#maladaptivejeon

[maladaptivejeon]

𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿(𝕡𝕥. 𝕠𝕟𝕖)

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

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

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

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

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

He could work with that. 

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

“Uhhuh.”

“Isn’t that a dead language?”

“Yeah, officially.”

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

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

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

Refreshing... But unnatural.

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

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

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

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

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

He raises an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to?”

She shrugs again. 

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

Whatever?

End the interview?!

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

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

“Uh…”

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

“Is this the one with the…”

“Yeah…”

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

“... that’s the one.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re hired.”

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

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

“Right…”

“Mhm…”

“I’m trying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, fine, I accept.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, interesting -”

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

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

This will be fine. This will be great.

And it is. 

To a certain extent. 

The first few months are… clumsy. 

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

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

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

Jungkook stares back at her with wide saucer eyes.

She sighs back. 

“You haven’t hired…”

“I haven’t hired any…”

“Yet…”

“Yet…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She walked away, that was a yes. 

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

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

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

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

“Have you heard of bills?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

“Do you need any input from me?”

“Well, should we?”

She shook her head. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

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

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

Namjoon was in the same boat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why does Jungkook know so much about stockings? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” Jungkook struggled to follow.

“That’s exactly what I said.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N scoffed again, but Jimin ignored her. 

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

Y/N nodded, she approved.

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

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

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

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

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

“Enough! Stop talking about me!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Two hours are up. I’m going home.”

“Let me call a cab.” Jungkook offered. 

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

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

—

The first real hiccup was four months in. 

Jungkook had a panic attack at the office. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, to his shock, it’s there.

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

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

His chest softens a bit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you hugging yourself?”

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

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

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

“Come on.” 

He stares at her hand, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, she hums. 

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

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

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

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

She nods. 

“Fine by me.”

“You do not mention this to anyone.” 

“Fine.”

Silence.

“Can I leave?”

He nods, by god, does he nod…

—

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

Y/N has a conniption at the welcome desk. 

“This is UNACCEPTABLE -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong, so wrong.

Glares, no - daggers shot in his direction. 

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

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

She held up her hand, eyes closed. 

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

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

“We’re not going to lose-“

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

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

“- That is the dumbest idea ever.”

Uhhhh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to apologize for that?”

Voice low, patient.

“W-what?”

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

“Are. You. Going. To. Apologize?”

“About what?”

“You already got two chances, Y/n.”

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

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

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said dumb.”

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

Jungkook being mad at her? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to run through the opening statements-“

“We can do that in the pool.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blushed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong, wrong, wrong, everything is wrong -

Until-

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

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

It’s the sweetest burn. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He remembers the exact conversation that he had with Jimin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out!” 

“Right! Sorry!”

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

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

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

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

This was… worst case scenario. 

Absolute worst case scenario. 

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

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

He knew something else that could take the edge off.

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

It hurt to touch, truly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes squint, his ears flicker. 

“Oh my god, you sneaky little -”

She immediately leans back defensively. 

“I didn’t say anything!”

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

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

“Oh, you sneaky, opportunistic -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean it.”

“Oh, Y/N. Please, you don’t-”

“I feel things.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She seems to have figured him out. 

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

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

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

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

“Once.”

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

He just cannot piece her together. 

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

“Have you had boyfriends?” 

“I could actually sue you.” 

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

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

Something in his chest flutters.

“Y/N, come on, we gotta go to bed -”

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

Nothing readable in her expression. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her small mouth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His TMJ locks a bit. 

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, that’s it-”

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

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

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

“Who’s Minji?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he survives this, he can survive anything. 

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

She watches him as she nods, retreats. 

Good. 

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

“Who is….” He starts to ask.

“Just ignore them.”

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

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

Great. 

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

Y/N just keeps eating her honeydew. Doesn’t even seem to realize they’re there.

That prompts them to turn their attention to Jungkook.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Depression himself. You’d think a person would at least learn how to tie a rope in the three years it takes to get through law school.” 

Jungkook is almost too taken back to be offended. Like, Jesus. That’s evil. 

“But good to see the failures sweeping themselves out of our scene. You guys suit charity work way more. Leave the billion dollar deals to us.” 

But he can’t judge. He remembers, vividly, a time when he spoke to people like that. 

He almost feels bad.

He’d actually feel bad for if it weren’t for the fact that they started turning their escalation on Y/N.

“You know, though, don’t you?” The douchebag said to Jungkook. “You’re in really good company. I’m sure you’ve asked her why she leaves every single job she’s ever had after her first case, right?”

“I need you to go back to your own table-“

“Don’t tell me you haven’t asked yet! Go ahead Y/N, enlighten him on your antics!”

Jungkook slides his seat out and stands up, face composed, but body ready to get physical.

If he gets arrested for a fight, maybe they’ll delay the trial. 

“Alright, alright, the freaks are teamed up. We’ll leave.” The douchebag announced, backing up slowly as he laughed along with his friends back to their expensive reserved table. 

Y/n’s eyes were on Jungkook again, lips mindlessly wrapped around a pineapple this time as she watched him sit back down. 

She looked curious, unfazed.

“Why did you just sit there and put up with it? I thought you’d at least kick him or something.” He grumbled out, shoving some of his omelette into his mouth.

She didn’t say anything, just watched him eat.

He was cutting up his bacon when she finally spoke again. 

“Can I have a bite?”

He choked. Looked at the bacon, back at her with a look that read Are you serious? 

He lifted the bacon towards her. 

“This?”

She nodded.

But before he could even fully confirm, she was out of her seat and her lips were wrapped around his fork, eyes blaring into his as she ate the bite. 

He didn’t retreat as her face came down to clamp down on the metal, eyes staring into his as she slowly pulled off, wiped a corner of her mouth with a perfectly manicured nail and sat back down in her seat. 

“Sorry,” she said, lifting the napkin to her lips to really get the grease off. “I just wanted to make him jealous.” 

Jungkook’s brows furrowed. He looked back at the douchebag at his table. 

He was fuming.

“Is he the guy you spent the night with because…”

“No, not that one,” she corrected. “He’s, uh, dead.” 

So matter of fact. 

Jungkook could not have asked for a more startling start to the festivities. 

“Let’s just get through this fucking trial.”

—

He’s not sure what that breakfast did or how it did it, but he’s ready to go. He’s so incredibly ready to go. He is buzzing in his seat as Y/N lays out all of their papers on the counsel desk, touches base with the client in the stands, and makes sure that the podium is lined up with everything Jungkook needed.

Before the Judge comes out, Y/N gives his knee a squeeze. He doesn’t let it affect him, only fuels him. He bounces that knee the whole time while they do their appearances and everything gets started. And then, he’s up.

The bright courtroom lights, the dozen or so eyeballs staring at him. The chance to be interesting, the chance to be boring.

The chance to win.

And it goes great. Poised, emotional, but reasonable. The jury is locked in, they seem intrigued, they seem offended, they seem like they may have eaten a steak off this guy’s ranch.

He is endlessly pleased. He’s even more pleased when the state’s attorney sucks absolute ass. He keeps writing notes to Y/N about it, who doesn’t even bother to read any of the notes half the time, and even when she does, she just shoots a displeased look at him like you look too happy. Tone it down. 

He can’t help it, he keeps poking his pen at her thigh, taking and passing notes, and he’s back. He’s so back. Poker face on as he causes trouble - lion back in the colosseum. He was going to make those state attorneys quit their jobs after this with how well they were going to do. They had this in the bag.

They recess for lunch, and Y/N basically jumps out of her seat to get away from him. Jungkook happily follows her along, a little oblivious to how annoyed she is, but that’s mostly because she’s being good about not letting her annoyance show. At the very least, she’s aware that his joy is warranted, and that she just has a low tolerance for any show of it. She borderline seems allergic to it because during the recess, she hides from him completely, which is infuriating because he wants to go over one of his questions for his direct examination of the client - the poor rancher. 

He scours the halls, checks all of the spare rooms, even lingers outside of the girl’s bathroom for a couple of minutes. Nothing. 

Where could she have escaped to?

In the ten minutes he spends speeding through the Capitol’s courthouse, he never thinks or considers the fact that rummaging through the busiest courthouse in the city where he tanked his reputation, that there might be a slight chance of running into someone he shouldn’t run into. 

And run into Minji he does. 

She’s standing outside of the door to some Judge’s chambers, crowded by some associates and her, now, husband - a tall but beer gutted ex D1 dick with legacy parents whose biggest success is the area code he was born into (minus the beer gut, this might also be Jungkook down to a tee, so perhaps there is a little bit of a hate-through-the-mirror thing happening). 

He can digest it however he wants, but this visual information in front of him is not going to be dealt with well. 

Jungkook gags. Then and there he feels the run of bile in the back of his throat, his stomach twists and turns and he makes a beeline for the men’s bathroom on the other side of the hall. 

And right at the one single moment where Jungkook needs her gone, Y/N basically materializes in front of him, makeup retouched, hair combed back, and a fresh douse of her tonka perfume on. 

“Why are you running?” She blurts out, loud - makes a couple of people in the bustling hall look over. Not Minji, or the fat tall monster next to her. He can only thank god. “Who are you staring at - oh.”

His eyes shoot back to glare at her, but she’s staring over at Minji with absolute delight in her eyes. He’s not what she is - a chance for vengeance, a curiosity satisfied - who knows! Who cares! He needs to leave.

“Y/N, I need to go.” 

She looks back at him, face pulled back in confusion. 

“Go? Go where?” She asks, then looks back at Minji, “Like, go say hi?”

He shakes his head at the speed of light, grabs her wrist, and drags her into one of the spare rooms with all his might, because she’s insistently resisting, her curiosity desperately pulling her to Minji. 

Once they’re both in one of the conference rooms with the janky coffee machine and the overhead fans (the state budget hasn’t allowed for any HVAC updates since the 90s), and the door is securely closed behind them, Jungkook can finally feel himself breathe, but it’s too late, the panic has set in, and he knows for a fact that his body will be vibrating with stress, plagued by flashbacks that he can’t choke down, for the rest of the day. 

He’s out of commission, and they still have to do their client’s direct testimony before they’re done for the day. 

Y/N slumps into one of the chairs, displeased, legs crossed, as he tries to catch his breath. 

“You’re weird.” She mumbles, picking up the dangly pendant necklace that she had worn over her white button up. She had worn a navy skirt suit set today, one of her favorites from some insane underground, super exclusive Japanese designer. 

Jungkook had his humble Hugo Boss on, but they matched. He likes that they matched. He tries to focus on the colors for a moment.

“You’re very weird. Why are you freaking out now after the hard part is over?”

He gulps and walks over to the counter with the coffee machine, quickly shoves a pod in and holds a mug underneath to feel the warmth of the liquid in his hands. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, tries counting. 

“At least today is almost over. And all I did was sit. What a waste.” 

He bites his lip, knows she's going to be pissed, but asks anyway: 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be a waste?"

He could feel her piercing gaze on the back of his shoulders. He blew a metraton of air out, puffing out his lips and staring at the ceiling before putting the mug down and grabbing onto the counter.

“I need you to do the direct examination.”

“No.”

She's at her feet immediately, arms crossed, and eyebrows raised.

“Absolutely not.”

He sighs, rubs his temple and reaches for the little packets of creamer and starts dumping them one by one into his coffee.

“You have to.”

He hears her walking up to him before she grabs his shoulder and twists him around. 

“No. That is not what I do.” She persists, grabbing his tie and pulling him in close. “I do not do the stupid, bullshit storytelling, pity party. I fight - I do the opening, the closing, I cross the witnesses, I voir dire, I argue motions, I do not deal with making people feel bad for a millionaire with a ranch-” 

“I can’t do it!” He insists, lips quivering. “I wish I could-”

She’s not listening to him. 

“People pay me hundreds of thousands of dollars to go sit on trials to do just that. Do you know what people don’t pay me hundreds of thousands to do??? DIRECT TESTIMONY!” 

“I can’t!” He repeats, voice loud, and hands pushing her away. 

She fumes before him, fists balled and eyes slightly red. 

“You want to hit me?!” he accuses. “Fine, hit me, slap me, kick me - won’t make a difference! I can’t do it. I’m having a panic attack. It won’t stop until I get in the shower or -”

“I know hitting you won’t help.” She says, matter of fact again. He stops rambling, eyes narrow. “That’s not your thing, is it?”

It’s his turn to raise his eyebrow, tighten his expression, and show a bit of annoyance. He feels like he knows where this is headed, but at the same time, his mind cannot possibly fathom where she is about to take this conversation. 

“I know about them.”

His jaw clicks, he puts the mug that’s been keeping him steady back down on the counter. His hands are still shaking. 

“About your old associates. Back when you were a senior at S&S.” 

He stares at her like he’s getting ready to butcher something. His eyebrows are drawn back, his shoulders are tensing.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice still meek, and it sounds a little more broken than before. “What did you hear?”

“I heard about what you used to do to calm down. During trials.”

She knows that she’s testing a boundary right now. It’s not exactly fear, but there is hesitation in her voice. 

“Go on.”

She gets this look - a whim - and he can tell for certain that she feels no fear. She looks like she’s solved a puzzle. 

She doesn’t hesitate as she pulls out one of the chairs next to her, making way for herself to lean over the table. 

It takes everything for Jungkook to not drop the mug in his hands. To not drop his jaw. 

She leans on her elbows, faces the door, and with zero emotion, offers: 

“You can spank me. If it means you’ll focus again.”

Never in his wildest dreams…

“Y/N…”

“I won’t take it personally. We can forget about it after.”

He has no way of telling her that this does the opposite of helping, but her train of thought brings him somewhere desperate. 

“Really, do whatever you need to do. You have my permission.” 

It’s too bad that he finds a solution in that dark place. And it’s even worse that he’s been given the green light by Y/N to do whatever he needs to do to relax because she’s right, she does not do direct testimony. She can’t take the social cues, she derails the story, she gets frustrated with the client - just can’t get her message across. 

He walks up to her on the table, gently lifting her with a soft pull at her shoulder. She straightens out and stares at him with what Jungkook thinks might be fear. He can tell that she’s genuinely scared of having to do the direct testimony, genuinely doesn’t want to do it.

He needs to get it together. He needs her help for that. She seems to understand what his eyes are trying to communicate. 

“You wanna know what I actually did to those associates?” He hums, pushing her around so that she’s leaning against the table, her fingers coming down to hold onto the aging, glossy wood. 

Her eyes are careful, but she looks quiet and obedient - she seems to get very obedient when you have information she wants. 

And though there is no singular human emotion that Jungkook could evoke from them, he can tell at the very least that she’s curious. 

His hands came down to corner either side of her thighs, his face drawing close, maybe two inches from her nose. His arm muscles protrude as he leans his weight on them, strategically keeping his hips a good foot away from Y/N. 

He smiles, and that look was back - the same one that chastised her at the beginning of the trial when she called him dumb. 

And she looked like she wanted to hiss at him again, what a coincidence. 

“Ready?” he asked, leaning a little closer, lips maybe an inch apart, his hot breath fanning over her lips. She nodded again, slow, but her eyes seemed less focused. 

He looked up into her irises, brought his lips ever so close before parting them with a sick, sly smile, curled up in the nastiest way imaginable. And he said,

“You dumb, stupid, fucking bitch.”

Y/n blinked, and Jungkook took that as ammunition.

“You absolute, useless slut. You are worthless.”

Her face remained steady, just watching, not reacting. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing slightly as if to imitate exasperation. “Is this what you needed? To be told you’ll never be shit?”

She hummed, and it almost took him out of it. He needed her to cry, but getting the words out was enough for now to release that fat tension held in his tight body. 

“You can’t put two fucking words together. Is this what your parents wasted their money on? You should lick my fucking feet for letting you be on this case. For letting you work with me. What a desperate…”

She hummed again.

“Worthless...”

She nodded ever so slightly.

“Whore.”

He watched her chest rise a little higher than all her other breaths, before he took a step back, softened his face, and shook his head with something that felt like embarrassment. 

“I was a dick. Okay? A huge, awful dick.” He admitted, but Y/N didn’t seem to be entirely present for this revelation. She seemed to still be stuck in that vortex of insults.

“And I feel awful, and I should be judged for all those things that I did.” He leaned in close again for the next part. “But I never touched those girls. And I never would.”

She seemed to snap out of it when he said that. She seemed slightly apologetic. 

“Even if they begged for it.” he added. 

Her face had returned to its normal, passive state by the time that his eyes had to meet hers, and the moment was over, and the point was made. 

He was fine. They were going to win this thing. 

They collected themselves, Y/N jotted something down on her legal pad, and they headed back into the court room. On the way over, Jungkook got the courage to ask her:

“Is that why you were being so mean to me this morning? Because of the rumors?” 

She shook her head, adjusted the files in her arms. 

“No, I wanted the opening and you wouldn’t give it to me. I just wanted you to give it to me." She thought for a moment before adding, "And I don’t really care about the rumors. I just needed you to do the direct.” 

Simple. In an extremely complicated way, she was so simple. 

Jungkook handled the direct, it went exactly as it needed to do, and the jury seemed more than happy with his client’s story. They objected to the other side’s cross of their client in just the right amount of excess to convince the jury that the state’s attorneys were mean bullies. 

They high fived under the table before the judge called it a day. As they were packing up, Jungkook glanced down at Y/N’s legal pad, eyes locking on the note that she had scribbled earlier in the day. 

“He’s just as crazy as I am. I think.”

—

The rest of the trial goes by in a blur. The shared room situation stops being a problem because they stop sleeping. They take turns taking power naps here and there, but they keep telling each other as they organize and reorganize their strategy, that they’ll sleep when it’s over. They’re so close. 

The room turns into a war zone - paper copies of evidence everywhere, chaotic notes drawn over any legible surface, exhibits and diagrams laid out on the bed so as not to crease. 

And the hard work pays off. They show up prepared, the court room loves them, and the press that began to litter the stands loves pulling Jungkook aside for interviews, and Jungkook loves updating them on the whims of his new life. 

“Y/N Y/L/N is an amazing attorney. I am truly blessed to have her on my team. I think we need to encourage and support more strong willed, tough women in this industry. If we win, I owe it all to her.”

The reporter, hailing from some legal journal, is obviously familiar with these circles and looks kerfuffled at Jungkook’s description of Y/N. She tries to get him to clarify, and so does every other reporter that’s ever even briefly heard of Y/N’s reputation as being a ruthless villain, but he insists. She is the best attorney he has ever met. The kindest.

And he can’t be wrong. He gets to have his great big comeback with this case, but Y/N puts up a great performance, too. It's her usual level of excellence, which he had heard of back in the day, but he still watches in awe as all her weaknesses when it comes to the direct testimony transforms into a strength for her crosses. 

She doesn’t take social cues, that’s true, but that works great for her as she delivers her harsh one liners to the state’s witness, cutting him off at every chance, and barely even acknowledging his attempts to speak.

“And wouldn’t you agree with me, Mr. Seon, that this farm is not the only available parcel in the area for the government’s plans?”

“Yes, but -”

“And further, wouldn’t you agree that there are over five different parcels, without any present ownership and without any present commercial value, that would suit the government’s needs way better than a poor old farmer’s family owned, generations passed cow ranch?”

“P-perhaps  -”

“That is all, Your Honor.”

Murmurs from the jury, every time. Jungkook has had to fight his smiles extra hard during this trial. He doesn’t recall ever feeling this alive. 

He doesn’t recall ever enjoying his second chair this much. They were always just wrong - a little too nice, a little too cold, a little too aloof, a little too dumb, a little too smart. 

Y/N was everything, but nice and dumb. She was extremely cold, aloof, smart, mean, efficient, effective - god, was there any other word that he could muster?

After the closing statements, it became more than apparent that the jury would deliver a verdict in their favor on the last day, and so, they left the fourth day of trial without any work to bring back to the hotel. 

Jungkook suggested they go out to a real restaurant, eat something substantial after days of vending machines and room service. 

Y/N agreed, begrudgingly. She was more desperate for the bed and a good night’s sleep, but a hot meal couldn’t hurt. 

So, they go to the happening restaurant where all of the other attorneys are refueling after their cases, but Jungkook makes sure to take them to the one that he knows is frequented with his crowd - the nonprofit guys, the solo practitioners, the odd ones out. 

This crowd loves him, hails him - they’ve all been following the case. They’re patting him on the back, giving him their business cards, asking if he needs another associate. 

Y/N seems to hate this crowd more than the one in the cocktail lounge, which was quite the opposite crew - the finance guys, the tech startup CEOs, the grimy and slimy. 

She pokes her fork into her fish and chips like she’s stabbing it and sips at her beer as Jungkook reels away from another crowd that’s come to pay their respects at their table in this old timey Irish pub. Why do lawyers always frequent Irish pubs? He is on such a high by the time the crowd leaves them be that he can’t even eat, but he’s on his third beer, and he can’t stop despite the slight panic that he’ll be bloated in the post verdict pictures tomorrow. He needs to look good for the photo op. 

“Well, congrats, Mr. Jeon. I would say you have had a very successful comeback.” 

She’s barely interested in speaking the words as she shoves a tiny piece of fried fish into her mouth. Chews on it like its gum. 

“Thanks, you don’t have to sound so elated.” He jokes, eyes squinting as he jokingly fakes his smile before dropping it down to a more genuine one. “Seriously, though, thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better return to the scene. Glad to have you by my side.”

She shrugs, licks the salt off her lips and reaches for her beer. 

Takes a fat chug. He’s almost taken back. 

“Well, that’s a first.” She says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

The move does something to Jungkook. He takes a glance down to her stocking clad legs. She wore a skirt every day. Matched him every day, without even asking. 

“What is?” he asks, taking a big bite of his burger, humming around it when the charred meat hits his tongue. Real food.

“Glad to have you by my side.”

He looks up at her, wipes the ketchup off his lips, gulps.

“Huh?”

“Never heard that before. Let alone after a trial.”

He smiles, shakes his head. 

“You deserve it, Y/N, you were amazing-”

“No, I wasn’t.” She corrected him curtly, putting her fork down and pursing her lips. “I was mean, I basically tried to sabotage you on that first morning, constantly snapped at you, I can’t even recall how many times I’ve told you to shut up, shut down your ideas, ignored your comments, insulted you-”

“O-Okay, got the picture. Got it! I just think that…” he looks for the right words, and when he can’t find them, he just goes back to eating his burger, shrugging. “I think you’re great.” he says with a mouth full of burger, looking at his fries instead of her. 

When he looks up, she’s staring at her plate, hands folded in her lap, just staring at the fish, torn apart and discarded.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s distracted by the opening of the door, and a sudden rush of expensive suits and red bottomed shoes enter, bringing a cloud of murmurs with them: “can’t believe they kicked us out.” “they were being so unreasonable.”

And lo and behold, in comes Minji with her husband, and Jungkook wants to actually shoot himself in the face (no, he doesn’t. He doesn’t mean that). 

“She’s back,” Y/N quips, eyes fired up again. Jungkook looks at her exasperated, pleading. 

“We have to leave.” he says, signaling the waiter over for a check. “Now.”

Y/n pouts, the conniving mean, cold, heartless bitch pouts, and Jungkook is actually going to strangle her when they get back to the hotel - 

“Mr. Jeon, you have something on your face.” She says, out of nowhere. 

She’s out of her seat, in front of his, and in the crowded Irish pub, with bodies and noises all around, she manages to make it all go silent as she stands in between his legs, face inches apart from his. 

He borderline expects her to repeat his insults from that first day, but instead, she stands there and takes a napkin to the corner of his mouth, where he’s sure that there are no crumbs or other food artifices.

He just watches her, forgetting about Minji, as she leans, eyes locked on his lips. 

“She’s watching,” she whispers, eyes glancing up at his before flickering back down. “Do you want to piss her off?”

He slyly takes a glance in Minji’s direction, and she indeed is staring at Y/N, nostrils flaring slightly. He, out of instinct, tenses his muscles, and he notes that Y/n’s eyes follow the stretch of his chest under his rather transparent cotton button up. A light blue. 

He presses a hand into the small of Y/N’s back and pulls her closer to whisper into her ear:

“Let’s go for a swim. I don’t care what she thinks.”

He pulls away with a wink, and while his insides burn with memories and pain that will forever follow Minji along for him, he can find it in himself to hold it together because Y/N’s cold eyes and cold fingers offer him the necessary relief from the fire in his head. 

He grabs her hand, not thinking twice about it before grabbing their jackets from the backs of their seats and shoving enough bills down on the table to not cause a scene before they book it out of there, and true to his word, Jungkook sneaks them into the pool, which is technically closed so the overhead lights are off, but the pool lights offer enough illumination for a night swim.

He gets Y/n to agree to race him. She wins.

“I was a swimmer in college.”

“Of course you were.”

When they get back to the office, they’re heroes, warriors. Namjoon and Jimin greet them with confetti and balloons and chocolates, and Jungkook takes a whole box of it down to his office, sweet off of the high of their win - the jury returned an insane verdict for them, set a crazy precedent. He was back on the Times this morning with a little article in the legal section about the case.

Life is good. Can’t be better. 

The next day, Jungkook comes in earlier than everyone else, high off of an early morning run. He changes out of his sweaty gym clothes in the office, and does some of Jimin’s work for him before he gets in - half curious about what the guy does with his day, and half just trying to win brownie points with him since he’s been gone for so long. 

He enjoyed the chance to bond with Y/N (even though he has to shake some moments off of his head, like her bent over the conference table), but he didn’t want to risk his alliance with Namjoon and Jimin. They were nicer than Y/N.

He passes out the mail, waters the plants, and opens the shades, when an early flower delivery arrives. He greets the driver and signs for it, smiling wide - maybe it’s from one of the farmer rights’ groups. 

He checks the card, and his face drops when he realizes it’s for Y/N. He doesn’t read much else, but almost immediately catalogues it as a romantic gesture and his mind spins.

Romantic gesture?? For Y/N?? What idiot is trying to get their knees capped?

He scoffs at the sender, at their efforts. She would trample these flowers. Toss them out the window. Whatever, he doesn’t care. He broodingly tosses the arrangement on her desk, letting a few petals plop around. He feels slight guilt for being so careless with it, but his sudden change in attitude doesn’t let him dwell in the shame.

Instead, he broods, puts on his worst attitude, and manages to piss everyone off. 

“Who shat in your bed this morning?” Jimin quips in Jungkook’s office, pen tapping against the clipboard as he waits for his boss’s attention. 

“What do you want?” Jungkook grunts, eyes locked in his computer screen, tirelessly typing away at a motion. 

“The Southeastern Farmers’ coalition sent over a very nice bottle of whiskey - was going to ask if you wanted it.”

Jungkook sighs, stops typing.

“Was that really a good reason to bother me?”

“Jeez, who jizzed in your coffee?”

“I do want the whiskey actually!” Jungkook snaps, and Jimin mumbles something under his breath before turning around to leave, but Jungkook’s sigh makes him turn back around. 

“Spill.” Jimin orders, sitting down on the arm chair. 

“There is nothing to spill,” Jungkook grumbles, clicking his pen. “I do have a question, though.”

“Spiiiillll,” Jimin entices, a hand beckoning him to reveal his deepest secrets. 

“There were flowers for Y/N this morning. That’s fine, obviously, I’m just so curious, I just can’t imagine her dating. Does she date??” 

But Jimin doesn’t answer his question. His eyes just go wide and his hand hovers over his mouth for a moment before he clears his throat and stands up.

“Yellow roses?” he asks, and Jungkook slowly nods, more intrigued than ever. 

Jimin is a man on a mission as he leaves Jungkook’s office, speeding past Namjoon’s desk with an unforeseen ferocity. 

Jungkook has never seen him move so fast, so naturally, he’s hot on his tail, and he shoots a slight shrug at Namjoon as they pass him by. 

Namjoon in his infinite wisdom overhears the word flowers and glances down at the date on his calendar.

He curses, rips out his headphones, and follows the crew down to Y/N’s office. 

The door is closed. The lights are off.

“Oh god,” Jimin yelps, forehead slamming against the door with a loud thud. “Y/N, unlock the door!”

“She locked it??” Namjoon gasps out, catching up to them. He pushes Jungkook to the side slightly as he starts banging on the door. 

Jungkook stands, helpless and confused but enthralled somehow. 

“Y/N, open the door. It’s no use trying to work through it.” Namjoon speaks, loud but soft all at the same time, mouth leaning into the little crevice between the door and the doorframe. 

“She’s working in there?” Jungkook asks, trying to peek in above the frosted glass. “It’s pitch black. The lights are off.” 

But no one is paying attention to him. They’re just gently knocking on the door, trying to entice her out with whispered, soft offers through the door. 

We’ll get Jungkook to work remotely for the rest of the week.

We’ll take you to the driving range.

I will take all of your calls, every single one, just please come out. 

He learns a bit more about Y/N with each whisper, but he’s not even fully convinced she’s in there. There is no movement, no sign of life. 

When Jimin and Namjoon finally give up, they sulk at their desks, looking genuinely broken. Jungkook calls them into his office for a little therapy session.

“It upsets me. Every year, I don’t know how she does it.” Namjoon rambles, feet kicked up onto Jungkook’s desk as he lays back against the arm chair. Jimin sits perched on the arm, biting at his nails and pulling back to inspect his tortured nail beds before going right back to it. 

“And what is it exactly?” Jungkook asks, bringing in two piping mugs of tea for the men in an attempt to soothe them. He was tempted to sneak some of the expensive whiskey in to see if it would loosen them up more, but he realized that they were open books. They were never really super greedy with their Y/N handbook. They spilled whenever he asked. 

“Oh, god, where do we start?” Jimin wanes, fanning himself with his hands. He’s overwhelmed beyond relief. “Where do we start, Namjoon? Help.”

“It’s actually insanely straight forward, but you gotta pay attention because it’s Y/N so it’s a little more complicated than it seems.”

“Is it an ex? A stalker?”Jungkook asks, hands wrapping cozy around his own mug. 

“Both, kind of.” Jimin says, looking back down at Namjoon for assistance.

“Y/N doesn’t do exes. She doesn’t do relationships. But she’s human.”

“She fucks,” Jimin interjects, sipping his tea with a shaky grip. “She fucks without really thinking twice of it.”

He glares at Namjoon a little, and Namjoon blushes. 

Jungkook glows red, too, but he’s not sure if he would categorize it as a blush. It feels more like irritation. 

“Have you…” Jungkook asks, staring at Namjoon, trying to get his question out without really getting it out. 

“Uh, yeah, a couple of times.” 

“Tell him where, Namjoon.” Jimin insists, poking his leg with his foot. 

Namjoon blushes a little harder, his hand coming up to scratch at his nape. 

“Jimin’s old desk. At the old firm.”

Jimin nods, staring at Jungkook like “can you imagine? 

He can. Oh god, he can. He shivers. 

“I was pissed at Jimin about something, made a side comment about wanting to piss him off, and Y/N had suggestions. I took her up on it.”

“Were you still with…”

Namjoon shakes his head. 

“Oh god, no! I was single! Really, nothing serious - it doesn’t mean anything to her.”

Jimin leans a little closer to Jungkook, who is absolutely enthralled by these revelations.

“Like nothing, Jungkook. It’s like drinking water. Eating, showering.”

“Like a chore.” Jungkook elaborates to see if he’s caught on. 

Namjoon shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t call what she does a chore.”

Jungkook throws a pen at him. 

“Watch it. This is a professional office.” He then turns back to Jimin. “So, what? This is just a butthurt ex? One night stand? Why is it making her freak out so bad?”

“Ok, well, the first caveat is that she’s not freaking out.” Jimin corrects. “Y/N doesn’t freak out. She’ll snap, crash out - not freak out.”

“And I don’t know, what would you call a dead hookup?” Namjoon asks, genuinely pondering. “Would that count as an ex?”

Jungkook recalls the dead guy - the one she shared a bed with. 

“This is how it goes, and Jungkook, this stays in this room. Don’t tell Y/N we told you.” 

This is odd. They usually do this type of thing right in front of Y/N. They talk about her, theorize about her, speculate about her - they do it all directly in front of her, in the same room as her. 

So, this is… odd. No better word for it.

“It was her last year of law school. Not an awful year, but Y/N was a gunner, so she was a little distracted.”

Jungkook nods. Ok, distractions, fine, continue. 

“She was hooking up with this one guy. He sounded like a really nice guy if you ask me.” Namjoon continues. 

“Was friends with her from day one, always watched out for her, carried her books, dragged her to networking events. Honestly, Y/N would have gotten nowhere with that personality without him, and I say that as her biggest fan.” 

Jimin holds Namjoon’s knee, getting him to pause for a second.

“Keep in mind, this is just what we managed to squeeze out of other lawyers from her law school. She will not open up to us about this, so we’re missing most of the picture.” He interjects, but Namjoon keeps going, waving him off. 

“It’s enough of the picture for him to get the idea - anyway, they start hooking up. She’s a little distracted, a little overwhelmed - she gets pregnant.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. 

“Then, what!?” he beckons, eyes wide, fingers clutching the mug. 

“What do you think?” Jimin asks.

He can guess, somewhat, the events that follow. And he doesn’t make them indulge it. 

She’s obviously not a mother, and the poor guy is dead, but what of the flowers?

“He killed himself. Before graduation.” Namjoon answers.

“His parents have been mailing the flowers to her on his death anniversary every year since then.” Jimin explains.

“It usually takes them a while to find her again when she switches jobs. This was surprisingly fast. I thought she was off the hook for this year.”

Jimin looks sadder than he’s ever looked, and Namjoon doesn’t look much better. 

Jungkook sits with the information, his fervent interest fading away slowly to a somber realization. 

He knows nothing about Y/N, but finds that he cares for her infinitely, and he takes that time to also appreciate the fact that the two men in front of him also seem to care for her, deeply. And he thinks it funny, in that little second, that loveable, palatable Jungkook has burned every bridge he’s ever crossed, but cold, heartless Y/N has stolen hearts everywhere she’s gone. 

Exes that are still obsessed, old hookups willing to work for her. She even has a gay man on the verge of tears because of his worry for her. 

“Why doesn’t she just file for a restraining order or something?” he asks, his final curiosity of the night. Jimin and Namjoon exchange looks. 

Jungkook sends them both home early, citing that it’s been a tough day for everyone, and suggests that maybe they should just try giving Y/N her space to mourn. 

Jimin jumps on the offer, and sends out the mating calls (texts) to his roster. Namjoon doesn’t disagree, either, just settles for taking some of his work home to deal with after dinner, and he pauses by the elevators as Jungkook sees him out, helping him carry some of his files. 

He looks at Jungkook, observing him carefully before speaking. 

“She’s not mourning. Y/N doesn’t mourn. That’s another caveat.” 

Jungkook shuffles the files he’s holding onto, listens intently. Namjoon reaches over to grab them from him with a foot holding the elevator open. 

“She thinks she should mourn, but I don’t think she feels sad about what happened. I just think that she thinks she should feel sad, so she tries to. I think that’s why today is tough on her. It's also why she doesn't try to stop it. She thinks it's her punishment."

Jungkook nods, dusting his hands off on his pants. 

“Do you get that?” Namjoon asks, but his tone is interesting. It’s not looking for confirmation, not condescending - just a simple question: does he understand what she’s feeling?

“I don’t know.” Jungkook answers, honestly.

Namjoon nods. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if anyone ever will. I don’t think I ever will.”

Jungkook walks back into the office after that, most of the lights turned off and the day’s setting sun glowing all around through the windows. 

It looks like the office is on fire, and to be fair, a hellish sentiment seems to settle in the air once he realizes that he’s alone in the office with an unpredictable, unseen Y/N. 

He looks in the direction of her office, down the far end of the hall. He wonders if she had maybe slipped away while they were chatting it up in his office. 

He can’t help it. 

He walks over, spare key in pocket, contemplating his decision the entire way over. 

He knocks once, puts his ear to the door, and can’t make out a single noise. Not a breath, not a sigh, not a drop of dust. 

Utter silence.

“Y/N?” he calls out as softly, as gently as he can. He’s not sure why. Allegedly, she’s not even sad, so why is he trying to be comforting?

“Jimin and Namjoon are gone. You can leave, too, if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

Nothing. No response.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. Dug into his pocket, and fished out the spare. 

The golden key glowed orange as it caught a loose ray of dying sunshine - a clear, yellow warning sign. 

He squeezed every muscle in his body as he pushed the key through, but when he went to twist the knob, he found it moving on its own. 

He immediately jumped back, letting Y/N peek out from behind the door, eyes glassy and hair slightly unkempt. She had let it down out of her usual updo. 

She looked… different.

Her face held an emotion - Jungkook wasn’t sure what exactly, but it was not the usual void he was confronted with on a daily basis. 

Her button up was undone up top, and her black camisole peeked out from behind her collar. She had only opened the door a measly five inches, not quite letting him in. 

“What do you want?” 

He blinks at her, looks around the office to see if this was some grand big joke. She seems perfectly fine, other than the unkempt hair. 

But then, his eyes drop to her hand holding the door open - the nails. The nail beds are clean torn off, all of them bleeding and chapped. They’re also shaking - almost unnoticeably so, but when someone is as well kept as Y/N, things like this become obvious. 

Or, if you’re Jungkook, and you spend every chance you get hyperanalyzing her actions, a very similar result follows.

He looks at her once more, tries to measure the annoyance in her eyes as he calculates his next move. He has an epiphany when he puts up his finger, as if to say one second.

He runs down the hall to Jimin’s desk, snatches the expensive bottle of whiskey from the farmers and runs back to Y/N’s office. The door is fully open now. 

He spots the yellow flowers on her desk, directly in front of her monitors, where he had dropped it off so carelessly. 

He looks back at her, holding the bottle of whiskey like a prized fish. 

“I bet you haven’t gotten any work done today.”

She looks back at her desk before turning back to him. 

She shakes her head. 

He tsks, puts the whiskey at his hip, feigning some disappointment and attitude.

“Well, that just won’t do, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

Her ears glow a little red.

“I pay you to do your job. Not sit around in your office and mope.”

She stares at him, slightly confused.

“I say, we go into my office, you bring your laptop, and we drink some whiskey and catch up on the work you missed today.”

She keeps staring. 

He feels his heart in his throat.

She steps back into her office, closes the door. Jungkook waits for the sound of the lock, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he hears shuffling, drawers opening and closing, and Y/N emerges back out with her hair combed down and laptop and files in hand. 

“I’d like that.” 

Jungkook beams. The whole time they’re in his office, he’s beaming. He has never been as productive as he is now, tackling all of Y/N's stupid, petty assignments as she handles the more serious ones. 

She likes it, he thinks to himself every few moments. His giddiness is untenable. He has achieved what Jimin hasn’t. What Namjoon hasn’t. He managed to think of something that Y/N likes. 

Likes. 

Likes. 

She likes it.

I’d like that.

She’d like that. 

He giggles to himself, making her stare up from the rugged floor, where she sits with her stocking clad legs bent under her. 

She has her exhibits all laid out, arranging and rearranging them. 

“Can you pass the bottle?” she asks, and he does, with two hands, so careful in his delivery as he revels in the fact that she’s drinking with him. 

She has downed a good eighth of the bottle - the most he’s seen her drink - but she doesn’t seem to be reacting to it much. 

She passes the bottle back to him and he accepts, taking a quick swig before passing it back to her, seeing if she’ll take it up on such a quick rebound. 

She raises an eyebrow at him as if she recognizes the test, and takes a drink before handing it back over to him. 

“Have you ever danced before, Y/N?” he asks, suddenly emboldened.

He half expects her to scoff or to get up and leave once she senses that his work hours are up, and his shenanigan hours are starting. 

But she doesn’t. She answers. 

“Once.” 

He smiles, sits cross legged next to her, looking out at the exhibits. 

“There seems to be a theme here.” he comments, but she doesn’t respond, just adjusts one of the exhibits. 

He licks his lips in contemplation, watching her face before he proceeds. 

“Do you want to talk about him?” 

Her breath hitches. Her fingers clutch the piece of paper in her hands, lightly crushing it. 

He reaches over slowly, as if to not startle the hissing cat, and grabs it out of her hands, putting it back down on the ground. 

He doesn’t wait for her to look at him. He senses the slight freeze taking over her body - the slight shake. 

“It helps.” He says, and she closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath in. 

He feels really brave with the whiskey coursing through his veins, and maybe, more importantly, through hers. 

“Come on,” he beckons, getting back up to his feet. He extends a hand down in front of her face. “Show me.”

She stares at the hand. 

“What?” 

“Show me how you danced. I want to see.”

She hesitates, but she grabs his hand. 

Jungkook sees stars for a second. 

He helps her to her feet, but his pull is a little too strong, and she ends up tripping into his chest a bit before straightening out. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs, eyes searching his body as if she’s actually about to show him how they danced. 

And she actually does. She reaches out to hold one of his hands, brings the other to the small of her back 

“Is that okay?” She asks, and she genuinely seems to be wondering. Seems to care. 

He nods and gives her a smile, which he’s realized he had wiped off his face as he stared at her in wonder, but he does his best to keep it on as she sways them to no music - just the sound of the AC blowing through the vents. 

But he can’t keep it up. He is so intent on watching her, observing her, trying to record and catalog every feeling from every touch she gives him. 

The bump of her hip against his. The squeeze of her hands. The brush of her nose into his chest when they trip over a step. 

“It’s the waltz,” Jungkook realizes when she steps away, straightening out the collar of her shirt. 

“Mhm.” she says, brushing herself off as if touching Jungkook covered her in dust. 

“A wedding dance.” 

Silence. Slight pause in her movements before she continues tugging herself back into place. 

“Do you want a hug?” 

She really stops now. 

“What the hell is going on with you!?” She snaps, a heavy flash of anger landing on her face. 

Oh, he’s done it now. 

He opens his mouth to defend himself, but Y/N starts crashing out, as Jimin would say. 

“No, you have been excessively inappropriate at every turn, at every opportunity, and you are crossing some serious professional boundaries. I won’t have this, you know! I’ll quit!” 

For some reason, Jungkook’s brain screams at him to take that as a yes. Something in him tells him that the tirade is the biggest yes she could have given. 

He hesitates but reaches over, slowly, and grabs her shoulder. She hiccups, stares at the grip. 

With no further resistance, he tugs her into his chest. 

Wraps his arms around her waist. 

Digs his head into the crook of her neck. 

Squeezes.

Gives Y/N a good, healthy hug. 

She is frozen in his grip - both literally and figuratively. She’s not moving, but she also physically feels cold, and he wills it in himself to warm her up. 

Her hands, suspended in the air, slowly and shockingly, come down to wrap around his neck, tentatively. 

Her hold is weak, fleeting. But it’s there. 

“I’m sorry for the flowers. I shouldn’t have just put them into your office. Should have waited for Jimin,” he murmurs, and her hold on him solidifies a bit. “I’m sorry for everything else, too. You must have been sad.”

She starts to pull away and he doesn’t resist, expecting her to rip herself away from his embrace, but she lingers in it, pulling away just enough to look at his face.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t falter, just returns her gaze. 

He knows there are thoughts swimming in his eyes that she can’t decipher, either. 

He takes it in - they’re both mysteries to each other at that moment. Y/N isn’t the only anomaly. 

Then, and he really can’t help it, his eyes drop to her lips - bitten and bruised from the stress of the day, but still tinted from her lipstick. They part at his attention, and his gaze flickers to match hers, but she’s staring at his mouth, too. 

She looks determined. That’s the only way he can describe it. 

She kisses him. 

What does Jungkook do? 

Take a guess. 

He’s on her. Immediately. Lips reciprocating, and hands exploring. 

First on her waist, wrapped around, pulling her tight into his chest as she widens her mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck and her hands winding into his hair. 

He moans when she pulls, he can’t help it, and his arms have enough of her wandering hands as he grabs a hold of them and walks her back until her back is against the wall and he has her wrists pinned above her head, pulling her arms up, taunt. 

She lets herself be kissed like that, Jungkook’s tongue happily dancing with hers, exploring her mouth, his free hand coming up to grab her jaw so that he can twist it one way or the other, deepening the kiss to his heart’s content. 

He’s almost, almost too kiss drunk (and whiskey drunk) to notice her hands falling down to his belt, tugging his hips a little closer, but he pulls back, shy about pressing his concerningly and embarrassingly hard member into her. 

“No,” he murmurs against her lips before pulling away suddenly. “No!”

The sight in front of him produces a guttural reaction. Makes him want to rip everything off of her and fuck her into the carpet, but it’s too much. 

All of this is too much for today. Her messed up hair, her bitten lips, her flushed cheeks, her glassy eyes. 

“We should go home.” He says, running a hand through his hair to tame it back into place after her assault. 

“I’m not going to go home.” She says, matter of fact, but starts collecting her things, buttoning up her shirt. 

“Okay, I’ll leave the keys, you can -”

“No, I mean,” she says, collecting the exhibits off of the floor. “I need to have sex, and you won’t have it with me, so I’m going to go to someone else’s house to have sex.”

Jungkook forgets how to breathe. 

“Also, it would be nice if you could give me something in writing just confirming that what happened was a consensual exchange.”

He’s bewildered.

“I- I think it’s pretty obvious that it was consensual.” he stammers, trying his best to not point at the hard on he’s supporting, but he doesn’t need to, she looks directly at it. No shame. 

“You can mention the erection in the letter, as further confirmation. But I can’t read your mind, and you looked pretty assaulted to me, so I don’t know, I just think I’m better off covering my bases.” 

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he wants to do, but he doesn’t know what he should do. 

He wishes Jimin or Namjoon were here to give him pointers. 

“I apologize if you feel like I assaulted you. I am going to go have sex with an old coworker now.” 

“Wait!” 

Jungkook shouts, hand held out in front of him as if that’ll stop her. 

It does, surprisingly. 

She raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to come to his senses. 

He weighs his options, tries to think straight, but he can’t. All he can picture is Y/N going over to Namjoon’s place, and letting him do whatever he wants to her…

He consciously knows it won’t be Namjoon, but it doesn’t matter. He tries to shuffle through all the men he’s seen around Y/N since he hired her - the drunkard from the lounge, the douchebag at the hotel, and now Namjoon - to see if anything hits less offensive, but every option drives a nail into his soul. 

He can’t. He possibly can’t. 

But something happens to him, something switches. A familiar intuition emerges - a dark sinister need- a want. 

And Jungkook always gets what he wants. 

“Y/N,” he speaks low, doesn’t look at her as he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls them back up to his elbows. 

“Yes?” 

“I need to calm down.” 

Y/N tries to make sense of that. He can see her wracking her little head as she looks around a bit confused. 

“Okay?” She says, confusion drenched in the simple word. 

She sideeyes the shit out of him when he reaches for his belt, undoing the buckle.  

“Remember that first recess during the trial?” he asks, pulling the leather off of his pant buckles. 

She nods, slow and wary. 

“Remember your generous offer?” he smirks, and there it is again. That dark, nefarious twist - something between a smile and a snarl. 

She nods again, puts the papers down on the ground. Her hands are clasped in front of her when she straightens out. 

“I remember.” 

“Is it still on the table?” 

She seems to be thinking for a minute, weighing her own options as Jungkook had just done. 

But Jungkook has no patience. Not in the state of mind he has just slipped into. 

“I thought that wasn’t your thing.” 

“I just told you what I did to the associates,” he corrected, wrapping the leather belt around his fist once, twice, then unraveling it, watching Y/N’s eyes circle his actions in pure intrigue. “You didn’t exactly ask me how I like to fuck Y/N.”

She swallows, body stoic. 

“Would you like to know, Y/N?” He asks, taking a bold step away from his desk towards her. There is barely 5 feet left between them. 

He takes another step. 2 feet left. 

“Do you want me to show you?” 

They stand, Jungkook with sleeves pushed back, composure back in his bones, and Y/N as the textbook picture of “curiosity killed the cat.”

He sees the hair stand on her arms.

She nods. 

He takes another step closer, looks straight into the abyss of her eyes - no fret, because he knows his are just as dark. 

“On your knees.” He drags the words out like poison, staring at her down the bridge of his nose - a highline attitude he’d worked so hard to ditch in this new life. 

But the return is rather delicious. And that’s what scares Jungkook as she lowers herself on the ground, digs her knees into the carpet - this version of him tried killing him. And yet, Y/N summons it no problem, and it doesn’t feel terrifying like that night in his apartment when he tried to murder himself. 

It feels rewarding. It feels good. 

“Give me your hands,” he orders, and she doesn’t hesitate much before offering up her wrists. He carefully winds the leather around them before knotting it down the middle, giving it one good tug to confirm the strength of his DIY cuffs. 

She stares at his handy work, eyes glittering. 

“Can you get up?” he asks, and she does, raising herself to her feet with perfect balance. 

Her arm leans against his chest for support as he does, eyes looking up at him like he holds her entire world. 

He’s never seen her look so… loving. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” she asks, and he just purses his lips and shakes his head. 

“Why would I kiss a desperate slut like you?” 

“Well, you just did…” she whispers, pointer finger on her lips as she glances back to the spot where he had her pushed up against the wall. 

“On the desk, Y/N.” He says, cutting her off short, and her head snaps back obediently. She nods and walks over, stands by the desk, her ass just barely sitting on the edge of it. 

He stands in front of her, arms crossed, eyes drinking in her fully clothed body. 

“Some ground rules,” he starts, eyes locked back onto hers, but she’s staring at his rock hard dick. Licking her lips. 

“Eyes up here,” he snaps, a bit of his character slipping at the visual assault, but he recoils, maintaining his intimidating composure. 

“Number one - you don’t talk, unless I tell you to.”

She considers it before nodding. 

“Number two - you do whatever I say. No questions.”

She nods again. 

He walks up to her now, grabs her cuffed hands which she holds up to her sternum and tugs her closer with the belt. She falls into his chest, and he catches her with a strong hand around her waist. He makes it a point to flex every time his body is on her - lets her feel how hard his muscles are under her touch. 

