WARNINGS -> idol!jungkook x fan!reader, power imbalance (?), fingering, semi public sex, degradation if you squint, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, please lmk if i missed anything because this is long😭
now playing: lady in my life - michael jackson˚.⋆♪
you didn’t know how you were able to meet jeon jungkook.
was fate playing an elaborate joke on you? was it meant to be? that was what you were wondering the moment you saw him.
you had been a bts fan for years. your friends and family rolled their eyes every time you rambled on and on about song meanings, interviews, and just how amazing your bias, jungkook was. how his voice was so beautiful, how infectious his laugh was, how you could get lost in his eyes even through a screen.
though you struggled to admit it, jungkook helped cure your chronic loneliness. it was almost pathetic—weverse lives were warped by your mind into one on one conversations, your lovesick eyes gazing into the screen as you ate dinner, pretending he only had eyes for you.
two nights before you met him, you saw him at bts’ concert in your city. it was fun, the most fun you’d had in a long time. you were in the front, something you ridiculous amounts of money for. it was harmless, low stakes entertainment.
one night before you met him, you were laying in your bed, face mask on, humming the song normal as you tried to forget how perfect he looked under those stage lights.
the night you met him, you were at a club. the harsh, skunk-esque scent of marijuana filled your nostrils and bass-heavy music filled your ears. your friends were distracted, gossiping as you stared at him wordlessly.
that couldn’t be him, you thought. he had to have moved on to another city. he couldn’t still be here. he couldn’t be in the same room as you. this handsome, brunette boy in this club couldn’t be your bias.
but his piercings were too identical to jungkook’s. this man was dressed just like jungkook, and when his right hand reached up to scratch his face—
holy shit. it was him.
you could recognize those tattoos from anywhere. the ARMY, the heart, the various colorful tattoos that you recognized one by one as your eyes trailed up his arm. your mouth went dry.
you had to sit down in your friends’ booth before your knees buckled. this can’t be happening. this can not be happening. you immediately felt self conscious about everything. you didn’t spend enough time on your hair. your dress was so boring. did your makeup melt off? you really hoped it didn’t. you frantically reapplied your lip gloss just in case.
your friend tapped you on the shoulder, “are you okay?”
you tried your best to sound natural, “of course, why?”
“you look like you just saw a ghost,” she giggled.
“i’m fine,” you insisted.
she turned back to the rest of your friend group.
you glanced at jungkook again. he was with some friends, ordering at the bar. he yawned.
you looked away, staring at the wall as you yawned. you swallowed, really hoping he didn’t see that. your fingers fumbled with the hem of your dress.
you couldn’t do this. you needed a walk. “i’m gonna go… get some air,” you blurted to your friends, your voice cracking on the last syllable.
“want me to go with you?” a friend asked.
“no,” you said too fast as you got up and practically ran to the exit.
as you turned to get up, you made direct eye contact with jungkook.
he was staring. not in your direction, not at your booth. at you.
this can’t be happening.
your eyes widened. you scurried towards the door, the number of people around you getting smaller and the music getting fainter the closer you got.
you felt a big hand grab your arm. you almost gasped when you turned to him.
jungkook.
you froze like a deer in headlights, “hello?”
he looked more handsome in person, his silver lip piercings slightly reflecting the dim light. his eyes glistened so perfectly your heart ached. he was everything you thought he’d be and more.
he broke the silence, “you were staring at me.”
“no.” you lied, turning to leave.
“you yawned right after me,” he grabbed your arm again.
“i was tired,” you muttered, “who are you?”
you didn’t know why you asked that. you definitely knew who he was.
his eyes narrowed, “you don’t know who i am?”
you forced a scoff, “should i?”
he shrugged, “you stared at me like you did.”
you tried to step to the side to pass him. he mirrored you.
“i said i was tired,” you muttered.
“and i said you were staring at me.”
you huffed, looking up at him.
big mistake. he was close. your heart pounded.
his skin looked so perfect. don’t stare don’t stare don’t stare—
“what do you want?” you tried to use a demanding tone, but your voice was too shaky.
he looked at you up and down, “still trying to figure that out.”
you bit your lip. he stepped closer. you backed into a wall. big mistake.
“you know, most people just come up and say hi.”
your heart dropped.
“i-i’m not most people,” you softly shot back.
his expression shifted to something softer, more intrigued.
“you just looked…” you started.
breathtaking. divine. amazing.
“weird,” you finished.
“weird?” he echoed.
“yep.”
he stepped closer into your space. you could smell his cologne.
he had a smug glint in his eyes, “you’re nervous.”
your eyebrows furrowed, “i’m not.”
he chuckled, “you are such a bad liar, you know that?”
his eyes shifted down to your lips. your breath hitched. he brushed his thumb against the corner of your mouth, “your lip gloss smudged.”
you didn’t speak. you couldn’t.
“you say you’re not nervous,” his fingers slid from your lip to your wrist, “but why are you shaking?”
you hadn’t noticed until he said it.
“i…” you trailed off.
he grinned, and it was probably the most beautiful thing you’d seen in your life.
your breath stuttered. stupid, traitorous warmth spread through you.
“you’re weird.”
“you grabbed me first,” you grumbled.
“yeah,” his eyes flicked to your lips again, “i did.”
and then he kissed you. no warning, no buildup, he just kissed you.
none of this felt real. you wondered when you would wake up in your bed, realizing you had the best dream of your life.
you kissed him back harder than you thought you would, hands finding his face and pulling him closer. he obliged, deepening the kiss.
when he pulled back for air, he didn’t go far. his forehead almost touched yours.
“you always kiss strangers like that?” he asked.
your brain stalled. you almost laughed. if only he knew.
“do you always grab girls in clubs like that?” you muttered.
his grin didn’t falter. if anything, it softened, eyes flicking over your face like he was trying to memorize it.
“only the ones who stare at me like that.”
your heart fluttered stupidly at that.
his hands were still on your waist. he hadn’t moved them. you hadn’t asked him to. the music thumped faintly through the walls, but out here it felt quiet. too quiet. like the world had narrowed down to just this. his hands, his breath, the way he was looking at you like you were something worth figuring out.
you swallowed, your gaze dropping to his lips again. big mistake. his thumbs stilled against your waist.
“…you’re doing it again,” he murmured.
heat flooded your face. you looked away quickly, shaking your head.
“i’m not…”
“you are,” he said softly, like he wasn’t even teasing anymore.
your chest felt tight. this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. you weren’t supposed to be here, pressed against a wall, being looked at like this by someone you had spent years—
“what’re you thinking about?”
“you’re just—” you cut yourself off.
he tilted his head slightly. “just what?”
perfect. beautiful. everything.
“annoying,” you finished weakly.
he huffed out a quiet laugh, but his eyes didn’t leave your face.
“yeah,” he murmured, unconvinced. “that’s not it.”
you didn’t respond.
you couldn’t.
because the longer he looked at you like that, the harder it was to remember how to act normal. how to pretend you didn’t know the way his voice sounded at three in the morning, soft through a screen. how to pretend this wasn’t something you had imagined a hundred times before.
his hand shifted slightly, sliding a little higher on your waist. not enough to be inappropriate, just enough to make your breath catch.
“you don’t act like you know me,” he said quietly.
your stomach dropped.
“because i don’t,” you whispered.
another lie.
he studied you for a long moment, eyes searching your face like he was trying to catch you in it.
“…right,” he said finally, but he didn’t sound convinced.
your heart pounded. say something. anything.
“why did you follow me?” you asked instead.
his lips curved, just a little.
“you ran away.”
you blinked. “i didn’t run.”
“you did,” he said easily. “and you looked like you were about to pass out.”
you felt your face heat up again. “i was fine.”
“mhm.”
he didn’t believe you. of course he didn’t. you let out a small breath, your shoulders relaxed just a little despite yourself.
“i just needed air.”
“so did i,” he said.
you frowned slightly. “you seemed fine.”
“yeah,” he said, eyes flicking down to your lips again, “but then i saw you leave.”
your heart skipped.
oh.
oh.
you didn’t know what to do with that. the silence stretched again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was… heavy. warm. like something was building between you and neither of you wanted to be the one to break it.
his fingers flexed slightly against your waist.
“what’s your name?” he asked.
your breath caught. this was it. this was where it became real. this was where you ruined everything. you hesitated.
his brows pulled together just a little, like that wasn’t the reaction he expected “what?” he said softly.
“i just…” you trailed off, your voice small. “i don’t think i should.”
he blinked, surprised.
“why not?”
because if you told him, this would end.
because if you told him, he might realize.
because this—whatever this was—felt too good to be real, and you didn’t want it to stop.
you shook your head, looking down.
“i just don’t want this to be weird.”
he watched you carefully, something shifting in his expression again. softer. more serious.
“it’s already weird,” he said quietly.
you let out a small, breathy laugh.
“yeah,” you admitted.
his thumb brushed lightly against your side, absentminded.
“then don’t tell me,” he said after a moment. “my name is jungkook.”
you looked up at him, surprised.
he held your gaze for a moment before one of his hands left your waist, reaching into his pocket.
your heart stuttered at the loss of contact.
he pulled out his phone, unlocking it quickly before taking your hand—gentler this time—and placing it in yours.
your fingers trembled slightly.
“put your number in,” he said.
you stared at the screen like it might disappear.
this wasn’t real. this couldn’t be real.
“…why?” you asked softly.
his lips twitched, like he found the question funny.
“because i want to see you again.”
your chest tightened.
you glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint that he didn’t mean it.
there wasn’t one. he looked… sure. like this was the easiest decision he’d made all night.
“unless,” he added, quieter now, “you’re gonna pretend you don’t want that either.”
your heart melted completely. you looked back down at his phone, your vision blurring slightly as you typed your number in with shaky fingers.
you handed his phone back to him. your fingers brushed. you almost forgot how to breathe. he glanced at the screen, saving it, then looked back at you.
“mystery girl,” he read under your contact, a small smile tugging at his lips.
you huffed out a soft laugh. “you’re annoying.”
“yeah,” he said, stepping just a little closer again, like he couldn’t help himself, “you said that.”
your heart was beating so fast it hurt.
“i meant it.”
“sure you did.”
his gaze dropped to your lips again. slower this time. more deliberate. your breath hitched.
“i’ll text you,” he murmured.
you nodded, barely. “okay.”
neither of you moved. not really. just stood there, too close, like neither of you wanted to be the first to step away.
his hand lingered at your waist for a second longer before he finally let it fall. the absence felt immediate. cold.
he took a small step back, but his eyes stayed on you.
“don’t run off again,” he said.
you swallowed.
“…i won’t.”
his smile came back, softer this time.
“good.”
and then he turned, walking back toward the door—
before glancing over his shoulder one last time like he wanted to make sure you were still there. exactly where he left you.
・・・・・
jungkook had never dated anyone like you before.
you were strange, a little evasive, but when he finally got you to open up, you were nothing like he expected.
he didn’t think about you in a normal way anymore. that was the problem. it had started as curiosity. this girl in a club who looked at him like she recognized him but refused to admit it. now it had turned into something quieter, more constant. like a habit he couldn’t drop.
you.
you, who still wouldn’t call him first sometimes but always answered immediately when he texted.
you, who pretended not to know things about him and then accidentally hummed songs from his older albums when you thought he wasn’t listening.
you, who acted shy with him like you weren’t always the one trying to get closer to him.
jungkook laid on his hotel bed, phone in hand, staring at your name.
you: are you awake?
it was almost 2 am in your time zone. why were you up? he smiled before he even realized it.
jungkook: what’s up?
there was a pause.
you: i can’t sleep
he exhaled through his nose, turning onto his side.
jungkook: come here then
another pause. longer this time. he could practically feel you thinking through the screen.
you: i’m literally across the country
jungkook: i know
jungkook: still want you here. haven’t seen you face to face in weeks
the typing bubble appeared immediately.
disappeared. appeared again.
he pictured your face exactly in that moment. how your lips would press together when you were trying not to overthink something.
you: that’s not fair
he laughed softly to himself.
jungkook: it’s very fair
jungkook: you started this. want a red eye or do you want your beauty sleep?
another pause.
you: i hate you
he smiled wider.
jungkook: no you don’t
he was right, and you both knew it.
when he flew you out for the first time, you were nervous when you saw him at the airport. you just stood there for a second too long, staring at him like you were trying to confirm he was real.
then you walked straight into him. no hesitation, arms around his neck, face buried against his shoulder like you belonged there.
“hi,” you mumbled.
jungkook laughed into your hair, tightening his hold around your waist.
“hi,” he said back, softer.
you smelled like your perfume and airport air and something distinctly you that he couldn’t describe. you pulled back just enough to look at him.
“you look tired,” you said immediately, voice slightly raspy.
“i just flew twelve hours,” he said.
you nodded seriously. “that’ll do it.”
then you reached up and fixed his hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook froze for half a second. then he leaned into your touch without thinking.
that was the first time he realized it.
you didn’t treat him like jungkook. you treated him like him.
the days blurred after that. you stayed in the city while he was on tour, slipping into his schedule like you had always been part of it.
you didn’t ask for much. you just showed up. you sat in dressing rooms while he got ready, legs curled under you, quietly scrolling on your laptop while he talked around you. sometimes you’d look up and just… watch him.
not in that overwhelming way from the club. in a soft way. like you were learning him.
“what?” he’d ask once, catching you.
you’d blink. “nothing.”
“you’re staring again.”
you’d shrug, unbothered. “you’re interesting.”
that had made him pause.
no one had ever called him that.
not like that.
after shows, you were always waiting.
not backstage screaming. just there. hoodie oversized, hair slightly messy, holding something small for him—water, food, a dumb little snack you found nearby.
he started looking for you in crowds without meaning to. and every time he found you, your face would soften like you forgot everything else existed. that expression did something to him.
every time.
you were strange in a way he didn’t know how to categorize. you didn’t fawn over him. you didn’t ask for pictures. you didn’t even really talk about what he did unless he brought it up.
instead, you talked about random things.
the way clouds looked different in each city. how you thought certain songs felt like specific temperatures. he didn’t always understand you. but he always wanted to.
one night, after a show, you were sitting on his hotel bed while he stood by the window, half-dressed.
you were talking about something ridiculous again. he wasn’t really listening to the words. just you. your hands moved when you spoke. your voice softened when you got sleepy. your eyes kept drifting to him like it was instinct.
“you’re doing it again,” you said suddenly.
he looked over. “doing what?”
you pointed at him. “that thing where you look at me like i’m gonna disappear.”
“i don’t—”
“you do.”
you both paused.
“why?”
he walked over slowly and sat beside you.
the mattress dipped under his weight. he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked at you properly.
you blushed, breaking eye contact.
“you’re different,” he said finally.
you hummed. “that’s not an answer,” you mumbled.
he smiled a little, “it is for me.”
you shifted closer without thinking, like it was muscle memory now. “good different?” you asked.
his gaze dropped to your lips for a second before coming back up. “yeah,” he said softly. “good different.”
you nodded like that was enough. then you leaned your head against his shoulder. and jungkook thought, absurdly, quietly that he could get used to this.
you, like this. you, next to him. you, staying.
and for the first time in a long time, jungkook wasn’t thinking about what came next. he was just thinking about you not leaving.
he was falling, deeper and deeper as the months of the tour passed.
when the it was over, he didn’t even hesitate to fly back with you to your city.
it was bliss. going out on dates, tipsily stumbling into his airbnb, making out on the couch. he felt himself falling for you every time he looked into your pretty eyes. he didn’t want to push you, but he really wanted to come over to your place.
tonight, you two were out at a lounge together, a place you told him was your favorite. you wore the cutest pink top with a skirt that had his head spinning.
you had requested a private room, knowing he’d probably want privacy.
the hostess closed the door behind you, the noise of the lounge softening into a distant hum.
it was quieter in here with just the two of you. you slipped your shoes off the moment you stepped inside, tucking them neatly by the couch before settling down like you’d been here a hundred times before.
“i like this one,” you murmured, running your fingers over the soft fabric of the seat.
jungkook watched you for a second before taking off his shoes and sitting across from you.
“…you come here a lot?” he asked.
you shook your head, smiling a little.
“not really,” you admitted, glancing up at him. “but i thought you’d like it.”
something in his chest shifted at that.
you didn’t say it like you were trying to impress him. you said it like it mattered to you.
you didn’t stay across from him. you never did. after a moment, you shifted, moving beside him instead, your thigh brushing his as you settled in. closer than necessary. jungkook exhaled softly through his nose.
“…couldn’t see me from over there?” he murmured.
you shook your head, blushing softly. “i just like being closer,” you said, quieter now. your shoulder leaned into his. you didn’t move.
your hand found his sleeve again, fingers tracing lightly over the fabric before slipping lower, slower this time, until your fingers brushed his.
hesitated.
then laced with his.
jungkook stilled. your thumb moved over his knuckles, slow, absentminded, but it didn’t feel absentminded to him. nothing about you did.
you leaned in slightly, your chin brushing his shoulder as you looked out at the room, but your body stayed angled toward him.
toward him.
always toward him.
“it’s nice in here,” you whispered. your breath ghosted against his neck.
jungkook swallowed. “yeah,” he said, lower now. “it is.”
that was when you planted a soft kiss onto his neck. then his jaw. then his cheek. he turned to face you, and you captured his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. you pulled back, giggling like you were proud of yourself.
“what’d i do to deserve that?” he teased.
“nothing,” you replied, “just felt like it.”
he didn’t know if it was the drinks or the room, but something about you felt warmer. softer. his hand slid from your hand to your thigh. the skin was smooth.
slowly, as you rambled and you two drank, he drifted his fingers higher and higher up your thigh. you let him do it.
he paused when the back of his hand brushed against your panties. they were soaked through. your eyes widened.
“you’re excited.”
your eyes widened. you buried your face in your hands.
“ah-ah,” he tutted. “let me see you.”
he brought your hands down, your wide, glossy eyes staring up at him.
“that’s my girl.”
your breath hitched. he felt you get wetter. his pants were suddenly tight. he slightly pressed his fingers against your clit through the fabric. you let out a high pant.
“so sensitive,” he teased as he lazily pressed harder.
you squirmed under his touch, your hips shifting in a desperate attempt for more friction. a soft whimper escaped your lips as he continued to tease you through the fabric.
"look at you," jungkook murmured, his voice low and husky. "so needy already. i've barely touched you."
his fingers traced the outline of your panties, deliberately avoiding where you wanted him most. your breath hitched when he finally hooked a finger under the fabric, pulling it aside to reveal your glistening folds.
"all this for me?" he chuckled, his eyes darkening with desire. "you really are something else."
without warning, he slid a finger inside you, and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. your walls clenched around him immediately, drawing him deeper.
"so tight," he groaned, adding another finger. "and so fucking wet. you've been thinking about this, haven't you?"
you could only nod, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to move his fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. his thumb found your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you see stars.
"open your eyes," he commanded, his voice firm but not harsh. "i want to see you."
you struggled to obey, your heavy lids fighting to stay open as waves of pleasure washed over you. when you finally managed to focus on him, you were met with a smug, confident smirk that made your stomach flutter.
"that's it," he praised, curling his fingers just right. "taking my fingers so well."
your response was a broken moan as he increased his pace, his thumb working faster against your sensitive nub. the coil in your stomach tightened rapidly, threatening to snap at any moment.
"not yet," he warned, sensing how close you were. "i want to hear you beg first."
"please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "jungkook, please..."
"please what?" he teased, slowing his movements almost to a stop. "use your words, baby."
"please let me come," you begged, tears of frustration and pleasure welling in your eyes. "i need it so badly..."
he considered you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, without warning, he plunged his fingers back inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again as his thumb pressed firmly against your clit.
"come for me then," he commanded. "all over my fingers."
the permission was all you needed. your back arched off the couch as your orgasm crashed over you, intense and overwhelming. you cried out his name as waves of pleasure pulsed through your body, your walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers. you came hard, soaking them.
“aw, baby,” he teased, slipping his fingers out, “made a mess all in your panties, didn’t you?”
he kissed your forehead, “don’t worry. we’ll have you all cleaned up when we get home.”
you didn’t look disheveled, but there was a distinct haze in your eyes that wasn’t there before. you put your head on his shoulder, your hair brushing against his neck.
when the server came back, he paid the bill without even giving you a chance to suggest splitting, you murmuring a soft “thank you,” planting a kiss onto his cheek, something he was beginning to crave.
the ride to your house was short.
you both were slightly tipsy, but jungkook was coherent enough to drive, one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh.
your apartment was humble and simply decorated. you didn’t give him much time to look at it before you kissed him.
when you walked him to your room, he wasn’t paying attention, more focused on you and deepening this kiss.
the room had posters scattered all over the walls, typical for a young person.
until he noticed one specific one.
it was a bts poster. not just any old picture, he knew exactly when the picture was taken. he was twenty-four, and the group was about to go on hiatus. he was mid laugh, and he remembered namjoon making some joke that cracked him up. namjoon was always funny to him.
his lips lost all rhythm.
you weren’t some girl who didn’t know who he was. you were a fan.
his mind raced. did you plan this? was he stupid? the signs were right there.
his heart dropped.
you never wanted him, you wanted the idea of him. the idea of being with a pop star. jungkook swallowed.
how could he not see it? the way you stared at him in that club. your evasiveness. your nervousness.
he pulled back, your shirt slipping off your shoulder. you responded with a confused look. he just kept staring at the poster.
“jungkook, what—“ you cut yourself off when you saw what he was looking at. your smile dropped.
he looked down at you, and he saw horror behind your wide eyes.
“how long?”
“i…” you trailed off. you looked away from him in an attempt on retain composure, “i was going to tell you, b-but i got scared and…”
you kept going, but he stopped listening. he should be terrified. angry that you didn’t say what you were. storm out of your room and block you.
but your room smelled like cocoa and vanilla.
your eyes became glossy with unshed tears.
and he knew he was in too deep to stay upset.
“…i want you to know that i never cared about the money or the fame, i just wanted—“
he interrupted your trembling words with a kiss. not a normal one—one that said i don’t care. i want you.
your taste was addicting, like the fruity drink you ordered at the lounge. your lips were the softest he’d ever kissed.
he walked you to your fluffy pink bed as he kissed you like he was drinking you in. his tongue explored your mouth freely. you laid back on the bed. he crawled over you.
he couldn’t comprehend it. how could someone like you—someone so beautiful, funny, charismatic, shy, strange, stubborn, perfect—sit in your pretty little room and listen to his music religiously enough to have a poster up in your room?
he pulled back, a string of saliva the last thing that connected your swollen lips to his.
“jungkook…” you whispered.
“baby, you’ve really been a fan of me this whole time?”
you nodded, slightly dazed, “i’ve been a fan since 2018.”
that was when he snapped.
he slid your hands up and under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his torso. maintaining eye contact, you slid his shirt up further and further until he lifted his big arms and let you fully take it off.
you studied him for too long, eyes trailing his wide shoulders and muscular torso. your pupils dilatad. goosebumps crawled up his arms.
he hadn’t ever been more grateful than then that he stayed consistent at the gym.
when he got up to take off his pants, you got the memo and slipped off your clothing.
he turned back to you. you were bare, laying back against the bed. he froze. not because of your body. because of you.
you weren’t trying to be anything. you weren’t posing, weren’t hiding, weren’t performing. you just looked up at him, soft and a little shy, like you didn’t even realize what you were doing to him.
like you didn’t know how beautiful you were.
jungkook’s breath caught in his chest.
for a second, he didn’t move at all.
his eyes traced you slowly, almost reverently, like he was afraid if he rushed it, the moment would break. the soft curve of you against the sheets, the way your hair fanned out beneath you, the warmth in your gaze that was still fixed on him.
“hey,” you murmured, your voice small, a little uncertain under the weight of his stare.
that snapped something in him.
he stepped closer without thinking, slower this time, like he was approaching something fragile. something sacred.
his hand reached out, hesitating just for a second before brushing lightly against your arm.
“you’re…” he started, then stopped, his throat tightening.
he let out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly, almost in disbelief.
“…you’re so pretty,” he finished, softer than anything he’d said all night.
his strong hands flipped you onto your stomach with ease. you let out a soft gasp.
you arched your back almost instinctively. he bit his lip, lining up.
“are you sure you want this?” he whispered.
you nodded eagerly, “i need it.”
that was when he pressed inside. you were so tight, he had to fight the urge to come right then and there.
your walls clenched around him. his vision blurred at the edges. he let out a ragged groan, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. he started to move, a slow, deep rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. each withdrawal was a sweet agony, each return a blissful homecoming. you could feel every thick inch of him, the vein pulsing on the underside of his shaft as he dragged against your sensitive inner walls.
he leaned over you, his hot breath fanning across the back of your neck, the silver of his lip piercing a cool contrast against your flushed skin. "fuck," he let out, his voice a low, strained rumble. "you feel... you feel like you were made for me." his hands, large and warm, slid up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before his fingers tangled in your hair at the nape. he didn't pull, just held you, a grounding, possessive touch that made you whimper.
you pushed back into him, meeting his thrusts, a silent plea for more. he understood. his pace quickened, the sound of skin meeting skin filling your room, a sound that mingled with your soft cries and his harsh breaths. the coil in your belly wound tighter, impossibly tight, a spring ready to snap. "jungkook," you gasped, his name a prayer on your lips as your fingers scrabbled for purchase on your pink sheets. "i can't... it's too much."
"no, baby," he rasped, his rhythm becoming more deliberate, more punishing. he angled his hips, and the next thrust hit that spot deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. "you can take it. you will take it." his free hand snaked around your hip, his fingers finding your clit, swollen and slick from your last orgasm. he circled it once, twice, a feather-light touch that was your undoing.
jungkook knew he was wrong.
he had you bent over on your own bed, your cheek rubbing against your pink pillow as he thrusted into you again.
he looked up at your walls, several bts posters scattered throughout them. your shelf had a stack of albums. he even noticed a cooky plush on your bed.
“sweet girl,” he murmured, tattooed hand gripping your hip to get a new angle, “‘got my posters all over your room.”
a blush crawled up your neck as you arched your back further.
“i wanted this for so long,” you whined.
“i know, baby, i know,” his voice was rough with a cocky edge. he snapped his hips harder to hear the little whimper you let out. “never thought your bias would split you open like this, huh?”
you shook your head.
he picked up his pace. you let out a soft, breathy moan, fingers clutching the soft sheets, voice all sweet and trembling like melted sugar. “jungkook… right there—please…”
he tugged a your hair, “yeah? you’ve been such a good girl for me. saving this sweet pussy just for me? dripping all over my cock because your favorite finally noticed you… so fucking cute. you gonna cum for me? gonna make a mess on the dick you’ve fantasized about for years?”
his filthy words made you clench around him. your voice came out even softer, shy and adoring, almost whispering it into the pillow, “mhm… just for you.”
something in the way you said it; so gentle, so genuinely sweet and full of pure affection. hit him right in the chest. his rhythm faltered for half a second, then he pulled out with a wet sound, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.
“turn over,” he ordered, voice thick but urgent. “now. i need to see your face.”
you obeyed instantly, rolling onto your back with those big soft eyes looking up at him, cheeks flushed pink, lips swollen and parted in a little gasp. your hair was messy against the pillow, and the way you looked up at him, all shy and adoring, made his cock twitch hard.
he pushed your thighs apart and slid back inside you in one smooth thrust, groaning at how warm and wet you still were. “there she is, my girl. fuck, look at that face. so pretty for me.“
you reached up, soft hands cupping his face, voice like honey as he started moving again, deep and steady, “jungkook?”
“yeah?”
“i think i love you.”
he froze. the words hung in the air, delicate and devastating. it wasn't the breathy, sex-fueled confession he was used to, the kind whispered in the dark by girls who loved the idea of him. this was different. your eyes, wide and sincere, held no trace of fantasy. you meant it.
"don't," he warned, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its playful arrogance. he started moving again, but the rhythm was different. slower, deeper, almost punishing. "don't say that."
"but it's true," you whispered, your thumbs stroking his cheeks. "i've loved you for so long. even before this. i just... i never thought i'd get to tell you."
every word was a tiny, perfect needle, pricking at the armor he'd spent years building. he looked away from your eyes, his gaze landing on a poster of himself above your headboard—his younger, softer self staring back. the irony was suffocating. he was fucking his fan on a bed surrounded by his own face, and she was telling him she loved him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"you don't love me," he grunted, his hips snapping a little harder, trying to force the intimacy back into the physical. "you love this. you love the idea of getting fucked by your bias."
"i love you," you repeated, stronger this time, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. "i love your voice. i love the way you laugh. i love how hard you work. and i love how you feel inside me right now."
he cursed, a low, guttural sound torn from his throat. he buried his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning against your skin. he was losing control. this was supposed to be a conquest, a bit of fun, a story to maybe tell the guys later if he was drunk enough. it wasn't supposed to be this. it wasn't supposed to feel like this.
"look at me," you pleaded softly, your fingers tangling in his hair. "please, jungkook."
he resisted for a moment, then slowly lifted his head. your eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but your expression was full of nothing but adoration. it was terrifying.
"say something," you whispered.
"what do you want me to say?" his voice was raw, vulnerable in a way he hadn't allowed himself to be in years. "that i love you too? i don't even know you."
"you know me," you insisted, your voice trembling slightly. "you're seeing all of me right now. this is me. this is my room. this is my heart."
he groaned and kissed you then, hard and desperate. it wasn't a kiss of passion, but of surrender. he poured all his confusion, his frustration, and the terrifying spark of something he refused to name into it. when he pulled back, his forehead was resting against yours.
“fuck,” he rasped between kisses, “i love you too.”
you pulled back. your eyes widened in disbelief, eyes wet with unshed tears, “really?”
“mhm,” he murmured, going in for another soft, wet kiss.
he pulled back, studying you for a moment. his heart ached.
"you're gonna ruin me," he admitted, the words barely audible.
"good," you breathed, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down your temple. "let me ruin you."
he started moving again, his pace now deliberate and intense. every thrust was a question, every drag of his cock against your walls an answer he wasn't ready to hear. he watched your face, memorizing the way your lips parted, the flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes fluttered closed when he hit just the right spot.
"jungkook," you moaned, your hands sliding down through his hair, pulling him closer. "please... come with me. look at me when you come."
he locked his gaze with yours, his hips pistoning faster, the bedframe groaning in protest. the coil in his stomach tightened to an impossible degree. "mine," he whispered breathily in your ear, the words a mix of possession and awe. "my fucking girl."
"yours," you cried out, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you. "only yours.”
the sight of you, completely undone beneath him, calling his name with such raw devotion, was his undoing. he came with a strangled groan, his eyes never leaving yours as he emptied himself into you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.
he collapsed on top of you, his weight grounding you both as you both struggled to catch your breath. the room was silent save for the pounding of his heart against your chest.
after a long moment, he shifted, rolling to the side but keeping you tucked against him. he looked at the cooky plushie squished between your pillows, then back at your peaceful, sated face.
he knew he was wrong. this wasn't just fan service anymore. this was something else entirely. and he was completely, utterly fucked.
“you’re not getting rid of me.”
you kissed his cheek, “good.”
author’s note: it’s finally here! this story was my unhinged baby and i’m glad it wasn’t too unhinged for you guys to like the teaser!!! i hope this lives up to your expectations and thank you for reading🤍
you gained a lot from university; a law degree catching dust in your attic, countless arguments with your roommate about laundry schedules, and a best friend whose biggest fear in life is commitment. in essence, jungkook's world gets flipped upside down when you take a trip to london and he finally realizes his feelings for you...only to find out you've come back with a fiancé.
pairing: jungkook x (fem) reader x namjoon
genre: fluff, angst, smut, f2l au, strangers to lovers au, love triangle au, bestfriend!jungkook, fuckboy!jungkook, baker!reader, photographer!namjoon
rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !
w/c: 63k
warnings: chaotic meet cute, lots of friendly banter, emotional constipation from jk, impulsive decisions made by oc and joon, BRITISH NAMJOON, some unrequited love at one point (right person wrong time), jealousy jealousyyyy, jk does some questionable things for love LMAO, fear of dying alone, some emotional cheating, yearninggggg, crashing a wedding, explicit sexual content; two separate sex scenes, kissing, dirty talk, handjob, oral (m. & f. receiving), breastplay, bigdick!joon, sub!joon, lightdom!jk, switch!reader, unprotected sex, wedding night sex, cowgirl, missionary, creampies.
a/n: FINALLYYYYY HALLELUJAH IT'S HERE Y'ALL 😩😩😩 this fic took me longer than i anticipated but i'm really happy with how it turned out and i hope you all love it as much as i do !!!! it's super duper long and i had to split it into four because of the 1k block limit (which is annoying but it's okay) so sit back and grab some popcorn y'all !! these characters are all a bit flawed and that's okay so please bear with them 🙂↕️ i'd love to hear all of your thoughts and opinions on moh pleassse send all your lovely asks so we can chat because i always love interacting with you guys. and don't forget to like, comment, reblog and ENJOY !! i love you soooo much !!! & banner creds to the lovely and talented @voyter 🫶🏼
main masterlist moodboards spotify playlist moh extras
It's Halloween night on campus, which means three things: a really loud, obnoxious party filled with really loud, obnoxious people, drunk hookups that no one will remember in the morning, and you've locked yourself in your room to avoid all of the above.
The entire university is pulsating with the energy of drunk frat boys in capes, girls dressed in skimpy lingerie calling it their costume, and at least three professors who are far too old to be dressed up amongst the students. You, however, are in your true element: large hoodie, fuzzy socks, a half-eaten Snickers bar on your nightstand, and a thick law textbook open in front of you.
Parties aren't your thing. You'd rather be sued than make small talk with a guy dressed as a ketchup bottle. While your roommate, Jieun, spent hours hot-gluing rhinestones onto her platform space boots for her "sexy astronaut" outfit, you politely declined all invitations and instead declared war on your midterm readings. The only spooky thing in your life right now is the growing realisation that you don't actually want to be a lawyer, the thought that you'll probably die single, and knowing you'll be buried in student debt by the time you graduate.
And honestly? That's still more appealing than the campus party.
You take a break from studying around 2am and finally decide to turn off the light and get some rest. Until the door of your dorm room creaks open.
You pause, blinking your eyes open in the darkness of your room. Maybe Jieun forgot her phone. Maybe she brought back a stray alien from the party. Either way, you don't move, not until the unmistakable dip of the mattress under your legs almost sends your soul flying from your body.
Someone just climbed into your bed.
Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, your heart racing in your chest. It's pitch black, the only light coming from the little slit under the door.
"Jieunieee," the voice whispers, smooth and far too seductive. "Are you ready for the best dick of your life?"
That's it.
You scream as loud as you can, springing straight up. You grab the bottle of Chanel perfume on your nightstand and spray it directly into his eyes.
"AHHH—WHAT THE F—!"
The stranger falls out of your bed with a loud thud, hitting the floor dramatically like he's been shot in a Western.
"What the hell?!" he groans, writhing on the floor with a hand covering his eyes and the other holding his head. "You maced me!"
"That was perfume!" you yell, feeling your heart in your throat, the perfume clutched tightly in your hand, holding it out in case you have to spray him again. "And why are you in my bed, you psychopath?!"
"I was looking for Jieun!"
"You can't just crawl into beds like a raccoon in the night!"
"I thought this was her bed!"
"Do I sound like Jieun?!"
He blinks rapidly on the floor, his voice strained through his agony. "I don't know, it's dark and I was promised a sexy astronaut!"
You switch on the bedside lamp with the force of a woman ready to kill.
And there he is.
Black leather pants. Tight black shirt. Fake bruises and cuts on his face, presumably made with makeup. An eyebrow piercing. Tousled hair. Ridiculously attractive even while clutching at his eyes like he's just been gassed in battle.
Your brain fills in the blanks before he even says it.
"You're Jeon Jungkook, aren't you?"
He lowers his hand just enough to smirk at you. "And you're ___. The infamous roommate I've heard so much about."
You sigh, flopping back against your headboard in disbelief. "Of course she's hooking up with you of all people."
Jungkook is a campus legend. The boy whose reputation includes at least two streaking incidents, three girls who dropped out of the university due to their heartbreak, and a tongue that's done unspeakable things according to the word on the street.
And now he's on your floor, still very much looking like the kind of man your mother warned you about even after being sprayed in the eyes with perfume.
He sits up, rubbing his eyes. "For the record, I've had a lot of entrances, but that was definitely my worst."
"You scared the crap out of me!" you exclaim, tossing your pillow at him. "Who just walks into a dorm and climbs into an unfamiliar bed?!"
"I didn't walk," he scoffs, catching the pillow with an insufferable grin. "I strode."
You glare at him.
He grins wider. "Come on, that was funny!"
"You have a concussion, don't you?"
He wipes his eyes with the heels of his palms, settling on the edge of your bed. "Honestly? If you weren't so terrifying, I'd be impressed."
"Excuse me?"
"You're terrifying," he deadpans. "You sprayed me in the eyes and insulted me all within five minutes. That's worse than most of my Tinder dates. Not by much, but still."
You fold your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him. "Maybe don't go crawling into beds with strangers."
"Technically, you're the stranger," he quips, pointing a finger at you. "And you've maced and verbally abused me. That's a lot for a first impression."
You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Unbelievable. Are you always this irritating?"
"I like to think of myself as…persistently charming," he smiles.
You give him a dry look, your eyes narrowing. "You're the human equivalent of an unsolicited dick pic."
"Oof," he winces, placing his hand over his heart. "Okay, that one hurt. But also...kinda hot that you're this mean."
You blink at him. "Do girls actually fall for this crap?"
"Usually," he shrugs.
"Well, congratulations," you scoff. "You've officially found the girl who's immune to your bullshit."
He holds up his hands in surrender, laughing softly. "Okay, you've made your point. I'm sorry I invaded your bed. I didn't mean to scare you like that. I apologise."
Your face softens ever so slightly, giving him a curt nod. "Thank you."
"But also," he adds, leaning back on his hands, "you're hilarious. And clearly not afraid to defend your space. We should be friends."
You stare at him. "What?"
"Friends," he repeats, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "You and me. I'm serious."
You narrow your eyes once more. "You literally came here to hook up with my roommate."
"Which clearly isn't happening anymore," he sighs, lounging on your bed like he's at a beach club. "But now I've met you. And I like you."
You scoff. "You don't know me."
"I know you don't care about going to a hot party and hooking up on Halloween night, and would absolutely tase someone if you had the chance. Right?"
You pause. That…is not incorrect.
"I also know that girls like you usually avoid guys like me. Which is fair. But still…" He swings his legs off the bed, standing up. "I want to be friends."
"Why would we do that?" you ask, genuinely curious.
He grins. "Because you're the first girl who's actually told me I'm full of shit to my face."
You open your mouth, then close it again, and he takes that as a win.
"Anyway, I'll see you around," he smiles, walking toward the door. "If Jieun asks, tell her I tested positive for an STD or something."
You roll your eyes. "Get out!"
He's halfway out when he turns back and winks. "Nice meeting you, ___."
"Likewise, Satan," you grumble, gesturing for him to shut the door.
He laughs, loud and boyish, and disappears down the hall. And just like that, your quiet Halloween night turned into something totally unexpected.
You met Jeon Jungkook. And he wants to be your friend.
God help you.
The library is dead silent, but your soul is screaming.
You've been staring at the same paragraph in your property law textbook for the past eleven minutes and it's starting to feel unbearable. You've underlined the phrase "freehold estates" three times in three different colours, and it still means absolutely nothing to you. Your highlighter is on life support, your brain is fried, and you'd sell your soul for caffeine.
But instead of caffeine, you get Jungkook. Perfect.
"Hey, bestie."
You flinch so hard your pen skitters off the desk.
He slides into the seat across from you like he owns it, as if you invited him. As if this is a casual meet-up instead of a sacred study bubble you built with blood, sweat, and overpriced stationery.
"Why," you whisper, your eyes narrowing, "are you here?"
He blinks innocently, shrugging. "Checking on my friend. You did say we'd be friends."
You raise a skeptical brow.
He leans in closer, his voice mock-offended and far too loud for the library. "Which is interesting, because I've texted you three times this week and you haven't replied once."
You open your mouth, then close it, unable to come up with a valid excuse.
"I had to force you to give me your number last week when we ran into each other in the cafeteria," he continues, his arms crossed over his chest. "Do you always ghost your friends, or am I just special?"
You groan, rubbing your temples. "I've been busy, Jungkook."
"You probably didn't even save my contact," he mumbles dramatically. "I'm still just a number. I feel so objectified."
You blink at him, fighting the chuckle threatening to bubble up your throat. "You're so dramatic."
"And you're so avoidant. Classic enemies-to-friends arc," he muses. "We're already ahead of schedule."
You roll your eyes, glancing back down at your textbook. You really don't have time for this, but Jungkook props his chin on his hand and looks at you with that annoyingly charming smile of his, like he's got nowhere else to be. Like being here, distracting you, is the most important thing in the world.
You hate how disarming it is.
"You done soon?" he asks.
"I have a property law test tomorrow," you mutter dryly. "So, no. I will never be done. I will die in this library and haunt the footnotes of this stupid textbook."
He laughs loudly, earning a 'shhhh!' from a student two tables away. "What if I bribe you with coffee?"
You look up, contemplating it for a second before going back to the dreaded textbook.
"Not interested," you mutter lowly, though it's not even convincing to your own ears.
"You're clearly tired," he scoffs, raising an eyebrow. "And cranky. And there's a weird twitch in your left eye. Come on, ___. Take a break with me."
You purse your lips, letting out a deep sigh. The twitch is real. And your head is pounding. And caffeine does sound like heaven right now.
"You're really annoying," you mutter. "I mean it."
"I've been told," he grins, rising from the chair like he's already won. "Come on. Twenty-minute coffee break. Your brain cells will thank me."
Against your better judgment, and possibly because you might actually fall asleep in your chair, you shut your textbook and drag yourself to your feet, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
"Fifteen minutes," you grumble. "If I fail this test, I'm blaming you."
"Fair," he shrugs, grinning as he holds the library's door open for you. "But at least you'll have had the best coffee of your life, so it'll be worth it."
The café is warm and noisy, filled with the comforting smell of espresso and baked goods. Students sit hunched over laptops. A barista is arguing with the espresso machine. Someone's crying in the corner over what sounds like an econ midterm.
You're halfway through the line when Jungkook turns to you, holding two fingers in front of the glass display.
