we're wrapping up our music month with the top 20 artists tumblr users are most engaging with based on user data; the musicians that spark a creative flame within us all. the music of tumblr wouldn’t be what it is without these creative masters of sound.
without further ado, the top artist of 2025-2026 was… Lana Del Rey! ever since "Video Games" dropped in 2011, Lana has been a tumblr mainstay. so ingrained with the girlblogging aesthetic, and with our platform, the lana stove is burning hotter than ever and we love to see it.
turns out tumblr truly transcends genres and labels as much as ever. must be a sign of the times...
20. Twenty One Pilots 19. Ethel Cain 18. Harry Styles 17. Hyunjin 16. SEVENTEEN 15. Sabrina Carpenter 14. Jung Kook 13. The Beatles 12. Bang Chan 11. ATEEZ 10. BTS 9. Taylor Swift 8. Hatsune Miku 7. Gerard Way 6. Vocaloid 5. ENHYPEN 4. Stray Kids 3. My Chemical Romance 2. TXT 1. Lana Del Rey
──𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 :: when they’re secretly in love & get jealous
𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎::emotional tension, clingy behavior, silent jealousy,smut,dom x sub,
𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀::11k
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰ bts x reader
𖦹𝗔/𝗻::Join my taglist
𖦹 M.list 𖦹 B.list 𖦹 taglist
✧ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧
On the surface, Namjoon was the embodiment of calm control. The leader who carried the weight of the group with quiet strength, always composed, always measured in his words and actions.
But beneath that polished exterior, a fierce storm brewed whenever he had to watch you interact with anyone else. He was secretly in love, the kind of deep, unspoken affection that had been building for months behind closed doors and stolen moments.
You two had agreed to keep everything hidden—the pressures of idol life, the fans, the contracts—it all demanded secrecy. Yet that secrecy only sharpened the jealousy that clawed at him.
He sat in the corner of the spacious backstage waiting room, one leg crossed over the other, pretending to immerse himself in a thick philosophy book he'd carried from the hotel. The pages turned slowly under his long fingers, but his sharp eyes weren't absorbing the text.
Every sound from across the room pulled his focus: your soft laughter, the low murmur of the backup dancer's voice, the way the man leaned in just a fraction too close. Namjoon's chest tightened with that familiar burn.
He told himself to breathe, to stay rational. You weren't his in the eyes of the world. Not yet. But in his heart, you were already everything.
The dancer said something that made you laugh again, brighter this time. Namjoon's grip on the book pages tightened until the paper creased. He forced his expression to remain neutral, but inside, his mind raced with possessive thoughts. That smile belonged to him.
Those sparkling eyes when you were amused—they were for him during late-night conversations in hidden hotel rooms. Not for some guy who didn't know the way you sighed when his hands traced your spine.
Then it happened. The dancer reached out, his fingers brushing your arm in what was meant to be a casual gesture. But it lingered.
The touch dragged slowly, too familiar, too bold. Namjoon's jaw clenched hard, the muscle ticking visibly for a split second before he schooled his features. He closed the book with a deliberate snap, the sound cutting through the room like a quiet warning.
Rising to his full height, broad shoulders straight and presence commanding, he crossed the space in unhurried strides. The air seemed heavier as he approached.
"Are you done talking?" His voice was low, deep, and smooth like velvet over steel. It wasn't overtly rude—Namjoon was too intelligent for that—but the underlying edge of authority made the dancer straighten immediately.
The man mumbled something about checking on choreography and excused himself, retreating quickly under the weight of Namjoon's steady gaze.
You turned toward him, one eyebrow arched in that knowing way that always sent heat through his veins. A small, secret smile played on your lips.
Namjoon didn't speak further in front of the others. Instead, he placed a large, warm hand on the small of your back, the touch firm and guiding. It was possessive without being obvious to anyone watching.
He steered you out of the main room and down the quieter hallway toward his private dressing area.
The second the door clicked shut behind you, locking out the world, the composure cracked wide open.
Namjoon backed you against the wall in one fluid motion, his tall, muscular frame pressing flush against yours.
One hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up as his mouth claimed yours in a hungry, demanding kiss. His tongue swept in, tasting and dominating, pouring out all the jealousy he'd bottled up.
When he pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours, eyes dark and intense.
"You enjoy testing me like this, don't you?" he murmured, voice rough around the edges. His free hand slid down your side, gripping your waist hard enough to leave faint marks. "Letting him touch your arm, laugh with you, stand so close... knowing I'm right there watching every second."
You started to respond, but he silenced you with another deep kiss, teeth grazing your lower lip. His hands worked quickly but deliberately, peeling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside.
His mouth trailed hot kisses down your neck, sucking at the sensitive spot just below your ear until you gasped. He marked you there, a subtle bruise that only the two of you would know about later.
"I hate it," he admitted between kisses, voice low and honest. "I hate pretending I don't feel anything when someone else gets even a piece of your attention. You're mine in every way that matters, even if we can't say it out loud yet."
He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his hips as he carried you to the wide couch against the far wall. Laying you down gently but with clear urgency, he hovered over you, stripping off his own shirt to reveal the defined lines of his chest and shoulders.
His skin was warm as he pressed down again, mouth exploring every inch of exposed skin. He took one nipple between his lips, sucking firmly while his fingers teased the other, rolling and pinching until you arched beneath him with a soft moan.
Lower still, he went, kissing down your stomach, nipping at your hips as he removed the rest of your clothes. When you were fully bare, he knelt between your spread thighs, eyes locked on yours with burning intensity.
"Look at me," he commanded softly. His tongue dragged slowly through your folds, savoring your taste with a deep groan that vibrated against you.
He took his time, licking and sucking with expert precision, two thick fingers sliding inside you and curling just right to hit that perfect spot.
Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, hips rolling against his face as pleasure built fast. Namjoon held you steady with one strong arm across your lower stomach, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming sensation.
He alternated between slow, teasing licks and intense suction on your clit, fingers pumping steadily until your thighs trembled around his head.
" Namjoon... please," you gasped, right on the edge.
But he pulled back at the last moment, lips glistening, a dark smile on his face. He stood, shedding the rest of his clothes to reveal his thick, hard cock already leaking with need. He stroked himself slowly, watching you writhe on the couch.
"Tell me who you belong to," he said, voice husky with restrained desire.
"I'm yours, Joon. Only yours."
He moved over you again, positioning himself at your entrance and pushing in with one long, deep thrust. The stretch was perfect, filling you completely.
He groaned your name, hips starting a slow, grinding rhythm that quickly built in intensity.
One hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other gripping your thigh to hold you open wider for him. Each thrust was deliberate, possessive, skin slapping against skin in the quiet room.
"You feel incredible," he breathed against your neck, biting down gently. "So tight, so wet for me. No one else will ever have this. No one else gets to hear the sounds you make when I'm inside you."
He angled his hips to hit that sensitive spot inside with every stroke, driving you higher. Your moans filled the space, mixing with his low grunts.
The jealousy fueled him, making his movements harder, deeper, more claiming. When your orgasm crashed over you, walls clenching tightly around him, he kept going through it, prolonging the pleasure until you were shaking.
Only then did he let himself go, thrusting deep one final time and spilling inside you with a guttural moan, his body shuddering against yours. For long moments afterward, he stayed buried deep, holding you close as your breathing slowed.
He eventually pulled out carefully, gathering you into his arms on the couch. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, the earlier storm of jealousy easing into tender affection. "I'm sorry for the intensity," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
"I know we have to keep this secret for now. The timing isn't right, the world isn't ready. But seeing another man touch you, even innocently... it drives me insane. I just want you completely. Mind, body, everything."
You nestled closer against his chest, smiling as you felt his heartbeat under your cheek. "I love when you show me how much I mean to you. It makes me feel wanted in a way no one else ever has."
Namjoon chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine now. His hand slid down your body again, cupping your ass possessively. "Good. Because we're not done yet. I need to remind you a few more times before we have to go back out there."
He kissed you slowly this time, building things up again with patient touches and whispered praises. Round two was slower, more intimate—him taking you from behind while you gripped the back of the couch, his chest pressed to your back, one hand between your legs rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.
He murmured how perfect you were, how no one could ever compare, how he fell more in love every single day.
By the time you both finished again, the room felt warmer, heavier with the scent of sex and shared breaths.
Namjoon helped clean you up gently, then held you in his lap, stroking your hair as you talked quietly about nothing and everything. The jealousy hadn't vanished completely—it never did when love ran this deep and had to stay hidden—but it was soothed by the certainty of your connection.
He was calm again on the outside when you eventually returned to the others.
But now you carried his marks, his touch, his claim beneath your clothes. And that was enough for him, for now.
✧
✧ 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧
Seokjin had always been the dramatic one, the member who could turn even the smallest inconvenience into a full theatrical performance.
But when it came to you, his secret love, that drama wasn’t just for show—it masked something much deeper. He was head over heels, the kind of love that kept him up at night thinking about your laugh, your voice, the way you looked at him when no one else was watching.
You two had agreed to keep it hidden for now, protecting the relationship from the intense spotlight of idol life. Still, every time someone else stole your attention, it hit him harder than he let on.
The backstage area buzzed with pre-concert energy. Staff members hurried around, stylists adjusted outfits, and the members stretched or reviewed last-minute details. Seokjin lounged against a table, flipping through his phone with practiced nonchalance, but his eyes kept drifting to you across the room.
You were chatting with one of the newer lighting technicians—a friendly, outgoing guy who had been making everyone laugh all week. The technician leaned in closer as he explained some technical detail, gesturing animatedly, and you smiled at him, nodding along.
Seokjin’s fingers paused on his screen. He forced a smile, but inside, irritation prickled. It’s just a conversation, he told himself. You’re allowed to talk to people.
Yet the way the guy’s hand brushed your shoulder lightly as he pointed something out on a tablet made Seokjin’s stomach twist. He cleared his throat loudly, but no one noticed. Fine. He could play this game.
“Wow, okayyyy, I see how it is,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to potentially hear if you were paying attention. You didn’t turn. The technician said something else, and you laughed again—that bright, genuine laugh that Seokjin usually earned with his dad jokes and cooking stories.
He pushed off the table, wandering closer under the pretense of grabbing a water bottle. “Guess I’m invisible now,” he added in a sing-song voice, dramatic and pouty, drawing a few amused glances from nearby staff. But his eyes stayed on you, sharp and needy.
Deep down, it wasn’t just theatrics. He genuinely felt the sting. He wanted your focus on him, your smiles directed at him, your time reserved for stolen moments in hotel rooms or quiet van rides where he could whisper how much he adored you.
The technician touched your arm again, this time resting his hand there a second too long while showing you a funny video on his phone. That was it.
Seokjin stepped forward with exaggerated flair, placing a hand on his chest like he’d been wounded. “Ah, I see the new lighting expert has taken over my role as the funniest person in the room. Should I just disappear into the background? Maybe become a stage prop?” His tone was light, teasing, but the undercurrent of real upset made his words sharper than usual.
The technician blinked, suddenly awkward, and pulled his hand back quickly.
You turned to Seokjin, catching the flash of genuine hurt behind his dramatic mask. The technician excused himself with a nervous chuckle, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
As soon as the two of you had a moment of semi-privacy near the edge of the room, Seokjin’s facade cracked further. He crossed his arms, lips pursed in that signature pout. “You like him more than me now? Be honest. I can take it. I’m just the handsome chef who makes you laugh and cooks your favorite meals at 2 a.m. No big deal.”
You rolled your eyes fondly, but before you could respond, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward his private dressing room down the hall, closing the door firmly behind you. The lock clicked, sealing you both away from prying eyes.
The moment the world was shut out, Seokjin’s dramatic complaints melted into raw emotion. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight back hug from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.
His breath was warm against your neck. “I hate this,” he whispered, voice dropping the playful tone. “I hate pretending I don’t care when someone else touches you or makes you laugh. I want all of it. Your attention, your time, your everything. It’s selfish, but I’m in love with you. Secretly, stupidly, completely.”
His hands roamed up your sides, pulling you closer against his chest. The clinginess kicked in hard—exactly as expected after his jealousy flared. He pressed a series of soft forehead kisses along your hairline, then turned you in his arms to face him. “You like me more, right? Tell me. I need to hear it.”
“Of course I do, Jin. Only you,” you reassured him, and that was all it took.
His mouth descended on yours in a kiss that started tender but quickly ignited with pent-up need. Seokjin kissed like he performed— with full commitment and flair.
His lips moved against yours hungrily, tongue teasing until you parted for him. He backed you toward the couch, never breaking contact, his large hands cupping your face as if you might vanish.
Clothes came off in a heated rush. He peeled your shirt away slowly, savoring the reveal of your skin, then shed his own to expose his broad shoulders and toned chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion and desire.
He laid you down on the couch, hovering over you, dropping more forehead kisses and soft ones along your collarbone. His hands explored everywhere—squeezing your waist, tracing your curves, gripping your thighs as he settled between them.
Seokjin took his time, despite the urgency of his jealousy. He kissed down your body, lingering at your breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his fingers played with the other. You arched into him, fingers threading through his dark hair.
Lower, he went, until his breath ghosted over your core. He looked up at you with those expressive eyes, still a hint of that dramatic pout lingering. “This is mine. Only mine.”
His tongue delved in, licking a slow stripe through your folds before focusing on your clit with precise, teasing circles. Two fingers slid inside you, curling expertly as he worked you open. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks up your spine.
Seokjin ate you out with the same dedication he put into everything—thorough, passionate, a little extra. He brought you right to the edge, then eased back, kissing your inner thighs while you caught your breath.
“Not yet,” he said, climbing back up your body. “I want to be inside you when you come. I want to feel how much you want me.”
He positioned himself, rubbing the thick head of his cock against your entrance, slick with your arousal and his saliva. With a deep push, he entered you, both of you groaning at the perfect fit.
Seokjin’s hips rolled slowly at first, savoring the connection, but jealousy still simmered beneath the surface. His pace quickened, thrusts becoming deeper and more insistent.
“Tell me again,” he panted between kisses, pinning your hands above your head with one of his. “You like me more, right? Say it while I fuck you.”
“I like you more—fuck, Jin, so much more,” you moaned, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper.
That spurred him on. He released your hands to grip your hips, angling you so every thrust hit that sweet spot inside. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your shared gasps, and his occasional dramatic whispers. “That’s right. No one else gets to make you feel like this. No technician, no staff, no one. Just me.”
He shifted positions, pulling you up so you straddled him on the couch. You rode him while he guided your movements with strong hands on your ass, thrusting up to meet you. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking marks that would be hidden under your clothes later.
One hand slipped between you, thumb circling your clit in time with your bounces.
Pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Seokjin could feel you tightening around him. “Come for me, baby. Show me I’m the only one.”
Your orgasm hit hard, waves crashing through you as you clenched around his cock, crying out his name. Seokjin followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a long, satisfied groan.
His arms wrapped around you tightly in another back hug as you both came down, even while still connected.
For several minutes, he just held you like that, pressing forehead kisses to your temple, your cheeks, anywhere he could reach. The clinginess returned full force.
“I’m sorry for being dramatic out there,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck. “But I can’t help it. When I see someone else getting your smiles, it makes me realize how badly I want to tell the whole world you’re mine. Until then… stay close to me, okay? Lots of hugs like this. Lots of kisses. And always tell me I’m your favorite.”
You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You are my favorite, Jin. Dramatics and all.”
He smiled, genuine and warm now that the jealousy had been soothed by your touch. But he wasn’t done. After cleaning you both up gently, he pulled you back into his lap, hands wandering again. “Round two,” he announced with a playful wink. “I need more reassurance. And more of those sounds you make just for me.”
This time was slower, more intimate. He took you from behind while you leaned over the couch arm, his chest pressed to your back in a constant hug.
One arm wrapped around your waist, the other between your legs, rubbing you as he thrust steadily. He whispered praises and silly jokes mixed with love confessions, keeping things light even as pleasure built again.
By the end, you were both exhausted in the best way, tangled together on the couch with his arms securely around you. Seokjin’s dramatic jealousy had led to this—raw passion, tender aftercare, and a deeper bond strengthened in secret. He kissed your forehead one last time.
“Don’t forget who loves you most, even when I have to pretend I don’t in front of everyone else.”
The concert would start soon, and he’d be back to his charismatic, funny self on stage. But you would carry his touch, his words, and the quiet promise of more hidden moments like this.
✧
✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢
Yoongi didn’t need to raise his voice or put on a show for his jealousy to land like ice water down the spine. It was the silence that made it terrifying—the way his face stayed almost neutral, sharp eyes narrowing just a fraction, while the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
He was in love with you in the quietest, most consuming way possible. A love built on late-night studio sessions where words weren’t necessary, on shared headphones and fingers brushing under tables. You kept it secret because that was the only way it could survive right now. But secrets had a way of sharpening everything else, especially the possessiveness he rarely let show.
The green room hummed with the usual pre-show chaos. Staff adjusted mics, members chatted in low voices, and you stood near the couch talking to one of the tour photographers.
The guy was friendly, talented, and clearly interested. He leaned against the wall, camera slung around his neck, smiling as he showed you some shots from the previous night on his screen. “You always end up looking perfect in these,” he said, voice dropping a little. “The way the light hits you… I could shoot you for hours.”
You laughed politely, flipping through the images. Yoongi sat on the opposite couch, hood up, earbuds in but no music playing. His expression didn’t change. He looked half-asleep, legs stretched out, cap pulled low. But his gaze followed every movement.
The way the photographer stepped closer. The way his hand brushed your elbow to point at something on the screen. The way you smiled back—not flirtatious, but warm enough to twist something deep in Yoongi’s chest.
He didn’t speak. Not at first. His answers to the staff member asking about setlist changes became short, almost curt. “Yeah.” “Fine.” “Whatever works.” The calm shifted. People around him started glancing over, sensing the subtle change in the air without understanding why. Yoongi’s eyes stayed locked on you, dark and unreadable, tracking the photographer’s every gesture like a predator deciding exactly when to strike.
When the guy laughed at something you said and let his fingers linger on your arm, tracing a light path down to your wrist while complimenting your “natural presence,” Yoongi moved. No words.
No dramatic sigh. He simply stood, crossed the room in that slow, deliberate way of his, and slid an arm around your waist from behind. His hand settled firmly, fingers pressing into your side with quiet ownership. He pulled you back against his chest, chin brushing your shoulder for a brief second before he released you—but not really. His presence stayed right there, a wall of silent warning.
The photographer straightened immediately, mumbling something about checking equipment, and disappeared faster than expected. Yoongi didn’t smile. He didn’t gloat. He just looked at you once, eyes saying everything his mouth wouldn’t: We’re leaving. Now.
He guided you out with that same hand on your waist, touch deceptively light but impossible to ignore. Down the hallway to his private dressing room.
The door shut with a soft click. The lock turned. And then the real shift happened.
Yoongi leaned against the door for a moment, staring at you. Still silent. The jealousy didn’t explode out of him like it might with the others. It coiled, controlled, and burned hotter because of it. He crossed to you slowly, backing you against the makeup counter without touching you at first.
His hands finally came up, framing your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks with surprising gentleness before his grip tightened just enough.
“You let him touch you,” he said, voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a question. “Laughed with him. Let him look at you like that.”
His lips crashed into yours before you could answer—slow, deep, devastating. Yoongi kissed like he produced music: layered, intentional, every movement building something heavier. His tongue slid against yours, claiming, while one hand dropped to your waist again, pulling your hips flush against him.
You could feel how hard he already was, pressed against your stomach.
He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down your neck, sucking lightly at first, then harder, leaving marks that would hide under your collar. “Mine,” he breathed against your skin. No theatrics.
Just fact. His hands worked methodically, peeling your shirt off, then his own. The sight of his pale skin, slim but toned torso, and the faint lines of muscle made your breath catch. He lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your legs.
Yoongi’s possessiveness showed in the calmest, most intense ways. He didn’t rush. He unbuttoned your pants and dragged them down along with your underwear, eyes never leaving yours. When you were bare, he ran his palms up your thighs, spreading them wider.
Two fingers traced your entrance, feeling how wet you already were, before sliding in deep. He curled them slowly, perfectly, watching every flicker across your face.
“Eyes on me,” he murmured when your head tipped back. His free hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. Those dark eyes held you captive while his fingers pumped steadily, thumb circling your clit with maddening precision.
The room filled with the wet sounds of his hand and your growing moans, but Yoongi stayed mostly quiet, only letting out low, controlled breaths.
He brought you right to the edge, then withdrew his fingers, ignoring your frustrated whimper. He freed himself from his pants, thick and flushed, stroking once before pressing the head against you.
One smooth thrust and he buried himself to the hilt, groaning softly into your neck. The stretch was perfect, overwhelming.
His hips rolled in deep, measured strokes. Not frantic—deliberate. Each thrust claimed you, reminded you exactly who you belonged to. One arm wrapped around your back, holding you impossibly close, while the other braced on the counter. Skin met skin in rhythmic slaps, but his voice stayed low.
“No one else gets this,” he whispered against your ear, biting the lobe. “No one else hears you moan like this. No one else feels how tight you get when I’m inside you.” His pace increased gradually, still controlled, but the jealousy fueled every snap of his hips. He angled just right, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.
You clutched his shoulders, nails digging in. “Yoongi—”
“Say it,” he demanded quietly, voice dark. “Tell me who you belong to while I fuck you.”
“You. Only you.”
That seemed to break something in his restraint. He lifted you off the counter, turning you around and bending you over it. Your hands braced on the cool surface as he entered you again from behind, deeper this way.
One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, the other reached around to rub your clit in tight circles. His chest pressed to your back, lips against your shoulder as he thrust harder, faster, but still terrifyingly silent except for the occasional low groan.
