air taking up most of the tranquil room. Birds singing outside remind you that there's a whole word beyond this moment and these four walls that surround you.
Jungkook, most of the time, knows what he wants. His lips and hands wander all over you, rounding your shoulders, unclasping your bra with distracting flicks of his tongue on your collarbone. The bra gets tossed somewhere unimportant, his mouth devotes itself to leave every patch of your chest kissed, tracing down the subtle swell of your breasts - but there's only so much throbbing you can take between your thighs, so many little nibbles until you get restless and dig your nails into the naked muscle on his back.
“Stop whining” he huffs, tugging sharply at your right nipple while lapping at the equally stiff left one, his lips close around it with a rougher suck. You naturally whimper again, raising your back off the bed to indulge into his touch as much as you try to squirm away from it. The only place you wish to run to right now is this.
Alternating sides, he glances up at your pleasure clouded face, circling your bud the tip of his tongue torturously slowly, rubbing against the other one with the pad of his thumb without necessary roughness.
Too shallow, too soft.
“Please”
Jungkook hums at your whiny plea, noting the furrow in your eyebrows that's formed in concentration to, somehow, feel more of his touch.
“Ask nicely for what you want” he retorts, continuing to suck on your skin with time entirely at his mercy. Your fingers curl into his hair, voice coming out quietly and stained with embarrassment.
“Please.. give me more”
“Not so hard, is it?”
You shake your head no - breaking into a louder moan as he sucks more insistently, lips smacking against your skin. “Yes- mh -mmh”
“Like this yeah?” he mumbles, the breathless moans coming from your lips fill up his ears with motivation to keep kissing at your chest until your palm flattens on his forehead, pushing in overstimulation. He smiles, dominant and beautifully dangerous while dancing down the line of your stomach, kissing along your navel with his tongue dipping just a slither below your pant line. Warm fingers cup your thighs, carrying the need to rip off your pants to be gratified with the feel of your skin on his own.
If both of you listened closely enough, the joined, rapid thumping of two interlinked hearts could be heard below Jungkook's deep murmurs.
“You're so needy, what are you squirming for?”
“You, Jungkook” you pout again, unfamiliar with the desperate edge in your voice and the urge to beg for something like the touch of another person. His grip on your thighs loosen, repositioning to rub your hips on either side.
“What do you want from me? Talk to me”
“Something, just do something” you groan impatiently, biting the corner of your lip at the sudden sting after the smack he lands on your thigh, shaking his head to retaliate.
“Ask nicely. You want me to take this off and touch you?” he asks, narrowing his voice down into a delicious, low rumble that melts you down further, sinking into the intoxication he's drunk with. His dark eyes look straight up at you, expecting you to answer him. Still, there's an underlying question in the way he brushes his thumb over your hip bone as he waits for your response.
“Can you please.. take it off”
“And do what?”
He slowly unzips your pants, popping the button and getting a glance of the tiny bow sitting obediently atop your panties. Teasing, so sweet.
The sensation of your pants sliding down your legs feels freeing, an obvious damp spot greeting Jungkook as he tugs your legs free - making his painfully erect cock twitch against the material of his boxers.
“Touch me, please” you finish, a glossy layer overshadows your eyes and a slight sheath of sweat coats your palms. Nervously, you grip the dark sheets, closing your thighs to hide your growing arousal from him. His demeanor shifts to compliment your surfacing emotion, sliding his warm, steady hands up and down your arms, placing a longing kiss to your forehead. Your chest deflates with a heavy exhale into the safety.
“Good girl, that's it pretty. I'm gonna touch you, just like you want”
His own need is mere background noise the minute he parts your thighs again, sees the reciprocated craving of your body for his. The tip of his index draws a line on your inner thighs, touches the scruff lace edges of your panties before laying his palm out, cupping your mound into his hand possessively.
His round nose brushes your cheek as he just holds patiently, grinding ever so slightly against where you need it most. Jungkook’s tongue comes out to take a brief lick at the shell of your reddened ear as his whispered lures taunt you.
“M'gonna be so good to you. You want that don't you? You want me to make you feel good?”
The depth of his fingers circling your tender clit is sufficient for a gasp to leave you, for your lips to seek out his in order to dim down the volume of desire coursing through you. He doesn't respond by engaging in your kiss, rather by slipping his fingers below the cotton to find a small sea to dip in, trail back up to more gratifying touches on your most sensitive part.
“You gotta use your words” he insists, the circles growing smaller, faster against your slickness. Practically coaxing the words he needs to hear out of you, the want much greater than any fear.
There's beauty outside control.
If Jungkook was pretty before, he's striking now. Buried deep between your thighs that he has hooked over his shoulders. Inhaling the scent on you, tangy candy and musk, coating his tongue from the first long stripe he licks up your center. Your thighs tighten, secure in his hands that lock you down on his mouth.
The slow, long licks don't last for long, shift into sharp, short flicks against your swelling clit. Feeling him strum the pad of his fingers against your entrance, you break out into another helpless whimper, tightening around nothing but the sole thought of his thick fingers nestled inside your cunt.
Knowingly, he doesn't push in, keeps sucking on your clit, letting his saliva run down your puffy folds, you know what he needs to hear, you know what he wants you to do.