"Okay," he huffs dramatically. "Crucial decision. Strawberry muffin or banana cinnamon walnut?"
You blink up at him, your eyes narrowing. "What?"
"I can't decide," he confesses, peering at them like they're ancient artefacts. "I want both but I can't get both. That's too much sugar and fat and I'll lose my abs. A girl licked whipped cream off my abs two days ago. I need them."
You snort, taking a step forward as the line starts moving again. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm serious," he whines. "Pick one for me. I trust your judgment for some reason."
You sigh in resignation. "Do you want nuts?"
"I don't like nuts," he mutters with a grimace. "But I also don't like not liking things. Feels like I'm limiting my potential."
You stare at him like he's actually insane.
He stares at the muffins.
"Banana walnut it is," you nod.
He looks at you like you just sentenced him to death. "Really? I was kinda hoping for strawberry."
"You said you don't like not liking things. Expand your horizons. Live a little. Face your fears. Eat the nut muffin."
He lets out a groan like he's being tortured. "If I hate it, this is on you."
"Oh relax, you'll live," you scoff, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
"What if I die?"
"If you die, I get that expensive laptop of yours."
He nods solemnly. "Deal."
After a long wait that's most definitely over fifteen minutes, you sit down at a corner table by the window, both of you nursing warm drinks. He watches you take the first sip of your mocha like you're some sort of science experiment.
"You were desperate for this, huh?" he chuckles.
"Don't judge me."
He laughs and takes a bite of the banana walnut muffin. He chews slowly, his face unreadable.
You watch him, waiting for the verdict.
He swallows, licks a crumb off his thumb, and looks pleasantly surprised. "…Woah. This is amazing."
You smile, sipping your coffee. "Told you."
"Who knew I liked nuts?"
"I did. You're welcome."
He leans back in his chair and smiles over at you. It's soft, genuine, not the usual grin he uses when he's being annoying.
"I'm starting to think we're meant to be," he quips.
You nearly choke. "Over a muffin?"
"Yeah. You just made a decision that changed my life. This is fate."
You roll your eyes, but your cheeks heat up nonetheless.
He nudges your foot gently under the table, slowly sliding the muffin over to you to taste.
"Thanks for coming with me."
You take a little bite of the muffin, nodding at the taste. "Thanks for the invitation."
And just like that, it starts. A small, insignificant tradition that might mean more some day, but for now, it's just comfortable and easy.
Just…friendship.
—
The kitchen is a mess. There's flour on your cheeks, frosting on your elbow, and a criminal amount of cupcake batter missing from the mixing bowl. Your cousin asked you to bake a batch of vanilla cupcakes for her bridal shower and of course, the new pain in your ass decided to come over to your dorm to 'help'.
"Jungkook," you warn, pointing your spatula at him, "if you eat one more spoon of raw batter, I will throw you out. And no, that's not a threat, it's a promise."
"I'm not eating it," he mumbles, his mouth full. "I'm...quality testing."
"You're gonna get salmonella and die."
"I'll die a happy man because this batter's really good," he grins.
You sigh, scraping the last of the creamy batter into the cupcake liners while Jungkook leans against the counter, licking the spoon you gave him to keep him busy. He has cake batter on the corner of his mouth, and somehow he still looks good. Ridiculously good. Stupidly, unfairly rude levels of good. You pretend not to notice.
"You're supposed to be helping," you sigh.
"I am helping," he says proudly. "You said these are for your cousin's bridal shower. What better way to show my support of the union than selflessly sacrificing my digestive system?"
"You don't have a logical bone in your body."
He grins, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "And yet, here I am, in your kitchen, helping a friend who desperately needed me."
"You invited yourself," you deadpan. "As usual."
He shrugs. "You didn't say no."
You sigh and slide the tray of cupcakes into the oven before setting the timer. The warmth of the kitchen hums around you. It smells like vanilla and feels like a comforting hug in the midst of exams and stress and the impending doom of early adulthood.
Jungkook hops onto the counter, swinging his legs to entertain himself now that the fun part—eating raw batter and watching you stress over quantities of baking powder—is over.
"I still can't believe you made all this from scratch," he murmurs, looking genuinely impressed. "These are, like…actual, professional cupcakes."
You wipe your hands on a dish towel, chuckling. "My cousin's paying me, so that's kinda the point."
He tilts his head, watching you intently. "You're really good at this."
Something in you blossoms at the compliment. He says it so casually, like it's obvious, like it's a fact. It feels good, something you're not sure you've felt before.
You smile faintly and sit down at the little table in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the mess around you; edible flowers, mixing bowls, an empty packet of cupcake liners.
"It's what I love," you murmur softly, a look of tenderness blooming in your gaze.
He raises a brow. "Baking?"
"Yeah," you nod. "Always have. Even when I was a kid. I used to make these terrible little chocolate chip cookies that were more like…burnt rocks...but I'd still force everyone in my family to eat them."
He laughs.
You don't.
"I used to dream about owning a bakery," you add, your voice a little softer, more vulnerable. "Still do, I guess."
There's a pause. He watches you, remaining quiet, waiting for you to elaborate without making a silly comment. You don't look at him, but you can feel it, the shift, his attention going from teasing to genuinely trying to understand you a little deeper.
"But…" you sigh, leaning your chin on your palm. "My parents want me to be a lawyer. That was always the plan. It's respectable. Stable. It makes sense."
"Do you want to be a lawyer?" he asks, his eyebrows knitting together.
You hesitate, letting out a deep sigh. It's as if a gate has opened inside your chest because you don't seem to hold anything back.
"No," you scoff. "Not even a little."
The confession feels heavier than you expected. It feels like you're finally being honest with yourself, which is far scarier than being honest with him. You can ignore his teasing remarks, but you can't ignore that little mocking voice in your head that tells you your dreams probably won't work out anyway.
Jungkook doesn't say anything right away. He just keeps swinging his legs slowly, tapping his fingers against the edge of the counter.
Finally, he asks, "Then why are you doing it?"
You roll your eyes, looking anywhere but his eyes. "Because…I'm good at it apparently...and they expect it. I don't want to disappoint them."
He nods slowly, his eyes downcast.
"You know what would be more disappointing?" he murmurs, his smile barely reaching his eyes.
You tilt your head, looking over at him.
"Waking up ten years from now and hating your life," he deadpans. "And never even trying."
Your chest tightens, your head racing with endless possibilities of a future you thought was already set out for you.
"You're so good at this, ___," he smiles, gesturing to the cupcakes in the oven, the kitchen, the part of you he wants to explore further. "Like, actually good. Not just hobby-good. This is your thing."
You swallow thickly, remaining silent. You don't usually tell people this stuff. You don't usually let yourself say it out loud because then it feels too real. Too scary. But for some reason…with him, it doesn't. You've come to realise he makes you feel seen, which is weird, considering he usually forgets girls' names and faces after a single encounter. This is different, though. You're not a girl he wants to sleep with. You're ___, the girl he wants to hang out with at 2am just because. You're the girl he genuinely wants to spend time with because he enjoys your company, your friendship. You like that. It makes this all feel more genuine.
There's a long beat of silence before you begrudgingly admit the thoughts plaguing you. "You can be really sweet when you're not being an idiot."
He laughs, his nose scrunching up in that way that makes your stomach feel tingly and fluttery. "Don't spread that around. I have a specific brand to maintain."
You laugh, loud and sincere.
"I think you'd make a great bakery owner," he murmurs softly, flicking some leftover flour in your direction.
You wave him off like it's nothing and check your cupcakes, but for the first time since you started studying law, you finally believe you're capable of more than settling, all thanks to the boy on your counter with flour in his hair and sincerity in his eyes.
—
It's almost midnight when Jungkook's phone buzzes on the nightstand. He's half-asleep, sprawled out on his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, one sock missing. He squints at the screen through bleary eyes, seeing your contact name.
He's awake in an instant.
"Hello?" he croaks, already sitting up, his hair sticking up in all directions. He hears the catch in your voice before you even say a word.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, sniffling. "Did I wake you?"
His heart drops. "Are you okay?"
"...Seungcheol...he cheated on me."
Jungkook is already pulling on sweatpants before the word 'cheated' leaves your lips.
Of course. Fucking Seungcheol. You weren't even really looking for love when you met him. He was just a friend of a friend in one of your classes—a smooth talker who carried around a leather briefcase like he was already a full-time lawyer instead of a sleep-deprived undergrad. Jungkook never liked him, always thought he was a bit pretentious, but of course he wouldn't burst your bubble. Looks like he was right about the dick after all.
"I'll be there in ten."
You open your dorm door in your pajamas, eyes red, nose pink. Your expression crumples the moment you see him, and he doesn't hesitate, just wraps you up in his arms, no questions asked.
Even after just seven months of friendship, you cling to Jungkook like a lifeline, like he'll put all your broken pieces together again. Sure, your relationship with Seungcheol only lasted two months but that means a lot to an eighteen-year-old, so there are still a lot of broken pieces nonetheless.
"He said he didn't mean to," you mumble against his chest while you lie in bed together, willingly this time. "Like that makes it better. Like I should be grateful that it only happened once."
Jungkook exhales hard, like he's trying not to yell. "He's a fucking idiot."
"He said I made him feel…small. That I was trying to outsmart him. That I was too independent. That I...made him feel like he couldn't 'be the man', whatever that means."
Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes fierce, his hands cupping your face.
"You are smart. And independent. And so beautiful. And funny. And you make the best desserts in this entire goddamn city. If he couldn't handle that, it's not because you were too much. It's because he just wasn't enough."
Your eyes well up again, tears silently slipping down your cheeks.
"He cheated with a really pretty girl. Blonde. Really big boobs," you grumble.
Jungkook's voice softens, his thumbs stroking your wet cheeks. "Don't compare yourself to some other girl. You are...so fucking gorgeous, by the way."
You snort, shaking your head. "Shut up."
"I'm serious." His thumb brushes away another tear. "You walk around like you're not insanely beautiful, and you think no one notices. But I do, ___."
You stare at him, stunned into silence.
He shrugs, pulling you closer to rest your head against his chest. "Just saying. Don't cry over some knock-off loser when you're literally you."
He stays wrapped around you for as long as you need, one hand gently running through your hair. You sniffle into his neck, your eyes eventually fluttering shut from the warmth and safety of it all.
Eventually, you fall asleep against his chest, breathing steady, a hand loosely clutching his hoodie.
Jungkook remains still, simply looking at you, admiring you in all your glory. Memorising the curve of your cheek against his collarbone. The way your lips part ever so slightly when you dream. The way your fingers curl, even in your sleep, like you're afraid to let go.
He's not the guy who stays for too long. Not the guy who commits. He's built his whole identity around not being that guy, but holding you like this, he kinda wishes he was.
He stares up at the ceiling and sighs, a quiet, hopeless sound.
"I wish I could be the man you need," he whispers into the dark. "But I'm not there yet. I don't know if I ever will be."
And even though you're fast asleep, you still mumble something soft and unintelligible into his chest. You still hold on, and so does he.
—
Your dorm room is lit by a single lamp, the soft yellow glow contrasting violently with the hyper-pink DVD menu of Legally Blonde looping on your laptop. You've watched it a million times before but it's a Friday night and you're having a movie night with Jungkook, so naturally, you're introducing him to one of the classics.
Jungkook is sprawled across your bed, legs crossed at the ankles, one hand buried in a bowl of popcorn and the other dramatically thrown over his forehead as if he's on his deathbed.
"I swear I don't deserve this," he groans. "I mean...I know I call her Number Three but she didn't have to ghost me just because I wouldn't be exclusive with her. I was actually planning on seeing her again and then calling it off, like a gentleman."
You blink, glancing over at him. "Number Three?"
He sighs. "We've been over this, remember? The girl from the accounting party. Short. Cute. Gave me a hickey shaped like a continent. I think South America?"
You stare at him, slowly shaking your head. "You're insufferable."
He brightens. "Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"You say that," he grins, grabbing another handful of popcorn, "but I feel like you secretly admire my dedication to the craft."
"What craft?" you deadpan. "Being a man-whore?"
He gasps, clutching his chest. "You wound me."
"And you wound women," you chuckle.
"Wow. That hurt, ___."
You toss a pillow at him but he dodges like an athlete. Of course he does. Jackass.
Eventually, when the popcorn is half finished and your patience is half gone, you nod toward the laptop screen. "I'm honestly surprised you're not out tonight."
He blinks. "What do you mean?"
"It's Friday," you deadpan. "Your natural habitat is...I don't know...bars, random beds, broom closets. Anywhere but here watching Legally Blonde with me."
He pouts, actually pouts.
"Hey, I like hanging out with you. I cancelled plans to hang out with you."
You scoff, visibly unconvinced. You secretly feel very special and quite flattered, but that has to be too good to be true, right?
He continues casually, "I'm not completely heartless, you know. I have layers. I'm like an onion. A sexy onion."
You snort. "Please never say 'sexy onion' again."
"But it's true!" he insists, nudging your calf with his foot. "I really like hanging out with you. You're fun, easy to talk to, and you don't pretend to be someone else around me."
"And your other girls do?"
"They pretend to like whatever I like, dislike whatever I dislike. It gets boring listening to them just agree with whatever I say."
You roll your eyes. "Poor baby."
He rolls his eyes right back, as if you don't understand how hard it all is for him.
"You know what your problem is?" you ask, adjusting the laptop and pressing play.
"Oh, here we go."
"You don't believe in romance. Or in actual relationships. Or in…anything that requires feelings."
That's not entirely true, but he shrugs anyway. "Feelings are messy. Hookups are simple. Everyone wins."
"Not everyone," you mumble under your breath, your eyes trained on the laptop screen.
He tilts his head, his mouth stuffed with more popcorn. "What's that supposed to mean?"
You ignore his question and push on. "I just…I don't get it. How can you have meaningless sex with someone? Doesn't it feel empty?"
"Actually when I do it, they usually feel very full," he smirks.
You throw a balled-up pair of socks at his face and he catches it one-handed. What a show-off.
"Look," you clarify, sighing, "I'm just saying, I personally...want something real. Someday. Something that actually matters. A person who actually matters."
"Happily ever after, huh?" he teases.
"Maybe," you mutter, growing defensive. "Why not?"
He makes a face as if you just told him the Earth is flat. "Uhmmm...because that doesn't exist."
"You're so dramatic, yes it does."
"You're the dramatic one!" he argues. "You act like the universe is going to drop Prince Charming out of the sky."
"Maybe it will."
"It won't," he laughs.
You sigh, your eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. "You don't know that."
"I do. I know love ends in heartbreak ninety-nine percent of the time."
"So what? You avoid the one percent just in case it hurts?" you challenge.
"Yes," he chuckles carelessly. "And I'm thriving."
You stare at him for a long moment—this beautiful, aggravating, confusing man who can make you laugh until your ribs hurt and then say something that makes you want to shake him.
He has no idea what he does to people.
Especially you.
Especially because lately you've been catching yourself staring at his hands more when he gestures, or the way his hair falls into his eyes while he plays video games, or the sweet, sincere smile he gives you right before he ruins the moment and says something stupid.
You refuse to acknowledge any of it. Crushes on Jungkook are a disease, and you are absolutely vaccinated.
You distract yourself with the movie. Elle Woods is about to confront Warner. Great scene. Then—
His phone buzzes on the bed. Just once.
You don't mean to look but your eyes flick down instinctively while he rambles absentmindedly about the scene playing out on screen.
There's an unanswered text still waiting on the screen from his friend, Seokjin, asking about some business admin assignment. He didn't bother to respond yet. You're sure Seokjin is used to him taking forever to respond to texts, considering they've known each other since high school and now share a few classes together, which you found out on a tipsy Wednesday night when Jungkook decided to share his whole life story with you.
That's not the text that matters right now. The second text is the one that really catches your eye. The number isn't saved, but you don't have to be a genius to know that it's one of his hookups.
xx - xxx [10:32pm]: i had a lot of fun tonight. same time tomorrow ??
He slept with someone. He had sex with some girl literally right before coming over.
Your stomach drops. It shouldn't—not when you've known him for almost a year and you know him to be this way—but it does anyway. It drops because he said he cancelled plans to be with you, but it turns out you're just leftovers.
And now he's here, laughing with you, acting like you're such good company, when in reality you were the afterthought once again. The backup plan. The safe, comfortable option when he's done with whatever girl came before.
You clear your throat. "Your, uhm...your phone buzzed."
"Oh?" he mutters lazily, not even reaching for it. "Probably Jin. He's obsessed with me," he jokes.
You look back at the laptop screen before he can see your face. Your voice is neutral when you murmur, "You should probably respond. Maybe it's important."
"Nah," he shrugs. "I'm here. I'm hanging out with you."
You nod, forcing a smile.
Something inside you clicks—a silent, sharp realisation. This is who Jungkook is. This is who Jungkook will always be. He's funny, and charming, and a little bit addictive, if you're being completely honest.
But Jungkook will never be yours.
He will never be the perfect man for you. He will never be your one percent. So, you bury the tiny, blooming crush before it can grow roots, and you decide firmly, painfully, that a friend is all he'll ever be to you.
And you're sure you can live with that.
Ten years later...
If someone had told you back in university that the chaotic intruder you maced with Chanel perfume would become your favourite person, you would've recommended they seek help urgently.
And yet, ten years later, here you are.
Somehow, despite Jungkook's questionable life choices, endless line of women, and the fact that he once tried to microwave ramen without water, the two of you grew into something solid. Something constant. Something quietly threaded into every part of your adult life.
You grew up together.
Late-night study sessions turned into late-night grocery runs. His hangovers turned into your "you have to stop being so irresponsible" lectures. Your heartbreaks turned into his "give me his address" threats. You were there to celebrate with him when he landed his first high-paying corporate job and he was there to support you when you were grieving your dad's passing.
You became inseparable. A matched set. A pair of platonic soulmates. And in the past ten years, your life took a path younger you would've fainted over.
Sure, you graduated with your law degree and your family was proud, your grandmother bragged to her knitting group, and you spent several months pretending you were totally thrilled to be entering a profession that slowly devoured human souls.
But the truth? You hated it. The corporate offices. The endless contracts. The panic attacks you had in bathroom stalls pretending everything was fine. Law was stable and respectable, but it sucked the life out of you.
Your dream had always smelled like sugar, butter, and rising dough, so one day, with the determination your professors once called "excessive," you quit your job, emptied your savings, fought with your mom for a full year about your life choices, and opened the bakery you always wanted.
Honey & Hearth Bakery; your pride and joy, your entire heart with an overpriced oven attached. The tiny cake shop that eventually grew into a beloved neighbourhood spot with warm lighting, mismatched mugs, cozy booths, and the smell of fresh bread always lingering in the air.
And Jungkook? Well, he painted the walls baby-pink with you at 1am and drilled shelves with no prior experience. He showed up to your grand opening with an extravagant flower bouquet, three balloons that were far too big and dramatic for a bakery opening, and a promise to always support you and your happiness.
He's been your most loyal customer ever since.
Which brings you to now.
The bell above the front door jingles at 8 on a Thursday morning and you don't have to look up to know who it is.
"Morning, superstar," Jungkook calls out, his voice warm and annoyingly bright for a man who has a meeting to attend in an hour. Working in the corporate world isn't the most thrilling profession in life, but he earns the big bucks and he looks hot wearing a suit, and that's enough for him.
You grin without turning around, already whipping up his coffee. "You're late."
"It's 8," he scoffs, winking at a random woman that walks past him.
"Your usual time is 7:20."
"Sorry. Morning sex happened," he sighs, sliding onto his usual stool at the front counter. "That girl from the bar stayed the night and don't get me wrong, she's hot, but I had to explain the whole 'no overstaying your welcome' rule."
"Is that a part of your 'no back-to-back sex' rule?"
"Yes, exactly," he sighs.
"Isn't that basically the same thing as your 'no more than once a week' rule?"
"No, the 'no more than once a week' rule specifically only works from Monday to Friday."
You scoff. "Oh, so theoretically you could sleep with someone on Sunday night and it wouldn't break the rule if you slept with them again on Monday morning?"
"Now you're getting it," he nods.
You finally glance over your shoulder, listening to him go on a long tangent about his recent sexual endeavours. He's completely different from the mischievous boy who crawled into your bed a decade ago…yet somehow exactly the same. Older now, bigger, broader, jaw sharper, hair perfectly styled. Still stupidly handsome in that infuriating, effortless way.
"Pick one for me," he grins, looking over at the pastry case.
That little tradition certainly didn't end in university. In fact, it's become an every-morning thing. He comes in before work and insists you surprise him with a new pastry to try. Apparently it keeps him on his toes, which he believes is very important in life.
You lean against the counter, your arms crossed. "Hmm. What's your vibe today?"
"I don't know," he sighs, pretending to think. "Handsome. Dashing. Maybe a little mysterious."
"Delusional," you chuckle.
"See? This is why this works," he smiles. "You keep me humble."
"What about a slice of apple and cherry crumble?"
"Nah, I had that one last week," he shakes his head.
"Lemon butter cream cup maybe?"
"Not really feeling a cream cup today," he shrugs.
"Hmmm..." You scan the display of desserts, pursing your lips. "Pistachio croissant?"
"___, come on. You're losing your touch," he teases.
"Okay, okay, uhmmm..." You scan the display once more, picking a popular new item on the menu. "Okay, today you're getting the honeycomb and lavender custard tart."
He lights up instantly, like a puppy being offered a treat. "Yes. Excellent choice. I knew you'd pick that."
"You didn't know anything," you scoff, plating it for him.
"I had a feeling."
"You always have a feeling."
"And it's always right," he grins.
The bell rings at the front door and you quickly turn your attention to the cash register to serve one of your regular customers, Mrs. Park—an elderly woman who always makes pleasant conversation and compares you to her granddaughter. She's incredibly nice and always compliments you on the frilly dresses you wear.
"What will it be today, Mrs. Park?" you smile sweetly.
"My usual, dear," she chuckles warmly. "One of those lovely chocolate eclairs of yours. My daughter tells me I should stop eating them so much because of my blood sugar but what she doesn't know won't hurt her."
You chuckle, wrapping one up for her in a little pastel-pink box, taking her cash with a polite bow of your head. "My lips are sealed," you wink.
She laughs and takes the box before walking off with a little wave of her wrinkled hand.
That brings you back to the man waiting for his breakfast.
"Here," you murmur, sliding the plate and mug of coffee toward him. "Eat and try not to break anything. You already broke two mugs last month and I'm seriously going to start charging you for them."
He takes a big bite of the mini tart and groans in delight. "God, marry me."
"You literally just told me about how you were balls deep in some girl from the bar," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "Besides, you fake-propose to me every morning."
"And I mean it every morning."
You snort. "Please. You'd never."
He leans an elbow on the counter. "Only because you'd divorce me for eating in bed and getting crumbs on the sheets," he sighs, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Correct," you nod, wiping down the counter. "I have standards."
He sets down his mug and straightens up, getting to what he's been meaning to discuss this morning. "So, you busy this Saturday?"
You shrug, mentally checking your schedule. "Not that I know of. Why?"
"Because I need you."
You pause. "You do?"
"It's an invitation actually."
"Okay…" you murmur sceptically, narrowing your eyes at him. "To what?"
"My father's engagement party. Shocker."
Your rag pauses mid-swipe across the counter. "Which one?"
"Engagement or father?" he grins.
"Both."
"Engagement number ten. Father number one."
You blink. "Ten?"
"Ten," he repeats, like it physically pains him. "She's twenty-three, gorgeous, has a skincare routine that could bankrupt nations. I think she was in diapers when my dad got married the third time."
You gape. "Wait, who's the one that sold protein powder on Instagram?"
"That was number eight." He takes another sip of his coffee. "This one does yoga retreats in Bali and says things like 'alignment is a mindset'. Ridiculous, I know. And she only wears bags that are made from real baby alligator, allegedly."
"That's disgusting and inhumane," you grimace. "So...why do you need me?"
"Because," he groans, "he's having some fancy dinner-slash-engagement party and he wants me there, and I am not suffering through that circus alone. And my dad likes you. And you make me look balanced and emotionally stable."
"That's a lot of responsibility for one woman," you tease.
He shrugs. "You used to handle lawsuits for fun."
"Yeah but I don't do law anymore," you deadpan.
"You still look like you could send someone to jail," he grins, taking another bite of his dessert. "Anyway, you know how these things go. Everyone's going to ask why I'm still single, and I'll end up getting irritated because my dad's fiancée—who's younger than me—insists on calling me 'sweetie'. I need backup. Please come, ___. I'll owe you forever."
You laugh softly, leaning across the counter. "You already owe me forever, Jeon."
"Yeah, but this time I'll actually admit it," Jungkook mumbles, meeting your eyes with that boyish half-smile that hasn't changed in a decade.
"Fine. I'll go," you sigh, tossing the rag into the sink.
Jungkook beams, and you pretend your stomach doesn't flip.
"You're amazing," he grins and claps once, pushing off the counter with a mouth full of custard tart. "I'll pick you up at seven on Saturday. Wear something fancy. And also maybe emotionally prepare yourself."
"For what?" You chuckle.
He grimaces. "Stepmom Number Ten is…a handful."
You chuckle. "Aren't they always?"
He points at you as he backs toward the door. "Exactly why you're coming with me."
The bell jingles again as he leaves, and your day continues with familiar customers while he rushes through the morning traffic.
Jungkook's father's estate is something you would never be able to afford even if you opened ten more bakeries. Calling it a house would be like calling the Titanic a canoe. There are fountains—yes, plural. There is a driveway long enough to train for a marathon. There's valet parking and a floral arch made of white roses that look like they cost more than your entire bakery.
And there are people. A lot of people. Champagne clinks in the air, soft jazz plays somewhere in the distance, and laughter rolls in every direction.
You exhale, adjusting the strap on your dress. "I always feel very commoner-in-the-palace when I'm here."
Jungkook tucks your hand into the crook of his arm, pulling you closer as he leans in, looking dapper in his black tux. "Relax. You're one of the only sane people here. That automatically makes you royalty."
"Does it?"
"Yes," he smiles confidently. "And when my father inevitably lets me inherit this place, which I'll force him to do, then I'll make you queen of the fountains."
You snort. "I don't want to be queen of the fountains."
"Too late. You've been coronated." He taps your forehead with his finger. "Boop."
You roll your eyes, but your chest warms. He always does that; makes you feel like you belong wherever he is.
Inside, the party is in full swing. There are waiters weaving between people, guests mingling in glitter and silk, the future bride squealing in a voice that sounds like it's powered by helium and Mr. Jeon himself proudly showing off the engagement ring on her finger that could double as a murder weapon. There's even a towering cake on display, five tiers of gold-trimmed extravagance that you can't wait to recreate in your free time.
Jungkook grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and hands you one, taking a big gulp.
The moment his father spots the two of you, his entire face lights up.
"There's my favourite duo!" Jeon Jaehyun sweeps you both into a hug—more you than Jungkook. Jungkook gets a pat on the back like a border collie. You get an affectionate double cheek kiss and a squeeze.
"Mr. Jeon," you greet with a polite bow and a soft smile. You've always liked him. He makes questionable choices when it comes to women, but he's nice and he always treats you like you're a part of the family. It's also clear where Jungkook gets his good looks from, not that you ever look for too long or else he'd make you Wife Number Eleven.
"You look stunning tonight, sweetheart," he beams. "I tell you, if I were thirty years younger—"
"You'd still be making terrible decisions, dad," Jungkook cuts in, unamused.
Jaehyun clicks his tongue. "I'll have you know, son, that marriage is an unpredictable thing."
You glance at the fiancée across the room, who is taking a selfie with the champagne tower, not noticing that she's flashing half the guests.
"Unpredictable, huh?" you echo with a soft smile. Sure.
The fiancée, Seulgi—with a gorgeous face, waist-length extensions and breasts that defy gravity—bounces over.
"Kookieee," she sings. Her voice is airy, like her brain has never had to carry anything heavier than a single thought.
"Kookie?" you whisper.
He grimaces. "Don't."
"Oh my gosh, is this your girlfriend?" she asks, looking you up and down like you're a lost child she found at the mall. "I didn't know my future stepson has a special lady!"
"This is ___," he sighs. "My best friend. Strictly platonic."
Seulgi nods, smiling like she understands exactly none of those words, before turning her attention to her future husband. "Love-muffin," she coos, kissing Jungkook's father on the cheek. "The guests are asking when we're cutting the cake."
Jungkook leans toward you, whispering, "My dad's nickname for her is Sugarpuss."
You almost choke on your champagne. "No."
"Yes," he grins sarcastically.
His father pats her waist affectionately, grabbing your attention. "Isn't she wonderful?"
She smiles. "I got my nails done for today."
She wiggles her fingers in front of your face. They're pink and sparkly and probably cost more than your monthly grocery bill.
You smile, nodding. "Very pretty."
"Thank you!" she squeals. "I got them done at—oh look, champagne!" She wanders away mid-sentence.
Jungkook closes his eyes, groaning. "My latest stepmother, ladies and gentlemen."
Jaehyun gives you both an apologetic smile. "Listen, she's...youthful. Nothing wrong with that."
"She probably can't even spell 'youthful', dad," Jungkook deadpans.
Before Jaehyun can respond, another round of shrieking laughter erupts from Seulgi's direction. Jaehyun sighs deeply, chuckling.
You squeeze his arm, a soft smile settling on your face. "Congratulations. I really hope you're happy, Mr. Jeon."
He softens at that, looking between you and Jungkook. "With people like the two of you around? Hard not to be."
Jungkook, knowing how much of a sap you are, drags you away before you can tear up, but that doesn't stop you from clutching your chest like your heart might physically burst right through it.
The buffet tables are the size of actual battle stations. You and Jungkook each grab cake slices and slip outside, where fairy lights glow over small round tables. You sit at one, kicking off your heels with a relieved sigh.
"Vanilla for you," Jungkook says, sliding your plate over. "Chocolate for me."
"And we share," you remind him.
"We always share."
You scoop a bite of chocolate from his plate. He steals some vanilla from yours. It's instinctual.
While you eat, you glance out at the dance floor. Couples are slow dancing under the lights, chins tucked against shoulders, fingers intertwined, faces soft with something that makes your chest ache a little.
"I love that," you murmur softly.
Jungkook follows your gaze. "What? Dancing?"
"No," you scoff, taking a small bite of the vanilla cake. "The...closeness. The comfort. You know, two people who actually like being around each other."
He snorts, stuffing his mouth with cake. "Boring."
"You literally treat dating like a casual sport," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "You can't even do something as simple as cuddling."
"I could cuddle if I really wanted to," he mumbles defensively, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Jungkook, you once pushed a girl off your chest because she said your heartbeat sounded like a lullaby."
He points his fork at you. "Okay, but after I pushed her off of me, I played her an actual lullaby on Spotify, so..."
You laugh so loudly someone glances over at your table.
He leans back in his chair, studying you. "You should be more spontaneous. You fall in love too quickly and you assume every boyfriend is the one. You ever think maybe you'd have more fun if you didn't plan out every part of your life?"
"I'm not planning," you argue, eating a forkful of the chocolate cake. "I just...I like security and stability in life."
"Or," he counters, "you're waiting for this perfect man who doesn't exist."
You shrug, absentmindedly poking the cake with your fork. "I'm not looking for perfect; I'm looking for someone who sees a future with me, not a guy who 'goes with the flow' because he doesn't know how to commit. Someone I can build a life with."
He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you. "One; that's kinda delusional. Two; you're twenty-eight, you still have time for all that later in life."
"Not according to my mom. She believes I should have been married and had babies by now."
"That's insane," he scoffs. "I'm thirty and I'm perfectly fine the way I am."
"We're very different people with very opposing views on relationships, Jungkook," you murmur gently. "And besides, I do kinda agree with her to a certain extent. I want to build something soon and not waste time dating men who only want a weekend. I'll die alone if I don't get a move on."
He softens, almost imperceptibly. "You don't have to rush. It'll happen with the right person when it's meant to be."
You nod down at your plate, dragging your fork through some frosting. "Yeah. I guess."
"Besides, do you want to get married just for the sake of being married? Look at my father who's on his tenth marriage and soon, his tenth divorce."
"Don't be so negative," you murmur with a faint smile. "Maybe this one will be his person."
"My mom was supposed to be his person," he grumbles, picking at the vanilla cake. "This one is just another mistake to add to the list."
"Jungkook," you smile. "Even if you know it's a mistake but it's not your place to intervene, you simply say, 'I'm happy you're happy' and move along."
"Yeah, yeah," he scoffs, bringing his fork up to his lips. "You're always right. I hate that."
You chuckle, taking another bite of his slice of cake. The moment settles between you, and you take it as an opportunity to share something with him that's been on your mind lately.
"Speaking of being spontaneous…"
"Oh no," he teases. "That tone is never good."
You chuckle, rolling your eyes. "No, it's not anything crazy, it's just...I've kinda been thinking about going to London for the summer."
His fork freezes halfway to his mouth, his eyes growing double its size. "London?"
"Mhm. For a short pastry course," you explain. "Three months at this prestigious culinary institute. It's kinda a dream opportunity."
Jungkook is silent, his fork gently clinking against the plate as he sets it down.
"When were you gonna tell me?" he asks softly. He's not upset, just very caught off guard.
"Just now," you shrug. "I was on the fence about it for a while."
"Wow," he swallows thickly. "Three months?"
You nod.
He forces a small smile, the kind of smile he uses when he doesn't like something but refuses to ruin things for you. It's a smile that tells you he doesn't know how to live without you for that long, but he'll pretend like he's totally fine.
"That's…wow, that's amazing, ___."
"Yeah." You pick at your cake some more. "But I don't know. It's expensive and I'd be away from the bakery for months, and I've never been out of the country alone before, and—"
"Hey," he smiles, softly nudging your knee under the table. "You can do it."
"I don't know," you mumble. "It feels like…a big jump."
"You like big jumps."
"No, you like big jumps. I like stable ground, a clear path and preferably a railing."
He grins. "I'll install a railing in London."
You glare at him but your laughter slips out effortlessly.
His smile softens even more. "Seriously. If you want it, go for it. The bakery will survive. The other staff can run it. And you should do things for yourself for once. You're always taking care of everyone else."
You open your mouth to argue, then shut it when you realise you don't have an argument. You hate that he's not wrong.
"I'll miss home," you mutter quietly.
"Home will always be here, ___, it isn't going anywhere," he shrugs. "Seoul will always be your home. Three months in London won't magically change that."
You want to tell him that you'll miss him as well, but saying that you'll miss home is close enough. It's one in the same anyway.
"And," he adds, "if you get lost, I'll fly over and find you."
You roll your eyes. "Right, because you're definitely responsible enough for that."
"Hey, I'd bring a GPS."
You chuckle, leaning back in your chair as warm air settles around you, the fairy lights flickering overhead and Jungkook licking frosting off his fork like it's nothing.
"You think I'll do well?"
"Of course," he smiles, nudging your shoulder. "It's you. You're gonna shine. And I'll visit, or we'll video call...or I'll just break into the institute and steal you back."
You laugh, but your chest tightens. He's trying so hard to be happy for you. You can tell.
"You sure you'll survive without me?"
He scoffs dramatically. "If anything, I'll thrive. I'll become stronger, faster, a new man."
"Right," you chuckle. "You'll last three days before you start texting me pictures of pastries and asking which one to buy."
"I give it two," he admits in defeat.
You laugh, the last of the tension easing as the music swells in the distance. Your face slowly melts into a tender smile, your eyes softening ever so gently. It all feels so warm and intimate, and strangely bittersweet.
"Thank you for always supporting me," you murmur quietly.
"Always," he smiles before feeding you a piece of cake on his fork.
You're mid-bite into your cake when Jungkook's entire face suddenly drains of colour.
"Oh no," he whispers.
You pause, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What?"
He doesn't answer in words. Instead, he subtly tilts his head toward the patio doors.
You follow his gaze. A woman in a tight pencil skirt and glasses, hair in a too-tight bun, is clutching a binder to her chest like it's a bible and she's about to testify. Her eyes scan the place with an intensity that could cut steel.
"Uhm…who is that?" you whisper.
"One of my dad's senior analysts." He swallows, setting down his fork. "Her name's Yuri."
"She looks...friendly," you tease.
"She made a blog about me," he hisses.
Your eyebrows shoot up. "What?"
"A blog. It's called 'All Things Jungkook'. Can you believe that?"
You snicker, covering your mouth so you don't get cake everywhere. "You're kidding."
"I wish."
You laugh too loudly and Jungkook shushes you frantically before it can catch Yuri's attention.
"She wrote an entire essay analysing my facial structure," he whispers. "Like, paragraphs. There were diagrams."
You bite your bottom lip to keep from cackling, your face contorting with amusement. "Diagrams?"
"She compared my jawline to Renaissance sculptures," he mutters miserably. "Sculptures, ___."
You wheeze.
"At least she doesn't think my nose is too big or my arms are too scrawny," he adds under his breath, pouting.
You stop laughing, your smile fading.
"Who said that?"
He stares at you.
"You did," he scoffs. "Back in university."
You gasp. "I did not say that!"
"You did," he nods solemnly. "You also said my top lip is too thin."
You slap a hand over your mouth, horrified and amused all at once. "Okay, to be fair, I was an extremely critical eighteen-year-old who was drowning in law textbooks, so I didn't really have a nice thing to say about anyone."
He looks in Yuri's direction, who is still scanning the crowd like a Terminator. "She's gonna see me. She's gonna corner me and ask if I read her four-page analysis about my eyebrows."
You're already laughing again.
"___," he begs, grabbing your wrist. "Dance with me."
"Wait, what?"
"Please," he hisses. "If I'm on the dance floor with someone, she won't approach me."
You arch a brow. "You want me to publicly claim you as occupied?"
"Yes."
You chuckle faintly but stand anyway. "You so owe me."
The music has shifted to something smooth and slow—a romantic melody playing that makes older couples sway like they're reliving their youth. Jungkook places a hand lightly on your waist as you join the crowd. It's familiar but warmer than usual. Or maybe it's the champagne going to your head.
You rest your left hand on his shoulder and your right hand in his palm as you both begin to sway, your faces a lot closer together than they usually are.
"Okay," you smile, "which part of your face did she analyse the hardest?"
"My jaw," he mutters. "Apparently it has a 'mathematically perfect slope', or something like that."
You smile, letting him sway you to the music. "Well, she's not wrong."
He does a double take, staring at you like you said something completely crazy.
"What?" you chuckle.
"What did you just say?" he asks, leaning in closer.
"I said she's not wrong," you shrug.
He squints at you. "You used to call me a pretentious dick."
"That was also true."
He shakes his head. "You're unbelievable."
You grin, then hesitate just a fraction, but he notices.
"What is it?" he asks softly.
You shouldn't say it. You really shouldn't say it, but the music is soft, and the lights are warm, and you're pressed just a bit too close to a man you trust more than anyone in the world, so you blurt it out before you can stop yourself.
"I always thought you were...cute. You know, back in the day. I might've...had a little crush on you..."
His entire body goes still, his eyes growing wide.
"You what?"
"It was a teeny tiny...stupid crush," you clarify. "Very small and insignificant. Microscopic, actually."
Jungkook continues to stare at you, his lips parting in disbelief. "You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"You..." he scoffs, smiling. "You had a crush on me?"
"Don't say it like that," you chuckle, growing flustered.
"No, I'm just..." He searches your face, bewildered and—although he tries to hide it—quite pleased. "I thought you hated me in university."
"Oh, please. If I hated you, I wouldn't have wasted my time insulting you."
He laughs, loud and delighted.
"So, all those insults were, what? You flirting?"
You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Calm down, Jeon."
"You secretly pined for me," he grins smugly, gently twirling you around until you're facing him again.
"Pined? Relax. It lasted, like, two weeks."
"Mhm, sure," he teases. "I bet you were doodling my name in all your notebooks and imagining what our children would look like."
You give him a deadpan stare. "Don't push it. That ship sailed a long time ago."
His smile falters just enough for you to notice if you're really paying attention, but he recovers quickly, tugging you a little closer as the music swells.
"Right, of course," he mumbles softly, looking past you while you sway to the music.
You clear your throat, feeling desperate to redirect the conversation before the air gets heavy.
"So…London," you murmur softly.
He hums, twirling you around once more before pulling you in close. "London."
"I think it'll be good for me," you admit. "A break. Something new."
He studies you—the bright excitement in your eyes, the uncertainty underneath, the hope, and something flashes in his expression that you don't catch, something soft and affectionate.
"Well," he smiles, his voice quieter than before, "I guess I'll have to see you off at the airport, huh?"
You smile, resting your cheek against his shoulder.
He closes his eyes, savouring the moment, his voice coming out just a tad louder than a whisper. "Fuck, I'm gonna miss you."
You roll your eyes, feeling a warmth bloom deep within your ribs. "You're a sap like me now."
He smirks, the earlier tension slipping away. "Don't tell anyone."
"Your secret's safe with me."
He dips you playfully, the two of you laughing, brushing shoulders, standing closer than friends should—close enough that the air between you buzzes with something you both feel.
Outside the dance floor, Yuri is still circling like a shark, but Jungkook doesn't look her way once. Not when he's looking at you.
Incheon Airport buzzes with summer chaos; children dragging suitcases bigger than their bodies, couples taking teary selfies, businessmen speed-walking like their lives depend on it. In the middle of it all, you stand with your luggage, passport, and a rapidly beating heart.
Jungkook is beside you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
"So…" he mumbles, rocking back on his heels, "I guess this is it."
You nod, clutching the handle of your suitcase. "Three months."
"Three months," he echoes.
There's a brief moment where the airport noise fades and it's just you and him and ten years of friendship sitting between you.
He reaches out and flicks a piece of fluff from your sweater, even though you're ninety percent sure there never was any fluff to begin with. "You'll text me when you land?"
"I'll text you as soon as I get WiFi," you nod.
"And you'll video call me?"
"Only if you don't answer while you're at the gym and make me look at your sweaty forehead again."
"That was one time," he chuckles.
You grin. He grins back, but his fades first.
"Go be brilliant, okay?" he murmurs softly. "London's waiting for you."
Your chest warms. "I'll miss you."
Something flickers in his eyes but he blinks fast before you can question it.
"Yeah," he sighs. "Me too."
You smile, lightly punching his arm. "I love you, idiot."
He rolls his eyes, his lips twitching at the corners. "Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Now go."