The orgasm built like a wave you couldn’t escape. When it crashed over you, your walls clenched around him, legs shaking. Yoongi followed moments later, burying himself deep and coming with a quiet, shuddering breath, filling you completely.
He stayed inside you for a long minute, arms wrapped around your waist, face pressed to your back.
Finally, he pulled out carefully, cleaning you both with a warm cloth from the side table. He didn’t speak much even then. Just pulled you into his arms on the small couch, holding you against his chest.
His fingers traced slow patterns on your bare skin—possessive, soothing. The silent jealousy had morphed into this: quiet intensity, the kind that wrapped around you like smoke.
“I hate it,” he said eventually, voice barely audible. “Seeing someone else flirt with you. Touch you. Makes me want to pull you away every single time. I know we can’t say anything yet. But you’re mine. In every way that matters.”
You turned in his arms, kissing his jaw. “I am yours, Yoongi. Always.”
He nodded once, eyes softening just a fraction. But the possessiveness lingered. His hand slid down to grip your thigh, pulling you closer. “Good. Because we still have time before soundcheck.”
His lips found yours again, slower this time, but no less hungry.
The second round was different—slower, face to face on the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he moved inside you with those same deep, claiming strokes. He kept his forehead against yours, eyes locked, forcing you to feel every emotion he rarely voiced.
When you came again, whispering his name like a prayer, he followed, spilling into you once more with a quiet curse.
Afterward, he held you tightly, pressing soft kisses to your temple. No dramatic declarations.
No over-the-top clinginess. Just Yoongi—silent, steady, and terrifyingly in love. The kind of love that didn’t need noise to be felt in your bones.
He helped you dress eventually, adjusting your clothes so the marks he left stayed hidden.
When you stepped back into the hallway, his expression had returned to that neutral calm. But his hand brushed your lower back one last time, a secret reminder.
The mood around him stayed shifted for the rest of the evening. Short answers. Watching eyes. And when anyone got too close to you again, that arm found your waist without a word.
Because Yoongi’s jealousy didn’t roar. It simply took what was his, quietly, completely, and left no room for doubt.
✧
✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤
Hoseok was sunshine personified—bright smiles, infectious laughter, and that endless energy that lit up every room he entered. But when jealousy crept in, especially over you, the person he was secretly, deeply in love with, that sunshine didn’t disappear. It just burned hotter, more focused, until it consumed everything else.
He tried so hard to play it cool, to keep things light and fun like always, because that was his role. The one who kept morale high. The one who made everyone feel at ease. But with you, his ult, his hidden heart, the mask slipped faster than he could catch it.
The backstage lounge was alive with pre-rehearsal chatter. Members stretched, stylists touched up makeup, and you were standing near the snack table talking to one of the new choreographers—a charismatic guy who’d been brought in for a fresh routine. He was funny, confident, and clearly drawn to your energy. He demonstrated a quick footwork move, laughing as you tried to copy it, his hand lightly steadying your waist for balance.
“See? You’ve got natural rhythm,” he said, eyes lingering a second too long. “We should practice together sometime. I could teach you a lot.”
Hoseok, who had been sipping water across the room while chatting with staff, felt the shift instantly. He forced a wide smile, the one that usually lit up stages worldwide, and sauntered over with his signature playful bounce. “Yah, what’s this? Stealing my favorite dance partner?” he teased, voice bright and sing-song.
But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. It tightened at the corners, turning a little sharp. His laugh when the choreographer joked back sounded forced, almost brittle.
He tried again, keeping it playful. “Careful, she might outshine you on stage if you teach her too well!” Another laugh, but it fell flat even to his own ears.
Deep down, it wasn’t funny. Not when this guy had his hand on your waist. Not when you were smiling at someone else the way Hoseok wanted you smiling at him in every stolen moment—those quiet van rides, late-night texts, and hidden hotel nights where he whispered how much he adored you. You were his secret, his everything, and watching someone else flirt so openly made his chest ache with a need he couldn’t voice publicly.
The choreographer chuckled and touched your arm again, leaning in to say something quieter. That was the breaking point. Hoseok’s playful facade crumbled in an instant. He moved smoothly but decisively, sliding right beside you. One arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side. His other hand found yours, fingers intertwining tightly.
He rested his chin on top of your head, nuzzling in just enough to make his claim crystal clear without words. The warmth of his body enveloped you, that familiar mix of cologne and stage energy that was so distinctly him.
“Actually,” Hoseok said, voice still light but edged with something deeper, “we have some partner work we need to go over. Right now.” His smile stayed plastered on for the choreographer, but his grip on you tightened. Everyone in the room could see it—you two were close. Very close.
The choreographer got the message, nodding awkwardly and stepping back with a quick excuse about checking the stage layout.
As soon as the guy was out of sight, Hoseok didn’t let go. If anything, he held you tighter. His arm around your shoulders became a full embrace, chin still on your head as he swayed you gently side to side like you were dancing to music only he could hear. “I hate that,” he murmured into your hair, voice dropping the playful tone. “I try to act cool, but seeing him touch you… it makes me want to pull you away and keep you all to myself. You’re my person. My favorite. I need everyone to know how close we are, even if we can’t tell them everything yet.”
He guided you down the hallway to his private dressing room, never once releasing your hand. The door closed behind you, and the lock clicked. In the quiet space, Hoseok’s energy shifted completely.
He turned to you, eyes soft but burning with that mix of love and jealousy. “You know you’re my ult, right? My everything. I can’t stand the thought of someone else thinking they can have even a piece of you.”
His hands cupped your face tenderly, thumbs brushing your cheeks, before he kissed you. It wasn’t rushed—it was deep, passionate, full of all the affection he poured into every performance. Hoseok kissed like he danced: with soul, with fire, with every part of himself.
His tongue moved against yours in perfect rhythm, drawing soft sounds from you that made him smile against your lips.
Clothes disappeared between heated kisses and wandering hands. He peeled your shirt off slowly, worshipping every inch of skin he revealed with his mouth. “So beautiful,” he whispered, voice husky.
His own shirt came off next, revealing his toned dancer’s body, lean muscle honed from years of powerful performances. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the wide couch.
Hoseok laid you down like you were precious, but his touches grew more urgent. He kissed down your neck, sucking gentle marks along your collarbone—marks only the two of you would see.
His hands explored your curves, squeezing your hips, tracing your thighs as he removed the rest of your clothes. When you were bare beneath him, he took a moment just to look, eyes full of adoration. “Mine,” he said softly, almost reverently. “All mine.”
He settled between your legs, mouth hot and eager as he tasted you. His tongue moved with expert precision—playful flicks on your clit mixed with deep, languid strokes that had you gripping his hair. Two fingers slid inside you, curling in that way he knew drove you crazy, matching the rhythm of his mouth. Hoseok moaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks through your body.
He looked up at you the whole time, eyes locked, making sure you felt exactly how much he needed this.
But he didn’t let you finish that way. He wanted to be closer. Needed it. Hoseok climbed back up, shedding the last of his clothes, his cock hard and flushed with need.
He rubbed the tip against your entrance, teasing just enough to make you whimper, before sliding in deep with one smooth thrust. The feeling of him filling you completely drew matching groans from both of you.
He started slow, rolling his hips in that fluid, dancer-like motion, grinding deep. One hand held yours above your head, fingers still intertwined, while the other caressed your face. “Look at me, baby,” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “I need you to see how much I love you. How crazy you make me.”
The pace built gradually, thrusts becoming more powerful, more possessive. Skin met skin with rhythmic slaps, the couch creaking softly beneath you. Hoseok’s usual playfulness returned in little ways—he nipped at your lip with a small smile, whispered silly-sweet things between moans—but the jealousy fueled an intensity that made everything hotter. He shifted you onto your side, lifting one leg over his shoulder so he could go even deeper, hitting that perfect spot with every stroke.
“You feel so good,” he panted, sweat glistening on his skin. “No one else gets this. No one else gets to hold you, touch you, love you like I do.” His free hand slipped between you, thumb circling your clit in tight, perfect patterns. The combination sent you spiraling fast.
When you came, it hit like a wave—walls clenching around him as you cried out his name. Hoseok followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a long, throaty moan, hips stuttering through the pleasure. He collapsed gently on top of you, careful not to crush you, arms wrapping around you in the tightest hug.
Even in the afterglow, the clinginess stayed. He pressed kisses all over your face—forehead, cheeks, nose, lips—while still inside you. “I’m sorry I got jealous,” he whispered, nuzzling your neck.
“But I can’t help it. You’re my ult, my sunshine, my reason for smiling even on hard days. I need the world to see how close we are, even if it’s just through little things like holding your hand or resting my chin on your head.”
He pulled out eventually, cleaning you both with gentle care before pulling you into his lap. The second round came naturally, slower and sweeter this time. You rode him on the couch, his hands guiding your hips as he looked up at you with pure adoration.
He sat up midway, arms around your waist in a full embrace, mouths meeting in messy kisses while he thrust up to meet you. More forehead kisses, more whispers of love, more of that special energy only Hoseok could bring.
Afterward, tangled together and breathing softly, he kept you close. Fingers tracing patterns on your back, chin resting on your head again. “Promise me something?” he asked quietly. “No matter who flirts or how hard we have to hide this… you’ll always come back to me like this.
Let me hold you, love you, remind you that you’re my favorite person in the entire universe.”
You smiled, kissing his jaw. “Always, Hobi. You’re my ult too.”
Hoseok’s bright laugh returned, genuine this time, as he hugged you tighter. The jealousy had faded, replaced by warmth and certainty.
He would go back out there soon with his playful energy, but everyone would still see it—that extra closeness, the way his arm found your shoulders so naturally, the protective glint in his eye. Because when it came to you, Hoseok didn’t just love quietly. He loved with his whole heart, his whole body, and everyone nearby would feel it.
✧
✧ 𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧
Jimin carried his heart in his eyes. That was what made his jealousy so devastating—not loud or possessive in a flashy way, but a quiet ache that turned those expressive eyes softer, almost glassy, like the light inside him had dimmed. He was deeply, secretly in love with you, the kind of love that bloomed in stolen glances during rehearsals and whispered confessions in the dark of hotel rooms.
You kept it hidden because the world demanded it, but that only made moments like this cut deeper. He wasn’t angry. He was hurt. The kind of hurt that made him question everything.
The waiting area backstage before the showcase was filled with the usual energy—stylists rushing with last-minute fixes, members warming up their voices, and low chatter bouncing off the walls. Jimin sat on a low couch, legs tucked under him gracefully, scrolling through his phone. But his attention wasn’t on the screen. It was on you, across the room, talking to one of the backup vocal coaches.
The guy was kind, experienced, and had a gentle way of speaking that clearly put you at ease. He laughed at something you said, leaning in slightly as he offered tips on a tricky harmony, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder in encouragement.
Jimin’s smile, the one he’d been holding for the staff earlier, faltered. His eyes softened, the usual sparkle dulling into something quieter, more vulnerable. He looked away for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek, but his gaze kept drifting back. Do they make you happier than I do? The thought crept in uninvited. Am I bothering you lately? Maybe I’ve been too clingy in our secret texts. Maybe you need someone who doesn’t have to hide. His fingers tightened around his phone, but outwardly, he stayed composed—almost too still, too quiet. The members noticed the shift; Jungkook asked if he was okay, and Jimin just nodded with a small, forced curve of his lips.
When the coach’s hand lingered on your arm a second longer while demonstrating a breathing technique, Jimin couldn’t stay seated. He stood gracefully, crossing the room without fanfare. No dramatic words, no tight smiles like Hoseok might use. Just a gentle touch—his hand slipping into yours, fingers intertwining as he tugged you lightly toward him. “Hey,” he said softly, voice barely above a murmur. “Can we talk for a minute?” His eyes met yours, pleading in that subtle way only you could read. The coach sensed the moment and stepped back with a polite nod.
Jimin led you down the hallway to his private dressing room, his hold on your hand never loosening. Once inside, with the door closed and the world locked out, the overthinking spilled quietly from him. He turned to you, eyes even softer now, almost misty. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead pulling it up to press against his chest so you could feel his heartbeat—steady but a little faster than usual.
“I saw you with him,” he whispered, voice gentle but laced with that hurt. “The way he made you laugh… it was nice. Really nice. Do they make you happier than I do? Be honest with me. I can take it, I think. But lately I keep wondering if I’m bothering you. If all these secret moments, the late calls when I can’t sleep, the way I always want you close… maybe it’s too much. Maybe you need space.”
His free hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, touch feather-light, as if afraid you might pull away. Those beautiful eyes searched yours, vulnerable and open in a way he rarely showed the world. Jimin melted when he felt loved, but right now, the jealousy had him unraveling in the softest, most heartbreaking way.
You reassured him immediately, cupping his face and telling him how much he meant to you—how no one compared, how his attention was your favorite thing. The words worked like magic. His shoulders relaxed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he leaned into your palm. “Really?” he breathed, voice cracking just a little. And then he melted completely, stepping closer until his body pressed against yours, arms wrapping around your waist in a needy embrace. “I need you,” he murmured against your neck. “Show me I’m still your favorite.”
The kiss started tender, almost hesitant, like he was afraid to ask for too much. But as you deepened it, pouring reassurance into every brush of lips and tongue, Jimin came alive. His hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer, fingers tracing the curve of your spine with familiar reverence. Clothes came off slowly, between soft kisses and whispered affirmations. He peeled your shirt away like unwrapping something precious, lips following the path of exposed skin—collarbone, shoulder, the dip between your breasts.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, eyes drinking you in. His own shirt slipped off, revealing the lean, sculpted lines of his dancer’s body, skin glowing under the warm lights. He lifted you onto the vanity table, stepping between your legs, hands gentle but sure on your thighs. “Tell me again,” he asked softly, forehead resting against yours. “That I’m the one you want.”
“You’re the only one, Jimin. Always.”
That was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, tongues sliding together as his hands explored. He cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peaked under his touch, drawing quiet gasps from you. Lower, his fingers trailed, slipping between your legs to find you already wet for him. Two slender fingers eased inside, curling slowly, perfectly, while his thumb brushed your clit in lazy circles. He watched your face the entire time, eyes soft and locked on yours, feeding on every moan like it was oxygen.
“Please,” you breathed, and he nodded, removing his fingers to free himself. His cock was hard, flushed, curving beautifully as he stroked it once before pressing against your entrance. He slid in slowly, savoring every inch, both of you sighing at the connection. Jimin’s hips rolled in fluid, graceful thrusts—deep and unhurried, like a dance only the two of you knew. One arm wrapped around your back, holding you close, while the other braced on the table.
“Feel me,” he whispered, voice husky with emotion. “I’m yours too. Completely.” His pace stayed tender at first, but reassurance turned the heat up. He buried his face in your neck, sucking soft marks as his thrusts grew firmer, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. You clung to his shoulders, nails lightly scratching his back, and he shivered in pleasure.
He pulled back to look at you again, eyes half-lidded but shining. “I was scared for a second… that maybe someone else could make you smile bigger. But this—us—it’s everything.” The vulnerability mixed with desire made it intensely intimate. He shifted you slightly, angling deeper, one hand slipping between you to rub your clit in time with his movements. The build was slow, overwhelming, until you came with a soft cry, clenching around him, pulling him over the edge too. Jimin moaned your name quietly, spilling deep inside you, hips stuttering as waves of pleasure washed over him.
He stayed inside you for a long moment, holding you tightly, foreheads pressed together as breaths mingled. Then the melting happened fully—soft kisses all over your face, gentle hands cleaning you both with a warm towel from the side counter. He carried you to the small couch, curling around you like a koala, legs tangled, arms secure around your waist. “Thank you,” he murmured, nuzzling your hair. “For always making me feel wanted. I get so scared sometimes that I’m not enough in all this hiding.”
“You’re more than enough,” you reassured him again, fingers carding through his hair. He practically purred at the touch, eyes closing in contentment.
The second round came naturally, slower and even more emotional. You straddled him on the couch, sinking down onto him inch by inch while he gazed up at you like you hung the stars. His hands guided your hips, but gently, letting you set the rhythm. Every roll of your body drew soft praises from him—“So good… you feel perfect… I love you like this.” He sat up midway, chest to chest, arms wrapped fully around you in a tight embrace as he thrust up to meet you. Mouths met in lazy, deep kisses, tongues dancing as pleasure built again. When you both came this time, it was together—whispers and shudders, bodies trembling in sync.
Afterward, Jimin kept you in his lap, tracing invisible patterns on your skin, chin resting on your shoulder. The hurt jealousy had dissolved into pure, warm affection. He was quiet again, but this time it was peaceful, content. “I don’t want to go back out there yet,” he admitted with a small smile. “Just a little longer like this. You make everything better.”
He would return to the others soon, eyes bright once more, that charming stage persona slipping back into place. But the secret marks on your skin, the way his hand would brush yours a little longer than necessary, and the soft glances only you understood—they would remind everyone, subtly, that his heart was already claimed. Jimin’s love was like that: not loud, but profound. And when reassured, he gave it back tenfold, melting completely into the person who made his world feel right.
✧
✧ 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠
Taehyung felt everything deeply. Love, joy, sadness — and especially jealousy. Out of all the members, no one burned with it quite like he did. You weren’t dating. Not officially. You had never put a label on whatever this was between you: stolen kisses in the studio after midnight, fingers brushing under tables, late-night talks where he called you his soulmate in that low, sincere voice of his. But the lack of a title didn’t stop the fierce possessiveness that surged through him every time someone else got too close to you. If anything, it made it worse. Because without a label, he had no real right to feel this way — yet he felt it all the same.
The green room before the soundcheck was lively. Members sprawled across couches, staff moved around with tablets and cables, and you were sitting on the arm of a chair talking to one of the new international staff members — a tall, friendly guy who had been helping with translations. He was charming in an easy way, laughing as he showed you something on his phone. Taehyung sat across the room, legs spread wide, wearing an oversized hoodie, but his usual boxy smile was nowhere to be found.
Instead, his dark eyes were locked on you. Brows slightly furrowed. Lips pressed into a straight line. He didn’t even realize how obvious it was until Jungkook nudged Jimin and both of them started smirking.
“Hyung, you’re staring again,” Jungkook teased quietly, loud enough for the others to hear. “Looking like someone kicked your puppy.”
Taehyung blinked, trying to school his expression into something neutral, but it was too late. The frown was already there, deep and sulky. His gaze flicked back to you immediately. The staff guy leaned closer to show you another video, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. Taehyung’s jaw tightened. That should be him. Sitting next to you. Making you laugh like that. Being the only one allowed in your space.
He stood up suddenly, long legs carrying him across the room without thinking. The members watched with knowing grins — they had seen this side of Taehyung more than once when it came to you.
“Hey,” he said, voice deep and a little rough as he stopped right beside you. He didn’t even acknowledge the staff member at first. His eyes were only on you. “Come sit with me instead.”
You looked up, catching the unmistakable sulk in his expression. The staff guy paused mid-sentence, suddenly aware of the heavy aura surrounding Taehyung.
“I was just—” you started, but Taehyung was already gently taking your hand, fingers wrapping around yours with quiet determination.
“Please?” he added, softer this time, but the jealousy was written all over his face. Big brown eyes, slight pout, shoulders a little hunched like the weight of watching you with someone else actually hurt him physically. The staff member cleared his throat awkwardly and found an excuse to leave.
The second you let Taehyung pull you over to the couch and sit beside him, his entire mood shifted. The frown melted away. That beautiful boxy smile broke across his face like sunshine after rain. He immediately draped one long arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side, chin resting lightly on your head. Soulmate behavior. Like the universe had clicked back into place now that you were close again.
“Much better,” he murmured happily, voice low enough for only you to hear. His fingers played with the sleeve of your shirt, absentmindedly tracing patterns. The members exchanged amused looks but didn’t comment further.
But the jealousy hadn’t disappeared. It had simply been redirected into need.
A little while later, when the room cleared out slightly, Taehyung leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “Come with me for a minute.” No room for argument. He took your hand again and led you to his private dressing room, locking the door behind you with a soft click.
The moment you were alone, the intensity returned. He backed you against the wall, hands framing your face as he stared down at you with those soulful eyes.
“I hate it,” he confessed, voice husky. “I know we’re not… official. But seeing him next to you, making you laugh, touching your chair like that — it drives me crazy. You’re mine in here.” He pressed a hand over his own heart. “You feel like my soulmate. Even if we haven’t said the words yet. I get so jealous I can’t hide it.”
His kiss was deep and consuming, the kind only Taehyung could give — passionate, emotional, like he was pouring his entire soul into it. Tongues moved slowly, tasting, claiming. His large hands slid down your body, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him so you could feel how hard he already was.
Clothes came off with urgent but reverent touches. He peeled your shirt away, kissing every inch of skin he revealed, whispering how beautiful you were, how no one else should ever get to stand that close to you. When he removed his own hoodie and shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and toned chest, you couldn’t help but run your hands over him. He shivered under your touch.
Taehyung lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and laying you down. He hovered over you, eyes never leaving yours as he removed the rest of your clothes. “So perfect,” he breathed, kissing down your stomach until he reached your core. He took his time, tongue moving in slow, sensual strokes, savoring you like fine wine. Two long fingers pushed inside you, curling gently while his mouth focused on your clit. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending pleasure shooting through your body.
But he didn’t let you finish there. He needed to be closer.
Rising up, he freed himself, thick and flushed, and rubbed the tip against your entrance. “Look at me,” he whispered. The eye contact was intense as he pushed in slowly, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried deep. Both of you groaned at the feeling.