“Please, put it in - haah”
Jungkook groans, the deep noise vibrating against your soaked skin. One of his fingers slide in slowly, pausing his mouth's actions as the warmth welcomes him in like it had been awaiting his arrival. He uses the pause to listen to his name falling from your lips, appreciating your eyes shutting when, without a warning, a second finger sinks in, curling both digits upwards deliberately.
“You're so good, look at you” he mumbles, plunging his fingers in and out of you slowly enough to feel them drag against your walls, making a mess with relentless laps on your clit.
“I - fuck i'm gonna come” you squeak, tugging the strands of his hair weakly, your lower stomach is full to the brim with pressure, a large wave of pleasure tips right over you, swimming into his mouth greedily.
“That's it, come right into my mouth” he moans, licking up every drop of delightful pleasure spilling from you. Your taste hits him all at once, eyes closed and frowning for more. He doesn't stop you, lets you rock your hips into his mouth, unfiltered.
“Needy fucking thing aren't you? Not enough?” he huffs, rising back to his original position of hovering over you. Flushed, trying to suppress the panting and submission. Red looks elegant on your face, his thumb traces the color in adoration, watching the pupils dilate in your eyes.
He looks just like you do, exhales heavy and raw, desire replacing the blood in his veins.
The tension winding in his toned stomach snaps at the brief, careful touch of your warm hand on his bulge. Hard, straining aggressively. Your hand rests there, feeling out his thick shape, his length below your fingers.
“I need to feel you” he breathes out, permanently etching the words into your brain despite how softly they were spoken. Quickly returns to smash his lips onto yours with a rough kiss as if to consume you whole, passing the taste of yourself onto your tongue.
“Lift a little f’me”
One of his many pillows slides under your stomach, the imprint of his hand burning your bare hips, knees rooted in his sheets. Jungkook takes a shaky inhale, gathers your hair into his hand to reveal the curve of your spine, there for him to kiss reverently.
“Fuck, you’re soaking” he bites down on his lip, a groan ripping from his throat at the sinful sight below. Your thighs gleam, the same shine coating his heavy cock as he grinds it through your folds, slapping the pink tip against your glossy, tight hole once, then twice.
“Thaaaat’s right, take my cock so well”
Praise soothes the stretch he’s giving you, building a cozy home inside your body to reside in. You know now, that you want it all. His heart, his mind, his body craving itself into yours on nights like these. Your hands are planted down securely, though your elbows wobble under his impact.
Pushing in further until his pelvis makes contact with your backside. At the first feel of him, entirely sunken into you, intertwined, both of you remain melodically silent.
He adjusts the position of his hips, angling until a spongy, soft spot nudges his tip - and starts moving his hips. Deep with a craving for connection in this messy pleasure. It’s been so long since he felt himself burn with another person, smell the sex in his bedroom and enjoy the taste of salty sweat and sweet skin to skin.
“Good, so so good” your broken words buzz inside his head, making the deep and rhythmic ruts get sloppier. Moans, groans and whines come together in harmony, loud, shameless.
“Suck on it baby, c’mon” Jungkook threads his strong arm around your throat, holding his thumb on your plush bottom lip. When you don’t open your mouth right away, too lost in the vast ocean of pleasure, he shoves it past your lips - grinding against the wet muscle.
Your lips close around it instinctively, mindless callouts muffled by sucking just like he’d ask. Your obedience sparks him to thrust deeper, pushing your body back into him gets you another reward - his wet thumb finds your oversensitive clit, stimulating it wildly. No direction, no even movements as he seeks you out and you keep calling for him.
“I’m gonna come jungkook”
“You're gonna hold it” he gruffly says, taking away the additional pleasure to run his fingers through your hair, pulling your head back at the roots. Your neck stretches - back arching more than either of you thought possible and it stings better than you’ve ever felt it before.
The thorough, overwhelming orgasm building in your body is impendant, you clench on his big cock and whine for him louder,
“Can- can’t, please, mhh- fuck”
“You can, you can. C’mon be good and hold it” he grits out, jaw tense as his hips snap ruthlessly, chasing his own high.
You’re so soft and warm and so fucking tight - the arch of your back clings with sweat against his will and he loves it. The knowledge of you wanting to break all over his cock - all of it comes together to push him over the edge he’s been dancing on. He’s falling fast, closing his eyes for one last time to pull the strings of his voice together,
“Let go for me, let go baby”
“Fuck” he whispers, pumping his cock into his fist, right after feeling you gush on him. He throbs in his own hand, then you feel it - sticky, warm as it leaks down onto your back, drips down while he’s attempting to catch his ragged breath. Your knees finally give out - with a long, tired sigh, your sore chest makes contact with his bed, head buzzing, aware of your body’s heat and unaware of the look in his eyes, the heaving of his broad upper body.
Footsteps sound behind your closed eyes, inching closer to you. He places the damp towel on your spine, wiping away the traces of his cum, kisses the spot after, pats your butt like he had every right to that normalcy.
The normalcy of laying down next to you, wrapping his still bare body around yours - heart beating against your back. You still don’t see him, your open eyes scan his colorful tattoos contrasting your skin.
“Are you feeling okay?”