When you finally walk toward the gate, you don't turn around, but Jungkook stays in place, watching until you disappear. When he finally walks out of the airport, he tells himself the heaviness in his chest is pride, not anything else.
Definitely not. It couldn't be.
—
London greets you with fresh summer air, the faint smell of rain, and immediate sensory overload. The taxis are louder, the buildings older, and everyone talks like they're narrating a BBC documentary.
And you feel more alive than ever.
Your first day at the culinary institute feels like stepping into a whole new world. The kitchens gleam like they've been polished a thousand times. The finest plates await your creations. The ovens are fancier than anything you could ever dream of using.
You learn laminated dough, the perfect method for chocolate tempering, advanced patisserie techniques, all things you used to watch on YouTube while telling yourself you'd perfect someday.
Now 'someday' is here and it's better than you anticipated.
You snap pictures of everything—your flaky pastries, your fancy meringues, your messy apron—and send each and every one of them to Jungkook, even if he responds hours later because of the time difference or his busy schedule.
Between classes, you make the most of your London summer. You buy dresses and blouses that make you feel like a character in a Bridget Jones movie, you carry around flowers wrapped in brown paper that will sit in the middle of the coffee table in your hotel room, you sip tea at cute cafés and buy souvenirs for Jungkook every chance you get.
A vintage Beatles t-shirt.
A Big Ben keychain.
A tiny corgi plush.
Your classmates take you in immediately and within your first month, your nights are filled with dinners at pubs where everything is fried, rooftop wine with the funny Brazilian girl from your pastry group and late-night tube rides where you and the others fall asleep leaning on each other. You make memories that will last a lifetime, and at one point, you don't even think about everything waiting for you back in Seoul.
It's a quiet Saturday afternoon when you find yourself wandering through the sculpture gallery of the Victoria and Albert Museum. There's a hush in the air, as if the marble statues are asleep and everyone else is just trying not to disturb them.
You stop in front of Canova's "Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss."
It's breathtaking. It's delicate and romantic and heartbreakingly intimate, like stone brought to life. Cupid leans over Psyche, gently cradling her as if she might shatter. You've seen it in pictures before, but seeing it in person makes it that much better.
You step closer, completely mesmerised, but a shutter clicks beside you, catching you off guard and pulling you from your daze.
There's a man standing next to you, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a dark cardigan and round glasses that slide slightly down his nose. His hair is dark and frames his face, and a film camera hangs from a strap around his neck. He's just taken a photo of the sculpture, and when he notices you looking, he offers a warm, slightly sheepish smile.
"Sorry," he murmurs in a low, honey-smooth voice, the British accent doing something tingly to your insides. "Didn't mean to interrupt your moment."
You smile politely. "You didn't, don't worry about it."
He turns to look at the sculpture again, tilting his head. "It's beautiful, isn't it? There's something timeless about it." He glances back at you. "Makes you believe that it's worth it to wait for a love like that."
Your eyebrows raise, feeling a bit taken aback by the rather romantic stranger.
He laughs softly. "Sorry. That was…dramatic."
"No," you shake your head, smiling wider. "It was really nice...and true."
"I guess that means I'm not being overly sentimental."
"Or we both are," you smile.
"Could be worse," he shrugs. "I'd rather be overly sentimental than chronically indifferent."
You let out a soft laugh. "That's a good line."
"Thank you, I read it in a book once," he smiles down at the ground, fidgeting with his camera.
You both turn back toward the statue, standing in comfortable silence for a beat, watching how the late afternoon light casts golden shadows on the white stone.
"I'm Kim Namjoon, by the way," he says after a moment, holding out a hand.
"___," you smile, shaking it.
"You're not from here, are you?"
You shake your head. "Seoul, South Korea."
His eyes light up. "Really? Me too...well, kinda. My parents are Korean but they met here in England while they were both studying at Oxford. They moved back to Korea after getting married. That's where I was born, but we moved back to England when I was about five. I haven't been back in a while."
You nod, your interest piqued. "And now you…take pictures of sculptures for a living?"
He chuckles. "Not exclusively. I'm a photographer, mostly travel and editorial, but I come here a lot on my days off. It grounds me."
"I get that," you murmur. "Bakeries do that for me."
He looks over at you, his eyebrows raising. "You're a baker?"
You nod. "I own a small bakery back in Seoul. It's kinda why I'm here, actually. I'm doing a summer course at a culinary institute nearby to brush up on my skills. I'm only here for three months."
"That's incredible." His smile is genuine, his eyes shining under the museum lights. "Honestly, I think bakers are like magicians. You turn flour and cocoa into happiness. It's very impressive."
You laugh, nodding along. "That's very nice of you to say, thank you."
"You're very welcome, Miss ___."
He looks back at the sculpture for a moment, then turns back to you, a little more tentative this time.
"I know this is a bit forward, but…do you perhaps have plans after this?"
You feel your heart pound harder, your head shaking almost too excitedly. "No, not really."
He smiles, clearly a little nervous, like he's not used to doing this. "Would you maybe want to grab a coffee with me? I could show you around London if you'd like. There's a place just down the road; very tiny and unassuming but the coffee's good and they have these absurdly large cinnamon buns that are to die for."
He's handsome, has an accent that makes your thighs clench, and he wants to take you to a café. You don't even have to think about it.
"I'd love to."
His face softens, looking like he didn't quite expect you to say yes.
You chat while you walk out together, side by side, stealing one last look at Cupid and Psyche, and somewhere deep in your chest, you wonder if he is a part of the fresh start you've been craving.
—
It all starts with a simple coffee date.
After the museum, you and Namjoon tuck yourselves into a quiet corner of a café near Hyde Park, where he stirs his cappuccino with one hand and nervously fidgets with the strap of his camera with the other. He asks thoughtful questions, listens like he genuinely cares and laughs with the cutest expression that makes your cheeks flush every single time. He walks you home that night—hands brushing, hearts pounding—and from there, it all blossoms at the speed of light.
Your second date is dinner at a tiny Italian restaurant where you end up talking for hours, sharing pasta and trading childhood stories. He shyly admits he once cried when his favourite bakery shut down, and you know then and there that he's your type of person.
On the third date, you sit beside the Thames at sunset, barely an inch between you, and when your head falls against his shoulder, neither of you move. Your first kiss happens in the rain after a trip to a vintage bookshop, hesitant at first—until it isn't. Until his hands are warm on your waist and yours are in his hair, time melting into the taste of his mouth.
You start to crave his presence, his voice, his intellect wrapped in a British accent and kind eyes.
One night, after too much wine and too many loaded glances, you kiss him breathlessly in his hallway and let him lead you to his bed. It's slow and sweet, and he makes you feel like the most beautiful woman he's ever laid his eyes upon. That happens quite often after the first time. You have sex in the shower, the backseat of his car, on the floor of your hotel room, and it's always better than the last.
By the start of August, Namjoon is a fixture in your London summer. He waits for you after class. He carries your shopping bags without a complaint. He reads books aloud when you can't sleep, chuckles at your terrible attempt at a British accent, and takes endless sneaky photos of you mid-laugh just because he loves the way you look when you're at your happiest. He even drives you out to the English countryside to have dinner with his parents.
Somewhere between the late-night talks and stolen kisses, you fall for him harder than you ever meant to. And the scariest part isn't how fast it happens…it's how disappointed you are that it's all temporary.
—
Namjoon unlocks the door to his flat, stepping inside with the same subtle confidence you've come to love. He holds the door open for you—always a gentleman, even when his fingers were just threaded through yours all the way home from the pub, even when his lips were pressed against your neck as you waited for your Uber, even when his voice had dropped into that low, breathy register that made your knees weak.
You step into the warmth of his space. It smells like him, which you've come to love as well. The lights are dim, a large bookshelf lines the wall, vinyl records stacked neatly near a player and a blooming houseplant stands tall in the corner.
He toes off his shoes and reaches for your jacket. "Here," he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek from behind.
You slip your jacket off your shoulders, your pulse jumping as he hangs it up with care. He rests his hands in his pants pockets, watching you as you turn to face him. His eyes flick over your lips, your neckline, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear like you're totally not still nervous around him.
"Wanna watch a movie?" he offers.
You shake your head, smiling.
He nods slowly and takes the hint, cupping your face in his large hands. The kiss that follows comes easily, mouths moving languidly, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt. You've kissed Namjoon a million times over the past three months—on couches, in doorways, on sidewalks lit by streetlights—but this time it feels far more gentle and intimate.
By the time he breaks away, you're breathing in shallow little waves.
"C'mon," he murmurs softly, taking your hand in his. He leads you down the hall, into his bedroom. It's minimalistic, very clean. There's no pretence, just him.
He doesn't pull you into bed. Not yet, at least.
He stands beside the low bookshelf near the window, arms folded loosely, watching you run a hand through your hair.
"Is this really just for three months?" he asks softly. "You being in London? You're really going back to Seoul?"
You sigh, realising you'd have to have this conversation eventually. "Yeah. I mean…that's always been the plan, Joon."
He nods slowly. He just needed to hear you confirm it. "Right. Just…three months."
You sit down on the edge of his bed, your hands resting in your lap. "I just...didn't think I'd actually…meet someone here. I just came to bake things and buy overpriced souvenirs for my best friend."
He smiles at that, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
You tilt your head, your eyebrows furrowing. "Why do you ask?"
Namjoon exhales and smiles. "I guess I've just been thinking about it a lot more than I expected to."
He walks toward you slowly, kneeling down so he's at eye level, his hands resting on your knees with the utmost tenderness.
"___, I know we've only known each other for a short while," he murmurs, keeping his voice steady. "But..."
You swallow thickly, sensing a shift in the air.
Namjoon pulls out a small velvet box from his pants pocket.
You freeze, completely at a loss for words. "Wait. Namjoon, is that...?"
He nods and opens it, his eyes moving from the little box to your face. Inside is a simple, vintage ring; an oval-cut diamond set in an antique band. It's timeless and stunning.
"Kim Namjoon, you're insane," you whisper, letting out a soft, breathless chuckle. "You actually bought a ring?"
He smiles up at you, shaking his head. "I didn't buy it."
Your head tilts in confusion.
"It was my grandmother's," he explains. "She wore it for over fifty years. My mum kept it after my granny passed…and last week...I asked her for it."
Your throat tightens, your eyes widening. "You…asked for it?"
He nods, glancing down at the ring. "I called her and told her that I'm serious about you. I told her that you make me feel like I'm a better version of myself just by existing next to me."
You press a hand to your mouth, feeling overwhelmed with a whole mixture of emotions.
"She told me I was a little nuts," he adds with a chuckle. "That no sane man proposes to someone he's only known for three months."
You laugh, nodding. "Your mom's smart."
"She is." His smile melts into something softer, more serious. "But I'm in love with you. And I don't want to wait."
There's a beat of silence, just the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears, the hustle and bustle of the city outside his window, and the impossible weight of the moment sitting in your chest.
"I know it's really fast," he says gently, "but when I look at you, it doesn't feel fast or crazy. It feels like I've been waiting for you my whole life without even knowing I was waiting."
You don't say anything right away.
This man wants to marry you. This man who instantly took a liking to you when he met you. This man who's intelligent and kind and effortlessly elegant. This man who just presented you with his grandmother's wedding ring like it was meant to be yours all along.
Namjoon watches your expression carefully, waiting patiently.
Then, cautiously, he smiles.
"Will you marry me?"
—
At first, it all just feels like a mild inconvenience for Jungkook.
You're in a different country, in a different time zone, and of course it's normal that your texts come through while he's asleep or his calls are missed because you're stuck in class. Days pass where your voices never reach each other, just fragments—missed calls, unread messages, half-finished voice notes.
At first, he tells himself it's normal, maybe even healthy. You're living your best life halfway across the world, and he refuses to be the needy friend who holds your back. Still, he finds himself reaching for his phone too often, typing things and deleting them, falling asleep with your chat left open like maybe, somehow, it will make you feel closer.
He goes out a lot in June.
He texts you at 2am after coming home from drinks with Jin and two girls he doesn't remember the names of. The text says, "Miss your dumb face," followed by a blurry selfie. You don't answer until seven hours later with a laughing emoji because you just finished rolling a million croissants and you're too tired to ask how his night went.
He smiles at his phone like an idiot every time your name pops up on his screen, but the more time passes, the more the silence starts to hurt.
In July, he hooks up with a girl he met at a rooftop restaurant. She's beautiful, super tall, wears a silk dress that shows off just enough to have him on edge. She calls him "handsome" and laughs at all the right moments. Her perfume is strong, her lip gloss sticky. He pulls her into his apartment and they undress in a haze of clumsy heat, getting straight to the point of the evening—sex.
Jungkook grunts and squeezes his eyes shut as he thrusts into her in missionary, his head spinning as he desperately tries to focus on the task at hand and not the text he sent you a few hours ago that still hasn't been answered.
When he opens his eyes again to kiss her, he's completely thrown off his game when it's not her face he sees contorting in pleasure—it's yours.
It's the familiar curve of your smile.
It's the sparkle in your eyes when the two of you slow danced at his father's engagement party.
It's the look of longing you had on your face when you said goodbye at the airport.
Jungkook stops moving, his hips halting mid-stroke. The girl moans something but he doesn't hear it, far too distracted by your eyes fluttering in his head. He closes his eyes once more, his breathing ragged, his heart hammering. Once he finally gets it together, he forces himself to finish but it just feels hollow now.
When August arrives, Jungkook decides to soldier on until you eventually get back to Seoul.
He meets up with a different woman on a random Monday afternoon—a friend of a friend. They get coffee, then lunch, then dinner a week later. She's cute and easy company. She asks about the meanings of all his tattoos, kisses slow and rides him fast.
She seems genuinely interested in him, so on their fourth hangout—which he insists on calling it instead of a date because he doesn't want her to get the idea that he's serious about her—he takes her to your bakery.
It's his safe place and it smells like you. It's comforting, and warm, and always welcoming. And maybe he takes her there because some part of him just misses home.
The display case is full of your signature work; dainty cupcakes decorated with edible flowers, fluffy cinnamon donuts rolled into perfect spheres, sticky toffee buns that always taste better each time he eats them.
Jungkook stares at the options, his hands in his pockets. "I can't decide what to get," he sighs, testing the waters. "Pick one for me."
She blinks, her pretty doe eyes filled with confusion. "Why?"
"I don't know, it's kinda fun," he smiles. "Just choose something for me."
She raises a brow, looking at the array of desserts. "Okay…a cookie."
He pauses, glancing at her. "No, like...be specific."
"Okay." She stares at the case, then smiles over at him. "A really big cookie?"
He smiles, but it's so fake it almost physically hurts. "Right. Sure."
She doesn't get it, of course she wouldn't. It's not about the dessert. It's so much more than that.
They end up leaving with one cookie for her and nothing but disappointment for him.
—
The days blur and the nights stretch endlessly.
He scrolls through your texts again and again, reading old ones just to be reminded of how funny you are. He reads the ones where you got into a debate about 'sex weather', in which you insisted that rainy weather is always the best time for sex, or rather "making love" as you put it, because you hate being sweaty while trying to be romantic. He listens to the voice note where you tried to explain a French baking term and got so flustered when you lost your train of thought that you ended it with, "Anyway, I'm a fraud, bye."
He plays that one three times, chuckling to himself in bed like a crazy person.
He wants to call you, to hear your voice and listen to you ramble about oven temperature settings and undercooked soufflé.
He wants to say...well, he doesn't really know what he wants to say. He just knows that no one else makes him feel whole the way you do.
That everyone else feels like a filler. Like static. Never you, though. You feel like home.
He tosses his phone aside and stares up at his bedroom ceiling, running a hand through his hair with a huff. It hits him gently, like a slow wave that unexpectedly knocks him off his feet and drowns him in an instant:
You're not just his best friend or the girl he jokingly flirts with out of habit. You're more than just someone who knows how he likes his coffee or which songs make him cry or why he hates sleeping in certain positions because it hurts his back.
You're it.
You're the one he'll always look for in a crowd of people, the one he still wants to talk to at the end of every stressful, shitty day. The one he hasn't stopped thinking about since the moment you walked through that departure gate—hell, since the moment he accidentally stumbled into your bed ten years ago.
And he doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do with that.
The thud of the basketball echoes through the gym as Jungkook dribbles, sweat clinging to his skin, his heart pounding from exertion. Seokjin's guarding him—kinda lazily—and Wonwoo's near the free-throw line, his sleeves rolled up and jaw set with focus. Mingyu's off to the side, taking his sweet time sipping water and pretending like he doesn't play the most aggressively of all four of them.
Jungkook fakes left, cuts right, and lands the shot. It bounces once, then rolls in.
"Still got it," he grins, jogging back as Mingyu throws him a towel.
"You've got cardio," Wonwoo pants. "Not game."
"Don't need game when I'm playing against geriatrics," Jungkook shoots back.
"Hey!" Seokjin wipes his forehead. "I may be a father now, but I could still outrun you with one baby strapped to my chest and another in the oven."
"You're not even the one with the oven," Mingyu snorts.
"My point still stands," Seokjin shrugs.
They keep playing—passes, dodges, light-hearted trash talk—but somewhere between defence drills and free throws, Jungkook finds himself zoning out. He leans against the padded wall, bouncing the ball absentmindedly, his thoughts far from the gym.
Seokjin notices first.
"You good?" he asks, tossing his friend a water bottle.
Jungkook catches it, hesitates, then nods. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"That's suspicious," Mingyu scoffs. "When you think too much, you start texting your exes."
"No," Jungkook mutters quietly, shaking his head. "Not this time."
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, walking over. "What's going on?"
Jungkook rolls the ball along the floor with his foot, sighing. "I think I'm in love with ___."
There's a silence that stretches just a second too long, the guys all shooting each other a look.
Seokjin's eyebrows furrow, his hands resting on his hips. "Wait, what?"
Mingyu whistles, patting Jungkook on the back. "Holy shit. That's not what I was expecting."
Wonwoo just leans against the wall and crosses his arms, his expression unreadable.
Jungkook shifts, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't know. It just hit me all at once. I've been trying to date, distract myself. I took a girl to the bakery the other day and asked her to pick something for me like ___ always does…and she picked a fucking cookie. Just said 'a big one'," he snorts humourlessly. "Didn't even get the point."
"You do realize she's not ___, right?" Seokjin chuckles. "How would she know what you meant?"
"Exactly. That's my point," Jungkook groans. "No one's her, dude. I've been around her for ten years, and I think I convinced myself I'd always have time to figure it out, but now she's in London, living her dream, probably flirting with a bunch of British guys."
"Let's not spiral," Wonwoo mutters.
"I just…" Jungkook exhales sharply. "I don't want anyone else. I want her. And...I actually want to do something about it."
The guys pause before Seokjin grabs his shoulder, smiling. "Well, shit! That's called growing up."
"You're not wrong," Mingyu mutters, grabbing the ball to dribble again. "But don't ask me to relate. I'm good with casual sex and no one touching my closet space."
"You say that now," Seokjin scoffs. "Then one day you're holding a baby while your wife cries watching dog rescue videos and suddenly it's the best moment of your life."
Jungkook laughs quietly, glancing down at the floor. "I never thought I'd want that. Not the marriage thing or the kids. I thought I'd stay the way I was forever. Just…you know, vibing."
Seokjin smiles, fond and a little smug. "Now 'just vibing' feels kinda empty, huh?"
Jungkook nods.
"She's different," he murmurs softly. "She makes everything feel like it matters. Without her, everything feels off."
Mingyu makes a dramatic gagging noise. "Can we go back to basketball now? This sappy talk is giving me indigestion."
Seokjin chuckles, giving Jungkook a hard pat on the back. "Tell her when she gets back. Don't wait."
Jungkook nods, determination setting in as he jogs over to play another round.
He's not sure how you'll react to all this, but he's done running from his feelings. He's finally ready. He just hopes you are too.
—
Jungkook listens to your voicemail multiple times when he gets home from work Friday evening.
"Hey…I'm back in Seoul! I've missed you so much. Can we have dinner tonight around 7? I was thinking of going to our usual restaurant. I have so much to tell you. It feels like I've been gone forever. Let me know, okay? Okay, I love you, bye!"
Your voice is bubbly, laced with excitement. You sound like you dialed his number as soon as you got off the plane, the airport noise in the background a clear giveaway.
Jungkook doesn't waste a second. He showers, sprays himself with his most expensive cologne and pulls out a navy suit he usually reserves for weddings and important meetings. He doesn't usually go out of his way to look good for a woman because he's him—he doesn't have to try, but this is you and he wants to leave a lasting impression when he tells you his feelings. Tonight is different. It's significant, and he doesn't want to screw it up.
On his way to the restaurant, he stops at a street vendor and buys a bouquet of peonies—your favourite. He might not be the most conventionally romantic guy on the planet, but he knows you hate roses because you think they're cliché and typical. He knows that you prefer fish over red meat, and that you hate big gatherings because they make you anxious. He knows you better than anyone else on Earth, and he loves you.
The restaurant is buzzing when he walks in—dim lights, quiet chatter, the smell of red wine and garlic butter thick in the air. He spots you immediately, perched at the bar at the far end of the restaurant, laughing at something.
His breath catches at the sight of you.
You look like London. That's the only way he can describe it. You're glowing, your cheeks rosy, your lips stained red. It's different but still you, like something bloomed while he wasn't looking.
He starts walking toward you, a smile pulling at his lips.
But then he sees him.
A tall man standing beside you, dimples on full display like someone's paying him to smile that brightly. He leans in close, says something in your ear, and presses a quick kiss to your lips. It's all a bit too casual, too familiar.
It stops Jungkook in his tracks. When he starts walking again it's fast and panicked. So much so that he doesn't see the waiter passing by until it's too late.
"Sir, excuse m—"
There's a loud crash, a blur of limbs flying about as Jungkook collides into the poor guy carrying a full tray of glasses. Water, wine, forks, the tray itself, it all goes flying as both men go down in a heap right in the middle of the restaurant.
"Shit—!"
"Oh my goodness—Jungkook?!"
You're off your stool in a second, rushing over with wide eyes. The man beside you joins you just as quickly, crouching down to help both Jungkook and the waiter up.
Jungkook winces, pushing himself up to sit.
You're already reaching for him, pulling him up to his feet. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? You just...you slammed into that guy—"
"I'm fine," Jungkook mutters, straightening up, brushing water off his sleeves. He glances down at the scattered bouquet now lying halfway under the barstools.
You crouch to pick it up, glancing up at him.
"And you bought flowers?" you ask with a hopeful glint in your eyes.
Jungkook freezes, glancing at the flowers. He clears his throat, then grabs the bouquet and abruptly shoves it into the startled waiter's hands. "No. These are his."
The waiter is taken aback, and so are you.
Jungkook claps the poor guy on the back, offering him a fake smile. "Congratulations on your...anniversary or whatever."
You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"
"Mhm," Jungkook nods, his voice tight. "Just clumsy, I guess. Classic me."
You exchange a look with the man Jungkook is still unsure of, who offers your best friend a faint smile. The three of you start walking toward the table—your table, the one you and Jungkook always request when it's just the two of you.
Jungkook doesn't say anything. He sits across from you and watches as the other man pulls out your chair like he's done it a dozen times before, which makes Jungkook's jaw twitch.
And he waits.
Waits for you to explain.
Waits to figure out why he suddenly feels like the only person in the room who didn't get the memo.
You smile and gesture toward the man beside you, your face lighting up at you look at him, a look Jungkook hasn't seen on your face in a really long time.
"Jungkook, this is Kim Namjoon. Namjoon, this is Jeon Jungkook; my best friend I've been telling you all about."
Namjoon leans over with a warm smile and extends his hand to Jungkook. "It's really nice to finally meet you, Jungkook. I've heard so much about you from this lovely lady."
Jungkook forces a smile, reaches out, and shakes it. "Yeah. Nice to meet you too."
His voice sounds normal but his chest feels hollow.
"I've been trying to picture you this whole time," Namjoon continues in that British accent that makes Jungkook's bile rise in his throat. "___'s mentioned you in almost every story she's told me."
You laugh, your cheeks turning pink. "I might've overdone it."
"No," Namjoon murmurs softly, gazing at you like the rest of the world has vanished. "I loved it. Felt like I already knew him."
Jungkook looks down at the table, wishing he could gouge out his eyes with the silverware. "So…what's the deal with you two? You met in London?"
Your smile widens as you nod. "It was so random! I was at a museum, just minding my business, and I was standing in front of this gorgeous sculpture, and then Namjoon just appeared next to me with a camera."
Namjoon chuckles. "She was so focused on the piece, I wasn't even sure if I should say anything."
"But he did," you grin. "He struck up a conversation, and we ended up at a little café for cinnamon buns and coffee, which was amazing, by the way."
"You had cinnamon buns with a stranger?" Jungkook murmurs, trying to sound amused, not crushed.
You wave him off. "Oh please. It just felt so natural. And after that, we just kept seeing each other. Museum dates, dinners, exploring the city. We couldn't stay away from each other."
Namjoon affectionately rubs your back with his palm. "I couldn't help myself, she's irresistible."
Jungkook watches the gesture, taking note of how you lean into it like muscle memory. "Sounds like it all happened fast."
"It did," you admit, your smile softening. "But it felt so right."
He nods, staring at the breadbasket in the middle of the table, and wishes he could crawl into it and disappear.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asks, his voice quieter than before. "I mean…I know we missed a lot of calls but I would've wanted to hear about this."
You shift in your seat, your expression falling slightly. "I wanted to, I really did. But things just got so hectic. Classes ran late, we were always on the move, and then the time difference made everything harder. I drafted messages and forget to send them, and after a while, I figured…I'd tell you everything properly when I got back."
You look at him with so much honesty that it only hurts him more.
"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."
He nods, offering you a faint smile. "It's okay."
It's anything but okay, but he'll suck it up and bite his tongue for you.
Namjoon clears his throat, shifting forward. "I know it's probably a lot to take in all at once, but I wanted to tell you myself. I asked ___ to marry me."
Jungkook's eyes flick up to meet his, his face unreadable.
"And I said yes!" You smile and lift your left hand, showing him your ring. It glints under the restaurant lights, sitting delicately on your finger, mocking him.
Jungkook swallows thickly, a pleasant mask glued to his face. "Wow. It's…beautiful."
You beam. "Isn't it? It was Namjoon's grandmother's."
Namjoon takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. "I figured it could be lucky for us."
Jungkook lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, glancing between you and Namjoon. "Yeah. Guess so."
He smiles at all the right moments, pretends like his chest isn't caving in, nods as if he's really listening when you tell him all about your summer with Namjoon, but all he feels is regret and bitterness that some other guy gets to take you home tonight instead of him.
You're in love. You're engaged. You're sitting across from him glowing like a woman who's found her forever. And Jungkook is just the best friend—the one who waited too long to be ready for you.
"So…" you begin, your voice light but a little nervous, glancing at Namjoon. "We've actually already started planning the wedding."
Jungkook looks startled, looking between you two. "Already?"
Namjoon nods, smiling. "We figured there's no reason to wait."
Jungkook's eyebrows furrow, looking back at you. "But…you just got back."
"I know," you murmur. "But we're getting married in England in a church Namjoon's dad helped build. It's near their home in the countryside. It's perfect, Jungkook."
"Mm, it's right across from the distillery," Namjoon nods.
Jungkook looks between the two of you, trying to process. "Distillery?"
"Yeah," you say, brightening. "Namjoon's parents own a whiskey distillery."
Of course they do. Of course his parents own a distillery and build churches and probably rescue injured animals in their free time.
"And the wedding is in a month," Namjoon adds.
Jungkook's eyebrows shoot up, his eyes practically popping out of their sockets. "A month?"
You nod, resting your head against Namjoon's shoulder. "We didn't wanna drag it out. It just makes sense, you know? Why wait when we're sure?"
He doesn't answer. He's too busy trying to remember how to breathe. And then, as if the conversation hasn't already taken a sledgehammer to his heart, you turn to him with a hopeful smile that just about finishes him.
"Anyway, I wanted to ask you something," you murmur. "I know it's sudden, and maybe kinda weird, but…Jungkook...would you be my maid of honor?"
His brain flatlines, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find something to say that won't be totally offensive right now.
"I mean," you add quickly, laughing, "knowing our relationship, you'd probably want me to be your best man someday, right? So, it's only fair."
Namjoon laughs softly, clearly charmed by the idea. "I think it'd be perfect, actually. You two clearly have such a strong bond."
Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Instead, he stands too fast, knocking his thigh into the edge of the table and spinning sideways just in time to collide for the second time that evening with the same poor waiter from earlier.
The tray clatters to the ground once again. The waiter lets out a yelp of disbelief, flat on his back. Jungkook stumbles, caught between horror and absolute emotional overload.
"Dude, are you serious?!" the waiter yells, throwing a dish towel at his chest.
Jungkook mumbles something that might be an apology, but you're already scrambling to help, wide-eyed and flustered.
"Again?! Jungkook, what is wrong with you tonight?"
Everything is wrong.
Everything has gone so terribly wrong.
—
It's a sunny Monday afternoon in the middle of Seoul and the park is alive with movement—joggers passing through, street vendors preparing fresh teokkbokki, and office workers on their lunch break scattered across benches in a sea of undone ties and styrofoam containers.
Jungkook is sitting on a bench with a hotdog in one hand and a death grip on his dignity in the other.
Seokjin takes a massive bite of his chilli dog, glances over at him, and swipes ketchup off his cheek with a napkin as he prepares to tackle the shipwreck sitting next to him.
"So…" Seokjin mumbles, his mouth full. "You gonna tell me why you've looked constipated since we sat down? I only have ten more minutes left of my break and my boss is already on my ass."
Jungkook stares down at his hotdog, his appetite barely there. "___ asked me to be her maid of honor."
There's a short pause before Seokjin chokes on a laugh, quickly covering his mouth to avoid spraying onions all over the bench. "I'm sorry, her what?!"
"Maid of honor."
Jin is full-on wheezing now. "God, I hope the dress makes your ass look good. You've been squatting for this moment your whole life."
Jungkook slumps further in his seat. "This isn't funny, Jin."
"It's hilarious, dude," Seokjin laughs.
"I'm dying, hyung. She gets back from London and all of a sudden she's getting married."
Seokjin finally reins in the laughter, wiping the corners of his eyes. "Okay, okay. Sorry. It's just...you gotta admit, that's a hell of a plot twist."
"I was going to confess," Jungkook mutters flatly, his voice low. "I showed up in a suit. With her favourite flowers. And then I walked in and watched her get kissed by her fiancé and knocked over a waiter in the process."
Seokjin winces. "Yikes."
"She's getting married at a church across from her new fiancé's family whiskey distillery, in a month." Jungkook groans and drops his head back against the bench. "She even showed me the ring. It was his grandmother's."
Seokjin lets out a soft whistle, nodding. "Yeah, that's a lot."
"I feel like I missed the entire movie and just showed up for the credits."
They sit in silence for a moment, birds chirping merrily around them like little assholes.
Then Seokjin finishes his hotdog, balls up the wrapper, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "Listen, it sucks, I'm not gonna lie. But this doesn't have to be the end."
Jungkook gives him a side glance. "You realise she's engaged."
"And you're the maid of honor." Seokjin grins. "Which means you're right there, centre stage. You're planning the whole thing, hearing every detail. You're literally the man behind the scenes."
"You make it sound like I'm in a heist movie."
"You are," Seokjin shrugs. "Except instead of robbing a bank, you're trying to steal a bride."
Jungkook snorts despite himself. "That's so dumb."
"Love is dumb, man," Seokjin scoffs. "I proposed to my wife in a Pikachu onesie, and now we have a kid who chews on HDMI cables. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."
Jungkook stares at the sky, feeling unsure. "You really think I should stay close? Not back off?"
"I think," Seokjin says, "if you're really in love with her and not just having a meltdown because someone else got there first, then don't give up on this. You be her best friend. You support her. And if there's even the tiniest crack in her heart, she'll know you were there the whole time, waiting."
Jungkook lets that settle for a moment. He takes a slow bite of his hotdog, chewing thoughtfully. "Okay," he sighs. "But I'm not wearing a dress."
"I will pay you money to wear a dress," Seokjin laughs. "Like, real money. I want full lace. And cleavage."
Jungkook stuffs his mouth with the hotdog to avoid swearing at his friend, but when he leans back again, squinting up at the sky, the weight in his chest feels just a little bit lighter at the reminder that this isn't over yet.
When Jungkook arrives at your apartment Saturday morning, he's met with the familiar comfort of your sweet scent, frilly pillows scattered across the couch, and little trinkets decorating the shelves.
He's spent countless nights here—binging your favourite shows, eating endless amounts of cake as his way of helping you with new recipes, sitting patiently as you give him a faux fashion show of the millionth pair of shoes you bought—and yet this time is not like any of the rest. This time he's here to help you plan your wedding.
"You rang, future Mrs. Kim?" he calls out, kicking off his shoes in the entryway.
You pop your head out from the kitchen with a smile. "You're late, Jeon. You said you'd be here at 8. It's 10."
He takes off his leather jacket and hangs it on your coat rack, rolling his eyes. "You've been engaged for five minutes and you're already a bridezilla."
You scoff, making your way over to greet him with a hug.
He grins at the short embrace, pulling away to get a proper look at you. "Damn, your hair looks good today. Is that a new thing, or is it just the 'I'm-getting-married' glow?"
You roll your eyes, but your smile shows how flattered you are. "Such a suck-up."
"I'm your maid of honor," he says, smiling smugly. "Sucking up to you is literally my job now."
He walks into the living room and settles onto your couch. It feels normal but there's a certain nervous energy in the air today. It's officially the start of preparations for the wedding party, and he's not sure how ready he is for all that. But today isn't about him. It's your day, and he'll support you even if it slowly kills him.
"The bridesmaids are almost here," you murmur, sitting down with him, turning to face him.
"Do I know them?"
"Well, there's Mina," you smile, knowing how well they get along.
"Mina's great, I like Mina," he nods, scooting a bit closer to you.
"And Jeongyeon. You haven't met her yet but she's really chill, you'll love her."
"Okay, who else?" he asks, reaching out and absentmindedly twiddling a strand of your hair between his fingers.
"Uhm..." You sigh, preparing yourself for his reaction. "And Lisa."
His face falls, his fingers pausing in your hair. "Are you serious? She hates me."
"I had to, Jungkook. She's my cousin," you sigh. "And I mean, can you blame her? You had sex with her then ghosted her the next day."
"She almost broke my nose," he groans.
"It was an accident," you chuckle, rolling your eyes as he goes back to playing with your hair.
"She literally punched me in the face," he deadpans. "I told her it wasn't anything serious and she agreed. I can't help that she caught feelings for me."
You smile in amusement, shaking your head at how truly humble he is. "She's wanted to be my maid of honor since we were little, so she hates you even more now."
The doorbell rings right on cue.
You grin and rush over to get the door, welcoming them in. Jungkook isn't sure if the loud entrance is your bridesmaids greeting you at the door or a pack of hyenas cackling. He lets out a huff and stands up as they enter, plastering a smile on his face.
Mina hugs you first; your bakery manager and unofficial work wife. She's organised as ever, carrying a stack of bridal magazines that she's probably had since forever.
Then Jeongyeon, your friend from high school. She's less organised than Mina but equally as excited for you.
And finally…Lisa, your beloved cousin.
Jungkook fights the urge to roll his eyes when he sees her, forcing a smile to remain civil.
She freezes when she sees him, her eyes narrowing into slits.
You smile, choosing to ignore the tension between them for your own sanity. "Jungkook, you remember Lisa, right?"
Jungkook clears his throat, nodding as he sits back down on the couch. "Yeah. Of course. Hey."
Lisa offers a sweet, pointed smile that could kill him if she really wanted to. "Oh, trust me, I remember Jungkook."
The tension is very palpable.
Mina, sensing the shift, gives a diplomatic little nod and walks over to the couch. "Well, we should probably get started, hm?"
You clap your hands together, trying to regain control of the room. "Okay! So, thank you all for coming. Please, sit. I'll go get some snacks then we can start going over fittings, schedules, things like that."
"Can't wait," Jeongyeon smiles, getting comfortable on an armchair while you head to the kitchen.
"I already know this is going to be chaos," Mina chuckles, sitting next to Jungkook, watching as Lisa stabs him with her eyes.
"Some of us thrive in it," Lisa mutters. "Don't we, Jungkook?"
Jungkook scoffs, shooting her a pointed look. "Are we doing that already?"
"Doing what?" Lisa smiles, feigning innocence. "I just meant you're probably used to this; being around a lot of women, multitasking."
You return to the living room before they can start going at each other, carrying a tray of sandwiches and some iced tea before grabbing your wedding binder and sitting down with everyone else, getting right to business. You start listing off dates and logistics—dress fittings, the bridal shower, the family brunch the morning of the wedding—but the air is already charged. Jungkook asks too many questions, honestly, and Lisa's patience visibly deteriorates with every clueless comment.
"Wait, is the brunch before the church rehearsal thing?"
Mina shakes her head, jotting some things down in her planner. "No. The brunch is the morning of the wedding. We've been over this, Jungkook."
"Oh, right. Right."
Lisa laughs under her breath. "God help us."
Jungkook turns to her, raising a brow. "Got something to say?"
Lisa shrugs, taking a glass of iced tea from the coffee table. "Not really. Just wondering how someone who can't even follow a calendar is supposed to help plan a wedding."
"Lisa," you mutter, shooting her a look that says 'behave, please'.
"Well, I didn't know I was going to be graded on my maid-of-honor performance," Jungkook grumbles.
"Well, just fyi, I'd give you an F," she shoots back.
"Settle down, you two," you sigh, gently placing a hand on Jungkook's arm.
Jeongyeon smirks into her drink. Mina, smiling calmly, jumps in before the room ignites.
"Cut him some slack, Lisa. I'm sure he didn't grow up dreaming about tulle and seating charts."
"Yeah, no kidding," Jungkook mutters.
"Exactly," Mina smiles. "So, let's all just be cool."
Lisa takes a slow sip of her iced coffee and doesn't say anything else, but Jungkook catches the flicker in her eyes that says she should've been your maid of honor instead of the man who clearly doesn't know what he's doing.
Your phone rings on the coffee table, Namjoon's name lighting up the screen. "Sorry, I have to take this," you murmur shyly. "It's Joon."
Your bridesmaids all swoon at the mention of your future husband, and Jungkook has to resist the gag threatening to spill from his lips.
As soon as you excuse yourself to take the call in the next room, Lisa jumps into action.
"I've been a MOH six times before, so I'll organise everything that needs to be done, even though I'm not the MOH here," she mutters, crossing one leg over the other.
Jungkook's eyebrows furrow, clearly clueless. "What's a MOH?"
"M-O-H," Lisa mutters pointedly.
"It stands for maid of honor," Mina smiles over at Jungkook. "That's you."
"Oh, yeah, of course," he chuckles, ignoring the eye-roll from Lisa.
"Okay, so we've got the bridal shower coming up that Jungkook will plan, our bridesmaid hair and make up trials, shopping for ___'s trousseau," Mina lists off, reading from her planner in her lap.
"Trousseau?" Jungkook's eyes narrow, leaning over to peek at Mina's planner. "What is a trousseau?"
"It's lingerie for her wedding night," Lisa deadpans, looking fed up with his questions that she feels are completely unnecessary. "How do you expect to be a good MOH if you don't even know that?"
"Oh wow, look, she's actually talking to me," Jungkook quips.
"No, I'm not," Lisa mutters quickly.
"You just did."
"Oh, my bad, Jungkook," she smiles sarcastically. "Did I break one of your rules?"
"Okay, that's enough!" Mina whisper-yells. "Can you two stop and think about ___? She's happy with an amazing guy, so could we all please, for ___'s sake, just get along, put a smile on our faces and pretend like everything is perfect?!"
"Okay, fine," Jungkook mumbles, holding his hands up in surrender.
The tension in the room is thick, but you don't notice, too giddy after hearing that deep British voice tell you how excited he is to get home to you later. You return after the call with Namjoon, turning your attention back to the ladies—who seem perfectly fine after Mina's little pep talk, all of them smiling brightly.
"Okay, I'm back," you grin, getting comfortable. "So, while we're all over there, we'll be staying at the Kims' holiday home."
Lisa's brow arches, her interest piqued. "Holiday home?"
"Yeah," you murmur while flipping through your binder. "Namjoon's family has this gorgeous house out in the countryside. I swear it's like something out of a Jane Austen novel. It's got over enough guest rooms for everyone. The garden even has an actual maze."
Jungkook blinks. He opens his mouth, closes it, then clenches his jaw in silence.
Of course Namjoon's family has a spare country mansion lying around. Why wouldn't they? Probably stocked with limited-edition wines and antique candleholders. Maybe even a butler named Charles who plays the violin at breakfast.
He forces a tight smile. "Wow. A holiday home. That's nice."
Lisa snorts. "Bit of a step up from your one-bedroom apartment, huh?"
Jungkook slowly looks over at her, smirking. "You'd know. You've been in my bedroom."
You sigh, taking a big gulp of your iced tea. Jeongyeon's eyebrows hit her hairline, finding this all too amusing.
Lisa gives him a razor-sharp glance, crossing her eyes over her chest. "Yeah. Once. Unfortunately."
Mina cuts in with perfect timing, like she's trained for this. "I think this is all amazing, ___. I mean, talk about a dream wedding."
Jeongyeon nods. "Seriously. And Namjoon seems so thoughtful. You guys make a really sweet couple."
You smile bashfully, your cheeks heating up. "I think so too. It all feels like it was meant to be, you know?"
Lisa hums. "Mhm. Must be nice to be that in love."
Jungkook's lips press into a thin line as he stares at the coffee table, remaining silent.
When you flip through wedding magazines with Mina, gushing about colour swatches and invitation templates, he finds himself tuning you out, not because he doesn't care, but because he cares too much.
Wedding planning has his iced tea tasting more like acid than anything else.
due to the 1k block limit, you can read the rest of the story HERE
“Jungkook comes home from a mission only to find out that his father sent you on The Path – a test of strength which will kill omegas such as yourself without mercy. This is a story of loss, true mates always finding together and a son finally standing up against his cruel father.”
Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader
Genre: Angst, Hurt & Comfort, Werewolf!AU, Found Family!AU, Romance, Smut
Warnings: 98% of this is in Jungkook's POV, so much plot, heavy themes of loss & grief, knowing that the grief will always be part of one, potential loss of her and it fucking breaks him, his dad is abusive and Kook finally had enough, he is indeed the True Alpha omfg, this story will have you weeping and sobbing but also smiling and panting, Jungkook is THE best character omfg i love him so much, having the “kids? yes or no?” conversation but pregnancy/parenthood etc. is not gonna happen, just the conversation yk, scenting for comfort, so many hugs and so much love <3, FOUND FAMILY, they’re so right for each other, they’re so gentle and loving with each other, you will get angst and pain and closure in the first part and then very horny smut and fluff in the second part fdsafj, the next warnings are for the smut: Dom in love!Kook, sub in love!Reader, lingerie kink, how is this so soft and yet so hot? because it’s sex with feelings <3, body worship, gentle marking, tears, so much kissing and touching and being tender <3, hand holding, lots of possessive talk, hair pulling (m.receicing), oral sex (f.receiving), rimjob & massage, pussy eating premium, vaginal fingering, nipple licking & sucking, she leaks omega juice ;), sexual scenting, cowgirl at first and then passionate missionary, she is not very good at being at top please her subby heart <3, he takes such great care of her :(, he hugs her as he is inside, he has a big dick, creampies, breeding for the sake of being each other’s one, this is the love makingstes love making these two did as of now, omfg they're so in love!, loving aftercare
Wordcount: 19.2k
a/n: to anyone who is just here for the smut, i don't apologise. you will get the angsty plot because it is needed. OMFG this genuinely made me ugly cry at some parts. omfg i forgot how heartbreakingly fun it is to write angst. this story really had everything i love as a writer. angst and pain and moments of victory and love and adoring smut and :( AH! i’m so in love with this universe and with this jungkook, i don’t think i’ll ever be normal again 🖤
Jungkook comes home to an empty house. He was gone for three days and four nights. Another one of his father’s missions. It left him feeling drained and the thought of coming home to you was the only thing keeping him going. He thought of your warmth, your scent, your embrace and soft skin during his lonely nights, wishing for nothing else but to be close to you.
And now he is home.
And you are gone.
You don’t answer the phone, you don’t read your texts, you don’t respond when he calls your name. You are nowhere to be found, scent faded from the air. It is as if you never even existed.
Jungkook feels sick in the stomach as he hurries to your parents’ house. He hopes that you are there. That maybe you just forgot to charge your phone as you left for a visit. Otherwise he would lose his mind.
Your mother opens the door.
“Oh”, she chokes out and falls around Jungkook’s neck, sobbing. The grief in her scent hits him punishingly.
“What happened?” Jungkook almost yells, trying to comfort your mother despite his body wanting to give up.
The rest of your family has gathered behind her by now. The scent of grief and fear soaks the entire house.
“Please, what happened?”
“He send her on the Path. My ___, my little girl, she isn’t going to survive this.”
“The Path? Don’t tell me this is real.”
Your mother sobs harder. Your little sister weeps as well. Your father manages to speak through his tears.
“They came for her two nights ago. He said that it was necessary for the Alpha’s mate to fulfil the rituals.” Your father snarls his next words. “She is going to die because she bonded with you.”
“No. No, this isn’t true. I will fix this.”
Jungkook wiggles out your mother’s embrace. His hands are shaking but he tries to hide it. His emotions are all over the place. Fear. Guilt. Worry. And anger. So much fucking anger.
“Please I beg you, Jungkook, save my little girl”, your mother begs, clutching his hands. Her hands are shaking more than Jungkook’s, her eyes plead with him for your life.
“I will save her. She’s everything to me. I have to go.”
“Where to?”
“To fix what wasn’t his’ to ruin.”
-------
The public gathering hall is busy today. A banquet. Most of the pack is present. Chattering quiets down as Jungkook storms past them. Your family follows him not far behind.
The door to his father’s throne room falls open loudly. The music and conversations instantly grow silent. Nervous murmurs go through the hall.
“Have you gone insane?!” Jungkook roars, filling the entire room with his presence.
“Jungkook. Son. You aren’t supposed to be back yet. Have you taken care of what I asked you to take care of?” his father greets him, voice contorted from wine. He seems jolly, having conversed with a few of his trusted people. As if he was celebrating a long awaited victory.
Within seconds after Jungkook’s arrival, his father is on the ground as Jungkook lands a punishing fist on his face. His father flies a good five meters before he bounces on the ground.
The room vibrates in screams of horror and shock. Then silence follows. His father is too flabbergasted to react.
“You sent ___ on the Path? Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Jungkook has never screamed as he screams right now.
His father gains his composure, crawling back to his throne with the help of a few pack members. He is embarrassed, but tries to mask it with anger. His face is still bleeding.
“It was about time that she went. She is your mate now.”
“She is supposed to be one of our nurturers! The Path is for future warriors! She doesn’t need to pass the fucking maturity ritual! She isn’t a fighter!”
“It doesn’t matter! We will see if she is meant to be a fighter or not.”
“It’s going to kill her!”
His father stays silent which angers Jungkook even more. He screams with his fangs bared.
“I love her! Isn’t this enough? To know that your son loves her?”
“You aren’t in love, son.”
“Don’t tell me what I feel! You have no idea what I feel. Or what love is! You give no shits about me. I’m your son but I’m a stranger to you and now you are going to take away the only happiness I have! Why do you hate me so much?”
“You do not talk to me like this”, his father tries to start his usual shit again, but Jungkook isn’t having it tonight.
“Shut the fuck up!” he roars, silencing the entire room with it. Even his father, who for the first time in Jungkook’s life actually listens. He listens. Like someone who is under the influence of his Alpha’s voice. Jungkook isn’t aware of what he did yet. Blinded by anger, hurt and worry he cannot see the change in the pack dynamics. And how everyone seems to hold their breath as they watch their supposed Alpha lose his voice under the influence of Jungkook. The wish for Jungkook to step up has been present in many, but to watch it truly happening so naturally is mind blowing.
“You are going to step down once I come back!” Jungkook yells at his father, pointing his finger at him, “you aren’t fit to be our Alpha anymore!”
His father panics.
“You do not know me! I am fit enough to rule!”
“You sent one of our nurtures to the maturity rituals! You sent her to certain death! She’s supposed to be under your protection! You’re her Alpha. Your job is to keep our nurturers safe!” Jungkook’s voice almost ruptures at this point. He never screamed as loud before.
His father is quiet.
“You went too far! I’m done playing nice and I’m done listening to your bullshit! You are unfit to lead the pack! You’ve been unfit for many years!”
His father tries to intervene, but Jungkook gives him no chance.
“You are going to give up the leadership once I’m back. Doesn’t matter how much you protest, I will make sure that you do. And if I find out that you hurt my pack in retaliation, I will kill you”, Jungkook spits with deathly seriousness and turns to leave.
His father shakes out of his shocked trance, clutching the throne in panic. The effects of Jungkook’s voice are still shaking him. He cannot take the reality of the situation, now lashing out in his last attempt to keep control.
“You do not get to walk away from this conversation, Jungkook!”
“You’re not my Alpha anymore”, Jungkook says without looking back and slams the door closed behind him.
“You should have died in your mother’s stead!”
-------
Two days. That’s how big your lead is. Two fucking days.
A path up a mountain may sound like something easy to do, but it is not. The paths of maturity are cruel. Leading up a mountain with no rest stops or offers for help, it really tests the will to survive of whoever walks them. It is steep at parts, steep enough that climbing knowledge was necessary. There are parts where one must cross a wild river on nothing but slippery stones. But the worst part comes two days into the trial. A sky bridge reaching between two mountains. Every second plank of the bridge was missing on purpose and the distance between each plank was wide enough that many fell to their deaths this way.
And if the climb itself isn’t bearing danger, it is the environment around it. The mountain is crawling with monsters and werewolf hunters. Going there without fighting experience means certain death. And you have been out there for two days.
Jungkook tries not to let the tears blur his visions as he runs along the path. He left his human form behind the moment he stepped out of the community hall, running his paws sore to catch up with you as quickly as possible.
The scents are overwhelming to him, but none of them is yours. He stops once he caught up with half a day. He left town an hour ago. He can barely breathe, even in wolf form he tastes blood, and yet he still manages to let out a howl. Loud and filled with pain, it echoes through the valley. The effects of it ripple through town even all the way down the foot of the mountain.
Jungkook receives pained howls in answer. They are distant, but not yours. Deeper into the forest. He needs to go deeper.
He runs in with monsters, switching between his wolf and human form smoothly as he rips through them. He feels nothing as he does. Just fear. Fear that he is already too late. If he runs in with enemies here, does this mean that they won against you? There are no signs of a fight anywhere. He can’t decide if this worries him more or if it comforts him. No traces of a fight but also no traces of your blood. Maybe they weren’t here when you came through. Jungkook climbs the first wall within minutes, stopping to howl once atop. The howls of his pack are little whispers in the wind by now, but no sound of you.
Jungkook curses, switching into his human form to scream your name on top of his lungs.
It’s been three hours since he left town and it is getting dark. He fears that you might not survive another night out here.
“Please mama!” Jungkook screams at the sky, face hot in tears, “please give me a sign that she’s alive! Please mama, please!”
The sky rumbles in thunder.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip, drip.
Drip, drip, drip.
Rain starts pouring down on him. Lightning strikes the very crown of the mountain just as Jungkook screams into the sky as his chest bursts in relief.
“You’re here right now, aren’t you? You’re looking out for her aren’t you, mama?”
The sky pours its heart out as Jungkook cries with it, body stretched as far as possible to reach what can never be reached.
“Help me, please! I can’t find her.” He hits his own chest, “I love her so much, mama. Please help me, mama. Please, I need you.”
The sky roars, sending blinding lightning east into the forest of him. Jungkook screams in emotion, feeling painfully overwhelmed by the situation. His mother is guiding him. At least this is what it feels like. His mama is with him. Jungkook could wail but he knows that this wasn’t the time. He has to go where the lightning hit the ground. The stench of burning wood guides him. He manoeuvres the dark forest skilfully, trying to call for you with howls which you don’t answer.
He can see the fire. One of the trees. The lightning split it in half. The rain actively kills the fire, preventing it from spreading.
Jungkook looks around panickedly, jumping and running around the area. You should be here. His mother guided him here. You should be here.
But you aren’t.
He was a fool. He trusted the ways of the environment to be something more. He trusted nature to be his mother. But his mother is dead. She has been dead for years. He was a fool for thinking that she was helping him.
Just as he was a fool for hoping that you were still alive. The mountain took you and now he is truly alone. You will never get a proper burial which means that you will never find your way into the hall of your ancestors. Even in death he won’t see you again. He is truly alone.
Jungkook howls louder than the roaring thunder, pouring his entire pain into it.
He is too far gone from the pack to hear their answers. Or for them to hear his lonely song.
He is truly alone. Just as you were when you died, scared, hungry and hurt.
The mountain shakes in heartbreak as Jungkook sings his song of grief. The sky cries harder for him, showing him its pity with lightning.
The mountain is bright for a good second, showing him everything.
He saw something.
Not far from where he stands. Jungkook runs to it, changing into his human form mid run which ends in him falling to his hands and knees those last few inches. He cuts his palms and bruises his knees, but doesn’t feel it.
He found your body. A huge branch covers your legs. It must have broken in the storm.
“___! No, ___! Please be alive!” He throws the branch off you and picks you up to flip you.
Your body flops lifelessly, your eyes are closed and your mouth agape.
“Please don’t do this to me. Please I can’t find your corpse. Please”, he begs you, wiping the dirt from your face to search for any signs of life. His hands are shaking.
“Please baby, please wake up. Please”, he begs, pulling your chest against his ear. His ears are ringing so loudly that he can’t hear your pulse.
He forces himself to calm down by taking deep breaths. Nothing. Just ringing. Jungkook breathes in. Breathes out. In. out.
“Please, be alive please.”
In. Out. In. Out.
“Please, I can’t lose you.”
In. Out. In.
Tudun. Tudun. Tudun.
Your pulse. He can finally hear it. It’s there. Your pulse is there.
Jungkook sobs and laughs at the same time, hugging you against him.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He doesn’t know who he is thanking but he knows that he never meant it more.
“She’s alive! Mama, she’s alive! I found her! Thank you, mama! Thank you!”
And he also knows that he needs to act fast. He can’t stay here. The storm is picking up. If he stays here, a fallen tree will take both of you out.
Jungkook knows this path and he has enough clarity left to know where it will be safe to hide from the storm. He carries you to safety, talking to you and hoping that it will soak into your subconscious.
“You’re safe. I’m here now. Everything’s over.”
There is a small cave not far from the path. It is sheltered from the rain and his equipment from his last climb is still there. Jungkook lies you down on the thin mattress and tugs you in.
“You’re safe now. I’m here. Please hold on. I’m here now, okay? I’m here.”
He forces his tears down. Not now.
“Please fight for me, please.”
He leans down and kisses your cold forehead, caressing the side of your head at the same time.
“Fuck, you’re freezing. Don’t worry, I’m going to warm you.”
He works quickly to get a fire set up and started. He works carefully to get you and him out of your wet clothes, checking for wounds as he undresses you. Except for a few scratches and broken nails, you seem okay. The branch didn’t damage you. Jungkook swears that he wants to cry again, but doesn’t because he can’t get emotional right now.
Not when you are still so cold. Hypothermia is lethal to a lot of mammals and werewolves are no exceptions. As a matter of fact, it might be even more lethal for them than for other species because werewolves have a naturally higher body temperature and having it drop rapidly is dangerous. And Jungkook has no idea how long you have been freezing already. What if he already comes too late?
He puts another blanket on top of you and makes sure that it covers all of you. You lie closer to the fire. He climbs under the covers with you, pulling you against his bared body. Your skin hurts as it melts with his’ because of how frozen you are.
“You’re so cold, holy fuck. Please don’t let it be too late, please”, he buries his face in the crook of your neck while he presses his body closer in hopes of transferring his heat to you. Your scent is barely present, a reminder that you were barely alive. “I can’t lose you like this. I didn’t even get to grow old with you. I wanna grow old with you, ___. Please let’s grow old together, please.”
It has been six hours since he left town. The aches of his insane run finally catch up with him. Everything hurts. He abused his paws enough that even his human palms ache and bleed. The soles of his feet feel on fire. Everything hurts, but nothing compares to the pain in his chest as he considers the possibility of losing you. He doesn’t want to think about it, but it still happens. He thinks of how it would be if you died in his arms. He imagines your funeral. How it would be to carry your dead body back to town. How it would be to hand you over to your family. How it would be to look into his father’s eyes and see the victory upon breaking him.
And then he thinks of how it was when he buried his mom. How it was to see her dead body. How it was to say goodbye eventhough he didn’t want to say goodbye.
How it was to sit by her grave each day and wish for her to suddenly appear behind him. How it was to lie awake in bed wishing for the reset button to be a real thing just so he can reset his life back to the moment she left so he could undo it.
And he imagines how it will be the same when you are gone. And the grief never hurt as much as it does right now. And Jungkook cries. He cries into the crook of your neck because he cannot hold it in anymore.
-------
It has been eight hours since Jungkook left town. Jungkook isn’t aware of this yet. Because he has been crying.
He still is.
Then there is a hand atop his hand, which wasn’t there before.
Jungkook lifts his head in a flinch. Your eyes are still closed, nothing seemed to have changed and yet everything did.
Your hand is atop his hand. You moved. Jungkook flips his hand to intertwine fingers. You don’t squeeze him back, but your fingers twitch as you hold his hand.
“___ my love, oh ___”, he croaks, feeling overwhelmed in relief. You are moving.
Jungkook cries. He cries as he hugs you closer. And he cries until sleep enslaves him.
-------
It has been sixteen hours since Jungkook left town. Stress and anxiety wakes him. The rain stopped. Sunshine enters the cave. The scent of wet soil fills the air.
It feels like a dream until reality sets in. This is a nightmare. He fell asleep. He shouldn’t have. Not when your life was on the line.
“No please”, he gasps and props himself up on his elbow.
You are facing him.
His heart stops.
Your eyes are open. You can barely keep them open, but they are open. Your eyes are open.
“___!” He sits up, pulling you with him by cradling your cheeks. Sudden awe overcomes him afterwards. He barely dares to hold you, caressing your cheeks as if you were made of glass.
“Is this real?” he whispers, eyes racing between yours.
“I don’t know. I hope it is. I can’t do this anymore, Koo.”
“___”, he presses out, resting his forehead against, “oh your voice”, he squeezes his eyes shut, “say something again.”
“Jungkook, I love you.”
He sobs softly.
“I love you too.”
He hugs you against him, holding you with such urgency that nothing could manage to claw you from him again.
Reality finally sinks in for you too. This isn’t the last dream you have before you finally die. This is real. He actually exists. He came to save you.
You sob and melt into him.
“You’re actually here.”
“I’m here, baby. I’m here.”
“You came to save me.”
“I did. You’re safe. And alive. You’re fucking alive.”
“Koo please don’t ever leave me for so long again.”
“I promise. My love, oh, my everything.”
You and he hug each other for a long time this morning. All while the sun slowly wakes up and kisses the remnants of rain goodbye. All while the light entering the cave dances on the ground. And all while the last glowing embers of a fire past fall asleep.
You clean up with what little Jungkook has in this cave while he hunts for food. You were so hungry. And he couldn’t watch you starve. So he left after making you promise him that you wouldn’t leave again.
-------
It has been eighteen hours since he left town when he comes back from his hunt. He enters the cave with a tight chest, imagining the worst. That he just hallucinated you. That you never existed. That you are gone. Or that you were real, but somehow died while he was gone.
He enters the cave feeling anxious, but instantly melts upon laying eyes on you. You are lying curled up on the blanket, looking exhausted but alive. Your ears twitch as they pick up his footsteps, eyes opening a second later.
“You’re back”, you say, getting to your feet.
Jungkook drops the deer and hurries to you, taking you into his arms like only a lover could.
“Hey ___, hey”, he says, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. Your scent surrounds him, so alive and strong.
“Hey”, you whisper, eyes closed and heart racing. He hugs you as if he missed you for decades. You need it this morning.
“You’re actually real, right?”
“Yeah, I’m real.”
He steps back, cradling your face so he can kiss it. It ends up making you giggle and hold his wrists. Your thumbs pick up his racing pulse.
“It tickles”, you giggle.
“Get used to it. I will be glued to you from now on.”
You snicker. Jungkook smiles and straightens up, gazing at you with adoring eyes.
“I got breakfast. I know it’s not what I normally get you but-”
“It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
“Should we share it outside? Where the sunlight is warm?”
“Yes.”
And so you and Jungkook share breakfast in your wolf forms, digesting it by cuddling in front of the cave where the sunlight is warmest. Of course still in your wolf forms and it makes you realise just how safe you feel in his presence. Even as wolves, Jungkook is a lot bigger than you. It is an easy thing for him to completely shield you from the world as he keeps you safe and grooms you carefully. You groom him back, hoping that his sore paws find healing through your licks.
You were never like this with anyone before. Neither was Jungkook. Being wolves together is a very intimate state to share. Not many couples take this step because it is rare to reach this level of intimacy. You had good partners before Jungkook. You all loved them in their own ways and yet you could have never imagined being wolves together with any of them. It feels so goddamn right to do with Jungkook. And you realise that even when your bodies change, your hearts still remain the same.
-------
It has been twenty four hours since Jungkook left town when you decide that it is finally time to start your journey home. He finishes the last touches in his shelter to make sure that it was ready for when he needs it next. You are outside, looking up at the mountain.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asks.
“I want to finish the path”, you confess and shift your eyes to him.
“What? No. No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I won’t allow it.”
“But I want to.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want. I’m not gonna let you go on a suicide mission.”
“I have to.”
“You don’t, ___.”
“Yes I do, Jungkook. I’m done feeling like I’m not right for you.”
Jungkook closes the distance, cupping your face and making you look at him this way. His eyes are widened in urgency.
“I hate when you talk like this. Do you understand? Don’t talk like this. Don’t. You’re right for me.”
“No, I’m not. You’re such a perfect werewolf and I’m…normal. I don’t have the pack piercings or the pack tattoos. I’m just there. I didn’t even finish the rituals.”
“You’re a nurturer. You are not supposed to walk the path. Nobody expects you to do what you aren’t meant to do.”
“But your father.”
“My father has no power anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means that I’m done watching him ruin My pack. I told him to step down once I’m back. He won’t be the True Alpha anymore when we return.”
“Holy fuck, you did?”
“I did and I regret nothing. My father’s not my family anymore. He went too far when he sent you on the path. I’m better off without him.”
“Jungkook, oh my god”, you cup his face, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. It was about time that I stepped up. He is unfit to be Alpha. I can’t let him hurt my pack any longer.”
“And you think that he will willingly step down?”
“If he has any sense of honour, he will. If not, I will make him.”
“But you could kill-”
“I know. I’m prepared to do whatever I need to do to keep the pack safe.”
“Oh my god, Koo. I’m so sorry, this is so awful”, you croak and pull him down for a hug. You nuzzle your nose against his scent spot to spread your comforting scent instinctively.
Jungkook closes his eyes, melting in relief. This is his home. This right here.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. It’s not gonna be easy but I…honestly, I’m scared shitless. He’s still my dad. I don’t wanna fucking kill my own dad.”
“Of course you don’t and I hope that you won’t have to. You’re right, he isn’t fit to be Alpha anymore, but I also don’t want him to die for it.”
“Me neither. I just want him to step down and somehow become normal again in his retirement. Am I a hopeful idiot for wanting this?”
“No, you’re not. You’re a son who just wants a normal dad.”
“I do. I really do.” He holds you closer. “I mean my mum loved him and he loved me too. In the past, long ago... I just… I want him to see his faults and be normal.”
“You’re not alone in this, Koo. Many people feel like you feel and I’m here for you. You can rant and cry as much as you need, I’m here.”
“I know. I’m so glad that you are.”
He takes a step back, running his hands down your arms until he can intertwine fingers with you.
“I’m sorry for before”, he says.
“What do you mean?”
“I got a little controlling. I’m sorry that you had to see me this way. The thought of losing you to the path just-” He shakes his head. “I can’t even think about it.”
“God, Koo.”
“Last night was without a doubt the second worst night of my life. The night after I lost my mama comes first, but last night? I thought that I lost you too and I can’t go through this.”
“I hear you. I’m sorry for putting you through all of this. I thought that I had no choice but to go. I thought that I could handle it, but I couldn’t and I’m…”
“Hey, don’t cry”, he soothes you in a soft voice, wiping your tears, “you’re okay. You’re an omega and you said being a nurturer is in your blood. You’re not weak for struggling at something you’re not meant to do.”
You listen to him with great attention, looking into his eyes because his eyes really comfort you. There is always so much love in them.
“Please stop beating yourself up about it. I really ask you to stop seeing yourself so unworthy, please.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good. Because you’re perfect in my eyes. I wanna grow old with you. I wanna spend decades by your side, ___. I wanna laugh and cry and laugh some more with you. And if you ever feel ready, I wanna have pups with you and be a great father to them. I wanna be a grandfather with you and maybe even a great grandfather. I see my future with you, ___.”
“Oh”, you let out and fall around his neck.
Jungkook hugs you back tightly, engulfing you in his warm embrace fully.
“But it’s also totally okay if you don’t want pups of our own. We can be the cool aunt and uncle”, he adds just in case.
You laugh into his chest, pulling him closer. God, you were so stupid for ever going on this journey. His father made it seem as if this was the only way to prove your worth and yet all this time, Jungkook already saw you as perfect.
You raise your head, cradling his cheeks.
“I’m so in love with you, Jeon Jungkook.”
“Wow, you…I’m in love with you too, Jeon ___.”
You snicker, “I think this has such a nice ring to it.”
“It totally has.”
You and he meet eyes.
“So what now?” you ask.
“Now, I’m taking you back to town. It’s gonna take us a long time. Come on, let’s go.”
“Koo, wait.”
“Yes?”
“Is there really no way for me to finish the path?”
Jungkook says your name in disappointment, sagging his shoulders.
“I’m just asking. Can I seriously not do it? Even with you by my side?”
Jungkook first learned instinct is to explode in anger. That’s what his father always did. But he doesn’t, instead he takes a deep breath to regulate himself.
“Why do you want to finish it?” he asks in a calm voice.
“Because I could be the first nurturer to ever finish it”, you whisper shyly. You lower your eyes, “and I could tell others what the path looks like.”
“So you want to know how it looks?”
You nod your head.
“Alright, look”, he says and turns you gently. He back hugs you with one arm around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. He uses his other arm to point at the different parts of the mountain.
“Around one hour from here, there will be another steep climb, followed by a very tense forest. Huge crab spiders like to nest in it. Their sting is even fatal to a werewolf.” he kisses your neck gently, speaking in a soft voice, “and then you have to walk half a day along very steep serpentines until they end at a cliff.”
“A cliff?”
“Yes, a cliff. Between two mountains. A bridge connects them.”
“But a bridge doesn’t sound so scary.”
“Except each second blank is missing on purpose and the distances are far enough that even I could fall through it.”
“Why would anyone make this? That’s insane.”
“It is.” He kisses the other side of your neck right on your scent spot.
You instantly sigh and drop your head against his chest. This right here is what being loved feels like. This is home.
“I feel like you’re being unfair”, you get out, shivering.
“I’m just trying to take you on a tour of the path. If you manage to cross the bridge, you’ll have to climb one more high wall and then you will have reached the peak. Up there, the oxygen is so thin that you can barely stand. And you have to do all of this again when you climb down. Climb and jump and fight.”
“What’s up there? At the peak?” you crane your neck to look at him. “I always wondered.”
“Rocks and stone and a wooden cross. And the ritual tree you have to get a cone from.”
“Is it really leaking red resin? Like blood?”
“It is.”
“Wow. What else?”
“There’s bodies.”
“What?”
“Yeah, bodies of wolves which died of lack of oxygen or exhaustion or starvation or hypothermia. Because the air is thin and cold, it takes a lot longer for the rot to set in, so most of them are still perfectly intact even after years of being dead.”
“I didn’t know that. Oh my god”, you confess and turn in his arms to seek comfort in his chest, “I heard enough. I want to go home. It’s so scary and sad.”
“Okay”, he whispers and kisses the crown of your head, rubbing your back, “let’s get you home, babygirl. Yes?”
“Yes, please take me home.”
You hold his hand very tightly as you and he begin your descent.
“And you had to see this when you were only eighteen?” you ask him.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Koo, I’m so sorry. How are you handling it?”
“I guess. I never even asked myself this question. It’s sad. Those wolves could have lived a good life if our traditions weren’t so fucked. Maybe they wouldn’t have become warriors but there are so many other fields they could have flourished in. It’s sad.”
“It is. Oh Koo, I’m so sad for them. Can we get them somehow? Help them get proper burials?”
“We can’t. It would take too many people to get them and the risk of losing more people to the path is too high. They’re safer up there.”
“It’s so sad. Now I’m really sad.”
“I know, I’m sorry”, he says and pulls you close until he can drape his arm over your shoulder. “Let’s watch a funny movie when we’re home.”
“Yeah, I’d like that a lot. Koo, do want to be wolves for a while? It was so nice to be free with you.”
“I’d like this a lot. It’s easier as wolves anyway”, Jungkook says and so you and he turn back into wolves to run through the forest side by side.
-------
It has been fifty eight hours since Jungkook left the pack. They welcome you and him by the gate as if they waited for your safe return.
You greet each person with a smile and some sort of innocent touch, but you can’t really concentrate.
“Where’s my family? Where are they?” All you could imagine as you were cold and alone was the Alpha exiling your family or hurting them. You can’t feel at home until you know that they are safe.
“___! My baby, oh my little girl!” Your mother fights her way through the crowd, almost knocking you off your feet from how aggressively she hugs you.
“Mama”, you press out and instantly breaking into tears.
“Praise the moon, you are safe! My little girl is safe. I love you, baby.”
“I love you too, mama.”
“Princess. My little girl”, your father takes you and your mother into his arms, sobbing in relief. “I’m so glad. I’m so glad.”
“I love you, dad.”
“I love you too.”
Now you are home again, hugging your parents and later your siblings. You are home. Jungkook is nudged between your parents by now, consoling them as much as he bathes in praises.
“You brought our little girl home. More than once you brought her home. How can we ever repay you?”
“Just keep loving her and being good parents to her. It’s all I want. Knowing that whenever she visits you and she leaves her parents home, she does so with a warm feeling in her chest. Just love her right, it’s all I’m asking for.”
“We love her so much. Our little girl.”
“I love her too”, Jungkook says and pulls you into a group hug. Your siblings join as well. Now you are really home.
But Jungkook isn’t allowed to rest yet. Reality settles in not soon after. The memory of how he left town is still brand-new for everyone. They expect him to act, to say something, to keep his promises. He has a duty to fulfil. Talk to his father.
“Should I come with you?”
“No. Stay with your family. I’m gonna be okay.”
You take his hand in front of everyone and kiss his cheek.
“You’re part of my family too.”
He meets your eyes. They are filled with emotion.
“Should I come with you?” you try again, but Jungkook shakes his head.
“Please stay with your family. I have to do this alone.”
“You don’t have to, you know?”
“I know. I want to.”
“Okay, then…good luck and I love you no matter what happens.”
His eyes soften. He cups your face and kisses your forehead in front of everyone to see. He even stubs noses with you, which is a very loving gesture for wolves.
“I love you too. So goddamn much”, he whispers, voice slightly shaky in emotions, and steps back. He straightens his back and scans his eyes over the pack.
They expect him to act and speak like the leader he wants to be. And so Jungkook steps up. He acts a leader.
“I know what everyone is thinking. Here he is after causing a scene. I know that some of you are probably unhappy with how I handled the situation and I know that some are happy that I did what I did. The truth is however that things are going to change from now on. The pack matters to me, every single one of you matters to me and I refuse to let the greed of one man ruin it.”
There is a rock not far from where he stands on which he could easily stand and make himself taller than the rest. He could tower over the pack, but he doesn’t. He stays eye to eye with them.
“You all know how Alphas love to make promises only to break them, so I’m going to keep my own promises short. I promise to have an open ear for each of you. I promise to spend my energy on creating community not division. And goddamn, I promise to end these greedy, pointless fights with other packs. And if the fight comes to us? I’ll be the first on out there to keep you safe, to bloody fight for you. That’s what I promise you. Being heard, community and protection!”
He looks at each and every single part of the pack, giving a feeling that what he says is directed at the person and not the mop. And as he stands, surrounded by the people he will lead from now on, after finishing his speech, the pack is silent. Not in disgust, but in pure awe. It only lasts for a second but it feels like eternity to Jungkook. Is this it? Are they not going to accept him as his Alpha?
Taehyung, one of his best friends and a beta, steps forward and takes Jungkook’s hand by his wrist just to stretch it high into the air.
“To Jungkook!” he yells and howls.
The pack finally breaks from its awed trance, joining Taehyung’s howls loudly. You join as well, watching with tears in your eyes as Jungkook gets the appreciation he deserves. Look at him. Look at him, surrounded by his pack, eye to eye and yet shining so much brighter than the rest. His eyes are widened in disbelief and his lips are parted because he can’t believe that these loud howls are for him.
But why shouldn’t they be? He sacrificed so much for the pack. He sacrificed his childhood, his adolescence and his innocence. He gave up the knowledge of clean hands just so his father’s enemies wouldn’t rip the pack to shreds. He lost the sweet blissfulness about true pain as he took the punishing blows of his father and his enemies instead of the pack. Over and over again, he cleaned up the messes, kept the people safe and pushed his own happiness aside just to make sure others have it better than he ever did. Hell, he wasn’t even allowed to cry at his own mother’s funeral. And this right now is what he deserves.
He deserves the appreciation, he deserves the howls. He fucking deserves to know that his efforts are appreciated and that he will always be this pack’s true Alpha. That they have his back just as much as he has theirs.
The howls do not die down as he makes his way to his father’s halls, staying by his side during this difficult time.
-------
He is by your parent’s front door when it is already dark outside. Your little sister opens the door. She is around nine years old and looks at him as if he was the coolest adult she has ever met.
“Hey there”, he greets her.
“Hey”, she murmurs shyly, “___! Jungkook is here!” she yells and runs off giggling.
He chuckles. Children are so funny sometimes. He can see the hallways from where he stands. In the very back, you stick your head out of the kitchen.
“Hey”, you appear in the hallway, making your way to him. “Come in. We’re almost finished.”
“Finished with what?” Jungkook asks, locking the door and taking off his outside clothes.
“Dinner.”
“What?” he breathes out.
You hang his jacket for him and put his shoes next to yours.
“I hope you’re hungry. I told mum what you like and we are making it together.”
Jungkook follows you with his hand in yours, unable to say a single word because he is in shock. He is getting a home cooked meal?
“Everyone, Jungkook is here”, you say into the kitchen, holding his hand oh so tightly.
Your family gives Jungkook welcoming waves as they greet him.
“How did it go with your father? Are you the Alpha now?” your father asks.
“I am.”
“How did he take it? How are you doing, son?”
Jungkook squeezes your hand. You instantly know that this struck a nerve.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it tonight”, you say.
Your parents understand, nodding their heads.
“Why don’t you show Jungkook your room? Dinner is going to take another fifteen minutes”, your mother says.
“Good idea. Do you want to see my room? The last time you were here, I still played with toys.”
“Yeah, show me”, Jungkook says, following after you as you lead him upstairs.
The paths are familiar to him, these halls have seen him so many times as a child.
Just as he remembers, your room is at the end of the hallway. Your door, once covered in colourful stickers, is slightly ajar. Jungkook tries to take in everything. The sights, the sensations, the scents. Nothing here smells threatening, instead a very deep scent of a safe home soaks the fibres of this house.
Just like he remembers. It was his escapism whenever his father screamed at home. He really would have needed it after his mother died, but father didn’t allow him.
“So here we are. This is my room.”
The last time he was here, your walls were bright pink and your floors were covered in dozens of toys. Your bed was children-sized and the rest of your furniture was castle themed because you were obsessed with playing princess and knight (you were the princess and he had to be the knight).
Nothing of that child-like wonder remained in this room. The walls are painted a soft yellow, the wooden floors are covered in green rugs and the furniture is made of wood and has a modern yet cozy touch to it. The bed also grew exponentially and on the window sill a series of orchids bloom. Remnants of teenage interests are displayed on a shelf, and the last memory of childhood sits on the bed in the form of a teddy bear. But at the core of it, this is an adult’s room.
“I bet it’s weird to be back here when everything is so different”, you say, studying his features. He is tired and exhausted, you can see it clearly.
“Maybe a little.”
You close the distance to him, drawing his eyes to you with a touch.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“No.”
“Did you have to, you know?”
“No, he’s still alive but…” he shakes his head, “…I should be used to it, but his words still hurt.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry”, you hug him.
Jungkook sinks into your embrace, seeking your scent spot like it was instinct. He closes his eyes, melting close to you. As long as he can smell you, life is manageable.
“I’m here for you.”
“I know.”
“And whatever he called you, it’s not who you are. You are loved so much and you are not a bad person or mean or whatever he said.”
“Thank you”, he chokes out, holding you tighter. Maybe you’re right and his father was wrong. Maybe Jungkook isn’t a selfish son, maybe his mum wouldn’t have been disappointed to see him take the leadership in such ways, maybe he is not a disappointment. Maybe his father was simply his father again.
He exhales shakily, cradling your head.
“You smell so good”, he says against your neck.
“It’s probably because I took a shower. I felt really yucky.”
“No, it’s not that. You smell so good.” Jungkook breaks the hug and stares at you with such intensity that you get nervous. He furrows his brows. “I feel like a robot. I just exist tonight”, he confesses, voice heavy.
“I get it. Too much happened. Do you want to take a shower and then wear something cozy? This always helps me feel better.”
“I don’t want to be rude and use your hot water.”
“Why? This is your home too.”
“Oh.” He closes his eyes. “Maybe I’d like a shower then”, he whispers shakily.
“Of course. Follow me, I’ll show you how to use it. We renovated the bathroom since the last time you were here and we got a new shower. Actually, we also got a new sink and new floors and walls. Basically, everything is new.”
“Yeah? That’s cool. Remember when we had to share a tomato juice bath because we hunted a skunk?”
“And it sprayed us? Oh my god yes, I completely forgot about that. My mum was so mad at us. The house reeked of it for two weeks after.”
“Yeah and then she called my mum because you ran out of tomato juice.”
“Remember what they said at the end?”
“That we should never lose our curiosity. Because bad smells can be washed away, but knowledge will never be taken from us again.”
“Yeah. Ah good times.”
You and he share giggles as you reminisce in the memory. His bad day feels far away when he can be like this with you.
“So. Here is a towel and you can start the water there and with this one you can change the temperature. You can use my shower gel and my shampoo”, you explain.
“Okay. Do you have a bag where I can store my clothes?”
“Huh? Just throw them in the hamper. My dad will wash it with the next load.”
“But.”
“No buts, you’re family. It’s okay.” You peck his cheek. “Just feel at home here. Okay?”
He nods his head, chest threatening to burst in emotion.
“Good. I’ll bring you some clothes”, you say and leave the bathroom. Jungkook stands frozen for a while, hearing you scream outside. “Jungkook is showering so nobody enter the bathroom!” to which faints voices from downstairs answer you with “okay”s.
It was so easy for your family to accept him in your home. The very second he stepped foot into this house, he was already part of it. He left fifteen years ago and once he returned, it was as if he never even left. Yes, rooms might have been renovated and toys might have been stored away, but at the core of it nothing changed. The layout is still the same, the scents as well and most importantly, the feelings. It still feels safe to come here.
Jungkook undresses and throws his clothes into the hamper because it is okay for him to do.
Your father will wash them because he is part of the family.
Jungkook steps into the shower and turns the shower on, and he turns up the temperature as high as possible because it was okay for him to use the hot water. He is part of the family.
Jungkook uses your shower gel and your shampoo, and maybe he uses a little bit too much but he knows that it’s okay to do. Because he is part of the family.
Tears run down his cheeks and he lets them. Water washes them away. He thought that after today, he truly lost his family. That he will never know having a “parent house” again, that he won’t know “coming over because he wants to feel like a son again”, that having somewhere where he will always be pampered was erased for him. But it is not.
Jungkook set foot into your home and became part of it. He has somewhere he can feel like a son in, somewhere where he can simply come over to.
The door opens. It doesn’t startle him because he knows that it is you.
“Jungkook?”
“Yes?”
“Can I come in? I’m not looking.”
“Yeah.”
“’I’m putting your clothes here.”
“Yes, okay.”
“Take your time, okay? I’m in my room if you need something.”
“Okay, my love.”
You leave again, filling the bathroom with a lingering feeling that everything will be alright one day. He might hurt tonight, he might hurt tomorrow and the day after that, a week from now, a month, maybe even two, but it will be alright one day. Because he has a family that cares and that means he can heal from everything.
Jungkook cleans the shower after using it and dries himself with the soft towel you laid out. He puts on the clothes you brought him, they must be some of your fathers. They’re just a little too small for him, but he does not mind. He never had a father figure who did not mind sharing his clothes when he needed a new pair. He would accept any kind of rag because they came from a place of care.
Just as he remembers, Jungkook leaves the door open. He enters your bedroom. You are on your bed, but sit up when you see him.
“Oh you look so cute. The shirt is so small on you”, you say as you roll off bed.
“I think my body is starting to change now that I’m the Alpha”, he says, tugging on the shirt. “Do you think that your family minds that my stomach is kinda out?”
You inspect the small strip of exposed skin. He seems even more muscular than he did before. Maybe his body is really settling into his new role.
“No”, you rub his stomach innocently, grinning up at him, “you’re so cute like this.”
He smiles shyly.
“Sit by the bed, I’m drying your hair.”
Jungkook obeys gladly, closing his eyes when you begin to pat him dry. It is so nice to be groomed by you.
“Did you like the shower?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“That’s good. I really hoped that you would.” You nuzzle his scent spot affectionately, lighting up his heart. Afterwards you kiss the nape of his neck, reminding him that he is loved.
Every second with you is like a dream. Jungkook doesn’t want to wake up.
“And how are your hands? Are they still sore?” you ask, patting him behind his ears.
“No, they healed.”
“Good.” You dry the left side of his hair with the towel. “I was never in my wolf form with someone else before you.”
“Me neither.”
Your dry his right side, “it was really nice.”
“Yeah, it was.”
You dry the top of his head, sending shivers down his spine.
Grooming each other is something very loving to do between wolves. Getting pat dry is very healing to receive. Jungkook wants to burn every single second of this current moment into his memory. It will serve as a reminder that bad things aren’t meant to last forever, even if they make him feel like they will.
“Dinner is ready!” your little sister screams from downstairs, interrupting the gentle moment.
“I guess dinner is done. Are you ready?” you ask and climb off bed.
He nods his head, following you with giddy nervousness in his chest.
-------
Your family waits by the dining table, welcoming him with hugs and sweet words. And Jungkook takes the affection as much as he stares at the food in shock.
This looks exactly like the special dinner his mother always made when you came over for dinner. All these years and you remembered it?
“Is this…”
“Your mom’s special dinner? Yes. I know how much you loved it and we wanted to make it for you.”
“To thank you for bringing our ___ home and for giving her happiness”, your mother says.
“And as a cheer me up because what you did today wasn’t easy”, your father adds.
“We cut the vegetables.” “Yeah and stirred the pot.” Your siblings say proudly.
Jungkook is speechless. His chest feels so tight, but not in a bad way. He feels grateful and loved and deeply scared of taking the first bite. But he has to. Your mother is filling his plates and talking about hoping that he will love it.
He has to take that first bite. And so he does. He takes that first bite and suddenly he is nine years old again and his mother ruffles his hair, telling him to eat a lot so he can grow up big and strong. All of a sudden, he tells her about his day on the playground with you. All of a sudden, the smell of her perfume and the sound of her voice is so clear to him that it brings tears to his eyes.
“Sorry”, he presses out and hides his face behind his hand.
“Oh, sweetheart. What’s the matter?” your mother gasps and rubs his shoulders exactly how only a mother can do.
“It tastes like hers”, he whimpers his words, shoulders shaking in silent tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to cry, but this week’s brought up a lot.”
“Oh you, come here sweet boy”, your mother says and hugs him from behind.
Jungkook seeks the motherly comfort instantly, hugging her arm and letting his head sink into the warmth of her chest.