His thrusts started deep and rhythmic, hips rolling in that smooth, artistic way of his. One hand held yours above your head, fingers intertwined, while the other cradled the back of your neck so he could keep kissing you. “You’re mine,” he panted between kisses, even though you weren’t officially. “Even if the world doesn’t know yet. Tell me you feel it too.”
“I feel it, Tae. Only you.”
That reassurance made him melt and burn at the same time. His pace picked up, thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. The jealousy that had been simmering all afternoon poured out in every movement — possessive but full of love. He shifted you so your legs wrapped higher around his waist, going deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars.
When you came, clenching tightly around him and moaning his name, Taehyung followed right after, burying his face in your neck as he spilled deep inside you with a low, broken groan. His body trembled against yours, arms wrapping around you tightly like he never wanted to let go.
Even after, the clinginess stayed. He cleaned you gently, then pulled you into his lap, arms locked around your waist, chin on your shoulder. “I know I get too jealous,” he admitted quietly, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “But I can’t help it. You’re my person. My soulmate. Watching someone else get your attention feels like losing a piece of myself.”
You stayed like that for a while, his hands gently stroking your back, mood completely bright again now that he had you all to himself. When desire built once more, the second round was slower, more intimate. You rode him on the couch, his hands guiding your hips while he looked up at you with pure adoration. He sat up to kiss you deeply, chest to chest, whispering sweet nothings and jealous little confessions between moans.
By the time you both finished again, you were tangled together, breathing softly. Taehyung kept you close, refusing to let go just yet. “Stay with me a little longer,” he murmured, voice warm. “I need more of this. More of you.”
He would go back out there soon with that signature boxy smile, acting like nothing happened. But everyone would notice how his eyes followed you, how he found excuses to sit next to you, how his hand always seemed to find yours when no one was looking too closely. Because Taehyung’s jealousy wasn’t subtle — it was obvious, deep, and rooted in a love so strong it didn’t need a label to feel real.
He was the most jealous for a reason. You were his soulmate. And he would keep reminding you — and everyone else — of that fact, one stolen moment at a time.
✧
✧ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤
Jungkook tried so hard not to care. He really did. He told himself a thousand times that you weren’t officially his, that the secret moments you shared—late-night gym sessions where he’d spot you, quiet studio cuddles, and stolen kisses behind closed doors—didn’t give him the right to feel possessive. But he cared the most. Out of everyone, no one’s heart twisted quite like his when someone else flirted with you. It made his ears burn red, his usual bright energy go quiet, and his big doe eyes stay glued to you like you were the only thing in the room.
The backstage lounge before the final rehearsal was buzzing. Members were scattered around, some playing games on their phones, others stretching or chatting with staff. Jungkook sat on the floor against the couch, pretending to scroll through his camera roll, but his attention was locked across the room where you stood talking to one of the young backup dancers. The guy was energetic, funny, and clearly interested. He kept leaning in, demonstrating a move and laughing when you tried it, his hand brushing your arm more than once.
Jungkook’s ears turned pink, then bright red. He pressed his lips together, trying to look unbothered, but his eyes never left you. That should be me,his brain repeated like a mantra. Making you laugh. Touching your arm. Standing that close. He stayed silent, jaw tight, fingers gripping his phone a little too hard. The members noticed. Jimin nudged Taehyung with a smirk, whispering something that made them both glance at Jungkook’s obvious struggle.
When the dancer stepped even closer, placing a hand on your waist to “correct your posture” while showing another step, Jungkook couldn’t stay back anymore. He stood up, ears still flaming, and crossed the room with that effortless athletic grace. Without a word, he slid right beside you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you gently but firmly into his chest.
His other hand found yours, fingers intertwining tightly. To everyone else, he acted completely normal—casual smile, soft “hey” like he was just joining the conversation—but his body told a different story. His thumb stroked the back of your hand, and his fingers rested possessively on your waist, right where the other guy’s hand had been.
The dancer got the hint quickly, mumbling something about warming up and backing away. Jungkook’s ears were still red as he kept you pressed against him, chin resting lightly on top of your head for a second before he pulled back just enough to look normal. But inside? His brain was a mess of cute, jealous thoughts. Mine. Should be me. Only me
A few minutes later, when the room thinned out, he leaned down, voice low and a little shy. “Come with me?” He didn’t wait for a full answer, just gently tugged you toward his private dressing room, hand still holding yours the entire way. The second the door closed and locked, the shy act cracked open.
Jungkook turned to you, ears still tinged pink, big eyes soft and vulnerable. “I know I’m not supposed to care this much,” he admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not even… you know. But seeing him touch you like that? It makes me crazy. That should be me. Only me.”
His jealousy was the cutest thing in the world—those wide eyes, the way he tried so hard to play it cool but failed adorably, the soft pout forming on his lips. You smiled and stepped closer, cupping his face. The reassurance made him melt instantly. Jungkook leaned into your touch like a puppy, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he pulled you into a tight hug, arms wrapping fully around you.
The kiss started sweet, almost shy, but quickly deepened with all the pent-up emotion. Jungkook kissed like he did everything else—with full commitment and passion. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against his strong body as his tongue moved against yours. He walked you backward until your legs hit the couch, then gently laid you down, hovering over you with those sparkling eyes.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, voice husky but still carrying that adorable nervousness. He helped you out of your shirt, then removed his own, revealing the sculpted muscles he worked so hard for. His hands were gentle as he explored your body, kissing down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower, sucking soft marks that made you shiver. When he reached your waistband, he looked up at you for permission, ears still faintly red.
Once you were both bare, Jungkook settled between your legs, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs before his tongue found your core. He was eager and attentive, licking and sucking with focused dedication, two fingers sliding inside you and curling just right. He moaned softly against you, the vibrations making your back arch. His free hand reached up to hold yours, fingers intertwined again—like even here, he needed that connection.
But he didn’t let you finish that way. He wanted to be closer. Jungkook climbed back up, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his lips. He stroked himself a few times, then lined up and pushed in slowly, groaning your name as he sank deep. The stretch was perfect, his thickness filling you completely. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing shakily.
“That should be me,” he whispered again, almost like he couldn’t help it. “Only me touching you. Only me making you feel good.”
His thrusts started deep and steady, hips rolling with that powerful athletic control. One hand stayed laced with yours above your head while the other gripped your thigh, holding you open for him. Jungkook’s jealousy melted into the sweetest, most intense lovemaking—every movement full of adoration and quiet possessiveness. He buried his face in your neck, kissing and nibbling as his pace gradually quickened.
“You feel so good,” he panted, voice adorably breathy. “So tight… so perfect. I get so jealous because I like you so much. Like… really like you.”
The confession made your heart flutter. You pulled him closer, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Jungkook’s thrusts grew faster, deeper, hitting that spot inside you repeatedly until you were moaning his name. His hand slipped between you, thumb rubbing your clit in perfect circles. When you came, clenching hard around him and trembling, he followed right after with a cute, broken moan, burying himself deep and filling you with warm spurts.
He collapsed gently on top of you, careful not to crush you, arms wrapping around your body in the tightest hug. His ears were still pink as he nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses everywhere he could reach. “Sorry if I was too obvious out there,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “I tried not to care… but I care so much. You’re my favorite person.”
The aftercare was pure Jungkook—sweet and attentive. He cleaned you both carefully with a warm towel, then pulled you into his lap on the couch, arms locked around you like he never wanted to let go. He kept playing with your fingers, intertwining them over and over, chin resting on your shoulder.
The second round came naturally, slower and even cuter. You straddled him, sinking down onto his cock while he looked up at you with those big, sparkling eyes full of affection. His hands guided your hips gently, but he let you set the pace, whispering praises and little jealous confessions between kisses. “No one else gets to hold you like this… only me, right?” He sat up halfway, chest pressed to yours in a warm embrace, thrusting up to meet you as you rode him.
The closeness made everything more intense. When you both came again, it was with soft moans and foreheads pressed together, bodies trembling in sync.
Afterward, Jungkook refused to let you move, cuddling you tightly against his chest, one hand stroking your hair. His jealousy had turned into the fluffiest, warmest afterglow. “Can we stay like this a little longer?” he asked, voice shy but hopeful. “I just… I like having you close. Makes me feel better.”
He would go back out there soon, acting cool with that signature Jungkook confidence, but everyone would notice the little things: how his hand always found yours, how his eyes followed you protectively, how his ears turned pink whenever someone got too friendly. Because when Jungkook got jealous, it wasn’t scary or dramatic—it was the cutest thing in the world.
A big, strong guy reduced to blushing ears and needy hugs, all because he cared the most.
SYNOPSIS: After moving into a new apartment, Y/N hopes for a quiet start until she meets her neighbors, a couple living next door. Jungkook, the husband, is everything she shouldn't want: kind, gentle, and already taken. Yet their paths keep crossing, drawing her into a connection she tries to deny.
GENRE: Forbidden Romance | Slow burn Obsession | Toxic | Manipulation
WC: 22.3k
You had just moved into the new apartment small, quiet, and perfectly close to your university. The morning sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, washing over the boxes still waiting to be unpacked. It felt peaceful here, safe even. The kind of place where no one knew who you were or what you'd left behind.
Your neighbors were kind surprisingly kind. The old lady two doors down always brought you something warm to eat, her hands smelling faintly of jasmine and soap. She'd ask about your classes, your part-time job, and remind you to rest more. You liked her voice, soft and familiar, the way she made you feel seen in a city full of strangers.
And then there was him.
The man next door.
Jeon Jungkook.
You still remember the first day how he appeared out of nowhere when you were struggling with the heavy boxes, his sleeves rolled up, smile effortless. "Let me help you," he'd said, and before you could argue, he was already carrying half your things inside. You didn't even notice how your heart stuttered then maybe you did, but you told yourself it was just gratitude.
He was married. A husband. A father.
And yet, there was something about him that felt different from the rest maybe the way his voice softened when he spoke to his daughter, or how he always greeted you with a polite smile that lingered a second too long. His daughter, Hana, was adorable curious, bright, and too comfortable wandering into your apartment. Sometimes she'd sit on your floor, crayons scattered everywhere, while you watched her, pretending to study but stealing glances at the door. Waiting, maybe, for him to come pick her up.
On weekends, you'd share donuts or ice cream with her, listening to her innocent chatter about school, her mom, and how her dad made the best pancakes. You smiled every time she mentioned him even when you didn't mean to.
Jungkook often returned the gesture, sending over food or desserts his wife prepared. You thanked him each time, your fingers brushing his when you took the plate, your voice softer than usual. His wife was rarely around busy, devoted to her work, someone you only saw in glimpses. You respected her, you really did. But sometimes you wondered what it would feel like to have what she had.
It wasn't love. You told yourself that often. It was just admiration. Just curiosity.
But your heart had already begun memorizing the rhythm of his footsteps in the hallway and you hated how much you noticed when they stopped in front of your door.
------
You were standing just outside your apartment, staring at the dull light that had long since given up on your living room. The evening air was cool against your skin, brushing softly as if nudging you to hurry. You hadn't expected anyone to be around, yet your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.
It was Jungkook. Just back from work, his shirt slightly creased from the day, hair still a little tousled, the faint scent of cologne mingling with the evening breeze. You watched him from the corner of your eye as he carried himself effortlessly, the ease in his stride making him seem larger than life.
"Hey," he greeted, a small smile tugging at his lips as he noticed you standing there. "What are you doing out here?" His voice had that calm, low quality that somehow made the mundane feel significant.
You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should admit the triviality of your errand. "I... I came out to get a bulb," you said, gesturing vaguely to the darkened interior behind you. "The one in my living room stopped working."
He raised an eyebrow, a faint amusement flickering in his eyes. "Really?" Then, before you could respond, he added, "I actually have an extra at my place. You can take it if you want."
You blinked, slightly taken aback by his offer, but nodded quickly. When he handed you the bulb, your fingers brushed for the briefest moment, and you felt a curious jolt, a warmth that made your chest tighten just slightly.
"Do you... need help putting it in?" he asked, watching you carefully. His tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of concern, like he could see the hesitation in your movements even before you realized it.
Without thinking, without really analyzing why, you found yourself saying, "Yes." The word escaped your lips almost involuntarily. Of course you did you couldn't possibly reach that high. You told yourself it was purely practical, that it was simply the height that made it necessary to ask for help. But deep down, there was something else: a secret thrill in having him close, his presence so near, his tall frame bending slightly to reach the ceiling alongside you.
Jungkook moved with quiet precision, adjusting the bulb and securing it into place. Every motion was fluid, practiced, but to you, it felt mesmerizing. You found yourself unable to look away, your eyes tracing the line of his arms, the way his fingers gripped the bulb, the slight tension in his shoulders as he worked. You told yourself you were just observing practical, surely but a small, unacknowledged part of you felt captivated.
Finally, he stepped down from the stool, brushing his hands lightly against his thighs. He turned to you, a soft, effortless smile tugging at his lips. "All done," he said, his voice calm but warm, carrying that quiet assurance that always seemed to draw you in.
You blinked, momentarily dazed, and murmured, "Th... thank you." Your words felt insufficient, almost clumsy, compared to the simple perfection of his presence.
Your gaze lingered on him as he straightened his office clothes, the neatness of his shirt and the slight crease of his trousers contrasting with the casual ease of how he just fixed the bulb. He had come straight from work, and here he was, helping you without complaint. The thought made your chest tighten in a way you didn't quite understand.
"Are you... sure you don't need anything? I mean, I'm sorry... you just came from work, and I... I took your help when you probably needed to rest," you said, your words tumbling out in a mix of concern and something closer to fascination.
Jungkook's smile widened just a fraction, easy and reassuring. "It's fine," he said simply, shrugging as if the effort had been nothing.
You hesitated, then offered, almost reflexively, "Would you like something to eat? I can make something-"
He shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. "No, my wife just made kimchi fried rice with fried chicken," he said, his tone light but the mention of his wife striking a tiny pang in your chest you didn't acknowledge. "But I'll bring some fried chicken for you too," he added, smiling as he made his way to the door.
You watched him leave, standing frozen for a moment, the faint scent of him lingering in the apartment. There was a strange mix of admiration and something deeper you couldn't yet name, a pull you didn't fully recognize. Your fingers absentmindedly brushed against the countertop where he had stood, and you caught yourself staring after him a little longer than necessary, heart quietly stirring at the thought that he had come, just for you, to fix something as simple as a lightbulb.
You shook your head slightly, almost laughing at yourself. "It's just a bulb," you whispered, but your gaze stayed on the door a moment longer, lingering on the space where he had been.
-------
It was a quiet weekend afternoon, the sunlight streaming softly through the curtains of your apartment. The usual calm of your space was now punctuated by little giggles and the soft clatter of plastic as Hana settled herself on the carpet with her Barbie dolls.
"I'm bored," Hana announced dramatically, plopping herself down beside you. "Mama had work to do and didn't want to play with me. So... I came to play with you!"
You smiled, watching her energetically arrange the tiny outfits and accessories for her dolls. There was something endearing in the seriousness with which she treated her tiny world, as if each piece mattered immensely.
You leaned over slightly, watching her busy hands and the concentration furrowing her little brow. "You look so much like your daddy," you said softly, a playful lilt in your voice.
Hana paused, eyes widening briefly before she shook her head emphatically, returning her attention to her Barbie. "Nooo! I look like mama. I want to look like mama," she said, carefully adjusting a doll's dress as if it were a matter of utmost importance.
You raised an eyebrow, curious. "Why?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, genuinely intrigued by her reasoning.
Her face lit up in a proud, mischievous grin. "Dada likes mama," she said, speaking with the innocent certainty only a child could have. "She's beautiful. She's the most beautiful woman in the world. That's what dada said. I want to be like mama too... the most beautiful woman in the world," she added, letting out a small, giggling squeal as she twirled one of the dolls around.
You couldn't help it her words, so matter-of-fact and earnest, made you roll your eyes with a mixture of amusement and affection, though a faint warmth crept up your chest. "Hana," you said gently, reaching over to ruffle her hair, "you're already the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."
Her eyes lit up instantly, a small gasp of delight escaping her lips. "Really? Thank you, Y/nie! You're pretty too!" she exclaimed, her giggle infectious as she went back to fussing over her doll.
You laughed softly, shaking your head at her adorable seriousness, and found yourself caught in the moment a quiet, happy bubble of laughter, innocence, and warmth, the kind only children like Hana could bring into a room. Watching her, you realized that beauty wasn't just about appearances; it was in moments like these, in giggles, in admiration freely given, in tiny hands clutching a plastic doll as if it were a crown.
You paused for a moment, setting down the Barbie you'd just been helping Hana dress. The living room was quiet except for the soft rustle of plastic as she arranged her dolls, but your mind was elsewhere. Normally, weekends were Jungkook's time he dedicated to Hana, playing with her, taking her out, or just being present. Yet today, the apartment felt slightly different, almost empty without him.
Curiosity tugged at you, and you leaned slightly closer to Hana, tilting your head in a gentle, casual way as if the question were just passing conversation. "Hana... where's your dad?" you asked softly, careful to keep your tone light, though inside, a small flicker of concern or perhaps curiosity stirred.
Hana didn't look up immediately, focused intently on making sure her Barbie's hair matched the tiny plastic brush in her hand. After a moment, she looked up, her face lighting with a small, innocent smile. "He went out with Tae uncle," she said cheerfully, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
You blinked, slightly taken aback. Tae uncle? That name didn't ring any bells. You nodded slowly, trying to process it, curiosity blooming in your chest. Who was this Tae uncle? Was it someone from work? A friend? Somehow, it made your mind wander wondering why Jungkook wasn't home today, and yet, hearing Hana's carefree voice, you felt a twinge of unease you couldn't quite place.
You forced yourself to smile, ruffling her hair gently. "Oh... I see," you said, trying to keep your tone casual while your thoughts quietly lingered on Jungkook. Even in his absence, he seemed to have left an imprint, a presence that lingered in her words, in her mention of him.
-------
You were walking down the quiet street with Jimin, the evening breeze gently brushing against your face. The two of you had left work together, as usual, and Jimin had once again offered to walk you home. It had become a comforting routine, something you didn't think much about until moments like this made your chest feel a little warmer than necessary.
Holding your hand lightly, Jimin glanced down at the contrast between his palm and yours. "They're so small," he said with a soft chuckle, fingers squeezing yours gently as if testing the reality of it.
You immediately pulled your hand away, pretending to be annoyed. "Yah! Your hand is small too!" you snapped, though the playful tone betrayed your smile. Jimin only laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes as you reached your apartment building.
As you stopped at the entrance, Jimin leaned slightly closer, his expression suddenly tender. "I'll miss you," he said, giving you those puppy eyes that always had a way of making your heart flutter.
"Stop with that face," you said, though your voice lacked conviction, your cheeks betraying the faint warmth creeping over them.
"Bye bye, I'm going," he said, moving to leave but before you could react, Jimin pulled you gently toward him and pressed a quick, playful kiss to your cheek.
You froze, stunned for a brief moment, fingers instinctively hitting his shoulder. "Yah! What was that?!" you exclaimed, half-scolding, half-laughing.
Jimin just grinned, brushing it off with a casual wave. "Bye!" he said before jogging away, the corners of his lips curved in that infuriatingly charming smile of his.
Then a voice broke through your daze. "Awww, that was so cute."
You turned sharply, your annoyance immediately flaring. Min-seo, Jungkook's wife, was standing there with that familiar bright smile. Behind her, Jungkook appeared, tall and composed as always, walking beside her.
"Is he your boyfriend? You both look cute together," Min-seo said, her tone teasing. She looked at you like she expected a flustered answer.
You blinked at her, a flicker of irritation in your chest. "He- He's not my boyfriend," you said quickly, voice tight as your gaze drifted instinctively to Jungkook, standing silently beside her.
Min-seo only smiled wider, leaning slightly toward him. "Ah, come on! I remember being shy at the beginning too," she said, her words directed at you, but it felt like a jab.
Your hands curled slightly at your sides as you forced yourself to stay calm. "I- I should get going," you muttered, turning sharply and walking away, your steps faster than necessary, each one a silent protest against the little spark of annoyance Min-seo had ignited.
Behind you, Min-seo whispered under her breath, "I guess she's shy."
Jungkook, however, didn't speak. He simply watched you leave, his expression unreadable, and something in that quiet intensity made your chest tighten in a way you didn't fully understand. You didn't notice, but your lowkey fixation on him tugged at you as you disappeared into your apartment, irritation and something unacknowledged swirling together in your mind.
--------
The knock on your door pulled you from a blissful sleep, one of those rare mornings where your dreams felt warm and endless. Groaning, you buried your face deeper into your pillow, cursing whoever had dared disturb the perfect rhythm of your rest. Another knock came, sharper this time, jolting you upright.
Dragging yourself out of bed, hair a tangled mess and eyes half-closed, you shuffled to the door and opened it only to be greeted by a face that made your grogginess instantly collide with awareness. Jungkook. Handsome, annoyingly so, yet impossibly cute with that soft, bunny-like smile.
Why did someone have to be both handsome and adorable at the same time? you thought, blinking at him in disbelief.
"I'm sorry... did I just wake you up?" His voice was soft, genuinely concerned, and your stomach twisted. Shit. He'd seen you like this hair sticking out, eyes half-open, face probably bloated from sleep. You were sure you looked absolutely horrendous.
You froze for a moment, debating your options: slam the door and flee, or accept your fate and face him head-on.
"No- I just... yeah, I was sleeping," you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, eyes darting down. Your brain betrayed you, and panic flared in a small, irrational wave. Did your breath stink? You couldn't remember brushing before bed... You hoped to God it hadn't.
Jungkook chuckled softly, a sound that somehow made your heart race and your embarrassment multiply.