His voice is rough, the aftermath of what you did audible, louder in the proximity of his mouth to your ear. You give something close to a nod, a mumbled yes in response. You are okay. More than okay.
“Not too rough?”
“No”
“No?” he buries his nose into your neck, mumbling your words back in a question.
“No,” your body moves before you could stop it from happening and finally, after everything, you’re looking straight at him.
“Was perfect”
It’s not monday or wednesday today, which is precisely why Jukyung is confused for the first minute of seeing you take your jacket off.
It’s saturday, his dad has a day off and is wearing black sweats and a dark grey t-shirt. So he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
What matters though, is that his favourite person is in his home unexpectedly, so he runs up to you, flinging his arms around you in a rush.
"Noona! "
“Hey there” you greet back, returning the hug. Jungkook watches with his arms crossed and his head slightly tipped to the side.
The confusion in Jukyung’s eyes returns when you give the same greeting to his dad - allowing him to sneak his arms around your waist. This is new.
“We’re having movie night, i told you buddy” Jungkook says, reading the question off his child’s lips. He did tell him, however, Jukyung naturally assumed it would be on the following Monday. Not a boring, 7pm saturday - an hour before his technically strict bedtime.
“You decide on a movie while appa and i make snacks yeah?” You add, smiling at Jukyung warmly. Behind you, the older man waits impatiently, holding the edge of the door in his hand. Jukyung nods, taking charge of the remote to select a movie - all three of you knew what it’d be, you’ve been unsuccessful in redirecting his favourite ghibli movie.
“Missed you” Jungkook mumbles against your lips, the door mostly closed - shielding you from the curious pair of eyes his son holds.
Smart kid.
You tell him you missed him too, breathing in the subtle perfume on his shirt. His palm holds the side of your face, making an effort to keep your eyes on his.
“He’s used to sleeping early, an hour and he’s dozing off, promise” he says quietly, knuckles grazing your powdery soft skin,
“I know” you whisper, closing your eyes to soak up his touch. When Jukyung would find out is still undecided - it hasn’t been long but, sneaking around creates a guilty cloud to float above your heads, raining down anytime the three of you come together.
Jungkook smiles, precious and simple, then leans down again to feel your lips on his to reassure that - soon, you’d tell him soon.
A gasp erupts in the silence but neither of you are the cause of it.
Or.. right now.
“Appa - you’re -” the childs eyes widen alongside his big, toothy smile.
“Kyungie - listen to me-” you start - frantically turning to him while Jungkook shuts his eyes tightly, accepting their dooming defeat.
“Appa likes noona, Appa likes noona” Jukyung sings loudly, skipping around the kitchen.
Tags: explicit sexual content, switch!jungkook🤤, the duality is crazy, blowjob, curvy dick, she calls herself his fuck toy, no gagging(period), slapping her face with his COWK, hes ROUGHHCHFJJD(a lil bit), he just slapped her face omg, tears, cum swallowing
Mdni 18+
The sound of the running water echoed quietly through the bathroom. Steam gathered quickly, fogging the glass and leaving a thin layer of moisture over the tile. The air is heavy with the scent of vanilla body wash and something very musky, very manly.
Jungkook was standing under the main showerhead, his head bowed down, eyes closed, one forearm braced high against the wet tile. Water slides down the hard lines of his chest, over the defined ridges of his abs, tracing the deep lines of the V-lines that point down where you kneel.
You’re on your knees on the textured shower floor, the heat of the water spattering your back and shoulders. The sight of his cock, thick and fully erect, curving proudly upward his hard, trembling stomach. A pearl of precum leaks from his pink tip, glistening even in the fogged air. It makes your mouth water.
“Please..” he whispered, voice barely audible over the steamy rush of water. He leans back against the tile behind, arching his abdomen towards your face, as he gazed down with a pleading eyes, desperate for the feeling of your mouth on him.
Although, you very much enjoy edging and teasing Jungkook to submission, but you’re very desperate for his taste as well. You don’t wanna wait longer, so you lean forward and take him into your mouth in one smooth, deep motion.
A broken, guttural moan tears from his throat, raw and needy. His hands, which were loosely hanging at his sides, planted against the tile behind him, shoulders still resting against the wall. His knuckles turn white. His hips arch towards you, rutting his hips into your mouth, yielding to the sensation, as if your mouth is a gravity he cannot and does not want to resist.
You let him move into your mouth, establishing a rhythm that’s relentless, hungry, and needy. Hes a whimpering mess. Hes so loud, keening moans and words barely coherent slipping out of his mouth. His eyes are trying so hard to stay open, but the sensation is driving him wild. Your mouth feels so heavenly.
“Mmh..ah yesyesyesyesyes-” his breathing so heavy and hot, it sends a electric, warm sensation through your core. So you hollow your cheek and suck, hard.
Your head bobs, your lips creating a tight, wet seal as you move back and forth. The sounds are obscenely perfect in the steamy enclosure: the slick, wet pop as you pull off the head, the choked, heavy breaths from above, the low, continuous moan that seems to vibrate from his very core. His legs shaking as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head, your hand holding him still as you nudge the slit with the tip of your tongue.