“I miss her so much.”
“Of course you do. She left too soon. It’s unfair what happened to Aera. No child should lose their mother the way you had to”, your mother comforts him with tight hugs and motherly kisses on his head. Just like she did whenever he came over after being yelled at by his father.
Jungkook doesn’t feel embarrassed to cry in front of your family. He was a boy in this house first before he returned as a man. These walls saw him snotty and sniffly after falling in your front yard. These ears heard him whiney and pouty during a childish innocent quarrel about toys. These eyes saw his cheeks wet in tears when his father was harsh and he fled to your house for refuge.
He was a snotty, teary boy in this house first and it is coming back to him now. All these days spent on this exact chair in this exact kitchen as you enjoyed dinner together. He returned. He was so lost for so many years and he finally returned.
“Thank you for being there for me. I felt so lonely ever since mum died”, he gets out.
“Oh, don’t thank us. That’s what family is for, son”, your father says.
“You will always have a mother in me, my boy”, your mother says and steps back to ruffle his hair.
Jungkook won’t ever be without family. He won’t ever be alone.
“I’m so glad that I do”, he gets out squeakily, wiping his eyes.
“Here is a tissue, Kookoo”, your little sister says and smiles shyly.
“Thanks, this is exactly what I needed.” He accepts it, blowing his nose.
Your little brother, he is only five, rubs his knee comfortingly.
“I would be really, really, sad too if my mama died.” He tugs on Jungkook’s pants until the latter lifts him up on his lap. He wipes the tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry that you lost your mama, but we can share mine. She is the best mama ever.”
“She really is. I’m so grateful to have you all”, he says, taking your hand and letting your brother cuddle into his chest.
“We’re glad too”, you say, eyes filled with love.
Your parents exchange a knowing and giddy look. As if they carried the knowledge of the universe in their hearts.
“How lucky it is.”
“How lucky indeed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your connection. How lucky it is to find your true mate in your best friend.”
You and Jungkook look at each other in shock, then back at your parents. They seem baffled and confused.
“What do you mean true mate?”
“Don’t tell me that you don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“That you two are true mates.”
“We are?”
“Of course you are.”
“Oh my god”, you gaze at him. He retorts it.
If you and he were alone, it would all be different.
You would be in his arms, getting hugged and kissed, but you aren’t alone and your love still feels so new in front of your parents. And so he leans over and kisses your cheek, giving you a fleeting side hug.
“I’ll hug you better once we’re alone. I feel like we need to be respectful right now”, he says, sending laughter through the room.
-------
Dinner finishes late. He ate a lot and he ate it gladly. Jungkook is in the hallway leading to the kitchen when you return from the toilet. He is looking at the family pictures on the wall, but shifts his eyes to you when you touch his arm.
He opens it and lets you melt into his side, kissing the crown of your head. The crickets sing outside. The overhead lights are turned off for the sake of some fake candles burning on the dresser. It is time to go home, but he does not want to leave yet.
“We should really retake our bonding picture. I look so tense”, you say, pointing at yourself.
“Mhm-hm yeah.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Just thinking about earlier. Sorry, it’s difficult not to.”
“Don’t apologise.” You hug him. “You can feel sad, you’re with family.”
He stares, eyes racing all over your face in disbelief. It doesn’t get easier to accept that he is. He fears to wake up any moment.
“Should we stay a while longer? We could ask if everyone wants to watch a funny movie. What do you think?” you suggest.
“Yes, please.”
Jungkook lets you take his hands and lets you lead him to the living room where the rest of your family is sharing time. Your parents cuddle on the couch and your siblings play on the floor.
The room smells of so much familial love and comfort.
Jungkook finds it so remarkable. After what your older brother did, your family could have crumbled apart. You could have taken his betrayal and the resulting runaway and let it destroy your bond, but you did the very opposite. You stuck together through it, growing even stronger.
“Should we watch a funny movie tonight?” you ask into the room.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” your siblings are instantly on board, jumping around happily.
“Were you not about to leave?” your father asks.
“We were, but our plans changed. Family night sounds nice. Right, Kook?”
He nods his head, squeezing your hand tighter. He hasn’t had family night since his mother died. He feels so much but your siblings rip him out of it as they both grab his clothes and tug.
“You can pick the movie, Jungkook.”
“You have to pick something cool. With dinosaurs.”
“No Dinosaurs, I want austronauts.”
“They’re called astronauts.”
“You’re annoying.”
“No, you’re annoying more.”
“Okay, okay no fighting you two. How about we pick something together and let Jungkook rest tonight? He did a lot of things today”, you step in.
“Yes, alright. But it has to be cool. Not boring like the movies daddy always watches.”
“You will appreciate a good documentary one day”, your dad says, picking up your little brother to attack his face with kisses. Your brother giggles and squeaks, entirely proud about teasing his father.
He settles on his lap afterwards, finding comfort against his father’s chest. No wonder you turned out so wonderful. Jungkook can feel, smell and see how much love your parents have for you and your siblings.
It is good. He is glad that you have a loving family.
You and Jungkook snuggle up on one end of the couch and your sister insists to rest her head against Jungkook’s arm. Obviously, because he is the coolest adult ever. Even cooler than a dinosaur. He doesn’t mind. It is nice to know that children feel safe in his presence. It is a different kind of calm to be such an adult in a children’s life. He stopped having that when his mother died.
It is far into the movie, both your siblings are asleep by now, that a sense of deep comfort finally settles in Jungkook’s chest, like he woke up from a long nightmare. He shifts his eyes from the movie. Your parents share one end of the couch, their young son spread out on their laps. You are snuggled into a blanket, laughing at the jokes and filling the air around you with a happy scent. Your sister is rolled into a small ball, slumbering on the pillow. This is a family so intimately at peace and Jungkook is part of it.
He has a family. He is part of family night. He might have lost his father tonight, but he did not lose family, maybe he even gained more than he lost. He tightens his arm around you, making you glance at him for a second. You seem worried at first until you see the adoration in his eyes, settling deeper into his embrace as a result.
You pull his hand to your lips, placing kisses on his knuckles. Jungkook kisses the crown of your head and rests his cheek against it afterwards, allowing himself to fully sink into the comfort. It is alright. He does not have to fight to stay afloat anymore.
-------
You leave your parents’ house when the clock almost shows midnight. Your mother insists that you take the leftovers.
“So Jungkook can have his mother with him a little longer.”
He carries the little basket of glass containers whilst holding your hand and wishing for those warm feelings in his chest to never fade.
“I’m so glad that we’re walking. I ate so many snacks”, you say, rubbing your happily stuffed tummy.
“Right. I’m glad too. The night’s so nice.”
“Yeah. Can I tell you something my mum said to me when you were upstairs putting my siblings to bed?”
“Yeah, tell me.”
“She said that she knows that we probably already noticed some stuff when we did couple things.”
“Couple things? What are couple things?”
“Like the knotting and the scenting and stuff.”
“Oh my god, you told your mum about my knot?”
“I didn’t and we didn’t even talk about it. She insinuated.”
“Urgh, this is embarrassing”, he whines, throwing his head back.
You snicker, “no it’s not. It’s romantic.”
“How is this romantic? Your mom knows I knotted you. That’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s romantic because she said that the stuff happening is because we’re true mates. Kook, our bodies always knew what we didn’t even notice.”
“Oh.”
He stops on the sidewalk and puts the basket on a strangers’ windowsill.
“What are you? Oh.”
He hugs you. Like he wanted to do when he first found out. Like he did when he found you in the forest. Like he will always do for as long as you let him.
He hugs you like you are his everything, as if he wanted to make sure that you can’t slip from his arms, as if it will always be you for him.
And you hug him back the very same way because it will always be him for you.
True mates. It explains so much and makes it so much sweeter. True mates. With such a title, nobody can ever question your relationship.
“I knew it”, he whispers.
“Knew what?” You whisper too.
“That my feelings for you were so much more than just normal love.” He nuzzles his nose against your neck. “When I thought that I lost you, it was like someone cut out my heart and made me watch. It was like I was suffocating. Now I know why and I’m so glad that it’s you.”
“I’m glad too. If it’s anyone, thank god it’s you. I don’t want anyone but you.”
You and he look at each other. He cups your face, closes the distance for a kiss only to stop.
“Don’t stop”, you whisper, fingers hooked behind the nape of his neck.
“If I kissed you right now, I wouldn’t stop.”
“Then don’t stop.”
“We’re almost home. Come, I wanna kiss you and hold you.”
You let him take your hand and then continue the way home. The basket is on his arm again and he seems just a little more determined to get home.
“By the way, my mum told me something else too.”
“What did she say? Please tell me you didn’t tell her about my rut.”
You laugh, “no, doofus. She said that we werewolves can only procreate when we’re in wolf form. Anything we do as humans is for fun and nothing else. So that means we can take our time and figure out what we want in the future without being scared of an accident.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Me neither. Can you make it a rule to give better sex education in schools? Now that you’re the Alpha and everything.”
He laughs, “this is a really good idea. I’ll put it on my list.”
He pulls you close, draping his arm over your shoulder.
“Figuring it out together sounds nice to me. We’ve still got so much time and if you’re ever ready to give me your answer, I’ll still love you afterwards”, he says.
“Even if?”
“Even if. I love you for you not for what you could potentially give me. Besides, I’m not ready either. I wanna have you all to myself for a while.”
You snuggle into him. “I like this.”
“Me too. Especially when it means that we can continue being horny without risks.”
You laugh, “this is indeed a very good point.”
“Is it bad that all I think about is being with you right now?”
“No, I’m thinking the same thing. I miss you like crazy.”
“Me too. I want to hold you as you fall asleep. I miss you so much.”
“If you keep talking like this, I might actually race you home.”
He grins, “fine, if you’re asking for it. Last to get home is a stinky loser”, he says and sets off, laughing.
“I wasn’t serious! Oh my god, wait for me!” you call after him and start running, cackling and squealing.
It is impossible to win against him. He welcomes you with open arms, lifting you off your feet and using the momentum to twirl with you. Your laughter and squeals fill the streets.
Jungkook laughs with you, setting you down afterwards to rub noses. He cradles your hands against his chest, swaying from side to side.
“I love you”, he whispers, gazing at you despite the close proximity.
“I love you too”, you breathe, heart racing like crazy.
“You’re home again, baby.”
“I am and I’m a stinky loser?”
He laughs, “yeah, you are.”
“Wow okay, I thought you would at least say that I’m not.”
“No, this is where the romance ends. You’re a stinky loser.”
“Shut up”, you whine, nudging his chest.
Jungkook snickers mischievously, sweeping you off your feet a second later.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“Carrying you. If I don’t, I might try to reach for the stars.”
-------
Jungkook lets you change in the bathroom, while he uses the bedroom. Because it is already late, he decides to get comfortable under the covers. He feels so good, despite everything which happened today, the feeling deep inside his chest is happiness.
He is home and you are safe again. Nothing will ever separate you and him.
“You’re cozy already.”
He looks at you and his eyes soften, “yeah I am. I’m really tired.”
“I wanna join you.”
“Join me.”
You hurry to the bed and get under the covers, closing the distance to him so you can rest in his arms. You are facing each other, sharing intimacy with only a gaze. He cradles your face, caressing it softly.
“If I had to redo my life again in order to find you, I would. I’d walk through the fires of hell for you. If you were Eurydice and I Orpheus, I would carve out my own eyes so I couldn’t accidentally look at you”, he whispers.
“Oh.”
He drops his forehead against yours.
“Thank you”, he lets you taste his sweet words, “thank you for taking me in.”
You look up at his eyes. He loves you so much. It is so obvious.
“I will always take you in, Jungkook.” You cradle his cheek. “For as long as I breathe, you have me.”
He smiles softly. It is honest. You retort it.
“I’m happy despite everything.”
“I’m so glad that you are”, you say and close your eyes, “I’m really sleepy. The past few days have been a lot.”
“I know, they have.” He kisses your forehead. “Sleep. We’re home again.”
“Yeah, home. I’m so glad you’re part of it.”
Jungkook closes his eyes and hugs you against his chest. He will never find the words to tell you just how glad he is to be part of it.
-------
Empty arms wake him the next day. He shoots up in alarm, screaming your name.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, looking up at him from your side of the bed. The pounding of his head stops, peace returns.
“Oh my god, I thought that I dreamed it”, he gets out, burying you under him in a hug.
“Dreamed what?”
“That I found you. That you’re okay and alive and home.”
“No, I’m really here.”
He squeezes you gently, kissing your neck. You smell so insanely good to him.
“I was so scared for a moment”, he mumbles against your skin. “Why were you so far away?”
“I got ready earlier and then kind of watched you sleep.”
“Ready for what?”
“I, uhm, I wanted to do something, but now I feel stupid.”
“No, don’t. I won’t judge. What did you want to do?”
“I have to show it to you, but please don’t laugh.”
“Alright.” He scoots back, inspecting you. You wrapped yourself in your bathrobe, rolling out of bed. “Show me, my baby.”
“Please don’t laugh.”
He scoots to the edge of the bed, “I promise.”
“I uhm. I got it so I could surprise you once you got home, but then the thing happened and yeah. I guess it’s still our first morning together again so maybe it counts.”
“Okay. Show me, I’m so curious.”
You open the knot of your robe and slip it off your shoulders. It pools by your feet, lying forgotten.
“Woah.”
You are wearing a sheer negligee and matching panties, held in soft pastel pinks and with delicate lace elements. The hems are decorated with the smallest of frills and at the lowest point of your neckline, a soft pink satin rose only as big as a pebble sits. The negligee reaches you around the middle of your thighs and allows your chest to sit freely.
“Wow, this is…” Jungkook feels lost for words, rubbing his hand over his mouth in utter shock. “Damn.”
This is the first time you are showing yourself this way to him. As of now, you only wore normal PJs and your underwear was comfortable and most of the time mismatched. Which he loves and he wouldn’t want it any other way.
It still would be a lie if he said that this right now didn’t affect him. Because it does. He feels in awe, completely enchanted and entirely in love with you.
“This is the first time I’m doing something like this, please say something.”
“I don’t know what to say, I’m in shock. You’re so beautiful.”
“I’m not wearing anything underneath.”
“I can very clearly see that”, he says in a breathy laugh and reaches out to pull you close by your waist. His eyes take you in hungrily, his breathing is just a little sped up.
“What are you thinking?”
“That I’m the luckiest man and that you’re the sexiest woman ever. Holy fuck, your body. Baby. Wow. Wow.”
You straddle his lap, chasing his touch.
“You drive me insane and get me fucking giddy at the same time.” He smiles at you, hands tracing the shapes of your hips. “My heart’s racing like crazy.”
“Mine too.” You scrunch your nose cutely. “I never did that before. It’s like in the movies when the woman surprises the man. I hope I got the vibe right.”
“You got it more than right. I’m in shock at how beautiful and sexy you are.” He looks at your body again, eyes burning in desire. “I can’t take my eyes off you. Please stand up one more time, I want to see you.”
It is easy for you to fulfill his wish.
He laughs in disbelief, running his fingers through his hair in a mindless habit.
“This is insane. This is literally insane. Holy fuck. Babygirl, oh my god.”
His positive and excited reactions are so encouraging, heating up your cheeks.
“Now turn around for me.”
Again, it is easy to fulfill his wish.
“Nope, I’m out. This is too much. Look at you. What the actual fuck”, he says and collapses on the bed dramatically.
You snicker, looking over your shoulder.
Jungkook meets your eyes and drops his head again, squeezing his eyes shut to play dead. He peeks after a few seconds, making you giggle.
He chuckles, straightening back up. He pats his lap.
“Come here.”
You obey his wish gladly, climbing his lap. He tugs you atop his cock, growling softly. His eyes practically fuck you, his lips are curled into a playful smirk and his strong hands cradle your buttocks. No one’s touch feels like his’ does.
“What am I gonna do with you, mhm?”
“Maybe be with me because we, you know, we haven’t been together for so long”, you started off strong but end up whispering the last words. Jungkook still gets you so shy and giddy. It’s just that you like him so much and you can’t believe that he likes you back.
“I can do that with you.” He squeezes your buttocks. “Nothing sounds better to me.”
“Then uhm, you…”, you snuggle your face into his neck, “…you have to tell me what to do. I can’t think right now.”
Jungkook swears that no one makes him feel like you do. He feels so protective over you, and cuteness aggression. So much cuteness aggression. He lets it out by lifting you up just so he can throw you onto the mattress and bury you under him. He attacks your face and neck with kisses, making you laugh and squeal.
“I’m gonna eat you. Get in my mouth, I’m gonna eat you.”
“This tickles. Eek! Please this really tickles!”
“You’re so consumable, and cute and cute. God, you’re so cute.”
“Please Kookie, I’m gonna choke.”
He purrs and kisses your cheek, lifting his head afterwards. As expected, his cock is already hard and you are already soaked. It should be studied how easy it is for you and him to get horny for each other. Neither of you address it right now, gazing at each other. Jungkook traces your features, you stare in awe.
“I wanna go gentle about it. Just take time to really savour the pleasure. Is this alright with you?” he speaks softly, like a purr.
“It’s really alright with me”, you say, nodding your head vigorously.
“This makes me so happy.” His features darken, brows furrowing. “You make me so happy”, he adds in a shaky whisper and drops his forehead on yours, lacing his left hand with you.
“Jungkook…”
“Promise me to never leave again.”
“I promise.”
“Holy fuck”, he whimpers, biting his lip so it wouldn’t tremble, “this feels so good to hear.”
“Koo, are you sure that you want to have sex? If you want to scent instead, we can just do that.”
“I want this. Just…be gentle with me today. I feel soft.”
“Yeah, okay. I like soft you.”
He smiles, kissing your cheek. He doesn’t stop afterwards, instead he kisses your jawline, your ear, down along your neck. He is so turned on, but he wants to go slow. Savour each second because it can be taken away so easily. He will never take you for granted again. He never did, but from now on he won’t even consider it.
A wave of emotion forces him to put his arms behind your back so he can lift you up into a hug.
His face is buried in your chest, his eyes closed.
“Mine.” He sets you down again, kissing your face with his elbows on each side of your head. “Mine in the gentlest of ways.”
“Yours with my body and soul”, you promise, heart beating in your chest.
He writes his promise onto your body with kisses to your collarbones and shoulders, hands guiding his lips and fingers so eager to explore. He leaves no marks, because your connection does not need physical evidence to be real.
True mates. That’s what you and he are. Fated lovers, destined partners, forever friends. It is real. It has always been about you and him. No marks are needed because it has always been written in the stars.
Jungkook leaves out your breasts purposefully. He knows that it would drive him too mad if he adored you there. Your sweet scent plagues him lovingly even from a distance.
So he ghosts his touch along the shapes of them, focusing his kisses on your upper stomach instead. You sigh so much in reaction, filling the air around him with your mellifluous scent and confirming for him that he would not have stayed normal if he had buried himself in your breasts.
“Can’t wait to be alive in there”, he says, quoting back to your first fateful night together. You described the feeling of his orgasm inside you as being alive. Jungkook was so moved by these words that it stuck. “Can’t wait. My beautiful, loved babygirl.”
You can’t wait either, but you cannot tell him that right now. He has you sighing so much. Ten days without him are too long, but you will never have to worry about this again. Jungkook is the Alpha now and that means he doesn’t have to leave for dangerous missions anymore.
“What are you thinking?” his raspy voice tickles your inner thigh.
“Just, I’m happy.”
“Mhm, I can smell that. Is it me?”
“Yeah, you”, you sigh and part your legs.
“I fucking love you.”
Jungkook kisses your inner thigh. First the left, then the right. Happiness, safety, love, desire. The scents are making his eyes water. It is truly difficult to exist so close to your spots when he feels so much for you. He thought that he will never be able to smell you again, but here he is. Back where he belongs with his true mate and best friend. The love of his life. His sweet, darling omega.
Salivating, he lifts his face, looking up at you.
“Can I eat you out?”
“Yeah”, your voice is shaky, your panties soaked.
With your consent, he hooks his fingers in them and pulls them down. You help him as best as possible, having to take a look when you hear two dull sounds of impact. He fell to his knees in front of the bed, gesturing you to put your legs over his shoulders.
“Let me take care of you, babygirl. There we go. Are you comfortable like this?”
Your legs are over his shoulders, skin getting caressed by his hands and muscles so relaxed.
“I’m so comfy”, you assure him, nodding your head. You love when he feels soft because he is even more attentive and loving with you than he already is.
“That’s good to hear. Your comfort matters. Ah, fuck I feel so soft today”, he chokes out and buries himself in your thigh to adore it closer and closer to your pussy.
Again, you love when he feels soft. He cherishes each moment, adores your every inch and makes you feel like a treasure in the process.
A very, very, wet treasure if one might add. You can feel it run down your butt, soaking the sheets in the process.
Drawn in by the smell of you, Jungkook changes his kisses to your buttocks, lifting your hips to gain better access. You are not in heat right now, but you are still so wet.
“You’re soaked, baby.”
“Mh-hm, yeah”, your voice is higher and softer than usual, and your hips twitch a little as if to confirm how soaked you are.
He feels so lucky. He has the most perfect mate.
He might just have to take a taste. Gently. Right where you feel so vulnerable. You gasp in reaction, tender rim tensing under his tongue as he licks you tentatively.
This is new territory he is treading on. Of course he snuck glances at it whenever you were bent over, and of course he wondered how it would be to exist in there, but as of now he has never taken a step into this direction.
He circles his tongue, listening to your rippling gasps. You don’t seem keen on pushing him away, on the contrary you shift closer to him eager for pleasure on this new, unexplored spot. Jungkook gains confidence, sliding his thumbs to your pussy to frame her. He massages you right beside where you need it most, while his tongue presses itself flat against your hole.
His nose comes into contact with your pussy, picking up your arousing scent. You are practically begging him to fuck you. His rimjob does this. It makes you needy.
It makes Jungkook needy too, but he holds himself back. He won’t rush today, not after everything, cherishing every grind of his tongue as if he was the one getting them. It is so wonderful how much you twitch, body warming up more and more.
So much more.
Dangerously more. Your hole is starting to leak as well, self-lubricating itself just as nature intended for an omega. It mixes with the sweetness of your pussy. Rich and flavourful, like aged honey. His fingers tighten on you, he grunts as if punched in the mouth. His breathing becomes rapid, heavy. His thoughts threatening him.
Fuck her ass until she is raw, push it in there without warning she’ll get used to it, take your omega, take her now. Those stupid instinctive voices tell him. He doesn’t want to listen to them. Why would he ever do something like this to you? You trust him, you rely on him to keep you safe.
He breaks away for a moment, kissing your inner thigh as he is calming himself. This was intense, holy fuck. He almost lost himself in the exploration.
“Good puppy, good girl”, he murmurs, more for himself than you to remind himself that he can be gentle. That he is still soft. That he is better than his instincts.
“Koo, more”, you beg, unknowing to his thoughts and therefore incredibly needy. You forgot how much you like it when your ass gets attention. And especially from Jungkook, whose spit has an almost aphrodisiac effect on you. You need more of him, tensing your thighs in hopes of pulling him closer.
Jungkook releases the skin he sucked tender, swirling his tongue down you thigh until it sits on your pussy. He stays by your entrance to lap up your nectar. Your shaky hands bundle his hair, your legs twitch on his shoulders. This is familiar but still just as exciting. Paths walked before have their own charm. Expect the expected, find safety in knowledge. Your taste soaks his tongue and coats this throat, and its familiarity forces tears to his eyes.
In return, his tongue so deep inside your pussy is something you know well, which makes you fall deep into a relaxing state of pleasure. You cannot deny, however, that your hole still tingles because of his previous attention.
“More please”, you beg, bucking your hips in hopes of feeling his nose against your clit.
“Anything, baby. Anything”, he purrs, replacing his tongue with one of his thumbs. He fills you just as he begins to lick your clit, your warm walls fluttering around him as they are trying to suck him inside. His cock twitches painfully, forcing him to fumble with his briefs one-handed and clumsily. It’s a distraction, his clothes, he cannot concentrate on what matters.
“Fuck.”
He slips away just long enough that you lift your head. Jungkook works as quickly as possible, setting your legs down and taking off his clothes. His muscles are bulging, dark nipples swollen hard and thick cock dripping heavy globs of slick.
“Are you going to fuck me now?” you ask with a hint of a beg in your voice.
“No, just the clothes rubbed on my nips and cock. It was distracting”, he says and falls back to his knees, lifting your legs back over his shoulders and burying himself in your pussy. His thumb returns to your walls, his nose finds its place back in your thick bush and his mouth locks around your clit.
She is so swollen that you practically throb into his mouth, sitting between his lips hot and sensitive. The burning pleasure returns instantly.
“Kook…” you grip his hair, clenching around his thumb. He never did that before: get naked because of desire only to withstand his instincts and lick you again. Mentally, as well as physically, you were ready to get fucked hard. It is difficult to accept your current situation, because of how needy his undressing made you.
“Koo…Koo”, you squeak each time you breathe out, fingers shaking in his thick hair and clit pulsing in his mouth.
He hums, sucking on your clit once, twice, three times and a fourth before he outlines her in slow circles with his tongue. A path walked before meant each step can be calculated, and Jungkook knows exactly how to work you up to an orgasm gradually.
No rushing it, not today. This isn’t just sex, this is your reconnection and your first morning as true mates. Your orgasm should hit you not like a violent punch to the gut, but like gentle waves during a warm evening.
He pumps his thumb in and out of you as he circles your clit, and because you leak so much, he lets his other thumb disappear to your hole.
He picks up some of the lubey, honey pleasure and spreads it on your hole.
Sharp pain flinches through his scalp, your legs lock behind his head. You pulled his hair, very unlikely for you, but the new kinds of sensations are doing it. Jungkook takes a mental note of it, remembering in this moment that female omegas are just as sensitive in their holes as they are in their pussies. How could he forget that? Fuck, he feels like a selfish prick. He should have adored you sooner, pushed forth into the last unexplored place of you.
He really wants to, you are self-lubricating enough and you are terribly relaxed. He really, really wants to push his thumb inside, but he doesn’t.
He teases, massages and circles your leaking rim while his tongue works up your clit. Not today. Especially because those mean voices tell him to. He doesn’t want to listen to them, he wants to listen to your blissed-out sounds.
His nickname sighed, mere syllables of his name squeaked, incoherent noises moaned and urgent gasps followed by silence as you hold your breath.
Your ass can wait, there is no rush. He will have so many more intimate hours with you. His heart flutters at the thought, tongue taking on a new pattern. He switches out the circles for upwards strokes like he would lick an ice cream.
“Oh god”, you get out, muffling his ears with your thighs. The new stimulation affects your body like electricity. The muscles in your pelvic floor tighten, your stomach tenses.
“Can you please stay there? Please.”
“Mh-hm.”
He could never say no to you. Whatever you want, he does it. Whatever you need, he gives it. People might think that the True Alpha rules over his omega naturally, but it isn’t so. Jungkook would wag his tail if you asked him, he would bark in command and do a little trick if it made you happy. Your wish is his command and he wouldn’t want it any other way.
He keeps the pattern going, gazing up at you while his thumbs work your other pleasure spots.
The fabric of the negligee sticks to your breasts and swollen nipples, glistening wetly wherever he kissed you. He is so into the view. Being seductively hidden fits you so well. God, he just wants to fucking push himself inside you and feel your cute walls struggle around his thick cock. The voices begin again, urging him to push his thumb into your ass, urging him to slip another finger or two into your cunt, urging him to abandon his quest for your orgasm and take what’s rightfully his’. He is the True Alpha for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t have to kneel for an omega, he should breed her till she is bloated from it.
Jungkook closes his eyes and buries his nose deeper in your soft bush, focusing on your scent instead of the voices. They don’t know him. They’re just a by-product of nature, not his real feelings for you. He made a plan, a good plan. Your ass can wait and your pussy isn’t yet to be stretched too far. He wants to make you orgasm, this is what he wants.
“You’re gonna make me cum”, you whimper, following it with pathetic whines every time he flicks his tongue. You are shaking so much, motivating him to keep going. He loves when you shake.
“Kook, please can I cum?”
Of course you can, you don’t have to ask for permission. Not after everything that happened lately. You will never ever have to ask for permission again. His princess, his darling omega, his babygirl.
“Please? I-I really have to.”
Jungkook nods his head vigorously, flattening his tongue so he would stimulate every single micrometre of your swollen clit. Because you deserve it, because you are worth everything.
“Koo”, you let out and grow silent, back getting stuck in an arch and thighs almost painfully squeezing his head.
Your walls pulsate around his thumb, your hole flutters desperately and your clit throbs under his tongue. You are having an orgasm, pleasure so intense he has you stuck in a frozen, painfully tense state. He licks you through it, eyes burning in desire as he looks up at you. That’s his fucking wife. So fucking beautiful. He counts ten seconds before life returns to your body. You drop your back, hips instantly beginning to writhe and thighs falling from his ears to wiggle instead.
“Koo, Kook, Koo, ah Koo”, you squeak between gasps, lips looking so desperate for a kiss. He knows it’s not over yet. Your body has just about accepted that you are having an orgasm and begins riding on it. You can cum for such a long time when he licks you. It’s fucking impressive and quite frankly, he is a little jealous of this ability. It must feel so fucking good to climax for so many seconds, to think that it’s over only to be surprised by another wave. He feels it every time a new wave hits you, they are timed with the convulsing of your pelvic floor and run through you aggressively. He can count another fifteen seconds. Then your body begins to slow down and your pleasured squeaks become overstimulated. Five more seconds of it, even if you flinch and grasp his hair. Now he is happy. Thirty seconds. That’s a good number. Half a minute of bliss for you. That’s what he wanted. Jungkook lifts his messy lips from your pussy, connecting them with your inner thigh. His eyes are closed, his hands map out the kisses. He knows one is never enough for you, so he isn’t worried about whether or not you want more. He knows that you do. You are his omega, he knows you. Nobody can take this from him. The knowledge, the facts and titbits, the familiarity. You are his into the deepest parts of him.
Guided by his gentle hands, he kisses your stomach and waist, bunching up the negligee as he goes. You twitch a lot more than before, skin sensitive from the orgasm and his gentle treatment of it. He reaches the chest seam, redirecting his touch to your breasts. The thin fabric is wet and sticky where your nipples leaked. He licks it, purring deeply because of the taste. So sweet.
Feeling Jungkook’s tongue through the fabric is even more intense than you could have imagined. Your nipples swelled up so much because of him. They are so big that Jungkook can comfortably suck them through the fabric. If this keeps going, you will beg him to breed you. You are so ready to be his’. You leak because of him, suffocating him in your scent.
Jungkook is right where he wants to be. Suffocated by your scent and with your hard nipples leaking on his tongue. He swears that the fabric only adds to it. It is thin enough that he can feel your warmth, but the idea of mystery is still present. Like he is unwrapping a present. If that present was sweet, scent-heavy nectar.
He messies the sheets, cock throbbing angrily. This is too sweet, you smell so intensely. You do not need words to communicate with him, your scent tells him everything he needs to know.
That you are happy, that you feel safe, that you feel entirely submissive and that you want to be bred. The last nuance of your scent goes straight to his cock, his instincts threaten to kick in again.
Fuck her into a stupid mess, they tell him. Use her like a ragdoll, they threaten him.
“Argh shit”, he shoots up in an attempt to control himself, but your taste left him so dizzy that he drops on the pillow next to you.
“Jungkook! What’s wrong?!”
“I feel like I’m on drugs.” He reaches for you, tugging you close. “Kiss me, come babygirl be close to me.”
You climb his lap and fall to your elbows. Jungkook pulls your face down and kisses you. The negligee tickles his skin where it touches him, your soaked cunt is sticky on his thighs. It gets so difficult to hold back. Perhaps even impossible. You suck his tongue and lick his lips like you were starving for the taste of your own orgasm. Your hand ruffles his hair so well, scalp tingling from the touches. Your tits are so soft against his chest and your nipples keep leaking on his skin. Jungkook does what any needy alpha would do and runs his hands down to your hips. He guides them, mewling into your mouth in hopes that you understand. There is resistance at first where you are trying to figure out what he wants from you, until it finally clicks and he has an easy time shifting you to where he needs you.
Sinking into you is like heaven on earth. Your pussy squelches, squeezing out thick globs of slick to make space for his big cock. Your lips tremble, a small “oh god” tickles his skin. He can feel your walls struggle to adapt at first, clenching and throbbing around him like they were trying to get rid of an intruder. He sinks you down further until he bottoms out and another small “oh god” tickles his lips. Your hand leaves his hair. He opens his eyes and follows it to your tummy where you press down. He feels it in his cock: the pressure and growing warmth. It is enough to tell him that you are sensing his cock inside yourself.
He engulfs your hand under his’.
“Am I hurting you?”
Your eyes shift to meet his gaze. It is the first time he is underneath you like this, the unfamiliarity makes you nervous.
“Does it hurt?” he repeats his question, eyes racing between yours.
“No, but you’re bigger than usual.”
Your eyes flit to his chest, then his arms.
“Everything about you is.”
You slip your hand from your tummy and grasp his chest. Jungkook grunts from the sudden stimulation to his nipples, muscles tensing.
“You grew over night. Ah, you’re so big inside me.”
“I told you, it’s because I’m the true Alpha. My body is adapting.”
“Jungkook”, you drop your head.
“Yes?”
“You’re so big”, you whimper and lift your hips. Your knees, still shaky from your previous orgasm, protest and force you to fall back onto his thighs. His cock buries itself in your insides against your will, reshaping you because you are too weak to escape.
“Big.”
“Adjust for me, babygirl. I know you can do it.” He talks softly, rubbing your full tummy. “Mhm? Can you do it for me, babygirl?”
“Yeah, do it for you”, you lull, lifting yourself only to drop again. He makes you feel so dumb and weak and wobbly. You love cock so much and he presses to your favourite spots. Those are your weaknesses.
“Good girl, stretch yourself open on me. That’s my girl”, Jungkook’s voice is raspier than usual, brows tight. His cock hits his own hand every time you drop. Tummy full of him. His omega stuffed with nothing but him. It makes the animal in him so fucking happy. Jungkook squeezes down on your stomach, making you tense and gasp.
“Big…”
“Mhhm filling up your tummy”, he purrs, rubbing it gently.
“Yeah”, you whimper, furrowing your brows, “full of you.”
“I’m so proud of you, you’re doing so well.”
Your knees shake uncontrollably, barely holding up your weight. You feel so vulnerable on top and weak. You’re so weak. No matter how much you try to move, your legs don’t want to work with you because every time he bottoms out a little piece of yourself gets lost in a soup of dizziness.
You know that Jungkook expects more of you. His possessive hand on your stomach is sign enough. He wants you to work harder. But how can you work harder when you can’t even properly lift yourself. You don’t even know what you want. Or how you want to move. Jungkook normally does that. He moves. He takes the lead.
“Come baby, speed up a little. Do it for me.”
You want to obey him. That’s your alpha and he wants something from you. But you are so weak. Your legs tremble as you lift yourself, the climb up his cock is exhausting, the fall down way too short. The increased speed means you have less time to recover from the climb. It makes it so difficult.
Your hips begin to wobble and writhe. This is so difficult. All you want is his cock but you aren’t doing it right.
Jungkook sits up, stilling your hips with a gentle but firm touch. You meet his eyes.
“I think we both know that this isn’t working”, he whispers, wiping your frustrated tears.
“I’m sorry. I-I tried but it’s so overwhelming.”
“That’s alright, baby. You’re alright, I’ve got you.” He lifts you, holding you against him as he gets to his knees. He slips out this way, but it doesn’t matter because it isn’t for long. “I’m sorry for putting you on top.”
“It’s okay, I’m sorry I couldn’t do it right.” you sob. “I wanted to be your good girl.”
“You are my good girl, baby. Don’t worry, you’re so alright”, he whispers to you, kissing you gently as he lies you down on your back, crawling between your open legs and pushing back inside.
The familiarity of your position makes your entire body tremble. You clamp down around him, leaking heavily. Jungkook is covering you from the world completely, he is so big and strong and protective. And you completely at his mercy. This is where you feel most comfortable, this is your safe space. Underneath him as he makes the sweetest, most pleasurable love to you.
You reach up with tears in your eyes, cradling his face.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I want to cry.”
Jungkook lowers himself to his elbows, caressing the crown of your head.
“Don’t cry right now. I’ve got you”, he whispers, rolling his hips into you to remind you of his promised presence.
He drags out each thrust, savouring how he sinks into you inch by inch over and over again. You are so much tighter now that you are in your happy place. Jungkook swears he might tear up too.
“But you feel so good and I missed you so much.”
“Baby, oh god, my baby”, Jungkook presses out, pushing his nose against your scent spot. He hugs your head this way, rubbing his face into your neck just so he can inhale every single molecule of your scent. His hips barely move, buried deep inside you and swirling with minimal effort.
You do not even mind that short break, melting into a puddle as Jungkook’s scent engulfs you.
He is so happy. It is soaking his skin.
You hug him, burying your hands in his hair.
“I’m happy.”
“Me too, baby. Fuck, you feel so good. Ah”, Jungkook talked normally at first until the feeling of your pussy creeped up on him and turned his voice into a moan.
You can feel the exact moment the realisation hits him because his hips pick up speed and his cock depth, forcing a trembling flinch through your body. You could have never created this kind of pleasure. No matter how hard you had tried.
“Holy fuck baby, holy fuck. I wanna live inside you, holy fuck your pussy. Ah, your pussy.”
Jungkook is getting greedy, thrusts gaining in strength. It was only a matter of time that he would. It is in your nature. There are no wolves who fuck gently, who drag it out and slow it down. It is just not instinctual.
“I fucking love your pussy. Fucking love her.”
He is so rough. Oh god. You grasp his hips and wail. The sound is like an alarm to him, forcing him to still instantly and lift his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“So big.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Everything is so big. I-I didn’t feel this way before. Koo, what if I can’t take you anymore? What if I’m not your good girl?”
“What?” His eyes darken. “You’re my true mate, there’s no one else for me you stupid fucking girl”, he spits and kisses you with tongue. It is a harsh kiss, dominant, angry and possessive. He loves you and he needs you to understand that. No time for air, or to find a rhythm. Jungkook decides the rhythm for you and it is intense. His arm snakes itself under your head and takes it in while he uses his other hand to pinch your nipple.
You squeal, squirting nectar all over his chest despite the fabric barrier. Again. Pressure and a tug. Like he is milking you. Or perhaps punishing you for your words. His aggressive kiss would suggest so.
Oh god you have to breathe otherwise you will pass out. Wiggling is fruitless, fleeing him as well. Air. Please air. You claw at his neck.
Jungkook breaks the kiss, giving you a chance to breathe but not really. Because while he breaks the kiss and air is yours again, he also pulls out of you only to thrust into you and begin his punishing rhythm.
You gasp, eyes going cross and toes curling.
“Silly girl. Not mine? You wanna say it again. Not my good girl? I’m gonna show you how fucking dumb this is.”
He takes you into a headlock and presses his lips against your cheek, letting you feel his fangs.
“You’re my fucking everything, babygirl. Don’t ever lessen your status again.”
Your pussy weeps just as much as you do. He is definitely making sure that you remember. Holy fuck, you have never been stretched as much before and that means a lot because you are used to his cock.
“Don’t do it. Don’t ever fucking do it. You’re mine.”
His heavy musk surrounds you, lulling you into a state of intoxication. His muscles are so big and his skin so soft in contrast. Oh god his cock. You love his cock and his scent and his skin. You love being fucked.
“Never let you go. Mine. All mine. Mine forever. Mine, mine, mine, mine.”
You definitely are. And it is getting easier to take him. You don’t want anyone else, sobbing loudly as you try to hug him closer to you.
“Tell me. Tell me you’re mine.”
“Yours.”
“Louder.”
“Yours”, you mewl, grasping is tightening arm. “Koo, I can’t breathe.”
He relaxes, calming himself by licking your neck. He growls and huffs air, feral like a feeding wolf. He must be trying to get used to his changed body as well. Perhaps a true alpha is a lot less human in the way he fucks. Perhaps his voices are loud today.
You know about them because Jungkook told you once. It was late at night after especially intense, but satisfying, sex. He told you what they urge him to do, how violent they can get and how much he hates them because he would never want to hurt you.
Maybe the voices of a true alpha are even more violent, maybe he is figuring out how to be himself again one heavy thrust at a time. Weak, but determined, you tilt your head.
“Kiss me, I love you, please kiss me.”
His hips stutter, a particle of normalcy returns.
“Love. Yes, I love you. Oh baby, I love you. Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“Mine.”
“Yours.”
Jungkook moans, kissing you. He slips his hand from your aching nipple to massage the other instead. He is softer with it, urging it to leak with patience not possessiveness. His kiss is less scrambled as well. Still passionate and messy, just less violent. Oh his hips move as if they were trying to make the sweetest love to you. He feels so good.
You melt under him, spilling tears as much as you spill new slick. Just a few more thrusts and you will finally have adapted. Truth be told, you were really doubting your own bodily limits at first. He grew a lot now that he is the true alpha. His cock is heavy, thick with throbbing veins and massive breeder balls which constantly press against your ass. His knot is still a mystery to you, but you can only imagine the absolute bliss it will bring in its enlarged state.
You truly feared that your body wouldn’t ever adapt, but of course it did. Because Jungkook is right, you and he are true mates. There is no one else for him, and no one else for you. You will fit together no matter what.
Jungkook breaks the kiss, panting against your lips. His face is flushed, his lips swollen and pink.
“Your pussy’s so soft”, he sighs, mewling softly as he drops his forehead against yours.
“I adjusted, Koo. Yours, yours, yours, yours.”
“Baby. Mine. Mine, mine, mine. Fucking mine. All mine.” He cups your cheek, hips speeding up again. “I love you so much. My babygirl.”
“I love you so much. My Jungkook.” He hits your sensitive cervix with his next thrust, raising your voice. “Ah! Yours!”
Cervix stimulation is like ecstasy for omegas, every thrust fills your veins with masses of it. Electric and fiery. Never-ending because Jungkook fucks relentlessly.
“Mine. Tell me again, baby, tell me.”
“Yours. Y-yours. Yours.”
“Yes baby, again. Mine. Tell me.”
“Yours! Ah, yours!”
It is like a prayer you are both trapped in. A blissful prayer of pleasure and possession. Nothing feels better than to be owned and to own in return. Nothing feels better than to be each other’s, connected by your sticky middles.
