boy's a liar
summary: you've been at odds with the crown prince ever since you were children, but feelings change and the light you see him in changes too. how long can you keep up this pretense of hatred? word count: 3.7k warnings: cherry!koo bc that deserves a warning, kind of some emotional constipation?, explicit smut– b**bie fondling, or*l f receiving, f-ngering, missionary, hitting it from the back, unprotected s*x (you better not), dw theres aftercare :)
what's the point of crying? it was never even love did you ever want me? was i ever good enough?
You hate how good he looks right now, simply leaning against the wall, an aloof smile on his pretty face as he holds court with his infuriating charm and ever bright personality. The dukes and duchesses eat up his every admission and hang onto every word of his sentences, making you roll your eyes as you watch them from across the room.
He holds a fluke of champagne in his hand, half full despite your knowing of his dislike of the liquor.
As if feeling your gaze on him, his eyes lift and wander curiously across the room before meeting yours. Expecting you to back down and look away, a look of pleasant surprise comes across his face when you hold his stare.
Your heart skips under his watchful gaze, his eyes caressing your skin from the tips of your fingers to your covered shoulders and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
His eyes flick back up to yours, and you realise that not once throughout his assessment of you did he pause his conversation with his company. His mouth continues to move and the men and women crowded around him take no notice that his attention is elsewhere- on you.
A manicured hand slides up his chest, pretentious and outright trying to state its claim on him.
You'd seen her pin straight blonde hair before, at balls and other social events, but she never deserved more than a polite smile from you- she was just another social climber wrapped in faux elegance.
His face betrays no emotion, but his eyes hold yours from across the room as if gauging your reaction. He watches you lazily with an air of arrogance, and your hands buzz with the desire to slap him across his irritating face.
As if you could care less who he had on his arm.
You regard each other, waiting to see who will look away first.
It won't be you.
His mouth tugs up in a smile, as if sensing the fire burning within you, which burns infinitely hotter seeing his amused face.
Damn him.
"This looks like the most intense staring contest I've ever seen."
Dark eyes move away first, his attention fixing back on his company and you smile as you turn to the deep voice.
"Namjoon," you nod up at the tall duke.
His dimple peeks out as he smiles down at you, making a comment about how comfortable you look perched on the couch before joining you.
"So what's with you and the prince? I can feel the sexual tension rolling off of you."
Ever the playful instigator, you roll your eyes at his blatant need to gossip.
You've known Namjoon since you were both children, before you had to wear the burden of responsibility that came with your nobilities. When you could play around in the courtyard or sneak into the kitchen and steal from the cookie jar.
Growing up together, you knew you could always depend on him to run away with you from the over-the-top galas or the boring dinners.
While the socialites interacted amongst themselves, the two of you would be in the corner of the room judging anyone and everyone.
There was a small circle of people you considered acquaintances, and an even smaller circle of people you could call friends.
But you'd take a handful of genuine people over dozens of superficial friendships anyway.
"Nothing's up with us, you know how much I hate him."
Namjoon regards you with a skeptical look that you ignore, waving down one of the catering staff and plucking an hors d'oeuvres off the tray.
"I'm not buying it," he hums, taking one for himself.
"I see the way you've been looking at each other lately- it definitely doesn't look like hate."
You narrow your eyes at him, despite wondering yourself how much truth his words carry.
Perhaps it was because he knew you so well, knew of the mutual dislike you and the prince held for each other ever since you were children.
In all honesty, you're not sure where exactly your indifference came from but for as long as you can remember, the crown prince has always been the one you find yourself bantering with.
Although you don't carry any real enmity towards him, you found it easier to annoy each other with jabs and jests than to not.
He was the crown prince, and while you held a title of nobility yourself, he was always just one level above you, he always would be.
Perhaps it was the fact that he knew how important he was, or at least carried himself that way. He was expected to act a certain way, and while he did most of the time, he also liked to rebel in the smallest of ways, pushing boundaries until someone was bound to break.
But he was a royal, very few people could touch him, and he knew that. He knew he was untouchable.
He liked to play games, finding the most amusement in playing them with you. So casually cruel in the name of being honest, his favourite pastime was riling you up until you'd snap at him, enjoying your fire when it was directed at him.