"May I come in?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, the soft curve of his smile making your resolve weaken.
Straightening your posture, you hesitated, glancing at the mess behind you. Living room in chaos, dishes half-washed, clothes scattered... if he came in, he'd definitely judge you. Maybe even laugh at how... pathetic you looked right now.
"Y/N?" he called again, patience laced in his tone.
"Oh, yeah... sure..." you stammered, stepping aside as he entered. As soon as he did, his eyes swept across your apartment, noting the small disarray without judgment.
"Looks like you didn't have time to clean your room," he commented casually.
"I was just... too lazy," you mumbled, embarrassed yet trying to laugh it off.
"No... I get it. I know you've been tired," he said, that smile softening as he looked at you. "Managing uni and your part-time... it's difficult."
Your chest warmed at his words, the way he noticed things without needing them spelled out. Then, as if on cue, he held out a small plate. "I just made pancakes, and Hana helped. She wanted me to give them to you."
"Oh my God... that's so sweet of you both. Thank you!" You felt your cheeks heat up, suddenly aware of his presence so close, and the way he moved effortlessly through your apartment as though it were familiar. Jungkook placed the plate on your counter with a gentle smile, glancing around the clutter with an ease that didn't make you feel judged but only slightly self-conscious.
"Do you want me to help with cleaning?" he asked, tilting his head as his eyes swept the living room.
"Oh no, it's fine. I can do it," you said, forcing a small smile, though the exhaustion still clung to your movements. "You should go... I'm sure you have things to do."
Jungkook nodded, his smile warm but unreadable, before making his way toward the door. As soon as the click of the closing door echoed, you bolted to your bedroom, heart pounding.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, cheeks burning, hair sticking out in every direction. Shorts, an oversized shirt, no bra and Jungkook had just seen you like this. Your mind spiraled, imagining every possible thought he could have had, every little judgment you were sure he silently passed. You looked homeless. Messy. Embarrassingly real.
-------
It was a bright, breezy afternoon, the sun warm but not too harsh, and you were scrolling lazily on your phone when a familiar voice broke your quiet.
"Y/N! Wanna come out with us? Hana wants to go to the park," Jungkook called cheerfully from the doorway, Hana tugging at his hand with her usual excitement.
You blinked, sitting up. Your schedule was free, nothing planned, and honestly... the idea of spending time with Jungkook and Hana sounded pleasant. You smiled softly. "Yeah... I can go. Sounds fun."
Hana squealed immediately, clapping her little hands. "Yay! Let's go, Y/nie!" She bounced on her toes as Jungkook chuckled, picking up her little backpack and holding the door open for you.
The park was lively but not crowded. Children's laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves in the gentle wind. Hana immediately ran toward the playground, her giggles ringing out as she climbed the slide and swung herself on the swings. You followed behind, Jungkook walking beside you casually, his presence calm, familiar, yet somehow magnetic.
"Do you want to get ice cream?" he asked as Hana tugged at his hand again, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Sure!" you said, smiling, as he led the way to the small ice cream stand near the fountain. Hana jumped in front, pointing to a bright pink cone. "I want strawberry!"
Jungkook laughed, ruffling her hair lightly before handing her the ice cream. "Good choice," he said. Then he turned to you with that gentle smile. "What about you?"
You felt your pulse quicken, suddenly aware of the warm afternoon sun and the soft shadow of his presence beside you. "Chocolate... please," you murmured.
He bought both cones, handing yours over carefully. "Here, careful with the mess," he said, his voice calm and kind. Hana immediately took a big bite, sticky pink ice cream smudging the corners of her mouth, and you found yourself chuckling at how adorably earnest she was.
You brought your cone closer to your lips but couldn't resist sneaking glances at Jungkook as he helped Hana sit on a bench, wiping her hands carefully with a napkin. You noticed a small smear of ice cream near the corner of his lips and your heart skipped.
"Y/N, why are you staring?" His voice was casual, but the teasing edge made your pulse hammer.
You blushed, fumbling slightly. "Uh... you've got ice cream... right here," you said, pointing near the side of his lips.
Jungkook glanced down, trying to lick it off himself, but he couldn't quite reach the corner. "Huh... I can't get it," he muttered.
Before you could stop yourself, you reached forward with a finger, brushing it gently against the ice cream. "Here... I can help," you said softly, leaning just a little closer. His warm scent reached you, making your chest flutter. Carefully, you wiped the corner of his lips, your fingers lingering slightly more than necessary.
Without thinking, your finger brushed your own lips subtly as you licked it clean, hoping he didn't notice. Your heart raced, every simple motion magnified in significance, every smile of his sending a quiet thrill through you.
Hana, meanwhile, was oblivious to the tension, giggling as she squished the ice cream between her tiny fingers. "Y/nie, look! I made a snowman with my ice cream!" she exclaimed, holding up her sticky creation proudly.
Jungkook chuckled, crouching slightly to Hana's level. "That's amazing, Hana. You're so creative!" He gently tapped her little nose with a bit of the ice cream, making her squeal in delight.
You watched him interact with her, his calm patience and warmth pulling you in further. You found yourself unconsciously leaning a little closer when he laughed, your eyes lingering on his lips a moment too long, your chest tightening in a way that both thrilled and terrified you.
Hana squealed again, pointing at a squirrel scampering nearby, and Jungkook's attention immediately shifted to her, scooping her up gently as she wriggled happily in his arms. You stood there, ice cream forgotten for a moment, silently aware of how much you wanted to be nearer to him, to share those small, ordinary moments, even as he simply smiled and laughed at Hana's antics, entirely unaware of your feelings simmering quietly.
The afternoon stretched lazily, filled with laughter, sticky fingers, and the warmth of the sun and something unspoken, delicate, and growing between you and Jungkook, though he remained simply kind, friendly, and completely unaware of the silent pull you felt.
--------
You stood there, heart pounding so loud it almost drowned out your thoughts. The air between you and Jungkook felt heavy thick with the weight of all the things you'd been holding back for too long. He looked at you with that same calm, kind expression he always had, unaware that every glance, every word, every smile had slowly consumed you.
"Mr. Jeon," you began, voice trembling slightly, "I've been feeling something for the past few days... no, longer than that. From the moment I met you, I-" you paused, breath hitching, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."
Jungkook blinked, his brows furrowing as if he didn't quite hear it right. "What?" he asked, his tone sharp, startled.
"I know this is wrong," you whispered, trying to steady your voice, "but I love you. I really love you."
There was silence. His eyes widened, disbelief flashing through them. "Do you even know what you're saying, Y/N?" he said finally, his voice firm, but you could tell he was trying to stay calm.
"I do. I know exactly what I'm saying," you replied, stepping closer, trying to meet his eyes. "I love you."
He took a step back, his breath leaving him in a rush. "Y/N... I'm married. I have a family. You can't-" he stopped, his voice breaking slightly before it hardened again. "This is wrong. Completely wrong."
But your heart was louder than reason. "I know, but I can't help it!" you pleaded, eyes glossy. "I can take care of your daughter; I can even be your second wife if that's what it takes. I'm not asking you to leave your family. I just want a place in your heart. Please, Jungkook..."
Your voice cracked at the end as you reached for his hand, but he pulled away as if your touch burned him.
He stared at you, disbelief and anger flickering in his gaze. "You've lost your mind," he said under his breath, voice filled with something you couldn't bear to hear disgust. "I never thought you'd be capable of something like this."
"Jungkook, please-"
"No." His tone was final this time. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply. "I treated you with kindness, Y/N, but I never gave you any reason to feel this way. You've crossed a line." You could barely breathe. You wanted to reach out, to make him understand that your feelings were real, but before you could say another word, he turned his back to you.
"Jungkook, please don't go" you whispered, tears threatening to fall.
-------
"NO!" you scream, bolting upright in bed. The echo of your own voice bounces off the walls, your chest heaving as the remnants of the dream cling to your skin like a second layer. For a moment, you can't tell where you are, the thin veil between dream and reality still trembling. Your sheets are tangled around your legs, your palms damp, and your forehead slick with sweat. The air feels heavy, too still, as if the world itself has stopped to watch you crumble in confusion.
You bring a trembling hand to your lips, heart pounding. Did I really dream that?
Confessing to Jungkook, him? your neighbor of all people. The same Jungkook whose laughter drifts through the thin walls of your apartment when he plays with his daughter. The same man whose gentle voice always seems too kind, too warm.
You press your face into your hands, mortified. "God... what's wrong with me?" you whisper. The dream replays in flashes. Jungkook is married.
He has a wife who waits for him every evening, a daughter who calls his name with pure joy. You shouldn't even think about him that way. It's wrong, you know it's wrong yet your chest aches with something you can't name, something that feels dangerously close to longing.
You throw the blanket aside and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. The morning light creeps through the curtains, faint and indifferent, brushing across your face as if mocking you for what your mind dared to conjure. You force yourself to breathe, to move, to forget.
"This is ridiculous," you mutter, stumbling toward the bathroom. The cold water hits your face, shocking you back to reality. You stare at your reflection in the mirror eyes wide, hair sticking to your temples and try to see the person who had that dream. But all you see is someone caught between guilt and something unspoken.
You need to stop this.
You make up your mind right then, you'll avoid him. No more helping his daughter with her drawings, no more lingering conversations at the gate, no more smiles that last a second too long. Whatever this strange feeling is, you'll bury it deep, where it can't find you again.
With a sigh, you grab your bag and step out the door, the morning breeze brushing against your skin like a quiet reminder. You have university to attend, a life to live and Jungkook to forget.
-------
You have been trying to focus on university, on work, on anything that doesn't have Jungkook's name attached to it. Your days have become a blur of lectures, deadlines, and late-night study sessions, all serving one purpose distraction. The door that was once always open for Hana, his bright-eyed daughter who used to run into your living room with her toys, now stays firmly shut.
Every time you hear her small knocks and that sweet little voice calling, "Unnie, can I come in?" your heart twists painfully. You'd force yourself to answer through the door, keeping your tone light, "I'm a bit busy right now, Hana. Maybe later, okay?"
And then silence followed by the sound of her tiny footsteps retreating down the hall.
You hate it. You hate how avoiding them feels like cutting off a piece of warmth from your life. But what choice do you have? Each time you see Jungkook his kind smile, the way he waves when you pass by, or that soft tone he uses when thanking you for helping Hana, you feel that uncomfortable pull inside your chest again.
You promised yourself, You won't fall for him.
So you hide behind excuses. Behind your books. Behind work.
Even when Jungkook knocks on your door in the evenings, holding a small box of sweets or a neatly packed dinner, you freeze in place. Sometimes, you wait in silence until the sound of his footsteps fade. And when you finally gather the courage to peek through the peephole, he's already gone leaving behind the food on your doorstep with a folded note.
"You've been working hard again, haven't you? Please don't skip dinner." - Jungkook
You stand there, the warmth from the neatly wrapped container seeping into your palms as you hold it, your chest tightening with guilt and something else you refuse to name. You don't even have the strength to return the gesture anymore.
Days pass this way him leaving food, Hana waving from a distance, you pretending not to see. It's as if you're watching your own life from behind a glass wall safe, detached, and unbearably lonely.
But even in your efforts to keep him away, Jungkook's presence lingers in the faint smell of his cooking that drifts through the corridor, in Hana's laughter echoing through the walls, and in the quiet ache that grows heavier every time you turn away and yet, you tell yourself again and again, This is for the best. Because no matter how much your heart betrays you, some lines were never meant to be crossed.
-------
The evening air is thick with the scent of rain-soaked pavement as you climb the stairs to your apartment, exhaustion weighing on every step. Your bag digs into your shoulder, and your fingers are stiff from hours spent typing and sorting files at your part-time job. You just want to collapse maybe take a long shower, maybe forget the world for a while.
As you reach your floor, a familiar voice calls out, warm and crackling with age. "Y/N, dear! You're back late again."
You turn to see Mrs. Kim, your elderly neighbor who lives two doors down. Her grey hair is tied neatly in a bun, and she's holding a small basket of fruits. She smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
"Working yourself too hard again, aren't you?" she says, her voice gentle, motherly. Before you can respond, she presses the basket into your hands. "Here, take these. Fresh apples and pears. You need to eat properly, child. You look tired."
You try to smile, your throat tightening at the unexpected kindness. "Thank you, Mrs. Kim... I'll make sure to eat them."
"Good girl." She pats your arm, her eyes soft with concern. "You remind me of my granddaughter. Always running around, trying to do everything alone. Don't forget to rest, hmm?" You nod, smiling faintly as she waves and shuffles away down the hall. For a brief moment, the air feels lighter until you turn toward your apartment door and see someone walking down the hallway.
Jungkook.
He's carrying a small paper bag in one hand, hair slightly tousled as if he just returned from an evening out. His steps are slow, relaxed but the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the world stop for a heartbeat.
"Hey," he says softly, a small smile curving his lips. "It's been a while since I've seen you."
Your grip tightens on the basket. "Oh... yeah," you murmur, trying to sound casual, even as your pulse hammers in your ears.
He stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of his cologne warm, subtle, painfully familiar. "How have you been?" he asks, his tone carrying that same easy kindness that used to make you feel safe... and now only makes it harder to breathe.
"I've been... fine," you manage, eyes fixed on the floor.
He chuckles softly. "Hana's been asking about you, you know. She says you don't play with her anymore. She even tried to draw you a picture last week but said she didn't know when she'd get to give it to you."
The guilt slices through you cleanly. You force a small smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "I'm sorry. I've just been... busy. With work and university. I didn't mean to ignore her."
Jungkook studies your face for a moment, his expression unreadable something quiet, almost wistful, flickering in his gaze. Then he nods slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"I get it," he says softly. "You're working hard. Just... don't forget to take care of yourself, okay?"
Before you can react, he lifts his hand gently, almost hesitantly and pats your head. The gesture is simple, but it makes your heart skip painfully. His touch lingers for just a second before he pulls back, stepping past you toward his door.
"Good night, Y/N," he says over his shoulder, voice calm and low.
You watch him go, the hallway lights casting a soft glow on his back as he disappears into his apartment. You're left standing there, clutching the fruit basket like it's the only thing holding you together. Your chest feels heavy, your throat tight. You tell yourself it's just exhaustion that's all. But deep down, you know the truth.
No matter how far you try to run, Jungkook's voice, his kindness, and that quiet warmth in his eyes keep finding their way back to you.
-------
The next morning arrives slow and quiet, the kind of weekend morning where sunlight filters lazily through the curtains, turning the air golden. For once, you don't have to rush anywhere. No lectures. No part-time job. No excuses. You're in the middle of washing the breakfast dishes when a soft knock echoes at your door.
"Unnie?"
That small, hopeful voice makes your chest tighten instantly. You wipe your hands on a towel and open the door to find Hana standing there her hair slightly messy, clutching a sketchbook in her arms. Her round eyes shine up at you, full of hesitation and hope.
"Can I come in?" she asks quietly, her lower lip jutting out in the faintest pout.
You hesitate only for a heartbeat before sighing softly and stepping aside. "Of course, Hana. Come in."
Her whole face lights up as she skips into your apartment, her laughter instantly filling the space that had felt so still these past few weeks. You find yourself smiling genuinely, maybe for the first time in a while. She spreads her sketchbook across your coffee table and shows you her latest drawings colorful scribbles of her family, her school, and even you.
"This one's you, unnie!" she says proudly, pointing to a figure with long hair and a pink dress.
You laugh softly. "It's beautiful, Hana. You're really good at this."
"Daddy said the same thing!" she giggles, eyes sparkling. "He said you used to help me color better than him, though."
The mention of Jungkook's name makes your stomach twist, but you try to push it away. The next few hours pass easily Hana drawing, you helping her cut paper stars and butterflies, the apartment filled with the sound of crayons scratching and little bursts of laughter. You'd almost forgotten how comforting it felt to have her around how warm and light everything seemed when she was near.
Time slips away unnoticed until the clock strikes four. You're helping Hana tie her shoelaces when there's a firm knock at your door. You freeze for a second. That knock steady, familiar sends your pulse racing before you even turn the handle.
When you open the door, Jungkook is standing there. He's dressed casually loose black hoodie, hair slightly messy but the sight of him still steals the air from your lungs.
"There you are," he says, relief softening his voice as his eyes find Hana behind you. "I was starting to think you'd run away or something, kiddo."
Hana giggles, darting past you to cling to his leg. "Daddy! I was playing with Y/N unnie! We made stars!"
Jungkook smiles, crouching down to smooth her hair. "Ah, so that's where you were hiding. You should've told me, sweetheart. I didn't want to bother Y/N."
You shake your head quickly, forcing a polite smile. "She wasn't bothering me. I... actually had fun."
His gaze shifts to you then calm, steady, but there's something else beneath it. Something that makes your heart stumble. "It's nice to see you both laughing again," he says quietly. "Feels like it's been forever."
You look away, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah... I guess it has."
He studies you for a moment longer eyes soft but unreadable before he nods. "Thank you for spending time with her. I know you've been busy."
"It's nothing," you murmur. "She's... she's a sweet kid."
"I know," he says with a faint smile, resting a hand on Hana's shoulder. "Anyway, I'll get her out of your hair. You probably want to rest."
You shake your head again. "It's fine." As he turns to leave, Hana waves at you cheerfully. "Bye, unnie! I'll come again tomorrow!"
You smile faintly, waving back. "Okay. I'll be here."
Just before Jungkook turns the corner, he glances back once more his expression softer than you've seen in a long time. "You should smile like that more often, Y/N," he says quietly. "It suits you."
And before you can think of anything to say, he's gone walking down the hall with Hana's tiny hand tucked into his. You close the door slowly, your heart fluttering in that same, dangerous rhythm you swore you'd forgotten. The apartment feels too quiet again, the laughter fading into the walls.
You rest your back against the door, staring at the ceiling as your fingers brush the small paper star Hana left on your table. It's simple uneven edges, a little wrinkled but somehow, it feels like it carries everything you're trying so hard not to feel and as the sunlight fades from your window, you can't help but wonder if staying away from them was ever truly possible.
------
The following weekend feels quieter than usual. Hana insists you join her and Jungkook for a small picnic in front of their apartment building. You hesitate at first, but her pleading eyes and infectious grin make it impossible to refuse. So now you're sitting on a soft blanket under the fading afternoon sun. Hana's tiny hands are sticky with juice as she munches on cut fruit, while Jungkook sits across from you, sleeves rolled up, laughing softly at his daughter's endless stories.
It feels normal. Warm. Easy in a way you hadn't felt in a long time.
"So," Jungkook says, leaning back on his palms. "How's university going? Still keeping yourself too busy to rest?"
You smile, rolling your eyes. "Someone has to work hard. Not all of us get to nap in the afternoon like Hana's dad."
He gasps dramatically, pretending to be offended. "Hey, I don't nap- I just rest my eyes."
You laugh, the sound surprising you. You hadn't realized how much you'd missed this the banter, the comfort, the way he always made everything feel lighter.
The afternoon drifts on with easy conversation and Hana's chatter filling the pauses. She eventually dozes off between you two, her small head resting on your lap, one hand still clutching a half-eaten piece of bread.
You gently brush her hair from her face, smiling softly. "She's out cold."
Jungkook leans closer to check on her, his shoulder brushing yours. The contact sends a spark up your arm subtle, yet impossible to ignore. You glance at him, intending to move away, but he looks up at the same moment. For a second, your eyes meet. The world seems to blur around that single moment the soft wind, the sun dipping low, his gaze too close, too gentle.
You realize, too late, that you've leaned in slightly. That your breath has hitched. That Hana's head is the only thing keeping you from moving closer and then a sharp voice cuts through the still air.
"Jungkook."
You both flinch.
Standing a few steps away is Min-seo, Jungkook's wife. Her expression is composed, but her eyes are cold, distant. She takes in the scene before her Hana asleep, your hand still hovering near her hair, Jungkook leaning too close.
It looks wrong.
You open your mouth to explain, but no words come out. Jungkook quickly sits up straighter, guilt flashing across his face as he murmurs, "Min-seo, it's not what it looks like-"
"I see," she interrupts quietly, her voice clipped, polite in that dangerous way only anger can be. "You seem... comfortable."
The silence that follows is unbearable. Hana stirs in her sleep, and you slowly lift her head from your lap, gently setting her on the blanket. Your hands tremble slightly.
"I should go," you whisper, avoiding both their eyes. "It's getting late."
"Y/N-" Jungkook starts, but you're already standing, brushing invisible dust off your clothes, forcing a shaky smile that doesn't reach your eyes.
"It's fine," you say softly. "Good night, Jungkook. Bye, Min-seo." You turn and walk away quickly, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out everything else.
Behind you, you hear Min-seo's voice again low, calm, but edged with something sharp. "She seems very close to you."
And that's the last thing you hear before you disappear into the building, the evening air pressing heavy against your chest. When you close your apartment door, your reflection in the dark glass looks like someone else, someone caught between guilt and longing, both too afraid and too late to understand what's happening.
-------
That evening, the quiet of your apartment feels heavier than usual. Through the thin wall you can hear muffled voices not clear, but sharp enough that you know it's coming from Jungkook's home. Min-seo's tone is controlled at first, then rising, her words edged with something brittle.
"I come home early one day and see you sitting there, laughing with her like you don't have a family waiting inside!"
Jungkook's reply is lower, rough around the edges. "It wasn't like that, Min-seo. She was just spending time with Hana. You're twisting it."
"Am I?" she snaps back. "You never used to talk about her, and now Hana can't stop mentioning her name! You don't even notice how it looks, do you?"
The sound of something a chair, maybe scrapes against the floor. Then silence. You stand frozen near your window, heart hammering, feeling like an intruder in something you never meant to be part of. You tell yourself to turn away, to stop listening, but you can't. Every word feels like it's pressing directly against your chest.