“Sorry I doubted myself, sorry I said it.”
“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re okay, my good girl. Yeah?”
“Yeah, good girl. Kiss me please.”
Jungkook moans, fulfilling your wish gladly. He kisses you slowly at first, feeling soft again because you pulled him back to humanity. But your pussy is a powerful weapon and he is so weak to you. As his thrusts drag out and your tongues dance slowly, some of the roughness returns again. A desire for more, an itch he cannot scratch. The kiss turns sloppy, your hands fall to his hips and squeeze.
“Right…there…”
“Good girl, take me. You’re doing so well.”
“Jungkook…right there, please right there.”
“I know babygirl, I can fucking feel it. I’m made to be inside you, baby, you’re such a perfect fucking fit. Good girl, so good.”
His praise is everything you need, your legs lift only to lock behind his butt. It tightens you around him, forcing him deeper into you.
Jungkook shudders, buries his face in the crook of your neck and moans loudly. He hugs you to his chest, rubbing his scent all over your skin. Everywhere. Your neck, your chest, your inner thighs and inside your pussy. It just happens, spilling out of him because he simply loves you so much.
Perhaps he has to let go soon, head pounding aggressively and parted fangs dripping saliva. It’s because you are hugging him. His heart might very well explode right with his cock.
“Your pussy’s so soft, so soft, soft”, a new chant begins to spill out of him, soaked in pleasure and dripping in desperation.
“Koo, you’re gonna make me cum soon.”
“Yeah? Good, cause I’m”, he laughs breathily, “fuck, I’m really fucking close too.”
“Please don’t change anything.”
“I won’t, baby. Just let me get you there, let me take care of you.”
He makes you feel so fucking protected, pampered and loved. His name leaves you in a shaky whimper, followed by a moan. You have to grab more of him, making him yours just as you are his’. Any thrust could do it at this point. Any movement could be the one. You are balancing on knife’s edge, tensing every time he pushes in and shuddering every time it isn’t happening. The build-up is making you want to fucking scream. Almost. Just a few more.
You moan loudly, arching your back and toes curling. You throb around him, riding on the kind of intense high only he can give you.
“Oh fuck. Yes babygirl, yes. Cum on my cock, fuck this is so fucking good.”
“Jungkook please give me your cum”, you beg.
“Really? I’m gonna breed you so much.”
“Please.”
“Oh god, baby. Yes baby, yes. Yeah, ah fuck now.” He whimpers loudly, slacking on top of you as his high knocks him down. It doesn’t matter to you, you pull him deeper into you, hugging him with your arms and legs and sobbing in gratefulness because nothing will ever feel as good as Jungkook does.
“Thank you! Ah!”
“Baby.. girl..”
He doesn’t knot you this morning, neither do you get trapped in an endless loop of orgasms. It is okay, the sex still leaves you just as breathless and fuzzy. Maybe even fuzzier because it was filled with so much mutual love this morning. You don’t really know how much time passes between the end of your shared orgasm and the first time one of you speaks. It was all very fuzzy and blurry. You feel so out of it in the best way possible.
“Fuck”, Jungkook sighs into the silence, head heavy.
“Yeah, right. Did you like the lingerie on me?”
“I fucking love it so much. It’s so hot. I think I blacked out in the middle of it.”
You snicker, “yeah, you got a little rough.”
“Yeah”, he chuckles breathlessly, “fuck, I’m sorry if I hurt you. I swear you are affecting me too much.”
“You didn’t hurt me, I loved it so much.” You stub his neck with your nose. “I hope that you and I never ever stop being together.”
“Yeah, I hope so too.” Jungkook gets to his elbows, smoothing his fingers over your forehead and temples gently. Pearls of sweat have gathered on it. Jungkook feels sweaty too.
You smile at him, scratching his back.
“You know that I love you like crazy, right?” he says.
“I love you too.”
He finally smiles, eyes softening. You snicker because of it, cradling his face so you can squish his cheeks. Jungkook lets it happen, having to snicker right with you. Nothing feels as electric as being with you.
“So I guess we are kinda running the pack now, aren’t we?” you say.
“I guess we are.”
“What’s first on our agenda?”
“Mhm.” He thinks for a moment, tingling with every touch you place on his skin. “Mhm, probably cooking a massive breakfast and then devouring it in ten minutes.”
You laugh, “yeah okay, deal.”
“Deal. I’m so hungry.” He slips out and sits up. You follow suit, spilling him all over the sheets.
“Maybe I have to clean up first”, you say, shifting uncomfortably.
“Mhm?” He studies your messy thighs and messier pussy. “Fuck, yeah maybe you should. Wanna share a shower? True mates style.”
“True mates style? What’s that?”
“It means that I’m gonna look at you a lot and tell you how much I need you in my life”, he says, making you giggle.
summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.
after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?
pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader
genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff (?)
word count: 5.1k
warnings: you’re gonna get sick of the title loll, brief alcohol consumption, this is lowkey pwp (there will be more plot soon i promise) swearing, explicit sexual content (mdni), kissing, making out, fingering, oral (m. receiving), he’s very cocky but also pathetic, multiple orgasms, lots of banter and teasing as dirty talk, petnames (baby), jk calls oc a brat x2, multiple positions, insinuated aftercare, let me know if i missed anything!
notes: you guys built this fic!! this was supposed to be out on thursday but i realised i was being wayy to ambitious cuz i definitely needed more than two days to write this loll. but alas, it’s here :3 as always, likes, comments, reblogs, feedback and asks are very appreciated! enjoy reading angels <33
ps. THERE WILL BE A PART TWO!!
⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback
You fumble with your keys, swaying just slightly as you try to jab the right one into the lock. Behind you, Jungkook’s laughing under his breath, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on the back of your neck.
“Need help?” he asks, the amusement in his voice unmistakable.
“I’ve got it,” you say, jabbing the key with exaggerated precision. The door finally clicks open, and you push it in with a triumphant, “Ha!”
“You’re so competent,” he deadpans, clapping a mock applause as he follows you in. His shoulder bumps yours as he passes. “It’s honestly inspiring.”
You kick off your shoes, tossing your keys into the bowl by the door. “And you’re so annoying,” you mutter, but there’s no heat in it.
Jungkook drops onto your couch like it’s his own, sprawling out like he owns the place. Which, in some ways, he kind of does.
A hoodie of his is already slung over the back of a kitchen chair, from some night two weeks ago when he stayed too late and decided not to drive home. There’s an energy drink in your fridge with his name written on the lid in Sharpie. The blanket he’s tugging over his lap? That’s the one he gifted you for Christmas, mostly so he could use it whenever he came over.
It’s always been like this.
He tosses his denim jacket on the couch as you grab two bottles of water from the fridge, chucking one to him without warning. He catches it with the ease.
“You were definitely flirting with that bartender,” he says, unscrewing the cap and looking at you with that maddeningly smug smile.
You scoff. “He had a mullet and called me ‘miss.’ It wasn’t flirting— it was survival.”
“Sure,” he says, nodding like he totally believes you. “That’s why you laughed at everything he said, even when he asked if you liked your tequila neat.”
“It was neat!” you say, defensive and laughing at the same time. “And besides, you flirted with the girl in the fishnets for, like, an hour.”
He shrugs. “Guilty. She had good taste in music. And thighs.”
You groan and flop down beside him on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your thigh brushes his, but you don’t move. Neither does he. The buzz from the party is still warm in your blood, and the apartment feels too quiet now — too intimate without the noise and lights and other bodies.
“You ever think we’re just... really bad at dating?” you ask, staring at the ceiling.
“Constantly,” Jungkook says, without hesitation.
You glance at him. “Like, maybe we peaked in college.”
He makes a face. “Don’t say that. I refuse to believe my best years happened while I was still eating instant ramen and failing comp sci.”
You laugh, and he turns his head toward you, watching you with that soft-eyed expression you know too well. There’s something about Jungkook when he’s like this — no bravado, no teasing smirk, just... present. His hair is a mess from the wind, and a dark tank top hugs his figure.
He’s too comfortable here. Too familiar.
“I genuinely think I’ve forgotten what a good kiss feels like,” you say, mostly to the ceiling, like it’s a throwaway thought.
Jungkook hums. “That bad, huh?”
“It’s not even bad, it’s just...” You trail off, searching for the word. “Empty. Mechanical. Like everyone’s going through the motions, but nobody’s actually there.”
He shifts slightly, angling his body more toward you. “So no decent kissers at all lately?”
You shake your head. “No decent anything, if I’m honest.”
He raises an eyebrow, curious.
You hesitate, but the alcohol in your system makes it easier to say what you probably wouldn’t sober. “I haven’t slept with anyone in like... almost a year.”
Jungkook blinks, not in judgment, just surprised. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” You rub at your temple with a laugh. “I didn’t plan it or anything. It just kind of... kept not happening. And then it became this weird streak, and now here we are.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“Well,” he says eventually, “maybe your standards are just too high.”
“Or maybe men are just mid,” you shoot back.
That gets a laugh out of him, loud and bright. He tips his head back, and you watch his throat move as he laughs. Too long. Too hard. When he calms down, he gives you a look — something mischievous that you've grown to know too well over the years.
"What?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at him with a smile.
He shrugs. “I mean... I could help."
“With my standards?”
“With the streak.”
You snort. “What, you offering?”
“Maybe.”
You tilt your head. “So what? You wanna bang it out?”
It’s meant to be funny. You’re grinning when you say it. But when you look at him — really look — he’s not laughing.
His gaze lingers on your mouth for a beat too long. Then his eyes flick up to yours.
“Just this once?” he asks, voice low. Careful. Like he’s giving you an out.
You don’t answer right away. The room goes still. The hum of the fridge feels too loud. His eyes are still on you, and it’s not a look you’ve ever seen from him before.
Your heart stutters in your chest.
You swallow. “Wouldn't it be weird?”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away.
“Only if we let it be.”
You sit there for a second, the weight of it all hitting a little too fast. Your brain’s still catching up to your mouth, to the way your body’s buzzing — not from the alcohol anymore, but from him. From the heat in his eyes, the way he said it — almost like a dare.
And then his expression shifts.
His eyes flick away, and his tongue runs over the silver ring on his bottom lip, like he’s pulling it back, reeling it in.
“Only if you want to, obviously,” he says, quieter this time. “We don’t have to.”
He starts to lean back like he's resetting the mood — like this moment can still be folded back into the safety of your usual teasing — but you stop him.
You move first.
You grab the front of his tank top — not hard, not dramatic, just enough — and you pull him in.
You kiss him.
It’s abrupt. Heat over hesitation. A split-second decision that tastes like tequila and impulse, like comfort and fuck it all wrapped up in the same breath.
At first, he doesn’t move, frozen in surprise. But then he kisses you back — really kisses you back — and suddenly you're not thinking anymore.
His hand slides to your thigh, just enough pressure to ground you, and you shift toward him instinctively, knees brushing his. His mouth moves against yours with a kind of focused laziness, like he’s savouring it. Like he’s trying to figure out exactly how you taste.
You pull back half a second, just to breathe, lips brushing his as you mutter, “Took you long enough.”
He laughs into your mouth, low and smug. “You kissed me.”
“Yeah, well. You looked like you were gonna bail.”
“I was being respectful,” he says, voice muffled against your jaw as he starts kissing along it. “But sure, let’s call it bailing.”
You gasp a little when he nips at your neck, just enough pressure to make you arch toward him. Your hands slide under his top, fingers skimming the warm skin of his back, and he shivers under your touch.
“Jesus,” you murmur. “How are you this built? You eat, like, gas station snacks and leftover noodles.”
“I work out,” he mutters between kisses, grinning as he drags his mouth back to yours. “Also, you’ve seen me shirtless.”
“Yeah, but not like this.”
“Like what?”
You tug him closer until your chest presses to his. “Like I get to touch.”
That shuts him up real quick.
He kisses you again, this time more urgently, and you feel the change in the air — less teasing, more want. Your legs shift to straddle his lap without thinking, your hands sliding up into his hair, tugging just a little.
He groans, deep and rough, biting down on your bottom lip before kissing it better. You rock your hips forward slightly and he bucks up into you with a hiss.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.
You smirk against his mouth. “You offered, remember?”
“Yeah, and I’m rapidly realising that was a dangerous choice.”
You laugh, breathless, before kissing him again. He tastes like beer and something sweeter — probably the gum he always chews. You bite his lip and feel him groan into your mouth, hips jerking beneath you.
His fingers slip under your shirt, warm on your skin. Not rushed, just exploring — like he’s been curious for a while and is finally allowed to look.
You roll your hips again, slower this time, and his head drops back against the cushion with a low fuck that makes your stomach flip.
“You still sure about this?” you ask, teasing, as your hands drag down his chest, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.
His eyes open — dark, focused, amused.
“You gonna stop me if I say no?”
You shake your head. “Nope.”
“Then yeah,” he says, breath hitching as your fingers reach his abdomen. “I’m very sure.”
He catches your fingers before you can finish unbuttoning his jeans.
You raise a brow, breath still uneven. “Seriously?”
He nods, steady, calm in a way that only makes your pulse pound harder. “I said I was helping you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but I thought that was like... a mutual helping situation.”
His mouth twitches. “You always gotta argue when I’m trying to do something nice?”
You open your mouth to throw something back — something biting, something stupid — but he leans in and kisses you before you can get the words out. One hand still wrapped around your wrist, the other cupping your jaw.
He pulls back just enough to speak.
“Let me take care of you.”
You stare at him for a beat, heart kicking hard in your chest.
“Fine,” you mutter, trying to sound unbothered. “But don't expect any thank yous or shit.”
“I’ll survive,” he says, already smirking as his fingers work at your jeans. “Though, for the record, I think you’re gonna want to.”
You snort — right before he pops the button of your jeans and drags the zipper down, knuckles brushing your skin. You shiver.
“God, you’re cocky.”
He glances up, eyes flicking to yours. “You saying I haven’t earned it?”
You don’t answer. Your breath stutters when his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, palm flush against you.
He stills.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “You’re wet already?”
“Shut up.”
He smiles cockily.
You roll your eyes — try to, anyway — but your thighs are already parting, your body moving without conscious thought. His fingers slide into you, testing the waters, and your head tips back with a soft sigh.
He watches your face like he’s waiting for something. When your mouth parts, when your hips twitch toward his hand, that’s when he moves.
His thumb finds your bud and he's gentle at first. Circling, then rubbing just a little firmer. You bite your lip hard, trying not to give him the satisfaction of the noises building in your throat.
“Still not thanking you,” you say through clenched teeth.
“Oh, you will,” he says, low. “Eventually.”
You glare at him. He grins back, fingers dragging lower, slipping in without resistance. You suck in a breath, and he laughs softly under it.
“Okay?” he asks, suddenly serious again.
You nod, maybe too quickly. “Yeah. More than okay.”
He starts moving his fingers — slow at first, too slow. Like he’s enjoying making you wait. You squirm, trying to rock your hips into his hand, but he tightens his grip on your thigh.
“Nuh-uh,” he says, eyes gleaming. “You’re letting me do the work, remember?”
“I hate you.”
“You’re literally grinding on my hand right now.”
You reach out blindly and smack his chest. He doesn’t even flinch — just slips another finger in, and your breath catches so hard it punches the air from your lungs.
“There it is,” he murmurs.
His thumb picks up a rhythm again, and the pressure starts to build fast. He knows it, too. His free hand slides around your waist, steadying you as your body starts to shake. Your fist curls into the soft fabric of his top, needing something to hold onto.
“Still hate me?” he asks, voice rougher now, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.
“Don’t flatter yourself— fuck—”
“Yeah?” His fingers curl just right, and your whole body tenses. “Right there?”
You nod, desperate, eyes squeezed shut. Your thighs are shaking. You’re so close you can’t even keep up the bit.
“Say it,” he says.
“Say what?”
“Tell me how good I make you feel.”
You groan. “Jesus, Jungkook—”
He slows down suddenly, barely moving his hand.
You whine. Actually whine.
“That’s not what I asked for.”
“God, you’re annoying,” you say, breathless.
He grins. “You're the one being the brat here.”
You drag your eyes open and glare at him, but it’s all heat now. All want. You lean in close, lips pressing against his.
"Fuck— fine. You feel so fucking good, Kook. Please, just don't stop."
He doesn’t.
He kisses you hard and fast, and his fingers start again, slick and firm and relentless. Your body clenches around him and this time, you don’t even try to hold the sounds back. His name leaves your mouth like muscle memory, and he groans into your kiss, like he’s the one coming undone.
When you break the kiss to suck in air, he presses his forehead to yours, voice rough in your ear.
“That’s it. Let go for me.”
You do.
Your body arches, thighs trembling as the orgasm washes over you sharp and fast. Your fingers dig into his back, into his top, into anything that keeps you tethered.
He doesn’t stop until you’re gasping, twitching, pushing his hand away because you’re too sensitive now.
He pulls back finally, breath warm against your skin, his fingers wet. He looks at you, gaze heavy, lips parted.
Then, without a word, he brings his fingers to your mouth.
“Open,” he says, low and steady.
You blink at him, your body still humming, brain half-melted. “What—?”
He brushes two slick fingers against your bottom lip, and your mouth parts on instinct.
“You said no thank yous,” he says, smirking. “So this’ll do.”
You glare at him, but your lips close around his fingers anyway. He watches every second — the way your mouth wraps around them, the way your tongue slides against the pads. His expression flickers from cocky to wrecked.
“Shit,” he mutters, voice rough now, the smugness cracking around the edges.
You suck once, slow and purposeful, eyes locked on his, and he jerks slightly under you — hips twitching like your mouth is on him instead. When you pull off with a soft pop, your lips are swollen and wet.
“You said mutual help,” you murmur, breath still catching on the end of every word. “It’s your turn.”
He blinks, like he’s short-circuiting.
You slide off his lap slowly, hands dragging down his chest, and his breath catches when you settle between his legs on your knees. You palm him over his jeans, and he hisses, already hard under your touch.
“Fuck,” he mutters, head tipping back.
“You okay there?” you ask, voice sweet, taunting. “Or do you need me to go slower?”
He looks down at you, pupils blown, jaw clenched. “Don’t be a brat.”
You unbutton his jeans, real slow, enjoying the way he twitches under your hands. “No promises.”
You drag the zipper down, tugging his jeans and boxers low enough to free him. He’s flushed and heavy, tip already glistening, and you swear you see his hips flex at just the sight of your mouth this close.
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You look way too good down there.”
You wrap your hand around his cock, giving one slow stroke, and he groans like it surprises him.
You start slow. Just your hand. Thumb brushing over the sensitive ridge under the head, watching his thighs tense beneath your touch. His head drops back against the couch cushion, and you feel the way his hips subtly shift toward you, like his body’s trying to chase more without him even realising it.
You lean in and lick a slow stripe from base to tip, tongue flat, deliberate. His breath catches — then shudders out of him like you’ve knocked the air from his lungs.
“Shit,” he mutters again, voice strained.
You hum like you agree, and wrap your lips around the head, just barely. You suck, not hard — just enough to make him twitch. Your hand works in tandem, slow, steady strokes, and your mouth follows, inching lower until the tip presses against the back of your throat.
He moans, raw and wrecked. “Fuck, baby—”
The pet name is barely more than a gasp, almost like it slipped out without permission. Your stomach flips at the sound it.
His voice borders on the line of sounding pathetic, and it makes you want to press your thighs together.
You fall into rhythm — your lips sliding over him, tongue pressed firm underneath, hand twisting where your mouth leaves off. Every now and then, you let yourself get sloppy. Let the sound of it echo between you, let him hear what he’s doing to you.
He’s falling apart above you. You can tell by the way his hand flexes and releases in your hair, the way his thighs tremble every time you sink a little deeper. He’s breathing hard now, jaw slack, eyes barely open. Watching you. Like he still can’t believe this is real.
“God, your mouth—” His voice cuts off into a moan when you swallow around him, deep and slow. "You're gonna be the death of me."
You pull off just long enough to breathe, lips slick, chin wet. “You deserve it.”
He laughs, but it breaks halfway through. Your hand doesn’t stop moving.
“You like watching me fall apart, huh?”
You look up through your lashes, tongue flicking over the head. “More than a little.”
You go back down — deeper this time — and he chokes on a groan. His hips jerk up too sharply and he curses, hands fisting hard in your hair.
“Shit— I’m—” He’s panting now, thighs shaking. “I’m not gonna last if you keep— fuck, don’t—”
You suck harder, then moan around him just to hear the sound he makes. It’s almost a whimper.
“Baby, stop— wait— fuck— please—”
You pull off with a wet pop just before he tips over the edge, lips red and swollen, saliva clinging to your chin. He’s barely keeping it together. Chest heaving, flushed to the neck, cock twitching where it rests against his stomach.
“You were right there,” you say, feigning innocence, voice soft and ruined.
“Exactly," he says, sitting up. "I'm not done with you yet."
He drags the fabric of his top over his head, tossing it aside without a second thought. The moment it’s off, your breath catches.
Fuck.
He’s all golden skin and sharp lines, chest heaving, abs flexing with every breath. His tattoos curl over his shoulder and down his arm, black ink stark against flushed skin. His cock’s still hard, flushed dark, resting against his stomach, twitching when he sees the way you’re looking at him.
And you — still kneeling between his legs — can’t look away.
Then you rise, shaky but determined, and pull your top over your head, letting it fall. His eyes snap to your chest, lips parting like he’s just been punched in the gut. You're movements are purposefully slow as you pull down your jeans, then your panties.
“Jesus,” he mutters, eyes dragging down your body. “You’re a fucking dream.”
You crawl back into his lap, your bare skin meeting his, and the contact makes both of you gasp. You straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he groans the moment your heat presses against his cock.
He fumbles for a condom, pulling it out from an inner pocket in the jacket he’d draped onto the couch earlier.
You watch as he tears it open and rolls it on, fingers practiced but tense. You reach between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance, and the second his tip slides against your soaked folds, his grip tightens on your hips.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice shaking.
You sink down slowly, inch by thick inch, and your nails bite into his shoulders as you stretch around him. He’s big — your pussy gripping him tight, wet and pulsing as he fills you up. Every nerve lights up, every breath gets harder to catch.
“Holy fuck—” His head drops to your chest, groaning against your skin. “You’re so tight. So fucking warm. Gonna make me lose it.”
You whimper as you bottom out, walls fluttering around him. You can feel every vein, every twitch. It’s almost too much. Almost.
But not enough.
You start to move — slow, dragging lifts of your hips, circling them on the way back down. He watches, hands clamped on your ass, guiding the grind of your body like he already knows how to make you fall apart again.
You ride him, pace picking up fast, desperate. Every time your hips drop, the base of his cock grinds against your clit, slick sounds filling the room with every slap of skin against skin. His cock hits deep, stretching you wide, and a moan passes your lips.
He groans are low and guttural, eyes locked to where your bodies meet. “Goddamn, baby. Watching you fuck yourself on my cock— shit— never gonna forget this.”
You’re panting now, thighs burning, rhythm faltering. You try to keep going, but your legs are shaking.
He notices.
Without a word, he shifts under you, plants his feet flat on the floor, and grabs your hips tight.
“Let me help you, yeah?”
You nod. “Please.”
He starts thrusting up into you.
You cry out, spine arching, hands flying to his shoulders to hold on as he fucks you from underneath, sharp and deep. His hips snap up into you, cock pressing into your sweet spot over and over again.
The new angle is obscene. Filthy.
“Fuck, Jungkook— holy shit—”
He smirks up at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “That’s it. Take it, baby. Look at you— so cockdrunk already.”
Your pussy clenches around him, soaked and messy, and the sound of it is downright pornographic. His balls slap against your ass with every brutal thrust, and you can’t even think anymore. Just feel.
Your head falls back, hips rocking with his. “W-we’re still best friends, right, Kook?”
His rhythm stutters, hips slamming up too hard, too deep, and his jaw drops slightly like he’s not sure if he actually heard you right. His pupils are blown, face flushed, and he stares at you like you just kicked the last brain cell out of his skull.
“What the fuck,” he pants. “You can’t say that. Not when I’m— fuck— inside you.”
You whimper, walls clenching around him like your body’s reacting to how wrecked he sounds.
“That’s so fucked up,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Say it again and I might actually come on the spot.”
You huff out a weak laugh at that, hands tangling in his hair, and he groans, fucking you harder, deeper — like he needs to wipe the thought of friendship off your brain with every snap of his hips.
“Y-Yeah,” you gasp. “So close, fuck— don’t stop—”
He doesn’t. One hand slips between your bodies, fingers rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit while he pounds into you. You sob his name, hips stuttering, body locking up.
“Come on,” he grits out. “Wanna feel you squeeze me.”
That’s all it takes.
You break with a cry, body clamping down around him as your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train. Your pussy pulses around his cock, milking him, soaking him, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.
He slows just a little — just enough to let you ride it out — but he doesn’t pull out. He’s still hard inside you, jaw tight, eyes blown wide.
You collapse forward, panting into his neck, spent.
His hands slide down your spine, warm and possessive. “You good?”
You nod, still breathless. “Yeah. Jesus.”
"Good." He swiftly lifts you off him just enough to slip out, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But he doesn’t give you time to think.
He shifts, guiding you onto your back, his body following yours down to the couch. His hands frame your face as he settles between your legs, and when he presses back into you — thick and hard.
His eyes roam over you like he’s never seen anything more obscene or more beautiful. Your lips are swollen, parted in a messy moan. There’s a faint smudge of mascara under one eye from when you’d cried out his name, and your skin’s glowing — sweaty, flushed, wrecked.
“You’re so pretty like this,” he says, voice gone rough. “All fucked out for me.”
You pull him down into a kiss before you can think. It’s open-mouthed, greedy, teeth clashing a little. His hips start to move again, slow at first — long, deep thrusts that make your breath catch every time he bottoms out.
You wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him deeper. His chest brushes yours, sticky skin against sticky skin, and your nails rake down his back.
He gasps into your mouth. “Fuck—”
“More,” you breathe, nails dragging again, leaving angry red lines down the muscle of his back. “Please.”
His hips snap harder, pace picking up again. He braces one hand beside your head and the other slides up your thigh, gripping tight enough to bruise. Your body rocks with every thrust, his cock slamming into you, the slap of his hips against yours louder now.
“You feel that?” he grits out, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping down his temple. “How tight you are around me? Fuck— I’m so deep, baby, you’re taking me so fucking good.”
You moan loud at his words, head falling back against the cushions.
He kisses down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast — open-mouthed, wet kisses that make your skin burn. Then he’s back at your mouth, kissing you like it’s the only way he knows how to breathe.
He watches you with the kind of hunger that makes your stomach flip, watching how your brows pinch, how your mouth trembles, how you twitch around him with every stroke like you’re on the edge all over again.
And fuck, you are.
“Touch me,” you gasp, voice raw. “Kook, please—”
His fingers snake down your stomach, rubbing tight, perfect circles against your clit, synced with the rhythm of his thrusts. You cry out, thighs shaking around his waist, and he just watches — eyes dark and wild, like he can’t believe what he’s doing to you.
You clench hard around him, and he curses, slamming into you deeper, grinding at the end of each stroke.
“Gonna come again?” he pants. “Wanna come on my cock like that, baby? Let me feel you soak me?”
You’re nodding before he finishes, tears prickling in your eyes from how fucking intense it is. “Yes— yes, fuck, don’t stop—”
He kisses you as you fall apart — moaning into your mouth, swallowing every sound. You come again, whole body seizing around him. Your nails dig in, and he hisses at the pain, thrusting through it, fucking you right through the high.
When it ebbs, your body goes limp under him, chest heaving, lips swollen, slick dripping between your thighs.
Jungkook fucks into you again — slow, deep, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you pulsing around him. His breath stutters, muscles drawn tight, every thrust rougher than the last.
“I’m not gonna last,” he pants, voice wrecked.
You bring your hands up to his hair, lightly tugging at his locks as you whisper, “Wanna feel you.”
He chokes on a moan, slamming into you one final time as he comes hard, cock twitching deep inside as he fills the condom.
His arms shake, muscles locked tight, and his face is buried in your neck as he rides it out, breath ragged, skin flushed and burning. You feel every pulse of it, every tremble in his frame, and all you can do is hold him there — legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms tangled around his shoulders, your nails still leaving stinging trails across his skin.
He presses kisses against your neck and jaw, eventually trailing up to your lips before pulling back to just look at you.
"I— you're perfect."
You smile, a familiar warmth enveloping your cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, you can stop with the flattery."
But he doesn’t smile back right away. He just watches you, quiet. Like he’s still catching up to the weight of what just happened. What’s still happening.
His hand drifts to your waist, thumb brushing lazily over your damp skin. “Let me run you a bath.”
You blink. “A bath?”
He nods, lips brushing your temple. “Yeah. You’re shaky. And I kinda wrecked you.”
You snort, catching the smugness in his voice. “What happened to, ‘Shit, baby, if you don’t stop I’m gonna come down your throat’?”
He groans, laughing. “Okay, first of all— rude. Second, I don’t sound like that.”
“Mm, you definitely do.”
He pinches your side lightly. “Keep talking, I’ll re-enact it right now.”
You shut up. But you’re smiling.
He stands a moment later, disappearing into the bathroom. You hear the water running, the soft clatter of bottles, his voice humming something low and familiar.
When he comes back, he tosses you a towel and holds out a hand, that same easy smile on his face. The one you’ve known forever. The one that makes everything feel… normal.
Even now.
You lace your fingers with his, let him pull you up.
Your legs are jelly. His hand doesn’t let go.
And as you follow him into the bathroom, skin still marked by his touch, lips still swollen from his kiss, a quiet thought flickers at the edge of your mind.
You guys were still best friends.
Right?
→ read part two here
taglist | click here to join: @thegreatdepressionme @golden-loona @kissyfacekoo @cookysstuff @whoa-jo @minghaosimp
synopsis: going to the beach won’t stop you and your needy boyfriend from having some summer fun.. warnings: 18+ mdni, size difference, pwp, clit/nipple play, semi public sex, ‘good girl’, unprotected sex (don’t), nsfw, soft dom!jjk (no rough sex/ daddy kink!)
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⋆˙⟡ currently playing: so high - doja cat
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‘Be quiet baby or someone is going to hear us’ Jungkook murmurs as you whimper his name when you fully sink down on his cock. Although you highly doubt if the small tent will hide all your noises you bite your lip trying to mute your moans.
Jungkook’s hands find your hips as you begin to ride him, whimpering as it hurts since you’re not fully used to his size yet. ‘Are you okay love?’ He murmurs as he notices you struggling to fully take his length, he pressed soft kisses along your jaw while rubbing soothing circles on your back.
‘Mhm I can take it’ you manage to say as you take a deep breath lifting your hips and sinking back down slowly making your eyes roll back in pleasure, causing Jungkook to loudly groan as he lays back letting you ride him.
‘Ah kook.. you’re so big..’ you whimper as you find yourself bouncing up and down his girthy cock. ‘Mhm you can take it, just be a good girl and bounce up and down for me can you do that?’ He murmurs as his lips find your right nipple, his tongue lapping circles around your areola as he fully takes the peak of your breast into his mouth. Biting it softly and then soothing it with his wet tongue causing you to sigh in pleasure. His other hand finds your left tit, he lightly squeezes it as he rolls the hard peak between his fingers. Giving both your tits attention he switches to sucking your left boob, also lightly biting it causing you too whimper his name uncontrollably.
‘Kook.. I’m close-‘ you whimper as the double stimulation is making you go insane, you feel a familiar coil in your stomach as he keeps on hitting your g-spot with each of his deep thrusts. your body running out of energy. Jungkook immediately notices as he rolls you onto your back, he hovers on top of you as he sucks hickeys on your neck, leaving a mark to make sure you remember him the next day.
He now thrusts into you from a deeper angle causing you too moan loudly. He slowly sucks a hickey right under your pulse point causing you too cry out in pleasure, the teasing being too much. He quickly stuffs two fingers into your mouth muffling your sounds, wanting to avoid getting heard by other visitors on the beach. ‘Mhm be a good girl and suck on my fingers’ he groans as you eagerly suck on his pointer and middle finger. Your orgasm building up as you clench around his hard cock.
He then soothingly presses wet sloppy kisses over his hickeys knowing they sting from the soft biting. You dig your nails in his back leaving red marks as you are on the verge of cumming.
‘Are you close baby’ he asks noticing how you continuously clench your gummy walls around his cock, your only answer being a weak whimper. He releases his fingers from your mouth capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he speeds up his pace, also chasing his own release.
He starts circling your puffy and neglected bundle of nerves in quick circles as your orgasm crashes over you like a truck, your vision turning black for a second as he burries his face in your neck painting your walls white with his hot seed. You squirt on his cock, your mixture of arousal and his cum leaking onto your towel as you breathe heavily.
‘Mhm good girl take all my cum’ he groans as he falls limp onto your body pressing soft kisses all over your face. ‘You did so good baby, squirting all over my cock’ he praises as he pulls his cock out of your leaking hole with a small plop, causing you to pout as your hole is left empty. He rolls onto his back pulling you on top of him, making sure to not touch your oversensitive clit or pussy. ‘Thank you baby’ he coos as you relax against his toned chest tracing his tattoos with your finger.
‘Mhm love you koo’ you whisper as you press a soft kiss to the mole under his lips.
‘I love you more pretty’ he murmurs as you close your eyes and melt into his touch.
He is yours, forever.
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ authors note: tysm for reading! Hope yall enjoyed don’t forget to leave a like and reblog <3
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ! important note: please do not copy or spam interact my posts. I appreciate your support but it will sadly shadow ban me and I will have to block u :(
no matter how much you deny the connection between you and jungkook, time and place binds you both together with a red string. after an argument, you believed it was all over – yet what if, within the hush of an old wine cellar, you found yourselves closer than ever?
genre : smut, frenemies to lovers, light angst.
warnings | tags : mdni! unprotected s£x (wrap it up), handjob, creamp!e, playing with pu&sy, lowk childhood sweethearts, avoidant oc, s£x inside a wine cellar, oc pretends to hate jk, mutual pining, jk is a loser in love, making out, mild argument, confessions, past flashbacks, t!tty sucking, nicknames, dirty talking etc.
word count : 4.7k+
you had absolutely no intention whatsoever to mend things with jeon jungkook. you hated his guts and seeing his face right now didn’t seem like a good idea either.
mentally, you made a list of cuss words that you could use on yourself because you had agreed to visit the jeon family’s estate earlier this week.
“i already talked to jungkook’s father. it would be very disappointing if you bail out right now”
your parents sat with folded hands on either side of the couch while you stood still near the staircase, that rounded up three storeys high in the house.
“your parents are asking for you downstairs miss”, earlier in the morning you weren’t particularly elated when your househelp knocked on the bedroom door while whispering cautiously.
“—now would you stop rolling your eyes y/n?”
you stopped yourself from clicking your tongue as a response to your annoyed mother’s words.
“i can guarantee that you won’t see jungkook! just go down to their winery and you’ll find mr. jeon waiting in there as promised!”
“—yes absolutely. so just take the wine from him with a polite smile and come back home. that’s it! and moreover i don’t understand your problem with jungkook?” your father added.
the moment jungkook’s name left your father mouth, a sour taste engulfed on the back of your tongue.
you painfully recalled,
last week at a charity dinner organised by one of your father’s business associate, you had way too much wine to drink (because of jungkook) and quote unquote apparently had ranted a few tons about the aftertaste of the bitter liquor that was served in there to mr. jeon out of all people!
everybody knew that the jeon’s family owned the country’s largest wine domaine and out of good relations with your parents, he instinctively had invited you over to present some of their finest creations, after a round of wholesome laughter.
“you should stop by sometime next week y/n dear, it’ll be my pleasure to give you a tour of my wine collection!”
and that is how you had landed in this messy situation where you were supposed to go for wine tasting and pick up some authentic bottles from the jeon’s.
your father being a wine connoisseur himself chimed in with joined hands and murmured something about respecting the elders but however, this whole scenario wouldn’t be a pain in the ass if it weren’t for the fight that happened between you and the youngest son of the jeon family.
from whatever you could recapture, you always remembered that jeon jungkook was annoying as hell. you knew him from your childhood days since your parents were bosom friends, and belonging to the same clique you had to be around jungkook regardless, without a choice.
“—i think you’re overreacting”
you weren’t even supposed to attend this party in the first place but nonetheless, now, you were stuck inside a random supply room with jungkook infront of you, suited in a tailored tuxedo.
he was the one who had pulled you inside to ‘talk things out’ and when you followed him in, he had the audacity to call it overreacting??
“what the hell is wrong with you? you think you’re all that?” you refused to tone down as you glared right back into his shiny doe eyes.
“you will never get what you want from me!” you said strictly as you tried to suppress the clenching feeling inside your heart.
“yeah? and it takes barely two minutes for you to melt right back into me” he paused momentarily to lazily smirk at you “which brings me to my point that, i’m starting to think you’re in love with me”
you flushed red at the choice of his words and wanted to slap the sly smirk off his pouty pink lips.
it was literally your fault to involve yourself with a person like him.
you couldn’t stand jungkook’s nerve from the very beginning but somehow his teasing remarks and fluttering touches left you craving for more.
that is also how you ended up in a strictly ‘sex only’ relationship with him earlier this year.
“i cannot give what you’re expecting from me and the sex isn’t even that good either to be honest” you lied through your teeth knowing no one else had you undone better than him,
and your heart twisted as you looked at his neat hair which was pulled back from his forehead with some hair gel.
for some reason, jungkook knew exactly how to make your eyes roll back and legs shake in pleasure.
his expression shifted slightly, with pain visible in his eyes, “that’s not what you said last night” he replied softly.
yeah no, you were actually screaming the exact opposite, begging him, god, karma, everything else in presence as he bent you over on his desk while brutally slamming his cock inside your squelching cunt.
you did not want to give jungkook the satisfaction of winning but your heart clenched as you knew that his accusations were true.
“i’m so over this, i don’t even want to see your annoying face ever again” you whispered the last bit hoping he didn’t hear it but it was far too late,
“well if that’s what you want!” he leaned close just enough to make sure his breath was touching your face, “then that’ll be it” he straightened back up again and with that he left the room, the door closing behind him and leaving you oh so overwhelmed with everything.
you felt your eyes getting glassy because you knew deep within you were far too gone. way too invested in this arrangement, and it wasn’t just sex for you anymore. you were afraid of losing him.
growing up in a different world you were always surrounded by selfish men who only liked you for what you brought to the table. they knew that your parents ran a well known family business which had years of goodwill and recurring profits in the market.
you were used and discarded by many but none of them left a hollow feeling like jungkook. he made you see stars, noticed every small shift in your mood, every little detail that you yourself weren’t aware of.
you hated how he knew exactly what to say and how he was always there for you when your life was going downhill.
he never failed to put a bandaid over your wounds with his stupid uncool jokes and random surprises.
you did not like how much control he had over your emotions and maybe slowly along the way, it also made you sort of dependent on him for stability.
but, jeon jungkook was the most spontaneous and unserious person you’ve ever met.
you knew deep within that he would never settle down for something serious.
hence you decided to put some distance between you both, so as to ‘fix’ your feelings and get over him as soon as possible.
but without even realising you let him into your closeted heart and maybe that turned out to be your biggest mistake.
you didn’t do relationships well because you struggled alot with expressing your emotions and neither did jungkook.
whatever you both had was complicated but that didn’t stop neither one of you from slipping into eachother’s arms at every given opportunity.
the mixed signals, unresolved feelings were sending jungkook off the roof, and therefore he decided to communicate for once,
but he realised you had shut him off already.
you stepped out of your sleek black mercedes which dropped you infront of the jeon’s property.
the driver shut the door while you prayed for not confronting jungkook anywhere. it almost felt as if you were sneaking in like a thief, looking cautiously here and there before adjusting the humongous sunglasses on your face.
while walking through the garden, you tried to hide behind every bush which lead you to the front door.
you couldn’t afford to see his face at any cost.
“i’m so glad you made it dear” a soft voice echoed in the space as mrs jeon (jungkook’s mother) smiled warmly at you.
you entered their living room with a slow cautious motion and returned her smile back politely, just like you were taught since childhood.
‘pretty’ would an understatement to describe the cream wallpapers, soft gold chandeliers, the vintage fireplace, spotless tiles and the million dollar artefacts which were scattered throughout their living room.
they also had a generously cushioned sofaset sitting in the middle, similar to the one you had back at home which added perfect homely notes to the rest of the elements.
next, your wandering eyes reached up to the couple of picture frames kept neatly on top of the fireplace, and if you were to look more closely you’d be able to see two cute kids sitting under a cherry blossom tree with shy smiles adorned in their faces.
you remembered the common children’s park where your mother used take you when you were little.
you were an introvert growing up, and being such a quiet kid didn’t help at all because all the other children disliked your presence,
but however, jeon jungkook was the only one among them who made sure to include you in every silly game of his.
he would pull you along, call you his best friend and scold other kids when they tried to bully you.
“she’s always this quiet because she’s an angel and angels don’t talk” — that’s what he used to say.
you wondered how much you both had changed after growing up.
“you both looked so cute with eachother” jungkook’s mother probably had noticed you staring at the picture.
“it’s a shame you aren’t together now…”
your expression shifted visibly and cheeks turned pink at her words, only out of embarrassment because you knew you were the one who pushed jungkook away. you couldn’t accept how perfect he was in everything without even trying.
you spent days and nights isolating yourself from him.
it’s not like your parents were hard on you either. it’s just that, it bothered you so much because he had everything done so effortlessly like — be it balancing his emotions, or scoring perfect grades, or winning school tournaments, or making you smile at the worst times,
you tried looking for him in other men but you were left with nothing but disappointment.
you knew that it was wrong and unfair, but you still drew a unrecoverable boundary between you both.
the irony was that you were scared of losing him, but you still kept pushing him away.
“sorry i shouldn’t have brought that up” the older woman sympathised with a small smile.
“why don’t you sit here for a moment while i go look for someone who can take you downstairs?” she gestured at the couch and sweetly grinned again.
you brushed your hair out of your face and took a deep breath to convince yourself that whatever you both had, was in the past and now the damage was already done.
“thank you” letting out a fake smile and sat yourself down on the soft surface, all while hoping this predicament to end soon so that you can finally go home and grab an unfinished fantasy book to escape from this world.