He lets her land her hands on his chest, fingers sprawling out over his decollete, hidden by the thin fabric of his summer shirt. 

“And you’re done when I say you’re done.” 

She opens her mouth to ask a question but then quickly shuts it. 

It lights him up - the sudden obedience. The easy submission. He’s never needed to be in someone more than in this moment. 

“No bitching, no complaining, and no going to anyone else to finish the job.” 

Her feet shift in her heels. Her legs press together. He smiles that sick, sick smile and runs a hand up her thighs, stopping just at the hem of her skirt, finger tracing right under just to see how she reacts.

She pushes up on her toes, almost as if she wants to get away, but it becomes clear that she’s just adjusting herself, and in fact just trying to get closer as she sinks bank down, trying to get his hand further under that skirt. 

His body heats up at the thought of her neediness. Wonders if she’d ever beg. If he could get that out of her. 

“Turn around, Y/N,” he speaks softly, but there is no way he can soften the delivery. He can tell that this new Jungkook is offputting to her. He can’t tell if it’s a good thing. 

She listens, turns around to face the desk, his body standing perpendicular to hers. He closes his eyes, leans into her perfectly blown out hair, inhaling the scent of the shampoo she uses. 

She shudders. 

His hands come up to trace the top of her skirt where her shirt is tucked in, fingers just lightly tracing over her abdomen as his mouth moves to her ear, biting on the lobe gently. 

Her breathing picks up, her nipples harden through her shirt. He feels indulgent when he lets fingers graze them, feeling the nubs under the pads of his fingers. 

“Tell me what you want,” he orders, lips coming down to kiss her cheek, her jaw, pushing her hair back as he goes to stand behind her, pulling her hips back into his. 

And she finally feels him. 

She lets out a sound unimaginable - one simply cannot describe it. 

He must have been waiting for that sound his entire life because it fires him up. Puts his thoughts to action. 

With a steady hand against the top of her back, he pushes her down on the desk, making her ass lean flush against his dick. He drives it further into her, letting out indescribable sounds himself. 

“I asked you a question,” he spits, his hand coming down to run over the curve of her ass. 

She, uncharacteristically, tries to dig her hips into the desk, chasing it away from the pleasure he’s dying to give her. 

She just shakes her head before laying her cheek against the desk to get the smallest of glimpses of him over her shoulder. 

“I can’t,” she murmurs, almost choking on words. “I can’t do dirty talk.”

He wants to laugh - he’s bewildered. 

What is she? What exactly is he supposed to do with her?

He brings his hand down on her ass, a loud clap - it resonates all the way down to her office. 

Her cheeks burn. 

“Did I ask you for dirty talk? No, I asked you to tell me what you want. Use your words, smart girl.”

She moans. 

She fucking moans. 

He slaps her ass again, unwittingly grinding into her as he does it. 

“Tell me what you want, or you’re really going to regret leaving it up to me.” 

“I want you to keep hitting me.” 

Oh. 

“I’d prefer it if you slapped me in the face.”

God. 

He opens his mouth but then shuts it - unsure of what to do. He’s pretty sure he’s blown a fuse. 

He’s off of her in seconds, turning her around and undoing his belt around her wrists. He doesn’t look at her when he does it, and she doesn’t stop looking at him. 

He takes a step back when he’s done. Eyes wide and face flushed and guilt strewn all over him. 

“I might also need something in writing.” He mutters, back to the new Jungkook, who is now so insanely out of his element. “O-on the consent thing.”

She awkwardly looks around and nods, trying to avoid eye contact. Jungkook feels wrong. 

“Sorry for stopping so abruptly-”

“It’s fine. I’m going to leave,” she says before straightening her outfit and heading for the door, and Jungkook feels his heart break then and there. 

But right before she leaves, she stops with her hand on the handle and looks back at him over her shoulder. 

“I’m going to go to my apartment after this. I won’t have sex with anyone else tonight.”

And she leaves, just like that. 

[maladaptivejeon]

series masterlist - pt. one | pt. two | pt. three

themes: idol!jungkook/idol!Y/N; toxic idol industry; childhood friends to whatever the hell this is lol; "we grew up together so why is this suddenly weird" energy; a lot of competition and jealousy; blurred friendship/romantic boundaries; growing up famous; "everyone loves you so why do I feel like I'm losing"

series warnings: mdni!; 2016-2018 jungkook :); explicit content; toxic relationship dynamics; m*nors in high-pressure settings; panic attacks/anxiety; substantial s*bstance ab*se; voyeurism; m*sturbation; consent-adjacent dynamics; first time

word count: ~14k(chapter total)/~50k (series total)

a/n: not sure about this one, curious to see what you guys think. i just really wanted to relive 2016-18 jungkook. ALSO, no taglist, but thank you forever for supporting this hobby!

Lately, he’s been so uneasy. Easy to unsettle. Constantly on edge and wandering off into impossible what-if situations. It feels like a chronic condition. He should see the company doctor. 

Instead, he goes to see a friend, as he always does.

And that word lingers, as it always does. 

Fame has made things awfully confusing for him, and, lately, it’s only gotten worse. Take friend, for example. He’s not sure what to make of it. The people he calls friend he could sooner call family, and his own real family feels like an odd bunch of long-distance friends. 

But Y/N, she’s something all the way in the middle. 

They grew up together. She was 13 when he debuted but eons smarter and light years ahead in talent. He knew he could, and would, catch up to light years, but eons were unattainable. She always had the upper hand and the prestige. He felt like dollar store candy compared to her - palatable but not as transient and alluring. 

That feeling of watching eyes shift from him to her, always, bred a sense of competition that strained any familial pull they could have felt. 

But then, there was the time he broke his ankle during training. He was 14, she was 12. She somehow convinced her managers to let her stay in the hospital while they put the cast on him. Stayed by his bedside while he cried because he thought he had messed everything up. A stoic presence, but that was warmth he couldn’t forget. 

Then, there was the time when she got so sick that he had to wake up Yoongi to take her to the ER without anyone noticing. She insisted - if they found out how sick she was, they wouldn’t let her perform at the award show the next day. 

He stayed in her dorm, changed the cold towels on her head to bring her fever down, and force fed her medication when she refused to take it. He was days away from debuting then, and he remembered thinking about how much trouble he’d be in if anyone knew where he was. 

Then, shortly after he debuted, once they realized that they had made it big in the States before they really ever got to break ground in Korea, she tagged along with them for their LA stay. 

While the group filmed humiliation rituals framed as promotional content, Y/N was paraded around to the studios in the area, collaborated on projects and wrote some ten-twenty songs that eventually got sold off to the biggest names in the industry and landed on the Billboard charts. She danced with the most impressive choreographers while he filmed nine back to back lives feigning to adult fans for their well earned paychecks. They were building her reputation, and they were milking his before he even got to build one.

But, at the end of each day, with these envies pushed aside, they would find each other. They’d huddle up in his hotel room and bother whichever member he was sharing it with that day - usually Taehyung and Jimin, but Yoongi tended to stop by, too. Everyone liked spending time with Y/N. A small pride of his was that Y/N preferred to spend time with him over everyone else. She told him as much. At least one day out of the week, they’d sneak an Uber to Chinatown and eat something they technically weren’t allowed to eat, then get back to the house they had rented out for the team to stay in, and hit the treadmills in the basement until they were about ready to throw up. 

Then, sweaty on the tile floors, they would lie and cool their skin and talk for hours about all of this - there were no unspokens between them. He told her that he was jealous of the people she got to work with, and the things she got to achieve. She said she wanted nothing more than to sing and dance like a monkey and not give a second thought to anything. 

“It feels like they’re forcing a genius out of me. It’s not really there, but they’re digging because it would be nice if it were there.” 

She was a marketable, multi-national ploy for the company with a god given talent for words and sounds. Even as she complained, she sounded ethereal. 

Jungkook knew that a part of it was intended to insult him because she harbored some hatred for his ways, too. Wanted him to snap out of it and stand up for himself. But those inspirational aspirations - of a revolt against the company - were better served with Yoongi and Taehyung, who felt a similar extraction of a genius out of them that they weren’t ready to give. 

“You don’t like it when I hang out with Yoongi-hyung.” She said one day in the middle of a particularly challenging treadmill run. He choked on a wad of rice noodles that had congealed and threatened to fight their way back up his throat. 

“What..” He gasped, wiping the sweat from his forehead, “What - why would I-?”

“You glare.” She choked out, brushing the back of her hand against her sweat-slicked bangs. “And you sulk.” 

Jungkook stopped the treadmill. She kept running. 

“I don’t know, I think he’s a little too old to be that infatuated with whatever you’re telling him.” 

She stopped the treadmill. He slowly laid back on the floor. 

She walked over to him, towel tapping over her decollete and the back of her neck - a wash of bare skin. 

When she crouched next to him, he could smell her for the first time in a way that he had never smelled her. A sweet, tangy, sour hit of sweat coupled with the remnants of a sandalwood wash. 

Her big eyes staring down at him, dancing but focused. 

He gulped at the feeling that stirred in him at that moment. It made him feel sick and sleepy. He wanted to go to bed and paint a picture of her against his eyelids and hold on to it for the rest of the night and maybe never speak to her again. 

That was the first time that he had felt such a convulsion. He didn’t feel like that again for a long time. When they got back to Korea, Jungkook was a famous 17 year old and Y/N was 15 and getting ready to officially debut. Their schedules kept them far enough apart that he didn’t need to sit with that feeling.

There was no time to corrupt the few moments they got together in a given week. His body and his mind willed his hormones to dull so that he could laugh, joke, and smile with his friend in between the bouts of the insane schedule he was on. They hadn’t quite made it as big in Korea as they did in the States, but there was massive momentum and the company wanted the group to optimize the popularity in America all the while building off of the energy that they had in Korea. It meant traveling between both countries until he felt the blood run dry in his body, and doing a concert during the day and a music show at night, and a million and one variety show appearances, where he had to be fun and charming and human but not too human. 

Y/N debuted with immediate success. Her foreign look was appreciated in Korea, and she had already staked out a place in people’s hearts in the American industry. She got late night tv show slots with backup dancers and magazine covers in almost every single major Asian publication. She got three designer sponsorships within three months of debut and made the company 13 million dollars. Unheard of. The problem was that they sunk 5 million into her image, training, and her debut. One of the most expensive solo investments they had made - they were determined to get their money’s worth. She had her first comeback a month after her debut activities ended. Second comeback came after two months of the last one. The wheel kept turning like that, and Y/N, effectively, never got a single day off. 

She was determined to make back the debt she had accrued because she was convinced that that would break the chains. She needed to break the chains more than she needed anything else.

He had caught her in a practice room one night after three months of not catching a glimpse of her. 

She was dressed like a celebrity - baggy, layered clothes and a baseball cap and an unnecessary pair of sunglasses. 

She startled in front of the mirror when he walked in - the lights were dimmed and he didn’t realize anyone was in there. When he saw her, he didn’t immediately recognize her either. Just had the instinct to bow his head and back out, but when she lifted her head, he caught the shadow of her profile and entered instead, closing the door behind him. 

“Sorry,” she said, peeling the hoodie off of her face and throwing the cap to the ground. “The door doesn’t lock and some of the young trainees freak out when they see me.” 

Jungkook scoffed, walked over and shut the music off, which was playing dimly enough for her to hear the sound of her own feet. That’s what helped her keep count. 

“Must be tough.” he teased, dropping his body down to stretch out his back, his fingers easily finding his toes.

“It actually is. Does it not happen to you?” 

He shrugged, dropping his hands to his knees and twisting his torso, feeling his back muscles expand. 

“I’m used to it, I guess. It’s always hard to deal with the girl trainees - even when you’re not that famous.”

“You’re plenty famous.” 

He stood tall again and appreciated for a second the change between them. He was 18, she was 16. He had started to grow taller than her. He always claimed to have an inch above her head, but secretly, he knew that she was leading the charge, but the puberty clocks had turned and he had sprouted while she remained a gracious, tiny size. Almost a head shorter than him now. She was all so different. 

She had begun to grow into her body - she developed more muscle and moved with more intention, and his brain sometimes drifted off to think about how it really was underneath all of those stuffy layers. 

As if reading his mind, she ditched the hoodie off of her body entirely, revealing a cropped black tank underneath, slightly tinged with her sweat.

“That’s a relief.” She signed out, and followed his earlier movements into a stretch. “My back is killing me.”

Jungkook dropped the arm that he was stretching across his chest and walked up to her. She immediately turned around and pointed, strainedly, to her right shoulder blade.

“Feels like knives when I try to lift my arm over my head.” She complained as his hands began to find their place. He rested one on hand her shoulder to keep her still - she tended to squirm. 

The other sprawled over her shoulder blade, and his thumb dipped into the crevice towards her spine, pressing tight on the flesh to spot the knot that had been bothering her. 

Right in the center of the bone, he felt the harsh mound of flesh and she affirmed with a short whine and a deep arch of her back, trying to get away from him. 

He held her steady, felt her hip hit his and he tried to keep the clouds from fogging his brain. 

He pressed and moved his thumb around until she really began to whine and actually tried to get away from him. 

“Ah, Jungkook - enough.”

“Stay still.” he chastised while continuing to press into the spot. She moaned again and there it was - 

The feeling, the hunger, the smell. It hit him again, but this time, she smelled older, sweeter. There was a heavier, peppery perfume tinting over her natural aroma, and it felt like a shot of alcohol. 

“Don’t make those sounds.” He stated, a little too curtly. Her jaw tilted towards him. 

“What -  mgmh - what sounds?” She asked, and her lips parted just as soon to emit some melodic hum, but this one felt intentional. The hum curved at the end, sounded needy. 

“Ok, you’re fine.” He said, quickly retreating from her body as he began to feel an urgency in his hands. They didn’t want to stay on her shoulder blade - they wanted to take a walk through every inch and corner….

“It felt good,” she said with a tinge of regret. He gulped a little too audibly. 

They stared at each other. 

“It’s been tough, huh?” He asked because he wasn’t sure what else he could do. 

She thought about it before nodding. 

“Do you think it’s been tougher for me? Than it was for all of you?”

He thought about it. 

“I don’t know.” He shook his head, staring at his feet. “I don’t think so. I think it’s easier. Everyone loves you.” 

She was silent as she watched his face. There was a sense of betrayal written on hers. 

“I thought you’d understand, at least. Everyone loves you, too. Doesn’t it feel humiliating?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“I’m not mad. I just thought about it that way, too. That everyone loves you. And that it must be easy.”

“I never thought you had it easy. I just don’t think you have it harder. I think it’s harder to fail. More painful.”

She listened.

“Two comebacks in, Y/N, not a single one of them made less than the projections. You made everyone so happy. Your team got bonuses.”

She didn’t talk, so he continued. 

“Last comeback, the concept. We asked them to change it a million times. Instead, they blew 3 million dollars into making us look like jokes, and we made nothing close to that. I had two staff get fired. I feel sick, Y/N. I feel scared all the time.”

“What about the next one - the one you’re training for?” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes. He felt a little lighter. 

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

Her eyes shone a little - something was wrong. 

“The demos. I- I was supposed to be on break. Three months, but they said you’d have a comeback and -”

He scoffed and plopped down on the studio floor, slowly leaning back to stare at the ceiling. 

“Well, they lied to you. Didn’t think they’d stoop that low, but they’re just going to sell those songs to someone in LA again, Y/N. Your music doesn’t stay in Seoul much.” 

She sat down next to him, throwing her legs out and stretching her torso over them, fingers struggling to perfectly reach her toes - a cm behind. 

He sat up slightly onto his elbows to reach to give her back a shove. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Whenever you do a project here, it’s usually not something you produce.” He realized he had begun to rub his hand in a circle onto her back. He slowly peeled his hand back and she stood up, staring down her shoulder and straight into his soul. 

“I’m going to make sure they can’t sell this one to LA. This one should stay.”

And stay it did. He never figured out what she did, what she threatened, if she held a gun to her head or a knife to her wrist - but in three months, the project was ripped away from some up and coming rookie group and handed over to them. Turned into a whole album where they let the members produce their own songs. Suddenly, everything lost in translation was perfectly coherent - Seoul accepted them. They won every music show they attended sans one, and they won their first Daesang. The group began to produce their own music, rapid comebacks followed, and they even managed to sell their excess archive for royalties - all chipping away at what seemed an endless debt. 

He still felt it - the crater between himself and Y/N. As he rose to exponential fame, at home and also abroad, she became reserved and ditched the youthful flamboyance she had started with. It wasn’t that she was any less known or any less revered, but she wasn’t the new craze anymore. That was him. She was something above and beyond. An established entertainer. She had her first Vogue Korea cover at 16. He was 19. She was 17. He won a Billboard. She performed at Coachella. 

They began to make enough money to have a voice and to have demands at the company. So, naturally, 19 came with a lot of secret girlfriends and hookups more than anything else. The company let that slip. Yoongi hyung got to skip a practice for a nap every now and then. They were still working 12 - 15 hour days more than they weren’t, but there was a gasp to be had. Hobi got more control over the choreography and gradually made things easier. Namjoon got outside collaborations. They were still working off the last of the 20 something million that had been invested into them, but their comebacks had caught up to them - they hadn’t had one in the past two years that didn’t more than make back the investments on them so there was nothing more to accrue - the debt had reached its toll, now they just had to pay it. 

He saw Y/n less and less, until, by some luck of the stars, they both landed on a break month at the same time in the same country. Y/N for the last two years had managed only a week or a couple of days of off time, and she was always stranded somewhere abroad. Once it was Hong Kong. He was in Taiwan. Felt close enough. 

They called each other almost every night, but then that turned into every other night, and then weekly five minute greetings - a sign that the other was still alive and well. 

It was one of those weekly calls where they realized that they were going to be in the same area code for the first time in two years. 

Jungkook was watching her newest music video. It was set to release a month out from that point - Y/N’s last physicals had come back not so great (because she intentionally starved herself of all the right nutrients to spark alarm) and so they thought a little rest was due. 

He was the first one to watch the full video.

He clicked the link in his email and tried to suppress his short breaths from the speaker. 

“Are you excited?” 

“I don’t know if excited is the right word. You seem excited.”

“It’s a really different concept. I don’t think it’ll take off, but I’m proud.”

“Everything you do takes off. Shut up.”

He hit play, and felt taken back. There was no dance, no green screen, no crazy CGI, and nothing else all that impressive. 

It was Y/N, in Hong Kong. In regular clothes. Videos of her eating, walking amongst street lights, trying street food, petting street cats, looking at skylines. The song wasn’t a loud, exciting, enthralling production. 

It was a love song, a sincere one. It was a piano, some synth, some bass. It wasn’t a radio song, but it wasn’t not a radio song either. 

And she. 

She was so human in it. 

She wore a short black skirt in one - nothing risque, ending just a hand above her thighs. A big hand, but still, it exuded a soft innocence. A white t shirt on top - fitting and floating just about the end of her stomach, leaving a sliver of skin to shine in the moonlight, then the lead of the restaurant she walked into. Her cheeks were pink and shiny - her hair down and floating about her. 

Her body, covered, but also on full display. His stomach sank, something crawled there that reminisced of his earlier bouts around her, but this felt sicker. This needed a cure. 

“Silence. You hated it.”

He took off his headphones, and realized that he felt an urge to cry. 

“I loved it, Y/N. Speechless is all.”

“What did you love about it?”

He thought, and thought, and tried very hard to think about something other than the shape of her hips in that little black skirt. 

“You.”

It was her turn to bathe in silence, and it didn’t put any fear in him. He suddenly felt like he had to be heard at this moment. 

“I loved how you looked. You looked really free and happy.”

“I am. I get to go home tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I thought you had another month left.”

“No. I wrapped up all of the late night show recordings, and my one award show appearance got cancelled - they didn’t promote me hard enough apparently. Some drama with the U.S. Execs.”

“So, you’re coming back to Seoul?”

“Uhhuh. I have an apartment now in the company building. It’s on the floor with the penthouses, but it’s not really a penthouse.”

“They’re letting you live in the apartments?”

“Yeah, I’ve had a designer there for the past two months. I’ve seen pictures, but I haven’t been in yet. Sleeping alone there tomorrow.”

“Oh. Sounds scary.”

A bit of silence lingered, and Jungkook could smell the disappointment - not sure in what exactly.

“I, uh - Where are you right now?”

“Japan.”

“I figured. Sorry, I just thought -”

“Flying back to Korea tomorrow.” 

“Oh.”

“I’ll stay with you. If you want.”

“Huh?”

“For your first night in the apartment. I can keep you company.”

“You don’t have to.”

He smiled at her generosity.

“What floor is it on?”

She wasn’t lying - it really was on the penthouse floor, not that he quite doubted her. Keeping her near the lower ranked, older idols was a disaster waiting to happen. The bunch tended to be a bad influence and tended to have nefarious intentions, at least as far as the management described them to be. They were like forbidden cities to the younger idols, and it had to be that way, Jungkook figured, because the older idols were privy to too much. 

But also, Y/n was deserving of the C-suite living. She brought in enough money to justify it - she was far beyond being tied down by any debt. Sometimes, Jungkook wondered if there was a chance that she was close to achieving a level of success that no one had yet. Jungkook wondered if she was nearing a status where she could change things for herself. Be a little freer.

He thought about the music video all night, all morning, and the whole drive over to the building. He easily scanned in - he’d hooked up with a couple of the older female idols and MCs that lived there. A couple of actresses. He’d never been on the top floor, but he thought about Y/n in Hong Kong the entire 48 floor climb up. 

The entire city glowed through the glass walls of her living room. A million blinks of neon yellow, pink, purple, and blue. The glow of the Han River danced in the reflection and on the white fur rugs dorning her floors. 

Within minutes of him entering and receiving the silent walk through of the house, they were sprawled out on that rug. Lights off, curtains open, city scape pouring in. 

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you think we’d get here? Like two years ago, if I told you-”

“Yes.” He didn’t need to think that through. Usually, their exchanges took a couple of seconds of deliberation. They weren’t ones to blurt back and forth - they were very intentional in their speech. Something that the adults around them praised them for, and maybe it wasn’t anything innate to their character but more so a reflection of how tightly wound the media training had made them. 

“Really?”

“For you - definitely. I didn’t know where I’d end up. I’m surprised about that.”

“I knew. For you. I thought it would happen quicker, but I’m glad it didn’t. And, Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you listening?”

“Mhhm.” His eyes were closed, his arms splayed out on each side, his fingers just barely grazing her bare knee. She seemed partial to tight spaghetti trap tank tops and short cotton shorts. That’s what she wore under her hoodie in the practice room. A different color iteration was on her body now. Anyway, he preferred to close his eyes around this outfit. 

“You’re not, but I’m glad it didn’t. You should hear how selfish this sounds - I was glad that I didn’t have to share you with as many people as I thought I would, as fast as I would.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. She had no idea. He had to share her with the world, like she did with him, sure. But in real life, with the people they knew, where it mattered, to the people with power and money - they all loved her more. He had concrete numbers in his head - managers, staff, acquaintances, mentors, you name it - of the amount of people who knew her and loved her and had access to her and he had to share her with. 

She never had to share, not like he did. 

“I guess I’m saying that I was scared to lose you.” 

Jungkook’s ears perked up, he crossed his hands behind his head and opened his eyes to stare at her, laying down next to him, staring right back at him. 

Her expression, as always, was dull. But her features, nothing of the sort. She had worn some dark lip tint during the day that had left a kissed look behind. Her undereyes were a shade too purple and dark, but it made the black of her irises appear darker, and pulled him into that tortured gaze. Her cheeks were pink from the warmth of the radiant floors - she wasn’t too sure on how to adjust it for now. The whole house emanated a soft, stable warmth. It felt neutral in the way that Y/n did. 

“I thought I messed things up. Didn’t call enough, didn’t check in. I thought, a lot, while I was away, that you were out with people now, laughing with them, getting closer to them, and I felt like, I was losing, I don’t know, like I was losing something.”

Jungkook, as he usually did, thought about his answer. 

“Like a game?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You describe your feelings in a weird way.”

She laughed a hearty laugh, it hit her eyes, which shined and shined endlessly. It took him back to the late nights in LA, immediately made him smile. 

“I missed you, too, Y/N. I didn’t have fun with anyone. I didn’t laugh with them. I promise.”

He had almost started laughing, too, but his words - warm and simple - somehow moved her to a frown, then pushed her to lean over and 

Kiss him on the cheek. 

She recoiled quickly, but he 

He couldn’t help it, he kissed her. 

He kissed her. 

She kissed him back. 

A million thoughts and sparks formed within and around him. His mobility reacted before his thoughts formed to the circumstances at hand. He pushed his upper body off so that he could hover his chest over hers as she laid back against the floor, hands immediately at his collar, not pushing or pulling. 

His hand came up to hold her cheek, thumb grazing along her jaw as he moved his lips to fit against hers, prying them open and tasting the thing he’s stared at for as long as he knew what lips were. Why they mattered. 

In the few moments it took for them to situate into the kiss, Y/N’s body seemed to burn up underneath his and her mouth opened to let out a sound he couldn’t ever forget from that moment on. 

Taking the opportunity, he licked into her mouth and felt the soft brush of her tongue against his. Rabbit like and hot, it moved endearingly, and her hands lost their restraint on his shirt. They scratched into his hair and anchored themselves there, tugging when his hand moved down to grab her knee. 

“Ah, Y/N…” he sighed out, moving his lips to start to pepper kisses down her cheek and along her neck, right by the jugular. 

“Jungkook, wait -”

He felt blood rush to his ears, and other places, and she started to squirm underneath him, and he felt this sick, sweet annoyance that he used to feel when he used to stay up, trying to massage some strain or knot out of Y/N’s back or neck or leg, and having to spend hours trying to get her to stay still so that he could get it done. So, instinct took over and he grabbed her wrists, pressed them into the floor above her head and pressed harder into her body. 

She became so pliant so easily, it almost startled him to feel all that resistance against his grip fade. 

He stopped kissing her, lifted his hips up, and stared down, breathless at her. 

“Sorry.” 

She gulped and slowly brought her hands down to rest at her sternum, cheeks burning brighter than ever. 

“That was weird.” 

“Yeah, we -”

“I can feel you.”

“Huh?”

“O-on my leg.”

His eyes burned from the embarrassment and he practically jumped off of her, flinging his back against the floor and staring straight back at the ceiling. 

“Sorry, Y/N -”

“No, no, I’m sorry, really -”

“Let’s just forget-”

“Absolutely. Let’s forget.”

They didn’t stay on the rug for much longer. Y/N showed him to one of the guest rooms, leading the charge through the long corridors of her apartment. He wasn’t quite convinced that it wasn’t a penthouse. He wasn’t so sure what made something a penthouse - he thought it was just a euphemism for a big ass apartment. 

He tried to focus on that - on the silly differentiation between different large, bodacious apartments - and not on the outline of her silhouette, a sliver of her lower back still peeking through despite her constant attempts to pull her tanktop over the waistband of her shorts, but both are too short. 

“I, uh, kind of designed this one for you. You know, if you’re ever mad at the guys, or anything.”

She gave the admission, parked in front of the door of the subject room, looking up at him with big eyes as if she didn’t know what they were capable of. As if his skin wasn’t itching to be on hers. 

Did she really not realize?

She took the silence with a nod and turned around to unlock the door, pushing it open and standing against it to let him in. He tried not to breathe in her scent as he stepped through the entrance. 

It was painted black, no windows, dim yellow lighting, gunmetal furniture and other shades of grey decor that all began to take familiar shapes. 

The room itself was huge, adorned with a small loft in the top right corner, leaning against a generous skylight showing a dull but peaceful Seoul sky. 

One of the walls was from ceiling to floor covered in different records, and it took him three separate glances to realize that they were their favorite albums. 

There was a gaming desk, and he walked closer to look through the frames that were placed around the monitor. Pictures of the two - one from a photoshoot where they almost killed each other. 

He was 16, she was 14. They were offered an innocent couple shoot for a small pizza chain, and it was the first time that Jungkook was given the opportunity to make money solo, outside of group activities. It was clearly above Y/N’s paygrade but he begged for her days and bought her everything she asked for at the convenience store, starved himself, until she agreed to it. But the shoot was unbearable. Y/N wouldn’t cooperate and kept asking for breaks. She refused to reciprocate any of his poses, and the outfits they were given looked horrible. 

He laughed at the picture before putting it down. 

“If you ever need to get away. Or, anything. It’s yours.”

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even really look at her. He walked over to the bed - huge, california king, had to be. The sheets were a soft but thick jersey material, felt nice under his palms. 

“Should I move in?” He joked, eyes glancing over the floor as he laughed. It took him a second to lift his gaze to match hers. It was comforting to see her look nervous. “I’m joking.”

“Y-you can. That’d be nice.”

Silence.

“I can’t. That’s not - Y/N-”

“Sorry, sorry…” She stayed by the desk, digging her pointer finger into the leather of the chair. “I actually thought about making this my room, but I changed my mind last minute. Some of my clothes are still in here.”

“How did you get them to let you live alone?”

She spun the chair slightly around and sat down, crossed her bare legs. They shone under the soft yellow lights. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I get that you make them bank. I get that. But letting you live alone, aren’t they risking all of that?”

It was her turn to scoff, but she lacked humor in her face. She was starting to look like a kid whose Mother’s Day surprise soured.

“Are they risking anything by letting you fuck half the company’s idols?”

His face recoiled in an amused shock, and his lips broke down into a surprised laugh. He wasn’t sure what button he’d pressed, but her anger was endearing. He felt things start to soften, and something childish return to the air between them. 

“Alright, Jesus, I guess word gets around.”

“Of course, it does. I did a duo stage with Yunjin, and she seems to know everything about everyone.”

“Well, the source material isn’t too bad, is it?”

She blushed almost instantly, her legs uncrossed to press together. She sat up straight. 

“I should go to bed. Tonight’s been weird.”

He nodded and yawned, crashed back against the duvet. 

“Fine by me.”

“Fine.”

“See you tomorrow.”

After she left the room, he felt it get ten degrees cooler in there, much welcome for a good night’s sleep. 

The room was like a little nest for him - it was right out of his childhood dreams. He could spend days locked in here with no complaints, so long as good room service allowed. He began to inspect every inch, for little goose eggs of Y/N’s thoughts and design. 

He found his way to the closet, unsure of what to find in there. He managed to recall himself to the earlier conversation when he was greeted by Y/N’s wardrobe. 

There were dresses, heels, random jewelry - nothing eyecatching, except for the thin drawers on the center island. It wasn’t his first time in a woman’s closet - he half (maybe more than half) knew what to expect.

He just didn’t expect it to look like that. 

Lace, tiny, and colorful. Some innocent and sweet, while others were mind boggling. Without thinking, he grabbed the one his eyes gravitated like a rabbit to.

It was a simple black bikini brief, but it looked soft, frequented. His fingers rubbed the fabric back and forth between his hands, irises darkening before he could realize what was happening. 

He was 19, and she was 17, and that night, Jungkook laid in the bed that she had bought for him, in one of the infinite amount of rooms in her mansion in the sky, and jacked off with a pair of her undies. It was one of the most emasculating experiences of his life. 

When he woke up, he was greeted by nothing but silence and an apologetic note on the kitchen countertop: “Sorry! Last minute schedule change - stay as long as you’d like. Call me when you can.”

He sighed and called her immediately. She was in the sky. 

“Germany, huh?” 

“Yeah, some German big money investors want dinner with a K-pop idol. I guess the agency is trying to go global. I don’t know. How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” he murmured, grabbing an apple sauce packet and a can of coke from the fridge. “I’m probably going to take you up on that offer. I’m going to crash here for a bit.”

“Until I get back?”

He stared at his reflection in a mirror in the hallway. It appeared distorted.

“Yeah. Until you come back.”

Within a matter of a week, he boned at least four girls into Y/N’s bed. Not the one she bought him, no. His new obsession was her bedroom. He felt watched in it - felt like there were definitely cameras somewhere in there, but he couldn’t be sure that she ever checked it, nor that he didn’t want her to. 

Sometimes, he felt like he was performing for her. He couldn’t really think of a reason as to why he would do what he was doing on her bed if he wasn’t performing for her. But the way he felt about it deep down was nothing better than neutral. He felt nothing. He felt nothing walking around the house like a ghost, staring at the city, drinking the days away until the next thing. 

The next thing for him ended up being his first world tour. 

He was gone for a full year, and then some, counting all of the pre- and post-activities. The group skyrocketed, gained credibility, and became enviable. They became national excellence, and perhaps more importantly, they all became millionaires. He actually got one of the penthouses that the company offered, and it certainly was different. 

Bigger, obviously. 

It was waiting for him at the end of the tour. He was 20, she was 18. He flew home to see what the company’s designers had done to it, and he was pleased enough. Everything was made according to his taste, maximizing his privacy and optimizing the amenities. Hot tub, personal indoor pool with a small rooftop courtyard. Outdoor bar, 24/7 catering. Random luxuries compiled into a gaudy, dark home. 

Impressive beyond measure. 

And yet, that night, while Y/N was away on promoting some European movie she filmed for Cannes, he ended up in her house, fucking some random executive into her bed. 

When Y/N was done accepting the Cannes award with the rest of her cast, Jungkook left for Japan, to work on the next album and to film enough music videos to satiate the hordes. At the same time, Jungkook started to hear rumors about Y/N dating some rapper named DEAN. 

After Japan, they were carted back to LA, where they worked on the B-side of their album and filmed more content. 

Rumors began to bloom and one dating rumor spiraled into a million dating rumors about Y/N. The rumor of all rumors was that she had gone absolutely nympho. Jungkook started going to the gym, religiously. There was not much else to do in the heat in California. He couldn’t wait to go home. 

Next winter, Jungkook was on a plane back to Seoul. Heavy snowstorms had littered the week with uncertainty about the state of his flight, but luck was on his side and instead of spending the night rotting away at the first class lounge, he got to fly home in stomach churning, god-quaking turbulence.

His phone rang on the car ride home. 

“Heard you’re back in Seoul.”

“It hasn’t even been twenty minutes. God.”

“I have my sources.”

His back shivered the slightest bit at the softness of her tone - she was almost whispering.

“Where are you?”

“Guess.”

“You’re in Korea.”

She laughed and the line crackled.

“A little more specific, maybe.”

His lips lifted into a devious upturn, which he straightened out almost immediately. He had gotten better at controlling his impulses. 

But despite the repression, something in him kept smiling at the picture that painted in his mind - vivid and imaginative. 

Sprawled out on the rug - clothing inapt no matter how much she tugs on it - her dark, midnight navy hair falling around her like a halo. 

“On the rug.” he said, trying to catch his own breath. “In your living room.”

“Bingo.”

“Should I reroute?” 

“Are we not in the same building?” 

He smirked once more. He didn’t care to repress it this time. 

“I got an actual penthouse - a block down.” 

Silence, but he could hear the smile. 

“Reroute then. Anything bigger than this would give me a headache.”

“I’ll see you there.”

He hung up and the driver swatted his hand at him - a friendly old man that had been with him since they had first started to make it big in the states. He used to drive Y/N, too. He knows of them as two friends. Innocent, sibling like kids. 

It made his stomach turn again, almost as bad as the turbulence did. 

“She just got back yesterday.”

“You drove her?” Jungkook asked, trying to dull the sound of his curiosity.

“She requested it. Her manager’s driving makes her nauseous, apparently. Not everyone has the skill. It’s learned, you know.”

“She’s still a brat.” Jungkook huffed, trying to hide a frown. He hated her creepy manager. Her being in a car with him made him nauseous, too. 

“She’s a bit different, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook’s ears perked up.

“What do you mean?”

The driver sighed, pulled into Y/N’s garage and put the car in park before finally turning to face him. 

“Mr. Jeon, I think something happened to her in Europe. She’s a tough girl, but she’s really quiet.”

Those words stayed with Jungkook during the entire 48-floor journey. He didn’t feel nauseous or faint or unwell, but he felt responsible. He didn’t know what the drive meant, and he couldn’t collect himself to be prepared for what it all might have meant. He felt a bit of fury in his bones, but he didn’t know who the culprit was. He brewed like that all the way to her apartment. 

He entered like he always did, but this time, there was no desperate girl joining him in his stumble through the entryway. 

But he wasn’t alone. 

He was accompanied by her sweet, recognizable scent, swimming through the months’ drained apartment. This was the smell that seemed to wear off with every girl that he brought in. This was the smell that lingered in his thoughts late at night. This was the scent on her cardigan that he kept in his tour luggage. 

It drowned the house so fast. 

He followed the scent to the kitchen, with loud but composed steps to warn her of his presence - to not catch her off guard. The driver’s words mingled with his excitement of seeing her again, and he couldn’t manage a poker face. 

She was standing in her kitchen, watching something on her phone with her headphones in, lips pulled into an inquisitive frown. 

The sudden shadow in the doorway made her lift her head up, and while Jungkook immediately beamed at her, her expression remained unchanged. Flat, but inquisitive. 

Jungkook’s smile dropped. 

She clicked the phone off and took her headphones off almost robotically. Jungkook felt a need to fill the silence. 

“I can’t believe you’re home.”

She looked around the room, back at him, then walked past him and towards the living room, phone in hand. 

He instinctively moved out of the way as she marched out of the doorway, and felt the beginnings of bewilderment as he followed behind her.

“Silent treatment?” He joked as she walked up to that cozy rug in the middle of her living room and slowly sat down on her shins. Her big, raven eyes stared back at him. 

“No,” she answered, slowly sitting on her hip so that she was splayed to one side, her legs laying out, tangled together. “Just tired. I’ve been slipping in and out of sleep for the past 24 hours.”

He took a millisecond to take in what she was wearing. A big t-shirt, clearly a man’s. He couldn’t see much else. He couldn’t really bring himself to think about it. 

“I heard Cannes was tough. What happened?”

Her head tilted. Her eyes seemed to get angrier but her face managed to stay neutral.

“How was the tour?”

He licked his lips and rocked onto his heels, trying to disperse the confrontational stare he was being met with. 

“I asked you first,” he tried to keep everything light-hearted at the end of it - a joke. Joking. Easy going conversations between friends - he was trying so hard to manifest it all so that he could push all this aside and enjoy her company. Get to really talk to her like he used to. 

“I couldn’t focus on anything at Cannes. People didn’t really like me there. I think I seemed vapid.”

His eyes softened and he immediately plopped down next to her on the rug. 

He was 20, she was 18. 

“We should drink if we’re going to catch up.” He offered, eyes twinkling with mischief, but a recognizable warm mischief. She needed only to lift one corner of her mouth into a smile before he dissolved into a fit of laughter and ran to the kitchen to snatch the expensive whiskey he had spotted. Cork popped, he sat back down and took down a shot before shoving it toward Y/N. 

“To shitty French people.”

She smiled and took a swig, followed it by an immediate hiss. 

“God, that tastes like gasoline.” She coughed. He gave her back a couple of pats and took down some whiskey through his insufferable grin. 

“Welcome back, Y/N.”

“Welcome back, Jungkook.” 

They smiled at each other, honestly. Finally. 

They spent the next hour finishing up half the bottle of whiskey and reminiscing about their childhood and the other members and catching up and everything else they could squeeze in before the alcohol started to turn sour, and certain words exchanged created black holes in their wake.

“The French weren’t all that shitty, you know,” she finally quipped, turning the conversation back to this doomed Cannes topic. “They had a point. I was being vapid.”

“How?” He asked with a genuine, drunk sincerity. “I have never known you to be vapid.”

She was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. It had been obvious to him at least half an hour ago that she was wearing the tiniest possible shorts - borderline boxer briefs - under her big, big shirt. 

He wanted to ask, but he didn’t. 

“I was distracted.” 

He really wanted to ask. He didn’t know how to not ask.

“Was it because of a guy?”

Silence. He dared to make eye contact with her. He could see red creeping into her cheeks and it was not a happy shade. She looked to be brewing. He wasn’t happy about her reaction, but in this rare occasion, his mind didn’t immediately reject the oncoming confrontation. He wanted to see where it would lead. 

“Sure. Losing my virginity, drunk out of my mind in a hotel room with three guys watching wasn’t ideal.”

Jungkook leapt up, body acting before the mind. The absurdity couldn’t even register to him. 

“Ya, Y/N-”

“I’m obviously joking. You want to ask, so ask.”

He bit his cheek, propped his knee up and leaned his elbow against it. Repositioning to dilute his anger. 

“It’s none of my business.” He started. “But I always shared with you. Whenever you asked. I wasn’t snippy because you asked.”

“Yeah, but I asked. You haven’t asked me anything.”

He swallowed a desire to go up an octave.

“Fine,” he said through a heartless chuckle, picking at the white fur. “Whose shirt are you wearing?”

She smiled, her hands reached for the hems. 

“Does it bother you? Should I-” 

His hands shot out to pull hers down, cementing the shirt to cover her abdomen. She looked at him like she had won. 

“It’s one of my dancers. It’s his shirt. Or maybe his boyfriend’s.” 

Jungkook let go of the shirt.

“The rumors aren’t true. I rejected my manager during the festival, and he went on a little PR rampage. He couldn’t actually afford to tank my image, given that he needs the commission,  so he just spread a bunch of rumors in the agency.”

“Y/N-”

“It’s fine-”

“I’ll kill him. Tell me to do it, I’ll kill him.”

She shook her head and laughed. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine. He didn’t really do anything. That wasn’t my issue with Cannes. Wasn’t my distraction.”

“Ok, so, what was it?”

She smiled. Red. Green. She looked evil and angelic. She clearly had a plan. 

“I can show you. New obsession. You might know of it.”

She grabbed her phone from one of the couches nearby and clicked a button, and suddenly, the TV rose from the floor and turned on. 

It wouldn’t be a lie to say Jungkook wasn’t surprised at what played. 

Y/N’s bed, the scene of the crime. 

It was sick, he knew it, but he felt a sense of pride. Because it bothered her? Because he had the power to make her feel something? 

He was ready to read into this confession, over and over again. 

But Y/N wasn’t the type to leave things out of context, to let you dwell on the answer. She’s big on confessing to the full crime. 

“Sorry,” he offered, staring at the screen and avoiding her gaze at all costs. 

“For what?”

“Your room is really pretty. The ladies like it, and you said I could use your house.” He stood up, sat down on the couch, and her gaze followed his every move. “Didn’t mean to upset you during your movie premiere.”

She smiled and paused the video of him pounding into a blonde idol. 

“Do you really not recognize this shirt?” 

Jungkook’s pride paused. His cloud nine felt the incoming rupture. He looked at it once again, he was perhaps too shy to really look at it before. He just saw the outline - the big silhouette. Didn’t question it much. 

It was an old shirt - washed a couple of times. 

It was his shirt. 

It was the shirt - 

“Let’s watch my favorite video. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Y/N-”

“Y/N-”

His voice jumped back at him through the large tv screen. So did that god forsaken shirt. 

It was the first night, in his new room, with the black underwear. The display included an unforgiving stream of sounds - he never realized how vocal he was being. 

“My favorite part.” She whispered, eyes genuinely widening with amazement like a child seeing a dead body for the first time. 

He came. The digital quality of Y/N’s security system proved to be better than most of the porno he watched. 

Though physical proximity felt like lava in this context, Jungkook willed his body to cross the threshold and drop back onto the floor and grab the phone out of Y/N’s hand, to click whatever button he needed to to end this charade, but she moved quickly, suddenly animated. 

She sprung off the floor and Jungkook came crashing down, she turned the corner into the long hallway while his legs scrambled to get back up. 

She ran full speed down the corridor, and he was hot on her heels but not hot enough. She bolted in and out of rooms while dragging her finger over some button to make the loud video playing in the living room rewind over and over and over on the part where he called out her name. 

His whiny, needy voice echoed throughout the house until he finally got to her in her own room. The last room on the corridor, and a bit of a sharp turn, but Y/N miscalculated the turn and ran into the wall, giving Jungkook his only opportunity, which he seized. 

He cornered her against the wall and ripped the phone out of her hand, and it wasn’t funny or playful. He was annoyed, frustrated, and angry. 

Angry in the way a father, a teacher, would be. Angry in a way that Jungkook hadn’t really felt and that Y/n hadn’t really seen. 

Once he grabbed the phone, he quickly swiped off of whatever app was blasting the video throughout the house and tossed it on the floor. 

“You can’t just throw people’s phones-” she began to protest but was cut short by his hand slamming down on the wall right next to her head. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?? What the actual fuck!?” 

Her playful smile dropped and she flinched against the wall. Jungkook was seeing red and just couldn’t get himself to feel bad no matter how hard her eyes pleaded for it. 

“I thought it was funny…” “What about that seems funny to you???”

He wanted to stop. He could see the fear, the regret in her. He missed her. He didn’t want to do this. 

“Sorry, I just -”

“Do you think it’s funny, Y/N? That I think of you like that?”

Her lips pursed, and what really infuriated him wasn’t that she genuinely looked scared, but more so that she looked like she was stifling humor behind a facade of fear to invoke pity out of him. It usually worked, but it wasn’t working now. It was just making everything worse. 

But in her silence, he couldn’t escalate anything to his liking. He just sighed and took a step back, frustrated. And slightly icky. 

“Just…” he shook his head, rubbed his brows. “Just delete the videos.”

“Why should I?” 

There - that was a good hook to keep complaining, and whining, and berating, and he really felt a need to do all three. He felt a need to lecture. To chastise. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?!? They’re illegal sex tapes, Y/N, are you insane?!?!”

“Yeah, in my bed! It’s you having sex with randos in my bed! How do you even have the nerve to get mad at me right now?!?”

“What about the video of me jacking off?? What’s your excuse for that?”

She flushed, mouth dropped open and closed as she seemed to suddenly be overtaken by a fishlike surprise. Her offense at his weird choice to have sex in her bed was warranted, he never took issue with that. 

Would have been happy to talk it out, get pointers on his performance. 

The anger seethed when he saw the last clip. That felt like a betrayal. He wasn’t sure of what. He couldn’t put it into words, but he felt like he didn’t need to. It seemed like a pretty per se situation. 

“I was just curious. If you liked your room.”

“Well, you could have stopped watching.”

“You were talking about me!”

“I don’t think that’s how anyone would characterize it.”

The two stared at each other, hard. Brows furrowed on both faces, hands clenched in some way or fashion. 

“You should have turned it off, Y/N. I…” he took a second to look down at his hands, slowly unravel the tension in his knuckles. “I don’t know what to do now. I’m sorry, I guess.” 

She looked remorseful, but not in any way more substantial than being caught with your hand down a cookie jar. 

She kept silent. His head hung low. They let the silence linger for a second. 

Then, out of the crisp static of the giant apartment, cut the sound of her limbs slicing through the tense air. 

With a gulp, her fingers came up tentatively to graze either side of his neck. Though he didn’t wish to, he had to raise his ashamed gaze to try to read her face, but before he could, she had already wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her tip toes to slowly but firmly hug him. 

He was engulfed in that sweet smell of her. She didn’t say anything, and suddenly, he felt no shame. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back, unconsciously trying to pull her in tighter but there was nowhere else for her body to go. 

He felt every inch and crevice of her body press against his, and beneath his closed eyes, he could conjure up a vivid image. Maybe Y/N felt a similar sense of curiosity because she slowly pulled away to look at him. 

Wide eyes, always wide. Always curious. 

Without speaking, her fingers found the hem of his t-shirt and began to lift it. Jungkook would have taken the damn thing off himself if he had been with any other girl, but he was just as curious about her. He felt like surrendering, just this once. 

So, he let her, without intervention, pull the shirt off of him. She retreated back to the wall right after that, and stared at him like she was unsure of the next step, but it never felt abrupt. He felt himself in a daze, in a dream. 

And he’d had dreams like this, so he wouldn’t be shocked. 

With the same gentle attention, he peeled his own shirt off of her. She had one of her signature tanks underneath, and he couldn’t bear to take that off of her yet. 

She shivered but the room wasn’t much colder, and he found himself hugging her again, closer than they’d ever been. 

It took a second before she softened into him, her cheek laying on his arm.

“You’re warm,” she mumbled, her words tickling his skin as she spoke. Her nails wrapped around his bicep, digging in to balance herself as she peeled off to stare up at him. “You’ve always been really warm.”

He kept looking at her. He couldn’t stop - he had no idea what he looked like - angry? enchanted? sad? 

She shifted her weight to her other foot and pushed up on her toes again, making him lean back instinctively.

Scared?

“What happens next?” 

Her voice became but a whisper, and it scratched against her throat. With the shirt gone, he now came to realize that she was in. 

Her. 

Black.

Panties. 

His stomach churned, out of turn and in rage of his sudden rush of desire. He dove his head into her neck, tried to drown it out with her scent, but she giggled against the intrusion and it made him sicker. 

He was off of her sooner than he thought possible. 

He had to take breaths before he could straighten up, and his chest was tight. His throat clenched, and there it was. Not again. 

He was 13. She was 11. 

—

Jungkook was never a fan of cardio. Not at 13, at least. And more than that, he hated getting yelled at, at an ungodly octave at 7 am after doing the most cardio his body has ever done. 

With sweat dripping off of his forehead, he was subject to his first 30 minute “professional critique” session. It was a voice lesson mind you….

He made it out of the practice room with his soul in pieces and his body barely intact, but by some sober wisdom, he managed to drag himself into a supply closet. The stench of cigarettes and wet mops flooded his nose, and he felt it. His chest tightened, his throat closed in on itself, and his face grew warm, so warm. 

To top the whole charade off, out of the shadowy shelves stocking toilet paper crawled out a tiny girl. Dark hair, wide eyes, bare feet. 

She looked like a ghost. 

She held a book and a small android phone and was too busy rubbing the sleep out of her eyes to notice the state of him. 

“Ever heard of knocking?” 

The witty slide was lost somewhere between the wheeze he let out before crouching into a corner, everything getting worse with the panic. 

“Oh my god, are you okay??”