"Min-seo," Jungkook says after a long pause, his voice softer. "You're being unfair. Y/N's a good person. She's been helping Hana because she cares, not because of me."
"Maybe," Min-seo answers, her voice trembling now. "But it's you who doesn't see the line anymore."
The door slams. The sound makes you flinch. Then, quiet again. A few minutes later, you hear light footsteps down the hall. You know before he knocks.
You open the door just as Jungkook raises his hand to do the same. He looks tired dark circles under his eyes, expression drawn tight. "Sorry," he says quickly, voice low. "I didn't mean to bother you. I just wanted to make sure... this doesn't make things awkward."
You shake your head, though your pulse won't settle. "It's fine. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I should've been more careful-"
He cuts you off gently. "You didn't do anything wrong, Y/N." His eyes hold yours steady, but weary. "Min-seo just... she worries. I'll handle it."
You nod, but inside, something uneasy stirs. You want to believe him, want to pretend that the argument didn't happen, that the look Min-seo gave you wasn't full of quiet accusation.
After he leaves, you linger by the door for a long time. Your reflection in the glass looks pale, restless. You tell yourself to stop thinking about him about his tired eyes, his voice, the way he defended you but the thought of him keeps circling back like a tide that won't pull away.
Your friends would call it a crush. You know better. It isn't love, not exactly. It's something quieter, sadder the way loneliness finds a home in the wrong places. You lie awake long after midnight, hearing the faint sound of a door closing somewhere down the hall, and wonder if Jungkook is awake too wondering about you.
--------
You've been overthinking again.
About him. About that day. About the fight you were never meant to hear.
No matter how hard you try, Jungkook keeps slipping into your thoughts uninvited, unavoidable. He lingers in the small moments of your day: the quiet hum of the elevator, the sound of footsteps in the hallway, the faint laughter of Hana somewhere below. Every reminder pulls at a thread you're desperate to cut.
You've told yourself again and again that it means nothing that what you feel is just confusion, attachment, guilt tangled up into something that only feels like more. But the lie is beginning to unravel. You see him everywhere. When you leave for university, when you return from work, he's there sometimes at the stairs, sometimes in the corridor, sometimes stepping out of the elevator just as you walk in.
He doesn't speak much now. Just a brief glance, a small nod, and that faint, polite smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Then he's gone again walking past you like a stranger who happens to share the same building and that hurts more than you expected.
Because you remember a different Jungkook, the one who used to laugh with you over the smallest things, who'd tease you gently for working too hard, who always looked soft despite the tattoos that lined his arms. That warmth, that easy comfort, has vanished, leaving behind a quiet that feels too cold to bear.
You try to convince yourself it's for the best. That distance is safer. Cleaner. Easier. But every time you catch that flicker of hesitation in his eyes the almost-smile that fades before it begins your chest tightens with something sharp and unspoken.
Then there's Hana. She doesn't come by anymore. No soft knocks on your door. No drawings slipped under it. When you pass her on the stairs, she looks away. Her little hand tightens around her mother's as if afraid to even wave.
And Min-seo, she doesn't need to say a word. The coldness in her gaze is enough. Her once-courteous nods have turned into silence, and the air between you feels heavier every time your paths cross.
You tell yourself you understand. That she's protecting what's hers, that you were the one who blurred the lines first, even if unintentionally.
But understanding doesn't make it hurt any less. You bury yourself in work and studies, pretending not to notice the ache that follows you home. You read, you write, you scroll through your phone trying to distract yourself, but the moment your mind quiets, his voice echoes again.
The memory of him calling your name. The way he'd said, "You didn't do anything wrong, Y/N." You close your eyes and wish you could believe that. Because lately, even when you tell yourself to forget him, your heart refuses to listen.
------
Jimin had been watching you carefully for days now. The sighs. The way your gaze would drift to nowhere in particular. The way your fingers fidgeted against your notebook at work, or how you'd forget what someone had just said to you.
He'd catch you staring blankly at the wall some afternoons, shoulders slumped, lips pressed together like you were holding back something you didn't dare say aloud.
Every time he asked, "What's wrong?" you'd force a smile and murmur, "Nothing." But he wasn't fooled.
Jimin let himself into your apartment, two six-packs of beer swinging from his hand. "I'm here to save you from yourself," he announced, dropping the bag onto your kitchen counter. "You've been operating at about 30% efficiency for a week, and I'm pretty sure you tried to staple your own hand to a memo this morning. You need a break. I brought beer and company."
You mentally rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small, genuine smile that tugged at your lips. He was right. You needed this. "Fine, Park Jimin," you sighed, grabbing two glasses. "Don't say I didn't warn you if I get maudlin."
A few hours and several beers later, the atmosphere in your living room was warm, hazy, and thick with unspoken feelings. You were definitely drunk, the room swaying just slightly, and the usual tight knot in your chest had loosened into a dull ache. Jimin, while clearly tipsy, was attentive and focused entirely on you.
"Seriously, though, Y/N," he murmured, his voice soft, resting his chin on his knees as he watched you. "What's going on? You keep looking like you've lost your best friend. Talk to me."
You shook your head, staring into your glass. You'd spent so long pretending it was nothing, you didn't know how to start. The silence stretched until a sob escaped you, wet and unexpected. Tears suddenly spilled over, hot and immediate.
Jimin was instantly beside you, gathering you into a warm, strong embrace. You clung to him, burying your face in his shirt. You didn't talk, you just cried, letting the deep, soul-shattering sadness wash over you.
When your tears finally subsided, you pulled back just enough to look at him, your vision blurry. "I can't do this anymore, Jiminie," you choked out, your voice a fragile whisper. You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning your forehead against his chest again. "I just... I want to forget him."
The statement hung in the air, heavy and loaded. Jimin's arms tightened around you. He didn't know who "him" was, but he didn't need to. He just knew someone had hurt you, someone you clearly loved, and that thought ignited a protective, burning anger in his chest.
"Hey," he said, gently tipping your chin up so you had to meet his gaze. His eyes were sincere and slightly clouded with drink, but utterly earnest. "Whoever he is, he doesn't deserve you. Look at you. You're kind, you're smart, you make everyone around you better. You don't deserve this kind of pain."
He brushed a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb, and the touch sent a curious warmth through you that had nothing to do with the alcohol. It was the physical proof of his care, of the feelings he'd been holding onto for you for months.
"You said you want to forget him?" he asked, his voice low, his face inches from yours. You nodded mutely, still aching.
"Then let me help you," he whispered, a daring, desperate light flickering in his eyes. "Let me give you something else to think about. I can make you forget him, just for tonight. I can give you a moment where you only think about me."
The vulnerability and yearning in his expression was impossible to ignore. You knew what he was offering a distraction, a way out of your own head, and a path into something you knew was always simmering between you two. In your drunk, broken state, you didn't have the strength to resist him, or the wisdom to deny yourself this small, fleeting comfort.
"Jimin..." you breathed out, the name a sigh of acceptance.
He didn't wait. He closed the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tentative and consuming. It was clumsy and soft from the beer, but held a rush of built-up tension and genuine affection. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close against him, and for the first time all night, the image of the person who broke your heart finally started to fade at the edges.
He gently shifted, guiding you both off the sofa and toward the hallway, a trail of discarded clothes and promises left behind in the dim living room. There was only Jimin, and the sweet, comforting reality of his arms around you, keeping the darkness at bay.
------
When sunlight slipped softly through the curtains, Jimin was already awake. You were still asleep beside him, face relaxed and peaceful for the first time in days. The faint rise and fall of your chest made him smile. He didn't want to wake you, not when you finally looked at peace after weeks of exhaustion and hidden tears.
Quietly, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch lingering just a second longer than he meant it to. "Sleep well," he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips.
He slid out of bed carefully, making sure not to disturb you, and padded toward the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he scanned the shelves, nearly empty. A carton of milk, half a lemon, and a few packets of instant noodles. He sighed softly and chuckled to himself.
"Of course. Nothing to work with," he murmured.
After a quick thought, he grabbed his keys and quietly stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. The hallway was calm and still, morning light streaming through the narrow windows. He decided to grab a few things from the nearby store maybe some eggs, bread, and coffee. Something simple, something warm.
When he returned a few minutes later, paper bags in hand, he noticed a man walking just a few steps ahead of him tall, broad shoulders, sleeves pushed up to reveal tattoos winding across his arms. He was carrying a small basket of milk and breakfast items, probably for his family.
Jimin smiled faintly to himself. Family man, he thought. Must be nice. But as he approached his door, your door he realized something that made him pause. The man wasn't walking past. He was standing right there, next to your apartment. Unlocking the one just beside it.
Jimin slowed, glancing briefly at him.
The man, Jungkook looked up at that exact moment. Their eyes met. For a second, neither said a word. Jungkook's expression was unreadable, calm but sharp, his gaze flicking briefly toward Jimin's neck where a faint mark, barely visible but unmistakable, showed beneath the collar of his shirt.
Recognition flashed in Jungkook's eyes. Then a pause. Then something else.
"You..." Jungkook began, his tone steady but low. "You must be Y/N's boyfriend, right?" Jimin froze for half a heartbeat, caught off guard.
Then he laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck, cheeks tinting pink. "Uh- yeah," he said after a second. "Yeah, I am."
It wasn't true, not yet. But saying it out loud made his heart race in a way that surprised even him. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe it was hope. Jungkook just nodded once, expression unreadable. "Nice to meet you," he said curtly before turning and disappearing into his apartment.
The air felt strange for a moment heavy, uncertain. Jimin stood there, watching the door close behind him, a small crease forming between his brows. "Weird," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he turned back toward your door. He unlocked it quietly, stepping inside with the groceries. The faint sound of your breathing filled the still apartment, and his expression softened again.
--------
Inside his apartment, the familiar hum of the morning filled the air, the faint sound of the coffee machine, Hana's soft humming as she drew on the floor, and Min-seo flipping through a magazine at the dining table. But Jungkook barely heard any of it. He closed the door behind him, resting his hand on the doorknob a moment longer than needed. His heartbeat was loud, too loud echoing in his chest like it didn't belong to him.
Y/N's boyfriend.
The words kept circling in his mind, sharp and heavy, as if they carried more weight than they should have. He didn't know why he asked. He didn't even know why it mattered. He set the groceries down on the kitchen counter, trying to steady his breathing. "I got the milk and bread," he said, forcing his voice to sound normal.
Min-seo barely looked up. "Hmm," she hummed nonchalantly, flipping a page. "Leave it there."
Hana looked up instead, smiling. "Daddy, can I make toast?"
Jungkook turned to her and smiled or tried to. "Yeah, sure, kiddo. Just be careful, okay?" But his mind wasn't there.
It was next door. He could still picture it, Jimin standing in front of your door, groceries in hand, that faint smile on his lips. The way he said "yeah, I am" so casually, so sure. It shouldn't have bothered him. You were free to do whatever you wanted. He knew that.
But something about it, about the thought of someone else being there with you, someone else making you breakfast, someone else seeing that soft side of you that he used to see, made his stomach twist painfully. He poured himself a cup of coffee, staring blankly into the dark liquid as Min-seo's voice cut through the silence.
"You're quiet," she said flatly. "Something wrong?"
Jungkook looked up. "No. Just... tired." Her eyes lingered on him for a second longer than usual. "You've been saying that a lot lately."
------
The sunlight was a glaring, unwelcome intrusion. You groaned, your head registering a dull, pulsing throb that confirmed the success of last night's mission to get thoroughly drunk. The first thing you noticed was the pleasant, unfamiliar scent of roasted coffee and cooking butter. The second thing you noticed was the distinct lack of a warm, heavy body beside you.
You opened your eyes. You were tangled in your blankets, wearing what you vaguely recognized as one of Jimin's soft, oversized t-shirts. The memories of the previous night the tears, the whispered confession about wanting to forget someone, and the blurring, intimate tenderness with Jimin, rushed back in a mortifying wave.
You slowly sat up, trying to gather your dignity. You needed to face him, but the shame was a palpable, heavy weight. You looked around, found your clothes balled up near the end of the bed, and quickly dressed in something more appropriate than a borrowed shirt.
You took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen. Jimin was standing at the stove, looking unfairly put-together despite the circumstances. He was wearing the same jeans as last night, but had found your apron and was humming softly, expertly flipping pancakes.
He glanced over his shoulder, and his face broke into a genuine, bright smile. "Morning, sleepyhead," he said, his voice easy and warm, utterly devoid of awkwardness or judgment. "Just in time. Everything smells better after coffee."
You leaned against the doorframe, still feeling heat creep up your neck. "Jimin, about last night-" you started, your voice barely a whisper.
He turned off the heat and walked over to you, gently taking your hand. "Shhh," he said softly, giving your knuckles a reassuring squeeze. He looked you straight in the eye, his expression sincere. "Don't apologize. Not even a little bit."
He let go of your hand and gestured toward the counter. "Look. There's a lot going on in your head right now, I know that. But here's what you need to focus on: I'm making pancakes, and they are excellent. We're going to eat, we're going to hydrate, and we're going to figure out your coffee order."
He nudged you toward the table, which he had already set for two. "Nothing happened that you have to be ashamed of," he murmured, his voice dropping slightly. "It was... good. And I wanted it, Y/N. I really did. So, let's just be present for the pancakes, okay?" The sincerity and sheer normality of his demeanor instantly melted some of the ice around your embarrassment. He was treating this not as a shameful mistake, but as a lovely, albeit tipsy, event.
--------
The door clicked softly behind Jimin as he left, his hand raised in a lazy wave. "Text me if you need anything, yeah?" he called over his shoulder, his grin light and warm.
You smiled faintly, nodding. "Yeah, I will."
For a moment, you just stood there in the hallway, watching him walk away, his figure fading into the soft morning light at the end of the corridor. The quiet that followed felt strange, too still after his laughter had filled your apartment all morning. You were about to turn back inside when you froze.
Jungkook was there.
Standing just a few feet away, his expression unreadable. He must've come out of his apartment just moments ago or maybe he had been there for a while. You couldn't tell. Your heart skipped painfully, a wave of surprise flooding through you. "J-Jungkook- I didn't see you there."
He tilted his head slightly, lips curving into a faint, almost polite smile. "It's nice seeing you," he said, his tone calm but edged with something you couldn't quite name. "Along with your boyfriend."
The word hit you like a stone.
"He-" you started, shaking your head, "he's not my-"
But Jungkook cut you off, his voice smooth, almost too casual. "But it would be nice if you both kept it down next time," he said, his gaze steady, unflinching. "These walls aren't soundproof."
For a moment, you couldn't even process what he meant. You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks. "I- I'm sorry," you managed, voice small, unsure.
He let out a short laugh not mocking, but distant, cold in a way you hadn't heard from him before. "It's fine," he said, eyes softening but not quite warm. "That's how couples are. Young and wild love. I understand. You don't need to be sorry."
You stared at him, words caught in your throat. There was a tightness in your chest you couldn't describe a strange ache that burned and stung all at once.
You wanted to tell him he was wrong. That Jimin wasn't your boyfriend. That nothing happened. That the only person who made your heart twist like this was him.
But you couldn't say any of it. You just stood there frozen, small, feeling the distance in his eyes like a wall you could never climb. He gave you one last look before turning away, his voice low. "Have a good day, Y/N." And then he was gone. You stood there long after he'd disappeared inside his apartment, the echo of his words replaying in your head. Young and wild love.
Jungkook had noticed the subtle shift before he could even name it. Min-Seo's distance.
At first, he thought it was work long hours, late nights, stress he could only imagine. But now it had become undeniable. She didn't give him the warmth she once had. She barely spoke at dinner, and when she did, her words were clipped, measured, almost indifferent.
Hana was starting to feel it too. Her bright little smile dimmed when her mother was late again, the excuses piling up into hollow routines. Dinner was eaten in silence, homework left untouched, and bedtime stories reduced to a hurried "goodnight" before Min-Seo disappeared behind her bedroom door.
Jungkook tried, as he always did.
"Min-Seo," he began one evening, the soft glow of the kitchen light illuminating the tension in his shoulders, "can we talk?"
She barely glanced up from her phone. "About what?"
"About... us," he said carefully. "Hana misses you. I miss you. You've been distant. I just want to know why."
Her eyes flicked toward him briefly sharp, guarded, and then gone. "I'm tired, Jungkook. I don't owe you explanations every time I come home late."
"Late? Drunk again?" he asked, voice low but steady. "This isn't just about work. You've barely been here, and Hana-"
"She'll survive," she interrupted, standing. Her movement was abrupt, final. "You act like everything's my fault. Maybe you should focus more on how you spend your time."
He froze, heart tightening at the bitterness in her voice. "How I spend my time?"
"Yes," she snapped, suddenly fierce, her nails gripping the edge of the counter. "Like how you spend time with her. With the neighbor. Always hanging around her, always smiling at her, always..."
"Min-Seo!" Jungkook's voice rose sharply, a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "That has nothing to do with her. You're twisting it. I love you- I love you. Y/N doesn't matter. She's a neighbor. That's all."
She laughed a sharp, hollow sound that cut through the room like glass. "Don't lie to me. Don't act like you don't enjoy her company. You've been more attentive to her than to me lately. And Hana notices it too, you know. She talks about her all the time, and you just encourage it."
Jungkook ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly, fighting the rising anger and guilt. "I didn't encourage it. Hana asked, and I said yes because it makes her happy. Nothing more. I've never wanted... I've never looked at her that way. She's a kid, Min-Seo. You're the one I love."
Her eyes blazed now, a mixture of hurt and fury. "You think saying that makes it okay? That I should just trust you blindly? You think your excuses erase the way you act around her?"
Hana, standing quietly behind the doorway, peeked in. Her small voice trembled as she asked, "Mommy, are you and Appa fighting?"
Jungkook's heart twisted painfully. He knelt down to her, brushing her hair back gently. "No, Hana. Nothing like that, okay? Mommy's just tired, that's all."
Min-Seo didn't soften. Her jaw tightened, and she turned toward the door. "I need space. Maybe some time to think. I can't-"
"You can't what?" Jungkook demanded, standing now, voice sharp but controlled. "Ignore your family because you're angry at me? At me for being a father, a husband, for trying to keep things normal?"
She didn't answer. She just left. Jungkook closed the door behind her and sank against the wall, head in his hands. His chest felt tight, heavy with frustration, helplessness, and a creeping sense of guilt he didn't deserve.
Hana came over, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. "Appa... she's mad at you."
"I know, kiddo," he murmured, holding her close. "I know. But I promise... I'm not going anywhere. And I'll make sure you're okay."
Yet as he rocked her gently, the echo of Min-Seo's words lingered. Always smiling at her. Always encouraging her. Jungkook couldn't shake the thought. He wanted to scream, to beg, to explain, but every word seemed useless. Min-Seo's jealousy her fear, her anger had built a wall he didn't know how to climb.
---------
It was late, later than usual when you heard the soft knock at your door.
You opened it and froze. Jungkook was standing there, his expression tight with worry, Hana clinging to his hand. Her small face looked up at him with a mixture of hope and confusion.
"Y/N," he said quickly, voice low but urgent. "Can you... take care of Hana for a while? I need to go look for Min-Seo."
You blinked, heart stuttering. "Huh? Wait... what do you mean?"
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and anxiety mixing in the sharp lines of his face. "She hasn't come home. I've tried calling, and I've checked her usual places. She's... she's not answering. I need to find her, and Hana can't stay out there all night waiting."
Your chest tightened, a strange twist of jealousy tightening along with concern. 'So he's leaving his daughter with me, so he can go find his wife? ' The thought dug uncomfortably at your stomach, even as you forced yourself to nod.
"Of course," you said softly, voice almost trembling. "I'll take care of her. Don't worry."
Hana clung to your side immediately, like she already knew this was her safe place. You smiled weakly, ruffling her hair, but your mind kept racing. 'He's going to pick her up, and... and maybe they'll have a date. They'll go out, laugh, maybe... together.'
You shook your head, pushing the thought down. You couldn't think like that. But your heart betrayed you, twisting tight at the idea of him enjoying himself while you were left behind.
Jungkook crouched down, brushing a strand of hair from Hana's face. "Thank you," he said softly. His eyes flicked to yours for a brief second, but you caught a flicker of something in them worry, pure and unmasked.
And then he was gone, leaving you alone with Hana.
You tried to busy yourself reading, letting her play with her toys, offering snacks but the thought of Jungkook out there, somewhere searching for Min-Seo, kept gnawing at your mind. 'And she's probably laughing at him somewhere, and... and he's...'
You pushed the thought away again, focusing on Hana, who eventually grew tired. She yawned, her small body curling up under your blanket, eyes drooping. You let her sleep, not wanting to wake her. She couldn't stay awake all night waiting for her parents.
You watched her for a long moment, your chest tightening again not because of the worry for her, but because of the quiet apartment, empty except for you and her. You couldn't stop picturing Jungkook leaving you there like this so he could be with Min-Seo.
Is that really it? you thought, biting your lip. Or is something else going on?
The image of his worried eyes as he left flashed in your mind again so different from what you imagined. It wasn't excitement or anticipation. It was concern, pure and raw.
But that didn't stop the jealousy from creeping in. You hugged the blanket around Hana a little tighter, your thoughts twisting in a way you didn't want to admit.
'He's out there looking for her and I'm here, stuck watching his daughter sleep. I shouldn't care, but... why does it hurt like this?'
Hours passed. You heard the faint sounds of the city outside, distant traffic, occasional footsteps in the corridor. You checked the clock repeatedly, each minute stretching longer than the last.