“—miss y/n? i’ll assist you to the basement. mr. jeon has been waiting for you”
a middle aged househelp politely bowed at you and motioned you towards the grand hallway, which lead to the staircase.
you mentally thanked all of divinity for letting you not run into jungkook.
as far as your knowledge went, you knew that his father stored some of their finest wine bottles down in the basement.
you also knew that there was a different property all together consisting of their infamous vineyard and a common cellar, located a little far from where their house was situated at.
it was the place where you and jungkook would mess around after school.
the kind woman opened the door for you and you were immediately hit with a strong sweetish-woody aroma.
“i’ll leave now miss, please feel free to call me if you need anything else” she bowed before leaving.
the dimly lighted room consisted of several racks, each filled with dark liquor bottles along with some large casks. it also had a few wooden tables scattered here and there on top of a reddish brown colored carpet which reflected a shade similar to that of the liquor stored above.
however, the room was very private and secluded altogether with no windows or doors other than the main entrance.
it felt cool, quiet, dark, but yet soothing enough.
“hello?” you called out as you treaded carefully down an aisle, “mr jeon? its me y/n”—
you stilled halfway through, pausing to look at the tall shadowy figure infront of you.
you recognised it immediately.
“j-jungkook!?” you screeched.
it was freaking jeon jungkook, standing with an unreadable expression while inspecting a bottle of red wine.
he glanced at you as though he was already expecting your presence,
“took you long enough” he said and went back at scrutinising the label of the bottle on his hand.
you were already feeling sick after looking your childhood pictures with him, and the overwhelming amount of sweet grape fragrance was adding more to that misery.
“what–what are you doing here?” you felt so dizzy that you didn’t realise what exactly was coming out of your mouth.
“good question” jungkook smirked iconically and kept the bottle down on the table infront of him.
the lighting was very dim but you could still make out his shirt sleeves being rolled up to reveal the dark ink lines of tattoos on his hand, each one of which you’ve memorised by now.
obviously! it was HIS house, HIS winery, HIS cellar, HIS basement.
you were the freaking outsider…
“dad had to go out for something urgent” he scanned you up and down and paused at your glossy lips to take your form in properly before adding, “—told me to show you around and give this to you” he pointed at the bottle which he just kept down on the wooden surface.
you sighed and accepted your defeated fate, “i’m going home” you turned back on your heels to walk out but were stopped abruptly by a warm hand grabbing your wrist,
“wait! you need to try out this noir atleast”
honestly the last thing you needed was wine on top of your growing misery. the room already felt so much smaller than it actually was.
“let me go jeon…” you pushed your tongue against your cheek.
“don’t wanna”
if you were to turn back right now, you’d find jungkook with a cheesy half smile on his pierced lips.
you tried to yank back your wrist but jungkook overpowered your strength and pulled you backwards to hit his muscular chest.
you let out a gasp and stumbled on his buffy pecs while he encircled his hands around your waist, to hold you super tightly against him.
“you’re always so stubborn hm?” you felt his mouth lean down near your ear which was warming you up every passing second.
“leave me alone you asshole” you tried a failed attempt to free his hands from your waist.
“still mad at me?” jungkook glanced down at your flushed face and a satisfied grin broke into his lips.
“shut up” you were pressed against him, down in the basement, where no one could hear you!
it was just you both, and an overwhelming amount of liquor.
you tried your best to keep up with the nonchalant persona but jungkook’s big arms which cuddled your frame, didn’t help much.
you hated to admit how much you liked it.
“…’m-sorry” you whispered almost inaudibly after a moment, “i didn’t mean whatever i said last weekend at the dinner”
something shifted in the air as jungkook loosened his arms around you.
you thought that this was it, now he would probably just kick you out with a bottle of their wine and never see you again anymore.
just like you had wanted (not really).
“princess” he sighed,
“you have no idea what you do to me”
you gasped loudly when he turned to lift you on the wooden table beside, by grabbing the softness of your thighs.
“huh?” you cluelessly looked at his face.
while parting your thighs he stood between them.
your small skirt rose up rapidly as he held you in place, and it was as though you couldn’t get a word out of your mouth.
“don’t you know?” the relentless tension between you both was sucking the air out of the room,
“know what?” you looked at him through your lashes with a small voice.
“that i’ve loved you since forever” jungkook moved his fingers to grab your jaw, “i cannot imagine a second without you baby. please don’t ever shut me off like that” he leaned forward to press a few kisses in the corner of your mouth.
your heart was beating so rapidly upon hearing his honey like voice. you recalled all the nights you cried relentlessly for hearing this from him.
you spent so much time denying your heart and in the process, it hurt him more than it did you.
“i’m such a horrible person kook. i’m sorry” your eyes filled up with moisture.
“i won’t do it again” you reached out to brush his soft hair covering half of his eyes. your heart was beating crazily against your ribcage. “i was so scared…”
“i know” he replied softly, “i should’ve made things easier”
“i also couldn’t stand you being near other girls”
“mhm right” he quickly smooched you directly on the lips as you glared at him with narrowed eyes,
“you better focus on me” the doe eyed boy nodded at you listening to whatever you had to say. “only me”
“and i need you to cook for me every night from now onwards as a punishment” jungkook nodded again as though he was discovering your traits for the first time.
he knew all that very well— what you disliked, what you liked, what pushed your buttons, what made you happy or sad.
he adored you too much and spent all his time learning how to be the perfect man for you.
“i’m sorry i kept pushing you away” you toyed with his lip piercing. “i thought you didn’t want me…”
“you didn’t say it back though” he pouted against your fingers as you cracked a wide teasing smile. “say what?”
he whined loudly.
“i love you so much” you whispered,
“—you have no idea you idiot”
you let your lips softly mould on his while pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt.
you should’ve said this long back. you should’ve given jungkook the chance he was always deserving of.
you had no idea why it took you both so much time.
jungkook let his lips immediately mould with yours before pulling you closer, if that was even possible and let his soft lips travel down the column of your neck where an adorable red flush danced across your skin.
“jungkook” you gasped again his mouth, “we— we can’t. not here” jungkook’s mom or the house help could walk in any moment and see you both indecently engaging in such activities.
“it’s my house. no one will come inside without my permission” jungkook’s face was equally flushed as he breathed heavily.
“now let me taste my girl” he rubbed your inner thighs soothingly before parting your black lacy panties aside to brush his fingers along your wet slit,
collecting the moisture from near the hole and the circling the ball of nerves on top with his thumb.
“you wore these for me baby?”
“yes k-kook” you nodded and threw your head back in pleasure.
“a-ahh” you moaned loudly as his long fingers teased your womanhood. “tell me what you want princess” he pressed feverish kisses and nipped against the open area of your throat, leaving scarlet marks all over the place.
“you. only you” you were beyond any sense of shame or decency. “hm where do you want me?” he teased your entrance with two of his veiny digits.
“inside me, please” you gasped out loud when he pushed his fingers into your warm walls, slowly scissoring his way inside.
“only sex huh?” he teased. “—your needy cunt is sucking in my fingers so good baby”
“i hate you” you turned your face away from his demanding lips as your body burnt hot with embarrassment and pleasure at the same time.
he suddenly removed his fingers, leaving you all empty. your gaping hole aching for more.
“…nooo don’t do that”
jungkook let out a breathy laugh in turn and pressed a kiss on your swollen lips sweetly. “sorry”
you allowed a teasing hand travel downward to rub on his clothed length.
you could feel him already getting big against your palm so you massaged the hardening length up and down with whatever experience you had gathered.
you still remembered the first time you had given him a blowjob — how gently he had guided you through the entire thing and praised you so well after.
your pussy throbbed with anticipation and you decided to torture him more by latching your lips to the ends of his ear.
jungkook hissed in return when you simultaneously rubbed his length and suckled near his sensitive spot.
“always want you so bad jungkookie” you attempted to pull down his black trousers and free his growing boner.
“yeah?”
“mhm. hate being away from you”
he attached his lips back on yours and sucked on them as though he couldn’t get enough,
you stroked his now exposed cock lazily, fingers stopping at the mushroom head to gather the sticky precum and stroke it again.
his veiny lenght twitched and throbbed with every pull of your hand.
“gonna fuck you so good princess”
you whimpered on his lips when he reached out to pull your top down to reveal your full and juicy tits.
“fuck these are gonna kill me someday” he let his eyes wander on the skin he just freed. your aching nipples hardened under his unwavering gaze and the chill air in the room.
you looked at him with fake innocence, “i think you’re in love with me” you sneakily threw the same words back at him with a small teasing smile as his eyes darkened in realisation,
“we’ve already established that, didn’t we?” he pushed you down to get more comfortable on the table and bent your knees against your chest in a mating press so that his hard on was directly pressing against your weeping pussy.
you moaned uncontrollably and rolled your eyes back at the feeling while he teasingly rubbed himself you.
your panties were still pulled aside, which gave him direct access to your wet entrance.
“you’re such a tease”
jungkook leaned a little closer just to latch his warm mouth on your nipple, sucking and licking the sensitive skin to leave you in a moaning mess.
he enclosed the entire areola inside his wet mouth with his lips tugging on them turn by turn.
“like that?” he glanced up from between your flushed mounds with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips,
“you’re so good kook…” you whimpered out and ran your fingers through his short hair.
one of his hands reached down to his aching length as he jerked himself while kissing the soft skin of your breasts.
his fingers kept on brushing on your drenched entrance as he stroked up and down.
“a-a-ah”
jungkook lifted himself up only to tear your thin underwear apart with trained experience and removed all the pieces from you to let his bulging dick deliciously massage your clit.
“mine, all mine”
you gasped loudly at the raw feeling and tried to muffle your moans against your free hand.
“let me hear you” jungkook slapped your hand away and bent you harder, smushing your thighs in the process before teasing your entrance with his mushroom head.
“baby i c-can’t…”
jungkook was enjoying this a little too much, while he was also equally throbbing with stimulation, he liked seeing you in a moaning-crying mess.
“so tight as always” he pretended to push his angry red cock head inside but pulled out again before your wetness could engulf him.
“please k-kook. fuck me. please” you knew that the only way of stopping the bratty man hovering on top of you was to give in and beg sweetly with teary eyes. and luckily this time he finally gave you what you wanted.
your throbbing cunt was messily leaking and it made it easier for jungkook to bully his thick length inside.
your hair was sprawled on the wooden surface and your body jerked with every inch he let inside you.
“a-ahh aagh shit” you moaned defencelessly as he bottomed out completely.
“you good my babygirl?” jungkook brushed a few unruly strands of hair from your face,
the nickname and soft touch of affection made your heart race and pussy clench uncontrollably.
“mhm so good” you nodded, clearly being cock drunk and jungkook rapidly took off his black tshirt before focusing his attention on your sweaty reddened tits,
“taking my cock so nicely” his fisted the plump mounds, with the nipple twisted between his digits, he started to pump in and out of you in an agonising pace.
the table under you creaked with every movement as the entire room filled with roaring slaps of skin.
you gasped loudly with each thrust as if you almost forgot how to breathe.
his dick was oh so thick, veiny and curved towards the end, rubbing your gummy insides with a practiced expertise.
“feel that? only you can get me hard like this” he said before grabbing your waist as an anchor to drill faster into you.
“o-oh my god, kook” you mumbled gibberish and clenched wildly against him.
“i am going to c-come” you held his face, with your fingers haphazardly tracing his features as he furrowed his eyebrows in pleasure.
“come for me princess”
“a-ah a-ah” you let out a whiny pornographic moan before releasing your juices all over his length.
you would’ve slipped off from the table due to the violent impact if jungkook wasn’t holding you so tightly.
however, that did not keep him from slamming into you in an animalistic speed.
he could feel his balls tightening up with a familiar feeling when your creamy cunt swallowed the entirety of his cock.
your warm walls leaked on his hard length and he wished he could have a taste of it.
“always coating my cock like a dirty lil girl and you were trying to avoid me? huh?”
jungkook glanced at your crimson face, with flushed tits and bruised lips, looking so prettily at him. his heart was beating rapidly against his chest as he considered himself to be the luckiest guy in the planet to be able to experience this and planned on reserving this sight for himself, forever.
“i love you so much” jungkook leaned down to capture your sweet lips in a kiss again,
“i love you too baby”
he heard you whimpering ferociously when a guttural moan left his lips.
he buried deep inside your welcoming wetness and finally halted to release his warm seeds inside.
slowly he pulled out his softening dick from your sore cunt after a little while, as you both hissed at the empty feeling.
when you finally calmed down from the intense high, he showered your face, forehead, neck, boobs and lips with kisses all over while you giggled shyly.
“never gonna let you go now” he whispered on your lips
“—you are mine forever” and hugged you close.
★ notes by buzzyjoonie : for all my emotionally constipated/overthinker girlies, this one is for you ‹𝟹 never stop yearning because the right person will always find you!
◦ summary ↠ a reckless one-night stand with a quiet, magnetic stranger was supposed to be just that—one night. no names, no strings. but on your first day at a new job, still nursing a hangover and pretending to be professional, you realize the man who had you unraveling hours ago is now your senior lead. (requested by anon)
◦ pairing ↠ yoongi x reader
◦ word count ↠ 10k
◦ genre ↠ smut
◦ content warning(s) ↠ office au, coworker!yoongi, suggestive/explicit content, borderline pwp, dirty talk, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, riding, unprotected sex, rough sex, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, breast play, oral sex, slight humilation kink
a/n: i was lowkey getting minor writer's block but i was finally able to get this one done! i hope you enjoy anon and anyone else who reads <3
masterlist
You were at a bar you’d never been to before, tucked between two older brick buildings downtown, the kind of place that glowed warmly against the night like it knew secrets. The music was low and smooth, bass humming just beneath your skin. You were already a little tipsy, just enough that the edges of your nerves felt soft instead of sharp. The alcohol sat pleasantly in your chest, warming you and loosening the tight knot of anxiety you’d carried in with you about tomorrow. Your first day at a new job. New people. New expectations. Unknowns.
You were seated at the bar with one leg crossed over the other, fingers loosely wrapped around the stem of your glass. You hadn’t planned on dressing like this, but the dress had felt right when you slipped it on. It was short, sleek, clinging to you in a way that made you feel bold. The fabric dipped low at the front, offering a generous view of your cleavage.
That was when you noticed him.
A few seats away at first, there was a man in dark slacks and a button-up rolled casually at the sleeves. He looked older than most of the crowd, more composed. When his eyes met yours, it wasn’t accidental. He didn’t rush to look away. Instead, his gaze drifted, unapologetic but controlled, lingering at your figure before lifting back to your eyes.
Your stomach flipped.
After a moment, he shifted closer, stopping just beside the empty stool next to you.
“Would you mind if I joined you for a drink?” he said, eyes flicking to the seat and then back to you. It sounded less like a question and more like an invitation. His voice was more captivating than you would’ve expected, with a warm and sinfully smooth tone to it.
You shook your head, suddenly very aware of how warm your cheeks felt. “Go ahead.”
He sat, his knee angling just slightly toward yours. Close enough that you noticed. Close enough that it felt intentional.
“First time here?” he asked, glancing at your drink.
“Yeah,” you admitted. “Needed something to calm my nerves.”
“Oh?” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Dangerous place to come for that.”
“Tomorrow’s my first day at a new job,” you said, taking another sip. The alcohol buzzed a little stronger now, making you braver. “I figured one drink wouldn’t hurt.”
“Usually doesn’t,” he said, his gaze lingering on you instead of the room. His eyes dipped to the open neckline of your dress. He leaned in just enough that you could smell his cologne, a luxurious scent, if you had to describe it. “You know, that dress,” he murmured, voice deepening, “...it’s very distracting.”
“Distracting, huh?” you teased softly. “That’s not exactly what I expected from someone like you.”
He tilted his head slightly. “I’m—” he paused, like he was deciding whether to give you the real thing or a half-truth, then smirked again, “—Yoongi, by the way.”
You smiled, fingers curling lightly around your glass. “Y/N,” you said, meeting his gaze without flinching.
He repeated it once, slower, like he wanted to feel how it sounded. “Y/N.” His forearm stayed where it was, warm and steady against yours. “Nice to finally put a name to the distraction.”
“Could say the same about you,” you replied, biting your lips without even noticing.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” he murmured after a moment, his voice softer now, closer. “But I’ll admit… I’d much rather get out of here with you than stay where everyone can see.”
You laughed quietly, but didn’t pull back. “You’re very confident for someone who just met me.”
His fingers slid closer, just barely grazing the side of your hand. “Can’t blame a guy for knowing what he wants.”
The music swelled, and for a second the world narrowed to the space between you. When he leaned in, he met your eyes, as if to ask for permission. You nodded lightly, breaths feeling heavier than they were seconds ago. Before you knew it, his lips pressed lightly against yours, a testing kiss. His hand rested at your waist, warm and possessive without being rough. The two of you thoroughly explored one another’s mouths, the kiss remaining slow and gentle.
He pulled back once the two of you ran breathless, taking a second to admire your appearance before leaning back in again.
The scent of alcohol was unmistakable—whiskey on his breath, wine on yours—mingling in a way that made your head feel pleasantly light. The kiss wasn’t careful this time. It was messier, slower to line up, your lips brushing clumsily before finding each other properly.
You kissed him like you’d had just enough to forget yourself. A little sloppy, a little eager. Your balance tilted toward him, and he steadied you without breaking the kiss, fingers tightening just slightly at your hip. He tasted like alcohol and something darker underneath, and you could tell you tasted the same to him by the way he exhaled softly through his nose, like he enjoyed it.
The kiss deepened, as the desperation of the two of you took over. His mouth moved against yours with confidence, letting you lead for a second, letting your intoxicated enthusiasm set the pace before he responded. His thumb traced a slow, absent-minded line along your jawline, grounding you while everything else felt pleasantly blurred.
When he finally pulled back, it was only enough to speak, his lips brushing yours as he did.
“I’m not really a PDA kind of guy,” he murmured, voice low, eyes dark as they flicked briefly to your mouth again. “But I’d really like to show you just how good you’re making me feel.”
His hands hovered at your waist as he leaned in close, forehead nearly touching yours.
“My place isn’t far,” he added quietly. “Easy walk.”
The way he said it was calm and controlled, like it was already decided, and it made your stomach flutter. The bar suddenly felt louder, brighter, and less important. All you could focus on was the warmth of his hand, the lingering taste of alcohol and him on your lips, and the fact that saying yes felt far too easy.
You barely remembered finishing your drink. One moment you were still tasting the lingering sweetness on your tongue, the next his hand was guiding you off the bar stool. The noise of the bar felt distant now, muffled by the warmth humming through your body and the way his attention never left you.
He paid quickly, fingers brushing yours as he did, and that small touch felt heavier than it should have. When you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your flushed skin, making you laugh softly as you swayed just a bit. He noticed immediately, his hand settling at your lower back, grounding you like it was instinct.
“Careful,” he murmured, amused, fond. “You’re a little unsteady.”
“So are you,” you teased back, glancing up at him. His eyes crinkled slightly at that, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
The walk to his place was quiet but the tension was loud. The city lights blurred pleasantly, footsteps syncing as you moved side by side. Every now and then your arm brushed his, or your fingers caught on his sleeve, and neither of you pulled away. The alcohol made everything softer, slower, like the night was stretching just for the two of you.
After a bit more walking, the two of you had finally arrived at his place.
The lobby was quiet, immaculate. Soft lighting, marble floors, the kind of space that smelled clean and expensive. You suddenly felt very aware of your skimpy dress, of how tipsy you still were, of how wildly out of place you probably looked standing beside him. And yet, his hand stayed warm and steady at your back, like you belonged there.
The elevator ride was silent but heavy. You caught your reflection in the mirrored wall, seeing your flushed cheeks, slightly mussed hair, and eyes that were a little unfocused from alcohol and anticipation. Then you glanced at him with his tailored coat and relaxed posture. You couldn’t really believe you were actually doing this, but you really needed some easing for your nerves.
The door barely clicked shut before he turned on you, his movements a blur of controlled aggression. He shoved you back against the wood, the impact vibrating through your spine, and pinned your arm high above your head. You thrived on the roughness of his grip; it was a physical manifestation of the restraint he was finally losing.
The kiss wasn't a request—it was a claim. It was fiercer, hungrier, and more invasive than before. When his mouth crashed against yours, it wasn't just a meeting of lips; it was a collision. He used his tongue to force your mouth open, slick and authoritative, demanding total entry.
He didn't just kiss you; he devoured you. You felt the wet slide of his tongue against yours, a rhythmic, deep-reaching intrusion that made your knees weaken. He caught your tongue with his own, pulling it into his mouth to suck on it with a low, primal groan that you felt in your chest more than you heard.
The air between you vanished. His hand at your waist bruised, pulling your hips flush against his, while the other remained braced like a vice beside your head. Every time he broke the seal of the kiss, it was only to lick a path across your bottom lip before diving back in, his tongue sweeping against the roof of your mouth in a way that felt dominant and utterly possessive. He was tasting you, marking you, his desperation vibrating through the heavy, wood-scented air of the room.
He broke the kiss with a wet, lingering sound, his forehead resting against yours for a heartbeat before he tilted his head back. He looked you up and down, a smug, low chuckle vibrating in his chest.
"Look at you," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, thick with the satisfaction of being the one who wrecked your composure. "Hardly catching your breath, and I’ve barely even started with you."
He gently took your hand and led you down the hallway. The alcohol made everything feel softer, dreamlike, your steps slightly unsteady as you followed him. When he opened the bedroom door, you paused again.
It was just as refined with its large bed, crisp linens, low lighting that cast everything in cozy shadows. The room felt intimate without even trying to be. Private.
He turned to face you then, finally, fully. His gaze drifted over you seductively, taking in your dress, the way it clung to you, the deep dip at your neckline. His eyes darkened just a little and it sent chills through your body.
“Finally,” he said quietly, stepping closer as his presence filled the space between you, “I have the pretty lady all to myself.”
His fingers trailed down your arm, the subtle touch getting your body worked up in ways you didn’t even know were possible. You felt feral, almost.
“Why don’t we…” he added, voice low and teasing, “get that pretty dress off you now?”
He walked toward you, his movements fluid yet powerful. His fingers found the strap of your dress, and with agonizing slowness, he slipped it down over your shoulder, then the other. The fabric whispered against your skin as it pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it, leaving you in nothing but your lingerie. He took a step back, his eyes sweeping over you in appreciation.
“Well now,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Aren’t you a surprise.”
You were wearing a matching set of deep burgundy lace. The bra was a balconette style, lifting your breasts and offering them up, the delicate floral pattern of the lace contrasting beautifully against your skin. Thin straps sat on your shoulders, and a small, pretty bow sat nestled between the cups. The panties were high-waisted, the same intricate lace covering the front, scalloped along the edges, with a small satin ribbon tied in a bow at one hip. They were more elegant than anything you’d usually wear, a secret layer of confidence you’d chosen just for yourself.
His gaze dropped to the lace between your legs, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. “Those panties,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “They’re almost as pretty as the girl wearing them.” He knew exactly what he was doing, and the sheer, arrogant certainty in his voice made you want to pull him back in just as much as it made you tremble.
He closed the distance again, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. His thumb rested gently on your cheek, tilting your face up until your eyes met his. “Look at me,” he commanded firmly. Then his lips were on yours. He pulled you flush against him with a force that made your head spin, and you melted into it, a soft moan escaping your throat as you reveled in his dominance.
As he kissed you, he stepped into your space, forcing your legs apart with the weight of his own. He drove his knee upward, wedging it high and hard between your thighs until the fabric of his suit trousers pressed directly against the burgundy lace of your panties.
A muffled cry broke against his lips as he began to rock his leg in a slow, agonizingly deliberate circle. The friction was electric as the rough wool of his slacks against the thin, delicate lace of your crotch created a heat and wetness that made your head spin. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you steady as he forced you to grind against him.
He was using his knee to stoke the fire he’d started, his movements authoritative and unyielding. You arched into him, your hands clutching his shoulders as the friction sent waves of unbearable tension through your lower body. Every time you tried to speed up the pace, he’d growl into the kiss, his knee providing a heavy, constant pressure that made you feel utterly conquered.
His hands finally slid past the swell of your hips, his palms hot against your skin, before trailing lower to catch the curve of your ass. He squeezed the firm flesh with a bruising strength, molding you against his frame, before he suddenly pulled back just enough to deliver a sharp spank.
The sound of the impact cracked through the quiet of the room, and the sting sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core. You gasped into his mouth, your body bucking instinctively against him, your fingers gripping tightly onto the muscles of his back.
He didn't pull away. Instead, he chuckled against your lips with a low, dark vibration that felt like a purr of pure satisfaction. He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he felt you tremble. "I thought you might like that," he whispered, his voice thick with the thrill of your reaction. "Do you want another, or are you going to behave?"
It was at this point that he’d finally decided to break the seal of your mouths. His chest was heaving, his gaze dropping to where his leg was buried between yours.
“The bed,” he rasped, the command leaving no room for argument.
He began to walk you backward, guiding your stumbling steps toward the large bed. The backs of your knees hit the edge, and he gently lowered you down onto the crisp sheets, his body hovering over yours, caging you in. He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his chest heaving slightly. Then, with a sense of urgency, he rid himself of his clothes. His blazer and shirt were discarded in a heap on the floor, followed by his slacks, leaving him in just a pair of black boxer briefs that did little to hide the hard ridge of his arousal.
While he was undressing, you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it fall away. Your breasts spilled free, your nipples pebbling in the cool air. You moved to take off your panties, but he stopped you, his fingers hooking into the delicate lace at your hips.
“Allow me,” he murmured, his eyes glued to your core as he slowly, torturously, pulled them down your legs and tossed them aside. His gaze was intense and hungry and you’d just wanted him to devour every bit of you already.
The thick outline of his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers was surely no help either. A surge of boldness suddenly washed over you as you sat up to allow your hand to reach out and palm him through the cotton. He groaned, his hips twitching into your touch.
“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. You knelt before him, pulling his boxers down. His cock was finally fully visible to you, wet and hard.
You wrapped your hand around his shaft, feeling his velvety skin over the steel-hard length. You leaned in, sticking out your tongue to swirl it around the flushed head. A deep groan rumbled in his chest. You began to stroke him, your hand moving in long, slow pulls from base to tip while your tongue continued to explore, lapping at the sensitive slit. You loved the sounds he made, the way his breath hitched with every flick of your tongue.
You got sloppy with it, letting your saliva coat his length until it was dripping, the wet sounds filling the room. He seemed to love it, his fingers tangling in your hair. You shifted, taking more of him into your mouth, sucking him deep as your hands moved down to gently massage his balls.
“Fuck,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “You’re so good at that.”
After a moment, he tightened his grip on your hair.
“Look at me,” he panted.
When your eyes met his, they were dark with lust.
“You want to gag on my cock?” You weren’t expecting the raw, filthy question, but it didn’t make you want it any less. “I want to see my cock stuffed in that pretty face of yours. Could you do that for me?”
“Yes,” you breathed, the word a desperate, enthusiastic plea. “God, yes.”
He helped you reposition, settling you more comfortably on your knees. He placed a hand on the back of your head, his other hand gripping his shaft to guide it to your lips.
“Open up,” he commanded.
You did, and he began to thrust into your mouth. He started slow, letting you get used to the rhythm, but it wasn’t long before he was chasing his own pleasure. You could feel his cock exploring the walls of your throat with each thrust, going deeper and deeper. Your gag reflex prickled, and you choked slightly, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. He pulled back immediately, giving you a moment to breathe whenever necessary.
“Again?” he asked, his voice rough.
You nodded, eager, and he slid back in, picking up the pace once more. You could taste the salty precum on your tongue with every thrust.
After what felt like an eternity of the delicious, rough face-fucking, he pulled you up, his mouth crashing against yours in a messy, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him as he pushed you back onto the bed, his body covering yours. He kissed his way down your body, over your breasts, your stomach, until he was settled between your thighs. He didn’t touch you right away, teasing you with kisses on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Then, without warning, he gave your clit a long, hard, pressured lick.
You yelped, your back arching off the bed at the sudden, intense feeling of pleasure. He did it again, and again, and you couldn’t stop the high-pitched whines and moans that spilled from your lips. The feeling was overwhelming, a dizzying spiral of sensation. He switched to sucking, drawing your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it. It was another level of pleasure entirely. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you tried to guide his movements, desperate for more.
“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned against you.
While he was lost in you, you felt his cock twitch against your leg, and a sudden, desperate need to ride him took over. You pushed at his shoulders, and he got the message, rolling onto his back. You straddled him, a satisfied, predatory grin spreading across his face. His hands immediately found your hips, gripping you tight.
You sank down onto his cock, the stretch a perfect, burning pleasure. He helped you find a rhythm, lifting you and slamming you back down onto his length. The feeling of his strong hands gripping your sides and ass, controlling your movements, was intoxicating. You took over, setting a punishing pace, rolling your hips and grinding down on him. He met you thrust for thrust, his hips bucking up to meet yours, driving himself deeper and deeper inside you. The room filled with the sounds of your moans, his groans, and the slap of skin against skin.
It was a desperate race toward the edge, and when you finally fell forward, your orgasm crashed through you with the force of a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. He followed you moments later with a loud, guttural groan, his own release pulsing deep inside you.
You collapsed onto his chest, both of you panting and slick with sweat. You two laid there for a while after, the frantic energy slowly ebbing away into a warm, sated glow. The alcohol haze was fading, replaced by a pleasant exhaustion. You shifted, glancing at the clock on the nightstand, and your eyes widened.
“Shit,” you muttered, scrambling to sit up. “I have to go. It’s way later than I thought.” You’d finally pushed yourself up off the bed, slowly gathering your clothes that were all in different locations of the room.
“Stay,” he rasped, the command softened by the gravel in his voice. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of your spine. “The bed is finally warm.”
“I wish I could,” you admitted, gripping your burgundy lace panties from the floor.
He watched you dress with hooded eyes, a look that made you feel like you were still under his thumb even as you hooked your bra. He moved with a slow grace to gather his own clothes, the comfortable silence between you charged with the memory of what had just happened.
“Don’t think I’m letting you disappear,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He didn’t ask but simply held it out, waiting for you to bridge the gap.
You recited your number, and a second later, your phone vibrated on the nightstand.
He walked you to the door, but he didn't just let you walk out. He caught your waist, pulling your back against his chest as he tapped at his screen. “I’m calling you a car. I’m not having you wandering around this late.”
When the headlights cut through the darkness outside, he turned you in his arms.
“I’ll be in touch,” he murmured, his voice low and certain. “And next time, you aren't leaving the bed until I say so.”
He stepped back just enough to let you breathe, but his gaze remained locked on yours until the car door clicked shut. As the cab pulled away, you watched his silhouette in the rearview mirror, standing under the glow of the streetlamp with his hands in his pockets.
The city blurred past the window, a smear of neon and shadow that felt light-years away from the room you had just left. Your skin felt hypersensitive, the friction of your clothes a constant reminder of the way he’d handled you. Every time the car hit a bump, you felt the faint, throbbing ache between your thighs. You touched your bottom lip and it was swollen, sensitive to the slightest graze of your finger.
The short drive ended quietly, the soft click of your apartment door sealing the night behind you. The lingering scent of his cologne and the ghost of his touch clung to you like a second skin.
A soft, shaky sigh escaped your lips. Your head was still a tad bit fuzzy from the drinks, a gentle haze that softened the edges of reality and made the memory of his hands on your hips and his tongue in your mouth feel more like a fever dream than a Tuesday night.
Your phone buzzed, the vibration rattling through your hand and cutting through the quiet of the entryway. You didn't even have to look to know it was him. A single, weighted sentence stared back at you:
“I can still taste you.”
A slow, involuntary smile spread across your face. You toed off your heels, the relief immediate, and padded toward your bedroom, your fingers already flying across the keyboard. “Really? And what exactly do I taste like?” you typed back, the honesty of it sending a fresh thrill through you.
His reply was instantaneous. “Actually, I’m starting to forget. I think I need you to come back here so I can make sure.” You paused, your thumb hovering over the screen as a slow, secret smile spread across your face.
You dropped your phone on the bed and began to undress, the sleek fabric of your clothes feeling like a costume you were finally done with. The bathroom filled with steam as you turned on the shower, the warmth acting as a welcome embrace against your sensitive skin.
“Gonna shower then head to bed,” you texted, setting the phone on the counter. You paused, biting your lip before adding, “Need to be a professional, functioning human for at least eight hours.”
The reply came through while you were unhooking your bra, the chime sharp against the bathroom tile.
“Is that right?” he shot back. “You’re going to sit in a boardroom and pretend you didn’t just get railed the night before?”
He was playing with you, marking his territory from miles away.
You stepped under the hot spray, the water cascading over your body, washing away the lingering stickiness of the club and the heat of the car. On a sudden, wicked impulse, you grabbed your phone with a damp hand. The screen fogged slightly as you snapped a picture—just your chest, covered in a thick layer of white soap. You hit send before you could second-guess yourself.
His response didn’t take long. “Fuck.”
The single word was heavy, loaded with unspoken desire. You finished your shower quickly, the air outside feeling cool against your heated skin. You toweled off and slipped into something soft and comfortable, an oversized t-shirt that barely covered your thighs, and slid between the cool sheets of your bed.
You kept your phone in your hand, your fingers brushing idly over the screen as his texts lingered in your mind, the phantom weight of his body still pressed against yours. The alcohol haze was settling, but your mind was wide awake, replaying every moment.
Finally, you typed a simple: “Goodnight.”
His reply came a moment later, a simple, “Same goes to you, sexy thing.”
You set the phone down on the nightstand, a slow smile on your lips as you closed your eyes, his last message a sweet, thrilling lullaby.
Morning came too fast. Your head ached, the dull throb of the hangover making your temples tight. You groaned, tugging your hair back, and realized you were already running late. First day at a new job, and your body reminded you that last night’s indulgence had consequences.
You moved quickly, throwing on a professional outfit that felt both sharp and safe. It was fitted enough to look put together, but simple. Your makeup was light, applied in a rush, and you styled your hair just enough to look presentable. You caught your reflection and nearly laughed, patting your hair again and adding a touch more makeup to disguise how tired you really were.
With your water bottle in hand and your bag over your shoulder, you stepped into the day. Your pulse was still high from the night before, and a quiet thrill lingered under the dull headache. First day. New job.
The elevator dinged, and you stepped out into the office lobby, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. The building smelled faintly of coffee and polished wood. The environment was professional, but definitely a little intimidating. You tugged your blazer a little straighter, trying to ignore the throb behind your eyes. You thought the feeling would’ve been long gone by now but the alcohol from last night still made a distant appearance in the back of your head.
“You must be Y/N. Welcome.” A receptionist smiled at you, clipboard in hand. “We’re just about ready to get you settled.”
You nodded, forcing yourself to look composed. Your legs felt unsteady in your heels as you followed her down the corridor, ears picking up the faint hum of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and quiet murmurs of colleagues already at work. Each sound felt sharper, somehow louder, through the fog in your head.
“This way,” she said, leading you to a small office area. “You’ll start with a bit of orientation, then we’ll get you familiar with the system. Oh, and here’s your workstation.” She gestured to a sleek desk with a polished surface, a computer already booted up, and a chair that adjusted too smoothly. “You can get settled here, there’s some training modules we’ll just have you do for today. I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything.”
You nodded, trying to appear the part of the capable new hire.
With a final, encouraging smile, she turned and headed back toward the lobby. You took a seat, the chair adjusting with a smooth, expensive hiss that made you feel small in the minimalist space. The office was clean and modern and there was a subtle sophistication to everything, but you couldn’t tell if it was the neutral color palette or the quiet efficiency of the layout. You smoothed the front of your blouse over your chest and took a deep breath.
Your hands hovered over the keyboard, shoulders tense, fingers useless as your thoughts drifted back to the blurry events of last night, despite your best efforts. It had been a while since you’d let yourself fall into something so reckless, so fleeting—a one-night stand type meeting with no expectations and no promises. You hated how much it took over your thoughts, but you couldn’t help it. It left you wanting more, even now, but you exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away.
You straightened, finally pressing your fingers to the keys and pulling yourself back to work. You weren’t going to let a single night of poor decisions ruin your first day.
For the next hour, you actually managed to sink into the flow. You navigated through the software orientation with a sharp, practiced focus, clicking through the security protocols and taking diligent notes in a leather-bound notebook. The rhythmic clack-clack of the keyboard became a mantra, grounding you. You answered a few introductory emails from the HR team and organized your digital workspace, your movements efficient and professional. Aside from the occasional, faint stir of silk against your skin, you had successfully pushed last night into a neat little box at the back of your mind. You were a professional, and you were proving it.
It wasn’t long before a movement in your peripheral caught your attention. A man was walking down the aisle of desks, a familiar stride that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t expect. And then your brain finally caught up. Yoongi.
Your heart did a little double take. The same dark hair, the same smirk, and the same casual confidence. He was right here. In the office. Your new job. What was he doing here?
You froze, cheeks heating, and quickly looked down at your keyboard like the screen could shield you from recognition. He noticed you immediately, eyebrows quirking as his gaze slid over you. A small, near-silent chuckle escaped his lips before he continued to the desk beside you, acting perfectly nonchalant.
Your phone buzzed, and you didn’t need to even look to know who it was.
“Nice seeing you here. If I didn’t know what a dirty girl you really are, I’d totally believe that innocent, businesslike act of yours.”
You bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, the sting helping to ground you as a furious blush stained your cheeks. Dirty? You glanced over discreetly; he was already at his desk, his fingers moving with a lazy, practiced rhythm over his keyboard, but the glint in his dark eyes was unmistakable. He was enjoying the chaos he’d just dropped into your lap.
You tried to refocus on the modules, but the words on the screen were just a blur of black and white. You reached for your coffee, the warm ceramic of the mug acting as an anchor for your trembling hands. Every shadow that moved in the corner of your eye made you jump, your heart hammering against your ribs.
And then, you felt him.
He was walking past your workstation again, his pace agonizingly slow, as if he were savoring the way your posture went rigid the moment he drew near. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Your hand jerked instinctively, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the mug.
“Careful now,” he warned, his voice a low, playful rumble just behind your ear. You jumped, a small gasp escaping your lips before you could choke it back. He leaned down just a fraction closer as he passed, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Don’t want you spilling coffee on yourself… can’t have you soaking wet on your first day can we?”
He let the words linger in the air as a deliberate, wet promise, before he straightened. You managed a shaky, breathless laugh, trying to hide your flustered heartbeat behind the mug. “I... I’m fine,” you muttered, your knuckles white as you gripped the coffee.
In your haste to look busy, your hand brushed against a silver pen resting on the edge of the polished desk. It rolled, clicking softly against the wood before dropping off the side. Without thinking, you ducked down to retrieve it, leaning forward and reaching toward the floor.
The movement caused the deep neckline of your blouse to fall away from your skin.
From his vantage point, standing right over you, the view was unobstructed. You realized it the second you looked up, pen in hand, that he wasn’t looking at your face. He was staring straight down into the dip of your shirt, his eyes dark and fixed on the soft swell of your breasts.
The air in the cubicle felt like it had been set on fire. You straightened up quickly, clutching the pen, but the damage was done. He smirked, a slow, predatory curve of his lips that told you he’d memorized every inch of what he just saw.
He leaned in one last time, his voice dropping to a whisper that was for your ears only. “And is that view just for me?”
He didn't wait for an answer. He straightened his tie and kept walking, leaving you breathless and gripping your pen so hard the metal bit into your palm.
Your eyes darted back to the screen, trying to finish the modules to the best of your ability, despite the difficulty of such a simple task. Every clack of your keyboard felt loud and every reminder of his presence seemed amplified. Your mind was a riot of the absurd realization that Yoongi, your mysterious flirt from last night, was right here, mere feet from you, acting as if nothing was happening at all.
Your mind betrayed you, flashing to the naughty images from last night. With him on top of you, that smirk as he hovered close, and the way his hands moved over you, how could you get any of this work done?
You eventually snapped yourself back to reality, taking a slow, steadying breath before letting your fingers glide over the keyboard with a little more confidence.
It seemed Yoongi was finally giving you some space, leaving you alone to work without any more teasing interruptions, for now. The faint buzz of the office and the hum of computers became your rhythm, and slowly, you started to fall back into the task at hand, though a tiny part of your mind remained painfully aware of his presence nearby, just in case he decided to strike again.
It wasn’t long before you glanced at the clock and realized it was just about time for lunch. Grabbing your bag, you made your way toward the break room. The small kitchen area smelled faintly of reheated meals and coffee, the vibrations of the refrigerator acting as a background to your thoughts.
You popped open the lid of the instant ramen you’d brought along with you and heated it up before taking it over to one of the tables. You settled in, letting the steam from the noodles warm your hands, hoping the routine act of eating would help ground you after the morning’s… distractions.
You were just about to take your first bite when you sensed a presence beside you.
“Mind if I sit here?”
Your heart lurched. You glanced up. Of course. It was him. Yoongi. Leaning casually, that effortless confidence in his posture, eyes dark and knowing. Your cheeks heated immediately and you nodded before you could stop yourself.
No one else was in the break room yet, and suddenly the air felt thick between you. He sat, close enough that you felt your breaths get shorter and heavier. How could he get you like this?
“You’re such a tease,” you murmured, the words coming out as a soft, breathless confession.
“Only because I like seeing you struggle.” he countered. He leaned in just a fraction closer, his shoulder brushing against yours “You’re so cute when you’re a horny mess.”
Your eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath betraying you. You looked around frantically, praying no one was rounding the corner to hear him dismantle your composure so easily.
Trying to regain some scrap of dignity, you jabbed your fork into the noodles. “So… you didn’t get lunch yet?” you asked, your voice higher than usual.
He leaned back slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. He nodded toward the small bag of snacks he’d tossed on the table, but the look in his eyes said something entirely different.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his smirk widening. “My lunch is sitting right next to me.”
The blatant innuendo was frustratingly effective at getting you worked up. You tried to feign annoyance, tapping your chopsticks against the rim of the bowl. “Persistent, aren’t you?”
“Hungry,” he corrected, the word vibrating with a double meaning that made your hand shake.
He shrugged with a mock innocence that didn't reach his eyes. You couldn’t deny it—you thrived on this. Every whisper and every lingering glance made the desire coil tighter in your stomach. You’d been aching for him since you woke up, and his relentless teasing was only feeding the desperation.