As children, it was all fairly innocent- he'd pull on your braids and you'd steal his extra piece of panna cotta when he wasn't looking. As you got older, more avenues opened up for you to mess with each other.
Every courtier or suitor would be driven away by the prince's incessant meddling, spewing lies about how you grew horns and turned into a beast at night or that your farts smelled like mouldy bread. While no one actually believed him, you never heard back from them after the night.
It's almost comical how palace staff are warned when the two of you are under the same roof, made to be weary of the ultimate prank war that you've been in your whole lives.
Endless teasing and outright arrogance made his face ever so punchable.
While you ran in the same tight-knit circle and saw each other more often than not, you weren't as close as you were with the others.
Now that you were older, more responsibility weighed you down, and you were both expected to play your parts.
The ever obedient daughter, you played yours while Jungkook got to mess around and spew nonsense about his duties that everyone ate up because they weren't exactly listening, too busy fawning over his charming looks and playboy personality.
It didn't help that he was actually good looking.
Thinking back to Namjoon's words, you wonder how that could ever be true. If anything, after the events that had perspired a few weeks ago, he should only be able to see the absolute bitterness in your eyes when you see the crown prince.
"Trust me, Joon, we're definitely not in love."
The buzz of the ballroom was finally beginning to dwindle, dukes and marquesses alike starting to call it a night, bidding their goodbyes to the royal family before making their way out.
You'd spent most of the night with Namjoon, snickering as you watched people bend over backwards trying to force some semblance of elegance.
The corridors were empty now, save for the staff passing through packing up the event.
After using the washroom, you wander down the hallways, the lighting dim enough to confuse your tired and faintly tipsy brain.
Turning one of the corners, you stop short upon seeing a certain head of dark hair leaning against the opposite wall.
"Your highness," you bow, miscalculating the action and fumbling slightly before you right yourself, giggling quietly to yourself.
Was it your imagination or did the prince's arms flinch forward as if ready to catch you?
"So formal," the prince murmurs, standing upright and stalking forwards to where you were stood.
He offers his arm and for some reason you hesitate, wondering whether touching him was a particularly good idea. But then he gazes down at you with those soft eyes, no malice hidden behind them, and you find yourself taking his arm anyway.
"I'll escort you to your room."
"How noble of you."
"You know me, always saving pretty damsels and slaying dragons."
You snicker. He laughs.
The endless walk through the corridors is silent, neither of you having anything of real importance to say to each other.
The question of why the prince had been in the corridor in the first place lingers in your mind, but you've come to know better than to expect him to answer your questions.
When you reach the landing of the third floor, the prince's steps slow until you've reached just outside your door.
You open it without a word, strolling inside, ready to be done with the night and sleep all the way through to brunch.
The prince lingers in the doorway and you see him thinking over something in his head through the reflection of your vanity mirror.
"What is it Jungkook?"
The use of his name so casually has him turning his head up at you, a grin forming on his face.
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe.
His eyes follow you as you toe off your shoes, throwing them rather carelessly to the foot of your dresser. Sitting down at your vanity, you grab a wipe, swiping at your eyes to remove your makeup as you contemplate your answer.
"You know how I feel about those social events," you say.
He did.
On the off chance you felt like getting along, the two of you would sneak away in the middle of galas or dinners, running off to the gardens under the cover of darkness and hiding where no one could find you.
Just for a few hours, you could leave behind all the ass kissing and artificiality and pretend that you weren't who you were.
You'd skip rocks across the pond, mock nobility, or listen to Jungkook and his endless knowledge about constellations and argue over where they were in the sky.
Stolen moments like those- you'd never tell him- but you saved them for the bad days.
Movement in the mirror has your eyes meeting his in the reflection, watching as he approaches from behind.
He reaches a tentative hand up to unclasp the necklace you had been fumbling with, his warm touch leaving tingles when his fingers brush against the skin of your neck.
"Thanks."
Was your voice always this breathy?
"What about yourself? That pretty blonde make it worth your while?"
You hate the unfamiliar feeling the thought of him spending time with another girl brings, but you'd sooner take it to the grave than acknowledge it.
"She can't seem to take the hint that I'm not interested," he shrugs, silently removing the pins from your hair.