“Stop stop stop stop-“ his hands fly off the wall, yanking your head away, “I almost fucking came,” his thighs are trembling violently, chest heaving up and down fiercely. A breathless laugh escaped him, “Don’t do that, baby. You know.. i cum.. so fast like that,” breath still heavy between his words.
“My bad, you taste and sound so good.” You muffled through your squished cheeks, his palms unknowingly holding your face tight, they are trembling with his whole body. Damn, that tongue motion got him so bad, but you need his cock in your mouth again.
“Please, kook,” you whine, your hands gently parting his away from your cheeks, “fuck my face, use my mouth.”
You move forward again, but this time you nudge his pelvis, peering up at him pleadingly. You want him to completely use you, you want him to own your mouth and fuck it till you pass out.
“Oh baby, look at you,” he’s smiling devilishly, fingers threading through your wet hair, nudging you close to him, the other holding his dick up your face, watching your lips parting obediently.
“You want it?” He teased, slapping his heavy girth against your cheek, “you wanna taste my cum, don’t you” his voice getting rough, along with the hand in your hair. Fingers tightening, as he gently rock his hips onto your mouth.
“Please.” His cock sliding back and forth your open lips from the side, laving the hard throbbing veins along his shaft. You love when he is like this; completely owning you, using you how he please. And you take it every time, always happy to be his living fuck toy.
He finally slid his cock inside your mouth in a slow, steady motion. Still sensitive from his tip, moving his hips intentionally. His other hand feeling your neck, as his cock slide in and out of your throat.
“Fuck, you feel that?”
Slap!
“Answer me.” He knows you can’t speak, but he wants to feel the vibration of you trying to let out noises with his cock down your throat. So you whimper, a very long moan just to feel his hips shake under your hands.
“That’s it, keep moaning.” Voice trembling from the sensation, his movement getting faster, rolling his hips so intensely.
His eyes are dark, droopy with lust, glazed and drunk. His mouth wide open, never shy from slipping filthy noises. Hes looking at your face, watching your eyes well up from the overwhelming sensation.
You continued to moan his name around his cock, sensing his orgasm from his heavy chest and the way he trembles, taking the lead and bobbing you head.
“Fuck, just like that. Don’t stop,” His grip in your hair tightens. “Gonna come,” he warns, his voice shaking. “Baby please... gonna cum.”
You hum in answer, the vibration drawing a broken shout from him. You increase the pressure, bobbing faster, your own need coiling tight between your legs, ignored but pulsing with every beat of your heart.
“Please… take me..” god how much you love this part, him whimpering and pleading you to take his cum, his voice getting loud while his hips rutting in tiny, uncontrolled thrusts as he reach his peak. You could cum just from the sight of it.
A hot, bitter flood spills into the back of your throat as he grinds himself deeper, his hips stuttering. You swallow eagerly, taking every drop as he empties himself with broken moans, his body bowing over you.
For a moment, there is only the sound of the shower and his heavy breathing. Then, slowly, he softens in your mouth. You pull off with a final, gentle kiss to the tip.
He looks down at you, utterly spent, his expression a mix of awe and raw hunger. He sinks to his knees in front of you, the water crashing over both of you now. His hands cup your face, kissing you so deeply, his tongue swiping against your wet lips, tasing himself on you.
when it comes to love, she could be an all-nighter (nuts, pt 1) | k.nj
idol! namjoon x fem non-celeb! reader
ᝰ nuts masterlist
rating/genre: slight? age gap (reader is 22, namjoon is 31), located on the las vegas strip, angst, fluff, idol namjoon x non celebrity reader, reader doesn't know who he is, confident!bold reader, joon is very dominant and possessive (and lowkey a whore), nicknames, porn with some plot
summary: reader has NO IDEA who namjoon is. during a late night on the vegas strip, a stressed namjoon goes to his hotels rooftop, only to find a girl smoking a cigarette there. he asks her for one and the rest is history.
warnings: sexual themes, explicit & descriptive smut MINORS DNI 18+ hard dom namjoon, age gap & size kink, public sex, unprotected sex, soo much dirty talk, cigarettes and drinking, shotgunning, edging/teasing, fingering, oral, cowgirl, missionary, like a lot of positions actually
word count: 3.8k
this is who nuts was written about, iykyk
i’m on some random resorts rooftop, wine drunk, smoking a cigarette. just like the hangover, which I’ve watched a billion times.
the wine is sweet, most importantly cheap. my motto is all alcohol gets you to the same place.
i’m zoning out looking at the view when the door to the rooftop clicks open, i freeze, maybe someone found out im not supposed to be here. i don’t dare turn around but instead smoke my cigarette a little faster.
i hear it slam shut, footsteps making its way to where i am. i really hope i don’t have to throw this cigarette away if i get kicked out.
“can i have one?”
i turn to the voice that said that and sigh in relief that it’s not someone trying to get me out of here
“they’re 305s is that alright?”