You hadn’t realized just how dangerously close you’d leaned into his space until the heavy thud of footsteps broke the spell. Your stomach dropped as a coworker, Kai, strolled into the breakroom. His eyes landed on Yoongi immediately, then flickered to you with a friendly, unsuspecting curiosity.
“Hey, Yoongi,” Kai called out, leaning casually against the counter. “Did you tell her about the barbecue tonight?”
The invisible heat between you and Yoongi was so thick you were sure Kai could see it. In a sudden, panicked rush, you scooted your chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the linoleum. You buried your face in your ramen, pretending to be deeply fascinated by a stray noodle. Totally not suspicious, you thought, your heart hammering against your ribs.
Kai didn’t seem to notice. He grinned at you, eyes bright with the typical excitement of an office social. “It’s a tradition! Everyone shows up, the food is great. You should definitely come, it’s the best way to meet the team.”
He gave a quick thumbs-up and headed back out, his footsteps fading down the hall.
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with the residual electricity of Kai almost catching you. Yoongi didn’t move back. Instead, he watched you with that familiar, ruinous smirk.
“He’s right. You should be there,” Yoongi said, his voice dropping back into that low, gravelly register that made the rest of the room disappear. “I’m planning on staying late. And I have a very specific set of ideas for how we’re going to spend your ‘after-hours’ orientation. I'd hate for you to miss it.”
You noticed the subtle inflection in his tone, the way his words carried a hint of promise beyond just a night out. You glanced at him, trying to mask the flutter in your stomach, and he caught it immediately, obvious from his facial expression.
“Okay,” you whispered, the word feeling small against the weight of his attention. “I’ll be there.”
He chuckled, a short, dark sound of victory. “Good girl. I’ll see you tonight. Try to keep your head in the files until then.”
The day dragged on, the hours stretching longer than you expected, though at least the work itself wasn’t unbearable. You found yourself stealing glances at Yoongi now and then, resisting the urge to check your phone for another message or a sly comment. He was at his desk, pretending to type, but you caught the cheeky grin that never seemed to fully leave his lips when he thought no one was looking.
When the clock finally released you, the office cleared out in a blur of small talk. You gathered your things, your hands finally steady enough to pack your bag. As you passed his desk, he didn't even look up from his screen, but his voice reached you.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he said quietly, only enough for you to hear.
You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. “See you then.”
The bus ride home was a blur of anticipation. The thought of being around him again and this time outside of the office, made your pulse thrum a little faster. This was especially enticing when considering the events that occurred between the two of you the night before.
At home, you started rifling through your closet, searching for something that was nice but not too over the top. You settled on a fitted silk blouse in a deep, midnight blue and a skirt that skimmed your thighs just right. You spent a little too much time on your hair, letting the curls fall loosely over your shoulders, and finished with a swipe of gloss that made your lips look bitten and plush. You looked in the mirror, took a steadying breath, and told your racing heart to behave.
The restaurant was a chaotic mix of savory smoke, cold beer, and the loud, boisterous laughter of people finally off the clock. You stepped through the door, scanning the crowded tables until your eyes locked onto his.
The place was lively as you arrived, laughter and conversation spilling out from the restaurant where the barbecue was in full swing. The smell of grilled and marinated meat hit you instantly, mingling with the faint tang of alcohol. Your heart beat a little faster when you spotted Yoongi seated at the table, casually leaning back as he surveyed the crowd. Around him, coworkers laughed and clinked glasses, but his focus found you immediately.
“Glad you came,” he said as you approached, his voice cutting through the surrounding chatter. He didn't stand, but he reached out, his fingers briefly ghosting over the side of your waist as he gestured toward the empty chair beside him.
You made your way over, trying to appear casual.
You sat, and almost immediately, the "professional" distance you’d tried to maintain collapsed. His arm brushed yours as he reached for a plate. You went rigid, your breath catching in your throat, and you knew by the way his jaw tightened that he felt the exact moment you faltered.
He didn't stop there. Under the shelter of the heavy tablecloth, his hand slid onto your thigh. His palm was warm, his grip firm. He didn't move at first; he just let the weight of his hand settle there, marking you while he casually joined a conversation about quarterly projections.
“Yoongi…” you murmured, the name escaping you as a faint, desperate breath.
“Mm?” He didn't even look at you. He leaned in just enough for his shoulder to pin yours, his voice a low, vibration intended for your ears alone. “Something wrong?”
His fingers began a slow, torturous climb. He traced the seam of your skirt, his thumb dipping just beneath the hem to graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The sensation was a lightning strike of heat that settled directly between your legs.
You were losing it. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, and the polite chatter of your coworkers sounded like it was coming from miles away. You couldn't sit there and pretend to be a "new hire" for one more second while he was dismantling you under the table.
“Excuse me,” you managed, standing abruptly. The chair legs shrieked against the floor, drawing a few curious glances from the table. You didn't wait to explain so you just turned and moved toward the restrooms, your legs weak.
The cool air of the restroom did nothing to dampen the fire he’d started. You leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection as your eyes were blown wide, your cheeks a frantic, deep pink.
Your phone buzzed in your hand. It was him:
“On a scale of 1–5, how ruined are those panties right now? I’m gonna bet on 5 ;)"
You let out a frustrated breath, leaning your forehead toward the mirror. You felt the undeniable, heavy dampness between your thighs signaling he was absolutely right.
You splashed cold water on your face, took three deep breaths to steady your pulse, and walked back out. You found him exactly where you left him, leaning back with a glass in his hand. He didn't say a word as you sat down, but his slow, teasing smirk said it all.
The rest of the barbecue felt like a blur of polite nods and shallow conversation. As predicted, once the managers began to settle their tabs and head for the exits, the atmosphere shifted. The "performance" was over.
Once everyone was ready to get going, you followed the group down the dimly lit street. Yoongi trailed just behind you, his presence a physical weight at your back. He wasn’t touching you yet, but he was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, marking his territory in the middle of the sidewalk.
“You sure you can keep up?” he murmured, cutting through the city noise. “It’s a long night. I’d hate for you to get overwhelmed before we even get started.”
You glanced over your shoulder. “I’ll manage,” you replied, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
His smirk deepened, sharp and knowing under the amber glow of the streetlights. “Good. Because I don't plan on letting you out of my sight tonight.” You bit your lip, trying to suppress the rush that bloomed wherever he touched.
The club was a sensory assault. The moment the heavy doors opened, the bass rolled through your chest like a heartbeat, and the air turned thick with the scent of expensive alcohols and crowded skin.
Yoongi didn't hesitate. He stepped up behind you, his hand finding the small of your back. And it wasn't a gentle guide. It was a firm, possessive grip that pulled you flush against him as he wove through the chaos of a crowd. Every time a stranger got too close, his hand tightened, his fingers splaying across your spine as if to remind the room exactly who you belonged to.
He navigated you toward a darker corner, the neon lights flashing in rhythmic bursts that made his eyes glisten amidst the lights. He leaned in, his chest pressing into your back, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear.
“You’re struggling,” he murmured. He leaned in until his lips were hovering against your cheek. “I think you’ve had enough of playing nice for the cameras. We could walk out that door right now and no one would even notice. Is that what you want?”
Your pulse spiked as you nodded. “Yes… please,” you breathed, the word barely above a whisper. “I want to get out of here.”
He didn't just smile—he smirked with the triumph of a man who knew he’d won. His hand slid up your thigh, his fingers hooking into the hem of your skirt and pulling the fabric just an inch higher. He didn't move his hand any further and simply allowed it to rest there. His thumb traced the sensitive skin of your inner leg while you stood in the middle of the crowd, trapped between his body and the music.
As a group of people surged past, he used the momentum to press you against him. You could feel the hard line of his frame and the rhythm of the club’s bass vibrating through both of your chests at once.
“Come on. I’m tired of sharing the view.”
The transition was jarring. One moment you were in a world of neon and sweat, and the next, you were stepping into the sharp, biting chill of the night air. The heavy bass faded into a muffled hum behind you as he took your hand. He pulled you along, his strides long and purposeful as he navigated toward the darker side streets where the streetlights were sparse.
By the time you reached his car, the city felt like it had disappeared. He unlocked it and held the door open, his eyes dark and unreadable in the shadows.
“Get in,” he ordered, his gaze sweeping over you one last time before you slid into the shadows of the back seat.
The door clicked shut as he followed you inside, sealing out the rest of the world. The car was silent, smelling of his cologne and expensive leather. With him occupying the seat beside you, the space felt impossibly small.
He looked at you—not with the "work Yoongi" smirk, but with the raw, hungry gaze of the man who had pinned you to the door the night before.
You moved without hesitation, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him. The fabric of your skirt bunched up around your thighs, exposing more skin to the cool leather of the seats. His hands were instantly on you, one gripping your hip, the other sliding up your back to press you closer.
“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips before capturing them in a hungry, desperate kiss.
The kiss was a collision that was hungry, desperate, and entirely devoid of the "professional" restraint he’d worn all day. His tongue was a hot, confident intrusion that made your head spin, and you met him with equal fervor, your fingers tangling into the dark hair at the nape of his neck.
His hands moved with a brutal purpose, mapping the curves he’d been eyeing from across the office. One hand slid down to find the swell of your ass, gripping it tightly as he held you closely against him. The distance was so close that you could feel the heavy, pulsing hardness of him through his dress slacks, a silent demand that made your stomach flip.
“Need to see you,” he let out a jagged growl.
He didn't fumble. His fingers worked the buttons of your blouse with a surprising speed until the silk fell open. He moved to the clasp of your bra, the metal giving out with a sharp click that echoed in the quiet cabin of the car. As the lace fell away, your breasts were finally exposed. He cupped them with his hands, fondling them in soft circles.
He groaned before burying his face between them. His chin scraped deliciously against your sensitive skin as he pressed kisses to the valley between your breasts. His hands came up to hold them, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you were arching into his touch with a soft moan.
“Yoongi,” you gasped, your head hitting the window as his mouth closed around one peak. Your hips rolled instinctively, seeking friction against the hard ridge of his cock still trapped in his pants.
“Like that?” he murmured against your damp skin, before switching his focus to the other breast. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven't you? Sitting at that desk, wondering exactly how my mouth would feel on you.”
His words sparked a reckless fire in you. Reaching down, you tried to slide your hand beneath the hem of your skirt to find your slick folds, but he intercepted your wrist with a firm, sudden grip.
“Patience,” he chuckled, though his voice was laced with restraint.
But savoring seemed to be the last thing on his mind as his hands slid down to your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He tugged them down as far as he could in this position, his knuckles brushing against your wet folds. You gasped at the contact, your body already humming with anticipation.
But his "savoring" was far from gentle. Two fingers dipped under your skirt and into the waistband of your lace panties before dragging them down in one swift motion. His fingers pressed against your wetness and you couldn’t seem to contain yourself.
“Look at you,” he murmured, sliding a finger through your slickness with a slow, agonizing confidence. “Already so wet for me. You were telling the truth after all, weren’t you?”
You could only nod, words failing you as his thumb found your clit, rubbing circles that made your vision blur with pleasure. Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you rode his hand, chasing the building pressure.
“Please,” you finally managed to gasp out. “I need you inside me now.”
With a dark groan of agreement, he fumbled with his belt, the metallic click sounding deafening in the quiet car. He freed himself—thick, hot, and already glistening—and you didn't wait. You shifted, straddling him in the cramped darkness, your knees pressing into the leather on either side of his hips.
You sank down slowly, the stretch so intense it made your head roll back. You took him inch by inch, your body tight and welcoming, until you were fully seated. The air in the car was thick, the windows already beginning to fog over, sealing you both into a private, humid world.
His eyes were dark with lust as he watched you, lips parted as soft pants escaped him. “God, look at you,” he murmured, reaching up to cup your breasts. “Riding me like you were made for it.”
The praise was like fuel. You increased the pace, your movements turning frantic as you bounced against him, the cabin of the car filling with the raw, rhythmic sounds of the encounter—the slick slap of skin, the heavy creak of the leather, and the tangled sounds of your breathing.
His hands guided your movements, sometimes urging you faster, other times pulling you down harder onto him. When he leaned forward to capture a nipple in his mouth again, you cried out, the dual sensations pushing you closer to the edge.
“Yoongi, I—”
“I know,” he cut in, voice strained. “Let go for me. Want to feel you come around my cock.”
His words combined with a particularly well-angled thrust sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you, waves of pleasure making your body convulse as you cried out his name. He kept thrusting up into you, forcing you to feel every vibration of your climax until you finally collapsed against his chest, panting and boneless.
“Perfect,” he murmured, kissing your temple as you caught your breath. “Absolutely perfect.”
But he wasn’t done with you yet. With surprising strength, he adjusted your position, lifting you slightly before flipping you so your back was pressed against the door and he was hovering over you. The new angle allowed him to thrust deeper, and you gasped as he drove back into you, this time with a passion that told you he was close.
“Where do you want it?” he demanded, his voice ragged. “Tell me where it goes.”
“Inside,” you breathed, your legs locking around his waist to pull him closer. “Please, Yoongi. Inside.”
With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep one last time, his body going rigid as he filled you. You felt the pulses of his release deep inside, reaching even your sensitized nerves. You clung to him, your fingers resting against his shoulders until he eventually sunk his weight onto you.
For several minutes, neither of you moved. The world outside the fogged windows had ceased to exist. The scent of him was everywhere and it dark, masculine, and intoxicating.
Finally, the tension in his muscles eased. He shifted, pulling back just enough to look at you before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
“That was a good start,” he mumbled. He reached out, his fingers beginning to idly toy with a stray lock of your hair. “But I don't think eight hours of wanting you is out of my system yet.”
You were about to answer and tell him exactly how much you wanted that second round, when a sudden burst of laughter cut through the quiet of the street.
Your heart stopped.
Through the fogged side window, a group of people was spilling out of the club’s side exit, their voices loud and fueled by adrenaline. You froze as you recognized a familiar tone—Kai. “I’m telling you, she probably just went home,” Kai’s voice drifted through the glass, closer than you ever wanted it to be. “New hires always flake out early. But Yoongi? That man is a ghost. He probably disappeared to close some deal or find a quieter bar.”
You felt the blood drain from your face. You were half-dressed, tangled in the back seat with the man they were looking for, hidden only by a thin layer of condensation on the glass. One curious glance, one hand wiping away the steam, and your career would be over before it started.
Yoongi didn't panic. He didn't even flinch. He simply went still, his eyes locking onto yours with a terrifyingly calm intensity. He placed a single finger over his lips as a silent command for you to stay absolutely quiet.
The footsteps lingered. A shadow fell across the fogged window as someone leaned momentarily against the car's frame to light a cigarette. The car rocked slightly under the weight. You held your breath until your lungs burned, your eyes wide as you stared at Yoongi’s silhouette in the dark.
Finally, the voices began to fade. “Come on, the after-party is two blocks away. Let’s go.”
Yoongi stayed close for a moment longer, his eyes tracing the wreckage he’d made of your blouse before he finally pulled back and shifted into the driver's seat.
“Suddenly, the thought of my shower after a long night sounds awfully appealing,” he said, his voice a low velvet. “Care to join?”
masterlist
a/n: wahoo! i was thinking of making a general tag list for all my writing so if you would like to be added then leave a comment below!
BTS Scenario - They Are More Physically Affectionate Towards Their Girl Best Friend Than You
Pairing: Boyfriend OT7 X Girlfriend Reader (individual storyline)
Theme: OT7 Scenario, angst.
Word count: 6.2k+
Summary:
In which they are more physically affectionate towards their girl best friend than you.
Warning: Angst, mentions of sex.
Minors Do Not Interact!
Masterlist | Patreon
A/N: A few things to know - 1. The relationships are new, 2. The reader leaves after getting hurt. 3. in some cases she does confront the boys before leaving, but in most cases she leaves quietly.
P.S: Ginger is a cat.
Sequel: They See Another Guy Being Touchy With You.
Kim Namjoon
If you were a poet, you would write sonnets about Kim Namjoon’s beauty.
The sharp cuts of his eyes, the arch of his lips, and that unfathomable depth of his dimple has set your heart on fire almost a year ago, and you are burning still.
Your hand does that weird little thing where you seek for his touch, even if just a brush of his fingertips, as you blindly pat down on his knees underneath the table.
The cacophony of the table is too much for your brain to process, too new to comprehend, too alien to relate and hence, you are looking for an anchor that can ground you, bind you to the jetty and let you from floating too far away.
You don’t find his hand, what you find is his knee instead, so you pat down on it. Namjoon was previously talking to his best friend, who is sitting on the other side. Now, upon receiving your sos signal, turns towards you and looks at you with confusion playing in his eyes.
He quirks and eyebrow as if asking ‘what’s wrong’, you only smile. There’s nothing wrong after all, you are just craving his touch.
Your hand reaches for his again, this time above the table and places itself on top of his. His eyes get bigger scandalously. As if you should have not done this, not before all these people you hardly even know. This is your turn to be confused. Why is he behaving like he is married and you are his mistress?
“What?” you mouth at him.
“All these people…” he gestures with his eyes. A smile cracks on your face at how shy he is getting. You can understand the source of his coyness. This is the first time he is introducing you to his friends and it is natural for both of you and him to be a bit awkward.
“But they know I am your girlfriend.” you shrug, reaching for his hand again, but just then he removes his limb from the place.
“Not now, okay? Later.” he gives you a tight-lipped smile. Something in you twists painfully, you push yourself out of the feeling before it can reflect on your face.
Nodding mostly to yourself you train your focus on the table again. Most of the people are talking among themselves. Namjoon, too, is having an all-consuming conversation with his best friend Sonyeon.
“But I really need to lose some fat. Look at my double chin, it looks like a frog’s vocal sac.” you hear her voice crystal clear. Leaning a bit on your chair, you find her giving your boyfriend puppy eyes.
Namjoon giggles, which is not very common, at least not with you. And then you see something that propels you to do a double take.
Namjoon brings both of his hands to cup her cheeks lovingly, “but you are so cute.” he says in a baby voice, shaking her face side to side and then squishing her cheeks to make her pout.
You freeze at spot. For a moment you wonder if it's the alcohol that’s making you see things, but no. The scene is a bit too vivid to be stemmed from your alcohol induced imagination.
Both of them break into a chuckle as Namjoon retrieves his hands from her face and places his right hand on top of her hair, patting on her head. “I hope you know you are beautiful just the way you are.” he affirms.
A dull pain sets on your chest. If this is how he treats his best friend then why not you? What is wrong with being touchy with you in public?
Wait. Now that you think back - Namjoon has not been very physically affectionate with you in this ten month old relationship. Apart from holding hands and occasionally wrapping his arm around your shoulder - he doesn’t really initiate touch. Making out and having sex are completely different aspects, so you are not going to count that in.
Not being able to watch the scene unfolding anymore, you look away. Even though stubborn tears try to spill out of your eyes, you try hard and blink them away.
—
“What is it? You have been quiet since mid-dinner” Namjoon’s voice tells of his curiosity. He really has no clue as it seems.
“Nothing.” your head is in a circus of questions and thoughts that you are overthinking about. You can not organize those no matter how hard you try.
“Hey… tell me what’s up?” his hand reaches for yours as he tries to comfort you through his touch. It throws you off.
Looking away from the window, you look down at his hand, which is resting on top of yours.
“Is it more comfortable for you now because there’s no one to see us?” you ask, eyeing the driver very briefly.
“What?” Namjoon asks, clearly having no clue.
“You didn’t feel comfortable holding my hand before your friends, but you… you were acting all lovey-dovey with Sonyeon. Is it me? Do I make you feel uncomfortable?” risking a glance at him, you find Namjoon looking at you with blown out pupils.
“Is this why you are so quiet?” he launches his next question. You only shrug in reply. His sigh rings right beside your ear. “Y/N” your boyfriend starts, “I have known her since university. And we just met a year ago.”
“And?” you really don’t get his point, “if time is the issue why are you dating me and not her?”
Namjoon groans, taking his hand away from you, “you are being childish now, Y/N.” he accuses you coldly.
“Am I? You have never cupped my face or patted my head like that. Am I really childish for asking for a bit of physical affection from my own boyfriend?” you can feel a migraine looming behind your eyes. You don’t like fighting, but it feels inevitable this time.
“We have a healthy sexual relationship-”
“It’s not about sex. You know that.”
“Then I really don’t get it. I really don’t!” he rakes a hand through his hair and scoots further away from you.
“Ajussi.” you call out to the driver, “can you please drop me off here?”
“What do you think you are doing?” Namjoon protests, but you don’t pay him any attention.
The driver, although hesitating, stops the car to let you out.
“Let’s take a break from each other. I need to sort out my thoughts.” These are your last words to Namjoon, as you get out of the car and start walking as fast as possible.
If you had a faint wish of him realizing something, it wanes when he doesn’t come running behind you.
Kim Seokjin
You stare at Seokjin’s side profile as he plays whatever game that he is playing.
Maybe you saved your country in your last life, that’s why you got to score someone as handsome and talented as Kim Seokjin. The relationship is very new, you are still learning about each other, but you are falling fast and hard.
Seokjin is sweet, kind, absolutely funny, nice and most importantly, respects your choices and you as a human being. Anyone who gets to know him, is bound to fall for him. You are about to lean on the couch and place a chaste kiss on his lips, just when-
“Seokjinnie, do you want some shrimp chips?” Danmi screams from the kitchen. Even her voice irritates you beyond imagination.
Now, you are not one of those evil girlfriends who controls every aspect of their partner’s life. Neither you have anything against his friends nor do you limit who Seokjin can meet, who he can’t. But this one person is exclusively annoying to you and you wish you could pluck her out of your boyfriend’s life for as long as you are with him.
“Yes please.” Seokjin screams back, he looks away from the screen very briefly to smile at her through the open space of the kitchen.
He never looks away from the screen when he is gaming, not even when you have something important to talk about. A frown makes its way to your forehead, but before you can start the conversation, Danmi walks into the living room and drops herself right beside Seokjin, almost on his lap.
You, sitting on the further side of the couch, don’t even get a speck of attention from any of them.
“Thank you!” Seokjin adjusts himself on the couch. You sigh out of relief, at least your boyfriend has some basic human decency left. However, you thought too early because right on the next moment, Seokjin is scooting a bit down on the couch to let her put her head on his shoulder.
You watch everything happening from the other side of the couch. You watch while wondering how can he be so comfortable with his girl best friend when he basically shoos you away whenever he is gaming?
Is this something they have been doing for the better part of their lives? When you were not his girlfriend? That must be it.
He looks so comfortable with the best friend’s head on his shoulder that it makes you a little jealous from within. You know your relationship is rather new and it will take him some time to be comfortable with you, but Seokjin is not shy during sex, and looking at him and his best friend now - he is not showing any sign of unease with casual touches either. Then why doesn't he cuddle the same way with you?
Why doesn’t he behave as softly as he does with her?
Crawling on the couch, you move closer to him, wrap a hand around his elbow and press your cheek on his bicep.
When he doesn’t react the same way he always does, you smile to yourself. Is he changing? Or is it because Danmi is here? Whatever it is, it seems to be fine with him.
You don’t even get to finish off your thought as Seokjin starts pulling his hand away from you.
“Ah! It’s tough to control the console if you restrict my dominant hand like this.” he groans. Having no other choice you sit straight and look at him. He looks down at you, “sorry baby, but can you please move a bit?” he adds with a smile.
You look at Danmi, seemingly asleep on Seokjin’s shoulder now, and then look back at him.
“Sure. I am moving away.” you reply, scooting away from him and then standing up.
You wait for him to resume gaming so that he is too engrossed to see what you are up to. Once he gets into the game again, you reach for your bag and start walking towards the door.
If he really finds it easier to play with his best friend clinging to him, but your affection is a hindrance - then you better go out of the picture.
It had only been six months after all. You are sure you can move on from him. No matter how much you started liking him within these few months, you can move on.
You definitely can.
Min Yoongi
No one is perfect.
Even the most intelligent ones lack in more ways than one. The most beautiful ones have their own flaws and hence, you never questioned Yoongi why he is so much against physical affection.
This is just the way he is. He would look for your hands to hold when you two are walking through a crowded street. But when you two are home and you are starting to get all cozy with him, he would freeze on his spot as if you are an iron bar left under the snow for far too long. For the first few months, it bothered you. You thought he is not into you as much as you are into him. But as you slowly started to decode his persona, you realized that this is just who he is. The acceptance has made it easier for you to think less and respect his boundaries more. So, it doesn’t matter if he touches you a little less than you want him to - as long as you can see the affection in his eyes, it is fine, you are fine.
The movie plays in the background, you are not paying even a speck of attention to it. All of your body is vibrating with want and need as your bicep is pressing against Yoongi. He is warm, he feels comfortable. The faint light from the television illuminates his profile, his glasses are sitting low on his nose, his lips look incredibly inviting.
Pressing your cheek on his upper arm, you tip your face upwards. Yoongi, feeling your eager eyes, looks down at you. You make sure to look at his eyes for a few seconds before dropping your eyes down to his lips.
Yoongi’s eyes follow suit. There’s a very faint smile on his lips as he starts leaning down. Just when his lips are about to meet yours the doorbell rings. Yoongi jerks out of the trance and turns his head to look at the door.
“I will be back.” he adds before leaving the couch and walking towards the dash cam. You watch as he presses the camera button and as his eyes enlarge, spotting the person who is standing on the other side of the door. He almost runs the short distance between the dash and the door and opens the door without wasting a single second.
You hoist your waist to take a look at the guest. You see her after her high pitched sob reaches your ears.
“Yoongi!” screams Sooha, Yoongi’s best friend, whom you have met only a handful of times before. And the next thing you see, she is jumping on Yoongi’s arms.
Your mouth opens when Yoongi not only accepts the hug but also holds her tighter than you have ever experienced with him. Although your vision is obscured from here, the way his hands are moving you can tell that he is rubbing circles on her back.
Okay. That's fine. She is sobbing for whatever reason, trying to soothe her is the only most humane thing to do. Maybe you should try to do that too.
Standing up from the couch, you start walking towards the door where your boyfriend and his best friend are standing. But before you can reach them, you see Yoongi pulling himself out of the embrace and placing both of his hands on her cheeks, wiping her tears away.
“Hey hey hey, calm down okay? Tell me what happened?” he mutters in the softest voice you have ever heard him using.
“G-Ginger…” Sooha hiccups, “G-ginger is no more.” she breaks into a loud sob. Yoongi pulls her in his embrace again, this time keeping one hand right on the back of her head and pats it lovingly.
Suddenly you are reminded of the night you came crying to him pretty much similarly. It was a tough day at work, you made a silly mistake and your manager scolded you before the entire department. And Yoongi only held your hands while you sobbed uncontrollably. Neither did he hug you, nor did he talk to you in that voice.
If he can do that to his best friend, why not you?
They start walking inside the apartment without bothering about your existence. You watch them, you watch your boyfriend being softer, more lovey-dovey with someone else with moisture gathering in your eyes.
“Yoongi?” you tap on his shoulder as he and his best friend settles on the couch, he looks up at you with a bewildered expression.
“Yeah?” His urgency is audible in his voice as the girl keeps sobbing in his arms.
“I will leave. I think you two need some privacy.” your voice weavers as you say the words. Yoongi only nods, going back to calm his best friend down. As he doesn’t even attempt to stop you from leaving, even when the night was meant to be saved for you - you realize your worth.
The relationship is new, you know you should not be too demanding right now. But action speaks louder than words. If you don’t really mean much to him, he shouldn’t mean much to you either.
As you walk out of the door you decide to give him only as much he gives to you. If you are less important than his best friend to you, then he can’t be topping your priorities either.
Jung Hoseok
Now if you tell people that you have only kissed twice and had a little bit of a foreplay only once in your three months of relationship, then they will only laugh at you. Given that you and your partner like to take things slow, you don’t mind.
Not at least for most of the time.
However, there are times like these when you watch him moving his body to the beat, in a way that demands everyone’s utmost attention. You watch him bending and flowing his body with the music, his shirt rides up and a silver of his skin catches your eyes for a moment.
It does something to you - something similar to the obsession that Victorian men would have felt upon catching a woman's ankle. And in times like these, taking things slow feels like a crime - a crime that would kill you slowly.
Maybe today you can take the first step? Maybe then Hoseok won’t hesitate? And maybe then you’ll get to touch him, hold him like the way you have been wanting for so long?
The music comes to an end, Hoseok straightens up and then bows. Everyone breaks into loud cheers and claps. You clap too.
He smiles, as bright as a sun and starts strolling towards the corridor. You start following him because he definitely doesn’t know that you are here.
You hold the studio door before it can close behind his back. Feeling the unusual force Hoseok looks back and another smile takes over his face. “Hey” he sing songs.
“Hi” you close the door behind you.
“I didn’t know you were here?” he pulls you into a loose hug, but it’s not enough. You want more of that body warmth.
“I was watching you dance.” you confess, he strolls towards the couch and falls on it.
“Really? Did you like my moves?” his voice gives out his exhaustion but he tries to be jolly regardless.
You drop down beside him, a little closer than usual.
“I loved your moves.” placing a chaste kiss on his lips, you wait for him to take it further. But he only smiles. God! Why is he being shy again?
Taking things in your own hand, you hoist yourself up on your hands and try to press your lips on him. But hoseok places his hands on both of your shoulders and pushes you away.
“I- uh- I am really tired right now, can we not… please?” he asks sheepishly. The rush of embarrassment is immediate.
“Oh.. I am sorry.” you pull yourself back on the couch, “Can I hug you at least?” pushing down the ill feeling, you open your arms wide. He wouldn't say no to a hug, right?
“I am kind of sweaty, and you know it’s really hot too?” he rejects you right away. And this time, it’s not embarrassment but a sharp pain that arrows through your heart.
“Do you feel uncomfortable with me?” you ask even before you know what you are doing. Hoseok looks away, stares at the floor.
“It’s been three months since we started seeing each other and we have only kissed. I want to take things further, Hoseok, but you don’t seem to be too interested.” The sting behind your eyes tells you of your fresh tears that might start rolling down your cheeks very soon.
He sighs, “I don’t- I am not ready yet. I don’t feel fully comfortable with you, Y/N. I am sorry. I would appreciate it if you don’t force anything on me.”
“Okay! Fine! I won’t even touch you anymore.” Anger comes before your tears can. You don’t want to cry before him so you rush out of the studio.
—
“I am sorry.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you:(“
The texts arrive on your phone sometimes around midnight. You have had some time to cool down and think things over. And now that you look at messages, you feel rather bad.
Not everyone is the same after all. Just because your exes didn’t take time to push you into the bed, does not mean Hoseok has to be the same.
He has actually been quite shy with you now that you think about it. He hardly ever initiates physical touch and maybe that's just who he is. Instead of rushing him into something he is not ready for yet, you should have respected his space.
Turning the phone off, you go back to bed. Maybe you should act like you are still angry and then show up at his classes again to surprise him after work?
Yeah! Right! That’s the best possible solution to apologize and make up. Closing your eyes with anticipation bubbling inside your chest, you fall asleep with a light of hope.
—
You are standing right on the spot where you were standing yesterday. However, today Hoseok is not dancing, he is reviewing the stage formation or blueprint or something of that sort on his ipad.
You are about to walk towards him and tap on his shoulder just when you hear a shrill, “Hobiiiiii”. It’s the voice of a woman and before you can look for her, you feel someone dash past you. She runs to Hoseok and jumps on his arms. Your boyfriend, instead of pushing her away the way he did to you yesterday. He wraps his hands around her waist and spins a full 360 degree.
Now as you finally see her face, you recognize her. She is Hoseok’s best friend, (who he talks a lot about), Iesul. This is the first time you are seeing her as she has been out on a world tour with her team for the past five months.
You knew these two had a special bond, but you didn’t know it was something more precious than you can ever have with Hoseok.
You watch as he puts her down and then presses a kiss on the top of her head.
Oh… so the problem was not who he is, but who you are. It’s only you with whom he can’t do all these for some reason.
Can the reason be that he doesn’t like you as much as he thought he did before starting to date you? Maybe…
The more you watch them being all lovey-dovey before everyone, the darker it gets within you. He is so engrossed in being affectionate and touchy with his best friend that he doesn’t even see you standing here, watching him with tears in your eyes.
Cool then. You will leave.
Turning your heels you walk out of the building fast.
Not everyone is the same, but a relationship is all about accommodating each other. You haven’t found Hoseok doing the same for you even when you are trying your best to accommodate him. so, you are concluding that he is not the one for you.
Taking your phone out of your pocket you open his text and start typing,
“Let’s break up. I will leave the shoes that you gifted me last month at the reception tomorrow. I haven’t even taken the tag yet, so they are as new as the day you gave them to me. I appreciate the time you spent with me. But maybe we are not for each other.”
“All the best for your life ahead, Hoseok.”
“Take care. Good bye.”
Pocketing your phone again, you start walking towards the bus stand. Glad it was over soon. Because if just three months hurt you like this, you have no idea what a longer relationship would do.
Park Jimin
Your hands start shaking as you watch the clip play on your phone.
A sudden shock of pain sprouts and slices through your heart. The clip goes on, sounds of giggle and laughter spills through the small speakers of your phone. You watch your boyfriend laughing behind his hand as his best friend, a woman, tries to braid his hair into multiple small braids. Her fingers falter, she curses and Jimin doubles over laughing. His head sprawls on her lap and the scene stabs your heart in a painful blow.
Now, you are not a toxic girlfriend who would have issues with her boyfriend’s best friend. But there’s a certain context behind the pain you are experiencing right now.
Two days, just two days ago, you found yourself being captivated by your boyfriend’s mystic blonde locks. And you, despite your respect towards his personal boundaries, ran a hand through his hair while he was laying beside you on the couch. His reaction was something you never even considered thinking of. He jerked out of his comfortable sitting position and stared at you with an expression that you never perceived before.
Being utterly shocked and confused you asked, “what happened?”
He looked at you for some time more, before sighing and opening his mouth to give you the most ridiculous reply, “I don’t like my hair to be touched. I thought you knew that?”
You didn’t. You really had no idea. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Now you do, right? So please…” he smiled a little. And you nodded. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek and you immediately forgot the impact.
However, now that you saw the story that he posted by himself without even hesitating about the fact that you would see the same, you realize that it’s you - it’s you who he doesn’t prefer to be touched by.
Inhaling a long strip of oxygen, you grab your car keys and dash out of the apartment. If Jimin thinks he can get away with this without offering a reasonable explanation then he is very wrong.
—
The door opens revealing Jimin on the same braids his best friends did on him. His eyes go wide as he spots you, but soon a smile replaces his surprise.
“Hey, I didn’t know you would be visiting me.” He tries to hug you, but you move away.
“I need to talk to you.” you see his best friend, Bitna, peeking at the door, “alone.”
Jimin’s expressions dim, “come in first.” he moves away from the door and lets you in. Once you are in, your eyes go to his best friend, who grabs her bag and walks towards Jimin.
“I will be leaving now, Jiminie, bye.” she hugs her, awfully tight, and he responds with just as much of urgency.
You wait at the same spot as Jimin walks her to the door to see her off. “What is it, Y/N? You look serious.” he walks towards you with lazy steps while mouthing the words.
“You told me you don’t like your hair to be touched.” With your heart thumping in your chest, you let him know, “and yet you posted that story of Bitna playing with your hair.”
Jimin stills, his mouth opens a little ajar as he tries to form a reply, “is that why you are here? To confront me?” a scoff leaves his mouth.
“Yes. That's why I am here. I am here to ask you if she can braid your hair, why did you push me away when I only touched it?” a tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek.
“Y/N!” Jimin almost screams, “she is my best friend! I have known her since we both were in diapers. We grew up pulling each other’s hair. Of course she is special.”
“Oh.. so she is special and I am just as ordinary as everyone else, huh? Is that what you are saying?” a few more drops of tears roll down your cheek.
“You are twisting my words-”
“You just said that and it's cool.” Wiping the wetness off of your face harshly, you continue, “if she is just that special to you, then go and be with her. You definitely don’t need me!” turning on your heels you run out of his apartment.
Even when you hear him calling behind your back, you choose not to stop.
Kim Taehyung
Having a social butterfly boyfriend means you get used to living with it.
It has only been five months since you and Taehyung made things official, and just within this short span of time, you have gotten accustomed to his huge popularity among his friends, acquaintances and even people you knew before him.
It never fails to amaze you, how easygoing he is, how easily likeable he is and still… still there’s this unfathomable distance that lies between you two, the unresolved tension that’s building a thick wall separating you from him.
The closer you try to get to him, the further he pushes you away. Each time you try to take things to the next level - he bursts into a ball of coyness.
For the first few times you were shocked yourself. You didn’t know how to accept the fact that social butterfly Kim Taehyung is actually this shy behind the closed doors. However, as the same events keep repeating over and over again, you become convinced of the fact that he is just not ready yet and he will open up when it’s time.
However, the inaccessible part of him has become the primary element that is building this great wall between you two.
Today is his birthday, and today, you have decided to talk to him after the party is over. You are aware that the timing might not be right, but he would be in a good mood and you can approach him without the fear of making an already bad day worse.
A cluster of giggles and loud cheers make their way to your ears as you approach the small lounge Taehyung has rented to celebrate his birthday. Pushing the door open you find him standing at the photozone. A few of his friends are clicking his pictures from every possible angle.
A smile spreads on your lips as you take your careful steps towards your boyfriend. He hasn’t seen you yet, so you decide to wave your hand in order to get his attention. But just when you are about to raise your limb, someone else screams for his attention.
“Taetae, take photos with me now!” It's Yuri, Taehyung’s best friend. They are, allegedly, inseparable. You have met her a few times and she has always been extremely kind and sweet towards you. However, the closeness she sports with your boyfriend bothers you a little.
Even now you see her as she runs towards Taehyung and he wraps a hand around her waist, pulling her on his chest. They giggle as others click them like they are the hot-shot celebrity couple people are talking about these days.
Taehyung’s eyes fall into yours briefly. He smiles and wiggles his fingers in a greeting before looking away and going back to his photo session with Yuri.
Wow… just a gesture? That’s all you get while he keeps posing with her? Letting her touch him in a way he doesn’t allow you yet?
Your heart starts to squeeze in an immense amount of pain as you very slowly realize the worth of your existence in his life. While a part of you understands that the relationship is too new to start demanding everything right away, another part of you berates you for being too blind.
Five months might be short to start thinking of becoming serious, but long enough to be comfortable with your partner. If you can give him that access to you, why can’t he?
Is it not because he just does not see you the way you see him?
Maybe… maybe that’s what the case is.
A drop of tear makes its way out of your eyes as you see him couching down on the floor and Yuri getting on his back. He poses with his best friend on his back and doesn’t even bother giving you another glance.
And that’s enough. That’s enough for you to make a decision.
Walking towards the nearest table, you put the gift on top of it and exit the lounge just as quietly as you entered.
You want to see if Taehyung notices your absence at all, and if he does then when. You leave it up to him now. His actions will determine the future of this relationship.
For you, it has ended the moment he chose his best friend over you.
Jeon Jungkook
Falling in love with Jungkook is as easy as slipping down a snowy road wearing slippers.
It didn’t take you much time to get swept away by that bunny smile and those starry eyes. And even before you knew it, your heart was beating twice as fast whenever Jungkook, so much so, looked your way.
Thankfully, Jungkook’s feelings were very mutual, which led you to start dating just after a month of knowing each other through some mutual friends. You have been together for half a year now - taking things at a natural pace while falling in love at the speed of light.
And the best thing about him? It’s his duality. He is a beast in bed but a shy little kid with big eyes when you two are just doing normal couple stuff. Currently you have your head laid on his shoulder as he pours the seasoning packet into the cup ramyeon. A sweet summer breeze blows, ruffling his hair a bit. Straightening up, you run a finger through his locks and being overwhelmed by this humongous attraction, you place your lips on his cheek in a kiss.
Jungkook startles. His eyes go big as he turns his head to look at you as if you have committed a scandalous act.
“What?” you giggle, totally enamoured by his cuteness.
“We are in public.” he replies, still sporting the same expressions.
“We are at han gang, Jungkook-ah. The people surrounding us are mostly couples.”
“Yeah but still. We are still very new and I am not yet very comfortable with PDA.” he goes back to stirring the ramyeon.
The drop in your mood is instant, but you know he is not totally wrong. A relationship can never be 50-50. One will be more emotional than the other, one will be giving more than the other and that is how it gets balanced. So, shoving the little hurt feeling under the rug, you smile at him, “But we will get there one day, right?”
“Of course.” Jungkook prompts without even sparing you a glance.
“Jungkookie! What are you doing here?” a female voice comes right from behind. You whip your head to look at the owner of the same and find an attractive woman with a familiar face.
“Byeol-ie!!” Jungkook places the cup ramyeon on the ground and jumps to stand up, “I thought you were coming back next week?”
Oh… this is Hanbyeol. Jungkook’s best friend whom you only saw in his social media posts. As you got to know from Jungkook, she was visiting her parents in the states for a few months. But now she is back and your boyfriend looks very happy with her return.
“Yeah I was about to, but things came up at work.” she replies, eyes drifting towards you, “this is Y/N, right? OMG, I have been waiting to meet you.” she smiles brightly at you.
“Hi.” You return the courtesy by giving her a genuine smile, “nice to meet you.” You look back at Jungkook only to find his eyes are trained at Hanbyeol.
“We are having ramyeon, do you want some?” he invites her without your permission.
“I should not eat carbs while running, but I am hungry, so lets just-” she sits down, Jungkook follows suit.
“Here, eat from mine.” he offers her his own bowl as you watch everything with your heart dropping to your stomach.
“Thanks jungkookie, I will give you a kissie in return.” Hanbyeol prompts while placing her lips on his cheek just like you did a few minutes before. But surprisingly enough, Jungkook does not flinch this time. He giggles, wraps a hand around her shoulder and pulls her closer to him.
Your breath hitches as you realize how different his reactions were based on the person who is doing that to him.
He pushed you away saying he doesn’t feel quite comfortable yet and on the other hand, he pulled his best friend even closer to him. And you don’t know how to process it, what to make out of it.
“I’ll get to the washroom quickly.” Standing up, you inform your boyfriend. But don’t get more than a casual nod as he is too busy catching up with his best friend.
As you slowly stroll towards the exit of the park, you realize certain things, certain people are better to let go because holding onto them only hurts more than it would in letting go.