He shook his head. Slowly at first as he rocked his body back and forth, but something compelled him to turn around and violently shake his head at her, eyes brimmed with tears. 

On the cusp of his death, he could make out the laugh she was trying to stifle. 

“What’s wrong?” her voice was soft as she was small. Not short, just lanky. Maybe small was the wrong word, but he wasn’t getting oxygen in his brain so give him a break. 

“I’m…” he choked, forcefully swallowing a gulp of air.. “I don’t know!”

“Oh god, shut up!” her hand collapsed around his mouth and with an inexplicable amount of strength, she pushed him further into the filthy, smelly room, making his head whirl. 

“First of all,” she seethed, her dark eyes shining in the dim light of the closet, “you’re fine. I can feel you breathing your nasty snot on my hand, so don’t worry - you’re breathing.” 

He wanted to bite her hand, but suddenly, an ounce of weight was lifted off his chest, he felt his lungs move a little. 

“Second of all,” she continued, choosing to emphasize her point by digging her shoe into his toes. He groaned against her hand and wished she had the foresight to give him the demand before she persisted with the torture. The reverse wasn’t very productive. “... some of us nap in this room. If they find out I’m in here with you, I am never going to debut, and I am never going to get out of this god forsaken country.” 

He felt himself tear up again, and he found no more relief in her words. The weight was back and heavier. 

“Ok, ok, stop. Sorry.” 

The change in her tone was maniacal. She flipped so quick from sounding like his voice coach (who he despised) to his mother (whom he missed dearly). 

“You’re having a panic attack. If they find out about it, they’ll drop you. So, you need to get it together.”

Immediate panic.

“That probably made things worse. Let’s try again. What’s your name?”

He waited for her to slowly pull her hand away, not all the way, but it generously rested at his chin. 

“J-Jungkook.”

“Hi, Jungkook. I’m Y/N.”

“I- I don’t care.” He spittled before collapsing down to rest his hands on his knees. 

“Ok, noted.” He felt her tap his back, rhythmic and solid. “You’re having a panic attack. You think you can’t breathe. You can breathe. You think you’re going to die. You’re not going to die. You think you need to run, scream. You don’t. You need a distraction.”

And distraction it was to be lectured by a sixth grader, so Jungkook stood up straight, ignored the pains in his chest and everywhere else and attempted to muster an insult back, but before he could - 

She kissed him. 

A quick, wet peck against his lips, eyes squeezed shut and face looking ridiculous. 

It was over as soon as it had happened. 

Suddenly, his nose picked up on the slight peppermint scent emanating from the toilet cakes. He noticed how neat everything was in the closet. 

And the lanky girl in front of him…

She smelled nice. 

“That was gross.”

“Healed ya.” 

Something told him that he was never going to be able to wipe that smirk off of her face. And before he could pull her hair, or kick her in the shin, she jumped out of the closet, and shut it quickly behind her. In a single moment, a whole charade of adult noises flooded the hallway and a whole tirade of badgering followed. 

—

“Oh, god, Jungkook -”

“Stop.”

She was trying to come closer, but his head was spinning enough. It was spinning enough. He felt three lifetimes drain out of him by the time he got himself to sit on her bed, but it was all hell, and it was like he couldn’t escape all of it. All of the women, the knowing that she had watched, presumably all of it. 

What about the time, with the 30 year old redhead, when he made her put on Y/N’s clothes? The tank with the shorts..

“Can.. can you open the windows?” 

He crashed back against her sheets as she hurried to push her green curtains to the side to crank open the windows as much as she could in the high rise. 

He stared at her ceiling, baby cherubs and the entire chapel wallpapered to her ceiling. Except it wasn’t. Some of it was carved, gold frugally throughout. 

Her room definitely did not look like his. Her room was a lot of bright colors, antique furniture from Europe or old American movie stars, and carpeted throughout in soft, camel color. It was like the 50s and the 70s threw up into a master suite. 

It was like a cocoon stitched of all of her costumes - various personas she’s sifted through with each comeback, each project. 

He closed his eyes, inhaled through his nose. 

“You realize that your house looks ridiculous, right?”

“Have you gotten medicated for that yet?”

“You should have,” he took another deep inhale, “kept it. How your designer had it. She knew what she was doing.”

“You haven’t gotten any better at holding it in. I’m surprised they haven’t medicated you yet -”

“They have, Y/N. They have. It’s just not enough sometimes and you…”

“I’m not the problem.” 

She was quick. 

“I can’t believe you let them do that to you.”

Jungkook stayed silent, trying to still his chest, but everything felt so infinitely out of his reach under these cathedral skies. 

In his daze, he hadn’t noticed that she had crossed the room until he felt the bed sink next to him. The touch of her leg against his made made his hands clench, but he somehow found the courage to sit up. 

“You power through it, but you don’t hold it in. That’s why they medicated you.” She mumbled, leaning down to peel one of her socks off. 

“What about you then?” he asked, breaths still only coming in through his nose. He was lightly bewildered, but his head felt like it was coming off of a fever, ready to enter another one. “God, Y/N what are you doing?”

She peeled the other sock off. 

She didn’t acknowledge him until she scooted back on the bed - as large as his - and climbed under the sheets. Only then, in the comfort of the bed, which had materialized around her like the rings of Saturn, hypnotizing him in, did his chest finally, at once, release its shackles. 

She looked up at him. 

Her wide eyes were slimmed to a softer yet darker stare and her hair had a sultry tease to it. He could hear the siren’s calls.

“Just come in…”

“Y/N, this is weird.”

He didn’t mean to sound petty when he said that. 

“I’m sorry if you were mad about that. I remember, you know.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Yes, you were. Just come in. We used to share the bed when I couldn’t sneak out of your hotel room. It’s soothing to sleep with another body around.”

He hesitated for a second further, not for any physical restraint. 

“How do you know that?”

“I read it somewhere.” 

He rolled his eyes and stood up to crawl into the very opposite side she was on, but the bed was cold, unnaturally cold, and he couldn’t stop shivering. 

His chattering teeth were uncharacteristically loud in the silence of her room, a vintage grandfather clock ticking somewhere in the four corners. 

“Jungkook -” 

“I’m fine.”

Another bout of silence, he continued to chatter. Something in him had paralyzed him from stretching out his limbs to warm the cloth. 

“Seriously -”

“If I touch you, I’m going to have another panic attack.”

“I’m cold.” 

Through his own chattering, he had been deaf to hers, but bracing his body for a second allowed him to feel her body shaking behind him. He looked back, only to find that she had her back to him, too, but even through the insanely heavy duvet on her bed, he could see her shoulders vibrating the slightest bit. 

Whatever he was feeling in his chest was no mind, no matter now. All he could focus on was his composure as he reached over and pulled her back into his chest, trying to leave as much space as he could between their hips.

Her breath hitched, and her hand grabbed at his, gripping her stomach as it pulled her in. She didn’t let go when he tried to pull it away, and he didn’t resist much. She brought it up to cuddle her cheek against it. 

Without question, missing their mothers, they had slept like this on so many nights when their hotel sleepovers went too long or the nightly manager controls left them stranded at the gym, unable to sneak back into their dorms. 

So, the position was more than natural, and yet it was something new. 

Because it was a cat’s nightly necessity back then, and he would have been better off cuddling a twig for some action, and they didn’t have to think twice about it. Sometimes, they’d wake up with their faces too close together, but that was easily solved by a shove or a punch and a quick adjustment. 

But this felt like a nuclear bomb and anything could have been a trigger. Her soft breath against the arm she was cuddling, his mouth buried into her hair, and her body - full and healthy against him. 

All of this bare skin. 

“Why are you so tense?” Y/N asked, and her tone was pointed, pleased. It stirred him, and he felt the nausea release, fizzle into the air and back to where it came from. The hunger started to take it over. 

“Go to sleep, Y/N,” he tried not to beg. Not that it would soften her. 

“I’m not really sleepy.”

“It’s like 2 am.”

“Not sleepy.” she whined, attempting to turn around to face him but he kept a stern hand on her shoulder, keeping her still.

“Don’t.”

“Whyyy….”

The whine dragged and she easily pushed off his grip and turned around, leaving but a hand’s distance between their faces. 

He groaned and extended his arms out, trying to push her away, but she fought it - credit to her, she really didn’t seem to be very sleepy.

“God, Y/N, just share the bed equally.”

A couple of more tussles later, they had managed to drift off to sleep in their separate corners, the bed all warmed up from their incessant fighting. But when they woke up, they had found their way back to the middle - pillows and blanket entangled, limbs twisted into unnecessary pretzels. 

It was a whole ceremony, coming to that morning. 

He first opened his eyes to find her face down into his extended arm, one leg squeezed in between his, the blanket clear over her head. 

Through a groggy vision, he readjusted his arm and pulled her head above the covers. The next time he woke up, her face was resting on his chest, and they were sharing a pillow, the other three were discarded somewhere by their feet. 

The third time, he felt more sober, and his eyes opened wider, she was snoring on his arm, hair covering her eyes. 

He cleared his throat and awkwardly reached over to brush it away, the small move making her eyes flutter open. 

That was her first time, she was almost still in sleep as she stared at him. 

“Good morning,” he whispered, breath too raspy to pronounce every vowel. She twisted onto her stomach, fists stretched out into a big yawn, before she twisted into a little ball inside the crevice. 

She seemed to quickly drift back into sleep, and he was aware of how malleable it made her. And he reached over, in the comfort of the warmth of the morning, and pulled her back against his chest, snuggled his hand against her cheek scratched lightly lightly against her scalp, as if petting a cat. 

“You’re going to choke me with your fat arms,” she murmured, shoving his hand down, but he opted to rest it on her waist, fingers curling around to hold her tight like a belt. 

One thing about Y/N was that she was much more shy in the morning light. Her mania slept in at night. 

She immediately pressed both hands down on his arm, trying to get him to release the grip, and he didn’t resist it, but didn’t let her push it off all the way. He retreated just enough to push his hand underneath her tank top, fingers splaying over her abdomen. 

“What are you doing?” She was drowning with doubt. The girl that would have let it all happen the night before was too shy for her belly button in the sunshine.

His middle finger circled it, intentionally, making her squirm right against him - morning hard. 

Her breath hitched, her whole body froze, and he didn’t care. 

She was 18, and he was 20, and he decided that they needed to release some of the steam or they would explode. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, his mouth pushing through her messy hair to press tight against her ear. “Did you watch it all?”

A gulp, followed by silence, and what he could imagine to be a flat mouth. 

“You did. I won’t ask why.” He kissed the top of her ear, she shuddered against him. He could feel himself digging into the very bottom of her back, too prominent now to deny, and he had the gall to readjust her so that he could rest himself right between her thighs, digging up into her warm, radiating center. 

“Were you curious, Y/N?” he asked, betraying his very last words. “You don’t have to answer,” he tried in an attempt to remediate, but she didn’t seem responsive to anything he said. Only his hand, which was now tip-toeing its way - one gentle touch after another - down to the hem of her boyshorts, his calloused nails catching on a loose string. Her hips twitched at the light touch, and when his fingers grazed over the same spot again, he could tell that the very least it tickled her, and more importantly, at the very least, it got her to initiate contact. 

Leaning back against him more intentionally now, he could tell that she could feel him, and he didn’t shy away from it, hummed for it, even - closed his eyes and silently begged for it.

And she obliged. If she had any experience, it was hard to tell, but this heavy reassurance that she didn’t, that drove him crazier than any skilled reciprocation could have. 

Her movements were small but the intent was clear, from the way she tilted her head to the side, trying to bury her face in the bedding, to the immediate shortness of her breath. 

As his arms wrapped around her, one forever running his fingers back and forth on her lower abdomen, the other curled up to cradle her face as he grinded into her, dragging his length against her, feeling her grow warm and wet through 

The plain, meaningless cloths separating them - too thin to to really barricade them from each other. 

His lips were in her hair, on her cheek, kissing alongside the back of her ear - everywhere, just everywhere - and his hands felt bursts of fire, of insatiable curiosity, and he couldn’t help it. 

As much as not looking her in the eyes helped make it easier to touch her, he couldn’t kick it anymore. He needed to know - her face, her lips, her eyes, her expression - where was she? What did she want?

Pushing her onto her back, to which she was so pliable, he crawled over her, lips slotting against hers as if this was routine, and if we’re talking dreams, then, sure, he was a pro.

He was, for simply a lack of better word, all over her. 

When her hands initially came down to cup his cheeks, he couldn’t stand it. He held onto her wrists and pushed them above her head, pressing them down onto the bed, but one glimpse at her like that made him groan, blush, release, and let her dig her hands around. She settled on his hair, fingers immediately curling and tugging, some sick instinct she’s always had, but in this context, it was nauseatingly charming and needy, and he groaned again, into her mouth this time, and grabbed her hands again, bringing them down in between them so he could stare at her as he kissed them - her fingers, her palms, her wrists. She started to giggle - just a hint of it, little quips - so he smiled back and put them down, felt pulled to and landed a peck on her forehead.

“I’m sorry for what I did here.” he whispers, face pulled into an innocent pout that makes her forget about the weight between his legs. “I’m sick. I’ll never do it again.”

“It’s fine,” she whispers back, voice raspy and cheeks glowing. Eyes low, tired still. 

“I’ll stick to my apartment. Or, maybe just my room. If I must.”

She thinks his words through, feels him calming down. Her eyes blink heavily, as if registering that the moment is done, the affection is coming to a close.

But the steam is out, for now, floating about around them. 

“If you must.” she repeats, tossing the words in her mouth as if she didn’t mean to say them.

He gets up without much flare after that, feels lighter even, and manages to ignore the death star that Y/N has become on the bed, face drained of her smile, eyes drained of the devilish charm - an unrequited exasperation. 

He offers plans for next week, maybe a movie night - haven’t had one in four years, wouldn’t it be nice? You’re both Korean celebrities now, maybe you can get back to hanging out like you used to. You don’t have anything coming up, right?

She stares at him across the kitchen island, as if the proposal never reached her ears. She says, almost independently, not in response to anything he’s ever said -

“I have to go see an apartment in LA.”

His spoon clanks into his bowl, and he flinches because that’s how his rambling probably sounded. 

What happened in that bed for Jungkook was supposed to be the beginning.

“An apartment. A second one.” He quips, eyes following his spoon as he stirs it into the milk. They should’ve ordered a Korean breakfast. She should have had one before she left. When was the last time she had a proper breakfast? Not crepes in Paris, not fantuan in Taiwan… 

He looks up, her back is to the kitchen island, and her face is but a reflection in the cloudy Seoul skyline blinking in the daylight through her windows. 

It’s raining. 

“Why do you need to find an apartment in LA?”

She barely looks over her shoulder, barely moves her lips. 

“Need a new manager.”

[maladaptivejeon]

𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 (𝕡𝕥. 𝕤𝕚𝕩)

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

summary: lawyer!au where burned out attorney Jeon Jungkook starts his own barely-functioning firm and accidentally hires an even bigger problem themes: oh brother, fastest slow burn imaginable; unhinged workplace dynamics; “what is wrong with you” x “no seriously, what is wrong with you” energy; chaotic coworker ensemble; blurred professional/personal boundaries; power imbalances; questionable coping mechanisms; dark humor; emotional repression series warnings: mdni! explicit content, workplace power dynamics, toxic coping mechanisms, degradation/humiliation themes, dom/sub undertones, *nal, restraint/bondage (handcuffs etc), threesome-ish situations, feetplay, s*xual tension tied to control/instability, messy consent-adjacent dynamics, s*bstance use, dark themes intertwined with s*xual content wc: ~18k(chapter total)/~88k (series total) a/n: sorry for the wait! also, i know this was supposed to be the last part, but it just got too long (maybe I'll consider moving over to ao3) also fair warning, this chapter is UNHINGED pls read at your own discretion (tg: @mikrokookiex @prxdajeon @bjoriis @somehowukook) ~ Part Six ~

For once, Jungkook woke up before Y/N. It was partially because he wasn’t used to getting this much sleep - he’d been making do with four hours on average for the past couple of months. A healthy seven was all he could take before the sunshine got to him - stirred him awake.

Y/N, with her eyes closed, skin once again bathed in the sunlight, was an angel. A gift. 

Jungkook didn’t know what to do but stare. 

He was tempted to touch - her lips, her bare shoulder, the hair at the nape of her neck - but he abstained because he was still oh so scared for her. Of her.

But soon enough, the sunshine got to her, too, and she began to stretch and kick - nothing compared to that first night at the hotel. All it took was a little restraint, it seemed. 

She wasn’t hard to domesticate. 

Neither was he because upon seeing her eyelids open - expression groggy - his mind swam towards a million housekeeping missions: make her coffee, maybe breakfast in bed, should I heat up a bath, book mani pedis, should I take her shopping…

“God, brush your teeth.”

Got it. Step one, brush his teeth. 

He did, she begrudgingly gave him a spare toothbrush from her bulk stash - she likes to switch them out often. 

“I wear down the bristles a lot.”

That wasn’t shocking. 

She got ready in the spare bathroom - he didn’t comment on it. Didn’t care. She needed space. They had spent too many hours together consecutively. That was fine. 

He was going to have to get used to this, and if he could just get the formula right, then maybe he could convince her to stand him forever. 

Move in with him. 

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. 

But by the time he was done and out, she was already in the kitchen with a fresh pot of french press coffee - she had a grinder for the beans, which also looked imported and sophisticated. Everything she did was imported and sophisticated in Jungkook’s eyes. 

He had come to appreciate her eye for luxury - it wasn’t mindless, limitless, pitless. She was so intentional about her life. He adored it. He adored it, knowing full well that his house was full of half-favorite junk. He had no set preference - just an eye for trends. 

Went right into the handbook.

“Do you take milk?” 

“Yes, and sugar.” 

Her eyes flitted up, disapproval etched in them. 

“I don’t keep sugar in the house.”

“Honey?” 

“I have berries.” 

He nodded, reminding himself to get rid of the cinnamon roll flavored coffee creamer in his fridge. And his basket of junk food in his pantry. 

She had already changed out of her pajamas - she was wearing the harem pants from the retreat and a similar wrap top from before, but this time it was baby pink. 

He was still in his boxers. He lost his socks at some point in his sleep. 

She didn’t seem to approve. 

She passed him a mug of piping black coffee as he sat down on one of the stools in front of her island and to her credit, it tasted great.

Would have tasted better with eight spoons of sugar, but it’s fine. He could definitely work with this. 

“What are you dressed for?” he asked, keeping it as casual as possible, but she was shooting absolute daggers at him as she sipped her coffee.

What did he do now?

“Hot yoga. It’s at noon.”

“Right. That sounds fun.” He commented, shoving a spoonful of berries with unsweetened yogurt from the bowl she had casually handed off to him. Despite it tasting like rabbit food, it made his heart warm up - she was feeding him.

“Jungkook?” 

His head snapped up from the bowl - immediately at attention.

“Yeah?” he choked out through a mouth full of yogurt. 

She hesitated, fingers tapping against her kitchen counter as she glared. 

“I know I was supposed to leave.” 

“Mhm.”

“Y/N, you wouldn’t let go.”

She scoffed.

“Are you serious? You couldn’t make me let go??” 

“Not while you were sleeping! I would have woken you up!”

“Okay, what would be the issue with that?? I would have just gone back to sleep!”

“But you said to stay until you slept! So, if I woke you up, I would have just stayed again until you fell asleep-”

“God, Jungkook, shut up!”

He stopped chewing, eyes growing bigger as he searched for some pity - some lenience. Come on, it was his first day on the job. 

She pressed her fingers into her brows before rubbing her temples - signs of a brewing headache, the cause of which being Jungkook - and letting out an audible sigh. 

“I have hot yoga in 2 hours.”

He nodded. Just as he opened his mouth to promise that he would leave in the next five minutes, she spoke again:

“I don’t want you to let this get to your head, but I haven’t really, you know, had full on fun for a while because you kept making things super confusing and difficult, so…”

He was hanging off the edge of his seat - eyes wide, mouth parted - he was basically a panting, drooling dog at that point.

“Do you need me to be clearer?” He could hear her foot tapping impatiently against the floor. Her arms were crossed, and her face was flush with desire. He was blind to it (mostly because of fear) until she stumbled those shy words out. 

Y/N… shy…

Immediately, something masculine in him woke up, solidified. He was always on the edge of  Does she like me? Does she like this? So any sign of approval was enough to make him feel like Adonis - and her, a frail little damsel in distress. 

“Okay,” he said, nodding and wiping whatever yogurt was left on his lips before walking over to her by the counter - a little too fast for her liking, it seemed, because she immediately took a step back, hand coming down onto the marble for some balance as he cornered her in. 

“I have to be at the yoga class in two hours. I cannot be late.” She lectured as he grabbed her by her thighs and hoisted her onto the counter, lining their hips up together to let her feel him. 

“I need one.” he said, soft and slow, as he pecked her jaw and her hands came to rest loosely at the nape of his neck. “Just one hour.”

He found her eyes, melted into lazy honey pots - already sedated by his touch - before leaning down again to kiss her, hands clutching desperately at her ribs, lightly tickling her shirt upwards.

She hummed a little in disapproval but understood the inevitability as he pulled away for the briefest moment to pull the top off of her - his moves always slow but decided. 

Her lips found his this time, hungry and honest about their hunger. 

Jungkook kissed back with a smile as his fingers gently traced the hem of her sports bra - pulling away again to look into her eyes for permission, but she was already nodding before his eyes could even ask the question.

And off it came and they kissed again as his hands grabbed her breasts, toyed with her nipples until she was breathless and whiny and he felt like he could move them down to her hips, hands bunching into the fabric of the pants, and slowly tugging them down, leaving her in her plain black thong.

He stared at her for a second as she steadied herself against the counter, chest moving a little fast with each breath, and her eyes bled of impatience.

“What do you want?” 

Her lips pouted, her brows furrowed, and she looked at him so distraught. 

He chuckled, villainous.

“Come on, Y/N, we only have an hour.” His voice sang the last few words a bit, and the amusement seemed to wake her up. She pursed her lips in determination, browsing her mind for something, anything she could offer in sufficient answer.

“All of it.” 

“Hmm?”

“I want all of it. Anything, whatever - just want you to do whatever you want.” 

She wasn’t pandering, she wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t shy. 

She was annoyed, and she meant it. 

He obliged - how could he not? 

He closed the distance and kissed her again, hand coming up to bravely wrap around her throat - a newfound territory that she almost immediately resisted, teeth biting down on his bottom lip in protest.

“You said whatever I want…” he whispered against her lips as he pulled away just to look down at her panicked eyes with a sleazy glaze that he couldn’t wipe off of his face.

He lightly squeezed his fingers at the sides of her throat, and watched in delight as her lips parted in a small, quiet, panicked gasp. 

His smirk deepened at that before kissing her again, squeezing a little tighter until he could tell that her air was actually constricted. 

“What a good, sweet girl,” he phrased, pulling off with one of those loud pops they always seemed to emit because they kissed too deep, too fast - he felt like he would forever feel this pubescent need for her. He’ll always be this unhinged.

“J-Jungkook- “Nuhhuh, Mr. Jeon,” he corrected, watching with delight as her hands came up to pull at his fingers around her throat, and he released a bit of the tension to let her take a few gasps of air, immediately kissing her through it as if he was greedy about her oxygen.

“I- I don’t want to-” 

“Why not?” He asked, lips moving off to her ear, her hair, back to her lips - he was losing it. 

“I like saying Jungkook,” she gasped out, hands shoving at his chest until he gave her a bit of space. 

The words hit him before he could fully look at her, and once their eyes met, he saw the sheer horror she had for how he softened at the mention of her preference for his name.

She likes saying Jungkook.

He doesn’t want to, but he goes all vanilla inside, hands lose their fervor, and he just wants to hold her, praise her for being so good about this - for being so good about her feelings. 

“No, no, don’t get that look-”

“What look,” he dismissed, lips mindlessly wondering down to her collarbones, her shoulder. “I’m just deciding what to do with you…”

“No, that’s the look you get when it’s time for bed and you don’t want me to touch you anymore, I hate that look.”

Well, vanilla dissipated. 

At her beratement of his emotions, he was immediately locked back in, lips and teeth angry against hers before slowly pulling her off the counter to stand her against it, evoking some confused moans out of her mouth as his hard cock dragged against her increasingly wet center in the process.

He kept kissing her, hands coming up to cradle her jaw, brush back her beautiful, long hair, wrapping around his hands like he had pictured doing back in that hotel room…

And he pulls. And she moans. And, by god, he was going to pay upwards of his net worth in tithings for the blessing that it was. To get to do her. 

And to do her was the mission indeed - Jungkook wasn’t here to have sex. He was here to make a point - from now on until forever.

I’m right here. Not going anywhere.

“Jungkook,” she moaned out, a touch of discomfort in her tone as he pulled again, using the angle to plant his lips onto her jugular.

“I’m right here,” he whispered onto her skin, slowly kissing his way down to her sternum, hands coming up to cup her breasts again, grazing over her nipples before dragging them down to hold her by her hips as he kissed down her navel, eyes looking up at her like she was Athena and he was a humble servant boy for her temple.

She brought a nail up to her lips to chew when he kissed over her belly button, open mouth and tongue shyly circling it before moving over to her hip bones, laying a soft kiss on them and watching her shudder as his eyes caught a glint of her wetness.

“Whatever I want right?” He asked again, and she nodded - a bit like Jungkook did when she asked him to sleep over.

He stood up at her enthusiastic answer, hands grabbing her shoulders and abruptly turning her around, making her put her arms out against the counter for balance.

“Relax,” he ordered, his hand between her shoulder blades as he pushed her chest down onto the counter, watching those two dimples accentuate at the bottom of her spine - her long back, the curve of her tiny waist - an artwork in front of him. 

He poked his tongue against his cheek as he tried to focus - tried not to melt, tried not to shove his entire length into her leaking entrance. His hands rubbed over the rise of her ass before landing a harsh slap on one of the cheeks, making her jump a little onto her tippy toes, chasing his hips back, but he was careful to keep the clothed monster chained for the time being. 

Until he got permission. 

He crouched down behind her, hands slowly dragging down to the back of her thighs, where he gripped and ripped her tightly shut legs apart, leaving her pretty, glistening pussy open to his assault.

He had a vision of how restrained he’d go about it this time, but he was too hungry for a taste. A strong lick up the flimsy fabric of her thong was satisfaction enough for him to take the second to slowly drag the fabric down her long, toned tan legs. 

He left an uncharacteristically soft peck on the back of her thigh given the circumstances, but she didn’t seem to mind a bit of the vanilla peeking through. 

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, testing the waters a bit more. 

“I know,” she gasped out back, “I work very hard to look attractive.” 

He smiled, vanilla retreating at the friendly intrusion of her ego in an otherwise compromised position. 

His hand came down to slap her ass, making her yelp, push onto her toes again and try and shut her legs. 

But he kept her open, reveled in how wet she was, how good she looked. 

His grip on her thighs were bound to lead to a bruise, but the rougher he was, the louder she got, and he couldn’t just ignore those cues. The animal driving his body right now wouldn’t let him. 

He watched the curve of her back as he steadied his hands on her hips and kissed into her, feeling the familiar tension of her walls against his mouth. He hummed at the way her hips swayed mindlessly against him, rewarding it with a light slap, and she moaned back, immediately registering it for the encouragement that it was. 

When he pulled away, his fingers found the place of his tongue and with little hesitation he pushed his middle finger into her, angling it up to graze her walls as he slowly massaged the muscle, knowing that his pace was absolute torture at this angle. 

“Jungkook,” she hummed, fingers reaching back for him, but he didn’t pay it any mind. Didn’t offer any comfort.

Instead, he pulled his finger out, and brought his mouth down on her again. 

Except this time, he tried something new. 

His tongue explored a little further up, circling the tight, pink ring of muscle at her other entrance.

She squealed, and he could make out what he presumed to be the sound of her biting down onto her hand. 

“Never tried that before, have you?”

“... No,” she huffed out, lips pouted against the dark marble. “Have you?” her tone was accusatory.

He smirked, circled his tongue over the muscle again, waiting for the arch of her back before pulling back to confess: “No.”

“I-I don’t believe you.”

He smiled again - couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot as he kissed into that tight ring, ears memorizing every single note of the noise she let out at that. 

“Jungkook, I r-really don’t believe you.”

He didn’t care. It was the truth. He couldn’t even picture anyone he had ever dated requesting this, let alone the idea spark up from him. 

But with her - he just wanted to.

Anything he could do, he wanted to do, it seemed - his desire was endless, relentless.

She was resorting to short gasps and curling her fingers around the marble until her knuckles turned white, and Jungkook couldn’t stop pulling back to take those little details in before diving back, rendering her a little senseless.

“MmHm- Ah - Jungkook, enough, god, what’s your end goal here?”

Jungkook pulled away, gave her ass another slap (enjoyed the ring of another adorable yelp from her) and stood up, carefully pulled himself out of his boxers and let his tip graze her soaking wet entrance. She pushed back before she could stop herself.

He slapped her ass again, a little harder than he had before. 

“W-What-”

“Not there. I’m saving that for a special occasion.”

With her cheek pressed against the marble, and her eyes disassociating into the wall off to the side, he watched her expression change - eyes widen the slightest bit and teeth graze her bottom lip - as he moved himself to graze her other entrance. 

“J-Jungkook-”

“That’s what I want.” His words were decisive, authoritative. There was a lack of question, lack of an offer - it was more so a demand. 

He watched her back tense, her fingers curl against the marble, getting ready to straighten herself out, but his hand remained steady between her shoulder blades, keeping her down for the time being, and enjoying endlessly the annoyed little whine she let out at that.

“I-I’ve never-”

“Do you want to?” He pressed himself a little harder against her, immediately feeling the resistance from her body. 

After a moment of silence, he thought it’d be nice to remind her: “Whatever I want, right?” 

She nodded without any hesitation at that. She had that determined little look in her eyes again like the time she first kissed him. 

“And if I don’t like it?”

“We stop.”

She nodded again, squeezed her eyes shut. He laughed a little, hands grabbing at her shoulder to bring her up, turn her around, wrap her into a tight hug, enjoying the bare flesh. 

“What are you-”

“Not like that, silly,” he whispered into her shoulder, arms tightening around her waist as she let out a little gasp at the feeling of his member rubbing against her abdomen.

“I wouldn’t have minded,” she whispered back, hands coming down to push at his biceps until he took a step back, stared at her - hair a bit unruly and cheeks pink. Lips bruised.

“I wouldn’t either,” he said, small frown on his lips as he came down to kiss the corner of her mouth, frowning a little deeper when her hands pushed at his chest again, trying to break the intimate contact.

“Then, why-”

“I want to take my time,” he said, looking into her eyes, hands at her shoulders holding her squirming body still. She tried to avoid his gaze - annoyance swimming heavy in them. “I get to, you know, because I don’t know how long I get to have this.”

“Jungkook-”

“Don’t Jungkook me,” He straightened out, stopped trying to meet her gaze at her height. Chose to look down at her instead, and her obedience almost immediately snapped back into place.

“Go to your bed.”

“And do what?”

“God, Y/N, I don’t know - lie down on it, maybe!?”

And she did, in a poorly smothered fit of giggles, pleased with his anger as she practically skipped over to her room, leaving Jungkook in the kitchen, shaking his head with a lazy smile.

But the sinister monster inside of him was long released this morning. He wouldn’t take an hour - he’d take five, six, fuck it, the whole day if he wanted. 

He was starting to realize, as he ventured over to her fridge and fished out a few ice cubes into a glass, that she was willing to let him get away with it. 

His eyes flickered over to the clock on the fridge, excited for her to bitch about being late to yoga with his dick stuffed deep into her ass…

In an attempt to not cream in his boxers before getting a chance to live the fantasy, he met Y/N in her room, where she looked like a forest nymph laying on lily pads as she hopped into the mess of comforters they had left in their wake and laid back against the luscious bedding with her arms stretched out above her head, legs stretching out too to join in on the show.

Jungkook watched from the door frame, glass in hand, drinking in the whole scene with that same lazy smile until Y/N finally looked over at him, making that smile darken into something somewhat intimidating.

Not quite there, yet, though. Y/N knew she had a few more buttons to push before he got there. 

“You look excited,” he praised, climbing into the bed and pulling her into his chest, arm coming around to hold her still as he kissed her again, burying her into sheets. Her fists curled at his sternum, and he knew that she could feel his heart beating with that pubescent excitement that he couldn’t helm. Not now, maybe not ever. 

“I’m scared,” she whispered back into his mouth, those fists unfurling to run through his hair, forcing soft little moans out of his mouth as her fingers scratched into his scalp. “Just trying to look brave.”

He pulled away, pulled the covers over his shoulders as he laid his weight on her, not shy about sinking her further into the bed. He kissed down to her neck, held her face in his hands like it was a crumbling marble statue, and he let their hips meet each other, grind against one another, without restraint and without thought.

She lost breath quick, and became desperate fast - every time. Her nails scratched and picked at him, and her lips couldn’t keep up, and he loved it - he loved that he could tell when she was cumming.

And so she did, and he never stopped touching her. Stilled his hips, sure, but his lips kept peppering kisses down her chest, down her abdomen, pulling the covers down with him and leaving her sensitive, warmed up body bare to the cold of the room.

“Jungkook, wait-”

“No,” he insisted, fingers trickling down between them to circle that muscle, pushing at it to measure the resistance - I mean, how tight could it possibly be?

Upon pushing the first knuckle in, and watching her face absolutely crumble at the intrusion, his mind spun with how tight it actually was.

He would die if he was in there.

“Y/N,” he praised, eyes scanning every inch of her face as her lips split open into a voiceless, breathless gasp, and her beautiful brows furrowed to frame her eyes - sad, but tempted.

The noise she let out was song in pure form, and Jungkook kissed it in as he pushed the rest of that finger in, both of them letting out another slurry of moans into each other’s mouths as their tongues got messy, desperate. 

Y/N, for the first time in her life, felt the incessant need to detach from her surroundings melt away and she felt herself attach so intimately to everything around her - to the man holding her down with the weight of his body, to him reaching into places no one else had, to the care with which he stared down at her.

For the first time, she didn’t resist or hate any of it. It only added to her infatuation of the moment, and she looked infatuated. Somewhere between the foreign pleasure, and a familiar pain, she had seemed to find equilibrium.

Here, in his arms.

He tested the waters, pushed that finger in and out as slow as he could before ripping the sheets off and crawling down between her legs, letting his mouth join in on the intoxicating torture.

Y/N was a mess - she was mumbling, moaning, crying - soft and easy. He pushed a second finger in with the aid of his spit, and curled the two fingers as he picked up speed, mouth opting to latch onto her cunt, fucking her with his tongue before moving on to massage her clit back and forth.

Her hands pulled at his hair, his hands, his arms - anything she could reach. She seemed to be barely awake by the time he pulled his body back up, kissed her with that same mouth as if it was nothing.

And she didn’t protest - didn’t push. Just kissed him back with a mess of moans that seemed to resemble his name. And every time she managed to actually say his name - a mindless, barely pronounced “Jungkook” - he felt a shiver go through him and he felt his balls tighten, threatening to end all of the fun before he got through the gates of Eden.

He couldn’t let that happen. He grew a bit frantic and shakily reached over for one of the ice cubes, which had already produced a little puddle at the bottom of the glass. 

He took the melting ice in his mouth at first, kissing Y/N with it before she could really register it. Easy enough, she kissed back after the initial shock, moaning at the pass of the water between their tongues, enjoying the wetness, the lewdness as he reached for another, dragging this one directly against her skin.

He pulled back to watch her stomach contract and inhale as he dragged the ice cube down to her navel, past her pubic bone before dipping it between her folds. 

That concerned, fucked out expression was immediately plastered onto her face as her legs curled up, tried to close around his hand, but his fingers nimbly moved it down to her asshole, shoving it in without a second thought.

“AaH- Jungkook, fuck-” she cursed out, hands clutching at his neck as her eyes squeezed shut, tried to adjust to the sensation. 

He didn’t care to wait for her comfort. He pressed his hip into her thigh, forcing her legs to straighten out and stay open as his fingers pushed in, rubbing the quickly melting ice against her walls, feeling it moisten her passage just for him.

“Y/N…” he whispered, trying to get her to focus as she trashed a bit back and forth against the pillows, hands held down by Jungkook. 

He let go of one of her hands to grab himself, line himself up with that entrance.

She stopped moving, their eyes locked, her breath hitched and she looked at him as if to say wait!

So, he did, holding himself steady (losing his mind while doing so) and staring down at her with the least crazed look he could manage.

“If I don’t like it…”

“We immediately stop.”

She nodded, pulled him down for a kiss as if to say I want nothing to do with this, and Jungkook took the distraction to slowly push through that tight, tight ring. 

He couldn’t. It felt impossible.

Almost immediately, the squeeze felt unreal - unsurvivable. 

That coupled with the moans he was swallowing down, her sweet little pants into his mouth - he was going to cum in minutes if not seconds.

But he could sense the challenge that this was for her - that ultimately, she might not mind if he were to get his business done and over with.

“J-Jungkook-” she moaned out, head thrown back and fingers scratching down his chest as he managed to shove an inch of himself in before collapsing his head against her chest, panting through the absolute massage her walls were giving his dick.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he begged, lifting his head to stare desperately into her eyes, but he saw her lips open in that familiar first vowel of his name again. 

He felt like he had no choice as he slapped a hand over her mouth and held the top of her head steady, stroking her hair as he started shallowly thrusting, managing to slowly slip more of his length into her that way. 

He felt the temporary coolness of her walls, the gush of the water, as he thrust fully in, and by then, Y/N was a mess of tears and moans, and his chest was covered in her nail marks.

“Y-You’re-” he kissed her again, couldn’t handle the sheer siren song of her voice. Anything she said was a trigger pulled on his grenade, and he wanted to enjoy this for at least thirty seconds.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me,” he praised, hand covering her relentless mouth again as he looked down at her, watched her eyes, memorized them. “So, so good for me. You’re - agh, fuck - tight, god, Y/N, you’re clenching.”

She whimpered, a tear slipping through as she shook her head, hands shoving at his chest. He slowly pulled his hand away, choosing to peck down to her jaw instead - hoping that it was enough to distract her from articulating herself, but she seemed determined. 

“Jungk-kook, agH - I-I’ve never, mghm-”

He didn’t know what possessed him - where he ever learned to do this - but he felt compelled then and there to join his fingers in the assault, pulling away enough to stare down between their bodies as his fingers thrust into her pussy, two at a time, with his thumb coming down to rub around her clit.

Her legs tried to close in on his hand again, and her hands were desperately pushing away at his as she whimpered, but she was a mess.

She was wet, leaking, making it easier and easier for him to thrust in and out, and the new join of the assault of his fingers was only making the clench of her muscles worse around him. 

He was going to come in her - he could tell, and so could she.

She didn’t seem to love the idea.

“J-Jungkook, not there, please-”

“Why?” He asked, picking up speed to make her shut her mouth, and it worked fine enough because she couldn’t complain through her moans. “Come on, Y/N, defend yourself for me.”

She shook her head at him, annoyance slipping into her features, but dissipating with the bouts of pleasure that were coursing through her. 

“No?” He teased, keeping his fingers fully filled to the hilt in her before massaging over a particularly tight bundle of muscle - one that seemed to keep making her cry out.

She shook her head again, teary eyes opening up to glare at him.

“Too fucked out?” He continued to tease, lips coming down to peck her open, panting mouth as his thumb picked up speed on her clit, too.

And then, for the first time in Jungkook’s life, he made a woman squirt.

Unexpected, shy, and conservative, it was a momentary firework, which only added to the slick, to the blush taking over her decollete. 

“God, Jungkook, stop, that’s so-”

Before she could even utter the word embarrassing, Jungkook peeled his fingers out of her and stuffed them directly into her mouth - making her let out the loudest objection she could manage given the circumstance.

“Good girls keep their mouths shut when they’re getting dicked down,” he lectured, looking directly into her angry, fired up eyes as he said it, and that appeared to be the last straw.

In a second of having his guard down from the pleasure he was siphoning, Y/N managed to trip him up, push him onto his back and sit down on his cock, losing all the previous numbness that seemed to paralyze her muscles.

No, she was awake, alert, and annoyed as she circled her hips, chasing those sensitive spots in her that he had been hitting for the past…. Four minutes? (Jungkook was proud enough of that). 

In a moment’s notice, he was the one now panting and begging against the sheets, hands mindlessly resting on her hips as her tight asshole milked him for all he had.

She was tight, wet, and her hips had a rhythm that was practiced and scientific - it was perfect. Just fast enough, just slow enough. 

Her hands rested on his v line, her hair floated around her in a halo of curls.

“Not so proud now, huh?” she teased, above him, lips pulling into a smirk as her eyes shone wild. “I’ve been watching you try not to cream your pants for the past ten minutes, how’s that going now?”

“Y-Y/N-”

Before he could even think to get a coherent sentence out, she had slapped him. 

Full on, full strength, slapped him across the face.

His dick twitched notably inside of her.

“You like that, you piece of shit?” She spat, that smirk still on her lips as Jungkook whimpered, hands tightening their grip on her hips.

“Y/N, please-”

Again, he got a solid slap across the face, breath and sense knocked out him. She moaned just as loud as he did at the assault, but she kept riding him through it, and he felt it building, his head clouding.

Just a drop to push him over and - 

“Are you going to come in me?”

He sure was. 

Eyes clenched shut, hands holding her hips down with an iron grip, he came for what felt like a good minute, voice high and whiny as he moaned out her name, over and over until she leaned down to kiss him, to stroke his hair, to whisper torturous little taunts between the kisses - “not so strong now, huh… pathetic…”

He began to chuckle at her mean little quips, and she laughed back as she slowly pulled off of him, letting his wet member lay flat against his abdomen as she curled into his side, mouth coming down to bite at his shoulder.

He stared down at her, lazy and pleased at the affectionate move. Didn’t think her capable.

“My boyfriend.” She whispered, eyes twinkling with an evil joy. 

It was Y/N and her dangerous mouth that kept them chained to that bed for the rest of the weekend.

They ate, showered - occasionally.

But mostly, they fucked, cuddled, watched movies, and then fucked more. Every now and then, Y/n would drift off to her balcony in her robe, a mug of hot coffee and a book she needed to finish. Jungkook would sit at her feet, massaging her pretty ankles as she read to him, then they’d go right back to fucking, then eating, then showering. 

Sunday at 10:48 p.m., she was freshly showered, wearing a lazy pair of pajamas - a large tshirt and some loose, short shorts - and so was he - in one of her ex hookup’s sweatpants.

They were in her movie room, cuddled up on the couch. She was lying on  top of him, laying her head low on his chest. Her long legs stretched out behind her and she occasionally kicked them back and forth. Her arms were wrapped around him, grip tighter than you’d assume.

In a matter of 48 hours, she had become insatiable when it came to physical contact - it’s like she was starved of it. And she was. She starved herself from human connection and contact for as long as she was alive, and Jungkook was on the biggest high of his life knowing that he had gotten her out of that drought.

What haunted him, increasingly, was that he wasn’t the first to do it.

He could see it in her eyes at certain moments when she seemed to go somewhere else to recall. It’s like she would leave the room for a second without ever getting up, in the middle of an intimate moment in bed, or a domestic exchange in the kitchen, or when he held her like this on the couch watching old cartoons - their brains were too tired, preoccupied, to watch anything of substance. 

He noticed the shift in her expression when the little amused smile on her face began to fade into a deep set frown. Then, her eyes looked like they were staring through the TV and beyond the walls of the house. 

Like she was seeing a ghost.

He hated it. He always found a way to jostle her back to him, but it was getting increasingly difficult.

This time, he chooses to tickle her sides a bit, makes her jolt her head right back at him, but she’s not back yet. She’s staring past him, through him - she’s staring at a memory. A ghost, always. 

“What are you thinking about?” he tries, but he’s given that same question to her so many times in the past two days. It’s never met with an answer.

She just lays her head back on his chest, stares at the TV like it’s not even there. As if there are no pictures moving around on it. As if nothing’s really real.

And that’s why Jungkook has refused to consummate the past two days. Yeah, they’ve fucked - is there a more adult way of putting it? They’ve had fun, fooled around, did everything they could except actually, fully fuck. 

He’s scared. He feels like a college freshman getting targeted by some D1 asshole trying to steal his virginity. He feels, in some paranoid delusion, that if he gives it to her, she’ll get what she came for and leave, forever. 

He holds her a little tighter before pulling her up into a kiss - lazy, barely reciprocated.

“Come on,” he whispers against her teeth, pulling away just enough to stare down at her irises. They meet his, she’s back. 

“What do you want?” she asks, dropping her back down to the crook of his neck, shielding her eyes from the glow of the TV, which feels harsher and harsher against the dark of the room.

He slowly strokes a hand through her hair, the other wrapping around her waist to pull her closer against him. Gets her attention. She moves her head to kiss him, really kiss him. 

Hands cupping his face, mouth open, legs straddling his hips. 

His hands meet her hips just as fast, instinctively pulling her closer with a grateful gasp into her mouth. She reciprocates with a moan and a bite of his lip.

He pulls away, holds her lips at bay for a moment. 

“I want to know what you think about.” He confesses, feeling a bit emboldened. “When you stop listening to me - I want to know what you think about then.”

Her eyes are a bit wide, her brows a bit confused - no one has noticed before it seems. Not exactly. He’d also always read it as apathy, but, no, she goes somewhere. It’s not that she doesn’t care - she’s just not there. 

“I’m-” she pauses, hesitant with her transparency. Teeth chew on her bottom lip. 

He adjusts a bit to sit up against the arm of the couch, dragging her up to fully sit on his lap, her hands a bit unsure of where to land. He grabs them, gives each a kiss as he stares up at her, lovingly watches her grimace at the move before dropping them and kissing her again. 

He feels like a bear in a honey jar. It’s so sick that he just can’t stop kissing her.

“I can guess, ya’know,” he whispers, pulling away and holding her jaw just tight enough to tilt her gaze toward him. “Who you’re thinking about.”

She blushes, digs her nails into his shoulders. 

“Whatever,” she murmurs, avoiding his eyes. Avoiding the accusation. 

“Do you miss him? What do you think about him?” 

She stays silent for a moment, eyes still avoiding his before she speaks, honest and open. 

“Maybe just that,” she licks over her lips, closes her eyes for a second before opening them again, still not looking at him. “That if I did what you did - went to him, gave him that offer… then, maybe, he wouldn’t have…”

She trails off, eyes wide and stuck on a spot on the floor as she goes there to the moment where she could have done that. It makes his stomach flip, his heart tighten. 

“Why didn’t I offer it to him?” 

She looks at him when she asks the question - eyes brimmed with the most conservative share of tears. 

He feels like his organs liquify at that. He curses the ghost in the room with his untainted memory and the glow of Y/n’s nostalgia. How could he compete with that?

“Do you think it’d be funny seeing you like this now?” He tries hard to put a spin on it. 

She raises an eyebrow, fights off a smile. Bingo.

“I guess. He’d think it was funny.”

“What was your first time with him like?” 

Wrong turn. Wrong turn. Wrong turn. 

She stares at him, taken back but not entirely shocked by his sudden onslaught curiosity.

“Like, the sex?” 

Jungkook blushes, shakes his head.

“No, no, sorry, I don’t know why I asked that, sorry. Ignore that.” 

“It hurt.” 

Oh. 

“Because, you know, it was my first time.”

“Right, right…”

“But he was really nice about it. He had offered for so long, and then we got really drunk once and I finally said yes, and he didn’t want to because we were really drunk. I held him down.”

The amount of criminal and civil liability that flashes across Jungkook’s eyes is innumerable. Not an ounce of that interaction is legally, morally sound - it’s exactly what he’d expect of Y/N’s first time. 

“Did he enjoy it?” He asked, slowly and as non-accusatorily as he could.

She nodded, laughed a little.

“Yeah, we fucked like all night after that. The second, third and fourth time were not painful-”

“Ok, OKAY, okay I got it. Thank you for sharing.”

And kept sharing she did. It was like Jungook had pulled the plug in a quarry - she talked about him for hours after that, answered every question Jungkook had until they both knocked out on the couch. 

He learned that they had been study partners - assigned for a class. He was loveable, she was scary and anti-social. Made a good duo as study partners, but were polar opposites. She got shit from the other girls he was hooking up with. He got shit from professors that clearly had a thing for Y/N. They were always friends, but after they hooked up that one night, they were inseparable. It was a bit unhealthy at first - they were deadlocked in academic competition and obsessed with each other. But as they both got pulled off in different directions, things fizzled - they fell into a rhythm that both of them were scared to disrupt. They walked around eggshells - never addressed the question: Should we be exclusive?

He grew petty - made it a point to show her how he’d behave if they weren’t going to be exclusive.

Y/N missed the message - just assumed that that’s what he wanted to do. Didn’t want to hold him back, but resented the time he spent apart from her. 

Then, the pregnancy happened. Y/n, ever afraid of putting him in an uncomfortable position, stopped talking to him, handled the problem herself, told him that things were just different now. 

He found out - she wasn’t sure how - and then the rest unfolded. 

Jungkook fell asleep to a messy slew of nightmares about the situation - dreamt up his face in a million dreamy profiles, all better looking than him. Imagined him smarter - imagined the ghost humiliating him in a court room. 

And then, he woke up, sleepless and alone on the couch. 

Y/N was already up, getting ready for work - the sound of the shower filtering through the entire house.

He followed the sound to her steamy bathroom and ditched his shorts to join her in there, ignoring her immediate protests because this wasn’t a ‘fun shower, Jungkook. It’s a serious getting ready for work shower.’

He didn’t care, told her as much as he cornered her against the shower wall and fingered her until she came twice and begged him to stop.

He felt bitter, jealous, petty the entire morning - not towards her, but towards the ghost floating around them. Wanted to show him that she was his now - he could touch her, annoy her, kiss her, fuck her if he so wanted.