“as long as it’s a cigarette”
this guy knows what’s up
i give him one and light it up for him
“i like 305s better than american spirits, which is apparently a controversial opinion according to any of my friends or the widespread public. but i just think american spirits are way too strong” i yap and yap and yap
“i actually don’t even know what any of that means. i’ve never had anything but korean cigarettes” he says
“oh, are you korean?”
he hesitates for a moment before replying “yeah”
“i’ve never had korean cigarettes and this is your first american one, guess you owe me one now”
he looks at the ground before saying “i like this one”
he’s being so dry but i guess that’s how people are. i have no filter, or shame for that matter, so i really just talk anyone’s ears off, even if they seem like they don’t want anything to do with me.
i take another swig of my wine, half the bottles already gone
i’m not quite sure why he’s still standing next to me if he doesn’t want to entertain a conversation, but i still need entertainment so i keep talking, “so are you like from korea, like living here or do you still live there?”
“i still live there, im just here…” he takes a drag slowly and blows it out before continuing, “…on business”
he turns his whole body, which was previously preoccupied with looking at the view, to look at me, “what are you doing in vegas?”
i turn too, “the wind blew me here”
i can’t help but notice how tall he is, and how his dimples are so evident even though he’s far, far away from smiling
at this point i’m tingly and smiley from the wine and previous drinks i had. im sure i look somewhat like a whore right now, wearing a backless halter dress, it’s silver and has some sparkle to it. the hoop earrings paired with the fact that i’m leaning into a cute stranger with a half empty bottle of wine in my hands ties everything together
“do you want some? rude of me not to even ask” i giggle while handing him the bottle and he very unexpectedly smiles at me and i get to see what his dimples actually look like
he takes the bottle from my hand and chugs a good amount of it
i hope this will make him less stressed out
“wow that wine is terrible” he says, “but i liked it”
i laugh and press my body on the wall, enjoying how cold it still feels, “yupppp, cheap wine”
“how old even are you?” he asks
“twenty two, what about you? i reply
“thirty one”
“we got an old man over here”
i laugh but he doesn’t
he stays looking at me with a look i can’t quite place. i know when guys wanna fuck me and i know when they hate me, but the way he’s looking at me is somewhere in between or maybe not even on that chart at all
i get annoyed trying to figure it out so leave to sit down on the outdoor couch
and for some reason he follows me there,
then sits down too close next to me,
then i make up some lame excuse how i need to stretch out my legs just so i could put them over his lap
for a split second i think i must be making him uncomfortable and i move to get my legs off his lap,
but then his hands are pushing me back then and one of them is a little too high up in between my thighs
it really feels like we’re just an adventurous couple, out in vegas, but i actually don’t even know his name
“i’ve had a day” he says
“i could tell”
“damn, was i that obvious?”
“you weren’t friendly at first, i’ll tell you that” i answer, “but now you’re getting real friendly”
his hand squeezes around my thigh when i say that,
“where are you going dressed like that?” he asks
“well, i was planning on going to the club next to ceasers palace but i just wanted to pregame a little before i went…” i pause and trace his bicep, “…but now im not sure i’ll even make it there”
i’m not sure he’s picking up on the hints im dropping at him. i don’t usually hook up with random strangers but it might seem like i do to him, i mean after all he doesn’t know me and i don’t know him. for all he knows im fucking everyone i come across.
i get a little insecure about this, so i take my legs off of his lap and pull my knees to my chest
but that only makes it worse because im wearing a dress.
out of frustration of how i might be perceived i say “i dont usually get that close with people i just met by the way,”
i look at him in the eyes to make sure hes listening to me
“never thought you did, princess”
my face rests my knees, i keep looking at him and he keeps looking at me,
then his hand travels to my bare back and traces up my spine
surprisingly, i don’t shiver. we just keep looking at each other
he’s so… large
like in a man way, he’s tall and he’s buff and if he was my boyfriend i know id never have to worry about anything ever again, because he’d be there to guide me through the crowds and open all the doors
and fuck me properly
but i’m getting way ahead of myself here and before i can really start to daydream about the man right in front of me he mumbles
“today was rough, you were right”
“tell me more” i reply
“just some bullshit with… weird people. my job isn’t difficult in the traditional way but in other aspects, it’s the most complicated one out there”
i want to ask him what he does but i figured if he wanted to tell me he would’ve by now
“but that’s enough on my part, what’s going on with you?” he continues
you’d think were old friends catching up with the way he said that
“you know, just the usual, kids and the husband” i reply sarcastically, knowing i’m so far away from having either
he gets the joke, thankfully, and laughs
his voice gets deeper and it hits me like a brick when he says “i miss your legs on my lap, get back over here”
-
after my whole bottle was drank, me and this cute stranger are talking about our whole lives
he tells me how he learned english with the tv show friends, i tell him how ive never watched it
“what? how have you never watched friends? it’s like more famous than jesus himself”
i giggle and say “yeah but that’s worse than not even knowing what sex and the city is!”
he shakes his head while laughing, we’re both wine drunk and it’s the best feeling ever
i bring another cigarette to my lips and as im fiddling with the lighter he pauses me and lights mine with his
“i didn’t even know you could do that”
he smokes the last of his before putting it out and saying “you know what else you can do?”
“what else can i do”
he takes my freshly lit cigarette, inhales a long drag, grabs my face and blows the smoke into my mouth
i’m only shocked for a second before i snap back
“oh but you know what else i can do?”