"But you're always interested," you tease.
As the crown prince, he obviously couldn't sleep around. But the rules never said anything about casual flings where he could woo girls with his flirty words and kick them to the curb when he was bored.
Growing up, people rarely saw him for more than being their next ruler. Girls saw him as something they could conquer, dig their claws into and hang on his arm and pray they became relevant.
Sure he was arrogant and cocky, but people seemed to forget he was a human being.
While you wouldn't hesitate to push him in the pool or leave him locked out in the snow, a part of you felt for him. He had never found a meaningful connection with anyone, and even if he kept up the pre-tense of the heartbreaker prince there was a secret romantic hidden in his playboy persona.
"Feelings change."
Oddly cryptic and vague.
"Did you want something, Jungkook? I'm rather tired."
Coming to a stand, you reach behind your back for the strings of your dress. You had a lady in waiting who would have been helping you, but you'd all but threatened Marie to retire early for the night, knowing how hard she worked to making you look presentable earlier.
Jungkook's hands beat you to it, tugging lightly on the ribbon to free you.
"Just wanted to see you."
Again, oddly cryptic and vague.
As he unlaces your corset, you can't help the heavy breath that escapes you once your lungs aren't being constantly squeezed by the garment.
Your eyes clash in the mirror, not a word leaving either of you as the straps of your dress are pushed down your shoulders, the fabric pooling by your waist.
You're quite aware that your front is bared, your nipples hardening in the cool air. Your breath becomes laboured as you anticipate his next move. Though, his eyes never stray from yours, holding your gaze as the tension in the room builds.
"Jungkook-"
The word comes out in a breathy whimper before he tilts your head and crashes his mouth to yours. You feel the groan in his throat as he claims your mouth with his, your tongues clashing for dominance.
A large palm comes up and cups your breast, squeezing the flesh and drawing a moan from you. He twists a hardened bud between his thumb and finger before giving the same attention to the other.
In a blur, the rest of your dress is on the ground and Jungkook has you pinned on the bed as his mouth explores your neck.
He nips and kisses at your skin- sometimes you wonder if he leaves marks because he knows you'll have to cover them up.
"Should've known you only came here for this," you grit out just as he reaches your breasts. Taking a breast into his mouth, his wet and warm tongue circles around your hardened bud before sucking hard.
He comes away with a lewd pop, and the image of him with saliva glistening on his mouth makes you just that much more aroused.
"Didn't seem to be a problem last week when you were coming around my cock," he shoots back, moving down your body until he's kneeling between your spread thighs.
Despite his image of poise and virtue, his mouth could be equally as filthy.
"Tell me to stop and it stops."
You don't.
He smiles.
Leaning down, he places open mouth kisses against the inside of your thighs, always inching closer and never reaching exactly where you want him.
You slide your hands into his hair, palming the soft cherry coloured strands- another one of his acts of rebellion.
You open your mouth to protest, the words stolen out of your mouth by Jungkook finally dragging his tongue up your centre, the groan he lets out vibrating against you and making you shudder.
He eats you like a man starved, neither of you caring how sloppy it is, not when it feels so good and you taste so sweet. Hiking your thighs up over his shoulders, Jungkook devours you, showing no mercy as he slides two fingers into you with ease.
They stretch you out deliciously, and when he curls them just right he hits that spot that has you seeing stars.
The feeling of him pumping into you along with the way he abuses your swollen nub with his mouth brings you to an orgasm embarrassingly quick.
Waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes squeezing closed as Jungkook helps you ride out your orgasm.
The crown prince emerges from between your legs, wide grin on his mouth as your arousal coats his chin and all around his lips.
"You good?" he asks, kissing the inside of your knee before sitting up.
"Mhm."
He leans forward, capturing your mouth in his once more. You sit up, unbuttoning his dress shirt impatiently while he chuckles into the kiss at your eagerness.
The shirt falls away, revealing smooth skin upon smooth skin. The prince can't help but smirk against your lips at how you all but spill drool onto his stomach. His toned, chiseled stomach.
You push a hand against his chest and throw a leg around his waist to turn the prince until he's laying against your pillows and you're above him straddling his hips.