He needed to fuck her. He needed to make a point.

There was no time for that in the morning because Y/N refused to be late for everyone’s post-firm-meltdown return to the office. 

Jungkook didn’t even have time to dig through her undesignated hook-up-leftover-clothing-drawer for matching socks and had to raw dog his dress shoes in the subway - she refused the car service and he refused to not go in without her. He refused to be away from her, he couldn’t be. 

He dreaded, deeply, their stop on the train which was so soon approaching because he wasn’t sure how he was meant to survive a whole day in an office locked away from her. 

He prayed hard for the off chance that Jimin and Namjoon would both call in sick. 

But they didn’t. And as Jungkook struggled with his shirt, which had gotten stuck on the office door because it was huge on him (he hated whatever fat fuck it belonged to), Y/N marched into a chorus of welcomes from them.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Jimin chimed, looking ten pounds thinner from the hilly European countryside he had toured.

“Welcome back, Boss!” Namjoon echoed, supporting a humble tan. 

Jungkook slowly trickled into their smiles and choruses when Y/N hit them with the most Y/N reply she could:

“Jungkook is my boyfriend.”

Jungkook could do nothing but glare at the ceiling as Y/N ignored the absolute horror in the two men’s faces and marched over to her office - practically skipped to it. 

Jungkook was left in her wake to deal with the shellshock that had just hit the duo in front of him.

“I have a really busy day…” he tried to excuse himself out of the room and march back over to his office, but Jimin was on his feet with a hand around his collar in an instant with Namjoon not too far behind. The men cornered him against Jimin’s welcome desk, ignoring the exhaustion written all over the wrinkles in his forehead. “Guys, seriously, can we catch up later…”

“Dude…” Namjoon started, shaking his head in utter silence as Jimin held him in place with the strength of a thousand Roman soldiers - eyes holding just as much intensity.

“Boyfriend?” Jimin laughed - cruel and high pitched. Damn near crazed. “You two cannot be serious.”

“Jimin, it was a spur of the moment thing,” Jungkook tried explaining, grabbing the man’s fingers and trying to pry them off of his neck without dropping his briefcase. “If you would just let me get settled in for the day, I’ll catch you two up on all of the gossip and all of the drama-”

While Namjoon was all smiles and nods at that proposal, even mumbling something about ordering something good for lunch, Jimin was committing some third degree crime in his head. It was etched deep into this expression.

Jungkook gulped at the sight - confused about the anger. 

“Of course it was a spur of the moment thing,” Jimin laughed, letting go of Jungkook’s collar and taking a step back. “You’re not really taking it seriously, right? She jokes around like this all the time.”

Jungkook’s face hardened a bit, letting a smidge of offense leak through in his expression so that Jimin would recoil, but the other man didn’t. Held steady. 

“It wasn’t really a joking matter,” he said, defending himself. “We’re - she’s - we’re going to try something new, so…”

Jimin kept glaring.

“Back off.”

With that, he retreated into his office, ignoring Namjoon’s puzzled expression as he shut his door.

Jungkook’s heart beat a little faster - what was going on? They had talked about this so many times, Jungkook assumed that they had come to an understanding. Why was Jimin getting pissy again?

He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep losing his mind like this. 

Jungkook had been navigating a mental minefield - between his incessant paranoia about an impending seizure, then his bouts of invincibility, followed up by the emotional turmoil of trying to navigate Y/N and everyone else in their lives - he felt like he was constantly drowning in an ocean.

Coming up for air, kissing Y/n when he could, and then drowning again - fighting always against the pull of isn’t it better to not try? 

Better to sink?

And now, he felt this impending doom build again, more suddenly. He tried shoving it down - this wasn’t like a panic attack, but it wasn’t not like a panic attack either - it was different. It was like…

A light switch. 

He was waiting for the fuse to blow, and the lights to go out, and for old Jungkook to come back and to kill him for good because didn’t he have a point?

Wasn’t this all just too exhausting?

Why was the first woman he truly wanted also the most emotionally undesirable woman to be had? 

Why couldn’t things be normal?

He was staring, frozen at his computer screen when Namjoon barged in and closed the door behind him, snapping him out of his momentary spiral.

“What do you want?”

“Boss…”

Namjoon looked a bit scared, a bit confused, a bit shy. 

He looked like he was being left out of some zombie survival plan - some doomsday prep ostracization. 

“What, Namjoon? It’s the first day back, what could it possibly be?”

“Something is wrong with Jimin. And I think I know what? I think you know what?”

“Stop ending every sentence with a question.”

“It is a question - I don’t really know what’s what, but I have a feeling you might really know what’s what. What’s going on? What do you mean you’re Y/N’s boyfriend?” 

Jungkook sighed, rubbed his face a bit before slamming his forehead down onto his keyboard. Namjoon jumped back a little. 

“Can we have one day when we’re not knee deep in each other’s business?” Jungkook begged into the keys. 

“This isn’t your business. This is Jimin’s business-”

Jungkook’s head snapped up. 

“How is me dating Y/N Jimin’s business!?!?”

“So you guys are dating!?”

“God, NAMJOON, I DON’T KNOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE-”

Namjoon was scrambling away like those cartoons they binged the entire weekend before Jungkook could finish yelling. His head felt like a million pounds. 

After getting an hour of silence in which he did fifteen minutes of tangible work, Jimin was the next to barge into his office - a bit more slyly than Namjoon, as if he was avoiding getting caught talking with him. 

“Hi, Jimin,” Jungkook greeted, a bit exasperated, and a bit inviting for the sake of figuring out what the fuck his deal was. 

Jimin didn’t speak at first, walked over to the guest chair and took a seat - kept his legs far apart again instead of his preferred style of crossing them over - emulating that same masculinity from that night that Jungkook was dying to forget. 

When he walked away… When everything turned upside down…

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Jungkook was tired of having conversations with people where they didn’t seem to speak the same language.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asked, even more exasperated than before.

“This whole boyfriend thing. Cut it out. It’s ridiculous, and you’re being inconsiderate with her.”

“Jimin, you’re crossing the line in a way that I can’t even begin to explain to you.” Jungkook’s voice was all business. “You have to stop talking about Y/N to me -”

Jimin laughed.

“What are you going to do? Fire me?”

Jungkook’s jaw clicked. 

“You won’t, right? You’ll never do anything that she doesn’t want you to do ever again.”

Jungkook faltered for a second, ears catching onto that accusation. What about it?

“Don’t you think that’s crossing a line? Aren’t you running a business here?”

Jungkook sighed, wanted to be honest.

“Jimin, honestly, I’m just trying to stay alive. Chasing the next thing, and if that happens to be Y/N, just let me -”

“I’ll kill you, do you know that?” 

Jungkook gulped. Not scared of the threat, but surely taken back by it (maybe a little scared, too). 

“Ok, settle down-”

“No, no, I mean it, Jungkook,” he said it with a laugh, so Jungkook felt compelled to take him seriously. “If you think she’s some passing panacea, I’ll kill you. This is serious, and there is nothing serious about you.”

“Jimin…”

“No, I’m going to get this out, and you’re going to listen, and you’ll do something about it if you’re man enough.”

Jungkook felt out of his mind. 

“You are a joke of a man. You are weak, you have no backbone, and you’re wishy washy, and you’ve only ever had it easy in this life. So easy in fact that the one time you faced any real adversity, you tried to die. You can’t do what you’re trying to do with Y/N if you’re going to die every time someone makes you fight for something instead of handing it right over to you because you’re so gorgeous and so smart.”

Jimin, fed by the rage that brewed in Jungkook, monologued on. 

“I don’t care if you fuck her, Jungkook. I don’t care if you’re her boss. I don’t control that. But being a part of her life - being a part of this crew - that’s in my purview. I get a say, and I don’t think you’re here for the long run. I think you’re here to fix yourself and run when things get hard.”

“That was once, Jimin,” Jungkook couldn’t let him keep going, not when he had started to make sense - when his anger started to get justified. This wasn't a competition between two men for some woman. This was Jungkook, desperately needing Jimin’s approval, and being tired of needing that approval. 

Why did he need Jimin’s approval? They weren’t in the same playing field. No, the only person he needed to compete was her ghost of an ex. 

“Once is too many. You ran, you fucked with her, and you made her cry. Now, you think you’re going to be her boyfriend? Just like that!? I don’t think so, dumbass. You’re going to run at the first sign of struggle from her. Do you really think she’s going to be able to keep this whole boyfriend thing up? What happens when she inevitably fucks someone else?”

Jungkook smirked, ears starting to tune him out because he felt entitled, appeased by the weekend he spent with Y/N. He suddenly felt prideful about the way she walked into the office, announcing him the way she did.

“She’s not going to fuck anyone else, Jimin. Worry about yourself, I can’t stress that enough. I’ll fire you the second that I think you’re getting in the way of this.”

Jimin laughed again, his cruelty turned to the max. 

“I don’t need to! You think dead ex was bad? Wait until the abusive mom’s birthday. That should be fun for you.”

Jungkook spends the rest of the day chewing on his nails. And once Jimin and Namjoon trickle out of the office, Jimin with a strong glare in Jungkook’s direction that Jungkook tries very hard to ignore, he finds his way to Y/N’s office, where she’s going at some filing with a newfound fervor.

He smiles a bit through the tension - his girl was back.

“Hey, you want tea?” 

“Yeah, peppermint.”

He brings her a mug and sits down in her guest chair, watching her through the glow of her screen as she types away rather ferociously - hair still well styled, clothes all in the right place.

She wore a little black dress today, coupled it with a cropped black blazer, black stockings, and red bottomed heels. 

She looked disgustingly good. 

“Jimin didn’t like your little announcement today.”

“... Amidst the current national epidemic of such cases, it is the province of this court to…”

“Y/N, it’s kind of important.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“When is your mom’s birthday?”

She stopped typing, fingers frozen mid air over the keyboard as she slowly, painfully turned her head to face him, eyes wide but angry. 

“What?”

“Remember back at the hospital?”

“Yeah?”

“Jimin told me about, I don’t know, everything? Kind of? And then, today…”

Y/N looked distressed. It was a rather rare emotion to see on her face outside of the bedroom, but she looked like she hit a dead end - some unresolveable inner turmoil.

“I need you to be nice to him…”

Jungkook’s face recoiled, stared back at her in absolute delirium.

“Me? Nice? Are you joking? I’m paying the guy’s paychecks while he berates my entire existence - how much nicer can I be?”

“Not what I mean,” she mumbled, bringing up her thumb to pick at a microscopically small loose piece of cuticle. “He’s not used to me making other friends. I need him to like you.”

Jungkook wanted to die.

“Okay, so in order for me to be your boyfriend..”

“Uhhuh…”

“I have to get the blessing of your gay secretary?”

“Blessing is a strong word. I need you to not piss him off.” 

Jungkook sighed, melted into the chair and forgot who or what he was for a second. He tried to dissolve into the universe - maybe there was some peace to be had there, over there, in the abstract, rather than here in the physical world. 

“Jungkook, I’m serious. He wasn’t happy today.” 

Jungkook sat up straight, eyes narrowed: “I came here specifically to tell you that! You think that I don’t know that he wasn’t happy?? Y/N, he like cornered me today. Not the first time, mind you, but I did nothing wrong this time!”

Y/N whimpered in response and somehow found the humility to sit on his lap in the armchair and proceeded to give him the blowjob of his life before sending him back to his apartment so that she could finish her brief. 

He couldn’t sleep. He realized, by the conclusion of the last fourteen months, that he couldn’t really sleep very well without Y/N. He especially couldn’t sleep when Jimin’s words were haunting him. 

He didn’t know what to think - he hated Jimin for it, but he felt like the warnings were all valid. Jungkook had no idea how permanent he intended to be in Y/N’s life. 

Everything aside, he was never really huge on commitment. Y/N just had been so against it that maybe it sparked something contrarian in him - motivated him to want just that - he obsessed, fixated. But now that he was met with so little resistance from her, and now that Jimin had dumped this ultimatum on him - forever or never - he was starting to feel the pressure.

He wanted to run away from her, and run to her all at the same time. 

Things felt so confusing in her wake. 

So, he ubered over to her apartment at 2 am. 

He had memorized the code to her apartment already and felt unjustifiedly authorized to walk in as he pleased. So, he did. He took the uber in his black pajama set - clothed enough for his desires to present pure. 

But, really, he wanted to prove a point. 

When he got into her apartment, all of the lights were off, but he easily navigated his way through the dark, found his way into her bedroom, only to find it empty. 

He didn’t question it - felt like he didn’t have the time to. Traversed over to the movie room in the far side of the apartment, where the only light in the apartment shone through in light flickers of bright colors.

He followed the vision to find her laying on the couch, passed out in a mess of random pillows and blankets with a Studio Ghibli movie playing on the screen, muted. 

He approached quietly, but tried to create some rustle and tussle in his step to stir her awake in an attempt to not startle her. 

It seemed to work well enough, half because she was partly awake when he had walked in, and seemed to recognize the sound of his steps.

“What’re you…” she mumbled, tight fists stretching out as her arms tangled in the sheets, but before she could fully wake up, he climbed into the mess of bedding and pulled her tight against his chest, lips finding hers before rolling over to lay on top of her, digging her body into the couch with his weight. 

“I need you, Y/N…” he whispered into her mouth, hands roaming over her body to register exactly what she was wearing - a lacy cotton camisole and tight little shorts. Too much skin. So warm. 

She moaned into his mouth, not even attempting to keep up with his kisses until he got the hint and started to kiss down her jaw, her neck, across her cheeks - anywhere that didn’t require any effort from her. 

“I need you, really bad,” he continued, lips right against her ear as he let the beggardly words fall from his lips, and she squirmed a little at his hot breath. 

“Whatever you want,” she murmured, eyes still closed, as she let her cheek hit the pillow, trying to doze back to sleep.

He smiled a little, cupped her jaw and kissed both her eyes until she unwillingly peeled them open, hands lazily swatting at him. 

“You’re really getting to be too much,” she chastised, half awake and slightly alert, sitting up as he got cozy next to her, pulling a pillow to rest behind his head before dragging her over to sit on his lap. 

“I know, I’m sick, Y/N,” he joked, cracking a little smile as he guided her hips over his rock hard member, whimpering a little as he felt her early arousal against the thin fabric of his pants. “I’m so sick for you, what are we going to do?”

She stared down at him, eyes half open and hand coming down to squeeze gently at his throat. 

“I don’t know, Jungkook,” she moaned back, starting to circle her hips on her own accord, the pleasure going straight to her sleepy little head. “I’d quite like it if you fucked me. That might cure whatever is wrong with you.”

He laughed a little, pulled her down into a bear hug, holding her still despite the immediate complaints.

“Not yet,” he whispered into her hair once she stopped fighting it. “I don’t deserve it yet.”

Y/N didn’t say much, just curled up into him and went to sleep without question.

She wasn’t on the couch when he woke up, again. He didn’t join her in the shower. Opted to make breakfast for her instead. 

Left the plain little yogurt bowl with berries and granola out of her cupboard before taking an uber back to his apartment, getting dressed, and heading into the office. 

He went straight to Jimin, asked to see him in his office.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” 

Jimin didn’t say anything.

“I found her asleep in her movie room last night.”

“She usually sleeps in her movie room. Doesn’t like her room. You didn’t know that?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s today. I feel it. Just tell me that much.”

Jimin inspected his nails, uninterested.

“You’ll know when it is, trust me.” He mumbled, seeming nonchalant, but Jungkook could see the little pleasure behind his eyes from the torture he was enacting on Jungkook. 

“Why are you rooting against this? I thought you liked us.”

“I liked you guys when you were fun.” Jimin’s nonchalant facade dropped in an instant as he leaned closer to whisper his tirade, away from the earshot of anyone else in the office. 

Namjoon was trying very hard to remain as switzerland-y as he could in the situation, not wanting to challenge Jimin’s authority of the group but not exactly being able to hide his excitement for the potential couple either.

“We’re not fun anymore?”

“Boyfriend isn’t fun, Jungkook. It’s a nuclear bomb for her. I’m not going to relive the whole Eunwoo era.”

“I’m not going to off myself if she gets pregnant!”

“You’re going to off yourself when she leaves you, and then you’re going to ruin her life because of that.”

Jungkook shut the fuck up because there it was - everyone’s worries verbalized. Each of them carried a nugget of this anxiety - emotionally volatile Jungkook and emotionally dense but fragile Y/N - awful duo. Nightmare situation.

Either could set the other off at any second, and each had their own respective traumas to recover from. Jungkook couldn’t seem to rely on someone without making them his entire world. Y/N couldn’t seem to stick to a single thing to save her life. They were going to kill each other.

At best, she was going to kill him. Jungkook worried for that, too, especially when she stared off to join Eunwoo in some far off memory where Jungkook couldn’t go. 

Could he take that frustration forever? Was Eunwoo going to hang over their heads forever?

If not Eunwoo, then his suicide attempt? 

“I won’t allow it, Jungkook. She’ll date someone, at some point. Marry someone even. But I’m going to make sure that it isn’t you.”

“Who would you prefer? Changwook?”

“Yeah, I would actually. He saved her life. All you’ve done is complicate it.”

“Oh, come off it, Jimin,” Jungkook finally snapped, letting his ego flair a little. “She’s never been this happy. With anyone. Admit it.”

Jimin’s lips pursed, he grew quiet. 

“Not with Eunwoo, not with Changwook, and not with you.”

Jimin opened his mouth to retort, but Jungkook cut him off immediately.

“She’s at home with me. She likes being with me, she doesn’t just tolerate it. I like her, too, just let us worry about the rest. Stop meddling, Jimin.”

“You don’t know what happy Y/N looks like.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to listen.

“This isn’t happy Y/N. This is I’m-trying-to-make-Jungkook-happy Y/N. You’re confusing her.”

Jungkook laughed, shook his head - God, he was wrong. He was so wrong. He kept wavering back and forth on that - whether Jimin was more fluent in Y/N than he was, but no he wasn’t. He didn’t understand her. Not like Jungkook did.

He had to believe that, at least in this moment. He needed to feel like it wasn’t all slipping away from him. 

“You know what I realized, Jimin?”

“What?” He paused, took in the other man’s expression. What about Jimin? Would Jimin hang over their heads forever?

Could Jungkook find a way to make Jimin go away?

“I don’t need you to get through to Y/N. I get through to her on my own just fine.”

Jimin’s turn to laugh. 

“Oh, you-”

“No, I mean it. You want proof?” 

Jimin listened.

“Did you know she was drunk when she lost her virginity?”

Immediate flicker across his eyes - worry, fear, panic, grief. Instant but detectable, especially to Jungkook’s hawklike glare of a gaze. He was shooting straight lasers at Jimin.

“You didn’t.” He declared, a sick smile slipping onto his lips. “Now, go back to your desk.”

Jimin did, tail between his legs, a bit stunned at the revelation. It had made him think - Jungkook watched it happen through the frosted glass. The slight tilt to Jimin’s head - his insistent gaze on the ground - he was busy digesting the fact that someone might have gotten a little closer to Y/N than he had. 

Jungkook felt pleased enough for the moment, felt the battle was won, but he had a bigger vision for the goal. When Namjoon and Jimin left that night, he went back to Y/N’s office, peeled her hands away from her keyboard and held them in his until she looked up at him. 

“Let’s make out on my desk.”

—-

It’s not exactly hard to figure out Y/N’s mom’s birthday. A couple of google searches, a little deep diving, and one magazine interview later, he had the info he needed.

Late March, the start of spring. 

Jungkook thinks long and hard about his plan. Keeps it to himself as he spends the rest of the week half living out of his apartment and half crashing with Y/N. 

He was there most nights, after she was asleep - she didn’t even wake up as he crawled in with her on the couch. She had gotten used to it. 

Sometimes he just showed up for breakfast, got dressed with her, rode the subway into the office with her. She barely minded it. Treated him like a puppy she’d sometimes pet sit. Just the vaguest, most detached amount of affection coupled with an abject disinterest in his presence.

At times, it felt sweet to melt so easily into her surroundings. Other times, it felt frustrating. 

Like now, when she started zoning out couch mid-movie - some indie cult classic that was too long for its own good - and he could just tell that she was thinking about Eunwoo, or Jimin, or a case - anything but him.

It irritated him to no end.

And the irritation made him do crazy things. 

On the couch, he snapped - without any notice or permission, he just jumped her bones, kissed her silly and crawled between her legs amidst her confusion, tearing off all the clothing he could before he ate her out like a starved animal.

“God, Jungkook, I’m going to -”

Got her to squirt again, didn’t let up, got her to cry into the pillow and kick at him before he decided it enough to pull off of her.

Even then, his mouth kissed her - hot and angry - and fingers found their way into her entrance, fucking in and out of them at a relentless pace. 

He panted into her mouth, hot - “Mine. Say it. Say that you’re mine.”

“Y-yours, all yours, whatever you want,” she barely enunciated a single syllable, lips pursed into a small little sob and eyes too teary to see him clearly. “P-Please, stop.” “Say my name,” He begged, voice growing needy as he bucked himself against her hip, losing himself into the friction.

“Jungkook,” she whimpered, squirting one more time before he finally let up, crashed next to her. 

Then, Wednesday morning, in the kitchen, he snapped when she mentioned an old fling. Jungkook didn’t even catch the first syllable of his name, only really registered some vague detail about how good he was at cooking, and somehow, someway he managed to get Y/N on her knees with his cock stuffed far deep into her throat in the middle of her kitchen.

“Oh, you can take it,” he insisted as she choked around him, nails digging into his thighs as she glared up at him. “That mouth is all mine.” 

He let her pull away for a greedy inhale of air before forcing her lips to take him back in, thrusting in and out like she truly belonged to him. 

Then, on Friday, when he was in her office, talking to her about a new case that had just come in, her phone rang - Jimin’s voice was clearly on the other end.

Jungkook could make out what needed to: “... What should we do this year to celebrate the wrench?”

Y/N held a finger up to him, putting Jungkook, the live person in front of her, on hold to talk to Jimin, the telephonic uninvited guest. 

“The usual. Let’s dance, drink, have fun..”

She made some other offerings, but all Jungkook could concern himself with was that word - fun. He knew what fun with Jimin meant. And he now absolutely knew what day it was. 

The dreaded birthday.

Without thinking he reached over, pressed the hook switch to hang up on Jimin and stared at Y/N with the least crazed expression he could put on. 

“Uhh…”

“Let’s do something tonight!” 

“Tonight?” 

“Yeah, tonight.”

She stared at him, mouth agape and eyes narrowed - confusion and suspicion on display.

“Why tonight?”

“Why not tonight?” “Well,” she started, tapping her papers down to even them out, “we’ve spent every night together, for one.”

“Right, what’s one more?” 

He put a dumb, naive smile on his face, trying hard to dissuade her suspicion. And confusion. 

“Sorry, this is kind of a special night for Jimin and I-”

“I’ll fuck you!”

She flinched, eyes glancing down the hall to see if anyone heard that - a bit of tussle from the other end of the hall confirmed that Namjoon definitely did, which meant that Jimin did, too.

“Jesus, Jungkook-”

“For real, like actually fuck you. Let’s fuck - I want to fuck tonight. It’s a really special night for me, and I want to do it tonight.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it, sighed and ran a hand over her face.

“Jungkook…”

“Y/N, don’t.” He was begging. He had gotten so used to begging. “Please, just - don’t have fun with Jimin. I know it’s your mom’s birthday or whatever, and that must be really weird, but just, please, let’s just spend it together this year, try something new-”

She was glaring. He shut up.

“I don’t know what Jimin told you exactly,” she started, getting off her chair and grabbing her bag from the floor. “But this arrangement was supposed to be simple: I get to use you, and in exchange, I tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend. That’s it. I didn’t know spending every day together was a requirement.”

Jungkook reached over, tried to take the bag from her. 

“Y/N, baby, come on-”

“Don’t call me that,” she ripped her arm and the bag away from him - twisted her body away as if he had burned her. “Stop acting like this.”

Jungkook recoiled, ignored the sting in his heart, because he couldn’t afford to piss her off into Jimin’s handsome arms right now. Not when Jimin was on a mission to tear them apart.

“Okay, okay, fine, but seriously, let’s just-” He blanked, lips pursed, head shaking back and forth in the absence of words before he let out a frustrated sigh. “Can I come over while you get ready?” 

—

This is, of course, a terrible idea. 

“What are you wearing?”

“A dress.”

“Right. Uh, do you think you can change?”

“Why would I do that? It looks great.”

“Y/N, come on, take that off. You’re being ridiculous-”

“Why? I don’t want to.”

“Y/N.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

His presence alone irritates her, so his verbal anxieties were not really helping the equation, but he couldn’t cage it - he was on edge, losing it. 

She was wearing a tight, short black dress with sheer stockings and black stilettos. Her hair was blown out, her lips were tinted kiss-red, and she had these slutty gold hoops on, and he was just so close to losing it.

He wanted her on the couch, on her bed, on the floor, against the wall, in the shower, in the kitchen - he wanted to be in her, permanently, and he wanted her away from Jimin, permanently.

“I’m sorry, just - can I come with you at least?”

He was standing behind her by her vanity as she blotted out her lips, wiping off some of the excess color, hands on her shoulder. 

“No,” she answered, pulling away from the mirror to stare at her masterpiece. “I don’t want you to.”

“Why?” 

Her irritation hit her eyes in a new way - he saw it. He saw the flip, and he felt like that kid with the wine dripping over his head again. He hated when she made him feel like that. 

He wished, craved, in these moments, to just fuck the sense out of her and make himself feel good again even if just for a moment.

But he couldn’t, and she was about ready to rip his head off. She went for the jugular instead.

“Because I want to fuck around with someone new. I’m bored, and why would I want you to be there if I’m trying to sleep with someone else?”

His hands on her shoulders tightened, made her hiss and arch her back in response but he held her steady, eyes shining pure black as he glared at her through the mirror.

“Y/N.”

“Jungkook, leave, I want you to leave.” She seethed back, trying to get up from her seat, but he just pushed her back down, made her yelp in frustration. “God, let go. I’m going to keep being mean until you leave-”

“Do you mean what you said or do you want to apologize?” 

He leaned in closer to her ear, face next to hers as he stared into her reflection, watched as the tiniest bit of fear slid into her gaze but the hate and the anger shone brighter, took over her logic. 

“Of course I meant what I said. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Y/N!”

His jaw was locked, his voice was a missile, and she was just as fired up. She pursed her lips in determination and pushed off the vanity, managed to stand up and push Jungkook a good five feet away. 

“You can’t yell at me.” She stated, arms crossed and not a note or syllable out of place - every vowel was delivered with exact clarity. He just wasn’t allowed to talk to her in that way.

He didn’t care.

“I’ll ask again, Y/N. Are you really going to fuck someone else tonight, or are you just trying to piss me off?” 

She’s silent for only a millisecond before her eyes narrow and her lips twist down into a frown. 

“Fuck you.”

That’s all he can take of that. He caves into those cravings - the ones that scream at him to throw her against a wall and show her who’s boss - and grabs her by the arm, pulls her into his chest before kissing her up against the nearest wall, lips angry and teeth biting on anything that they can find.

She kisses back, a bit derailed and not in any fashion remotely sane. She moans when he lifts her legs to wrap them around his waist, moans louder when he grinds into her, but she sounds sick - nauseous. 

Nothing sounds like pleasure, it all sounds like gluttony and greed and excess, and she just sounds tired, bored of him. Satiated and overstimulated.

She manages to pull away from him - hands holding him back with all her strength as he stares desperately at her lips, finding his only solace in them. 

“S-Stop,” she begs, pressing harder until he lets her legs go, but his lips try to dive back into her neck. She keeps pushing him off until she lets out a grunt frustrated enough to make him stop.

He holds onto her but pulls away far enough to stop kissing her. To listen as she complains. 

“You said I could do whatever I want.” She doesn’t even sound mad. She just sounds tired, confused.

“I also said I didn’t want you to fuck anyone else:” he was curt, impatient. They didn’t need to have this discussion right now. Everything was fine. They were fine. She didn’t need to raise this problem now when he was freaking out about what she was leaving to do with Jimin in that awful, gorgeous dress.

“But that’s paradoxical. Then, I can’t do whatever I want - I don’t get this arrangement. I don’t get what we’re doing, and I really don’t get why you’re mad today.”

His jaw tightened, he felt his temperature go up. He could tell that his face was turning red. 

“Are you serious? Y/N, you cannot be this dense-”

Just then, right before Jungkook could really get into his tirade, the doorbell rang, and that was excuse enough for Y/N to ditch the convo and open the door for Jimin, but not before shooting a glare his way that very clearly read “i’m-done-with-this.”

“Looking delicious, sweetie,” Jimin greeted, ignoring Jungkook as he lurked by the doorway like an unemployed boyfriend ruining everyone’s fun at the froyo shop. 

Y/N fell into his arms, one leg lifted as he spun her into a deeper hug, sweeping her off of her feet. She watched Jungkook with a vengeful glint as Jimin put her down, and Jimin’s gaze matched her violence as they met Jungkook’s eyes.

“Hi, Jungkook,” he said, voice notably less cheery than before.

“You’re really going to do this?” He asked, ignoring Jimin entirely.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” 

They left with that, left Jungkook in Y/N’s apartment like an afterthought. 

He felt, in a moment, that he had lost it all. 

He tossed and turned the feeling over. Laid on Y/N’s couch and watched every mindless thing he could. Wasted ten minutes doing that before getting into her shower, crying hopelessly at the thought of her being back in there with him. Crying even harder when the water turned cold and he realized that she was too angry to do anything like that for a while now.

Maybe ever.

But, by the time he got out of the shower, he realized something.

The feeling wasn’t new - he’d felt this before. Loss. Momentary collapse.

But his reaction was new. 

He cried, he lamented, he bugged the fuck out. Sure.

But, here’s the kicker, he didn’t want to die. Didn’t once consider it an option to self exit.

No, he desperately wanted to live. 

He desperately wanted to get even. Be seen.

So, he dresses up to the nines. Not in some silly mimic of whatever slutty thing Jimin wore to the office that week - no. He wasn’t dressing for Y/N. He was dressing for everybody else.

So, he put on his best pair of blue jeans, and best fitting black top, some rings and topped it all off with a call to his favorite paralegal.

“Now, I know that you know where Jimin and Y/N are going tonight,” he said into the speaker as he buckled his belt. “If you tell me where they are, you might see a really fun discretionary bonus with your next paycheck.”

“Wow, boss, quid pro quo sexual harassment? You’re really upping the ante.”

“My intentions are pure.”

“No, they’re not,” Namjoon’s laugh was heavy on the other end. Jungkook vaguely heard his girlfriend mutter a question in the back. “They’re going to a new listening bar at the east end of town.”

“The Japanese one?”

“That’s the one. Godspeed. Excited for the bonus.”

“I’ll double it if you come out with us.”

“Us?”

Namjoon meets him there, and so do Taehyung and Yoongi. Namjoon is disgusted but he was forewarned about their attendance. Doesn’t lessen the blow of seeing their faces.

“I’m only here for free drinks.” Namjoon reminds himself as Taehyung and Yoongi spot them on the sidewalk, waiting in the queue to get into this intimate, three floor listening bar.

“Joonie! Mr. Jeon!”

Taehyung immediately throws his arms around the two men’s necks, hanging off of them with an undeserved familiarity. Namjoon is quick to push him back, immediately despising the contact. 

“I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“Nice to see you, too, Taehyung.” Jungkook chirps, positivity and joy leaking off of his voice.

Namjoon and Jungkook share an unrequited exchange - Namjoon’s eyes read “it’s-not-too-late-to-uninvite-them.” Jungkook’s read “we’re-in-it-now.”

“How have you guys been?” Jungkook asks, managing to tear his eyes away from Namjoon’s pleading ones.

“Oh, god, awful, Minji is a monster, and I really did always hate working at that firm. Hated that we had to go back.” Yoongi is quick to dish, and Namjoon is honestly a bit surprised.

“Yeah, we never realized just how terrible Minji was until we started working with you guys,” Taehyung furthered, pouting his lips at his Joonie, who was about to throw up from the sudden show of affection. “We really missed all of you.”

“Realized how awful we had been to you guys. Sorry for all of the homophobic comments, Joonie. We’re learning.”

“Stop calling me Joonie.”

Namjoon wanted to die. Jungkook had never felt so alive before. The bar was absolutely insane. It didn’t take long for them to get in once Jungkook slipped away to slip a solid band to the bouncer, who unconstructively informed him that a hundred would have sufficed. He still let them cut th eline.

The set up was very metropolitan. The first floor was lit up green and housed only soulful jazz records, which you could request only after naming the song that went before you. Interesting concept, but Jungkook enjoyed it. Felt welcoming and enticing. He wasn’t exactly a jazz guy, but he never realized that such hot women were into jazz.

Jungkook felt right at home, felt the eyes on him - thank god, there were straights here. Jimin didn’t own the place. He still would have undue influence, but still, Jungkook could hold his head above water.

Have some fun.

“Everyone man for himself,” Jungkook ordered, and was met with enthusiastic nods from Yoongi and Taehyung (and a healthy chug of some random blue drink by Namjoo, which seemed to be his equivalent of an enthusiastic nod). 

The quartet hogged the bar for a good thirty minutes, hopping themselves up on rum - that was the liquor of choice on this floor. 

“Second floor is vodka. Third floor is tequila,” Yoongi said over the rocky jazz music that had picked up enough of a mood to make people dance.

The quartet looked unsure of how to dance to this. 

Jungkook ventured off, so did everyone else (Namjoon stayed at the bar, ordered two servings of chicken katsu sliders (each order came with six) because Jungkook said he could put food on the tab). He chatted up some of the pretty jazz ladies, who all had glazed eyes from some blatant use of a recreational herb. 

He stayed with them long enough to learn how to dance to jazz.

He wanted to pretend that this is what he was here for - to have fun, drink, and dance with pretty ladies. But really, he was just killing time until he finally spotted Y/N. Or she spotted him. It was definitely the latter. She was already staring by the time he found her. 

She was in the opposite end of the room, back by the bar, leaning against Jimin’s chest as he ordered drinks for them. Her eyes were lazy, but her expression was pleased - a bit intrigued.

She stared at him as if she knew that he’d take offense in her lack of reaction. He didn’t. He reciprocated. Winked over at her before leaning down to kiss his dance partner, pleased to find her halfway there to meet his lips. 

“Who are we making jealous?” She asked, and he laughed, kissed her some more. He enjoyed it - hadn’t tasted something new in a long time. He pulled away after a while, pecked her goodbye before sauntering back over to the bar, far enough away from Y/N to not be accused of going up to her. He just wanted a refill.

Just as he managed to get the bartender’s attention, he felt a familiar grip on his bicep, and despite the little skip in his heart, he took his time before turning to give it any attention. 

He obviously wasn’t surprised to find Y/N staring back at him.

Her eyes were still lazy, lips pulled back like “fine-let’s-play-that-game.”

“How did you find us?” She asked, nails digging in. 

He sipped the drink that the bartender handed over to him, smiling back at her before looking her once over, almost judging her audacity to come up to him after their exchange back at the apartment.

“I’m just out having fun, Y/N. Don’t worry about me. There are three floors. Go enjoy yourself.”

She smirked, impressed, nodded.

“Interesting. Are you just going to kiss everyone you see or are you planning on taking someone home?”

He didn’t dare give himself the hope of reading even an ounce of jealousy into her question.

“We’ll find out.”

“Why are you hanging out with Taehyung and Yoongi?” 

Well, he couldn’t deny the worry that drenched off of that. Couldn’t leave that unaddressed given his prior reputation with handling Y/N related conflicts. 

But still, he laughed at her. Played it all

“Why do you care?” He said before throwing the rest of his drink back, signaling over to the  bartender for another one.

She let her mask drop for a second, letting her frustration show. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, and she bit down onto her lip.

“Get me one.”

He smirked, swirled around the ice cube in his mouth.

“No.” 

She scoffed, let a smile out - a little bewildered.

“Who are you?” 

She meant to sound humorous, but she couldn’t hold her act together. It was obvious that he had thrown her off. 

He leaned a little bit closer to her, ignored the shove of the bodies around them trying to get to the bar. 

“Jeon Jungkook.” he said, mockery sprinkled into each syllable. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re so annoying,” her face filtered between a smile and a frown. “Still don’t get why those two idiots are here.”

“Brought Taehyung here to help you fuck someone else.” He said, smile dropping a bit as he meant the words to land like an insult. “In case you had trouble finding someone. I mean, Jimin’s obviously the wrong tree to climb, and I figured you just needed to get it out of your system. Maybe you’d start acting normal again if you just fucked someone else.”

She looked like she was struggling to process his words - their oscillation between sarcasm and hurt and accusation and nonchalant humor. She couldn’t make sense of so much human nuance at once.

“You’re okay with me fucking someone else?” She asked, mask fully dropping - eyes fully and naively intrigued.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, tried to cage in the anger that her oblivious reaction was triggering. How could she not tell that this was pissing him off?

He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. 

“Sure, as long as you’re okay with me fucking someone else. That’s the arrangement, right? Is that what we agreed on?”

“Well, we didn’t agree on anything.” 

He didn’t care. Mumbled some excuse after that, grabbed his second drink and signalled the boys to move up to the second floor.

The second floor was orange, adorned in wealthy 70s decor. It was ABBA and a bunch of other disco-pop hits. You requested songs via drink orders, and the bartender made a mean cosmopolitan. Jungkook didn’t even know someone could make a mean cosmopolitan.

It was Namjoon’s idea to get them in the first place.

So, they got a ton. They knocked back cosmopolitan after cosmopolitan - the bartender took a liking to them and made each one paler and paler until all they were consuming were straight ten ounces of vodka per glass  - and Jungkook was in love.

“God, Taehyung, I had no idea you felt so deeply about this.” He lamented, eyes tearing up endlessly at the other man’s confession.

“I do, I really do. I hated how things ended, but I thought it was so manly how you stormed into Y/N’s apartment in those little orange shorts.”

Namjoon kept knocking back the vodka despite knowing that no amount of drunk was going to make this exchange less painful and less annoying for him. 

Free drinks, he reminded himself half out loud. Free, expensive liquor. 

“We were always kind of rooting for you guys, Mr. Jeon,” Yoongi said, “Any chance you guys got together?” 

“In a way…”

“She announced him as her boyfriend the other day. It’s been hell since.” Joonie confessed, digging out a maraschino cherry from a rogue shirley temple he had ordered. 

Jungkook shot him a look. .

“What?! Am I lying?! It’s been absolute hell. Look at us now! Why am I even here?? For free drinks!? I have a girlfriend - a whole other life at home what am I doing here-”

“Joonie, go be with your woman. You’re going to die if you drink any more than you already have.”

Yoongi’s advice was heartfelt, and Joonie was truly grateful. Joonie wanted to go home to his girlfriend, desperately. Wanted to be away from Jungkook and Y/N for just one night, and then maybe three more weeks after that. 

He needed another vacation. 

“Guys, guys, why are we going home?” Jungkook hiccuped, eyes scanning the room for his next victim. The record scratched and Namjoon banged his head against the bar. Why did he come out tonight?

That’s how they end up back in the crowd, stranding Namjoon at the bar, where he orders three different crudo plates - all too inadequate for his drunk, hungry stomach. 

Y/N finds Taehyung in the mix of things and Jungkook does his best to pay it no mind as ABBA blasts through the speakers and as he finds himself another beauty to parade around, to shower him in attention.

“You’re a lawyer?” This one asks. She mentioned her name, he just can’t remember. 

He nods, smug. 

“You must be good at arguing.”

He laughs, shakes his head. 

“You’d be surprised.”

Somewhere behind him, Y/N dances with Taehyung, but Jungkook can distinctly feel her eyes at his back. He’s caught her gaze a couple of times now as he moved around, but it was starting to get a little too intentional to ignore.

It’s like she wanted him to notice. 

Taehyung couldn’t get her to pay an ounce of attention to him. 

When Jungkook started making out with the mystery girl, Jimin took Taehyung’s spot - easily pushing the man away - distracting Y/N with some unnecessarily intimate little dance. 

Then, he pulled her into a kiss, and she let him - with some hesitation, which was rare, but still - she let him. 

Jungkook couldn’t stand it. 

Muttered some poor excuse to the girl about being too drunk and climbed up to the rooftop - the last floor. 

The night sky shone bright over a bright neon red dance floor. 

He wanted to throw up.

He felt pretty in the night sky, with the spring wind, but he desperately wanted something, anything or he was bound to throw up - another body, another drink, maybe a cigarette?

He spotted a lanky man by the railings smoking one, sauntered over and asked for one with as much pride kept intact as possible. The man showed humility and offered to light one for him no problem. 

Jungkook gladly accepted, and felt even more grateful when he chose to walk away rather than question him about his troubles.

The music was loud up here - mostly 2000s club hits. Loud, obnoxious, and way too layered.

He inhaled the Marlboro Red like it was the most exquisite cigar in the whole world. It woke him up, shook him deep, and reminded him that he didn’t have to be there. Reminded him that he could choose where his limbs went. 

He could stop taking them in the direction of Y/N. Could stop avoiding this inevitable torture.

It wasn’t working. Whatever this was between them, he had been failing at it. 

He felt sad, sick, happy, confused.

He was midway through the cigarette, and midway through his internal funeral for his nonexistent relationship, when he noticed the ordered, metronome steps clicking his way. 

Jungkook turned his head towards his right shoulder just the slightest bit to make out Y/N’s profile.

“Can I help you?” Jungkook asked, bitter but still composed. He lifted the cigarette to his lips. “I’m tired of arguing.” 

“What’s the matter with you?” Y/N asked, straight to the point.

Jungkook huffed, but before he could dismiss her, she pushed on.

“You followed me here, and then made out with like five girls in front of me after I told you how everything went down with Eunwoo. What is your problem?” 

Oh. Well. He hadn’t really thought about it that way - half forgot about the whole Eunwoo going crazy manwhore on her. But this was different. The thing was - 

“No, tell me, what did I do wrong?” She demanded, coming a little closer to Jungkook when she saw the slightest bit of hesitation. 

When he refused to look at her, she tugged at his arm, making him turn around to face her just as he was blowing out his smoke. 

She groaned at the carcinogenic cloud, angry and shrieky, and reached over to grab the cigarette and toss it to the ground. 

“Oh, come on-”

“No! You pushed me, and irritated me, and now you’re acting weird, and you’re acting like Eunwoo-”

“I’m not Eunwoo!” 

His voice was several decibels louder than he would have liked. It made him wince, both at the volume, and at her reaction. 

She was immediately withdrawing, hardening, finding a way to remove herself emotionally from the situation.

Rather permanently it seemed.

“Y/N…” He tried, reaching over to grab her arm as she slowly started to walk away from him. She didn’t shrug him off, but she’d mentally clocked out of the conversation. She was done with him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine, let go.” She said, hands coming down to try and pull his away - rather pointless on her end. It was no death grip, she could have just brushed him off. 

“Y/N, come on, you spent like thirty minutes at the apartment telling me that you wanted to fuck someone else. You showed up dressed like an absolute slut-”

He cut himself off, bit down onto his tongue - god, what was wrong with him??

She smirked, but something deadly sad lingered behind it as her smile twisted into a little laugh, manicured fingers coming up to cover her mouth as if she could silence the melodies slipping out of her mouth. 

Siren’s song. Call to battle. He was suddenly extremely aware of how drunk she was. 

“That’s what he called me,” she spoke, words barely making it out as she swallowed back her laughs. She straightened up a bit, but he wished she hadn’t. The second his eyes landed on hers, his heart broke at the sheen of tears.

“What?” he asked, brain barely registering itself.

“The night he died. We fought, and he called me a slut. Just like you did!”

She laughed, he stared, watched the tears fall on her perfect face as she teetered between a pretty pout and a wide smile. He watched as her lips reddened, her cupid's bow blushed and she looked oh so perfectly sad. 

“So, that’s what I am! Who cares! What’s the point?” She was laughing, genuinely. From the heart. He could hear it. 

He tried to hold her still, but she kept wrestling out of his hold, almost escaping, making him want so desperately to just cuff her down to a bed to make her listen. 

“God, really, why do we try? Just fuck me, then, Jungkook. I’m such a slut, so fuck me! Let’s get it over with and never speak to each other again, please. I want to stop doing this. I want to stop whatever it is that you’re doing!”

She was hitting his chest, weak but determined, lips pursed and eyes still teary as he tried to hold her, tried to deny it all away with a kiss but she twisted her head around, shoved at him again. 

He let go, felt like he had to because they were starting to make a scene. The bar wasn’t as crowded up here, and the music was loud but the people weren’t, and he wanted her away, tucked into a little corner, separate and private, before he started begging for forgiveness, for an explanation - anything to take back this day and bring back the nice ones from before when they were just starting to enjoy each other’s company. Find their rhythm.

She walked away after that, found Jimin and pulled him onto the dance floor, didn’t hesitate to pull him into a kiss, and Jimin did nothing to fight it off, kissed her back like he was meant to. 

Like it was normal. 

With his hands too low on her waist, and her hands in his rockstar hair, Jungkook laughed, shook his head, tried to compose himself well enough to find another body. 

Anybody. 

He found one. A pretty one, a little shorter than him, a little curvier than Y/N. Softer, more feminine, more wanton. 

He danced with her like no one was watching, enjoyed himself as they kissed in the middle of the dance floor, his mind melted away from Y/N enough to almost forget the fact that she was getting tongued down just 10 feet away from him. 

And he was too enthralled in this new body, in this fun distraction to notice that Y/N had stopped, had taken a good step away from Jimin, who had finally had enough of being pushed and pulled all night.

Out of earshot of Jungkook, Jimin screeched at her. 

“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, it’s our night, can’t you just pay attention to me for one second!?” He demanded, holding her face still to tear her gaze away from Jungkook. “Why are you staring at him like that?” 

“Like what?” she asked, feigning innocence and nonchalance the best she could, but the anger was so heavy in her. It reeked on her. She knew it - she was acting crazy. Not crazy like her normal crazy - this was a new crazy. 

“Like a lioness, Y/N. You’re looking at that girl like you’re going to kill her.” Jimin whined. “And more importantly, you’re not looking at me. We could have so much fun tonight, stop looking at him!”

Y/N sighed, faced Jimin’s expectant eyes, and found that familiar twinge to them that she always did. Her absurdity was his normal - he accepted her just as she was. He always did. 

That’s why she could get attached to Jimin. She never felt threatened, never felt unsafe, never felt like she had to fight for it because he knew. He knew her, and he knew that she’d stop playing when she started to lose. She didn’t care enough to stick around.

So, why in God’s name was she so, so obsessed with that obnoxious ball of human nerves and hyper emotionality named Jungkook? 

In what world would her abnormal normal brain let her get any sense of infatuation for that thing?

Why did she care so deeply that that girl had better boobs than her - a bigger ass and a nicer dress?

Why did she not care about the horror movie and wine bottles that Jimin promised her back at home if she just had fun like she always did tonight?

And why did she not care that it was her mom’s birthday?

Usually, she was full of ecstasy on these days - high off the wrecked life of the wretched woman she once called mother and a bit conflicted about where she stood in the universe without a single familial tie - she was the perfect club rat on this cursed anniversary. 

Jimin was always there, ready to join in on her fun, her celebration, and her inevitable emotional breakdown at the end of the night where she weighed the hypothetical guilt she should feel for not being able to connect with her one living parent.

Which always made her think about her father, about that day when he pulled the trigger…

But today, she couldn’t think about any of those things. Her mind wouldn’t go there. She could only think about one thing - Jeon Jungkook. 

From the moment she woke up that morning, when Jungkook dragged her into the shower and ate her out under the water before making her a yogurt bowl while she got her skincare done.

She was thinking, turning over, analyzing every action, step, and breath that he took. 

On the subway over, where she was usually entranced into a book, or a podcast, she instead opted to watch his face, the way it shifted with each thought that he had, the way his cheeks blushed when her fingers grazed his. 

She thought about holding his hand.

She thought about eating those yogurt bowls every morning - would he make something different if she asked? She never asked for the yogurt bowls in the first place, how does he know that she likes them so much? She’s never said anything to him. Can he read her mind?

She thinks about him reading her mind when he corners her against the copiers that day when Jimin and Namjoon are out on an errand, and she definitely thinks about ditching Jimin for the night when he begs her to, but she can’t.

She’s sick of it - sick of thinking about him, touching him, being around him. 

She’s making herself sick, all the time. She wants to cure herself of whatever this disease is. She hates it. 

She’s never felt this way - not for Eunwoo, not for Jimin, god, obviously not for Namjoon. 

Maybe she felt this way when she was really young. When another man was the center of her life - when she thought about holding her father’s hand instead of one of his many mistresses. When she thought about his art, his movies, watched them endlessly day and night - way too young for the sex and the pain in them, but desperate to learn something about the quiet, handsome man that seemed so enamored with the monster that was his wife.

But she pushed that parallel aside, and didn't think about it. Instead, she fought with him, made out with Jimin in front of him, all the while glaring down every girl he danced with. 

She just wishes that they would have some decency. Why are they all so easy with him?? Why does every girl that he goes up to just accept his advances? Why won’t someone just reject him? He’s incredibly annoying - it shouldn’t be this hard for someone to reject him. 

“Y/N, seriously,” Jimin has had enough. He truly had. “You need to stop this.”

Her gaze snaps back to him, trying her best to digest his words amidst the music, the wind, and the traffic back down on the ground that echoes up around them on the rooftop. 

“Stop what?”

“The Jungkook thing. You’re taking it way too far.”

Y/N stares at him, suddenly suspicious. Jimin knows something. Of course, he does. Why didn’t she think of it before? Jimin, who knows her better than (almost) anyone else - what does he think!?!?

“What do you mean by that?!” She asks, voice loud to get through the chaos, but she’s already dragging him over somewhere quieter by the bar where she can order a courageous shot of something, anything and downs it as Jimin readies her for the answer.