“what else can you do?” he replies
i take a drag from the cigarette between his fingers, blow the smoke on his neck, then suck the little vein that goes along it
“i’m seeing a lot of things you can do…” he says, “…but i think you need to see what i can do”
“hmm, okay cute stranger, and what’s that?”
he gives me back my cigarette and slides his hand up my thigh, higher and higher until i break eye contact
i really don’t regret being so bold when we first sat on this couch
“tell me about the last guy that made you come”
i look up at him again, “really good, he was tall… i really love tall. he fucked me really good too”
i know most girls couldn’t say great things about their sex lives, but i somehow got lucky to have had all the guys i’ve slept with cared about getting me off
his hand kept going higher
“he knew what he was doing, he treated me really well… knew every last inch of my bo-“
i get cut off by him pulling my thong to the side and running his fingers up my cunt
“cmon princess, keep talking”
well now i fucking can’t
he’s rubbing his fingers on me so good i can’t even think
i open my legs a little more out of pure desperation, lifting my hips up so he can get the signal to take my panties off
but he doesn’t, in fact he stops all together. and just as i’m about to get mad at him he takes my hand and stands up, leading me back to the wall we met at
he places me with my back against it, gets on his knees and lifts up my dress, hooking his fingers on the sides of my thong and slowly, so fucking slowly, pulling it down
i could genuinely drool at the sight of him on his knees
he grabs the back of my knee and swings my leg over his shoulder and kisses my inner thighs, over and over
i let out a shaky whine when his tongue is finally on my clit, my hands instinctively tangle in his hair and my legs feel weak
but he’s there holding me up
his tongue feels so good, he’s really taking his time with me despite the fact anyone could walk through that door
he’s alternating between flexing and flattening his tongue. it all feels so good and then he adds two fingers and i lose it
the wine drunk part of me is a whining (no pun intended) mess, but the wine drunk part of me is all of me right now
“my legs are so weak i don’t know if i can stand up with you making me feel this good” i say
“hm, can’t handle my tongue on your pussy?” he mumbles against me and i whimper
“shut the fuck up, you’re so cocky…” i say, “i can handle it”
he stops what he was doing so fast and stands up, “who do you think you’re talking to like that you stupid fucking whore”
i’m looking up at him, both angry and turned on, he’s so tall and big he blocks everything else so all i can feel and see is him
“good girls stay quiet and let their man make them feel good,” he says while sliding his fingers inside of me once again
i’m out of breath by how good his fingers feel in me, everything he’s doing is so good,
but i’m a brat so i say “my man? i don’t even know your name”
he keeps pulling his fingers in and out of me, staying so close to me i can feel his heartbeat
it turns me on how much taller than me he is
his fingers slide out of me to softly tap at my clit
“i don’t usually do this either, but do you want to go to my room?”
i force myself to make eye contact with him then get on my tippy toes to whisper in his ear “only if you promise i won’t be able to walk tomorrow”
just like that my legs are around his waist, we’re making out and he’s fumbling for the card to his room, mumbling something like “it was just in my pocket” before finding it
when he finally unlocks the door, he puts me down on the desk, my panties are somewhere but i’m not quite sure where
i reach to take off his belt and he tries doing it himself but i slap his hand away, “nuh uh, let me take it off”
“you’re such a brat” he replies
“weren’t you just calling me a princess?”
“most princesses are brats, you’re proving me right”
his belt is in off and in my hand and i jokingly slap it on the desk, he smiles and tells me he’s going to ruin me tonight
i push him back until his knees hit the bed and im on top of him, im straddling his hips while my hands are going up his shirt.
his hands are all over me, bunching the dress above my hips, going under it and squeezing my nipples
“oh fuck, ohmyfuckinggod” i moan
“you like that, huh?”
i nod rapidly, my nipples have always been sensitive. he flips me over, concerningly easily, so he’s on top.
if i didn’t have a weird sense of trust with him i would be concerned about his ability to hurt me. but that turned me on in a way, i knew he was never going to lay a hand on me in a harmful way.
he was here to make me feel good, and i could tell he needed to fuck
“let’s see how pretty your whimpers can get princess”
he bites down on my nipple so softly, yet it makes me feel everything. my moans have never been loud or over the top, the expectation for good sex is loud pornographic moaning but that’s just not true, and he got that so well. he knew how to get genuine sounds out of me, the kind of moan that’s a whimper because of how good it feels.
“can you please please please put your dick inside of me already?”
“since you asked so nicely”
he starts talking his pants off in front of me, i get on my knees on the bed and let him slide my dress off. now he’s just in his boxers and i’m so wet. i rub him through the fabric, he feels painfully hard, like i’ve never felt a dick be this hard before.
“you’re so hard for me”
“i’ve been wanting to feel you around me ever since you lit up my cigarette”
“hm, so like four hours ago?”
he responds by taking off his boxers
wow
how is that going to fit in me?
two of his fingers already made me lose my train of thought… this is going to break me in half
“you’re fucking huge, holy shit…” i say “…my pussys tight, you’re gonna break me”
then he lets out the darkest laugh i’ve ever heard, my core tightened at it and every sense i had tingled
maybe i wanted him to break me
“guess ill just have to fuck you nice n’ slow princess” he says while guiding me back on the bed. he gets on top of me again and rubs his tip against me, i gasp because this man has been teasing me for hours now and i’m so turned on and i need him to ruin me.