When the door finally clicked open again, you looked up to see Jungkook standing there, relief and exhaustion etched into his face. Hana stirred slightly but didn't wake, still curled up in your arms.
His gaze immediately found yours. It wasn't the look of a man enjoying a night out with his wife. It wasn't playful, it wasn't casual. It was worry, deep and consuming, the kind that made your chest twist and ache in ways you weren't ready to admit.
You swallowed, realizing in that instant that your jealousy irrational as it felt wasn't about dates or fun. It was about him, about the way he moved through the world, the way he cared, the way he still belonged somewhere you weren't allowed to touch.
And even though Hana slept quietly in your arms, even though the night had passed in silence, your heart refused to let go.
Because Jungkook, that man you'd dreamed about, the one you shouldn't want had just reminded you, in the smallest, quietest way, that he wasn't yours.
------
Jungkook sank into the couch, Hana curled up quietly on the other side of the room, still asleep. His shoulders slumped, exhaustion and worry etched into the lines of his face.
"I went everywhere," he murmured, voice low, almost broken. "I went to her workplace, her friends' places... I even checked the streets near the park. I don't know where she is, Y/N. I- I can't find her anywhere."
You watched him carefully, hiding the pulse of satisfaction that twitched behind your chest. His panic, the raw fear in his voice, made your heart thrum in ways you couldn't name.
"Maybe..." you said softly, tilting your head, pretending to hesitate. "maybe she's just... out there somewhere, doing something she wants. She's been distant lately, hasn't she?"
Jungkook's head shot up, eyes sharp and glimmering with worry. "Distant? You mean... she's been avoiding me? That's- that's nothing. Min-Seo... she loves me. She can't do this... she can't just disappear like this. She wouldn't-"
You let your voice drop to a whisper, almost conspiratorial, leaning slightly closer to him. "But she has been distant, hasn't she? Maybe... maybe she's seeing someone else."
His brow furrowed, panic threatening to override his calm. "No," he said quickly, a desperate edge creeping into his tone. "No, she wouldn't do that. Min-Seo... she loves me. She can't- she wouldn't cheat on me."
You bit your lip, tilting your head as though considering his words. Your mind raced, each thought sharper than the last, darkly pleased at the effect you were having. 'She's not the one he's supposed to care about. I am.'
Internally, you whispered to yourself, 'He can't see it. He can't see that I love him too... why can't he see me?'
You reached out slowly, your hand brushing his, hesitating just a second before grasping it firmly. His eyes flicked down at your hand, tension visible in the way his fingers twitched.
"I know the truth hurts," you said softly, your voice honeyed, almost tender. "But we- we aren't sure where she is. Or if she's... cheating on you."
You let your eyes meet his, letting the words hang there, tasting the panic and confusion that shimmered behind them.
"I just..." you continued, letting your voice soften, almost comforting. "I just hope she's fine. And comes back to you."
Jungkook's grip tightened slightly on your hand, and you felt it, the small quiver in his body, the raw emotion he couldn't mask and even as you said it, your mind twisted the scene in ways he couldn't see. You were the one here, calm, steady, "caring" while he panicked over a wife who was distant and mysterious. You were the one giving him comfort and yet, planting seeds of doubt.
His eyes searched yours for answers, but you didn't give them. Instead, you just held his hand a little longer, letting him lean on you letting him depend on you while thinking about someone else.
And deep down, you smiled quietly to yourself. Because he was yours, whether he knew it or not.
-------
The apartment was quiet, save for the soft rise and fall of Hana's breathing. Her small body was curled beneath the blanket, peaceful and completely unaware of the tension hanging in the air.
"You should sleep here tonight," you said softly, glancing at Jungkook. "Hana's already asleep... you'll rest better if you stay."
He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the sleeping child, his mind clearly racing. "I... okay," he said finally, his voice low. The exhaustion etched into his features was unmistakable worry, tension, and too many thoughts crowding his head.
You nodded silently, letting him make his way to the couch. He moved carefully, like he didn't want to disturb the fragile peace of the room. You watched him settle, the familiar line of his body softened in slumber, and then turned toward Hana, settling back beside her as she shifted slightly and murmured in her sleep. You let the night stretch out quietly, the soft hum of the city beyond your window filling the apartment.
-------
Morning arrived slowly. Light spilled into the room, warm and golden, brushing across the furniture and illuminating the quiet apartment.
You stirred first, blinking sleepily and stretching. But your attention was immediately drawn to the couch.
Jungkook was there. Curled up, body slightly twisted, his arm tucked under his head. His expression, even in sleep, was tight, almost guarded a faint frown lingering between his brows, evidence of a restless night.
Something inside you stirred a spark of something you couldn't name, excitement mixed with longing, a twist in your chest that made your heartbeat quicken. You found yourself unable to look away.
Carefully, you leaned closer, drawn to the curve of his jaw, the slight furrow of worry in his face. Your fingers lifted slowly, brushing gently against his cheek. The skin was warm, soft beneath your touch.
Then, almost instinctively, you traced a finger along the bridge of his nose.
A soft stir, a quiet murmur escaped his lips, and he shifted slightly.
Your heart jumped. Panic hit in an instant. You straightened immediately, stepping back as if the contact had been nothing, though the heat thrumming through your chest told you otherwise.
Jungkook blinked, slowly coming awake. His eyes, tired and slightly dull, met yours. There was a softness there, yes, but also exhaustion a weight you could almost see pressing down on him.
"Good morning," you said, your voice quieter than usual, catching slightly at the edge.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, and murmured back, "Good morning." His voice was low, rough from sleep. But the dull look in his eyes, the tension still lingering in the set of his shoulders made your chest ache in ways you couldn't name.
You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were, how intimate the apartment felt in that quiet morning light. Hana remained asleep, oblivious to the tension, while you and Jungkook shared a moment that felt fragile, electric, and impossible to define.
Even as he adjusted himself on the couch, preparing to fully wake, you couldn't tear your eyes away. Something in you buzzed, a dark thrill under your ribs, as you realized just how much this him, his presence, the exhaustion he couldn't hide had already rooted itself inside you.
-----
Jungkook gathered Hana in his arms, her small head resting against his chest, still drowsy from her long night. She murmured softly, half-asleep, and you felt a pang of something, jealousy, perhaps, and longing, curling tight in your chest.
"Are you taking her back?" you asked softly, your voice barely hiding the tremor in it.
He paused at the door, adjusting Hana so she wouldn't wake. "Yeah... she needs her routine," he murmured, rubbing her back gently.
Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to offer, to keep him here. "I can make breakfast... for both of you. You could stay. You wouldn't be bothering me."
He shook his head quickly, a faint, apologetic smile tugging at his lips. "I can't... You've already done so much. I don't want to bother you. Hana and I will go."
Your chest constricted. But then a spark of something dark, thrilling, and dangerous flickered in your mind. 'This is it. This is my chance. My sign. This time, I won't back off.'
You watched him walk out, holding Hana close. Your fingers curled slightly around the edge of the doorframe, as if you were physically holding onto him, your thoughts spinning. 'He's mine... if I want him, he'll stay. He has no idea how much I want him.'
------
As Jungkook stepped into the corridor, his steps slowed. And there she was. Min-Seo, standing at her door, arms crossed, eyes sharp and cold as she looked at him. The sight of her made the muscles in his jaw tighten.
"Where... where have you been?" he asked, concern heavy in his voice. "I've been worried."
Her lips curved in a harsh, dismissive smirk. "That's none of your business," she snapped. "And what exactly were you doing in her home?"
His chest tightened, hesitation flickering across his face. "Hana... she was asleep there, and-"
He stopped. How could he possibly explain the truth? That he had slept there, in your apartment, because you had insisted and Hana had needed him? That he had spent the night so close to you? His throat tightened; words failed him. He just shook his head slowly, eyes apologetic.
Min-Seo's gaze sharpened further, and she shook her head in frustration. "You spent the night with her, seeing I wasn't there. Not just you... but Hana along with you."
His shoulders stiffened. "It's not what you think," he said quietly, but firm. "I... Hana was asleep, and I didn't want her to wake up alone. That's all."
She took a step toward him, eyes narrowing. "Don't lie to me, Jungkook. I can see it. You stayed there, and you-" Her voice faltered just slightly, but her tone remained sharp. "You didn't think about me at all, did you?"
He opened his mouth to argue, to explain, but she turned sharply and walked inside, slamming the door behind her. The echo bounced down the hallway like a judge's gavel.
Jungkook stood frozen, Hana still in his arms, the weight of her accusation and her anger pressing on his chest. His heart was twisting, tangled between worry, frustration, and the unspoken truth he couldn't tell that his actions had been innocent, necessary even, yet they had only fed Min-Seo's suspicions.
------
The apartment felt smaller somehow, as if the walls themselves were closing in on the two of them.
Jungkook's hands were clenched at his sides, jaw tight. "Where were you, Min-seo? You didn't answer your phone, you didn't come home... Hana and I were worried sick!" His voice trembled slightly, a mix of anger and fear.
Min-Seo's eyes were cold, distant, like daggers slicing through the air. She didn't answer immediately, and the silence between them stretched, sharp and suffocating.
"I asked you a question!" Jungkook's voice rose, cracking with frustration. "Where were you?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Why do you even care?" she shot back, her tone cutting, venomous. "It's not like it's any of your business."
He took a step closer, the desperation in his movements obvious. "It is my business! You're my wife! Hana's mother! Don't you see how worried I've been? How she's been waiting for you?"
Min-Seo shook her head sharply, her hair falling into her face as she turned away slightly, refusing to meet his eyes. "You're so pathetic sometimes," she spat. "Always so... obsessed. Always hovering over her, over Y/N. Maybe if you paid attention to me for once, I wouldn't have to go anywhere!"
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His chest tightened painfully, and for a moment he could barely breathe. "That has nothing to do with Y/N! Stop blaming her for us! I love you. I love you, Min-Seo!"
Her laugh was bitter, hollow. "Love? You call that love? You spend more time worrying about Y/N and playing house with her than you do with your own family. Maybe I don't even matter to you anymore."
The sharpness of her accusation stung, a wound deeper than anything physical. Jungkook opened his mouth to argue, but she wouldn't let him speak. Her eyes flashed, her arms crossed like a wall he couldn't penetrate.
"You don't understand anything," he said finally, voice low, controlled but breaking at the edges. "I'm not... I'm not ignoring you. I didn't go to her home because I wanted to... I went because Hana was asleep, and she needed me. Nothing else."
Min-Seo shook her head, cutting him off again. "Don't lie to me, Jungkook. Don't pretend you're just doing this for Hana. You like being there. You like her. And I... I can see it. I see everything!"
Her words, sharp and accusing, reverberated through the apartment. Hana, curled up on the couch with a small blanket over her shoulders, stirred and let out a soft whimper. Her small face crumpled, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Appa... Mommy... stop," she whimpered, voice trembling.
Jungkook's heart twisted violently. He moved toward her immediately, lowering himself to her level. "Hana, hey, it's okay, okay? I'm right here, sweetheart." He pulled her into his chest, feeling her little arms wrap around him tightly.
Min-Seo didn't relent. "You think you're a good father? You're pathetic! You can't even manage your family!"
Hana cried harder, small sobs shaking her body. "Stop! Please!" she wailed.
Jungkook felt something inside him break, a mixture of helplessness, rage, and desperation. "Min-Seo!" he shouted, voice cracking. "Do not yell at her! Stop! Hana doesn't deserve this!"
For a moment, the room was heavy with silence. Hana crying softly against Jungkook's chest, her tiny hands clutching his shirt, Min-Seo glaring at him with sharp, angry eyes, and him staring back, chest heaving, voice broken.
"I... I just wanted to know you were safe," he said quietly, almost pleading, looking at her with a mix of desperation and pain. "That's all. Is that so wrong?"
Min-Seo didn't answer. She turned abruptly and stalked toward her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The sharp sound echoed through the apartment, leaving an oppressive weight in the air.
Hana sniffled against Jungkook's shoulder, tears dampening his shirt. "Appa... why are you both fighting?" she asked softly, voice small and frightened.
He hugged her tighter, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I don't know, Hana... I don't know," he whispered, heart heavy, knowing that the fight wasn't over and that the tension between them had only just begun.
-------
Jungkook had been trying.
Every evening, every quiet moment, he tried to bridge the distance that had grown between him and Min-Seo. He approached her softly, carefully, with gentle words, small gestures, a cup of tea waiting for her on the counter, a quiet touch on her shoulder, attempts at conversation during dinner.
But she ignored him completely.
She buried herself in her phone, scrolling endlessly, her eyes glazed and distant. Even when he tried to catch her gaze, she would look past him, or away, as though he didn't exist. The few times she came home late, she smelled different heavy, strong cologne that was not his. Not the faint lingering scent he loved on her before, the one that clung subtly to her hair or wrists. This was sharp, almost artificial, and it pricked at him like an alarm.
At first, he tried to push it away. It can't be happening, he thought, shaking his head as he remembered the words you had planted in his mind weeks ago 'Maybe she's seeing someone else... maybe she's cheating on you.' He dismissed it, because Min-seo had been his wife for years, and he loved her. He couldn't imagine it.
But the doubt lingered, gnawing at him like a slow, insistent itch.
And then he noticed the faint marks.
A shallow bruise near her wrist, tiny scratches along her collarbone, delicate yet unmistakable. He tried to rationalize maybe she'd hit herself, maybe it was nothing but the combination of the smell, the distance, and the marks made his chest tighten painfully.
He found her in the bedroom one evening, phone in hand, eyes half-closed from exhaustion or perhaps indifference. His voice was careful, but carried a sharp edge of fear he tried to suppress.
"What have you been doing lately, Min-Seo?" His fingers twitched at his sides, tension coiling in his shoulders. "Is there... someone else?"
She glanced up, a slow, deliberate smile curling her lips. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, cold and unreadable.
"You don't need to know," she said lightly, chuckling, as though his panic was something entertaining.
The sound of her laughter cut through him like a knife. He could feel it in his chest, in the tightening of his stomach, in the ache behind his ribs. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a desperate mix of frustration, fear, and disbelief bubbling to the surface.
"I... I don't understand," he said quietly, voice breaking. "I've tried... I've tried to be here for you. I've tried to make things better."
She leaned back, shrugging lazily, her smirk never fading. "Maybe you just aren't enough for me right now," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm and teasing cruelty.
Jungkook's chest constricted painfully, a low ache spreading through him. He swallowed hard, trying to maintain control, trying to hold onto the love he still felt but now, doubt had slithered in, seeded by the faint whisper of your words and Min-Seo's actions.
And he couldn't shake it. He had always trusted her.
But now... what if she's not who I thought she was?
He clenched his jaw, eyes flicking to the faint marks on her skin again, his mind spinning and somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't stop hearing your voice soft, coaxing, insidious. Maybe she's seeing someone... maybe she's cheating on you...
The thought made his chest ache, his hands shake slightly, and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook felt truly lost.
--------
You spotted him near the stairs, the faint morning light catching on the edge of his jacket as he paused mid-step, waiting for the elevator. Your heart thumped faster than it should, each beat echoing in your chest.
"Jungkook," you said softly, stepping closer, forcing a sympathetic smile onto your face. "I... I need to tell you something. Can we talk... privately?"
His brow furrowed, curiosity and caution flickering across his face. "What is it, Y/N?"
You swallowed, your voice lowering, heavy with a carefully crafted sense of concern. "It's about Min-seo."
His hand paused on the railing, his posture stiffening. "What about her?" His voice was calm, but you could see the tension coiling in his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes.
You stepped closer, tilting your head slightly, eyes soft and apologetic. "I... I didn't want to tell you. I really didn't. But... I couldn't hide it from you anymore. I... I saw her."
He frowned, a quiet unease creeping over him. "Saw her... where?"
You hesitated, letting the words sink before you let them out, each one measured to twist the knife just right. "When you were out for work... I saw Min-seo with a man. At first, I thought it was normal maybe just a friend, maybe someone she met. But... then I saw them kiss."
His expression faltered, the faintest shadow of something heavy crossing his face. He had feared it, in some quiet corner of his mind, but hearing it spoken aloud still hurt.
"She... she was at a café too," you continued softly, letting your words drip like honey, both cruel and tender. "I saw her there, with him, when I was out with my friends. I didn't want to say anything... I really didn't. But... I couldn't keep it from you. You deserve to know."
Jungkook closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose, a sharp exhale escaping him. Pain, betrayal, frustration all rolled into a tight knot in his chest. Yet somewhere, deep down, he had seen this coming. Somehow, even before you spoke, he had known, had felt the shift, the distance, the unspoken secrets.
He opened his eyes again, voice low, steady despite the weight pressing down on him. "It's not your fault, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong. This... this isn't on you."
You watched him carefully, heart racing, satisfaction flickering quietly under the surface. Even as he tried to mask it, you could see it the hurt, the confusion, the sudden uncertainty. It made your chest tighten with an excitement you tried to hide.
He ran a hand through his hair, gaze flicking away, then back to you. There was silence for a moment, thick and heavy, filled with unsaid words and the tension of a secret now unveiled.
You forced a small, almost innocent smile. "I... just wanted you to know. You deserve the truth, Jungkook."
-------
You were at work, your focus flickering between the numbers on your screen and the storm that had been brewing quietly inside your chest since that morning with Jungkook. His face, his voice, the way he’d looked when you told him about Min-seo, all of it clung to your thoughts like a shadow you couldn’t escape.
You were supposed to be typing, but instead, you caught yourself staring at nothing, lost in the replay of his expression that heartbreak, that disbelief, that faint tremor in his voice. You had caused it, yet it made you feel closer to him somehow.
You didn’t even notice Jimin watching you from across the desk.
He’d been noticing you a lot lately the way you’d sigh softly between tasks, the way your fingers lingered over your phone screen as if waiting for a message that never came. There was a quiet sadness about you, one he couldn’t ignore.
By the time everyone else had packed up for the day, the office was bathed in the soft glow of evening light, and only the hum of the air conditioner filled the silence. Jimin lingered by your desk, pretending to scroll through his phone before finally clearing his throat.
“Y/N,” he said softly.
You turned, blinking out of your daze. “Hm?”
He looked nervous hands buried in his pockets, eyes darting briefly to the floor before meeting yours. “Can we… talk for a second?” You nodded, unsure where this was going.
He took a breath. “I’ve been meaning to say this for a while now. I just… I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.” His voice trembled slightly but held steady. “I like you.” You froze.
He gave a small, hesitant smile, stepping a little closer. “At first, I thought it was just concern, you know? You’ve been distant, lost… and I hated seeing you like that. But lately, I realized it’s more than that. I care about you. A lot.”
The words hung between you, warm and gentle words that might have made your heart flutter at another time. But now, they only left a strange ache in your chest. You wanted to respond, to say something kind, but Jungkook’s face flashed in your mind again his tired eyes, his broken voice. And suddenly, you couldn’t breathe right.
“Jimin…” you began softly, eyes lowering to your hands. “You’re… you’re really sweet. You’ve always been there for me. But I can’t.”
He blinked, confused. “Can’t?”
You nodded, forcing a small smile. “I just… I don’t feel that way. I’m sorry.”
You could see the flicker of hurt cross his face, quickly masked by an awkward chuckle. “Ah… I see.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to laugh it off, but the sound came out hollow. “It’s him, isn’t it?” Your eyes lifted, startled.
He smiled not angry, just sad. “You don’t have to say it. I can tell. Whoever he is… he’s the one you’re still thinking about.” You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.
Because he was right. As Jimin turned away, the guilt settled heavy in your chest, but beneath it was another feeling one darker, quieter, and far more dangerous. The image of Jungkook’s hurt expression replayed again, and something inside you twisted with satisfaction.
You didn’t need Jimin’s love. You already knew who you wanted and now, Jungkook’s heart was starting to crack and you were right there to catch the pieces.
--------
Your phone buzzed against the table, the faint vibration echoing through the quiet of your apartment. You turned it over Jungkook.
“When are you coming home?”
That one line was enough to pull a crooked smile from your lips. He’d been leaning on you more these days emotionally, quietly, almost helplessly. You liked it. You liked the way he trusted you now, how he came to you when everything else in his world was falling apart.
It had been a week since things between him and Min-seo started unraveling completely. The home that once radiated laughter soft voices, Hana’s giggles, the sound of their lives blending into warmth had turned into something else. Something raw.
Now, all you heard through the thin walls were the sharp edges of their arguments. Raised voices. Breaking glass. Hana’s soft crying that carried into the hall until she ended up here, in your apartment curled against your lap, her small hands gripping your sleeve, whispering that she didn’t want to go home.
You’d tell her stories until she fell asleep. Sometimes, she’d wake up asking for her father, and you’d soothe her back to dreams. A part of you ached for her. Another part darker, quieter whispered that this was what had to happen. That this was how things would finally start shifting in your favor.
It all came crashing down yesterday.
Min-seo had shown up at your door angry, wild, her voice echoing down the corridor. “Why is my daughter here?” she’d screamed, pointing at Hana who was sitting quietly behind you, tears streaking down her cheeks. “She’s my child, not yours! Keep her out of your twisted little games!” You had frozen, not out of guilt, but calculation waiting, knowing Jungkook would come and he did.
“Stop it, Min-seo,” he snapped, his tone like ice. “You’re ruining Hana’s peace. You’re ruining everything. She’s fine here, she’s happy here. I don’t want her caught up in your mess.”
Min-seo’s face had twisted in fury, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. She stormed away after that, slamming the door, her perfume and rage lingering in the air like smoke.
Now, it was the next evening, and Jungkook sat on your couch shoulders heavy, fingers tangled together. You watched him silently from across the room, your heart thudding with anticipation.