“Y/N, this is - I don’t know! I’ve never seen you like this. Usually, you pick a guy for the month, torture him, play with him, and dump him. It’s been over a year with this one. What are you doing!?!?”

Y/N whimpered, ordered another shot. 

“Y/N, seriously, even with Eunwoo when you went back for your final year. I mean, we didn’t really keep in touch, but I heard stuff, and it didn’t sound like this.”

“Eunwoo was a friend,” she tried to explain, hands gripping at each other for some stability, some sense. “He was a friend first, and it was different. I loved him, but not like that.”

Jimin stalls, twitches a bit.

“Do you love him?”

Y/N chokes on her shot - it’s the third one now - and grabs Jimin’s arm for stability. The older man pulls her in close, holds her steady as he stares deep into her eyes - reads them for something comprehensible.

“Y/N…” “Jimin, I don’t know-”

“Just, let me…” he clears his throat, stares back into her eyes. “Jeon Jungkook is walking downstairs right now with the girl he was dancing with. He’s leaving without you.”

Instant panic - her head snaps back in a second, scours the area for Jungkook, for that girl, and for a way to get in between them.

“Wow,” Jimin’s voice calls her attention back to him. “I’ve never seen you do that.”

“Do what?” she questioned, eyes wide with curiosity. Yes, Jimin, tell her what was wrong with her. Translate these feelings for her.

“Y/N,” he asked, eyes suddenly devoid of any judgment. “Do you think Jungkook loves you?” 

She shrugged. 

“Do you think I love you?” 

She nodded, certain. 

He sighed. 

“What would you do if Jungkook said he didn’t love you?” 

She glanced away for a second, trying to avoid Jimin’s eyes, trying to tear herself away from his suffocating hold. The question itself made her uncomfortable, made her panic. 

“I want an answer,” Jimin said, voice steady against the ocean of sound. 

Y/N felt stuck on words - felt them jumble up in her mouth and wrap around her tongue. 

She willed some stillness in herself, some composure. Whatever comes first to mind, she thought to offer it up:

“I’d make him.” She answered, honestly and truthfully. She didn’t want to manipulate Jimin to feel a certain way, and she didn’t want to try and convince herself. She wanted to know, and so she spoke as it came. “I’d make him love me. Wait until he does.”

Jimin smiled, a little proud, a little sad. He seemed to decide something then and there. To let her be? 

To stop meddling?

“Okay, fine. Go get your man.” 

“Where is he?” 

“He left like five minutes ago.” He said, Y/N’s eyes widened in panic. “Without the girl! He walked down alone!”

She calmed down, looked around, looked back at Jimin.

“I need a ride.”

[maladaptivejeon]

𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 (𝕡𝕥. 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖)

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

summary: lawyer!au where burned out attorney Jeon Jungkook starts his own barely-functioning firm and accidentally hires an even bigger problem themes: oh brother, fastest slow burn imaginable; unhinged workplace dynamics; “what is wrong with you” x “no seriously, what is wrong with you” energy; chaotic coworker ensemble; blurred professional/personal boundaries; power imbalances; questionable coping mechanisms; dark humor; emotional repression series warnings: mdni! explicit content, workplace power dynamics, toxic coping mechanisms, degradation/humiliation themes, dom/sub undertones, restraint/bondage (handcuffs etc), threesome-ish situations, feetplay, s*xual tension tied to control/instability, messy consent-adjacent dynamics, s*bstance use, dark themes intertwined with s*xual content wc: ~15k(chapter total)/~70k (series total) a/n: (tg: @mikrokookiex @prxdajeon @bjoriis @somehowukook) ~ Part Five ~

When the sun came up, he wished he had broken his spine on the landing. At least he’d be in a hospital and not packing to get in the car with Minji, back to his apartment where she was everywhere. Her food in the fridge, her clothes in his closet, her rug in his living room. 

He hated how easily they merged again. How easy it was to fall back. 

“Eat something.” 

It was Jimin, sitting next to him at the buffet table. Minji, Taehyung, and Yoongi were too busy getting mimosas at the bar, so they had left him alone in the booth. 

He was enjoying chewing the crappy pastries with his lonesome, but when Jimin landed next to him, it felt like a ray of sunshine had dropped into his cock-piss-shit-and-guts soup. 

“I am,” Jungkook defended, mawling over the dense dough in his mouth. 

“Something real.” 

Jimin pushed a cup of fruit at him just as Namjoon slid into the booth, sitting across from Jungkook. 

“Snuck some nips from the mini fridges,” he bragged, dumping a pile of mini baileys and whiskey bottles. Jimin cackled and pushed his iced coffee to the center. They started dumping the liquor in. 

“Breakfast buffet penicillin.” Namjoon said to Jungkook, as if to name the ceremony for him. Jungkook just smiled as the two men argued about the ratios, passed the glass back and forth for taste tests and finally got Jungkook to take an honorary chug. 

In the middle of that disgusting gulp, Y/N slid in next to Namjoon with her humbly packed plate. 

“No other spots left,” she said, but there were several empty tables. Plain to sight. 

Jungkook managed a small smile and pushed the glass towards her. 

“It’s delicious.”

For a moment - amidst the shared spit of the drink, Jimin’s generous contribution of a recent hookup story, and Y/N’s cold, off putting comments to Namjoon’s over the top intellectual analyses - the quartet was back. It felt like it did in the beginning - messy, easy, but fun. 

“Thanks for sitting with me, guys,” Jungkook said before they left with their cleared plates to pack up their rooms. Namjoon and Jimin shot him some signature poor Jungkook smiles. Y/N just stared.

By the time they all piled out for their cars, everything checked out and painstakingly paid for with the Amex, the trio had ripped away from him, returning to the outskirts of the way things were now as Taehyung, Yoongi, and Minji surrounded him in their wake - a cloud of anxiety. 

But the momentary bliss was nice, and it made Jungkook as uneasy as it did grateful. He was in a constant bout of losing and gaining himself, and that morning at the booth felt like a lifeline - a realization. 

This had all been a mistake. Watching Changwook was confirmation enough - life was better with Jimin, Namjoon, and most importantly, Y/N. He had to keep them around. 

So, when Monday rolled around, and he was met with not one, but three resignation letters on his desk, he was beyond words - beyond comprehension. Beyond panic. 

He called them in one by one. Jimin first. If anyone could make sense of this for him, it would be Jimin. 

“Just getting a little bored,” Jimin said, that sad smile forever imprinted on his face. “Things were fun for a while, but - oh, Jungkook, don’t take it personally - Y/N and I, we just get bored after a while. Things go a little sour.”

Jungkook doesn’t even attempt to hide his tears. 

“Things went sour?”

Jimin had looked genuinely touched. 

“Oh, Jungkook.” he said, holding his hand to his sternum. 

Namjoon wasn’t as soft, wasn’t as gentle.

“Can’t work with those two testosterone deficient idiots. I already work with two idiots, and that’s my max. You were an exception. I won’t be making anymore.”

“Alright, well-”

“And, Jungkook…” Namjoon looked at him. “You don’t look good.” 

Jungkook knew that.

“Kind of like when I first met you. But you looked okay for a bit there. A while ago. I hope you find that again.”

Y/N refused to come to his office. Jimin had to drag her over.

“.. No, little miss thing… you’re going in there… saying goodbye properly…”

Jungkook listened restlessly to the rustle until the door opened, a hand shoved Y/N in and shut the door behind her. 

Too bad, too, she was on it faster than light - ready to make her exit - but alas, she was met with a closed door, nowhere to go but to face Jungkook. 

And she did, slow, never once meeting his eyes. 

“I’ll be out before the end of the day. I have all of my winding down documents -”

“You can’t be serious.”

She still wouldn’t look at him, choosing to roll her eyes at the ceiling instead, as if she just couldn’t bring herself to care. 

“Are you going to that douchebag’s firm? Already have your job lined up, I presume.”

She mumbled something under her breath. He asked her to repeat it.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” 

He smiles, nasty, disgusted. 

“Dropping the honorifics on the last day?”

She shrugged.

“Yeah. Not my boss.”

“But I am your senior.”

She scoffed, and under her breath, “in what sense…”

His smile continued to twist, hiding behind pounds of regret, betrayal, and hurt. 

“Is that it, Y/N?” he asked, eyes still digging to look directly into hers, but it was like that first day, during the interview - she had a million and one ways to avoid what she didn’t want, and she clearly didn’t want to look at him. 

“Is what it?” Barely an ounce of interest in her voice for the answer.

“You think you’re better than me, is it?” 

She finally looked, utterly confused and annoyed.

“What does it matter? Haven’t I, always? Haven’t you known, always?”

Jungkook’s turn to shrug. 

“No, not exactly sure why I’d think an antisocial loser with no friends, no life and no true career aspects would think she’s better than me.”

The words let out of him like steam. She doesn’t react, but he takes her silence as a reaction. 

A sign to keep pushing. Until he gets a proper reaction. 

“Like, seriously,” he’s laughing, tossing aside her resignation letter in the trash - it means nothing, “I figured I was helping you out here. Glad you outgrew us, Y/N.”

Her eyes follow the letter down into the bin. She still doesn’t react to a single word out of his mouth - it’s like she’s too bored to listen - but the letter. Her eyes stick on that. That seems to get at her.

“That’s for your records,” she says, plainly, and that makes him lose it. 

He’s on his feet, walking around the desk as he watches her carefully. She looks cemented on her spot by the door. He can see her hand twitching towards the knob. 

“Records of what, Y/N? You working here? Trust me, don’t think I’ll remember it long. I’m just glad you-”

“Okay, I’m going to leave now. I will send my wind down documents -”

His laugh cuts her off again. 

“God, you fucking weirdo.” 

She stops talking. 

“I mean, everything aside, I’m surprised you survived this long with actual normal people in the office.” 

Her ears turn pink. Bingo. Found it. 

“God, I can’t even begin to explain to you how offputting you’ve been, Y/N. I’m sad about Jimin and Namjoon, but thank god for you. You would have driven the rest of us off with your yelling, your attitude, your weird fucking eye contact. Need I mention that you have been absolutely useless - won’t help with any of the cases I need help on, and it’s a miracle you even call yourself a lawyer to begin with. Can someone incapable of holding human conversation even qualify to call themselves a -”

He doesn’t realize how close he’s gotten until Y/N shoves him. Hard, sends him back a good foot away from her. 

He doesn’t realize how angry he’s gotten - how blind - until he sees the tears.

Actual, full drop tears on her face.

His body’s reaction was entirely out of his control - tiny shushes, hums, and a sudden closing in of her bodice - his arms trying to hold her still so he could lick the wounds he had just opened on her, just apologize, apologize, repeatedly - it was a mistake, he got angry, he wasn’t thinking straight.

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s holding onto her until she starts fighting against his grip like an animal, thrashing the best she could no matter how futile it was. He was stronger, and he didn’t want to let go. 

Please, he wanted to beg, don’t make me let go. 

It wasn’t until she found a way, a kick to his shin and a twist of her wrist to threaten snapping his fingers off that he finally released, letting her escape the wall and move to the middle of the room, staggering the slightest bit as she turned around. 

His mouth was open and he had twisted to face her - ready to keep fighting - when he saw it. 

Her shoulders hunched, a hand to her mouth, and a sob. 

A true to goodness sob. 

It seemed to break her as much as it did him, because she was down on her knees with the next one, the action of crying actually physically incapacitating her balance. 

Her hands touched down to soften the fall, but her knees grazed the rough, old office rug as she fell down onto it. 

Her head leaned forward as her hands dug into that rug, nails biting down as if to rip it off. 

Her shoulders shook, and Jungkook felt a lifetime drain from him as he saw the tears landing on the floor, on her hands. 

“I’m trying,” she seethed, but her words were eaten up by a big sniffle and a second sob. “I’m constantly trying.” Jungkook’s whole body felt like it was shaking. He wanted nothing more than to grab her, pull her into his lap and just rock. Back and forth. For hours. 

Maybe that would fix things. 

“Y/N…”

“No!” Her voice felt like a knife, and he couldn’t help it - he took a step, two in her direction, and she was immediately scrambling to get back up. “No!” 

She screamed again, finally on her feet, holding her hand out to stop him. 

“Don’t come near me.” She seethed, hands wiping at her tears, her mouth trying to breathe through this moment. 

“Y/N..” he tried again, voice soft and feet closing only an inch of distance before she took a whole step back. 

“I quit.” She insisted, hands catching on his desk as she accidentally cornered herself against it, her body getting ready to climb over him if that meant escape.

He felt like a lion, misunderstood, as he tries to nurse a lamb back to health. 

He marched ahead a little more confidently, one, two steps and he had closed her in despite her quick attempts to walk around him, get away from him. 

He had her arms in his hands and kept her there - still against the desk.

“I get two weeks, Y/N. I don’t care what you think of me, but I swear to god, I will drag your name through unimaginable dirt if you leave without -”

“This is cruel,” She choked out, gasping in distress as his hands came down to grab her waist, holding her a little closer. 

If this is the end, then I at least…

“I’ll make sure no one fucking hires you.” 

That was a promise.

“I’ll make sure that you can never leave here, even if you wanted to…”

She hiccuped, another sob building on her beautiful, beautiful face.

Jungkook was a puddle - an idea - not quite a person as he witnessed all that he did. Y/N crying - he wasn’t exactly ever so sure that it would break him like this, but he felt absolutely, insanely broken. 

“... if you don’t give me those two weeks. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Jimin is mad at him after. Y/N is a mess as she walks back to her office, and Minji seems angry at the chaos, dying to know what happened in Jungkook’s office, but Jimin won’t let her get a single second alone before he’s in there making a scene.

“We’re having a conversation.” Minji responds to his intrusion, but Jimin is livid. 

He holds a hand up to her face as he comes up to Jungkook’s desk, standing directly in front of it. 

“She needs to leave.”

“She?!” Minji chokes out, hand to her chest at the insult. “I’m your boss, you imbecile.”

“Jungkook!” Jimin shouts. “Out! Get her out!”

Jungkook tells Minji he’ll meet her at her office in a second.

“No, the hell you won’t,” Jimin spits, closing the door behind her and marching back over to Jungkook’s desk, getting right in front of his chair and grabbing him by the collar.

“Why is she crying!?” 

Jungkook is.. Startled… to say the least.

In a matter of seconds, he is enlightened to how strong Jimin is. 

He tries to pull away but one tug from Jimin is enough to keep him still - or at the very least, threaten to rip his shirt clean off. 

“We were nice to you, asshole. We kept you afloat, we put you on the map. Admit it.”

Jungkook cannot open his mouth to get a single word out without Jimin’s voice doubling, tripling in volume, so he just takes it. 

“You’re wondering how things turned sour?? Look around, dumbass! Everything sucks, now - you’re doing too much work for not enough money and getting drained out your ass by those two leechy associates, who’d put their toilet paper on the expense sheet if you let them. They bitch more than they work!”

“Jimin-”

“No, you absolute heathen, I am taking that girl and walking out of here right this instant - you have no idea. No idea what she’s been through! I do! I have followed her around since she was a little summer intern, barely 21 - you have no idea what that girl carries with her, what she thinks, how she feels!”

“Jimin, please, I’m sorry.”

He’s glad to get the apology out. It makes Jimin stop, pause.

Jungkook is crying now. Uncontrollably. 

“I-I” between hiccups - there is no comfort. Jimin won’t offer him any. He has a hard stare, and Jungkook knows that seeing Y/N like that has turned him to stone.

“Get it out. You’re an adult.”

Jungkook stills at the coolness in his tone. The tension sobers him out of his panic.

“Two weeks. Let me fix this. I-”

He chokes again, Jimin raises an eyebrow as if to say you-haven’t-convinced-me-yet.

“I carry things, too. She -” he stifles another sob, closes his eyes. 

Imagines her in bed sleeping soundly on his chest. 

“I want to follow, her, too, it’s just-”

He cries, softly, into his hands. 

“Figure it out, Jeon.” Jimin says, curtly. “You have two weeks.”

He only needs five days. 

—

Day 1 - Tuesday. 

Jungkook starts the day with a cold shower and flushes the viagra pills down the drain. No more. (He holds onto the rest of the prescriptions for now, the xanax couldn’t hurt). 

First step on his road to redemption (how many times can one traverse on this path?) is breaking things off with Minji.

“I hope they institutionalize you.”

That’s the worst of her reactions. The best part is her quitting the firm, effective immediately.

“And I’m taking Taehyung and Yoongi. They’re my associates.”

Jungkook nods in between gulps of a green smoothie he’s determined to chug down - he’s healing himself inside out. 

“Yes, they absolutely are.”

He runs six miles on the treadmill after she leaves, promising to have movers at his place by the afternoon. 

He spends another three hours in front of his computer, sending letters out to all of their clients, letting them know that they should look for new counsel because Jeon & Associates will no longer be accepting any corporate clients. 

Then, he gets to work. Real work. He goes through every reservation, suggestion Jimin has ever made for after work drinks, and manages to book a table for Friday evening - only takes him fifteen calls, two emails, and one silent prayer. 

“Hook us up with everything - bottles, food - I want the best, biggest section.” 

By the time 10 pm hits, he’s more than ready to sleep off the day’s efforts. 

Day 2 - Wednesday. 

Jungkook is at the office early. Two hours early.

He spends the entire morning - watches the sun rise through the windows as he packs up all three offices of the ex employees. Not a trace of them left behind. He throws out their snacks from the fridge, their photos thumbtacked get recycled, and he packs the rest into boxes and leaves them outside for the mail guys to pick up. 

Then, he gets to setting the lobby up with the banner, the balloons, the cake, and the two gift wrapped bottles of champagne. 

He’s more than aware that Y/N won’t come into the office the day after everything went down, but Namjoon and Jimin show up right on time. 

“Surprise!” Jungkook screeches upon their entry. 

The duo let out the loudest scream possible - horror movie octaves - clutching each other in fear as Jungkook pops a confetti bomb in their face.

“What the fuck!?” Namjoon screams, clutching onto Jimin for dear life.

“You got glitter in my hair!” Jimin’s scream is blood curling, as if he’s been stabbed. 

Jungkook smiles proudly at them. Shoves the champagne bottles into their hands. 

“Something is different,” Jimin notes, warily, eyes swimming around, borderline on the verge of tears from his fright. “Why don’t I smell exactly five too many spritzes of Dior Sauvage?” 

Namjoon’s nose starts sniffing around. 

“And the stench of dried cum and zyns?” 

The duo share a look - one of indescribable relief - before turning their attention to Jungkook - eyes brimmed with happy tears now.

“We’re back.” Jungkook whispers. Eyes shut and arms wide open. 

The pair tackle him to the ground with their hugs - three grown men laughing on the floor in their suits. 

Jimin snuggles into the middle, wraps his arm around their shoulders before letting out a big sigh of relief.

“Great decision, Mr. Jeon. Terrific decision.”

Jungkook smiled at the praises, nodded fervently. 

“I was a sick man for letting those pariahs in here. A sick, sick man.” 

Jimin nods, hits Jungkook’s chest. 

“Absolutely, you were.”

“What made you realize…” Namjoon prods, not quite sure on how to word his question. 

“The idea of being alone with them.” Jungkook answered. He didn’t need to think on it any further than that. “Doing all of this without you guys - it just sounded like a nightmare.”

“That’s all?” Jimin’s face turns a little hard, not appeased by the answer. 

Jungkook sighs and pulls out from the cuddle sesh to stand in front of the two men. 

“That’s all,” he says, an odd shift in his tone. “I’m drawing a boundary.”

“The boundary being…?” Jimin pushes, sitting up a little straighter.

Next on Jungkook’s agenda - get Jimin and Namjoon on the same page.

“I think,” he starts, catching both of their gazes, “you’re both far more aware than I’d like of the situation between Y/N and I.”

“Aware and heartbroken, yes,” Namjoon adds. “It’s the most hopeless thing I’ve ever rooted for.”

“What are you trying to say?” Jimin asked - clearly in no mood to soften on the Y/N issue. Jimin could forgive him nine times over for his transgressions against him personally, but on the Y/N side of things, it would be a while until Jungkook got back into Jimin’s good graces. 

“I’m trying to say that, whatever is going on there, is between Y/N and I.”

Jimin glows red.

“Now, listen here-”

“No, Jimin. You listen.”

Jimin is taken a bit back. He holds his ground, but opts to hear the man out.

“I don’t want to share her with you guys. I appreciate the love you have for her, and when you want to hold me accountable for hurting her -”

Jimin shoots an approving but threatening look at that.

“But I want my own handbook. My own special handbook, and I don’t want to share that part with you guys.” 

“Aww,” Namjoon hums, lips pouting. “Jungkook, that’s beautiful-”

“On that note,” Jungkook’s voice turns a little hard, he’s focused on Jimin more than Namjoon at this point. Jimin’s focus goes right back through him. 

This has always been a competition.

“She’s mine.”

Jimin’s jaw clicks. His eyes narrow.

“You may be her friend, but she’s mine. If I see either of you so much as look at her when she’s bending over, I will see to it that you never get another job at a law firm ever again.”

Namjoon is all smiles, and thumbs-upses, but Jimin is not on board.

“Deal’s off. Forgiveness retracted,” he says - not an ounce of rumor to his tone. 

“Wasn’t an offer, Jimin,” Jungkook insists, muscles flexing under his shirt as he crosses his arms - a show of force. “No more girl’s night makeout sessions.”

“Not really your choice, is it?” Jimin pushes. “In fact, try it. Try getting to her without my approval. See what happens.”

“Okay, not sure where this is all coming from, but may I remind both of you that Jimin is gay? Jimin, do you remember that you’re gay?” Namjoon tries, but the men are still at it. 

“Jimin,” Jungkook tries again, softening his gaze when his threats don’t pull off. He can’t scare Jimin off of Y/N. He needs to rationalize her away. “Are you going to keep at it like this forever?”

Jimin falters - hesitates for a moment, so Jungkook keeps pushing. 

“I know you think you’re helping, but you’re her crutch to keep from growing.” 

Jimin considers the contention. 

“Everytime she has to confront something, you’re there softening the blow, explaining her away, facilitating her relationships.”

Jimin is fully silenced. There is something swimming in his eyes - some incessance that’s fighting against reason. 

“I can’t have middle men in this. I won’t.” Jungkook states. “I can’t blame her for it, either. I know why she needs you, Jimin. Know why she likes you.”

Jimin warms up a little at that, eyes meeting his to find some solace. 

“I want her to need me, Jimin. I think you’re rooting for that, too.”

A silent smile is exchanged between the two men and the peace is made. No more sleepover make out sessions. No more letting Y/N get away with it - with everything that she does.

If he needs to heal, so does she.

“Okay, Jimin and I won’t be Y/N’s makeout buddies anymore. Because you asked nicely.” Namjoon says, a cocky smile on his lips. 

“Namjoon, no one was worried about you.” Jimin mumbles, and Jungkook laughs. They all laugh. 

Day 3 - Thursday. 

Y/N is back in the office, and the boys are on their best behavior when she comes in an hour late, dressed in the most casual outfit she could probably muster up - an athleisure set that makes her look unreal, but her goal is clear: resident bad employee.

So, she’s ready to fight a war - to get Jungkook to release her from her shackles two weeks early - and that vigor is met, not with aggression, but with utter and complete defeat.

She looks terrified to see everyone gone.

“Did they die?” She asks, “Was there a car accident with all of them in it?” 

There is a glint in her eye like she was praying for a calamity of the sort.

Jungkook eavesdrops with his office door open. Jimin laughs at her.

“Jungkook fired them.”

“Why?”

“Beats me.” 

That takes her even more off guard than the battleground without any soldiers in tow. 

“Like he hasn’t told you, or…?”

“Or, Y/N. Find out for yourself if you’re so curious.” 

Jungkook wants to pat the man on the back, but he instead shoots him a silent, grateful look as Y/N saunters over to her office, confused as ever. 

Uh-oh. 

Dissuading Jimin’s influence felt like a real grown up move until Jungkook realized that he also needed him to facilitate Y/N’s relationships for her - he kind of forgot that Y/N always had the option of just not engaging with anyone without her mediator. 

Jimin shrugged at his silent turmoil. 

Obviously, the next thing on Jungkook’s agenda is to talk to Y/N, to apologize, to somehow make it all better.

At the very least, invite her to the outing tomorrow. 

He cannot leave his seat. He cannot leave his office. 

He is stunted on the path to redemption. What else is new?

Day 4 - Friday.

“Big. Boy. Pants.”

“Jimin, I can’t. You don’t understand.” 

Jimin was getting comfy in Jungkook’s armchair again - he had stopped by more in the last two days than he did in the last two months combined. 

“You asked me to stop meddling. I’m done meddling. You gotta give her the invite.”

“Giving it to her is one thing-”

‘Which you’re too scared to do. 

“- and getting her to say yes is another.”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

“That’s your problem,” he said, pushing the fan in his hand in Jungkook’s direction as if to point out his flaws, one by one. “You set your goals too high. One step at a time, Mister. First, get yourself to speak to her. Then, worry about her showing up tonight.”

Jungkook nods. He’s right. 

He hadn’t said a single word to Y/N since her resignation. Not even a hello. 

Jimin groaned. 

“Ok, I’m not meddling, but I have a stack of court orders that Y/N asked me to print out, and I’m dying to go out to get some hot chocolate. So, if you want to give these papers to her…”

Jungkook was on his feet at once, basically ripping the paper away from Jimin’s hands. 

Namjoon didn’t even look up from his desk as Jungkook whizzed past it - just smiled down at the discovery in front of him and shot a thumbs up somewhere near Jimin’s direction. 

Y/N’s door was closed. Obviously. 

Jungkook grimaced to himself, took a deep breath, lifted his hand to knock -

And just as he had built the courage to bring his fist down, the door swung open, and Y/n appeared, mid step.

“Oh.”

“O-Oh.”

She stared up at him. 

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

He registered her words, coughed randomly and faked a stretch as he got out of her way, mumbling something about putting the papers down at her desk.

She rolled her eyes while walking away, and he caught it, trying not to take it too hard. 

When he went to place the copies on her desk, he froze a little. Unsure of what to do. Should he linger? Wait for her to come back? Close the door and surprise her? Leave and come back?

He sighed, bent over in frustration before straightening back out. 

His eyes fell on a notepad on her desk. 

Defeated, he wrote the invite down there - Firm event at Lion’s Share at 10 pm.

He stared down at the words, wasn't sure if they were clear enough. 

Decided to add : .. Be there.

—

Y/N was not there.

It’s 10:30 pm, and Jimin and Namjoon have taken turns every five minutes hyping him about how good of a place he picked, and how fun this all is. 

“Even without bitches.” Namjoon adds, eyes scouring the crowd. “Because there are absolutely NO bitches here.”

“Taehyung and Yoongi started rubbing off on you,” Jimin groaned, lightly slapping his cheek. “Cut it out.”

Jungkook is devastated. He had ran up a 10k bill at this place before they even walked in - and for what?

“I know. I caught myself cutting out carbs the other day. Subconsciously.”

Maybe they’ll give him a refund if they leave the table now. Go home in shame and sit in the dark, in the shower, with the worst rap he can think to put on blasting through the walls - that’s the only way he’s going to survive this.

“Why do you look this upset?” Jimin asks. “You didn’t think your very first idea was going to work, right? What do you have planned next?” 

Jungkook shoots him the most hopeless, lost look Jimin has ever seen.

“You absolute dumbass.” Namjoon blurts out. Jungkook holds out his hands, exasperated.

“I feel like I’ve aged 12 years in the last 12 months. I have never had to experience this many emotions this fast - of course, I’m drained of ideas. I have been chasing this woman for 12 months - I have tried everything!”

“Have you tried not blowing everything up and going back to the other lady that made you want to kill yourself?”

“Namjoon, you’re done.” Jungkook snaps. “One more word, and you’re going to start paying for your own drinks.”

He nurses his bottle of tequila like it’s a child about to be ripped away from his arms and shoots an apologetic look. 

“Well, is he wrong?” Jimin asks, lips pursed, a little pissed.

Jungkook was getting used to this new, tough, strict side of Jimin - no nonsense, appears every now and then when Jungkook says something triggering about Y/N.

God, and he means it this time, just please kill him.

“I’m just saying, I don’t know why inviting her out to a club of all places was your magic idea -”

“I never got to go on a date with her.”

Jungkook says this so earnestly, it almost makes Jimin gasp. Namjoon laughs at that, but he has watched Jungkook’s face enough over the past year to know that nothing about this is funny, or humorous. 

Jungkook means it - he never got to go on a date with her. He doesn’t know what else he’d invite her to do. They’re just coworkers. 

Namjoon stares a little amazed at the circle around him - a whole world made up of coworkers.

It matters who you work with, he thinks. He hugs his bottle of tequila a little closer.

“I feel…” Jungkook drifts off. Shakes his head. Gets up.

“Jungkook…” Jimin whispers, lightly holding onto his hand. Jungkook smiles a sad smile.

“I’m going to head home. You guys wrap up here - enjoy the reservation, the tab. Seriously.”

Namjoon tears up a little. Shoots to his feet and wraps the shorter man in a big hug.

“It’s going to be okay big guy,” Namjoon sobs and Jimin snorts. “You’re going to get her back. We’re all going to be a big happy family again. Also, how much can we run up on the tab?”

And, here’s what you should know. You should know that Jungkook got home at 5:30 pm that night and spent four HOURS trying to pick out the perfectly delicious, sultry outfit - a tight black boat neck long sleeve that he paired with a muscle tank with both stopping a little short of the waistline of it his perfectly tailored blue jeans and a pair of real leather cowboy boots. He had taken inspiration from Jimin, but it was perfect. 

He had showered, put on the perfect two, cautious dabs of cologne. Shaved just for this. 

He had spent the first three minutes through the doors of the club just checking out his reflection and practicing the perfect forlorn but tempting gaze to greet Y/N with as she walked through the doors.

He even made sure to situate himself in such a way in the section that it looked like Jimin and Namjoon were so very enamored by him, he even thought about getting a couple of bottle girls to surround them before Y/N’s arrival - 

All that to say that he TRIED to look good. He really did.

But Y/N walked in at 11:08, and Jungkook had tears on his face, Namjoon’s arms around his body, and Jimin laughing at them.

“What did I miss?” 

Y/N was effortless, maybe it was a result of her bad employee act - the showing up late, the loose wavy hair, the slightly smoky makeup. 

The little black dress. It couldn’t be more perfect.

“Why is Jungkook dressed like Jimin?”

“Oh, Y/N,” Namjoon cried, jumping down from the platform to hug Y/N instead, spinning her around. 

Y/N was immediately screeching at him to be put down, but it was Jungkook’s gaze locked on his that did it - something reminiscent of didn’t-we-just-talk-about-this.

“God, what the hell has gotten into to all of you?!” Y/N screeched, adjusting her dress and her hair as Namjoon let her down. “Why is everyone acting absolutely insane!?”

Jimin looks up at Jungkook with a smile like, “well?” 

“Because we’re back, baby!” Namjoon screamed at the top of his lungs. 

Y/N raised an eyebrow at Jungkook who simply could not meet her gaze. 

“Is that so?”

“Come on, Y/N, the party poopers are gone,” Jimin enticed, grabbing her hand and dragging her up into the section. She eyed the overflowing amount of alcohol that had been set up for them.

“What a shame…” She said, eyes twinkling with something cruel. “They would have loved this.”

“Pfft, please,” Namjoon shouted from below them, body now jumping around to the music. “They wouldn’t know what to do with all of this. They sucked.”

“Yeah, all they did was talk about having fun - I never actually saw them having fun!” Jimin continued, and him and Namjoon slowly took their conversation over to the dance floor as Y/N and Jungkook lingered behind. 

“Are you having fun?” Jungkook tried screaming over the music, but Y/N’s eyes were no longer directed right at him. 

She slowly closed those glittery eyes as she moved to the beat, body just swaying in the most perfect way possible. Cool, careless, as if all she could feel was the bass.

“Can I get you anything?” He tried again, and he could see it this time that she heard him, but brushed him off, trying to dance away from him, but he couldn’t have that.

He knew he shouldn’t cross the boundary at this time, but he reached over and grabbed her arm - instinctively - half not meaning to. She immediately froze, and he knew why. The way she looked down, the way her eyes widened - she was back in Jungkook’s office, him yelling at her. 

“Let go.” Her voice was full and solid and he didn’t hesitate. Immediately dropped her arm at her request. She looked from him to where his hand just was before looking back into his eyes - something furious swimming in hers. 

She didn’t look at him the way he expected her to - he expected victory, i-told-you-so, some relief for the fact that they could be around each other again. White flags, Jungkook assumed. 

But that’s not what she seemed to carry at all. She was brewing with a vengeful look - a need to twist his arm, to pinch his skin. She wanted him to bleed a little, and Jungkook could tell.

She squinted a bit at him just then and leaned in, lips finding his ear - the heat of her breath sending a shiver down his spine. 

It felt like a song - the siren’s call - when she finally said: “I want a drink.”

“A-anything.” He said, not a moment missed as he pulled back a bit to stare at her face, gauge her reaction, ignoring the copious amounts of bottles surrounding them. 

When they locked eyes, she let out a smile - forced, not real. 

“Macallan?” She asked. 

He nodded.

“Pappy Van Winkle?” 

“Probably don’t have that here, but I can get it.”

“Jump on one foot.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

“I can tell.” 

They were screaming over the music at this point.

“What do you want exactly?” Y/N asked, “Are you going to try making me do something serious again?” 

The music picked up a bit, and that excited Y/N, her face broke out in a genuine smile - bright, bouncing, moving. She was singing along, jumping a bit, hands all over everything. 

Herself, her hair, then his face, then it was pulling him close, whispering in his ear again. 

“What do you want, Jungkook?” 

He wanted to melt into her in that instant, and his hand hovered, tortured above the small of her back. 

The way her hands leaned on his shoulders, the way she pushed up on her tippy toes, the way her lips grazed his ear.

All he could let out was a gurgled moan.

She laughed.

“Thought so.” 

“Just take back your resignation.” He begged, face chasing hers down, but she was already a step away, giving space between their bodies. “I freaked. I tried to change everything, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

She watched him with this off, far off smile - a rather insane interest twinkling in her eyes. She was figuring something out without him, and he wanted to know. God, he really wanted to know. 

He stopped dancing. 

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, voice as loud as he could manage. People were looking. 

She slowly stopped dancing. 

“I’m sorry about everything I did. I really don’t know why I did it.”

She squinted. He waited.

“I think that’s stupid, Jungkook.” 

The word, uncontrollably, made a vein in his forehead twitch. 

“I don’t know why I did it.” Y/N mocked before fake gagging. “God, it’s so pathetic.” 

He had no right to be offended, not after what he did during her resignation. But she was starting to take a turn into a kind of cruel he hadn’t seen from her. 

Other than that wine incident at the Tiger. She had that same look in her eyes now - the same one that she had stared at that kid with before dumping the wine on him. 

She didn’t look like his Y/N - the one who watched him, looked like she was trying to solve him. 

No, the Y/N in front of him knew him, solved him, was over him. 

Jungkook felt something break inside of him. He felt hopeless. He felt himself blend into the crowd - one big giant annoyance for Y/N. 

Wind pipe squeezed - that’s the only way Jungkook could describe his reaction to being rejected. His lifeline cut off - what was any of this for?

World closing in around him. 

“Jungkook…”

He doesn’t remember much after that.

—

Day 5 - Friday 

Jungkook is not exactly happy to wake up in the hospital. His body is definitely not happy. His head goes to the nearest memory replicating the circumstances - he must have had another seizure. 

He remembers the night before, most of what happened. The ache of it all rushes to the middle of his cranium, hitting him with the biggest migraine he has ever experienced, butbefore he can contemplate why god won’t spare him the torture and just blow up his brain into smithereens -

He sees her. Curled up on an uncomfortable little arm chair, by the window - the sunshine painting her face a fresh baby glow. 

Amongst the monitors and the fluorescents, she finds it in herself to look so ethereal. 

She’s fast asleep, but her eyebrows are scrunched and her fists are curled, and he sees the dark circles under her eyes.

Then, sees that she’s in the same clothes as she was last night - that little black dress.

He doesn’t know what to think.

Just then, the door to his room slides open and not surprisingly, Namjoon and Jimin pile in - shushing each other as they spot Y/N’s sleeping form, each carrying a shitty, hospital gift shop bouquet in hand. 

“Just wanted to check in,” Jimin whispers as he walks over Jungkook’s barely awake form. He leans over to peck the man’s forehead before handing the flowers over to him. “Don’t want to disturb the sleeping beauty.” he gazes over towards Y/N. 

“Sorry, bro. Tough stuff.” Namjoon said, leaning down to peck his forehead as well, making Jungkook recoil. He immediately blushed, a hand shot up to awkwardly scratch at his hair. “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night. My brain's not working.”

“Yeah, me neither, asshole,” Jungkook whisper-yells back, snatching the bouquet from him. “What happened? Why am I here?” 

“You fainted - fell pretty hard on your head.” Namjoon answers, jumping on to sit at the edge of his bed, making his whole body shake and his head zonk. 

Jungkook took a second to let the relief hit him. Ok, so he didn’t have a seizure. 

“How long has she been here?” He asked, his concern now floating over to the restless, exhausted body in the chair. 

“Oh, she hasn’t left.” Jimin says, a proud smile on his lips.

“Got into a fight with the nurses when visiting hours were over.” Namjoon added. “Told them they’d have to arrest her if they wanted her to leave.”

Jungkook’s eyes remain locked on her, lungs breathing a bit easy after hearing that. His head swims but calms all at the same time - she oils up those gears, makes the migraine ease a bit. 

Jimin speaks up first, raising his voice a bit in an attempt to stir Y/N into waking up naturally. 

Jungkook recalls her face glaring at him when they had woken up together that one morning - the anger in her eyes. He tries to shove a small, fleeting smile down as he recalls the memory - he doesn’t know how far away it is now, sleeping with Y/N in the same bed again. 

“Namjoon, why don’t you go grab some coffee downstairs? I’m sure she’ll appreciate it when she wakes up.” Jimin suggests, noticing the way Jungkook drifts off in his longing stare over at Y/N. Namjoon shoots him a knowing look and agrees, leaving the two men alone with Y/N’s comatose mini snores. 

Jimin then does the hard work of getting Jungkook to tear his gaze away from Y/N - tells the man that he doesn’t need to keep watch - and convinces him to take a walk out in the hall - get some fresh air by the windows.  

“She won’t disappear, I promise.” 

As they came upon the wide windows in the waiting room overlooking the city, Jimin spoke:

“I am sure that you’ve noticed that our Y/N is a bit odd-“

“What’s wrong with her?” Jungkook cut to the chase, jaw a little clenched as he stared at Jimin. “She won’t let me…” He stopped, sighed. Unsure. “What is her problem?”

Jimin sighed and rocked back on his feet a bit as he held on to the railing by the window.

“Where.. to.. start..” he sang out, rocking back and forth with each word - an awful attempt to stall.

“Jimin, I swear to god-“

“Ok, ok.” He stopped, turned around to lean on the railing. 

Big sigh, then he started.

Y/N was five when her dad killed himself. Parents were spoiled nepo artist types - mom was an actress, dad was a director. 20 year age gap. He shot himself in front of her in their summer villa. 

Her mom just kind of went insane after that. She hops from institution to institution, so the family attorney kind of just managed the money Y/N’s father left her, and in lieu of trying to find her a responsible adult to deal with her upbringing, he thought it sufficient to just throw her from boarding school to boarding school.

“Jesus…” 

“Oh, it gets better.”

The family attorney and the mom have an affair - he embezzles the funds. They’re left entirely destitute and Y/N is only 17 at the time. She claims that it didn’t affect her because she knew she was eventually going to go to a good school and get a good job so the year spent in the halfway homes was fine. It built character.

“That’s what she calls it?”

Jimin nods.

“Yeah, because that’s where she got diagnosed. I think that was good for her.”

Jungkook’s brain halts - it had taken Jimin 20 minutes to answer Jungkook’s question. What. Was. Wrong. With. Her.

“Socipath with narcissistic tendencies. The narcissism is probably genetic from her father. The sociopath bit is probably from her mom - triggered on by dad’s suicide.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows raised slightly. He couldn’t say it didn’t sound accurate, but he doesn’t know how to think that without being cruel.

He thinks her over in his head - her mannerisms, her weird sensitivities, her cruelty.

“She told you all of this?” Jungkook asked, leaning his weight against the railing - head feeling a bit light from the gradual relief from his migraine. 

Jimin nodded.

“Bits and pieces. I filled in the blanks via some intense google news searches.” He admitted, toying with a loose string on Jungkook’s medical gown. “And then, you know, the rumors…”

“Right.” Jungkook echoed, mouth drying up. “The law school bit.”

“She really loved that boy. Had never really loved a man before then, I think. She never talks about anyone before him. Only after…”

Jungkook listened, intently. 

“But the timing was wrong. It must have been a miscommunication - she thought he didn’t care, and he thought she didn’t care. When he killed himself, she was next to go. She tried.”

Jungkook’s heart thudded against his chest, his ears flooded with the pump of his blood. 

Changwook found her. He was reading by the bridge when he saw her body drop, swam out, dragged her out to the shore. CPR, and the whole deal.

“Google news article?”

Jimin nodded. 

“Changwook’s family paid a lot of money to make it look like it was a freak accident. Miracle good Samaritan moment.” 

Jungkook vaguely remembered that story about the man - something about saving a classmate from drowning right before graduation. 

“Did they…”

“Yeah, for sure.” Jimin laughed. “I think that it’s hard to be a man in her presence and not try. I say that as a gay man.”

“I question that, Jimin.”

Jimin laughed a little louder, smiled up at him. 

“But it fizzled. They’re good friends, and he was just one out of many in Y/N’s long list of fun partners. I knew he’d be at the resort. I just needed to make sure she had something lined up after this. Sorry for plotting against your back.”

Jungkook flushed with a bit of anger.

“You could have come to me. Asked me to change for her. I would have,” Jungkook argued, not giving Jimin the automatic and casual forgiveness he had set him up for. 

“Didn’t I?” 

Jungkook shut his mouth. 

“Exactly.”

He sighed, forehead against the railing. 

“What do I do?” 

Jimin clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head down at Jungkook, who stared up at him with an absolute want of deliverance.

“Not sure, Boss,” he quipped, turning around to position himself against the railing like Jungkook had, stretching his back out. “I have never seen anyone get this many chances with that girl. You’re in uncharted territory.”

“Best advice?” he tries, side eyeing him with a smile. 

Jimin’s smiling lips disappear behind his folded elbows on the railing. He shrugs.

“Follow my gut, maybe?” 

Jimin nods. 

“Within reason.” He modifies.

——

Jungkook walked back into the room, where the sun was still bathing Y/N, but she looked a little comfier in the chair now that the room was empty. 

Jungkook smiled. She really did sleep better alone.

He looked down the hall and asked a nurse to take his IV out - told her he doesn’t need the constant drip of Tylenol and fluids.

“She’s painkiller enough.” He said to the nurse, not really thinking twice about it. 

She helped take the IV out and clean him up by the reception desk so that the noise didn’t wake Y/N up.

“That’s very sweet of you,” the nurse said as she rubbed over the bandaid to secure it into place. “What a lovely young couple. She seems crazy about you.”

He walked back into the room, freed from the shackles, and feeling incredibly rejuvenated for someone with a concussion. 

He walked up the arm chair, towered over her sleeping body for a moment as he took in the nurse’s words.

“Seems crazy about you…”

His fingers came down to toy with a loose wave, twisting it in his hands before he crouched down to get at eye level with her. She stirred a bit, her hand coming up lazily to swat away at him.

“Go away…” she murmured, cuddling into a tight little ball as she tried to shut him out. 

He thought it over once or twice before reaching over and scooping her up into his arms to carry her over to his bed. 

She was too sleepy to put up a real fight, but she stirred, her eyebrows furrowed and so did her fists, and she started pushing at him, weakly, once he got her on the bed, pulled her right into his side.

“Mmghm- what-“ words fell like accidents from her lips as her squinted gaze tried to adjust to the sunlight in the room and to the restraint of Jungkook’s arm around her.

She pushed against his chest with the strength of a two year old - a little more thoughtfully this time. 

“Move” She muttered, eyes still closed and lips barely open as she tried to twist away, but his gentle hold just coaxed her back towards his chest, his other hand coming to pet over her hair in an attempt to lull her back into sleep.

Her resistance died soon after. She curled a little tighter into him, her fingers wrapped around his shirt and rested on his chest, and her cheeks smushed against his pec with the return of those little snores. 

He smiled. How could he not. 

He dozed off for a bit like that before waking up to, no shock, Y/N staring him down.

“God, woman, do you know how terrifying it is when you do that?” 

“You’re okay.”

It’s a statement.

“Define okay.” He says, trying to put on the most injured face he can manage. 

“They took all your tubes out.”

“Well, I asked them to do that.”

“Ok, great, you’re okay.”

She tries to climb off the bed but his arms anchor her down with all his strength.

“No-“

“Let go-“

“No, just let me-“

Jab to his stomach. He coughs, curls and lets go.

She’s on her feet.

“You can’t just force your employees to cuddle with you!” She snapped, grabbing at her dress and her hair in an attempt to move it all back into place - she was immediately overstimulated by her unkempt state. 

Jungkook watched silently as she huffed and puffed and finally got her dress to sit right and her hair to neatly tuck behind her ear. 

He just watched - eyes glimmering, mouth in a mindless smile. 

“Seriously, god, what is your deal? It’s like you’re dying to get sued, and don’t think that I won’t-”

“You stayed.” 

That shuts her up. It makes her blush - it makes her go small.

No, his head screams, don’t do that - don’t go there. Stay with me, yell at me, do whatever it is you want to do to me-

“Yeah, I did.”

He looks at her, and she looks back. She’s fought it off this time - maybe for the first time - the urge to change the topic, to avoid any sign of intimacy. Any admission of partiality towards Jungkook. 

“I’m going home now.” She states to follow up her confession, but Jungkook isn’t having it. 

“Why did you stay?”

She blushes a little harder.

“I felt bad.” 

“Are you capable of that?” 

She picks up on his tone, smells something off about it. Her eyes tighten in suspicion and she lulls the question in her head as anger starts bleeding into her features. 

“What did Jimin say to you-“

“Not about Jimin,” he corrects, sharply. She huffs. “This isn’t about what Jimin said or didn’t. I’m genuinely asking - can you feel bad?” 

She hesitates. He beckons her forward, pats the empty spot on the bed by his hip. She shakes her head.

“Come on, Y/N. Just sit across from me at least.” 

That’s a fine compromise. She sits on the very end of the bed, feet dangling down, arms crossed, and body angled away from him. 

“I don’t know what you’re asking me,” she states - voice small, but she’s not disappearing. She’s ready to have somewhat of a conversation. 

“I mean, I don’t know,” Jungkook is honest, lost. “Do you feel bad or do you just think you should feel bad?”

She looks around the room, looks for an answer. Jungkook can see the frustration hit her face - that look of being stranded in a room full of people who don’t understand. Who don’t care to.

“I don’t know…”

“Then why do you say that you did?”

When she looks at him, her eyes look teary, but there are no real tears to be seen. Just a manifestation of feelings unfelt.

“Because I did. I felt bad.”

Jungkook’s heart burned a little - it really did. Watching her eyes, her desperation to make him believe.

“Alright, tell me what you felt bad about.”

“When you fell, I couldn’t catch you, and you hit your arm on the bar table.” 

Jungkook laughed. 

“You felt bad about that?” 

She smiled, turned a little more towards him. 

“Also because you broke things off with Minji.”

He raised an eyebrow, not sure how to take that. 

“When you came by my room, I felt like you expected something from me. Like I would be nice to you since you got rid of her. I felt bad that I was mean, cold. That you seemed scared to talk to me. And then you left that note…” 

She blushed a little, so did he. 

“Felt bad. Felt like you shouldn’t have broken up with her. You seemed happy like that.” 

Jungkook sighed, occupying his hands by holding them together in his lap.

“Did I? With Taehyung and stuff?”

Y/N nodded.

“With us, you always look perplexed, confused. You’re always asking questions and listening. Like you’re still working.” Jungkook was certainly listening now. 

“You seemed more at home with them. With the corporate types. They listen to you.”

Jungkook tries to recall those conversations now, but he can’t seem to. Old hookup stories - cranky female partners that he got to crack - that made him seem like a hero to Yoongi and Taehyung. Constant talk of money with Minji - we’ll buy this for the firm, expand here, get this client, forever and ever increasing revenue. 

“And Minji, god…” her eyes trailed off, interest dripping off of them. 

“What about her?” 

“She’s great. Brutal. Successful. Pretty.”

She lowers her voice a bit before admitting to the last part.

“Normal.”

Jungkook watches her, thinks about his next move with great tension settled between his brows. She sees the determination and looks away as if to let him come to himself. 

Yoongi, Taehyung, and Minji would never do that. They’d fill the silence.

But Y/N, Jimin, and Namjoon sat in the silence with him. They let him think. 

“You think that I fare better with normal?”

She looks back at him and nods, like duh. 

He just nods, thinking it over. 

“It’s been a long year, hasn’t it?” 

She nods. 

“I liked most of it.” She says, extremely casually. 

He is more than surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. 

“I don’t think I ever got along with an attorney that I went to trial with. Ever.” 

“And we got along?” he asked, laughing a little as he saw her shoulders soften. She kept turning more and more towards him until she was fully facing him, curled up on the opposite side of the bed. Jungkook had also taken to laying down, so they watched each other like that - cozy and comfy from their own corners. 

“I thought so. I mean, you didn’t fire me after.”

“Is that what happens usually?” 

She nods. 

“Yep, tell me to pack my bags after the first trial. People usually don’t appreciate having me try to sabotage them to get what I want, or berate them, or be so insubordinate… That’s what those guys were talking about at breakfast. But you let me. It was nice. I really liked that first trial.”