“nice n’ slow? maybe in the morning… but right now, tonight, i need you to fuck me properly” i say, not daring to break eye contact with him
he stops, breathing shortening
“i don’t need you to be polite. i need my pussy to be ruined, i need you to be rough. bruise me, choke me, use me. pound into me”
he still isn’t moving, it’s like i’ve short circuited the mother board
“you don’t know how bad i needed to hear that”
it’s truly beautiful when two people have sexual chemistry. when you both want and are into the same things
but what’s even more beautiful is when a girl needs to get pounded into the mattress and a boy needs to pound a girl into said mattress. when a girl is stressed and a boy is also stressed, so he eats her out. when a boy is stressed so he needs to ruin her.
when a random stranger meets a bold girl on a rooftop that she’s not supposed to be at and feels his heart strings get tugged at.
“i’m gonna fuck you so good princess”
and that begins it, he’s pushing into me and i didn’t think i could’ve taken him but i’m so wet that it slides in. it fills me up and i gasp when his tip went in me, and again when he bottomed out.
“fuck, your dick is massive. how do you walk around with that thing on you?”
he giggles and rubs my clit to alleviate the pressure, i keep talking like a broken record
“no wonder you were stressed out, you’re so hard i can’t imagine how frustrating that is”
“your pussys doing me good”
i smile and reach around his back, raking my nails along it, he groans. he feels so good inside of me
“alright now fuck me like you need me”
all the sudden i’m flipped on my back, arched like a cat, and he’s fucking me relentlessly. pounding into me just like i needed him to, just like he needed to.
“you’re so good to me” i whimper out
my face against the pillow, him pinning my wrists against my back, my head almost hitting the headboard. his large, tall frame hovering over me.
“such a pretty fuckin girl, wish i could take you with me everywhere.” he holds my wrists with one hand so he can lean over me and grab my face, he grabs it so hard i’m sure i’ll feel the ache in my jaw days from now.
“open your mouth”
i obey, i open my mouth and he spits in it.
i feel so filthy doing this with someone i met just a few hours ago, but at the same time it felt like i’ve known him for longer. he had a weird reserved demeanor to him, but maybe that was shyness. whatever it was, i feel like it was being uncovered now.
he reaches over to my nipples and rolls one between his fingers, it feels so amazing and all the senses are getting to me. at this point i’m on my hands fucking myself into him. his arms wrap around my waist, i can feel myself close.
his grunts start getting stronger, his thrusts are deeper, and he spills inside of me.
“oh fuck, princess. you’re so good, pussy so good. sorry i came inside you, couldn’t help it, you felt so good”
he slowly thrusts, fucking his load into me so none spills out
by the way he was fucking me, i don’t think he could be reserved about his life after this. he sure as hell deserved something from me after making me feel that good. i turn to face him and say, “let me ride you”
he smirks, looking at me up and down. “i don’t know what i did to deserve you”
i roll my eyes, “sit down, back on the headboard”
“you gonna bounce on me good?”
“don’t fall in love”
i slide down on him, back facing him, hands on his thighs so i can move deeper and faster. this angle is even better, i feel so full.
his hands are holding onto my hips so hard i’m sure ill wake up with a bruise. i just hope ill wake up with a bruise next to him.
“you’re trying to top even when i’m riding you” i turn as much as i can to face him
“what do you mean?” he replies
“i mean that your hands are gripping me so hard if i ever walk out of this room with you and people see us they’ll know i’m yours”
i feel his dick twitch inside of me when i said that
“guess i better bruise you up good then…” he kisses my back, “…so everyone knows you’re mine”
hmm, not so fast. i hop off his dick and say “they need to know you’re mine too”
i turn to face him and sink back into his dick. this new position is really intimate, my chest is fully pressed to his, my arms are around him and his around me.
i stay still for a second before kissing him. all of this feels so real all the sudden. he deepens the kiss that i initiated and intertwines his hand with mine.
i start bouncing again, letting go of his hand and wrapping my arms around his neck. his hands roaming up and down my sides, over my thighs and hips.
we’re tangled up in each other like we’ve never spent a day apart, he’s grunting like we do this every night.
but i know that after this we won’t ever see each other again.
“such a pretty girl bouncing on me” he breathes out
“yeah i’m a fuckin pro rider”
he rubs me the right way and i squeeze around him with a moan, he cums inside of me again
-
“you know i don’t even really like the west coast that much” i say, “i mean i love las vegas, genuinely, but id rather be in new york”
we’re on his rooms balcony, smoking while watching the sunrise. we haven’t slept and we’re both so tired but somehow both still up, just to talk to each other.
“you really need to watch friends, if you love new york you’ll love that show” he replies
his hand has been rubbing circles on my inner thigh, but not in a sexual way; something deeper and softer. so intimate, like we’ve been together forever.
“i’ll watch it” i want to say i’ll watch it for you, i’ll tell you how i like it, but something about knowing him after this feels forbidden.
i don’t know his name and he doesn’t know mine either, i think that’s the way it’s meant to be.
what i’ve learned in my twenty two years of life is that some things need to be left alone, even when it’s bothering you at your core.
even when a hot stranger is making you feel things deeper than you’ve ever felt and you think you could really love him, sometimes you need to let go.