He exhaled, voice low, rough, defeated. “Y/N… we’re getting divorced.”
You blinked once, slowly pretending to be shocked, even though your pulse raced with quiet satisfaction. “Oh,” you whispered, crossing the room toward him. “I… I’m so sorry, Jungkook.”
He didn’t look up, just stared at the floor. “It’s for the best,” he said, more to himself than you. “It’s been breaking us… breaking Hana. I can’t keep pretending anymore.”
You sat beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body. You placed a hand gently on his arm, your tone careful, sympathetic though inside, your mind was electric.
“You deserve better than that, Jungkook,” you said softly. “You’ve always done everything for her, for your family. And if she couldn’t see that… that’s her mistake. You’re a good man. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.”
He finally looked at you eyes red, tired, hollow. You saw it, the cracks. The space opening. The quiet dependency that had begun to form. He nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you… for being here.”
And then he moved a slow, uncertain shift and suddenly he was leaning forward, arms wrapping around you. His head pressed against your shoulder, his breath uneven, trembling. For a moment, you froze, caught between surprise and something darker. Then your hands rose, almost instinctively, curling around his back, holding him close.
It felt too right. Too natural. Like this was where he was supposed to be all along. His pain, his exhaustion you could feel it all bleeding into you. You wanted to whisper that it was okay. That she didn’t deserve him. That you understood him better than anyone ever could.
But you stayed silent, letting him cling to you. Because this moment this crack in his armor was yours and you weren’t going to let it close again.
-------
The day arrived faster than anyone expected. The air outside the courthouse was sharp, thick with the kind of silence that only comes before something permanent. You stood by the cold marble walls, watching Jungkook from a short distance his posture straight, his expression unreadable, but his eyes they were hollow.
And then you saw her. Min-seo, immaculate as ever, her hair styled perfectly, her lips painted red standing beside him.
Jung Hoseok.
The man she’d chosen. The one she’d been sneaking around with while Jungkook was trying to hold his family together. He stood beside her confidently, his hand resting at the small of her back a gesture too intimate, too public. They looked like a couple who had nothing to hide, while Jungkook stood there like a shadow, silently watching the life he built slip away piece by piece.
Your jaw clenched. You didn’t even hate Hoseok not really. He seemed fine. Charming, maybe even kind. A perfect match for her, you thought bitterly. The kind of man Min-seo would choose to flaunt, just to prove she’d moved on.
But for Jungkook? No. He deserved someone gentler. Someone who actually understood him who knew how deep his loyalty ran, how quiet his heartbreak could be.
Someone like you.
The hearing began. You sat behind Jungkook, your fingers twisting together as the judge’s voice filled the courtroom detached, procedural, heartless. Words like “irreconcilable differences” and “mutual consent” echoed between the walls, turning their once-lively marriage into a pile of legal terms.
Jungkook didn’t flinch when the divorce was finalized. He just nodded, eyes cast downward, his hand gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles went white. But the moment custody was mentioned, everything shifted. Min-seo straightened, her voice confident. “Your honor, I can take care of Hana. She’s my daughter, she needs her mother. I have a stable job, a supportive partner, and a home ready for her.”
You could see Jungkook’s shoulders tighten. He looked up then, his voice cracking as he spoke. “Your honor, I’ve always been there for Hana. I’ve taken care of her every day. I can’t just lose her.”
His words trembled not with anger, but desperation. You could feel it radiating off him, that quiet panic of a father on the edge of losing everything that still gave him purpose.
But the court didn’t care about emotions. The judge’s tone was clinical, dismissive. “While both parents appear capable, the child’s welfare and emotional development are often better served under maternal care. Mr. Jeon, you are a single parent with work obligations. The child requires consistent supervision and emotional support.”
You saw the flicker in Jungkook’s expression the disbelief, the sting of humiliation. He was already broken by betrayal; now they were stripping away what little he had left. Min-seo’s lawyer smiled faintly confident, victorious. And you could see Hoseok’s hand slip into hers under the table, the gesture subtle but mocking.
You wanted to scream. To stand up and tell them that she wasn’t the one who held Hana when she cried, that it was Jungkook who stayed awake all night when his daughter had nightmares, that it was you who had seen them together father and daughter healing quietly while Min-seo was out living another life.
But you couldn’t. Not here. Not yet. The gavel struck. “The hearing is dismissed for today. Custody will be reconsidered in the next session.” and that was it.
The sound echoed like a death sentence.
Jungkook sat there for a moment after everyone else stood still, silent, as though his body had forgotten how to move. You could see his jaw working, his eyes glassy with frustration. Then, slowly, he rose and turned to you. You forced a faint smile, trying to keep your voice from trembling. “Hey… it’s not over yet.”
He nodded weakly, his voice a whisper. “Yeah… I know.”
But you could see it the cracks widening. He wasn’t just losing a marriage anymore. He was losing himself and as you looked at him standing there in the wreckage of everything he’d loved something inside you stirred. Pity. Affection. Obsession.
You weren’t sure what to call it anymore. You just knew you’d do anything to make sure he didn’t lose Hana.
--------
The corridors outside the courtroom felt colder than they should have. You watched Jungkook walk ahead, his pace slow, heavy like every step dragged the weight of something broken. His shoulders were slumped, his hands trembling slightly as he ran them through his hair. The silence between you was thick, the kind that hurt to breathe through.
“Jungkook…” you called softly. He stopped but didn’t turn. You could see his reflection in the glass wall the faint trace of tears in his eyes, the exhaustion painted across his face. When he finally faced you, his voice cracked.
“They’re taking her away from me.” You stepped closer. “They might. Not yet. You can still fight this, Jungkook.”
His laugh was bitter, empty. “Fight? You heard them. I’m a single dad, they don’t care how much I love her. They think she’s better off with that woman and her boyfriend.” You flinched at the venom in his tone, but deep inside, it thrilled you. Because for the first time, Jungkook was no longer defending Min-seo. He was resenting her.
You gently touched his arm, your voice calm, coaxing. “Then don’t let them win. We’ll prove you’re the better parent. Hana needs you, Jungkook. Not her. You can’t give up on her like this.” He looked at you, really looked as if your words were the first thing that made sense in hours and then, slowly, he nodded. “What do I even do?”
You smiled faintly, masking the satisfaction blooming beneath your chest. “Let me help you.”
--------
The days that followed were chaos. You were with him through it all building his case, organizing documents, tracking every record that showed Jungkook’s role as a father. School reports, doctor visits, even old photos of Hana clinging to his arm you compiled everything.
You helped him meet a better lawyer, one with a heart someone who’d see beyond the cold paperwork. You spent nights at his kitchen table, helping him sort files while Hana slept quietly in her room. Sometimes, Jungkook would fall asleep right there, his head resting on folded arms, and you’d just watch him.
Every breath he took. Every twitch of his lips. You memorized it all. Because somewhere between the court papers and sleepless nights, you stopped helping out of sympathy and started helping because you couldn’t bear to imagine his life without you in it.
-------
Then came the second hearing. This time, Jungkook didn’t sit defeated. He looked composed ready. You sat behind him again, hands folded tightly in your lap as the judge read through the updated reports.
His lawyer spoke clearly, passionately. “Mr. Jeon has been the child’s primary caregiver since birth. He has demonstrated emotional stability, financial capability, and consistent parental involvement. Meanwhile, the child’s mother has been documented engaging in frequent late-night absences and inappropriate behavior in the child’s presence.”
You saw Min-seo tense. Jungkook didn’t even look at her. His gaze stayed steady directed toward the judge, not the woman who betrayed him and when Hana’s teacher testified that Hana often cried for her father, saying she wanted to “stay where it felt safe,” something in the courtroom shifted.
For once, Jungkook’s pain wasn’t invisible. The verdict came quietly but powerfully. “Full custody of the minor child, Jeon Hana, is hereby awarded to her father, Mr. Jeon Jungkook, with visitation rights to the mother.”
You could feel your heart race. Jungkook froze, lips parting slightly disbelief flickering in his eyes before relief flooded in like a wave.
He turned to you. The moment your eyes met, he exhaled, shaky and raw. You smiled soft, controlled the way you always did when you wanted to hide too much emotion. When he pulled you into a hug, it wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. His arms tightened around you, like he was holding onto the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair. “I couldn’t have done this without you.” You hugged him back, your eyes fluttering shut as a slow, dangerous smile curved your lips.
'I know', you thought. 'You’ll never have to do anything without me again.'
-------
It had been weeks since the court granted Jungkook full custody of Hana. The chaos had finally settled, but the silence that followed was heavy too heavy for him.
Jungkook had stopped smiling the way he used to. He still laughed for Hana’s sake, still worked hard, still kept himself busy — but you could see it. The emptiness behind his eyes every time she ran into her room or fell asleep early. The loneliness that lingered when he thought no one was looking.
You started visiting them often. Sometimes to help with Hana’s homework, sometimes just to drop off dinner. You told yourself it was just kindness, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t. You needed to be near him and maybe, just maybe he needed it too.
One evening, you stood at Jungkook’s door holding a bowl of soup. Hana had caught a small cold, and you’d promised to bring her something warm. Jungkook opened the door, wearing his usual black tee and sweatpants, his hair slightly messy and damp he’d probably just showered.
“Hey,” he greeted, voice tired but softer than before. “Hey,” you replied, smiling. “I brought some soup for Hana. And for you too, if you’ve eaten nothing again.”
He chuckled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You caught me.” You walked inside, placing the food on the table as he followed you. The apartment was dim, faintly glowing from the TV light, cartoons still playing even though Hana was already asleep on the couch, curled up in her blanket.
“She fell asleep waiting for you,” Jungkook said quietly, watching his daughter.
You smiled. “She looks peaceful.”
He nodded, his eyes soft. “She sleeps better now, maybe because she knows things won’t fall apart anymore.” You turned to look at him, your chest tightening. He said it so sincerely that it made you ache.
“You’ve done a good job, Jungkook,” you said softly. He exhaled, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Some days, I feel like I’m just pretending I can handle it.”
“Then don’t pretend,” you whispered. “Just… let someone help you.” When his eyes lifted to meet yours, something flickered there something raw. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside felt far away.
-------
It started with small things after that. Jungkook began to text you more little things like “Hana says she misses you” or “Thanks for the dinner yesterday.”
He’d ask you to join them for movie nights, or for walks to the park. Sometimes, he’d bring Hana to your place just to “hang out,” even when he didn’t need help.
You’d catch him watching you when he thought you weren’t looking that same quiet stare, thoughtful and unreadable.
The tension between you both wasn’t loud; it was slow, steady, almost invisible to anyone else. But you felt it. Every time his hand brushed yours while reaching for a cup. Every time his gaze lingered a second too long. Every time you caught him smiling softly when you laughed.
-------
One rainy night, you three were sitting in your living room. Hana was asleep in the next room, her small snores faint. The rain pattered softly against the window, and the dim light made the air thick with unspoken things. Jungkook sat beside you on the couch, holding a cup of tea you’d made him. His fingers brushed yours when you handed it to him and this time, neither of you moved away.
“She really loves you,” he said quietly. “Hana. She says you make her feel safe.”
Your heart skipped. “She’s a sweet kid. You’ve raised her well.”
He smiled faintly. “Not alone, it seems.”
You turned to him, the corner of your lips twitching. “Are you saying you need me now, Jungkook?” He chuckled under his breath, but there was something serious in his eyes something softer, darker. “I think I already do.”
You froze for a second. His words weren’t flirtatious they were vulnerable, stripped of pretense. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words died on your tongue when his gaze lingered on your lips for just a heartbeat too long.
The air between you burned. Neither of you crossed the line that night. But you both felt it the shift, the pull and as he got up to leave, his hand brushed against yours again this time, deliberately. “Goodnight,” he murmured.
You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest, a soft smile curving your lips.
------
It was one of those evenings again the kind that stretched lazily into night. The faint hum of the city outside, the soft glow of your lamp, Hana’s laughter echoing from the next room where she was playing with her dolls. You and Jungkook were sitting by the window with mugs of tea, the quiet between you oddly comfortable. It had become a habit now — he’d drop by with Hana, stay for dinner, help clean up, and sometimes stay just a little longer than necessary.
Tonight felt different though. He looked at you more than usual, his gaze lingering as though trying to read something he’d missed before.
“Hey,” Jungkook said suddenly, his tone light but eyes sharp. “When was the last time you talked to your boyfriend?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “My… boyfriend?” “Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking slightly. “That guy I met once Jimin, right?” The mention of his name pulled something in your chest. You hadn’t seen Jimin much lately. He’d stopped calling after your quiet rejection that night.
“Oh, that.” You gave a faint smile. “We weren’t really official. Just… seeing each other, I guess.” Jungkook leaned back, taking a sip of his tea, eyes still on you. “So you’re not together anymore?”
You shook your head. “Not really. We stopped talking.” There was a flicker of something in his eyes surprise, maybe relief. He didn’t say anything for a moment, only nodded slowly.
“Did you like him?” he asked quietly. You hesitated. “I thought I did,” you said, watching the steam curl from your cup. “But… no. Not really.”
He tilted his head. “Why not?”
You laughed softly, but it sounded more tired than amused. “Because it didn’t feel real. He was kind, but I never felt connected to him. Not like-” You stopped yourself, your heart hammering in your chest.
“Not like what?” Jungkook asked, his voice low, almost careful. You looked up at him then his dark eyes meeting yours, steady, curious. You could feel the air between you shift, that slow burn returning again.
You smiled faintly, masking everything you wanted to say. “Not like how I feel when things matter.” He didn’t press. But his gaze lingered a moment longer before he nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“I get that,” he said quietly. “It’s rare to feel something real these days.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. The closeness was dizzying you could feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with rain and coffee.
“You know,” Jungkook said, his tone softer now, “I don’t really know much about you.”
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
He smiled faintly. “You know everything about me, my mess, my marriage, my kid, my bad days. But you… you never talk much about yourself.” You looked away, feeling your cheeks warm. “There’s not much to say.”
“I don’t believe that,” he murmured. His voice was low, sincere the kind that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t explain. He was looking at you like he wanted to understand you, like he was seeing you for the first time and you liked that. Too much.
“Then ask,” you whispered.
He chuckled softly, leaning closer. “Okay… what’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?” You tilted your head, eyes flicking to his lips for just a second before meeting his gaze again. “That I get attached too easily.”
The corner of his mouth curved into a small, knowing smile. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Maybe,” you said, smiling back. “But maybe I like danger.” His expression flickered amusement, curiosity, something darker. He leaned back again, his hand brushing yours as he set his cup down. For a moment, silence stretched only the faint sound of Hana humming in the next room.
“Maybe that’s what makes you… different,” Jungkook said finally, his voice low. “You feel things deeply.” You looked at him, heart pounding. “And you don’t?”
He smiled faintly, but there was something in his eyes something fragile. “Not until recently.” The words hung in the air between you. You didn’t need to ask what he meant, you already knew and for the first time, you felt that shift turn into something real.
-------
It was late evening. The clock ticked softly on the wall, the only sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The table was set two plates, one for you and one for Hana but the seat where Jungkook usually sat remained empty. He had messaged earlier: “Working late tonight. Don’t wait up.”
You sighed, staring at your phone for a moment longer than needed. The food was starting to cool. Hana sat quietly beside you, poking at her rice, her little brows furrowed. You could tell something was bothering her. “Hey,” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You okay?”
She looked up at you, her big eyes shimmering. “I miss Mom,” she said quietly. The words made your chest tighten not from sadness, but from something sharper. You forced a soft smile.
“I know, sweetheart,” you said carefully. “But sometimes, adults… make choices that are hard to understand.” Hana’s eyes dropped to her plate. “She said she’ll come see me soon. She calls me after school and brings me chocolates when I visit her.” You hesitated, feeling that familiar sting in your chest. You didn’t want to take that away from her, but hearing her defend Min-seo, the woman who had torn Jungkook apart made your stomach twist.
“Your mom loves you,” you said slowly, “but she’s… living a different life now, Hana. She made a decision to be somewhere else, with someone else. And sometimes, when people do that, they start to forget things they shouldn’t.”
Hana frowned. “Forget?” You nodded softly. “Like how to be there all the time. Like how to make you breakfast in the morning, or tuck you in at night.”
The little girl’s eyes grew wet, her lip trembling. “But she said she’ll always love me.”
You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Of course she does, honey. But love isn’t always enough to stay, you know? Your dad… he’s the one here, taking care of you every day. And I’m here too, right? We both love you very much.”
She sniffled and nodded, leaning against your arm. You wrapped an arm around her small shoulders, feeling her body relax into yours. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You don’t have to stop loving your mom, Hana. Just remember who’s here for you now.”
Her little voice came out muffled against your arm. “I like being with you more.” You smiled soft, careful, but somewhere deep inside, satisfaction curled like a secret flame.
“That means a lot to me,” you whispered. “You’re my favorite girl.” Hana smiled faintly, eyes half-closed, and soon after, she drifted to sleep on the couch.
You sat there for a while, holding her hand gently, your expression unreadable. Outside, rain began to fall again the sound filling the apartment with a calm that felt almost deceptive. You glanced toward the door Jungkook would soon walk through, and a thought flickered in your mind.
-------
The soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound that filled the quiet apartment. You sat across from Jungkook on the couch, the dim light of the living room casting golden shadows across his face. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie loose, a half-empty wine glass dangling lazily between his fingers. “Gosh,” he sighed, leaning back, head tipping against the couch. “A wine after working my ass off at the office feels so good.”
You smiled faintly, watching the way his jaw flexed as he took another slow sip. “You deserve it,” you said softly. He set the glass down and turned his gaze toward you warm, tired, and just a little too sincere. “Did Hana have her dinner?”
You nodded. “She did. She’s asleep now.”
Jungkook’s lips curved into a lazy smile. “We should go somewhere soon. All of us. It’s been a long time since we did something fun. Hana must be missing that.” The way he said we so casually, so naturally made something flutter quietly in your chest. You tried to play it off with a small laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah… I guess she would like that.”
He poured another glass for himself, then another. The night stretched on, quiet and soft, filled with the faint sound of the rain tapping against the windows and Jungkook’s voice lower now, a little slurred, his guard slipping away with every sip.
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you,” he murmured, staring into his glass, “but I’m grateful for you, Y/N.”
Your breath caught. He went on, voice barely above a whisper. “When everything was falling apart, when Min-seo left… when Hana was crying every night… you were just there. You helped me stand again. Helped Hana smile again.”
You didn’t know what to say. Words felt too small. You watched him, eyes tracing the softness in his expression the exhaustion, the quiet ache in his smile, the faint redness that wine had painted across his cheeks. You loved him. You had for a long time. Quietly, painfully, patiently. You loved how gentle he was with Hana, how his voice softened when he spoke to her, how he looked at you sometimes without realizing it, like you were something steady in his storm.
And now, sitting here, you could almost hear the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.
“Stop staring at me,” he said suddenly, his voice low, almost teasing but something about it made your breath hitch. “Like I mean something to you.”
You froze. Your gaze dropped to the floor, shame and longing tangling deep in your chest. “You should get some sleep,” you said quietly, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice.
He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Sleep,” he repeated. “Yeah, maybe I should. But…” He looked at you again, really looked at you and the air shifted. His eyes were dark, glossy with wine and something heavier.
“I don’t want to feel this, Y/N,” he murmured, each word sounding like a confession he’d been holding for too long. “But I think I’m falling for you.”
Your heart stopped. His gaze dropped, his voice roughening. “Even though it’s wrong.” You stared at him, speechless, your pulse echoing in your throat. You had imagined this moment before in stolen glances, in quiet dreams but hearing it out loud, feeling the weight of it between you, was something else entirely.
You took a slow breath, the kind that hurt on its way in. “Then…” You swallowed, your voice barely a whisper. “Then don’t stop yourself.”
In an instant, Jungkook closed the distance. His lips, softened by the wine and a deep, surprising earnestness, met yours. The kiss wasn't careful; it was a desperate, long-awaited admission from two people who had been circling each other in the dark for far too long.
The shock that first hit you quickly gave way to a consuming wave of desire a beautiful, fierce recognition of a wish finally coming true. You didn't just kiss him back; you leaned in fully, your hand instinctively rising to cup his jaw, your fingers brushing against the soft curve of his ear. The subtle scent of his cologne, mixed with the sharp, warm tang of the red wine, flooded your senses, anchoring you completely in the moment.
-------
The morning light crept gently through the half-drawn curtains, painting soft gold across the living room floor. The faint scent of wine still lingered in the air, the empty bottle on the table, two half-drunk glasses left from the night before. You stood by the kitchen counter, absentmindedly stirring a cup of coffee, trying to quiet the rush of thoughts in your head. The memory of last night replayed over and over Jungkook’s voice, low and unsteady, confessing words you had longed to hear.
“I think I’m falling for you.” You had barely slept. Not because of what happened, but because of what might come next.
The sound of soft footsteps behind you broke your thoughts. You turned to see Jungkook standing by the doorway, his hair a little messy, eyes heavy with sleep. He looked… lost. Like someone still trying to make sense of a dream he couldn’t shake off.
“Morning,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile.
He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Morning.”
For a moment, there was silence heavy, uncertain. The kind that filled every corner of the room. Then Jungkook took a step closer, his voice hesitant. “About last night…” Your heart skipped a beat. You looked up, meeting his eyes. They were soft but serious, a mix of fear and something rawer, deeper.
“I meant it,” he said. You froze.
“I remember,” he continued, his words trembling slightly. “What I said last night. And I meant every single word of it.” Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, he reached for your hand desperately, as if he was afraid you’d pull away. His grip was warm, trembling slightly.