Jungkook had opted to lean back against the pillows, watching as she talked and talked - he had never heard her speak so much - about what she liked and didn’t like and soon enough, she had started to wake up. She sat up a little closer, so much so that her knee was touching his. 

Months of no contact had made him slightly feral because that singular point of contact made his head spin. 

“... And I think I like it when we go out. You’re all very fun to dance with.” His ears catch on that.

“Yeah, about that, I, uh, you should probably, I mean, if you were to stay - I don’t know if you were maybe thinking about, I don’t know, staying and not quitting - I just think-”

“Oh my god, get it out.” She sighed out before leaning into him, her head against his shoulder as she picked at her nails, not entirely interested now that her monologue was cut short. 

He adjusted a bit with a small, shy smile so that she could fold her a little easier into the crook of his arm. 

The cat in his lap that he’s afraid to scare off. 

“I just think that you might want to stop making out and dancing with your co-workers. With my employees.”

She looked up into his eyes, all pretty and small in his arms. 

“You included?” 

He turned red, mouth gaping like a fish as he fought for a response - something chill. Something that doesn’t sound like - you can’t touch anybody but me. 

“I mean, I just - the issue isn’t the same, y’know, it’s not like I’m gonna sue myself for hiring you, but I don’t know Jimin might-”

“You think Jimin would sue you because I danced with him?”

“No, not exactly, but I mean, we’re attorneys, we have to be smart-”

“Right,” she said, facing straight again as she tried to lift off of his chest. “I should stop.”

His arms were around her waist like a five year old dragging the neighborhood cat back into his backyard. 

“Let go,” she chuckled out, hands pushing at his. 

“Don’t.” 

She was half off the bed, and he had his arms locked around her waist. 

“Jungkook-”

“I take it back, you can dance with all of them. Keep dancing with them.” 

She started laughing, as he dragged her back into the bed, back into his arms, but this time, he managed to pull her in such a way that she just had to crawl onto his lap, legs straddling his and making his mind go dumb. 

His hands hovered in the air as he took her position in, trying to get his brain to start working but it was no use. She was on him. She was laughing at him. 

Her hands grabbed his wrists, bringing his floating hands down to hold her face, so he did, fingers splaying out and running up into her hair, lightly scratching into her scalp. 

She closed her eyes, hummed, and grinded against him. 

With a gulp, a stare, and a second grind down, he was rock hard. 

No Viagra. No uppers. 

She laughed louder, looking down at their bodies.

“I have never had a guy act like this around me, you know…”

She was still grinding down. 

Jungkook gulped, eyes locked on the way that her hips moved against him. 

“Are you sure about that….”

She nodded, eyes sleepy in pleasure.

He hummed at the sight, lips leaning forward to chase hers, but she leaned back, avoiding his advances. 

She crawled off of him, choosing to sit next to him instead, locking his legs into the blankets as she did.

“O-oh..”

“Sorry I don’t know why I did that.”

“You could have kept going.”

“No, no, you’re right. We have to stop.” 

Jungkook looks around a bit quizzically.

“I-“ he points to himself, thoughts trying to catch up. “I don’t remember saying that.” 

“Well, you said I should stop making out with people I work with.”

“Co-workers-“

“You’re a co-worker.”

“I’m your boss.” 

“Right.”

“Not the same thing.”

“Well, we co-work..”

“No, I work, and you work under me.”

“That is still coordinating our work, that’s co-working.”

He looked at her, bewildered.

“I’m going to have a seizure.”

“Don’t joke about that.” 

She was suddenly very serious. 

He smirked. 

“Why? Worried about me, pretty?” 

Y/N blushed. She had yet to hear Jungkook flirt in the daylight. 

“I’m going to go home now.”

—

Jungkook decides to close the firm for a week after that - decides that everyone needs time by themselves. Jimin sends him a hefty thank you email, letting him know that he’ll be going abroad for the first time in five years. Namjoon echoes, letting him know that he’s taking the old lady for a little trip to the beach. 

Y/N tells him that she still has to work on her cases. 

Jungkook doesn’t interpret that in any way to mean that Y/N would show up at his apartment, in a full skirt suit (stockings included), arms full of case files.

He answers the door in his boxers and an old shirt from high school. 

“Huh-”

“Move.” 

She pushes past him and straight into his living room, dumping a whole cascade of briefcases, documents, pens onto Jungkook’s coffee table. 

On top of his controller. Knocking over his ice cold glass of beer. 

She huffs out from the effort of carrying everything over before looking back at Jungkook with sheer hatred in her eyes. 

He sulks.

“What did I do now?!” He cries out as she comes up to him, grabs him by the collar of his shirt and presses him up against the closest wall.

“What gave you the right to send my secretary on vacation?!” She’s not yelling, but she’s not not yelling.

Jungkook, staring longingly at this beer, poured out onto his carpet, frowns.

“Your secretary?” He snaps his eyes back onto Y/N. “Last I checked, I sign his paycheck every week.”

“We outsource payroll.”

“You get what I’m saying.” “Yeah, you’re not getting what I’m saying. I have things that I need to do, and you sent my secretary to fucking Cambodia!”

“So, he’s in London…” Jungkook tries to correct but it’s no use.

“Out of the country! Away from me!”

Jungkook sighs, slowly peels her hands off his collar and puts his hands on her shoulders, holding her steamingly angry body at bay.

“How can I remedy the situation?” 

By being her secretary all day. Fair enough. 

The controller gets tucked away. He pours fresh glasses of beer for the both of them and orders hefty amounts of chinese takeout. 

Y/N finds it offensive and mostly eats the broccoli out of the different dishes, but it sustains her, and so does her endless consumption of his beer, through the six different filings that Y/N needed done that day. 

At some point, the shoes come off. Then, her jacket. Then the first two buttons of her loose black blouse. Her skirt constantly rides up. 

But Jungkook does it this time - manages to leash his monster behind his trappings of focused, dedicated legal work. 

Decides that this time around, he won’t be the one losing his mind. 

So, he pulls out his worst tricks - letting his boxers ride up as he leans forward in his seat to tell her something, constantly dangling a pen around his mouth, playing with it anytime she dares to look his way. He lets beer dribble down his jaw when he drinks it, blaming it always on being a klutz. 

By the third chug, he finds it a reason to take his shirt off in front of her.

She stares, mouth slightly agape and cheeks slightly flushed. He hides his smirk. 

“Sorry, I'm going to go get a clean one in a second. Just can’t stand the wet collar, and I need to finish this case or I’ll have to reread.”

Maybe he overdoes it with the explanation because her eyes narrow, but she goes back to her work, her legs splayed out underneath her as she rests on the floor with her hordes of statutes.

Then, he drinks his beer again. 

“God, I am such a mess.” he groans out, hand wiping the liquid all over his bare abdomen. She raises an eyebrow. “Embarassing really.”

Her jaw sets, he smiles the tiniest bit - almost innocently - before she suddenly stands up, walks over to his kitchen. 

He looks back to watch her rip out a paper towel from the rack and walk back over to him. 

“What are you-mhgkfok-”

With one smooth motion, she’s on his lap, and the paper towel is shoved into his open mouth. 

“Drink like a normal person,” she seethes, face close and pissed as she stares down at the mess on his chest. “I’m trying to focus on my work.”

With that, she moves to get off of him, but he doesn’t think so.

He holds onto her, keeps her where she is, and she doesn’t immediately complain. 

A small gasp lets out when she feels how hard she is, but, again, no complaints. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles while spitting out the wad of paper towel in his mouth, “can you show me how?” 

She gulps, fingers hesitating to touch his collarbones for support. 

“I don’t know what you-”

He leans over, a strong hand on the small of her back to keep her on his lap as he leans over to grab the beer. Her hands go up to his neck to hold on, pulling herself close to him. 

He leans back with the glass in his hands, holding it up to her mouth. 

“Show me.” he repeats, gaze locked onto her lips, bitten red in a matter of thirty seconds of tension. “Drink.”

She whines a little but doesn’t fight it as he forces the liquid back into her throat before chucking the glass down, bringing her lips down to his with a decisive hold on her jaw.

He drinks the beer from her mouth before slipping his tongue in, kissing her stupid. 

She lets him, moans into his mouth, grinds down with the guidance of his hands and kisses back like she means it. Like it’s her birthright.

He stands up to lay her on her back on the couch, climbs over her, and keeps kissing her, body taunt against his - feeling no shame in how hard he is, and how desperately he holds her.

How could he feel any shame when she sounds how she sounds, when she moves how she moves…..

“God, mmmpghm-“ 

The trance is broken as she struggles in his arms, suddenly desperate to break off contact.

“What…”

“Get off me!”

Jungkook is off of her and five feet away from the couch immediately. He stares at her eyes wide, heart pounding, sheer panic - did he do something wrong?? Did he misread the situation??

She grumbles to herself as she straightens out her clothes, appearing more annoyed than anything.

“Is everything ok?” He asks, slow and gentle, all the while taking another step back, mind rattling on how he could reclothe himself without moving around too much and startling her. 

“No, god, we did it again.” She grunted, sheer frustration in her voice. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Your shirt is not going to get less wrinkled, stop pulling at it.” 

His voice is curt, his hands are on his hips, he’s also annoyed.

“I thought I was assaulting you there for a second - can you gauge your reactions a bit?? You’re going to give me a panic attack.”

Her eyes lit up because god forbid that he gets an attitude for once.

“Oh, excuse me, boss, just trying to keep your business afloat and scandal free. We can’t keep doing this! It doesn’t work - I can’t have you freaking out like you did last time just because I told you that it means nothing that I let you sleep under my roof instead of on the street given that you supply me with paychecks and occasional orgasms, but nevermind on the orgasm part because, yes, that’s the point I was trying to make - we have to stop having fun! It’s bad for business!”

Jungkook stares, speechless. 

“What?!”

“Y/N, you need to take the week off. Seriously.” 

—-

Y/N does take the week off, emails him Tuesday afternoon letting him know that she’s officially logging off and joining the firmwide holiday. 

Jimin sends him a voice note from some European club after that: “Don’t know what you did but she stopped calling and texting! I can breathe now, thanks!”

Jungkook was happy. Pleased with himself. Angry with her, but happy with himself for standing his ground. 

Until he gets a text from Namjoon: “Hey, heads up buddy - don’t know what you did but she asked me for Taehyung’s number.” 

Jungkook calls him in a panic - in absolute, sheer panic.

“Calling while I’m on vacation… What is this, slavery?”

“Namjoon, I don’t have time for jokes - what do you mean she asked for Taehyung’s number?”

“Well, she texted and said she was going out tonight and asked me if I still had Taehyung’s number. And I feel like that can only mean so many things…”

“Did you give it to her!?”

“Well, yeah, I had it…”

“I’m going to kill you. You’re fired and I’m going to kill you.”

“Ok, I’ll see you at the office on Monday. Godspeed.”

Jungkook is at Y/N’s apartment faster than he’s been anywhere ever. 

He looks insane when she opens the door - he’s all geared up for his sunset run, which he was so looking forward to - and she’s dressed like a fucking sex goddess.

“Uh…” Y/N’s struggling to hide her surprise as she stands in the doorway in a sheer white dress, short and collared, but thin, and her risque lingerie is not hard to identify underneath the cloth which hugs her so right. He loses himself in it almost immediately, forgetting his words, his thoughts…

“Sir?” 

That’s until Taehyung’s annoying voice chimes in from her cream leather couch, head popping up from behind Y/N as he stares at Jungkook with absolute confusion in his eyes. 

“Taehyung!” Jungkook exclaims, friendly and upbeat as he shoves Y/N aside a bit to walk in, ignoring her offended little ‘pfft’ as he walks past her. “How have you been!”

The man continues to stare up at him with confusion and questions as Jungkook comes up to him, strong and fast and lifts him up to his feet and into a huge hug, landing loud pats to his back. 

“Uh, good?” Taehyung responds, awkwardly patting him back when Jungkook pulls back, a hand remaining on the other man’s nape as he flashes a big wide smile at him. 

“Good, that’s great to hear.” He praises, landing a too harsh slap on his nape that’s supposed to be friendly, but Taehyung is starting to get the message. 

His eyes go dark just then, smile drops, and Taehyung gulps at the animalistic shift. 

“Now, leave.” 

Taehyung lets out a nervous laugh, stealing a glance over at Y/N, who just shrugs at him, slightly amused by the whole spectacle. 

“Sorry, uh, what?” He asks, laugh still on his tongue as if to coax something similar out of Jungkook, but it’s worthless - Jungkook’s murderous expression doesn’t let up. 

“I said leave. Was I not being clear?” 

Taehyung shifts a bit - not sure if the fight is worth it, but he’s not so sure it isn’t. He’d been dying to sleep with Y/N, but that metaphor seemed to become a reality before his eyes. 

“It’s just - you didn’t invite me here, and it’s not your house, so…” Taehyung tries to explain, eyes flashing a friendly attempt to get Jungkook to let up. 

Jungkook turns to Y/N. 

“Well?” he asks, but Y/N can’t really hide her amusement anymore. She shrugs again, sips the wine glass that she had picked up at some point.

Taehyung stares at her, a little bewildered before meeting Jungkook’s gaze, which has only gone more psychotic since seeing how far Y/N’s dress rode up when she crossed her legs on the couch. 

“Ok, I’m leaving!” Taehyung gives in, snatching his jacket from the couch and gunning it for the door at once. “Fucking freaks…”

Once the door slams shut, Jungkook stands there, in his 5-inch seam neon orange shorts and neon green running tank, as if he’s the king of the jungle. 

Y/N lets out a snort, tries to cover it with a hand to her mouth, but the laugh and amusement are plastered onto her face.

She’s loving this. 

“How did you know he was here?” she asked, a giggle still rolling around in her mouth. 

Jungkook was not laughing. Jungkook was so incredibly straight faced as he walked straight up to her, crouched down, and got on his knees.

Fully on his knees.

He stared up into her eyes, beautifully done with a light shimmer on her lids, glimmering between her thick, long lashes. She stared back, conniving and pleased, lifting the wine glass to her lips as Jungkook clasped his hands together, bowed his head and begged. 

“Y/N,” he started, lips quivering at the holy mention of her name, “Please, please just let me fuck you.” 

She snorted again, hand coming up to cover her mouth as she fought the laughs climbing up her throat.

“Jungkook…”

“Please, please, please just let me fuck you. Just once, or forever, however long you want, whenever you want, and in whatever position you want. Anything, Y/N, I’ll do anything, just please stop fucking other people and just let me fuck you.” 

Her laugh dimmed a bit. Her eyes started to widen at the weight of his words, twitching slightly at the ‘stop fucking other people’ bit.

“You’re doing it again, Jungkook,” she chastised, jaw slightly set. “You’re trying to get serious again.”

But he shook his head, over and over again. 

“No, no, not serious. This is so not serious, I am making the least serious offer I can possibly make to you, please - just hear me out.”

His hands were clutching at her knees now, eyes chasing her avoidant gaze, but she was listening, so he continued. 

“I’m not asking for anything serious. J-just use me. No one else. ME.” 

She recoiled, eyes suspicious.

“And what do you get out of this?”

He knew what he wanted, but his eyes flashed absolute desperation as he thought about how to break it to her. How to convince her. 

“Well,” he started, his mouth going dry and his grip on her thighs inching up the slightest bit. “One thing. Other than getting to fuck you. Just one additional thing.”

She stayed silent. He felt like he was going to pass out. 

“I will be there - morning, day, night - whatever you need, whatever you want. Whatever you don’t want - kick me out, I don’t care, I’ll listen to your every word, and you just…”

She nodded like get-to-it.

“You tell people that I’m your boyfriend. That you’re mine. That you’re taken.”

Each sentence stamped a look of immense disapproval from Y/N. Just the word alone - boyfriend - made a shiver go through her. 

She immediately shook her head, pushed his hands off, tried to stand, but his desperation wouldn’t let her move. He pushed back, hands on her waist as he forced her back on the couch despite the little protests falling from her lips, pinning her body down under his. 

She twisted her head around, whining and trying to avoid looking at him but he caressed both sides of her face, soft, lovingly, until she stopped and met his gaze - looked to his mouth for answers, for an explanation. 

“Just hear me out, okay?” He begged, eyes going a little glassy in frustration. 

She nodded, curtly. He gulped a bit before proceeding.

“I won’t actually be your boyfriend, okay? Nothing serious - you’re free. You can do whatever you want. This, whatever is going on between us, means nothing. Absolutely nothing.” 

She seemed to calm down, but her lips parted in protest again. He beat her to it.

“But, just to make it easier for everyone else to understand, we tell them that I’m your boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be nice? Then, no one would bother us. No one would bother you.”

She was thinking about it, brows furrowed, still suspicious - why wouldn’t she be? He was doing an awful job selling his promises.

“Jimin would. Jimin would bother me so much if he heard that.” She argued back, fingers absentmindedly picking at the strap of his shirt. 

“No, no, he’d bother you everyday if you didn’t tell him that I’m your boyfriend. He’d ask all the time about what we are and what we’re doing, and so would everyone else. But you could shut them up.”

“By just saying you’re my boyfriend?” She asked, eyebrows tilted in disbelief.

He nodded. Nodded profusely before pecking the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then just below her jaw, as he reassured her:

“Yeah, so when Jimin asks what in the hell we’re doing, you just say…”

“Jungkook is my boyfriend.” 

His hips stuttered at that, and a whiny moan broke off of his throat. Y/N laughed breathlessly at this reaction, her own throat constricting back a series of moans at the feeling of his hard cock pressed against her again. 

“Uhhuh, and then no one will say anything.” He kept reassuring her as his hands got to pushing that dress up, vibrating with excitement as his hands touched her bare thighs, then her hips, and held her flush there. 

“But you mean it, right?” she asked, and he was too busy kissing down her neck to see the fear and worry swimming in her eyes. “T-that this isn’t serious? That you don’t expect anything else?” 

He hummed, pulled the collar of the dress down to peck at the start of the hill of her cleavage, his teeth coming out to rake down a small bite before moving off to her sternum, still pulling at her dress.

“J-Jungkook, I mean it, I don’t want a relationship, I can’t do -”

“I don’t want one either,” he insisted, finally capturing her lips and it was like a firework went off in his head.

Hot, everything was hot and sparkling when he kissed her. His hands were in her hair, pulling, then off to her waist, dragging her hips to meet his, then on her jaw, tilting it up to expose it to his bites. 

She was breathless in moments, her body heating up underneath him as he continued his assault, and there they were again - just drunk off of each other. 

“I just want-” he said, mouth against her teeth as her hands pulled at the stupid tank he had on. “I just want you.” 

She moaned, a bit of worry embedded into the sound, as she managed to push him onto his back, climb on top of him. 

She sat directly on his cock, and he tried to sit up to cradle her, to kiss her again, but she shoved him down, and held him down, with a strong hand wrapped around his throat.

She squeezed.

“Behave,” she seethed, rotating her hips a bit, and making him throw his head back with a delicious moan. She hummed in return, kept her hips going. “Hmm, it’s nice seeing you so pliant.”

“A-Anything,” he choked out, eyes closed, hips stuttering - he was pretty sure that he was going to cream his pants if she kept this up. “Anything you want - do whatever you want to me.”

She moaned, kissed him for a few seconds - wet and messy - before pulling back to look down at him again. 

“So, I just get to use you whenever I want,” she repeated, hips slowing but continuing their torture. 

“Whenever,” he repeated, absolutely out of his mind. 

“And I have to tell them that you’re my boyfriend?” 

He moaned again at the word, heart skipping a beat in panic because he was giving his little charade away every time he acted like that at the mention of it.

“R-right, s-so, when someone comes up to annoy-aH - Y/N - uh, annoy you at the bar-“

“I say, I have a boyfriend.”

Her hand squeezed again around his throat, and her hips adjusted to fall right onto his thigh, letting him feel the soft silky fabric of her underwear.

And how wet she was. 

The sound he let out was borderline offensive, but he didn’t care one bit as she kissed him, her heat still flush against the skin of his thigh.

“I like that.”

The words left her lips like a waterfall. 

He wasn’t sure how he didn’t get a seizure. 

“I’m dating Jeon Jungkook,” she said, directly into his ear, a giggle tangled into her words.

She let go of her literal chokehold on him and Jungkook cherished unrestrained airflow as she tried to climb off of him, but he squeezed her hips, kept her close, and let out a low pitched whine at the thought of losing contact.

That noise seemed to cement her into place.

“It won’t work, ya know…” She teetered, rescinding some of her acceptance of the offer as her hips kept grinding against him. 

“Y/N..” he mindlessly moaned, head on the brink of absolute explosion. Her dress had bunched at her hips and his hands were digging harder and harder into the bare flesh. 

“You’ll get mad at something… get clingy… It won’t work…”

He dared to look at her - took the chance of cumming spontaneously upon seeing her - and melted at the sight of her - flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, lips agape - she looked ethereal. 

But conflict was etched all over her face. She had no idea what she was doing. 

“S-Stop,” he stammered, mentally fighting absolute demons as he stilled the torturous movement of her hips and sat up against the couch, balancing her on his lap. 

She rested her hands on his collarbones, but her eyes refused to meet his. That’s fine. He had gotten used to that. He let her stare at her hands as her nails tapped against his collarbone while he spoke, in the softest voice he could manage.

“Let’s just try,” he said, following it with a soft hum of approval, giving her waist a squeeze before wrapping his arms around, locking her into place when he felt the slightest bit of movement from her. 

“It’s hot…” she complained, voice weak as she pushed against him, trying to get space. She had actually started to perspire the lightest bit around her hairline - he could feel it, too, her body warming up slightly. 

Without even thinking of it, he nuzzled his nose into her baby hair, indulging in the scent of her, but she immediately twisted in his hold, tried to get away. 

“It tickles - Jungkook, stop!” She screeched, trying to shove a laugh down as she did her best to seem assertive, but he had gone off to peppering kisses all over her face, joining in on her (repressed laughs). 

“Come on, Y/N, just make me your fake boyfriend,” He kept pestering, finding joy in his own annoying tactics. 

Y/N swatted at him and finally managed to release her laughs when he tackled her back against the couch, fingers tickling down her side.

“You laugh so pretty,” he praised, a bit breathless as he stilled his fingers.

She kept laughing.

“You look ridiculous.” 

He knew he did - his hair was poofed up, his little shorts had ridden up as high as they could, and his tank was stretched to smithereens.

He didn’t care. He was all laughs and joy and he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

“When was the last time you laughed like that?”

He asked, ditching his tank and shorts and hopping back down onto the couch, ready to drag Y/n back into his lap so they can make out and fuck around like teenagers in heat.

But she’s stalled. 

Sitting up with her knees bent, she seems a little out of it for a second - a smile still lingers on her lips, but there is something else behind it.

“Y/N?”

“Eunwoo.”

His heart shrivels a bit.

“Uh - what?”

“Eunwoo. That’s the last time I laughed like that.” 

Utter silence - only the sound of her fridge to fill their void.

Jungkook feels the ghost in the room, but Y/n sees it. Her smile slowly disappears. Her hands try to inconspicuously adjust her dress back down, fix its collar. 

“Sorry…” 

Because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

Y/N’s eyes flitter up from the hole they’ve been burning on the couch. She looks scared as ever. 

Jungkook almost anticipates it - that she’s going to ask him for something. Another rare moment. 

“So, you’ll do whatever I ask?” 

Jungkook blinks a bit at the shift in tone. 

He nods, a bit too enthusiastically for her liking - she basically flinches. 

“Sorry, yes, yeah I would-”

“Like… if I said I want you to stay until I fall asleep, and then leave…”

He gulped, his palms clammed up immediately.

“Yes! Yeah, I mean, sure, if you asked, like I wouldn’t mind-”

“Ok. Let’s go to bed.”

He didn’t ask any questions. Just let her take his hand and drag him to the bathroom - they showered together, toweled each other’s hair, he did Y/N’s skincare routine as she lectured him about all of the different ingredients. 

It was an intimacy he hadn’t quite felt before. Living with Minji was banging on the bathroom door, second guessing his every move, and wishing for her to just leave him alone for one goddamn second…

But with Y/N, he felt like a kid in a candy shop. Every domesticated thing she forced him through, he absolutely ate it up. He wanted to shower together, wanted to know her skincare routine, and the story behind all of the books on her shelf.

“What about this one?” He asked, face all smiles as he pulled out a special bound version of Gulliver’s Tales and showed it to Y/N as she laid on her bed in her little silk slip. 

“Eighth grade scholastic fare. I really like it. Taught me about sarcasm.”

“Oh, did it,” he teased, throwing the book off into the big pile he had made on her floor, and sauntering over to her with arms outstretched, scooping her up in them the second he joined her on the bed.

She squealed in his hold as he rolled her over to lay on top of him, lips easily finding hers in the mess of limbs.

He held onto her arms, outstretched awkwardly as they found their place, and her legs slid against his and soon enough he was half up and she was hovering over him, lips locked and kissing like teenagers again. 

And true to his word, he did just as she asked. 

He curled her up into his chest once they were bruised and tired from kissing and softly rubbed her back until she started snoring. 

But he couldn’t leave.

He identified the problem once he heard the snores - her hands were wound into her shirt, she had opted to use his body as a pillow, and their legs were all intertwined.

He had no idea how to get her off without waking her up. 

He tried, finger by finger, and at first was met with a stir or two, but then it was quickly followed by tugs and yanks and sleepy whines until he had no choice but to stay. 

And it’s not like he was going to complain. The dozing effect she had on him was intense, and after five minutes of contemplating how badly she was going to beat his ass in the morning, he was off to dreamland.

[maladaptivejeon]

𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 (𝕡𝕥. 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟)

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

summary: lawyer!au where burned out attorney Jeon Jungkook starts his own barely-functioning firm and accidentally hires an even bigger problem themes: oh brother, fastest slow burn imaginable; unhinged workplace dynamics; “what is wrong with you” x “no seriously, what is wrong with you” energy; chaotic coworker ensemble; blurred professional/personal boundaries; power imbalances; questionable coping mechanisms; dark humor; emotional repression series warnings: mdni! explicit content, workplace power dynamics, toxic coping mechanisms, degradation/humiliation themes, dom/sub undertones, restraint/bondage (handcuffs etc), threesome-ish situations, feetplay, s*xual tension tied to control/instability, messy consent-adjacent dynamics, s*bstance use, dark themes intertwined with s*xual content wc: ~9k (chapter total)/~97k (series total) a/n: FINAL PART! didn't proofread super well, apologies for any typos (tg: @mikrokookiex @prxdajeon @bjoriis @somehowukook)

Outside of the bar, where there is still a line wrapped around the block, Jungkook feels his soul drain of any and all meaning.

He could not have had a worse night. 

And with Namjoon’s hands at his collar, pushing him against the wall in front of the line of attractive 20-something waiting entry, he really feels that belief cement. This might be one of the worst nights of his life. 

“How in the hell am I going to to go home to my wife-”

“Namjoon, you’re not married-”

“-At this hour of the night!? She’s going to genuinely hang me BY MY BALLS-”

“Namjoon, just sleep at mine, Jesus!” 

The offer is quickly but begrudgingly accepted. Namjoon glares at him the entire ride over.  Jungkook is a bit grateful for the company, but it does nothing to appease his melancholy.

He couldn’t possibly feel more used than he already did. The past two weeks played before his eyes like a prank. One big joke. He was the punchline. He rethinks every smile, every laugh from her - she was playing straight in his face.

She knew. She knew that she couldn’t do it. She knew from the beginning that she wanted nothing to do with his stupid little proposal, and yet, she pretended like she did, no problem. She got what she wanted, used him, and made a fool of him in front of everyone - in front of her, Jimin, and Namjoon. Even Yoongi and Taehyung. 

Namjoon basically drags him into the elevator, drags him through the threshold and into his cold, god forsaken apartments. 

He doesn’t want to go anywhere. He doesn’t want to stay here. 

His apartment feels strange to him now - an abandoned corpse of what he had with Minji and an awful reminder of how hard he tried to crawl out of that god forsaken hole for the last six years.

And yet, here he was. Where he started. An empty-ish apartment, a sunken head, and a broken heart.

Betrayal, deep in his bones. 

He can’t find it in himself to die tonight - he’s not entirely sure if he wants to. 

But at the very least, he can go to bed, knock out from the exhaustion of the night, and pretend for those mere hours that none of this happened.

He can wait until he’s awake to process the pain, the torture, and plan the next step.

What could possibly be next after this? 

Maybe he should give up law all together, shut down the firm. Maybe he should join a monastery. Maybe he should travel.

“Uh… should I look for another job?” 

“Jesus!” Jungkook screams and jumps - suddenly snapping out of his zombie-like trance - to find Namjoon standing in his kitchen. 

He had entirely forgotten that he had followed him home. 

He also hadn’t realized that he’d been thinking out loud. 

“Look, boss,” Namjoon started, walking over with two mugs of something piping hot. When he set it down on Jungkook’s coffee table, he realized it was hot chocolate.

How did he find the hot chocolate packets so fast…

“I know you’re going through a lot - adjusting to this new life and all with the firm. And I know that Y/N is probably not helping, but do you think that you’re maybe taking things too seriously?”

Jungkook stared at him, already housing the hot mug in his hands, gently blowing away the steam so he could start chugging the sweet liquid already. 

“Elaborate.” He answered, and Namjoon did.

“You know, I don’t know if we’ve ever shared this chapter of the handbook,” He said, bravely chugging his own cocoa, baring the light burn on his tongue with a pleased hiss. Jungkook hated how contemplative he looked. “But Y/N has this one grand, big philosophy in her life. It’s the one thing that Jimin and Y/N don’t agree on. Everything else, he just follows along with. I do, too. But this one thing - Y/N’s alone in it.”

Jungkook’s hanging off the edge of his seat, doing his best not to give it away. He tries to hold onto his anger, to his betrayal, because those feel like easier emotions to explore than where Namjoon may be taking him.

“Let it be.”

Huh?

“Huh?” 

Namjoon smiles, chugs more of his cocoa. Jungkook feels brave enough to sip his.

“Let it be.” He repeats, and Jungkook’s puzzled look does nothing to waver. Namjoon tries to elaborate: “Things are, and will always be, the way that they are. Accept it - don’t fight against the current. Learn the current, respect the current, and release yourself to it. Don’t try to hold on to what wants to leave.”

Jungkook drinks his cocoa, tries to delve back into his depression. But instead, his brain has taken him to his proposal, his arrangement with Y/N - how can he mend it, how can he tweak it to fit this new nugget of information about his Pandora. His relentless Athena - ever wise, ever independent.

“What does Jimin think about that?”

Namjoon shakes his head.

“That’s not what’s important,” Namjoon says. “This isn’t about him or Y/N. I just think you’d benefit from a little bit of that mindset. I know I have. That elusive law degree, the ring I can’t afford for my girlfriend, the Shining Charizard I’m never going to pull from those mystery card packs… Let it be. It’ll all find me if it’s meant to.”

Jungkook puts down the cocoa - it suddenly tastes bitter.

“I can’t be like that,” Jungkook admits, exasperated. His eyes appear younger, and Namjoon’s kind smile is a sweet recognition of his weakness in this moment. “I have never been like that. I have always fought, cried, demanded - I got what I want, kicking and screaming.”

Namjoon laughs at him, shakes his head again.

“There’s gotta be something, Boss,” he says, “Something that you lost while you were kicking and screaming. There can’t be that much to gain from that.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh.

He lost everything while he was kicking and screaming - his sanity, his health, his youth, his morality, his reputation, his soul.

He fought and kicked all this way, and it was now - drinking hot cocoa with a 30-something year old paralegal in his condo at 3 am - that he realized that everything he loved simply found him.

That everything good was free. Everything good was handed to him on a silver platter.

His warm-hearted mother, his understanding and loving father, his propensity to play devil’s advocate, annoying everyone around him, friends like Namjoon, friends like Jimin, and a girl like Y/N… all fell into his lap without him ever summoning it forward.

“I think I’ll go home, now,” Namjoon’s voice breaks the deliberation. “I miss my girlfriend. I don’t care if she kills me.”

Jungkook pats him on the back. 

“Get out of my house, Namjoon.”

Namjoon is quick to. He gets up, hugs Jungkook for a second longer than Jungkook really needs him to, and heads to the door. 

But with his hand on the handle, exchanging a warm and polite goodbye with Jungkook, his plans are thwarted.

Jungkook’s key code sounds, the door twists, and opens all on its own.

Y/N stands on the other side, in the same outfit from the bar, holding a grocery bag of unidentifiable goods.

Namjoon - understandably - screams and attempts to jump into Jungkook’s arms.

Jungkook holds him above the floor, barely noting the weight of the man as he stares at Y/N with an agape mouth. 

I mean, sure, let it be, but Jungkook had no idea that it would work this fast.

“Do I look that scary?” Y/N asks, glaring Namjoon down, who shakes his head and jumps out of Jungkook’s arms, dusts himself off.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys, I have to go.”

Namjoon tries to cut past Y/N with that little quippy mantra, but Jungkook has a hand on his collar quicker than he can make his escape, pulling him back into the apartment to stand by his side. 

Guard dog style.

“Okay, I guess not,” he quips, but his words are immediately swept up and forgotten in their back and forth. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Why did you take Namjoon home with you?” 

“What are you doing here?”

Namjoon glances between the two, tries to take a step into the doorway again, but Jungkook yanks him back.

“Okay…” he tries to conjure up some excuse, justification to escape the room, but absolutely no one is listening to him. 

“I’m here to apologize.” Y/N says, tossing the bag of groceries on his coffee table and taking a seat on his couch. 

Jungkook sits in his armchair, and Namjoon thinks it’s the perfect opportunity to turn around and head for the door until…

“Namjoon, sit down.” 

Jungkook’s voice is too tight and too low for him to ignore. Regrettably, with a cautious eye on the 3:00 am flashing on the oven, he sits down in the middle of them, on the coffee table where a bunch of discarded junk food lies. 

“What is this…” he starts to ask, but Jungkook beats him to it.

“You brought me snacks? At this hour? After making out with Jimin in front of me?”

Y/N shrugs, a bit delirious.

“I don’t know, figured you wouldn’t have food after squatting in my home for almost a month-”

“It was one week and I don’t even like any of this!”

“I just picked the most calorically dense, nutritionally deficient foods. That seems to be your palette for the most part-”

“Oh my god, did you come all the way here to insult me??”

“No, I already told you that I came here to apologize.”

“This is not how people apologize. I mean, I hate oreos. Why would you get oreos? I have told you specifically that I hate oreos.”

“I wasn’t listening, obviously.” 

“Why do I have to sit here!?!” Namjoon’s booming, tired, exhausted voice snaps them out of their spat. “Why am I being held hostage?!”

“We need a mediator!” Jungkook matched his volume and the man easily cowered, nodded. Seemed to understand the necessity. 

There was clearly a communication issue here.

“Okay, I will mediate for…” Namjoon takes another look at the oven clock - 3:03 am. “Thirty minutes. You get me for thirty minutes, and that’s it. After that, I am going to go home and get my ass beat by my wife.”

“You’re not married.” Y/N and Jungkook parrot in unison and Namjoon shoots the glariest glare he can manage at them.

“Enough.” He calls out, moving around on the coffee table to situate directly in between them. They both straighten up a little bit. “Okay, let’s start from the beginning. What the hell is going on between you two? How did we get here?”

“Jungkook was being a pervert-”

“Y/N sexually harassed me after hours-”

“One at a time!” Namjoon’s voice bellowed, his hands then dug into his hair, pulling a little to ease his headache. “Please, just, one at a time.”

“We made out in the office on Eunwoo’s death anniversary.” Y/N offers, and Jungkook warily nods, arms crossing across his chest as he puts his attorney hat on. 

Pissed attorney hat.

“... And then Jungkook forced me to suck him off at that company outing.”

“Forced?? Might I remind you of the months long blowjob assault that I had to deal with??”

“Deal with? Oh my god, you were begging for it-”

“I could say the same about you in that bathroom.”

Namjoon is staring at the ceiling, praying to his god, and picturing his lovely, sleepy girlfriend in bed. Maybe with a knife in hand.

“Guys, please, a little bit of decorum,” he pleads, but they’re still at it.

“Admit it, Jungkook, this started off as a sex thing, and you were an absolute freak about it, and now you’re mad at me for something that we both did. We both made this a transactional sex thing.”

Jungkook shakes his head, refuses to yield.

“No, no - I always had the right intentions. On the day with the flowers, I wanted to comfort you. On that company outing, I wanted to practically marry you. I took things as slow as I could while you pushed me out of my comfort zone every time. I was serious. You were using me.”

“Using you?? And for what? What exactly was I getting out of the equation? You won’t even have sex with me!”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide and his hand subconsciously covers his mouth as his eyes dance between the two lawyers. Now that was a surprise.

“You guys haven’t had sex yet??” He exclaims, unable to contain his shock. “Well, I think we figured out the problem.”

“Namjoon, you’re not supposed to take sides,” Jungkook chastises. “You’re supposed to be neutral.”

“I’m supposed to help you resolve the conflict. I think the conflict is that you guys haven’t had sex. Boom. I’m going home now.”

“No!” 

“No!” 

Y/N and Jungkook grab him by either arm and immediately drag him down to sit his ass back  down on the coffee table. 

“You said thirty minutes,” Y/N reminds him.

“We still have 27 minutes left.”

Namjoon wants to cry.

“Okay, FINE! Fine. Next question, what happened after the hospital? Y/N, why did you stay at the firm? Why didn’t you quit?”

For the first time all night, Namjoon enjoys a heavy bout of silence.

After the loud ass bar, the screechy co-workers and ex-coworkers, he has finally achieved a momentary respite of silence. He breathes in it as Y/N and Jungkook stare at each other - Y/N’s eyes shy about the answer to the question, and Jungkook’s gushing with hope and desperation.

He thinks her next words might make or break him.

“I-I don’t know,” she admits, hands suddenly clutching at one another nervously in her lap, her gaze fluttering down to stare at them as opposed to the two men in the room. She feels watched. “I really don’t.”

Namjoon smiles, soft. Jungkook’s gaze hardens, his jaw clicks.

“Oh, come off it, Y/N. You’ve got to be joking.”

Y/N’s gaze snaps back up, her gaze narrows.

“Be careful, Jungkook-”

“No, no, I’ll tell you why you stayed - because I begged. Because I made a fool of myself in front of you, and you thought that that was entertaining enough to justify wasting my time for just a little longer before pulling out the rug from underneath me.”

“Jungkook, seriously-”

“No, I refuse to let you lie anymore!” He laughs, exasperated, his hands hang in the air as if to frame his words, as if to declare them to the universe to show off his genius, his sheer clairvoyance of the situation and of Y/N’s feelings. 

Y/N glares, she has that look again - I-want-to-be-seen…

“You thought I was a joke, you thought it would be fun, so you stuck around to torture me and to use me until you got bored, and you knew that you were going to get bored. Your mom’s birthday, your dad’s death, Jimin’s whim - whatever it was, you were going to find an excuse, break my heart, break the rules, and ruin everything. You ruined everything.”

Her eyes shift, encompassing that whole feeling that she did back in that hotel room.

…why-won’t-you-see-me?

She looks lonelier in an instant, detached from the men in front of her. Jungkook is aware that he’s lost her - pushed it too far and now she has to stop caring to shield herself from the hurt.

But he still can’t see her as the victim. Even in her mental retreat, he feels the battle lost because… is he not worth the pain? Is he not worth the momentary confrontation? Is he not worth the single attempt to prove her love?

If it’s going to be like this forever - with his heart on the line, and hers always back at shore where it’s safe - then he didn’t want it.

He didn’t want anything to do with her.

Namjoon doesn’t register these feelings, doesn’t see the nuance in their eyes, the struggle in Y/N’s. He’s simply sedated by how quiet they’ve gotten - how their explosiveness has subsided. He wants to stand again, but fears that that would be a fuse to just restart the whole fight over again.

He wants to see the embers burn out before attempting an escape.

Jungkook, however, is over it. Doesn’t seem to appreciate how volatile the scene is. He shakes his head, scoffs, feels his heart drain of everything it was filled with in the last year, so he moves to stand. He gets ready to kick both of them out of his apartment.

But Y/N, to everyone’s shock, doesn’t let him.

Her hand grabs his, nails digging in. Jungkook winces, opens his mouth to complain, but before he can do that, Y/N lands a solid shove against Namjoon’s chest, sending him flying off the coffee table and onto the ground, and the coffee table back a couple of feet, making enough room for herself to…

Kneel on the ground. On her knees. In front of Jungkook.

His eyes immediately go wide, his cheeks redden, and his eyes swim with confusion. 

Suddenly, it all rushes back - a new vitality, a new curiosity.

What in the world..

“Jeon Jungkook,” she coldly declares, glaring up into his eyes. He tries hard to decipher what emotion she’s staring at him with - can’t seem to recognize it. 

Namjoon sits up on the floor, panickedly looks between them. He’s almost positive that Y/N is going to attempt some crazy, heart-out-of-chest-cavity karate move and kill Jungkook then and there for being the only man to ever reject her. 

Instead, she speaks. Softer than either man could have imagined. 

“I want you to stop fucking other people.”

Jungkook blinks, hand to heart as his face grows warm. She’s still glaring at him as she speaks - nothing about her delivery mimics Jungkook’s from when he gave her the same speech. No, she sounds angry.

“I don’t want to see what I saw tonight ever again. I never want you to touch another girl, ever.”

Jungkook and Namjoon wear the same aghast expression. 

She elaborates, keeps going. “I want you to tell people that I’m your girlfriend. That you’re mine.”

Nothing that he does after that point is thought out. No, it’s all instinct and muscle memory and animal drive as he leans down, kisses her, raises her to her feet with a strong arm wrapped around her waist and another gently holding her face, but she’s hungry and needy and immediately all over him - arms around his neck, hands in his hair.

Namjoon is quick to scramble to his feet.

“O-Okay, I guess that’s my cue to leave?” He asks, carefully collecting his phone and wallet off the coffee table from between their bodies. His wrist barely manages to escape as Jungkook picks Y/N up, wraps her legs around his waist and lays her down on that coffee table, no care for how much weight it can bear. “I’ll just lock the door behind me.”

No one acknowledges him when he finally slips out, not before taking one last impressed look at the couple, nodding a bit in approval, and heading out into the dusk, finally free from his shackles.

In the apartment, the air immediately grows warmer and heavier, and Jungkook moves Y/N to the couch, laughing into her mouth as she squeals at how he’s manhandling her, moving her around as he pleases.

He pulls away for a second, smiles down at her as she stares up at him, her pointer finger tugging at his bottom lip with interest, as if she missed every inch of his face in the last some hours that they spent apart.

“Say it again.” He demands, but his voice is weak - he can’t put up a front right now. He can’t be scary Jungkook - he’s all soft inside. 

“What?” She blinks, not quite used to such a gentle tone, such a soft ask, in the middle of a moment as heated as this. 

“Tell me that I’m yours.”

She hesitates, he smells a complaint brewing on her tongue, but for some reason she swallows it down, blushes and says: 

“You’re mine-”

He kisses her again, sits up against the couch with her in his lap. His chest blossoms immediately with everything that he was craving since yesterday - warmth, safety, assurance.

And his apartment feels more like home than it ever did.

He wants someone to take a picture of this.

But her hands are on his shirt, grabbing and pulling until he gets the hint and tries to focus on the immediacy of her needs. 

He pulls back and peels the shirt off, quickly reconnecting their lips as if some horrible calamity would find them if they stopped touching. 

They kiss like that, forever. The sun rises early, the birds chirp, and their stomachs growl, but Jungkook can’t stop kissing Y/N. 

He lays her back against the couch, lays his entire weight on her, enjoys the way her body sinks into the cushion beneath him, the way her hips mold so easily into his. 

He loves how easy it is to get hard for her. He makes her repeat the words over and over. She appeases him - at times with a glare - says whatever he asks her to say.

Then, she has the nerve to ask.

“Can you fuck me now?” She asks, hands still tugging at his shirt as he stares down at her, drenched in love. 

He nods, slow and easy - the excitement drained out of him. He feels no rush, just a deep seeded desire that he knows will take too long to subside.

He’ll take his time, calmly, all day, and fuck his girlfriend. 

“Yeah, I think I deserve it, but…”

She whines, eyes growing needy and annoyed almost immediately. He smiles. 

“... I can’t be like before. Not right now.”

Her brows furrow, her head tilts to the side a bit as her fingers drum against the nape of his neck.

“What do you mean?” Her teeth dig into her bottom lip and he swallows dryly - fully, literally thirsting for her.

“I can’t be rough. Can’t be mean. We’re going to do this my way, even if it’s just this once, okay?”

She stares, processes the offer. He speaks again, a bit nervous because he’s not sure if she’ll even remotely enjoy his vanilla tendencies.

“A-And maybe you’ll like it? Maybe you’ll prefer it-”

She kisses him, nods into the kiss and his lips open into a moan, brows furrowing when he notices how she softens so easily.

As if on demand, as if she was made for it, she turns shy and soft in his arms. 

His brain doesn’t think once about how it’s in her nature - to manipulate and fit any mold she wants to get what she wants. He doesn’t once lament how she was capable of this gentle touch before but simply refused to give it to him.

No, he doesn’t think of that because all he can think about is the fact that she’s giving it to him now - this softer, gentler side. That she feels safe enough to do it, that she wants to do it. Knows she wouldn’t give it to him otherwise, so why would he ever think about anything else?  

“Good girl,” he praises with a quick split of her lips. “My girl.”

She moans again, it’s an endless song to him. His fingers tighten around her hips, and his member grows prominent against her. His own lips emit a groan of their own, and it makes her scratch her nails into his hair. 

He bucks into her - slow and intentional. Pulls away to watch her stretch her head back slightly, close her eyes. 

His eyes stay on her face the best they can as his lips find her jaw, kiss right where it meets her ear, drawing a slight shiver through her and making her open her eyes lazily to meet his.

“I’m a bit scared,” she whispers as he pulls away a good bit to admire her features. She looks so young in this early morning light, her hair looks so carefree and soft around her. 

He brushes a short strand out of her eyes, and uses that as an excuse to start stroking her hair. She doesn’t oppose, her eyes flutter shut, and she hums as the sunlight washes over her after a generous shift of the clouds.

“Of what, Y/N?” 

She hums when she hears her name and opens her eyes once again, her gaze growing sultrier and sultrier. 

He likes her best like this - sleepy, sedated, in love.

He smiles, lets the word sit in his chest.

“Of that look,” she says, finger coming up to trace his lips, the bright curve of that smile. “I’m scared to like it.” 

“Is it new?” He asks, curious and entertained.

She nods, a small smile creeping up on her otherwise nonchalant features.

“You usually look worried.” She says, finger coming up to rest between his brows. “Even when you’re happy. I’m also scared that you’re not worried anymore.”

“You want me to worry about you?” 

She nods again, smiles a little wider - mischievous.

“Like it when you care,” she corrects him a bit, and her eyes shift to his collarbones when she says it. 

“Are you shy?” he asks, having held the question back all this time, but this is all a part of his vanilla shenanigans - innocent teasing, making her blush. 

And she does, shoves at him a little bit, but he laughs it off, kisses her again and grabs one of her hands which tries to keep swatting at him, but she stills once she realizes where he’s dragging her hand to - in between their bodies, to wrap around his cock.

It’s fully hard now, maybe harder than he ever was, Y/n thinks. She blushes, worries more.

“I’ve never waited this long,” she admits, eyes widening when she meets his - so close and so focused on hers. But he’s half-lidded, too. He’s just as sedated as she is.

“When was the last time?”

She blushes harder, tries to look away, but he holds her jaw still. Not forcefully, his fingers make a suggestion and she doesn’t resist hard enough. Bravely looks back into his eyes despite how bad the blush hits her cheeks.

“You’re not going to get mad?” She asks, “I know you slept with other people, but I know how you get…”

He shakes his head, pecks her forehead.

“I won’t get mad. No more getting mad,” he promises, peppering the kisses down to her neck, getting her heartrate up again. “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“No one since the Jimin birthday bathroom incident.”

He feels icky for having touched so many people. He feels ecstatic that she hasn’t. He feels gross for even thinking that, but he was too happy to care about his morality right now.

Nothing could feel this good and be bad for you. 

“I already kind of don’t do well, and-” She cuts herself off, trying to make sense of his watchful, lustful eyes. “Well, I already know that you’re kind of above average in that department, and-” she stops again, eyes now thwarting any interaction, opting for the ceiling. “I also don’t know if you’ll like it - or like me, I don’t know. You kind of took all of this on without test driving, so, I don’t know, maybe you’ll think it isn’t good, that it’s not worth, you know, dealing with me and all my weird stuff-”

His heart aches a bit, and he feels so close to her in that moment having shared the same burdens - does she like me? Can she handle me? 

She worries, too. But it hurts to have her think that - that he’s only here for that.

“Y/N…” 

His voice isn’t loud, but it’s deep, and it shuts her up easy. 

“Yes?” She quips, infinitely shyer than he’s ever known her to be.

“I don’t…” he thinks of how to verbalize his thoughts, thinks really carefully. She sees the strain. “This isn’t why. You know that, right?” 

His fingers linger on the collar of her dress, fingers lightly grazing her skin as if to define what he means by this - skin, lust, greed. That’s not why he’s spent the last year crawling on his knees. 

She breathes in, holds her breath, shakes her head.

He frowns, brings her hand up to kiss it, follows it up by a kiss on her cheek, then her other cheek before pulling away as close to her face as possible. He takes another second to solidify how he can convey this heavy, heavy feeling in his heart to her.

“I mean, this is great. Really. I enjoy it. But, I uh…” He swallows, hesitates. 

He smiles, frowns, hesitates. 

He’s scared to say it. He has said so much to her, confessed to every little thing, every little desire. 