“lets go to sleep, princess”
“let’s go”
a/n : i hope u guys liked this, it's my first bts fic ever and it was inspired by an actual situation that happened to me... LOL!
let me know if you want an epilogue, it'll be heartbreaking and oh so angsty but i'll provide if that's what the public wants.
xoxo, love yall
a/n #2 : uploaded the epilogue… :3
a/n #3 : guys it’s a series now. the master list is pinned on my page ;)
You were eighteen years old when Jimin's name showed up on your hand.
The day is fresh and clear in your memory: early December, the winds stronger than ever as they threatened to pierce through the windows of your room, hints of snowflake dancing in the air as the first snowfall augured an even sharper winter. There was a smile on your face that didn't match the unrelenting coldness of the month, and even though the night was falling and the air felt icy on the tips of your fingers, there was only warmth in your chest as you went through the pictures of your phone.
Pictures of you and Jimin drinking hot chocolate, of clumsy iceskating, of funny faces that made you laugh out loud in the quietness of your bedroom.
The feeling sparking in your chest could be considered somewhat dangerous - after all, you were just a girl that didn't have any marks on her skin, a girl whose fate was yet to be decided. Something as enigmatic as love could be a treacherous thing, too risky for someone that couldn't decide their destiny on their own.
✦ orange tulips by @kainks ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾
soulmate!au, reincarnation au | wc: 10.2k
You’d remember Jungkook with every life you lived. Only he’d never remember you, never recall how your fates were written in the stars since the beginning of time.
✦ the train of lost souls by @inktae ☆ㅤ♡
fantasy au, f2s2l | wc: 13.6k
You can choose to live, to be given a second and a last chance in life, in exchange for your memories and your previous existence. You can choose to be alive again, but it can only be an entirely new life. Everyone you've ever crossed paths with would forget your name. All the pain and the love you knew, all the ups and downs that made you hurt and made you smile - all of it, completely gone.
Or you can choose to move on, to give your life away while keeping your memories until the end of time. To step out of the world of the living and to embrace a new kind of loneliness, but with the warmth of your past always safe between your cold hands.
You are dead, but it's up to you to do something about it.
jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.
alternatively,
"You still are, you know. Worth it." You release a shaky breath. "But I was stupid to think that I am too."
✦ cold nights & blurred lines by @awrkive ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾
fwb!au, college!au | wc: 26.6k
jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it's casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can't help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.
✦ idealizations concerning real life relations by @venusiangguk ☆ㅤ ⏾
fwb au, s2l | wc: 40.9k
jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.
✦ chasing butterflies by @ddaenggtan ♡ ⏾
coffee shop & college au | s2l | wc: 12.8k
you never meant to be a jock in school. the volleyball team had just needed people and you were there and then you had a knack for it. you just happened to be good at it and went with it. similar to how you saw jeon jungkook in your friend’s orientation group and thought he was absolutely radiant and just went with it. for two years. you’ve spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he’s around, but also because jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: the weebs. that is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it.
✦ graveyard shift by @darkestcorners ☆ㅤ
horror, yandere au, vampire au | wc: 8.3k
When you take the graveyard shift at your new job, you expect things to go rather boringly but the quiet night soon turns deadly when you realize you aren’t alone
✦ stars behind waves by @taegularities ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾
vacation/beach!au, f2l | wc: 22.7k
With a decade’s distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realise once again – the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes.
jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.
✦ one night stand by @buryhny ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾
pregnancy au, e2l | wc:200k
as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.
✦ practice by @chryblossomjjk ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾
fwb au, fuckboy au, college au | wc: 32.6k
you usually spend friday nights on your own. tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, jungkook, decides to pay you a visit.
✦ wife trap by @wintrbears ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾
twins au, brother in law au, f2l | wc: 79.4k
Your husband and his identical twin brother are complete opposites, but when the pair are in a horrific car accident together and the nurse asks Jungkook which twin he is, he decides to spare you the heartache of losing your beloved husband by becoming him.
✦ fight for you by @ahundredtimesover ☆ㅤ ⏾
bodyguard au | wc: 80k
Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along
✦ to tame a god by @jeonstudios ☆ㅤㅤ♡ ⏾
supernatural au, wolf au, adventure | wc: 50.4 k
jeon jeongguk is the youngest alpha his pack has ever seen, and they all trust him with their lives. one day, a strange wolf enters his territory. they know it’s not a regular wolf, because just like their own, its eyes shine with the supernatural powers from within. but it won’t shift back to its human form to reveal its intentions.
✦ please love me by @ahundredtimesover ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾
arranged marriage au, childhood friends, ceo kids | wc: 64.3k
to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.
✦ an abundance of luck & sprinkle of hate by @borathae ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾
ceo au, sex worker au, bdsm, s2l | wc : 172.2k
When two souls, with different reasons for why life has broken them, find together, it needs a whole lot of a luck and a little bit of fate to make them see that maybe healing together isn’t as bad as it sounds.
these fics are so, so good! absolute masterpieces. huge shoutout to every author for creating them! i love y’ll so much!!!🤍 also guys, is the format okay? lmk below what you'd prefer!