“Don’t,” he said suddenly, voice breaking. “If you’re going to reject me, please… don’t say it.” Your heart clenched. The desperation in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were something he couldn’t afford to lose, made it hard to breathe.
He took a shaky breath, eyes locked on yours. “Just… give me a chance, Y/N. Please.”
You stood there, stunned. You didn’t know if he remembered everything, the way he confessed, the words that slipped out, the way you had looked at him but part of you didn’t care. Maybe he only remembered enough. Maybe fate had finally bent toward you.
For a moment, your heart wavered between guilt and something darker, triumph. The man you loved was standing before you, asking you to stay, asking you to try. You nodded slowly, hiding the flicker of a smile that threatened to show. “Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s… try.”
Relief washed over his face. Jungkook let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his thumb brushing lightly over your hand as if to make sure you were real and as he smiled a tired, hopeful, broken kind of smile you knew.
You had finally won.
-------
Days began blending into something warm and familiar, something dangerously close to what you’d once only dreamed of. Jungkook was around more than ever. He’d come over after work, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, looking exhausted but always soft when he saw you and it wasn’t just the casual visits anymore. There was something unspoken blooming between you both, quiet glances that lingered too long, laughter that felt too intimate, the way he’d touch your hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
He’d kiss you now sometimes out of nowhere. In the kitchen, while you were reaching for a glass; in the hallway, while you were saying goodbye; sometimes, right in the middle of your sentence. A quick, deep kiss that left you breathless and flushed, your thoughts scattered.
You’d push at his chest, half-laughing, half-shocked. “Jungkook!”
He’d just grin, voice low and teasing. “Couldn’t help it.”
And you secretly loved it that he couldn’t help it.
You could feel him changing, too. The man who once tiptoed around emotions was now bold confident in what he wanted, and he wanted you. The way his eyes found you in a crowded room, how he’d stand too close when you were talking, his hand always brushing yours, claiming space that had once been only friendly.
One night, when Hana had fallen asleep early after dinner, Jungkook was sitting beside you on the couch, scrolling through his phone as you folded laundry. The quiet hum of the night wrapped around you both.
“Y/N,” he said suddenly.
“Hmm?”
He looked up from his phone, a strange seriousness in his eyes. “You let Hana sleep with you again?”
You blinked. “She had a nightmare, Jungkook. She wanted to.”
He sighed, setting his phone aside and leaning back, head tilted slightly. “You spoil her too much,” he muttered, then glanced at you with a small, crooked smile. “I’m jealous.”
You turned toward him, surprised. “Jealous? Of your own daughter?”
“Yeah,” he said without hesitation, voice low. “She gets to sleep next to you, hug you… while I can’t.”
You froze, the words sinking in. He wasn’t teasing this time. His gaze held yours, steady, warm, and something darker flickering beneath it. Possessive. Your heart pounded as you tried to laugh it off. “You’re ridiculous.”
He smirked faintly, leaning closer. “Maybe. But I’m serious.” His hand brushed your arm, fingers tracing lightly up your skin until your breath hitched. “You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N.”
You turned your face away, smiling despite yourself, cheeks burning. “Stop saying things like that…”
He chuckled softly, his voice dropping just enough to make your chest tighten. “Why? You don’t like it?”
You looked at him, the playful glint in his eyes, the faint smirk tugging at his lips, the warmth radiating off him, and realized you didn’t just like it. You loved it. You loved how protective he’d become, how he’d frown when other men looked at you, how his arm would naturally slide around your waist in public as if to remind everyone you were his.
He made you feel wanted. Needed and somewhere deep down, the part of you that once schemed and waited was finally, content. You leaned back against the couch, close enough for his shoulder to brush yours. “You ask too many questions, Jungkook.”
He smirked, voice barely above a whisper. “Only because I care too much.” And when he turned to kiss you again slow and certain you didn’t stop him. Because this time, it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like home.
--------
You were rushing through the office, files clutched in your hands, laptop bag slung over your shoulder. The fluorescent lights reflected off the polished floors as you hurried toward the exit, your mind racing with deadlines and half-finished tasks. You had stayed late again longer than usual and now, with the night air settling outside, your exhaustion pressed against your bones.
“Y/N!” Jimin’s voice called out from behind you. You turned to see him jogging lightly, worry etched across his face.
“You okay?” he asked, concern lacing his tone. “You’ve been here forever. Need a drop home? I can take you.”
You hesitated. Your phone buzzed in your bag, a message from Jungkook: I’ll come pick you up. Don’t worry about leaving Hana alone. You paused, thumb hovering over the screen. You didn’t want to disturb him; Hana was asleep, and he had been tirelessly caring for her all day. The thought of making him leave her side tugged at your heart.
“Uh… thanks, Jimin,” you said finally, deciding. “That’d be great. I… I’ll be quick.”
His relieved smile warmed your chest. “Hop in,” he said, gesturing toward the car parked outside. You felt a flutter of nervousness as you climbed in, trying to ignore the tiny pang in your chest that came from leaving Jungkook behind.
------
When you finally stepped into your apartment, tired and half-dazed, your phone buzzed again. Jungkook.
Why are you with Jimin?
Your heart skipped. You hadn’t expected him to notice so quickly.
You hurriedly typed a reply: I was late… Jimin offered to drop me home. I didn’t want you to leave Hana.
A few moments passed before he responded: I see…
You felt your chest tighten as the door clicked behind you, and a shadow fell across the room. Jungkook stepped in, his dark eyes flicking between you and the bag in your hand. His expression was unreadable at first tense, unreadable, like he was holding back a storm.
“Jimin?” he asked, voice low.
You nodded, a little defensively. “He just… offered to help. I didn’t want to make you leave Hana.”
He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. “You… used to see him, right?” His words were careful, but you could feel the faint edge of jealousy lurking beneath the surface.
Your chest fluttered, a shiver of excitement traveling down your spine. He was jealous subtle, quiet, but it made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.
Before you could think too much, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, feeling his tension melt slightly into your touch. “Jungkook,” you whispered softly, pressing your forehead to his chest. “I only have my eyes on you.”
He exhaled slowly, the possessive edge in his voice softening as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. “Only me?” he murmured, voice low, almost a growl.
You smiled, hiding against him. “Only you,” you repeated, feeling the warmth of his body settle around you.
For a moment, silence wrapped you both, but it was the kind of quiet that spoke louder than words. You felt him relax against you, the jealousy fading into something more vulnerable, more human.
Maybe… you thought, your heart twisting in delight, Min-seo’s betrayal made him like this. He’s growing… possessive. Loving me. And I like it.
A slow, dark thrill ran through you, and you knew, with certainty, that he was yours entirely, and perhaps more than even he realized.
-------
You were sitting on the couch, Hana playing quietly in the corner, when Jungkook appeared in the doorway. His eyes flicked over you, lingering just a moment too long. Something about the way he carried himself, the slight slump in his shoulders, the deep crease between his brows made your chest tighten.
He came closer, sitting beside you, but not too close careful, tentative, as if measuring whether you would pull away.
“Y/N…” His voice was low, almost hesitant. “I… I don’t know if I should be doing this. Being with you.”
You tilted your head, curiosity and concern mixing in your chest. “What do you mean?”
He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. “I’m too old for you. You’re… you’re vibrant, young, full of life. I’ve been broken, I’ve made mistakes… and what if you lose interest in me too? Like Min-seo did?”
A pang of anger shot through you not at him, but at the audacity of Min-seo and the shadow she still cast over his heart. You reached out, gently brushing your hand against his cheek. He flinched slightly, but didn’t pull away.
“Min-seo?” you said softly, voice steady, tinged with defiance. “She was just… insecure. That’s all. She wasn’t confident in herself, in the relationship, in what she had with you. And what did she do? She cheated. That was her choice. Not yours.”
His eyes darkened, searching yours as if trying to find some truth he couldn’t quite believe.
You leaned closer, heart pounding, your voice dropping into something intimate, something meant only for him. “I… I love you, Jungkook. I’ve loved you for a long time. Older men like you… they’re my type. Someone who’s strong, someone who’s been through life, someone who knows what they want. I want you. Only you.”
His lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he exhaled slowly, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over his face. His hand found yours, gripping it firmly, possessively. The small, heated pressure of his fingers sent a shiver down your spine.
“You really mean that?” he murmured, voice low and rough.
“I do,” you whispered, leaning closer until your shoulders brushed. “Every word. Don’t ever doubt it.”
For a long moment, the room was silent, save for Hana’s soft giggles and the faint hum of the city outside. But the tension between you the quiet, simmering electricity was palpable, wrapping around you both like a storm.
Then he moved, slowly, deliberately, closing the distance just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “I… I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his voice raw. “Not now. Not ever.”
You smiled, heart fluttering, a warmth spreading through your chest. “You won’t,” you said confidently. “Because you’re mine now.”
A small, dark chuckle escaped him. “I don’t know if I deserve that,” he murmured, but the possessive edge in his grip, the way he lingered so close, said otherwise.
And you couldn’t help the thrill that ran through you, knowing that his heart, his mind, even his jealousy, were all slowly, irrevocably yours.
“You do,” you whispered back, pressing your hand against his chest. “All of you. And I’ll make sure you know it every single day.”
-I did not write these, I just made a list so it’s more organized on what I’m planning to read all credits go to these amazing authors, this is KINDA a small list so I’m most likely gonna add more to it!💜 (Currently Editing)
✅-Completed Reading
Friends-to-Lovers
Bulls Eye- (Oneshot 9k)
A Jar full of Us-(Oneshot 10k)
If I was your boyfriend-(Oneshot 10k)
The Farmhouse-(10 part series, Small town Au)
Closer-(2 part series 47k)
Guilty as sin-(3 part series,ONGOING,Brotherinlawxwidowed)
Gradation- (10 part series,FWB)
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𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... your angel of a boyfriend always respected your wishes and boundaries. but what happens when you feel your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground?
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [smut!] teasing, making out, mentions of dry humping, fingering, reader's first time, softdom!gguk × inexperienced!reader, gentle sex, mentions of discomfort during penetration.
▸ 𝓔𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮
▸ 𝔀.𝓬: 2𝓴 +
There were certain things you absolutely loved about your boyfriend, like the way his eyes lit up in excitement when you cooked him his favourite meal, or the way his natural non-toxic masculine energy immediately put you at ease, making you slide into your soft feminine energy naturally. This was probably one of the first things you noticed even before you got together, slowly becoming aware of how well you fit into a balanced dynamic that you both felt comfortable in.
But, most of all, you loved the way he never pushed you to do things you weren't keen on doing, never made you feel like you had to something for him "because he said so", never forced anything. Always treated you so well, so gently, so lovingly. He held you at night tight enough like he was afraid you would slip from his arms, but also so delicately like he was scared he could break you if he made a tiny mistake, the same way glass shatters to the ground if you're not careful enough.
So it shouldn't have been a surprise when you told him you weren't ready to have sex just yet, tears striking down your face in fear he would leave you right then and there, and he didn't even appear to be annoyed by that. If anything, he ran you a warm bubble bath, hugging you from behind while cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings to reassure you that no, he wouldn't leave you for that and yes, he would wait as long as you needed.
"Thank you," you had whispered, sniffling softly as the sobs finally subdued. Jungkook gathered the bubbles in the palm of his hand, blowing them in your face. His expression visibly relaxed as you giggled, wiping the scented bubbles that landed on the tip of your nose.
"Princess, I don't want you to feel pressured about doing anything with me, got that? I could never leave you, I love you too much. Also, your cute little face got me wrapped around your pinky."
A few months had passed from that moment, and he had kept his promise. This doesn’t mean that you never shared moments of intimacy, but rather that you both opted for things that you liked and were comfortable in, like grinding while making out, or giving and receiving oral. And you always felt so at ease, so sure that he would never take advantage of you in any way or form.
But as time went on, you felt your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground: it all started with following him on set, watching mesmerized as he posed for the camera. He was magnificent in his expressions, in his demeanor, in the way he rocked the outfits given by the CK company. He was confident, alluring, his muscles moving in a way that made you feel tingly all over. His eyes caught yours, crouched on the chair behind the camera, trying to be invisible to the eyes of all the professionals that hurriedly walked around you. You watched as a weird glint sparkled in his eyes, his lips curling in a knowing smirk briefly before he snapped back into character, leaving you a flustered, breathless mess. You weren’t entirely sure, but after that it looked like he posed even sexier for the camera, manipulating his body so that it could allure you in the same way a siren’s song allures pirates before devouring them. and god, did it work…
You shifted around uncomfortably, fiddling with your phone, looking around at anything to tear your eyes from your boyfriend, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. and Jungkook took notice of every effort you made to hide your need, quite amused by it all. Soon after, the director called for the end of the day, screaming loud enough for everyone to hear “good job, guys, see you tomorrow!”, clapping his hands and stopping by the photographer to discuss something about the lightning of some photos.
Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, stretching his body to relax his tensed limbs before making his way to you, chuckling darkly when he noticed you acting like you weren’t paying any attention to him. he leaned over you, trapping you between his arms as his lips hovered your ear. “What's wrong, princess?” he purred, nibbling softly your earlobe. Your breath struck in your throat at his sultry tone, and you prayed he couldn’t hear your heart thrumming in your chest, or your hands shaking by your side. You felt like you were floating in a bubble where nothing mattered aside from his presence, and his musky cologne that clouded your senses and made your head dizzy. You closed your eyes breathing it in, parting your lips slightly to let out a soft breath.
Jungkook hummed pleased at your responsiveness, cupping your jaw with his warm hand. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, staring at it almost as if hypnotised by his own action, pulling it down softly before murmuring “let’s go home, princess”, a tinge of urgency lacing his words.
The drive home was probably the quickest you’ve ever been in, with Jungkook’s foot slamming the pedal to the ground, one hand grabbing possessively your thigh and fingers touching where you most need him with featherlight pressure. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway Jungkook was quick to pick you up and bring you inside, pushing your back against the door as soon as it closed behind you.
His lips immediately found yours, pulling you into a desperate kiss. He gently pulled your hair at the back of your neck, angling your face better in order to deepen the kiss. You moaned, the sound swallowed by your boyfriend’s lips, hands tugging at his shirt to take it off. Jungkook pulled back slightly, groaning at the sight of your swollen red lips and hooded eyes. “Bedroom?” he asked, throwing his shirt on the ground.
“Yes, please” you whispered, following him around the house as more kissing and more stripping occurred, ending up in the bedroom already half naked and even more worked up than before. You wiggled out of the shirt that covered your chest and your panties-clad bottom, straddling your boyfriend’s lap as he sat against the headboard.
“C’mon, princess, you know what to do” he said, hands holding your thighs firmly while you rocked back and forth, whimpering as his still clothed boner provided the perfect friction against your aching clit. “Want… more,” you cried out, hips rutting desperately. Jungkook’s lips latched on your skin, sucking deep purple spots all over your neck and collarbones. “Yeah?” he asked against your flesh, “what is it that you want, princess?”
Your cheeks burned at the embarrassment, yet it didn’t stop you from whimpering “want you inside me”. You felt your boyfriend’s body tense beneath you, his kissing stopping on the spot. His hand cupped your jaw, keeping you in place as his eyes locked with yours. “What did you say, princess?”
If possible, you felt your whole body catch on fire just from his tone alone, trying to divert your gaze as you repeated shyly “want… want you inside me. Please”. You swore you felt his cock throbbing at your words, his pupils completely blown out in lust. The fingers that held your jaw twitched briefly before he asked “you’re sure, princess?”, struggling to hide the restraint in his voice. You nodded, rocking your hips tentatively to spur him on.
He bit his lip, trying to hold back the smile that threatened to break over his face. He failed at that, though, and a happy giggle escaped his lips as he switched your position, letting you fall on the soft pillows, your back landing on the mattress. He showered your face in excited kisses before he finally calmed down, a serious expression on his face. “Promise you’ll tell me if I'm hurting you or if you want to stop”. You smiled, nodding your head. “Pinky promise”. And just like that he was on you again, reaching a hand behind your back to flick your bra off your chest, sighing in pleasure once he cupped your breast in his hand, gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.
“Always looking so pretty,” he purred, reaching a hand down to unzip his pants, trying to take some pressure off his painfully hard member. He groaned, muttering a small “fuck,” before lowering his head on your torso, kissing his way down all the way to your panties. He pressed a hand on your thigh, keeping you spread over in front of his eyes. He smirked pleased at the wet patch on the baby blue fabric of your thong, rubbing his thumb up and down your clothed slit, then pressing his finger on your clit. “Oh fuck- please, Kook,” you moaned, bucking your hips up to gain some more friction.
“Patience, princess,” he whispered, blowing softly on your clothed sex. You gasped at the feeling, trying to press your thighs back together, but you were stopped by Jungkook’s firm grasp that pinned you to the bed. “How sensitive,” he chuckled, teasingly licking a stripe up the drenched fabric. You whimpered, a string of pleas falling repeatedly from your plush lips as you grew progressively more desperate for more.
“Oh I know, I know, princess,” he cooed, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down, throwing them somewhere on the floor. “Gonna make you feel so nice,” he continued, stopping to admire your glistening folds, all wet and leaking just for him. He ran his pointer finger between your folds, gathering your moisture before slowly slipping the finger in.
“Oh-” you gasped, closing your eyes as Jungkook’s finger stroked your walls, curling it just right. “Gonna put another one in,” he murmured, slipping another finger in. A loud moan escaped your lips, spurring your boyfriend to move in quicker and deeper movements, his fingers hitting repeatedly your g-spot almost as if in a quest to let you release as many sounds as possible. Slick sounds and ragged breaths filled the room, your mind clouding into a hazy state. The bands in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment now, your walls fluttering around Jungkook’s fingers.
Said man, of course, wanted to toy with you a little longer before giving you the relief you needed, and that’s why he immediately pulled his fingers out, chucking darkly at your disappointed whines. He slipped the same two fingers in his mouth, moaning around them as your juices dripped on his tongue. “Always taste so good,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Think you’re ready for me, princess?”
You nodded eagerly, though you couldn’t hide the nervousness pricking at the back of your neck. “Can you just… be gentle? Like, a lot? Pretty please”.
“Of course, princess, you don’t even have to ask. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, yeah?” of course there was no doubt that Jungkook already planned on taking it easy with you, nevertheless the confirmation was much needed for you, helping your nerves ease even a tiny bit.
The man sat back on his knees, taking off his pants and briefs in one go. Even though it wasn’t the first time you had seen him completely naked, you couldn’t help but stare at him mesmerised. He was just that good looking, his body built the same way the greeks carved their most beloved statues. Your mouth ran dry at the sight, and your hands itched to explore every inch of flesh.
Jungkook leaned back down, caging your head between his arms. He stroked your cheek lovingly, kissing you softly before asking “Do you want me to put a condom on?”
You shook your head, whispering “I’m still on the pill, it’s fine. Wanna feel you raw”. Your boyfriend closed his eyes at the confession, your desire of feeling him bare both arousing and touching. “Okay,” his hand reached between your bodies, holding his member in a firm grasp as he ran his almost purplish tip over your folds, gathering your wetness.
“Oh god,” you choked out, your walls clenching around nothing. Finally, Jungkook aligned his cock with your entrance, looking at your face one last time before slowly pushing it in, holding you closer to his chest as you gasped in discomfort. “Kook…ngh, wait…”
“I got you, princess,” he cooed, stopping his motion immediately. He stroked your hair, and he didn’t even wince when you bit his bicep to ignore the discomfort between your hips. “‘s alright, love. I promise it’s gonna feel nice really soon, hold tight for me”.
You nodded, taking a shaky breath in before your boyfriend pushed a couple more inches or so inside you, settling deep before he stilled his movements, waiting for you to give him permission to do anything. Despite the uncomfortable sensation, you couldn’t ignore how full you felt and how good it felt to have him nestled inside your walls completely bare, allowing you to feel even the littlest throb. Meanwhile, your angel of a boyfriend did everything in his hold to distract you, from kissing your lips to nibbling your earlobe, wanting you to feel good yet feeling guilty because he couldn’t do anything to let the pain subside faster.
“Mmh- Kook… I think you can move now,” you croaked out, catching Jungkook’s attention. The man whispered a soft “okay,” then locked your lips in a slow and passionate kiss as he began moving, pulling out almost entirely before pushing back in, over and over again. Soon, you whimpers of discomfort turned into moans of pleasure, and Jungkook followed you by example. Noises of skin slapping skin echoed in the bedroom, almost harmonising with your moans and grunts.
“Princess… can I- fuck, can I go faster?” you nodded again, throwing your head against the pillows as Jungkook’s hips picked up their pace, almost snapping against your body. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jaw hanging low while your boyfriend got drunk on the sight, hissing as he felt himself approaching his orgasm at light’s speed. His hand reached down, toying with your clit to bring you closer to your finish line. However, he almost lost it all when you let out a loud, almost pornographic, moan, your walls sucking him in greedily.
His brows furrowed in concentration, determined to make you cum before he did. “C’mon, princess, give it to me,” he grunted, applying the right pressure to your clit to make you completely unravel under him, whimpering and shaking as your walls fluttered around his dick. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, pulling out just in time to spill his warm milky white cum on your tummy, decorating your skin in ropes of white.
He laid beside you with a huff, scanning your body with his eyes to check that everything was alright. He took a strand of hair falling onto your eyes and lovingly pushed it behind your ear, smiling at you softly as you opened your eyes back. “Doing alright, love?”
You hummed, feeling too weak to mutter out anything. Your body still shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you felt your sensitive sex still pulsing uncomfortably, but overall you felt great, and your mind wasn’t running miles per hour for once.
Jungkook pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight. “C’mon, I’ll run us a bath. You’ve been so good, I love you so much, princess.”