The sudden confidence has his face lighting up in surprise, a complaint nowhere to be found as he places his palms on your waist, his touch searing against your skin.
But oh so gentle.
With hooded eyes, the crown prince watches the way your head tips back and your lips part in a soft sigh when you roll your hips against him, definitely feeling the growing bulge beneath you.
He takes the opportunity to lean forward and take a breast in his mouth, his other hand snaking up to the back of your neck and holding you to him.
You don't know exactly how you found yourselves in this unlikely predicament. The first time it'd happened was the prince's birthday. You'd gotten so angry at him for crashing yet another date with one of your suitors earlier in the week, and his only response was to kiss you right then and there.
One thing led to another until you were both laying spent against the bed, chests heaving as you came to terms with what exactly had just happened.
You spent the week avoiding each other as much as you could, until you found yourself in bed with the prince again.
And so begun the sneaking around and the late night shenanigans. Though, where anyone else was concerned, you still couldn't stand each other.
You both knew it shouldn't have gone on for this long, but somehow you couldn't find it in yourselves to care.
Finding yourself on your back again, you look up at the crown prince as he kneels between your spread thighs. His pants are off now, lying somewhere forgotten with the rest of your clothes.
He stares down at you with hooded eyes mirroring that of your own before reaching into his boxers and pulling out his thick, hard length.
The sight of it alone has you whining, wanting it in you. You bite your lip when Jungkook when he rubs the swollen head against your folds, spreading his pre-cum and your own arousal around.
"We still good, pretty?"
You all but scream yes, nodding desperately.
Jungkook finally gives you what you want, positioning himself at your entrance and slowly pushing in. A hand on you hip rubs soothingly as he moves in inch by glorious inch. He hisses about how tight you are, eyes squeezing shut.
Despite the number of times he's taken you, you can never quite get used to just how big he is. The stretch borders on pleasure and pain, leaving you breathless as Jungkook bottoms out.
He waits patiently for you to get used to him, hands holding your waist and squeezing gently.
When you give him the go-ahead Jungkook starts to move, drawing his hips back just to push in again. The breathy moans that leave your mouth only spur him on as he thrusts into you.
It feels so good, he feels so good. The way he moves in you, just the right amount of rough and carefulness, makes him one of the most enjoyable partners you've had in- well ever.
By the time you're nearing your second orgasm of the night, Jungkook is nowhere near done with you.
Flipping you onto your stomach, he draws your hips up until you're on your knees, ass in the air, before Jungkook enters you again.
In this position, his thrusts hit deeper, reaching places no one else has reached and making you almost lightheaded.
You crash headfirst into Nirvana, body twitching as pleasure floods your senses. Your legs threaten to give out but Jungkook holds you up, continuing his to move behind you.
The overstimulation is just bearable, and when he slaps your ass you have to stop yourself from screaming.
"Fuck baby, I'm close-"
The whimper in his voice makes you move your ass back on him, meeting his thrusts and grinding against him.
His hips stutter before he stills completely, spilling himself deep inside you with a guttural moan.
The two of you have always been safe when it comes to sex, despite never wearing condoms. You have measures in place to make sure you don't end up in the papers with the next royal scandal.
You whine when he pulls out, feeling empty without his presence. You collapse on the bed, sighing as you come down from the high.
You hear him walk to your bathroom and then you feel his warmth behind you again.
Despite all his cruelty, he cleans you up with a warm cloth, his movements gentle.
You thank him awkwardly, your words ending in a yawn that has him chuckling from somewhere in the room.
He flicks the light switch off, submerging the room in darkness before coming down to lay beside you in bed.
Turning your head, you peer up at him, the light from the moon hitting his face perfectly and making him look like your worst mistake personified.
You don't exchange a single word as you cuddle up to his chest, his arm snaking around you and holding you closer. You relish in his warmth, pressing your cheek against his bare skin, closing your eyes and listening to his breathing even out.
For some reason, he makes you feel safe.
In this afterglow, where all your swords and armour are left on the ground, and you only see each other as you are- you wish you could stay like this always.
You take in his presence, knowing that you'll wake up in the morning and he won't be beside you.
He never is.
But what's the point of crying? It was never even love.
You knew that.
unedited :) hope you liked it