But this is hard. Admitting to this is borderline humiliating, or it should be. He’s too enveloped in the warmth of the moment - the comfort of seeing the worry in her eyes, to hear the anxiety on her tongue. So, he feels brave enough. 

“It’s you. I’d do anything to be around you.”

He can’t read her expression. He doesn’t want to. Wants her to speak her intentions just like he is doing right now.

“I’d go celibate. I’d go mute. I’d do anything to be around you. If you stopped wanting this, I’d still want to be with you.” 

She doesn’t appear to be capable of speaking. Her eyes swim in his.

“I’m at home with you. It’s so loud everywhere, and I feel alone even around people, but I like it here. It’s quiet with you. It’s honest, and I’d do anything, Y/N. I’d do anything for you.” 

He can’t tell what she thinks of this, but she’s definitely thinking something. He can tell - he can hear her heart through her dress. He can see her blush deepen along with the worry in her eyes. It all gets a little deeper, darker.

“So, if I didn’t want to touch you for months… If I told you I wanted to be alone for a week…”

He smiles a little more certain, feels happy enough with that being her response. He’s glad it wasn’t disgust. 

“I’d be sad, and I’d fight you on it, but I’d be fine. I’d wait at your door.”

“What if I screwed up again? Like last night?” 

His mouth goes dry. 

“I- I don’t want to. I’m just scared that I will. I don’t know how to read you sometimes…”

He sighs, moves her over a bit so that he can lay next to her, pull her in close so that she can lay her head on his bicep. He brushes her hair out of her face, gives her a soft kiss before speaking again.

“How do you feel about me, Y/N? Is it just the sex, hmm?” 

His voice is soft - inquisitive but not accusatory. 

Her hand curls up on his chest, he ignores the jolts that the simple touch sends through him. 

“No,” she murmurs, small and expectant. “No, but I don’t know how to describe what it is…”

“Try,” he encourages with a small kiss on her nose. Makes her squirm.

“Um…” 

She thinks, bites her lip, stares up at the ceiling. His fingers wander down to the bottom hem of her dress, fingers grazing the skin just below it as if to say ‘there’s your reward, waiting - so, earn it.’

He watches her breath hitch slightly at the contact, eyes glance down before looking back up into his. She’s drunk with desire. 

He tries not to let that cloud his judgment for the time being. He wants to know.

“I guess… I feel like it’s nice to do things with you around. Usually, I don’t like things in my way, but I like it when you sit quiet by me. Don’t love it so much when you’re all hyper but…”

He giggles, kisses away the rest of that sentence before redirecting her. “Tell me about when I sit quiet. Tell me about what you like.”

She laughs against his lips, pushes his face off before speaking again.

“When you wash my hair, you get really quiet, and I could do that for hours. You don’t ask any questions, we don’t do anything weird, you just wash my hair.”

He kisses her again, body crawling on top of hers again, his member growing hard again. With all this blood pumping in and out, the poor thing was basically having a heart attack.

“A-and, mghm - wait! Haha, Jungkook, seriously-”

He pulls off her lips, stares down at her with a shit eating grin as she keeps talking.

“Like it when we work together. You get really quiet. I work better, I don’t know why.”

He goes to kiss her again, but her hand on his sternum is strong enough to hold him off.

“I like watching you sleep. You fall asleep really fast.”

He raises an eyebrow, taken back.

“You watch me sleep?” 

She nods. 

“Sometimes. For a little bit.” 

He smiles again.

“Creep.” 

She groans and shoves at him, but he’s back to kissing her, and it eases her fight up real easy, gets her soft and tired under him again - no resistance, ready to let him do whatever. 

He loses himself in the kiss, in the bliss of feeling so much affirmation in one day. He thanks god over and over and promises to never jeopardize it again. 

And truthfully, he doesn’t want to die. He never, ever wants to die. He wants to live forever like this, kissing on his sofa like teenagers in heat.

His little goddess grows uneasy in that heat, stirs up restless against his oppressive touch. He has her hands pinned down, her mouth occupied, and his legs weighing down hers. She can’t move and he doesn’t want her to. 

He wants her here forever. 

But soon enough, his own desires start to overwhelm him, and he’s basically ripping the dress off of Y/N, happy to find that she adorned no bra and the skimpiest panties he had ever seen - black and lace and barely there. 

She holds onto her breasts as he kisses down her body, pecks just above her panties before crawling back up, grabbing her hands in his and pushing them back up, trying to lead her into grabbing onto the armrest, and she does, hands wrapping around the wood, hanging on for dear life before he situates himself back between her legs, pushing her underwear to the side with one hand and using that to separate her thigh, hitch it over his shoulder. 

She moans at the angle - at the sight of him - and her hand immediately comes up to curl around her lips, trying to cage in any more sounds that might escape.

He reaches up, gently pries that hand away before licking up her folds once, eyes watching her intently but softly as he did. 

She crashed back against the cushions, and let her hands grab back armrest, torso stretching out for him as his hand lazily rested on her abdomen, soothingly petting her as his lips went on with their mission.

His goal wasn’t to ruin her. He just wanted her. 

She seemed a bit clumsy with his slow rhythm at first. She found it inappropriate to rush him after his very specific disclaimer, but she was needy as always. 

He didn’t give into it, kept his torture slow as his fingers joined in, achingly moving in and out of her walls, carefully and intentionally pressing and focusing on all the right spots but never with enough fervor to make her finish.

But enough to lull her into a lazy, constant pleasure - the forever drag before the climax. 

A couple of minutes bathed in the sunshine and his intentional skills, she relaxed, immediately caught on to the allure, and she was heavenly to watch as she squirmed and moved and moaned freely against his mouth. 

He pulled away and up her body to kiss her as his fingers picked up the slightest bit of speed, and he felt her panting into his mouth like she was close, and right then, he stopped, pulled his fingers out and shoved them into his mouth, greedily licking them down as he stared into her eyes. 

She kissed him, a bit mindlessly, and her hands clawed at his boxers. 

He sighed into her mouth as he peeled them off, felt his member release and slap against her stomach. 

He moaned at the way her body reacted to it, the way it moved away and closer all at the same time. 

Her hands were in his hair again, and heaven’s gates were oh so close. 

He knew that she could feel how hard his heart was beating. Made him self conscious.

“Is this okay? On the couch?” 

He pulled away after shyly muttering the question against her lips.

He was sickened and enchanted to see her laying back against the sun bleached couch, the sunrays painting her skin a beautiful, glowing golden color.

She looked sedated - calm, in love, beautiful. 

She couldn’t be moved. It couldn’t be done.

He didn’t wait for her answer, just went back to kissing her as he grabbed himself, testing the waters a bit as he rubbed himself against her entrance.

She started mewling, immediately wettening at the movement, eyes closing and fingers scratching down his back. 

Well, he liked that.

He kept it up, ate those pretty moans out of her mouth, teased her tongue against his before he felt how close she was, and he couldn’t wait anymore.

He pulled off with one of those lewd pops and caught her eyes, half drifting off into a pleasure induced nap.

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out, half laughing as he caressed her jaw, made her focus on him. She smiled back and raised her eyebrows. “You with me?” 

“Mhm, just,” she circled her hips the slightest bit, “I feel insane. Can’t talk if you don’t just-”

His eyes honed right in on her face, ready to take in every detail as he pushed his head in, meeting immediate resistance, warmth, and wetness.

“Y/N…”

Her name came out in a mess of syllables - an honest confession.

Her sleepy gaze seemed to awaken at that expression of his, at the feeling of his intrusion and her nails immediately dug down deep into his shoulders. Her mouth opened into a gasp and a sigh - a sick combination of the two - before falling down into a desperate whimper.

“J-Jungkook,” she moaned out, and that made him lose all control. Bucked another inch into her without hesitation - barely stopping himself. “Agh, mghmph - too - ah, too big!” 

He breathed out slow, wanted to watch the way she stretched around him, but knew that he’d lose all control if he did, so he chose to pepper kisses down her cheeks instead in an attempt to comfort her as he slowly started to rock his tip in and out of her, knowing full well that her entrance was much more sensitive than the rest of her, so this wasn’t exactly helping the situation.

But he couldn’t help it - she screamed, dug her nails deeper and kissed him. She kissed him, and he slowly swung a little deeper, a cm or a half at a time with each thrust so it didn’t overwhelm her. 

“Y-You’re,” Jungkook tried to form a though, a sentence, but the strain was making him focus all brain power on not shoving his entire length into her. “You’re tight, baby, just - god, relax a bit for me.”

“I-” her words were immediately cut off by a whimper, and Jungkook couldn’t take the look on her face. He couldn’t look away from it either - he was sick of how much he loved it. He wanted to see it forever. Wanted her to always look at him like that. “I can’t, you’re - Jungkook!” 

He was halfway in - squeezed to death and back - and she was gushing with how aroused she was. 

His couch was ruined. 

He couldn’t be more thrilled.

“I think my girl likes it slow,” he spoke, smirking a little at how fucked out she was. So fucked out that she didn’t care about him talking about her like she wasn’t there. “She likes it gentle, doesn’t she?” 

She whimpered again and nodded. Jungkook damn near came. He couldn’t believe that she was letting him get away with this, let alone the fact that she seemed to be enjoying it. 

“Was I too rough on you before, hmm?” He asked, pulling out all the way to rub his head against her clit again. She immediately cried out, bit down on her fingers, shook her head at him as her other hand grabbed at his hip, tried to tug him back closer.

“D-Don’t tease,” she begged, eyes teary as they stared up at him, pouting. “You said we were doing it your way.” 

He smirked again, dipped his head back in and enjoyed the fact that her walls had relaxed a bit. Didn’t stop her from absolutely melting at the intrusion again, throwing her head back with a generous moan.

“Never said my way was easy, princess,” he teased, thumb coming down to rub her clit as he stilled himself for a second, knowing that the next thrust would be the real thing. 

She could feel it, too. Searched for his lips again, and the second they got lost in that kiss, he thrust himself fully into her, immediately pulling away to watch her face.

Watched it crumble, whimper, fawn, and blossom - he watched her fall apart and come back to life a million times in that moment before losing himself in it.

He was thrusting into her - slow and deep - before he even realized it. He was gluttonous about it - he was drinking her in like really expensive whiskey, lingering every thrust until its very last drop as if to memorize the feel of her. 

“Do you like it like this?” he asked once her whimpers grew calm, and she grew a bit quiet underneath him. She was watching him, mouth open in small, mindless whimpers instead of the bellowing moans from before.

She nodded, eyes still locked on his - the mere eye contact making his hips stutter inside of her, his breath hitching as he did his best to not release.

He felt like he was fighting for his life with each second, and she was so, so wet, and he wanted so badly to…

“I love you.”

He more than stuttered at that. He stilled inside of her, accidentally filling her up to the absolute hilt before bracing his hands against the couch, clutching his fists tight and burying his face into her mess of hair to stop himself from looking at her and combusting then and there.

Her hands shifted to his ribs, nails scratching against them as she tried to get his attention mid gasp, trying to accommodate his entire length at once with no let up from him.

He couldn’t move. He absolutely couldn’t. He was so close. 

“S-sorry,” she stammered amidst a choked up breath, and he immediately betrayed his rule to lift his head up to stare straight into her eyes as he shook his head.

“No, no, don’t be sorry, I just-” he winced as he pulled out the tiniest bit before pushing in again, slightly digging against her entrance, eyes looking up to watch her face as he did.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth formed a small, heartlike ‘oh’ which he ate up with a heavy kiss as he got back into the rhythm of thrusting into her, but enjoying this full, shallow feeling infinitely more - never pulling out all the way and grinding into her. It seemed to drive her crazy in the best way possible.

“Say that again.” he begged, lips always just barely pulling off of hers to speak before diving right back into it.

“I-mgphm - love you.”

“Yeah?” he parroted, pecking her jaw before biting down on the skin, hips pulling back farther and farther until he was slamming into her, ears picking up on the wonderful sounds they were producing. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?” 

“Oh, come on,” she shoved at his chest a little bit, making him pull away to straighten out his arms, his torso hovering over hers as his hips adjusted to the angle, watched her eyes flicker back the tiniest bit before she composed herself.

“I just want to hear you say it. Just once.”

She choked on her moans, swallowed her annoyance and appeased him for the millionth time that day (night?).

“You. I- I belong to y-you.” She begrudgingly choked out. 

“Uhhuh,” he praised, letting out the nastiest string of moans possible as his hips picked up speed, as he started to grow delirious. “Well, I belong to you. P-property of - ughm, Y/N, you’re clenching again.”

“I can’t help it,” she cried out, hands coming around to scratch down his collarbones. Her breaths were quick and shallow and her body was insanely hot - it hurt to touch, but Jungkook couldn’t deny himself.

He kissed all over her neck, made her squirm, pushed her arms up before kissing down to her sternum and then back up to her lips, tongues moving against one another hard enough to elicit pleasure even from there.

It felt as if every inch of him was covered, soaked in pleasure.

“You mean it, right?” he asked, desperate as he neared his release - Cinderella scared of losing her slipper. He pulled away, looked into her eyes, which were the loveliest shade they’d ever been - hazy but loving.

She caressed his face, fingers traced his lips, as she nodded. 

“You want me? All of it?” he asked, grabbing her hand and bringing her palm in for a kiss before panting against it, eyes closed, maintaining his composure for one final second. One final confession.

“Every little bit of it.” 

His eyes peeled open and he buried himself deep inside of her. Watched her as her walls clamped down on him, and she came undone.

And he followed, proud and deserving and euphoric. Emptied himself inside of her with a silent whisper of her name and a louder, clearer declaration.

“I love you, too.”

He crashed on top of her, felt his cum drip around his member, out of her, and onto the couch. Couldn’t bear to pull out. 

She was basically half asleep at that point and in an attempt to not suffocate her, he rolled onto his back, pulled her on top of his chest, and stayed inside of her. Planned to for as long as she would let him. 

She was asleep instantly - so much for teasing him for falling asleep fast. He chuckled to himself, played with her hair, and didn’t dare miss a second of her forty five minute nap on his chest. 

Felt himself harden again when she started coming to - maybe to that sensation alone.

She whimpered, wordless, and kissed him before starting to circle her hips.

Jungkook said nothing but donned a shit eating smile and spread out his arms against the sofa in pure bliss and let her ride him into his second orgasm. 

The next time that they came to, he had her bent against the arm of the sofa, hitting it from the back while pulling on her long hair, making her cry out his name over and over again until he filled her to the brim with his cum. 

He somehow convinced her to let him take as many pictures as he wanted of the aftermath, giggling at his directing and admiration of his work.

They were in the shower not long after that, fucking with her face pressed against the wall, his hips hammering into her merciless. 

She was wordless for the most part, all smiles, all putty in his hand. 

They laid in his bed, wet hair. She wore one of his robes, it was huge on her and he loved that. Loved how she disappeared into it. Wanted to get her name embroidered on it. Wanted to buy her matching slippers then handcuff her to his bed and never let her leave.

“... and we could also file the pleadings simultaneously and see which they focus their defense on to scope out their strategy…”

They’d been geeking out about some new case for the past five minutes as they laid in their afterglow, stomachs grumbling but their appetites incapable of deciding on anything that didn’t involve each other.

“Y/N,” he called out, interrupting her flow as softly as he could.

“What?” She asked, a little frown escaping onto her face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

She frowned deeper.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m going to start saying a lot of things like that. Get used to it.”

She shook her head, lips hardening and gaze following close by. 

She turned away from him, faced the ceiling.

“You got what you wanted,” she said, kind of abruptly, before turning her head to look back at him, her eyes appearing a bit disappointed. He perked up, suddenly curious. She looked a little past him as he propped his chin on his han - she was thinking.

“You got what you wanted, too, right?” He asked, doing his best to mask the insecurity in his voice.

She kept thinking, pondered back to stare at the ceiling again. 

Then she muttered, coldly, almost to herself:

“Doesn’t mean you’ll stay. Doesn’t mean it’ll stick.”

He watched her face grow sad, tired within a millisecond, before going back to its original warmth, but she had already startled him. It was too late to take it back.

“You can’t genuinely think that I’d leave after-”

“Why not?” She asked, her eyes soft but her words sharp. “I mean,” she laughed a little, “my own dad killed himself after one weekend alone with me. So, you know, the odds aren’t great.”

Somehow, almost instantly, he found the strength to shove the fear, and the confusion, and the off-puttedness she seemed to be so good at embedding into a room, deep down and ignoring it for a second to get to the root of the problem. 

He smiled, lips coming down to peck her forehead before pulling her in close and loudly, proudly declaring:

“I’m not leaving, idiot,” he chastised, arms wrapping tight around her shoulders and squeezing, enjoying the plush of their robes around them, feeling more enveloped and safe than ever. “I’m never leaving.”

She hesitated, hands curled into his robe.

“I don’t know…” she whispered into the fabric before lifting her head up and staring down at him. “I’d like that in writing.”

He laughed, happiness swimming even heavier in his chest as he thwarted Y/N’s first of many guerrilla attacks on their blossoming relationship. He was excited to play this little game.

“Are you asking for my hand in marriage?” 

She met his wise comment with a punch to his ribs, but it was all showered over by her blooming laughter. He matched it tenfold and silenced her into a bout of kisses. 

He felt content. There was nothing else left to feel.

[maladaptivejeon]

𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿(𝕡𝕥. 𝕥𝕨𝕠)

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

summary: lawyer!au where burned out attorney Jeon Jungkook starts his own barely-functioning firm and accidentally hires an even bigger problem themes: oh brother, fastest slow burn imaginable; unhinged workplace dynamics; “what is wrong with you” x “no seriously, what is wrong with you” energy; chaotic coworker ensemble; blurred professional/personal boundaries; power imbalances; questionable coping mechanisms; dark humor; emotional repression series warnings: mdni! explicit content, workplace power dynamics, toxic coping mechanisms, degradation/humiliation themes, dom/sub undertones, restraint/bondage (handcuffs etc), threesome-ish situations, feetplay, s*xual tension tied to control/instability, messy consent-adjacent dynamics, s*bstance use, dark themes intertwined with s*xual content wc: ~11k(chapter total)/~70k (series total) a/n: TAGLIST IS CLOSED (bc i was never supposed to have a taglist) but in honor of the og fans of the series, i'll make an exception for you guys, hope you enjoy the next part: @mikrokookiex @prxdajeon @bjoriis @somehowukook ~Part Two~

Going back to the office on Monday is hell. It’s actual, literal hell.

Maybe Jungkook did kill himself. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

Jimin picks up on something immediately. Namjoon is quick to follow.

“Well, you’ve been quiet,” Jimin chimes from his door as he brings in the binders full of documents that Jungkook has to review.

Jungkook hates document review.

What he hates more is Namjoon’s jeering voice adding to the scrutiny -

“Yeah, you usually break out into song at least twice by noon.” He checks the clock on Jungkook’s wall. “It’s 1 pm. I’m concerned.”

“I’m fine! Just overwhelmed by..” he picks up one of the binders, “all these documents.”

Jimin and Namjoon exchange looks. Jungkook is getting tired of that.

“You should ask Y/N for help,” Namjoon tries. He gets a stress ball thrown at him.

“I’m asking the paralegal for help.”

Soon enough, Jimin and Namjoon find ways to avoid him and his wrath because Jungkook is…

Corrupted. There is no other word for it. He feels a personality split - he feels like he’s in a constant daze between the old Jungkook and the real Jungkook and everything is a bother.

He wants to punch a wall when he needs to leave his office to ask Jimin a question.

Just as he’s walking out, Y/N is walking back into the building from lunch.

With. Her. Shoes. Off.

She’s juggling her work bag in one arm and her heels in the other as she stumbles into the office, flinging herself to Jimin’s front desk.

“Okay, Cinderella,” Jimin calls out, but Y/N looks too disheveled to properly respond, paralleling a panic that resembles Jungkook’s.

“Those stupid elevators,” she murmurs, and Jungkook just watches, mouth open as she tosses her heels into the trash can. “Broke my new Pradas.”

“I have a guy. I’ll send for a pair of Sam Edelmans for your journey home.”

She nods gratefully and finally lifts her gaze away from her broken heels to acknowledge Jungkook’s existence.

She jumps a little, startled.

Jungkook is surprised at her reaction, but doesn’t move. Instead, his eyes drop down to her feet, toes barely visible through the stockings, wriggling uncomfortably against the rug. Under his gaze.

“Can I help you?” the attitude is thick in her voice. He just shakes his head. “Thought so. Put it on the amex, Jimin.”

“Absolutely!”

The shoes don’t get delivered until Jimin and Namjoon are long gone for the night. He’s not sure if it’s their absence, or if Y/N has been typing particularly loud the whole day, but it’s only gotten worse after Jimin and Namjoon’s departure.

He thinks he might lose it.

The entire day, he’s had to watch her bare feet walk past the front of his office, running past Jimin and Namjoon’s desk every five minutes under the excuse that she had a big motion coming up, but Jungkook does not remember her ever leaving her office this much.

Now that they’re gone, she’s retreated to her cave, but he can still hear that incessant typing.

It’s interrupted by a rogue hello from the front of the office.

He figures those are the shoes so he goes out to sign for them, holding the green bag in his hand until the guy disappears past elevators.

He wonders what he thinks about delivering women’s shoes to a man, presumably alone in an office at 8 p.m. at night.

He sighs, audibly. Why has it come to this?

He begrudgingly walks over to Y/N’s office to bring her the heels, just happy that she’ll put those things away, thank god, but Jungkook would like to make something clear - he does not have a thing for feet.

He’s never actually been a big fan of fetishes. Sure, he was abusive at his job, but that usually came off in the bedroom - he was vanilla and he knew it.

So, he didn’t know where his corrupted, sick feelings toward Y/N were coming from, but it was undeniable - she brought out something animalistic in him. Something pubescent, needy.

He gulped outside of her door, knocking on it like he was at hell’s gates, voluntarily.

“Come in.”

He shouldn’t have.

Y/N was under her desk, on all fours, ass up in the air and the bottoms of her feet similarly elevated, as she reached for what looked like a pen.

“What is it?” She grunted as she finally managed to grab it and spun around to sit with her legs stretched out in front of her, back leaning against a desk le.

“Your shoes.” he said, eyes darkening and his nervous face melting off into something much less forgiving. He didn’t sound nervous.

She looked up at him, tearing her gaze away from the pen, when he threw the bag on the floor.

The bag sat there as they stared at each other - Jungkook looking down the bridge of his nose with an unexplained tension and Y/N with eyes wide and alert.

“Are you going to put it on?” He had absolutely no patience in his voice.

Don’t be mistaken - this is about the shoes, but this isn’t about the shoes.

She continued to look up at him, eyes getting more doll-like by the minute as her hands steadied by her hips on the floor, legs slightly bending at the knee as she rubbed her feet lightly against each other for a millisecond.

“I don’t know, this feels nice,” she whined, moving her toes, looking for some amusement from Jungkook before leaning down to stretch out her back - fingers reaching for her feet. “Better than walking around in heels all day.”

She slowly sat back up, and looked up at him half expecting a smile - she doesn’t think Jungkook really has it in him to ever do what he wants – but her face drops into a frown when instead she’s met with whatever she’s met with.

She can’t exactly describe it, but it makes something shake inside of her. Jungkook can see it - the jolt in her gaze.

He suddenly crouched down, next to her legs, his hand coming out to run down her calf before resting on her knee.

His touch is feather soft, but it’s jarring to have the guy go from avoiding you all day to fondling your leg- Jungkook can guess that much as she shivers under his teasing touch as soon as he lays contact.

“Did you have fun today?” he asked, eyes swimming with thoughts as Y/N tilted her head.

“If I knew I could have,” she says, a condescending dip to her brows as if to indicate, you don’t intimidate me, “I would have.”

His lips twitch, so do her legs a bit - he can tell that she’s thinking about moving them away. About stopping him.

“Should we have some fun, Y/N?”

She breathes a little more generously at his offer. He is out of his mind.

“Is this going to become a regular thing?”

The way she asks the question - he’s not sure what to make of it. Her lips are slightly pouty, her eyes apologetic, as if she’s sorry for even asking, and her shoulders are a little slumped.

She seems confused. She’s not sure what he’s doing, or what he’s trying to do.

He sighs, runs a hand over his face before crashing down onto his ass, sitting next to her legs with his knees bent, elbows resting on them in exhaustion as he tries to hold his chest up.

He keeps staring at her legs, longingly, and some of the docile Jungkook slips in, the darkness fades, and he just feels desperate.

“I don’t know, Y/N…” he whines, hand running back and forth on the inside of her knee mindlessly yet intently focused all at the same time.

He doesn’t notice the way she starts to squirm. He can’t. He’s too focused on dragging his hand then down to her ankles, fingers lazy circling the bone before dragging down to the inside just above the bottom of her foot, lightly scratching down to watch her retreat it back towards herself.

“Tickles,” she comments before returning it, flexing her toes a bit.

“Does it?” he asks.

With a bold move, he pulls that leg in his lap, sitting criss crossed in the same spot.

She lets him as he then runs his finger lightly down the bottom of her foot before circling in the middle, and she squirms a little harder, but he holds her still by the ankle, yanking her back into place when she really tries to pull it back.

“Sit still,” he orders, devious Jungkook slipping back into his features in an instant. “Can you?”

She considers it then shakes her head.

“I’ve never done anything with-”

“Me neither.” He beats her to it, lifting her foot up, her leg outstretched, to leave a kiss on that ankle bone as she watches. She flutters. Her thighs clamp together slightly. Her hand comes up to cover her eyes, her blushing cheeks. His vision blurs for a moment.

“But I want to.”

He lets the words hang there. Just a confession - not a request yet.

She looks more innocent than she ever has, but he sees the temptation across her features. Her curiosity always shines through.

“Do you want to try with me?” He offers, carefully laying her foot down onto his lap again, a bit closer to his aching member than before. She senses the shift, adjusts her hips a bit.

Jungkook waits for a response, but all she does is stare into his soul, and he knows he shouldn’t, but he takes that as a green light.

He takes her foot, and does the most abashed thing he has ever done in his life.

He bucks his hips against it, the smooth, staticky, nylon bottom of it.

Her eyes flutter again and she stretches her foot down just slightly to reciprocate and he moans, quivers - he’s a broken man.

“Mr. Jeon?” She calls out, but it feels like a hallucination to him. His hips are slightly erratic but he’s still holding himself back, so it just looks like he’s uncertain of himself as he bucks into her, but she seems to know how to play the game because she takes the initiative to join her other foot in the torture, pressing down more decidedly now against his aching member.

It fights the pressure, but he’s never known fire like this -the friction between the cloths, between his stupid useless dress pants, and her heavenly soft legs.

His hands wander across them, lightly pressing and moaning as he explores, mind swimming with dirtier and dirtier possibilities.

Her toe wriggles to poke at him, and she hums something like a moan out, which gets his attention, gets him to look right at her.

She’s…

He can’t help it, he’s off of the floor and on top of her in a matter of seconds, hands pushing her thighs up so that he can press his member flush against her center - skirt pushed up to her hips at the intrusion.

His lips are on hers, no hesitation, and his hands brace on either side of her head, weight leaning on his elbows in an effort not to crush her, but she doesn’t seem to mind either way.

Her hands are in his hair, scratching and pulling. Her lips are sliding against his with ease and palpable excitement - her tongue sly but clever against his.

His jaw is taunt because as much as he’s indulging, he’s also trying to cage and control that little monster that wants to rip absolutely everything off of her and pummel into her until she cries, god, could you imagine her crying?

“M-Mr. Jeon -”

“God, don’t call me that.” He begs, hips still gyrating against hers, trying to elicit more moans out of her mouth and, like song, they fall. Little hiccups and gasps in his ear and in his mouth, and there is so much saliva exchanged between them, he feels like he’s drinking her at this point.

Then, he feels it - a little stutter to her hips, a tightness to her fingers on his neck, and her eyes slightly scrunched as her mouth parts open.

He pulls away just the slightest bit to watch it - her falling apart.

He doesn’t change his pace, but lets her take the lead more in bucking up into him. He doesn’t think it’s possible, but it makes him swell a little more.

He lets her body go a little limp against the floor as he props himself up on his knees, one balanced right in between her legs, dangerously close to her sensitive core.

He could keep going, but he doesn’t.

His hands pick at each other as he sits back and looks at her from a distance as she sits up and pushes her skirt back down - cheeks are red, hair is way beyond tussled, down and out in waves that surround her like a halo. Her lips have been kissed. You can tell.

He is out of breath and his hands are desperately pulling down at his tie as he watches her, but she doesn’t make eye contact with him.

She almost looks shy. He doesn’t think he can take it.

“Y/N,” he tries, his mouth hesitating on each syllable. She bites her lip, eyes and hands scouring the ground for something. “I think we should…”

She finds it - it’s a hair tie. She looks back at him as she puts her hair up into a high pony.

His mouth goes a little slack. He’s never seen her in a ponytail.

“Should what?” She asks, looking down at a button on her shirt that’s popped clean off. She frowns.

He gulps, eyes catching the lace of her bra through the opening. He immediately directs his eyes to the ceiling and prays - to what, he’s not sure.

“Y/N…”

“You say my name a lot.”

He sighs, rubs a hand over his eyes, which are exhausted from having to stare up at the fluorescents to avoid her exacting gaze.

“Y/N, I think we should maybe just be friends.”

Silence. He can’t look at her.

“I- I don’t really know what we’re doing here, and it’s completely my fault, and I understand if you want to sue me, I won’t make you sign your rights away, just I can’t have you-”

“I’m going to go home. I don’t want to talk.” She’s on her feet in an instant.

As usual, he has no choice but to look at her, face shattered from her abruptness.

“Y/N -”

“I don’t have to have this conversation. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s on his feet. He’s slightly pissed.

He grabs her by the arm and pushes her down into one of her guest chairs before leaning down, grabbing each arm of the chair to corner her in, leaning in so she hears every word.

“I like you. You’re a good attorney. You’re a good friend. I would like to be friends with you. I want to stop whatever it is that we’re currently doing.”

She glances down at the boner that’s betraying his words.

“Y/N!” he snaps, eyes shut in frustration once again, quickly peeled open once he lets the anger subside the tiniest bit. “Eyes up here!”

“I’ll sue you if you don’t let me leave right now.”

“Sue me, then.”

She purses her lips. She’s lost.

“Two seconds, and then I’m done.” He promises, and softens his delivery by letting the arms go, giving her some space, and opting to crouch down instead.

She seems to converse better when she’s looking down at him. Listens better, too.

“I don’t want to mess this up. You, Jimin, Namjoon - I’m lucky to have found you guys -”

“Well, I found Namjoon and Jimin.”

“Y/N…”

“Sorry.” She appears slightly bashful.

“Let’s just… stop. We can just remain as good friends-”

“We are not friends. We’re co-workers.”

He wants to laugh.

“Can I get one full sentence out?” He begs, but it’s not hard to tell that he seems to find some charm in this. Maybe he’s lost his mind (if his therapist is reading this, yes, he’s aware that he’s clinically diagnosed as having lost his mind, he means this more figuratively).

“I get the jist, Jungkook.”

He falls onto his knee a little bit. She’s never called him by his first name.

“You want to be friends. You don’t want us to touch each other for fun.”

He’s a little shocked that she actually gets it, maybe without the nuance. But that’s fine. This is more than he can ask for.

“Exactly. No touching. Nothing weird. Just friends. Or coworkers.”

She smiles. It’s a real, rare smile from Y/N.

He smiles back, not exactly sure why. He personally feels like he just turned away from a pot of gold he’s been walking miles to find. Maybe it’s her smile. Maybe that’s enough to make him forget about this sacrifice.

When he goes home that night, his apartment feels like a vacant turtle shell - he feels too big for it. He feels too big for his bed. He has the AC cranked and his loosest pair of boxers on and the blankets strewn across the floor, but he still feels overheated.

All he can think about is the smile and the sacrifice.

What would she do to him if he didn’t hold them back?

Did she even want to do the things that she did with him? Her bluntness was one thing, but Jungkook felt constantly plagued by this idea that she was really just emotionally inapt - not really cognizant of Jungkook’s feelings at all. He wondered what she thought of the way he acted. Did she know that he liked her? Did she think this was just a physical thing?

She feels different things. He thinks back to that - what does that mean?

What did she feel when she came apart under him?

He doesn’t get much sleep, but he at least feels some moral victory when he steps in the office the next morning - he did the right thing.

Jimin and Namjoon are even more suspicious than before, but the dark circles around Jungkook’s eyes and his giant cup of black iced coffee ward them off from bothering him further.

The next few days pass without much incident, and the office returns to its early vibes of everyone treating Jungkook like an overbearing alien, and Y/N locked up in her office for most of the time.

Jungkook feels some vitality return back to his bones. From the trial to the feelings that Y/N had conjured, it had all taken a hit on his health. He had stopped working out, eating right, or keeping much if any order around him.

But, he was slowly getting back to his routine. Morning runs, fresh weekly barber visits, back to hitting PRs at the gym.

It was just the sleeping bit. He found that a little tough.

Because that’s when it would all hit him - everything he kept at bay.

The lingering feelings from his past every time an article about his old firm or an old coworker came out, touting their success. The calls from his accountant with updates on the firm’s success, which came with suggestions that he should maybe hire some more attorneys. He didn’t want to. The constant dread that every case is a lifeline, and if he loses a single one, then he’ll prove all of his detractors right.

And Y/N - constant, constant thoughts of Y/N - her legs, her voice, her eyes, the way she laughs, the way she kisses…

And the sex, or the lack of it.

I mean, he has tried.

Three weeks of (somewhat) normalcy at the firm convinced him to start going on dates again. Jimin begrudgingly got him a Raya profile - since he’s technically a famous political activist for mental health rights. Jimin also begrudgingly books some sexy dinners for him, and Jungkook tries. Meets amazing, intelligent women. Normal women. Who want to have normal sex with him.

He wants nothing to do with it.

A couple of minutes of a makeout sesh on his couch, with the ocean view, and he’s over it. At first, he tries. He tries to just have sex for the sake of it. Works with the first girl. She doesn’t seem impressed by the end of it, but texts him after, so he takes that as a good sign. The second girl - he can’t get it up. That crushes him. It crushes her. She blocks him from everything imaginable. He doesn’t blame her.

Then, he just opts to leave his dates with a kiss on the forehead and some flowers, and trudges it back to his apartment, where he pulls up the nastiest porn imaginable and just jacks it off for whatever minuscule relief that may afford him.

Every morning, Jimin greets him with a different insult about his face.

“Jesus, drink some water.”

“Oh god, did you get any sleep?”

“We have clients coming, take my concealer.”

He grabs the concealer from him, having become an expert at applying it at this point. Jimin is right - he looks awful. As he lingers at the front desk, concealer in hand, briefcase in the other, and face dropped low to the ground, in comes the exacerbator.

The devil on his shoulder that makes it impossible for him to get his rocks off.

Y/N. Y/N, who has stopped wearing skirts with the roll of the autumn months.

Y/N who now has a thing for stilettos and stilettos only. She has always been a supporter of heels, but these are something else.

She’s like a ballerina.

A slutty, filthy ballerine, who in recent weeks has gotten into the unabashed habit of checking him out every chance she gets.

He thanks god for her antisocial ways because if she spent any more time outside of that office than she currently does, Jungkook would have to be locked up (ideally with her).

But the hour-long assignment talks have stopped. He can’t live through a daily occurrence of those. Only when he must. Only when it’s essential.

When he first called her in after that god forsaken night, he was borderline hopeful. They had talked, had come to an agreement - they would be friends, co workers. Like before. Things could be good and not confusing again and he could just hold her hostage in his room and enjoy her presence and maybe sneak a look at her legs every now and then.

But one, she almost immediately stopped the skirts. Stopped the stockings.

That was fine. He actually appreciated that. Easier on his weary soul.

But at some point, a couple of weeks into the whole thing, she also stopped zoning out as much as she usually did.

No, she was zoned the fuck in.

The second she entered his space, there was an almost obligatory check-out of his junk. It would make him blush, shuffle, leave the room in a panic. He could almost always see a small smirk on her lips before he fled the scene.

It was subtle at first - not recurrent enough for him to call it out, but soon it got worse. It seemed with every date that Jimin booked for him, Y/N’s intentions on following through with Jungkook’s friendship offer was fading, corrupting.

If he spoke to her, she refused to look at his eyes. It was always his lips. Clearly, intently. She was glaring down his lips, licking her own, irises widening.

He would get hot, scared even.

He hated being alone in the same room as her. If she came in with a question, which she had started doing at an alarming frequency - more than twice a week - Jungkook would immediately call Jimin in to take notes because “this might be important.”

Or, he’d find a reason for her to ask Namjoon instead. He was smart, he figured he’d have the answer anyway.

She’d smirk at those efforts, would take one last look at his junk, or his ass, or his arms, bite her lip and saunter out. Stilettos clicking.

So, maybe things weren’t exactly back to normal. Maybe things weren’t exactly good.

But he lived to tell the tale - for two months, he was subjected to this torture, but he was still alive and kicking.

Barely. But still!

He’s half dozing off in front of his computer, thinking about this internal tension when Jimin spills inside, without a knock. Jungkook is used to it.

“Party inviteeeeessss! Fresh off the presssss!”

“How come Jungkook gets it first?!” Namjoon shouts from outside the hall. Jungkook sighs at the onslaught of noise and rubs his temple.

“Because he is my favorite!” Jimin shouts back before turning to Jungkook with an incredibly wide, grateful smile. “I saw the little extra bonus on my paycheck. For what? Setting up the dates?”

“For helping juggle everything while I lose my mind,” Jungkook corrected, reaching over for the paper extended out in Jimin’s hand. “You deserve it. What is this?”

“My birthday party! My boyfriend is holding a set at the Tiger.”

Jungkook scoffs.

“I haven’t been there since I was 22. We’re going to a rave for your 31st birthday?”

Jimin gives him that sideeye again. He’ll be in Y/N’s office soon, complaining about how boring Jungkook is.

“You really need to loosen up. You need this more than I do, grandpa.”

Jungkook does.

“Wait!”

Jimin turns on his heel.

“Is Y/N coming?”

Jimin laughs.

“God himself couldn’t make her show up to this.”

Jungkook smiles wide.

“Thank god,” he exhales. “I’ll be there. I could use a fun night.”

Turns out there was nothing to thank god for - much to Jungkook’s chagrin, Y/N shows up.

Jimin and Namjoon are flabbergasted.

Jungkook wants to die (note to therapist: this is a joke).

“Happy birthday, Jimin.”

She hands all of them a shot - drinks are on her tonight. They all take it down with a wary eye on her, and Namjoon gives Jungkook a poke as Jimin grabs Y/N to go order bottle service for their table - he gets on board with raver Y/N a little too fast for his own good.

“Over under on her poisoning the shots?”

Jungkook thinks.

“I think someone poisoned her shot.”

Namjoon nods, and the duo stare as Jimin and Y/N bounce through the crowd, looking ethereal together.

If it wasn’t for her coming up to them and staring at them for a clean ten seconds, Jungkook would have had no idea that that was her.

Hair is down, super wavy - like beachy wavy. A tiny section is pinned up on either side , some pieces braided, and a few loose ones just falling about her face. The locks float and bounce about her, curved into a v that ends just above her hips.

She’s wearing a black layered mesh, wrapped dress that flutters at the sleeves and bunches all around her body before falling into a subtle but frilly skirt, wavy like her hair, around her hips, accentuating her curves. She has the finest mesh stockings on, and a pair of tall black platforms, her toes painted a dark glittery navy.

She has these cute gold hoops on - a little bulky. She has less makeup on than usual, the accent just being on her long, wispy lashes and a small blush to the tops of her cheek.

Her dress hangs off of shoulders, falling into a heart around her decollete.

It’s all so delicately but tightly clung to her, and the length is just unfair. It stops just barely right above the curve of her ass, and she moves so purposefully in it that it stays in place, but one wonders what they could see if it moved by just one centimeter.

Jungkook burns the picture in his brain and does not, even for one second take his eyes off of her figure as she prances around with Jimin, taking a second to indulge on the dance floor, the duo dancing nasty with each other.

“Have you seen this before?” Jungkook asks, half acknowledging Namjoon’s presence and half treating him like a Google search engine.

“Uh, you mean like…”

“Like that - like Jimin and Y/n grinding together-”

“Yeah, relax, like once or twice. She doesn’t party much, but when she does-”

“Jesus.” Jungkook finishes for him, downing the whiskey in his glass like it’s water as he watches her move.

He wants to die (note to therapist: dude, he kind of means it this time), or he wants to kill something (P.S. this can’t be normal, right?) - he’s not exactly sure.

He just watches for the time being - he can become a serial killer later.

Her back is right up against Jimin’s, his hands on her ribs, scratching at her dress as he whispers into her ear, moving their hips as she throws her head back, arms stretched out in the air, swaying to the beat.

People look. Jungkook’s keeping track of every man that looks. He’s adding them to the kill list.

“Just a friendly reminder that he’s gay.” Namjoon offers, but it’s too late. He’s already on his feet, piercing through the crowd and beelining it for Jimin and Y/N.

With his gaze locked on their bodies, he fails to see Y/N’s eyes on him the entire time, lips curved in victory as she watches him lose it. Jimin is too busy staring at a 6 foot 2 hunk at the back of the bar to notice, basically eye fucking him as he holds onto Y/N.

Jungkook appears in front of them with an expression that no one can read. Namjoon is hot on his tail, and someone should pity him for how often he’s chasing these people to their problems.

“I thought you guys were getting bottles.” Jungkook accuses, voice loud over the music.

“Yeah, we got distracted,” Jimin says with a giggle as he winks over at the hunk, ass tutted out slightly as he slowly gets Y/N to gyrate their bodies down and back up.

Jungkook has had it. He grabs Y/N by the arm and pulls her away.

They all stare at him, all three of them. Jungkook stares too, stupidly, at his grip, then back up at everyone around him before landing on Y/N’s.

“Uh, I’ll go with her.” he sputters, tearing his eyes away to look defensively at Jimin and Namjoon. “I’ll go get the bottles with her. Since Jimin is distracted…”

“He said, we got distracted. Go with Namjoon…” Y/N corrects, but Jungkook is already pulling her away from the other two’s accusatory glances and dragging her towards the bar. He inadvertently slams her back against the counter and drops each hand on either side of her shoulders to avoid crashing into her.

She just stands there, looking up at him all pretty.

She’s a nose push away and he gulps, eyes darting up to the bartenders, holding out his amex like a white flag, desperately trying to nail one down, and at the silver glint, two push to make it his way.

“Could we get a bottle service menu? For the table back there?”

One of them nods, pulls one out and drops it on the counter. Y/N turns around, ass pressed flat against his cock, and looks down at the menu.

He chokes, and tries to cover it with a cough. Push his hips away a little.

But the pretty little monster follows, pushing her hips back to follow his, borderline grinding into him, and he feels it - he feels the dress move.

God, what he would give to just bend down, spread her open, and stare -

“We’ll take three bottles of Casa Migos, three bottles of 1942. A pack of redbulls, water, and seltzer.”

“Are we camping out here?” Jungkook jokes, but she doesn’t reciprocate, just presses against him again. He groans. “Cut it out. We talked about this.”

She pushes off and turns around, creates some space between them. Jungkook wants to thank her as she glares him down.

“And what did I do exactly?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. “Follow you as you dragged me to the bar, slammed me against it and rubbed your dick against my ass? Have you noticed that you’re the only that initiates contact around here? I’m fine minding my own business-”

“You’re missing some of the context-”

“And what’s the context? That you couldn’t stand to see me touching Jimin?”

Jungkook swallows.

“Don’t blame you. He’s a pretty boy. I wish he’d let me…” She starts before staring off and letting out a fat sigh in what sounds to be the name of boredom.

“When I have fun,” she says, eyes widening a little in emphasis before narrowing, “I have fun.”

Someone opens a fridge beneath the bar. The tiny hint of breeze carries her perfume - mostly rubbed off on her subway trip - a direct shot to his nostril. Tonka, pepper, something flowery.

And then some of her..

“So, if you don’t want us to touch each other for fun, then leave me alone.”

Ouch.

“I don’t have fun often. I’m not always in the mood.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he believes that.

“So, when I want to have fun, I don’t like it when people try to stop me, or try to force me into some serious, tense situation.”

Oh.

“It makes me mean. I don’t know why. I just don’t like it.”

Jungkook steps off completely, letting go of his grip on the counter. Their tab is open, their orders are in, job is done, they can rejoin the group and forget he ever reacted like that.

He walks back to the table with her, and she seems like she’s over it - over her mood to have fun. She ignores at least five guys on the way back who try to catch her eye, grab at her.

Maybe it doesn’t help that he’s walking behind her, glaring off any interest headed her way with wolf-like stare, all the while trying to appear normal every time she catches a glance at him. But she barely looks at him so it’s not much of an issue.

“We should add that to the Y/N handbook,” he comments before they walk up to their section. “The thing about you and your fun.”

She stops, looks at him. Jungkook can’t read her expression (when can he ever?).

When they join Jimin and Namjoon, it becomes evident that they’ve beaten Y/N and Jungkook to the bottles as the table overflows with a wide variety of them.

“Jimin’s boyfriend sent them over! He said he liked the performance with Y/N!” Namjoon exclaims, two champagne bottles in his hands, tops still foamy.

Y/N, as if they hadn’t just had a little spat, stares at Jungkook until he puts two and two together and holds his hand out for Y/N to hold as she takes the two steps to climb up to the table, her big heels making her a little unsteady. He follows in after her, and isn’t necessarily shocked when she starts pouring out a bottle of tequila into a cup with ice that Namjoon hands her upon sitting.

Jungkook tries to ignore him whispering in her ear, “I thought you looked good, too.”

Tries to ignore Y/n giving his knee a squeeze.

Jungkook follows in after her, sitting right against her, against those mesh lined legs - sandwiching her between himself and Namjoon.

There is a bit of confusion from the other two as she chugs the liquor down and reaches for Namjoon’s full glass, muttering a quick “gimme” before downing that with ease as well, and looking around for her next consumption.

“Uh…”

Jungkook smiles internally at Jimin and Namjoon’s confusion. He’s not that confused because he’s already seen Y/N drink like this that night with the… belt thing…

He blushes and squirms at the memory.

“Boss, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you drink like this,” Namjoon comments, and without looking up, in the middle of concocting her next drink - redbull and vodka, she says:

“It’s fine, Jungkook will take care of me.”

Jimin drops his glass.

“Mazeltov.” Namjoon quips, eyes just as wide as Jimin’s

Silence overtakes again.

“Let’s go dance while they clean this up.” Y/N offers.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself. Maybe if Jimin and Namjoon weren’t around, he’d be less lost on where to put his hands, but their aghast looks make him feel like a seal. A penguin. He’s two stepping out of respect and fear.

Y/N, with a drink in her hand, is a really good dancer.

Not like technically, but she’s just mastered this effortlessly cool, sexy way of moving her body to any given song. It feels algorithmic, but it looks so fun.

Jungkook wants to move with it, but alas, the looks.

She suddenly stops, stomping her foot down a little as she looks at the littler of men in front of her.

“Why does no one want to dance?!”

And with a true stab to the back, Namjoon jumps forward like it’s nobody’s business.

“Lead the way, boss.” He says, eyes twinkling and smile wide.

No, Jungkook is going to kill him. For sure. He has to.

“I call Jungkook!” Jimin shrieks, wrapping his hands around his neck, looking up at the DJ booth longingly while his boyfriend, DJ V-vibes, looks back into a booth full of scantily clad women, his own shirt off and away in the crowd. “Maybe it’ll make him jealous if it’s with a guy.”

Jungkook takes a step back from the Namjoon-Y/N torture to look down at Jimin, who looks a little heartbroken. His brother in Christ. So they shall suffer together.

“I’m sorry, Jimin, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” He comments, kissing the boy’s forehead, making him push at his chest in disgust immediately after. Jungkook laughs, glad for the touch of humor as the potential of what Namjoon and Y/N are doing burns in the back of his head. He refuses to look.

“Let’s go show him.” Jimin says, eyes twinkling.

He situates them next to Namjoon and Y/N (Jungkook still refuses to look) and though Jungkook is a tad bit shy about it, he dances with Jimin just fine, even moves him around a bit, making it a point to hold him close when his boyfriend glances down.

“You’re the best, Jungkook!” Jimin praises into his ear, giggling endlessly. “But you gotta loosen up, you know.”

Jungkook shakes his head. Jimin has no idea. He finally looks up at the duo next to them, and he’s about ready to grab a glass from the bar, smash it to a point, and march up to Namjoon with it.

He towers over Y/N as they face each other, his hands resting just - and Jungkook cannot emphasize this enough, it’s like maybe a millimeter off from it - above her ass. Not quite at her hip bones, where it would have been somewhat respectful, but much lower, touches away from her curves.

And inadvertently, perhaps, they do graze those curves and other places on Y/N’s body as she opts to jump to V-vibes’s change in tempo - a high build up house number.

She’s laughing, smiling, jumping, throwing her hair around, and she looks so carefree, and Namjoon just stands there, hops lightly along and tries to hold her steady, and for what Jungkook seethes.

Let the girl jump.

“Seriously, relax, Jungkook,” Jimin says, right into his ear so Jungkook doesn’t miss a single syllable. “You know, Y/N’s jealousy might be as blind as yours.”

Jungkook’s ears perk up at that for sure and he faces Jimin with an interested tilt to his brows.

“Good boy,” Jimin praises, his own eyes flickering up towards V-vibes. “Now, follow my lead. No questions.”

Fair enough, Jungkook thinks, and doesn’t think twice when Jimin pulls him in for a kiss. He kisses back, lets Jimin hold onto his waist as his own hands hover, a little unsure.

Just how much did he drink tonight?

Before Jimin can take in any further, Y/N’s heels slam into place and get their attention.

They pull off rather wantonly, and Jungkook’s inebriation, and Jimin’s work, melts off that tedious mask he always keeps on.

Y/N sees it - Jungkook has that evil look on.

She doesn’t say anything, just gets off of Namjoon and marches off.

Namjoon backs down as if he expected nothing from the dance and moves over to shimmy with Jimin, who is still giggly from the kiss. Namjoon shoots a look at Jungkook that’s hard to read as Jungkook stares down in the direction of Y/N’s steps.

Maybe something along the lines of how-did-that-make-you-feel, which is doubly coupled by Jimin’s soft gaze reading, most likely, go-get-your-girl.

And he does. Why wouldn’t he?

God, sometimes he hates this newfound morality that’s found him. Why does he try? What good is it to be good? This world - there is too much money in it, too many weirdos. Something weird, twisted, and sick happens, every time. It’s bound to.

So, why is he fighting? Why is he pouting? Why is he dragging himself around this club like a desperate little puppy?

Why is he holding himself back from fucking Y/N into his sheets for three weeks straight, or until she’s had it and puts in her two week notice? Why doesn’t he hire a bunch of burnt out big law associates begging, banging at his door? Use them, abuse them, and sweat shop their earnings into his pocket and live a good, fat, happy life.

Why doesn’t he?

He finds Y/N in some random man’s arms, and he doesn’t even think twice before ripping her away, dragging her towards the bathrooms.

Surprisingly, she fights him. Pissed and heels dragging and tagging on the floor, leaning endlessly away from him as he drags her away from the music, the alcohol, the crowds, and into the secluded hallway full of gender neutral bathrooms.

“Let go of me!” She hisses through gritted teeth, trying with all her might to pull her wrist out of his cuffed, tight hold. “This is kidnapping - false imprisonment!

He thanks god for the cosmopolitan wealth that’s flooded the city in the last ten years. He praises Jesus for the sacrilege of the rich in turning away from a struggling woman, and the willingness of the butler to take the crisp five hundred bills Jungkook shoves at him in exchange for letting the duo into one of those bathrooms, standing in front of it surreptitiously for any passerbys.

“This one is out of service.”

Jungkook wastes no time once that door shuts and locks.

He has her against the wall, hands holding her face steady and hips digging confidently into hers as he kisses her like he got direct permission from God.

She doesn’t kiss back, grunts and tries to kick him off, and succeeds for a second, but he’s relentless, back on her hot body within seconds, lips running down the length of her neck before finding her jugular, making her squirm, hands helplessly trying to push at his chest.

“It’s no use,” he murmurs into her skin, hands coming up to grab her wrists, steadying her hands against the wall. He licks the back of her ear, and she moans like she’s made for it, chin tilting up the tiniest bit, and her center drags against the denim bulge that presses needy against her.

“Let me go,” she jeers, hands now struggling against his grip, but he opts to lick the same spot, a little slower, and digs his hips up against her, a little harder.

Her face shifts, changes, and her mouth instead opens into a “...please.”

She shakes her head, tries to straighten out her thoughts, and he laughs at her.

“No use, Y/N.” He whispers again, eyes looking straight into hers - and for the first time - she looks at him, deer in the headlights.

Absolutely terrified.

Something disgusting in him surfaces, something not of him.

“What do you want?” he asks, getting her hands into one concise hold in one hand as he moves them above her head, elongating her torso a bit and..

Making that dress ride up the tiniest bit. But as aforementioned, it really only needs to move a centimeter to make a difference.

She purses her lips, twists in his hold a bit, but his hands, and his hip against her, is strong enough to hold her down. Forever, if he wants.

“I want Jimin-” She starts to say, pettiness dripping from her tongue, but he tsks her off before letting a condescending, borderline insulting smile slip onto his face.

His teeth poke through slightly and his eyebrows tilt in fake empathy.

“God, you’re a terrible liar, aren’t you, Y/N?”

He grinds into her, watches her mouth open into a small, helpless gasp.

“You’re so good at so many things,” he praises, staring down at their hips as he repeats the movement, gaze shooting up when she moans, her composure falling apart. He cracks another smile. “But you’re no good at lying, pretty girl.”

He lets go of her hands. She doesn’t try to run.

He needs this. He knows how awful he’s being right now, but you have to understand, he needs this. He thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t have it.

“On your knees.” he orders, and his heart skips a beat when her eyes glance down to his belt.

He has different plans, but likes the callback. Likes her memory for remembering that.

He can see internal tension on her face, eyes flickering - for the first time, unsure of where to land - as she decides between obedience and resistance.

He wonders, is she looking for the safest choice? Or just trying to decide which she wants?

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he whispers, a small encouragement, and she takes it.

Slowly lowers her knees down in defeat, but her avoidant gaze seems to be where rebellion sinks and finds shelter in.

He hums at the sight of it, hand reaching down to her chin, to lift her face back up to his. She still doesn’t catch his eyes.

“Look at me.”

She does.

His lips twitch, and his fingers graze her jaw, drag up to her bottom lip. He looks into her eyes as he tugs at the flesh ever so softly with his index and middle finger.

Her eyes harden, her brows start to furrow.

His gaze mirrors.

“Open.” He demands, simple.

She purses her lips, thinks, then shakes her head, holding his gaze steady.

But he sees it, still there, still feeding him - the fear.

“I said, open.”

She finally does, barely, but it's enough for him to push the two fingers past the opening, the pads exploring the expanse of her tongue, immediately pressing down on the soft flesh.

He moans, her gaze softens.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasps out, and he helplessly grabs his member through his jeans with his other hand, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tries. He really does his best to leash that monster. To dull the desire.

But the second his eyes open, he’s ruined.

It’s helpless.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move a muscle as he unzips his pants, and pulls himself out - hard and proud.

The head, dying for contact, pushes past that opening, and he praises her for letting that jaw go slack for him.

She tries closing her eyes, he lightly slaps her cheek. Her eyes go infinitely darker.

“I need you to look at me,” he states, plainly before thrusting further into her mouth, going as far as she’ll let him, and he’s not surprised that’s it not much, but he’s surprised at how good it feels.

How messy it gets.

He’s never had a blowjob feel so… ethereal, magical. Her mouth wraps around him like a dream - the noises, the wetness, her little hums and gasps - it’s like an acid trip.

He praises her, pulls off, and kisses her like it’s nothing.

And she’s so pliant, so wanton - mouth opening every single time, ready to let his tongue do whatever it wants.

“I’m going to cum in your mouth,” he says, with no room for questions.

If she objects, she doesn’t tell him, and he’s back in her mouth in no time. Before he can grab a hold of himself, her hands take its place, and that’s enough.

Her trying to get him off, for those two seconds, those pumps, is enough.

He holds her head down, almost unwittingly, as his orgasm hits him. He feels his semen splosh around her mouth, feels her gag, feels her try to pull away, but like, he said -

It’s helpless.

He holds her still until he’s done, and when he pulls out, he knows for sure she’s going to try to spit.

So, he doesn’t let her. He immediately pulls her to her feet, presses her against the wall and kisses the cum into her mouth, down her throat.

She tries pushing at him, resisting, but he’s got her down, hand moving her face in whatever direction he wants as he kisses every inch, curve of her mouth.

He’s insane. He’s officially lost it.

When he pulls away, he regrets not taking art classes.

He could paint that vision for the rest of his life - that might just be his true calling.

She looks just as out of her mind. She takes maybe a breath and a half in before grabbing at his collar and trying to pull him back in for a kiss. But he stops her.

Takes a step back, reaches for his phone.

“Hear me out,” he starts, but she’s immediately wary.

“Just come back and kiss me, please-”

“I want a picture.”

“Oh.”

She stops, moves off of the wall to take a look at her face in the mirror before leaning back against the wall.

“Oh.”

Jungkook nods.

“Yeah,” he confirms.

“I look good.”

He chokes a little.

“I’ll never ask for anything ever again. I’ll delete it - delete myself - if you ever asked. Immediately, no questions.”

She doesn’t look like she’s looking for persuasion, just a reason.

Instead, she puts out a feeler - a quid pro quo.

“What do I get?”

Jungkook’s mouth dries.

“W-What do you want?”

He has never regretted anything more than his life.

“I’ll figure it out. Just take your picture.”

He doesn’t let the opportunity slip. Y/n asks how she should pose. He says that she shouldn’t.

So she doesn’t.

He leans into kiss her one last time, wanting her mouth covered in his saliva before he gets the perfect shot - he feels like a director, a photographer.

He’s never kissed someone who is this pliant, this willing…

He pulls off with a comical pop, eyes glazed over, and Y/N cracks out into a little giggle at his reaction, and he does it. Takes the picture. Y/N, with eyes glistening, lips glowing and red, and little bite marks crawling up her neck.

She leaves the bathroom first. He follows shortly after, only to find that she’s fled home.

Probably for the best, he thinks. He’s not sure what would become of him if she let him take her home.

That gratitude lasts until she calls in sick the next week.

“She does indeed get sick every now and then. Really sick actually. Like everyone else.” Jimin reassures him, when he looks a little panicked at the announcement.

Jungkook breathes a little easier, but he’s still plagued by the idea that it’s somehow his fault.

He sends her a quick email telling her to turn her laptop off before taking over her assignments for the day, using the panic and the anxiety in his chest to fuel him to peak productivity.

Jimin comes in with a mug of coffee, then refills, every now and then, and Namjoon periodically stops by to jot down bouts of tasks that Jungkook assigns to him.

The next day, his panic grows deeper. He gets to obsessing, wondering, how sick is she? Is she really sick? Like really, really sick? Should he call? Would it be inappropriate to call?

By 2 p.m. Wednesday, he is at her apartment, flowers in one hand and her favorite pho in the other (Jimin tells him where to pick it up from).

She answers the door, adorned in a black slip, covered by a matching thin robe - not conservative, but not skimpy. Still a nightmare for poor Jungkook and his genuinely pure intentions.

He just wanted to make sure she was okay.

“I’m going to sue Jimin for giving you my address.”

He laughs awkwardly and squeezes in through the doorway past her, too impatient and stressed out in the hallway to wait for her to move over, inviting him in.

“Why is Jimin always to blame?”

He regrets saying that. She slams the door shut and glares at him and the contents he drops all over her house. Flowers on her glass coffee table, pho resting on her white carpet in its take out bag.

Her cheeks burn red with annoyance.

She also has no makeup on, and Jungkook notices that her face is a little paler than she lets on, her features a little less full, less intimidating.

Prettier, he thinks, without makeup.

“You’re right,” she chastises. “This is your fault. You brought yourself here. Probably harassed Jimin for the address to make him give it up.”

“Hey, Jimin, where does Y/N live-”

“345 Park Way Plaza. Right across the bridge.”

“Right,” he mutters, wipes his sweaty hands on his dress pants. “Well, I just wanted to see that you were okay, so…”

“Why do you have a boner?”

His eyes widen, his eyes drop, and sure enough-

He grabs his head, shakes it back and forth.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

She laughs. Like that first day. During the interview.

He drops his hands, laughs a little with her.

“Do you want to split this?” she asks, holding the pho bag up towards him.

He nods. “If you don’t mind.”

She heats it up into two bowls, makes him sit at the dining table with her despite his insistence that he’s okay standing. He just doesn’t want to get sick (a worse boner), but he’s kind of glad of her persuasion. It feels warm sitting at the table with her. Cozy.

And Jungkook likes to talk when he’s cozy.

“The other day, at Jimin’s birthday thing…” he starts, blushing a little at his soup as he gets out the premise. He feels her stare. “You said something.”

“Yeah?”

“You said,” he looks up for a second, trying to see where her head is at. No idea, back to the noodles, he continues, “You don’t like it when someone stops you from trying to have fun. When you’re trying to have fun.”

“Uhhuh.”

“Is that one of those different feelings you get?”

She pushes a soup spoon around the rim of her bowl, eyes entrenched in thought.

“Yeah. It is. I get that one a lot.”

He nods, processes her answer.

“Is that how that guy made you feel?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed slightly as if trying to mask his fear in asking the question. He reluctantly looks at her, jaw slightly tense, tongue poking a rice noodle against his cheek. “The dead one.”

She stabs her chopsticks down into a meatball.

“Sorry.”

Her jaw similarly tenses, but she seems okay after a long, deep breath.

“No. Not at all. I never felt that way towards him. He could stop my fun all he wanted.”

He’s a little shocked. He thought he had the narrative down. He was convinced.

The dead guy was into her, she was using him for something (social credit?), and he eventually lost his mind because Y/N was cruel and insane- I mean, is that not what was happening to him right now?

Did she maybe just not want to admit to her criminology in front of her next victim?

He hated himself for thinking like this, but then again, after everything he had been through, he felt justified in being curious. They had only known each other for half a year. They had gotten too close. He didn’t need a repeat of Minji’s betrayal.

He wasn’t wrong for trying to protect himself.

“How did you feel then?”

She hears the accusation in his tone, as if he’s ready to catch her in a lie - in an impossibility. She knows it - he thinks her incapable of feeling anything else towards that man other than apathy.

“Are you interested in the truth or the myth?”

He chuckles.

“What does that mean?”

She tilts her head, reaches for her water.

“I think you’re into me.”

He hesitates. Then nods.

“Obviously.”

She sips her water, eyes on fire.

“I think you’re into how scary I am.”

He doesn’t have an answer for her.

“Do you want to keep being scared, or do you want to know me?”

He has been with women so emotional they could fill pools with their tears at how deeply they feel things. He has been emotional himself, in the sewers of depression. He has met authors, creatives - truly intuitive souls.

Yet no one has ever asked him a question so observant, so emotionally intelligent.

“I’m not sure. That’s the honest answer.”

“Do you want me to choose for you?”

So, it’s like a game.

He nods.

“What do I get for this? For sharing myself with you?”

Jungkook tries to brush off the weight of that.

“You’re really wracking up those favors, don’t you think?” Her eyes don’t share in his amusement. “Fine, what do you want?”

Her eyes glimmer.

“That’s a surprise.”

His collar tightens. He tenses his shoulders, puts his cutlery down.

She smiles a little, gets out of her seat and grabs his arm, dragging him out of his chair and to a room towards the back of her apartment - a little movie room.

Nothing but the white light of the projector, a cozy sectional outlining the parameters of the wall.

She leaves him standing in the middle and marches down to sit on the couch, legs sprawled to one side, her night dress pulling around at her bodice in the most delicious way imaginable.

“What are we doing?” he asks, suddenly feeling exposed, scared in the isolated room.

She smiles, bites down onto her lip as if to contain herself.

“You get to ask questions, if you want. If I answer, you strip. Simple.”

He smiles, cocky and happy with the arrangement.

“You trying to see me naked, Y/L/N?”

She doesn’t answer, just stares.

“I’ll give you this one for free.” He offers, starts to unbutton his top.

She watches, tongue licking over where she was just biting, catching a drop of blood on its way down.

He wants to laugh, wants to scream as he peels it off, tosses it in her direction, lets her watch his muscles settle.

He hit abs this morning. Thank Jesus.

He hopes that as her eyes drag over every inch he’s bared that she thinks about him holding her down, overpowering her in that bathroom. Because that’s what he’s thinking of as he tries to wrack his brain for the perfect question to ask her, but it feels impossible because there is so much.

He is in a constant state of curiosity about her.

So, he just picks up where they left off.

“How did you feel about him, then? That guy? If you didn’t hate him for ruining your fun, then what?”

“His name was Eunwoo. You can call him that.”

He raises his brow - doesn’t count. That wasn’t his question.

“I felt, I don’t know, the opposite of that. He was my fun. My, uh, first fun. Ever.”

Oh.

That answer feels large enough for him to justify taking off his pants - she’s earned it.

Her eyes drop down to his member, without shame, and as if she wasn’t just talking about her dead ex lover, she seems fixated and enticed enough to answer anything he’d ask.

He tries to focus on the next question, but how is he supposed to, when she looks this hungry, and he has just the right cure?

“How did he feel about you?”

Her gaze flickers up to his eyes. She suddenly burns, turns inward. Shrinks without shrinking. He watches it happen.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you being honest?”

She thinks a little harder, face concentrated, troubled.

“He said he loved me. I didn’t believe him. He had fun with a lot of other people. Spent time with a lot of people, but still. I would have been okay, uh, I don’t know, just spending forever with him-”

Jungkook cuts her off, he has to. He takes off a sock, moves onto the next question.

“Did you ever ask him not to have fun with other people?”

She shakes her head. He ditches the next sock.

“What happened with the - You know the - well, Jimin told me -”

“I didn’t tell him. Didn’t think he’d care.”

“But he cared?”

She doesn’t call out the fact that he doesn’t strip any further than he already has. Seems to appreciate the weight of the moment.

They feel so far apart in this room.

“Yeah,” she said, voice cracking a little, and she tried hard to hide it behind a cough, an adjustment of her body, poking at one of her toes. “A lot, apparently.”

He doesn’t know what to do but to watch her slumped body from a distance.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember the day his parents sent the roses?”

“You mean the day you tied up my hands with your belt-”

He sighs, fingers to his brow.

“Yeah, yeah, but before that. When I hugged you.”

She stops.

“Uhhuh. Why?”

“Did you like that?”

She looks around, shy again.

He takes a little more initiative.

“If I hugged you again,” he offers, taking a step closer. “Would you like that?”

She shrugs. He smiles. Beckons her over.

She stands up obediently and walks over - slow and tested.

When she’s within arm’s reach, he pulls her in, grabs her tight, doesn’t mind her looser hold on him back.

She melts into his embrace soon enough.

“Now, imagine if we did this lying down.”

So, they try.

He drags them over to Y/N’s bedroom. One wall is covered in bookshelves, covered in books. In front of the bookshelves are additional piles, more heaps of books.

There is a desk - a simple writer’s desk facing her window which faces one of the expansive parks in the city. It’s covered in journals, notebooks, pens, notepads.

It doesn’t all seem to be legal stuff- in fact, most of the books on the wall are psychology books: How to Evoke Social Comfort; Making Friends 101; The Human Psyche for Dummies; The Three Rules to Contentment.

There are even more books on philosophy, religion - ancient and organized alike. There are some books in what appears to be Greek, Italian, even some Latin - classics.

“Can you speak-”

“I understand enough to read.” she cuts him off curtly.

“You got a lot going on in that head, don’t you, Ms. Y/L/N?”

Her bed looks untouched, unused, and when he sits down on the edge, it feels like no one has ever slept on this mattress.

He doesn’t question it for the time being and just softly holds onto her hands, floating her over in between his legs.

“Thank you for sharing all of that with me,” he whispers, looking softly into her eyes as he kisses the corner of her mouth, watching her wriggle a bit in his hold. “For letting me hold you.”

She really blushes now, it even hits her chest a bit, making her decollete glow a soft pink.

His fingers brush the skin as if it belongs to him, eyes watching goosebumps raise in his fingers’ wake.

“How do I make you feel?”

She gulps. Tries to think of an escape.

“Are we still playing the game?”

He smiles, clever. He doesn’t realize that he’s been holding her jaw, slowly stroking it with his thumb. He chuckles a little.

“Sure, if you want.”

She bites onto a particularly tortured corner of her lip, eyes shy and wide before they close, and he follows suit, letting her close the distance to his lips.

He immediately moans into the kiss, pulls her in close by the small of her back. She immediately curls into him, purrs at the weight of his hand on her back.

An absolute kitten.

He drags her over the bed, but instead of mounting her, he just pulls her into his chest, hugs her strong like before.

She doesn’t resist the hold, just takes a second to get comfortable.

They settle on Jungkook on his back, with Y/N’s head on his chest, curled into his side. Her fingers tap against his ribs, and he tries hard to fight the tickles it sends down his spine because he’s oh so scared of startling her.

“You don’t trust people very quickly, do you?” he asks, bravely brushing a loose curl out of her face. She stares up at him - she hasn’t stopped staring at him. He doesn’t mind.

“No.” She answers quietly, fingernail lightly scratching his abdomen. She digs it in a little. He fights the yelp, and wants her to keep playing.

“You know that doesn’t mean that sex is the only thing that feels good. It just means everything else takes a little longer to feel good.”

His fingers trace light circles on her arms as he speaks, and she basically purrs into him, affirming his statement.

“Sometimes, you have to trust someone to enjoy their presence.” He continues, enjoying this little lecture he’s giving her.

He’s not sure if she’s listening.

“Their smell.” his nose digs into her hair, he climbs on top of her.

She wriggles a bit, breathes heavily.

He has some of his body weight on her, not being shy about crushing her down, but she seems to like it.

“Their heat.”

He pecks her lips. She stares up at him, whole body pinned down.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, pecking her cheek, her forehead. She pushes him away. Her face is more serious than before.

“How do you feel about me?” She asks, not quite looking at him when she does.

It’s his turn to be clever now.

“Are you going to strip if I tell you?”

“I’ll strip regardless.”

He laughs, laughs so insanely loud. She smiles. She feels that she has her answer.

[maladaptivejeon]

𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 (𝕡𝕥. 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣)

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

summary: lawyer!au where burned out attorney Jeon Jungkook starts his own barely-functioning firm and accidentally hires an even bigger problem themes: oh brother, fastest slow burn imaginable; unhinged workplace dynamics; “what is wrong with you” x “no seriously, what is wrong with you” energy; chaotic coworker ensemble; blurred professional/personal boundaries; power imbalances; questionable coping mechanisms; dark humor; emotional repression series warnings: mdni! explicit content, workplace power dynamics, toxic coping mechanisms, degradation/humiliation themes, dom/sub undertones, restraint/bondage (handcuffs etc), threesome-ish situations, feetplay, s*xual tension tied to control/instability, messy consent-adjacent dynamics, s*bstance use, dark themes intertwined with s*xual content wc: ~14k(chapter total)/~70k (series total) a/n: (tg: @mikrokookiex @prxdajeon @bjoriis @somehowukook) sorry for the spam ~ Part Four ~

He didn’t go into work for a full week after that.

Didn’t call in, didn’t check his calendar, his emails - let his phone ring on. He decided it was time to relapse into some bad patterns - hit a little refresh, come out a little stronger.

He had tried the nice Jungkook bit - the not being a horrendous human being thing. Where had it gotten him? An office full of people who had zero respect for him - who pushed him around, treated him like a joke.

In fact, everyone treated him like a joke. Why had he even accepted this as his reality in the first place? Why had he downplayed his revenge, his ambitions?

He could think about that later. For now, he took the week to remind himself exactly who he was. 

First things first, he had to get Y/N out of her system - that was crucial. It was the end all be all. He called over an old hook up or two, and called his old dealers, too, in case anything went south. And it did, both times. But with the help of a little blue pill and a dime bag he portioned out for the week, he fucked the shit out of those girls. They were enthralled - they hadn’t met this side of Jungkook yet, and he felt good after each session - alternated between them, refusing to spend a single night alone.

By Wednesday, he decided that it was time to take things to the next level – corporate clients.

He had enough of the charity cases, the non-profits - they had proved themselves in court. They were ready for the big stuff. He called some of his old contacts for an all out evening - michelin star dinner, followed by award winning cocktails at a sexy lounge, and for whoever could hang, the best gentleman’s club in the city where they could talk real business.

Jimin sounded appalled over the phone when Jungkook asked him to make the reservations.

“You cannot be serious - the Taj Mahal? What clients are you taking to the Taj Mahal?”

“Foreign LLC members with big money cash to move around, Jimin - do you want a raise this year or not?”

Jimin ultimately made all of the reservations, even convinced Jungkook to change one of the spots to something more hip, a little more palatable to his taste.

“By the way, any updates on the whole Y/N situation?” Jimin prodded before he could end the call. In an immediate flash of fury, Jungkook hung up without answering, hoping Jimin got the message to never bring up the topic again. 

The outing went great, by Thursday morning, they had all been retained to the firm. He got a stern email from Y/N on Friday morning. 

“Not sure if you’re going to need help on those corporate matters, but not my forte. You should look into hiring someone for it.”

Jungkook took that for the obvious threat that it was. He went out drinking that night, fucked both girls at the same time, delighted that they let him. 

On the cab ride back home, Minji called him again - 1:30 am. 

He pondered, felt no panic, and picked up. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

His voice was molasses over the phone.

—

Y/N’s world turned upside down in a matter of two months. 

It had almost been a full year of Jungkook starting the firm and bringing everyone on (he took credit for that now - bringing Jimin and Namjoon on). As Jungkook went on his downward spiral back up to his glory days of being the most vicious litigator in the city, Y/N retreated further and further into her office, dodging his attempts to give her assignments with the new corporate clients because they need representation, too, you know and delving further and further into singling herself out for her own cases - working on them alone. 

There was a time, maybe somewhere between Jungkook’s first panic attack and the horrid night where Y/N basically kicked him out of bed, that Y/N had started to seek him out, subtly. Catching his attention as he passed by her office, grabbing him when he was by the copier, to get his thoughts on something. He could tell that she was starting to think that he was smart.

She clearly didn’t before then, and clearly didn’t now. She did her very best to keep her work away from his eyes, his engagement - always fearing the potential of getting dragged into some corporate team work that she wanted no part of. 

Oh, yeah, because they were a team now, forgot to mention that bit. 

Minji and Jungkook were back together, and what better reason to bring Minji on as a partner, if only to use all of her dad’s connections to the big money financiers in town.

Though she wasn’t an amazing attorney, she brought big, fat, rich clients, and shot Jeon & Associates (they had officially named the firm) through the roof in the region. Jungkook hired two other associates from some big law firms to help Minji out with literally everything since she wasn’t capable of much on her own. 

They did not gel with Namjoon and Jimin. 

Min Yoongi, the transactional associate, raking in the big contracts and deals and running negotiations with Minji on real estate purchases, was simply too crude. Cursed too much, drank to obliteration at work events, always took someone home - twice it was the client. 

Jimin found him to be repulsive, at best. 

The other one - Kim Taehyung - he was just everything you hated in a rich finance type - gaudy watches, too-tight button ups, constant name dropping, mentioning his net worth every five seconds…

Namjoon wanted him dead.

They were huddled into Y/N’s office, officially on the one year mark, on the verge of insanity, trying to get her to care. 

“I think it’s mostly because the guy has a 401k the size of a small college endowment and Namjoon has,” Jimin tried to explain, looking over at Namjoon who was slumped in Y/N’s ultra uncomfy guest chair, “his pokemon cards.”

Jimin finished with a sigh when he realized that Y/n was not going to pay them any mind or take a single second away from the computer screen. 

“Y/N,” he called out gingerly, hand reaching out to wave between her and the monitor. But she just dodged it, moving her head to see through to her screen. “God, this is hopeless.”

“Leave it,” Namjoon gasped out, head thrown back, staring at the ceiling, arms splayed out in full defeat. “She’s not going to talk until she finishes that brief.”

“...and on the oscillatory measure used by the court, its antiquity has been acknowledged by a majority of jurisdictions..” she was muttering under her breath while typing - the number one sign of her being fully, hundred percent dissociated from reality. 

“I haven’t seen her like this in months,” Jimin said, sighing and sitting on Namjoon’s lap, only to get pushed off promptly, barely saving himself from the face plant on the floor. 

“Cut it out. I can’t take one more boyfriend joke from that fucking dumbass-”

“I think he actually thinks we’re dating.” Jimin acknowledges, thinking back to the genuinely concerning comments Taehyung made on the daily in an awful attempt to circumvent whatever homophobia just drenched off of him. “I just know that I could take him down if I figured out his reddit handle.”

“Can you guys please get out of my office?” Y/N seethed, taking a quick break from talking to herself. “My brain is rotting, and I have written this section twice over.”

“Bet Jungkook could help…” Namjoon sang without an ounce of hope in his voice. 

Jimin watched the man pick up his tie and stare at it as if he was moving just to keep his muscles from atrophying. 

The stench of it’s-no-use was heavy in the office since Minji had stepped through those doors. Jimin and Namjoon knew, and communicated frequently in regards to, there being a panacea - a cureall to the hellish turn the office had fallen into. 

They had to get Y/N and Jungkook to get back together. 

Or to just get together, in general. 

That much wasn’t clear - the duo did their best to trace down the couple’s steps pre-firm meltdown. They tried to put it together, tried to fix it a million and one ways over - was it the fact that the Jimin stuff happened? Did something else happen that night? What about before that night? Yes, let’s go back to the beginning. What sparked the chemistry in the first place? Maybe she needs to wear skirts again…

They tried. They spent months trying - trying to schedule after work events, coming up with random crises in cases, trying to boggle up the rooms for hotel bookings…

No use. The two repelled each other like matching side magnets, couldn’t bear to be around each other - they both got snippy, rude, tense, and got super talented at coming up with excuses to leave a room. 

Even Y/N started elaborating on her usual “I’m leaving now.”

Now, it was like she was talking to their old bosses, the ones that they all hated, the ones that didn’t understand Y/N or the fact that her social clock runs out in a matter of minutes. 

The thing was, Jimin and Namjoon didn’t exactly feel seen lately either. Jimin’s glow was dimmed and ridiculed by the new clientele. Namjoon was overlooked and treated like a secretary - never included in the meetings because Jungkook’s new thing was “clients don’t want a paralegal to waste their time.”

In a matter of two months, they had almost come to hate Jungkook. 

Almost. Namjoon was pretty much already there, but Jimin, sometimes lingering late before a date, would see him in his office, looking out the window, eyes etched in worry. 

Sometimes, he would catch Jungkook looking at Y/N, at her hands, at her picked apart fingers, and her increasingly unkempt appearance.

Jimin knew the death knell like his own name. The second things stopped going her way, she started to lose it - lose her order. 

And her order meant everything to her. 

It wouldn’t be long before they would leave this place behind. 

So, that was the overall attitude - one of death and Jungkook’s behavior just looked like some crazy burst of energy before your hamster crashes on his wheel and gets put in a shoebox in the backyard.

Jimin wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. 

“What will you do when she’s gone??”

Jungkook couldn’t see any of this happening. He lived in an alternate universe, where Jimin, Namjoon, and awful, evil Y/N were jealous of him finding his old spark. They lurked and plotted against him, but they needed him. He took their avoidance, their sudden dull in spark to be some sign of authority - they respected him. Feared him. And that’s why they didn’t joke anymore. That’s why they all looked miserable. 

It was great! It was all going according to plan!

And, on top of that, he got his good, normal, back-to-black girl back - his bride to be: Minji. Minji, from a good, rich, wealthy family. Minji with her great connections. Minji with her ski trips, her golf outings, and her normal, normal life with normal friends who invited her to birthday parties and who wanted to meet Jungkook. 

This new, sexy, improved Jungkook. 

Minji, who was usually hard to impress, found herself struggling to keep up with Jungkook in bed. Jungkook became an animal at it - it became all he was fixated on. Minji wasn’t enough, of course, but he didn’t look at what he was doing as cheating because it only ever made him better for her. She was really, arguably, the only beneficiary of him sleeping around as much as he was. 

She affirmed him, affirmed his ways - made him feel like he was on the right track. Her fat ex husband, who was going crazy in the divorce proceedings, also made him feel good about himself. He was like a gajillionaire, and yet Minji somehow still ended up with him (she was mid divorce when she called Jungkook up. Apparently, he had been serially cheating on her. What an asshole. Can you believe there are really people like that out there?). 

His new associates also hyped him up. Every day was dabs, high fives, “that’s sick, sir”... He couldn’t ask for more. Yoongi was great at hooking him up with the ladies, wingmanning, and getting him into the sleaziest spots in town.

Taehyung kept him fresh, on top of his game - the newest designers, the hippest concerts, anything you could picture - Jungkook felt like a recent college grad, still high off his frat days.

Things couldn’t be better! Everything was going amazing!

Well, he couldn’t really sleep anymore. 

But other than that, he couldn’t be happier!

Also, his new corporate clients wanted too much, too fast. They almost always wanted to do something the law wasn’t designed to do, and they were quick to anger. Money was supposed to get them everything by yesterday.

But still, everything was going as good as it could possibly go! Jungkook felt very blessed! Very successful. 

He was taking Viagra daily now. Constantly. Also an insane amount of uppers and downers to measure himself out. 

But at least he could afford his addiction! Things. Were. great. He had it under control. 

Except, he had also started feeling those feelings again - why…

Why am I here? Why am I doing this? Why am I putting this stupid shirt on? Going into the office? Why am I trying? 

Isn’t it… easier.. To stop trying…

To stop pretending..

He’d snap back into it - via pill, fuck, or some crude exchange with his new crew of boys. 

Everything was fine. 

They make it to the year mark. That’s all Jungkook can bring himself to care about. They survived a whole year. He had proved himself. 

Right?

It’s Jimin’s idea to celebrate, surprisingly. He hadn’t been much enthusiastic about group events after the new guys started, but something soft glints in his eye when he goes into Jungkook’s office. 

Jungkook tries to remember the last time Jimin spent more than five minutes in his room. 

“It’ll be fun. Maybe it’ll give everyone a chance to bond.”

“What are we doing exactly?” 

A firm retreat.

A two day affair up in some Mountain resort with nature, food, drinks, and other corporate bodies to mingle with in the apres clubs. 

Within minutes of arriving at the site with everyone dressed in their best winter sports gears, and Minji and Jimin giving each other a run for the “most shit packed for a two day trip” award, Jungkook realized that his biggest takeaway from the weekend would be how good Y/N looks in her skin tight ski suit - 

She was a skier. Shocker. 

“The outfit suits you,” Jimin winked, tapping his hip against hers. She didn’t reciprocate the joy. Y/N tried everything she could to get out of this trip. 

“I’m going to be sick that weekend.” “There are multiple funerals going on that weekend.” “I don’t want to go.”

Jungkook overheard every excuse as Jimin pestered her every day upon her arrival. 

He finally managed to whisper something to her, out of earshot for Jungkook, and that seemed to do it. 

“Fine, but it’s the last time.”

That had left Jungkook with a deep worry. Last time before what?

The worry was going to haunt his entire weekend, he knew that much for sure. It was haunting him now as he watched her prance in the black jumpsuit number - so sleek, so smooth. 

The other guests of the resort were staring. The crew of 20-something finance guys that walked by all gawked at her. She didn’t seem to notice, but Jimin did, and waved lovingly to the men, who laughed and shot winks in their direction.

Jungkook cleared his throat.

“Well, welcome everyone to the Jean & Associates inaugural ski trip-”

“Let’s goooooo..” Yoongi and Taehyung bellowed in unison. Y/N looked like she could throw up.

“I needed the mountain air.” Minji commented, voice just above a murmur. Minji seemed ever convinced that people were listening to her. Listening to her so hard in fact that she never felt the need to speak up. 

“Right, yes, let’s go, and we have a great weekend planned thanks to Jimin-”

“Fuck yeah, JIMINNN!” Jimin, mid wink, dropped the smile on his face as his attention was thwarted from men he wanted to sleep with to men he wanted dead.

“Ok, yes, right, go Jimin! Great! But, like I was saying, this is our first trip, and it’s such a small gesture compared to the grand success you’ve all brought to the firm-”

“Big money!” Yoongi hooted.

“BANDZZ” Taehyung echoed. 

While Jimin and Y/N glared at the obnoxious assholes, Namjoon was staring dead on at Jungkook - face a mix of “why the hell did you drag us here” and “thank you for bringing us here so I can murder these idiots in the woods” and a touch of “what are you doing…”

Jungkook gulped and looked away from him. 

“Ok, well, I’m glad that we can all celebrate together.” He finished curtly before muttering some vague instruction about checking into the rooms. 

“How many did we get?” Taehyung asked, moving past Jimin to stand in front of Y/N and bump his shoulder into hers. “Should we couple up, cutie?”

Y/N stared up at him, didn’t say much, but Jungkook saw it in her eyes. She was plotting murder alongside Namjoon. 

“If we’re coupling up, I call dibs on Y/N.” Yoongi said, joining Taehyung to slap a hand down on her shoulder. 

Her eyes glimmered with something. Jungkook wanted to desperately tell the two men to cut it out because he was pretty sure that Y/n was going to slip cyanide in their drinks if they continued. 

“You two are sharing a room,” Jimin corrected, pulling Y/N back behind him. “Namjoon and I are sharing a room, and Minji and Jungkook.”

“Y/N gets her own room?” Taehyung asked, question directed at Jungkook.

Jungkook shrugged.

“Jimin booked.”

Taehyung scoffed.

“Wow,” he laughed, “I guess you have to blow Jimin to get the hook-up, am I right boss?”

The air ionized. Jungkook was sure of it - an atomic bomb had just gone off in the parking lot of this fuck ass resort.

Before anyone could blow up over the comment - which Jimin and Y/N looked about ready to - Namjoon took the reins.

“Taehyung, which is it? Am I fucking Jimin, or is Y/N?” He asked, half joking, half exasperated. If he was going to have to deal with the constant ridicule, he’d like to at least be able to comprehend what was being alleged.

“Why can’t it be both?” Taehyung asked, more to Yoongi than anyone else.  

“That’s actually surprisingly progressive of you, Taehyung,” Namjoon commented, closing the subject. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Jungkook pulled out the pamphlet from his pocket.

“After check-in…group meditation at heated springs.”

“I’ll pass.” Y/N immediately quipped, grabbing her luggage and getting ready to leave the group to lock herself in her room.

“Nope,” Jimin was quick with his hand on her furred collar, pulling her back.

“Alright, one hour, and then we meet back up here.”

With that, they headed over to their rooms, and Jungkook tried to ignore Taehyung’s insistence on walking down with Y/N, whose room had unfortunately fallen into the same wing as Taehyung and Yoongi, with Jungkook, Jimin, Namjoon, and Minji in the complete opposite wing.

The circumstance didn’t rest easy with Jungkook as he watched the men drool over her body, eyes scanning, the entire way down to the rooms.

So much brewed in him. The fear that they may initiate something, and that Y/N would take them up on it. The fear that even if she initially consented, that they’d force her into something she didn’t want. Then, the flat out fear that they would just do whatever they wanted.

He never had to worry about Jimin or Namjoon doing those things because they wouldn’t. 

But he knew of Yoongi and Taehyung, their spotty manwhorey reputations and bottomless pockets that would get them out of trouble every single time.

He added this to the list of headaches for the weekend.

He needed to fuck something. Fast. 

—

When they showed up for the meditation, Y/N looked like a little fairy. 

She was in a yoga set - black loose, harlem pants that hung low on her hips and a skin tight wrap top that stopped just under her belly button - leaving an inch or two of bare skin exposed.

The smooth of her abdomen to the two dimples on her lower back -  Jungkook watched it all as she sauntered over to the yoga mat next to Taehyung.

He watched her pull her long, wavy strands into a messy top bun, and so did Taehyung - eyes hungry. Jungkook didn’t need to ask himself what he might be picturing. 

A little bit of pride swelled in him, remembering her in the club bathroom.

Then, something else started to swell. Uh oh. 

“Welcome, Jeon & Associates, and thank you for picking our resort for your corporate retreat. Just to get everyone started, let’s do a nice little welcome yoga session, and then have a nice discussion about why you’re all here today.”

Jimin smiled knowingly. He’s been here before. Jungkook squints at him. He wasn’t entirely positive on what the trip involved, but Jimin had mentioned vague “corporate bonding” programs and signed them up for one.

This was not going to end well. 

Y/N, it turns out, is also excellent at yoga.

“We have an expert!” The wellness coach preaches her constantly, on her form, on her stance, on her look of zen reflection. 

On a particularly challenging position, the coach walked over to her to run his hands over the curve of her back.

“You can look at Ms. Y/N over here for the proper position, look at how her back just stretches,” He explains, and Jungkook is about to rip his hands off, and Minji is starting to become way too tuned in to how frustrated Jungkook looks. 

“Oh, I am looking,” Taehyung blurted, winking at Y/N before trying to mimic her position. 

She didn’t smile back, but didn’t chastise him either. She had this look like she was considering him. 

Jungkook was going to lose it. 

“You, sir..” the instructor chastises, looking over at Jungkook who is not even remotely in a position that resembles the right one. “My star pupil, you should help him out.”

“I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.”

The room goes silent, the coach looks intuitive - trying to absorb and distill the sudden energy shift in the room.

“Sorry,” Y/N mutters, not blushing, but carrying a slight bash about herself as she realizes how quickly she replied. “It’s just - he’s my boss. So, I wouldn’t.”

The coach sits himself down next to Y/N’s mat - ready to dig deep into this issue.

“Now, do you mean this physically, or metaphorically?”

Y/N stares at him. Jungkook wants to snort a little - she is not going to entertain that question with an answer.

“Metaphorically, I guess.”

Jungkook chokes a bit. Not only did he not expect her to answer - that was not the answer anyone expected.

Everyone looks a bit taken back, Y/N seems to panic a little.

“Well, obviously, I’ve physically touched him-”

“Obviously?” Minji joins the conversation, arms crossed and brows high in the air.

“Incidentally.” She answers, and then mumbles, as if she’s incapable of lying, “And not incidentally, I guess. But it’s not like we slept together.”

Oh, god.

“What!?”

“Wow, okay, a lot to unpack here. May I mayhaps suggest adding the sexual harassment remediation program to your group package, Mr. Jeon?”

“Might as well.” Jungkook answers, eyes drained of any hope of a peaceful rest of the night. 

Next on the agenda, after Y/N absolutely derailed the last exercise, was to hit the slopes. Once again, the instructor was enamored by Y/N.

“Amazing form, miss. Never seen anything quite like it.”

Y/N didn’t smile, didn’t react. 

“I also bartend downstairs by the way, if you guys swing by after dinner…” he added, quietly and slyly to Y/N before turning to the rest of the group, who looked like their asses were entirely handed to them by the bunny hill. 

Jungkook was never going to let Jimin book another retreat ever again.

The apres wasn’t any better. 

Y/N was getting mauled over by the eyeballs of every man that had one too many drinks, and didn’t know what was good for them. 

The entire group had been split up with Minji, Yoongi and Taehyung in one corner, throwing back warm ciders and catching each other up on the respective gossip of other attorneys they spotted at the retreat. Jungkook was obviously stuck with them, eyeing with sheer jealousy Jimin, Namjoon, and Y/N on the opposite side, throwing back shots and mingling with the ski instructor from before. He was definitely slipping Y/N extra drinks and treats.

She seemed way too into it. 

“Guys, we should join the rest of the group,” Jungkook said, sitting up from the picnic table. “It’s a firm retreat.”

“Ugh, do we have to?” 

“Being around Namjoon makes me feel poor.” Minji scowled, agreeing with Taehyung’s protests. 

“Fine, I’m going over. I’ll be back.”

They couldn’t care less. Great. 

Jungkook finds his way over to the bar, squeezes into a seat in front of the wooden counter next to Jimin, who jumps a little upon noticing him, covering the fright with a weak laugh. 

“Mr. Jeon!” He exclaims, as if to announce (warn) it to Namjoon and Y/N who are racing down their Guinnesses with the bartender refereeing. 

The duo don’t blink, don’t hesitate, and Namjoon gets his down faster. Y/N glares at the quarter of a sip she has left in hers.

“Told ya,” Namjoon comments, reaching over to wipe the foam from her upper lip with his thumb.

Jimin nervously laughs, and again, tries to subtly announce Jungkook’s arrival.

“I bet Mr. Jeon could beat the both of you. Namjoon, what do you say? Another round?” 

Namjoon, eyes flittering over to the lonesome body at the end of the line, drops off the festive smile on his face a bit - a grimace brewing somewhere behind his eyes. 

“I think I’ve had enough,” Namjoon says, pushing his beer glass away, but Jungkook feels like he’s talking about more than just the beer. 

“Right,” Jimin sighs, shoots an apologetic look over to Jungkook but before he can actually say sorry, Namjoon is dragging his friends away from the bar. 

“We should probably go get ready for dinner.” He excuses, his eyes cold and strange as he looks at Jungkook for permission.

“Yeah, yeah - of course, just-” 

But before he can finish his sentence, the trio is basically skipping away from him. 

Minji finds him after that, arms wrapped around his waist as he sulks in the bar chair. 

“Let’s go back to the room.”

“Yeah, let’s.”

Back at the room, Jungkook fucks the shit out of Minji for a good ten minutes before giving up - he can’t do it. Can’t come. He’s hard. He’s frustrated, but he cannot get there. 

“God, you’re insatiable.” Minji plants a wet kiss on his mouth before wearing the most boring dress she can possibly put on for dinner. 

The group meets at the center of the different wings, first the quartet of Jimin and Namjoon, Minji and Jungkook- a mess of business casual, evening sexy, and resentment. 

“You smell good, Boss,” Namjoon comments, briefly as they’re walking down. Minji is sauntering a bit behind on her phone. Jungkook can’t bring himself to care about the fact that she’s gotten very secretive about her texts lately. “Different.”

“Thanks, it’s a new scent from Minji.” He answered, testing out the waters for a conversation. “I hope you guys had fun today…”

Namjoon doesn’t look at him, puts his hands in his pockets.

“We’re only having as much fun as you are, Boss, so…” He clicks his tongue. “You let me know - are we having fun?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, couldn’t answer - 

Because in walks in his diamond sword, his evergreen corruption - Y/N, in the most spectacular black dress Jungkook has ever seen. 

Her hair is blown out, a bit bigger than she usually wears it - and unconfined. 

It’s loose and she tosses to the side as she struts in her heeled knee high boots. Her dress is skin tight - a thick, black material that looks soft but structured. 

It outlines her bodice, but ends just above her knees - long enough to be deemed conservative if not for the fact that you could make out the exact curve of her hips.

It was a high neck, too, so really nothing could be said of how appropriate it was, but then again - 

The black stockings. 

Not that he could see much between the dress and the boots, but god.

God, why? 

To add to the torture, Yoongi and Taehyung appear behind her with pleased faces - thirsty dog eyes. 

Taehyung is directly behind Y/N, hand to the small of her back as he guides her through the hall, whispering something into her ear, which she rolls her eyes at.

Yoongi is a little further behind, but he’s walking behind Y/N like she’s the only glass of water in his pilgrimage through the desert.

Eyes are scanning her up and down, and Jungkook can see the man running scenarios in his head, wide awake.

“Hot mama,” Jimin shouted, laughing a little once he saw Y/N’s face brighten at the sight of them. 

Namjoon whistled as she walked a little faster to join her boys. 

As she crossed the threshold, her shoulders seemed to relax, her eyes seemed to soften. 

Namjoon immediately had an arm around her waist, and Jimin immediately got to fixing around her hair, more like playing with it. 

“Thought I’d look nice for my first firm retreat.” She said with a small smile, and Jimin patted her on the head. 

“Good girl,” He praised, and Jungkook tried desperately to add these little clues together. Why did she need to dress nice? This was her first firm retreat? Then, why all the talk about ‘this is the last time…’

“We should head down. Reservation is in ten.” Jungkook said with a rough clear of his throat. 

Y/N finally looked at him, eyes drained of any plausible idea of interest. She looked through him. 

“Minji, you look great,” She said instead, taking in the older woman’s attire, her own set of curves.

Jungkook didn’t think there was much to stare at, but Y/N seemed to be of the opposite mind. She looked like she was ready to drink Minji in. 

“Aw, thanks, Y/N.” Minji squealed, jumping out from behind Jungkook to grab the other girl’s arms. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sudden touch. Jungkook wanted to laugh, oh she was not ready. “I should get you connected with my sales associate at Bergdorf’s.”

Y/N scowled.

“I don’t shop there…” 

Minji had already decided on making her her buddy for the night, so in complete ignorance of Y/N’s likely sexual advance, Minji took it as the green light to link arms with her and lead the group down to their dinner reservation.

The girls sat on either side of him during the dinner. 

Y/N clearly did not want to, but Minji insisted, pushing her down into the seat between Jungkook and Taehyung, separating her clean away from Jimin and Namjoon, who were two seats over in the circular table, right after Yoongi. 

Minji sat on the other side of Jungkook, and didn’t seem to care much for the tense look on Jungkook’s face as Y/N’s shoulder brushed his.

“Now that I have you two together, you guys can catch me up on how Kookie was doing while I was gone,” something evil shone in her eyes.

Y/N tried to retort, but she was interrupted by a whisper from Taehyung, which made her twitch a bit from the sudden breath in her ear, and it didn’t help that her eyes then seemed to be distracted by some loud table right across from them.

“I have just always wondered,” Minji continued, reaching over Jungkook who she basically slapped down on the face as she grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her attention back to her, “how he fared for those miserable 12 months.”

“I, uh, didn’t know-”

Y/N is interrupted by Yoongi this time, who leans back to ask her if she could pass the pitcher of water.

“It’s right by you, pretty, actually,” he suddenly opts to get out of his seat, standing behind Y/N with a light but suggestive touch on the shoulder, just where the strap of her dress starts to dip into a deep opening in her back.

She jolts a little from the touch as Yoongi grabs the water. 

“I mean, we spent every day together, so it was hard to be apart for as long as we were-”

Minji continued and just then Taehyung whispered into Y/N’s ear again, this time, moving the hair off her shoulder to get closer.

She twitched again, eyes wide, and cheeks red, and Jimin had finally caught onto the assault and made a move to get out of his chair but Jungkook beat him to it.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, getting the incessant freaks sitting next to him to stop. Stop their hands, their tongues, their mouths, and Y/N let out a big sigh. “Let’s go pick out some bottles of wine! You’re good at that sort of thing.”

“Why would you think that-”

“Yeah, Y/N, take a little walk to the bottles. Get some air.” Jimin cut her off, shooting her a warning look.

A warning for what?

Jungkook didn’t care. He grabbed Y/N’s wrist and left with her, not even remotely in the direction of the wine bottles.

Instead, with her pliant and willing to follow him if only to escape the stress of the table, he dragged her over to a vacant hallway - a walking passage made of floor to ceiling windows where the shadow of the trees gave way to some much needed privacy. 

Y/N stood there, in the hall, away from the noise of the restaurant, and stared at Jungkook without any words.

“Are you okay?” 

She kept staring.

“Is Taehyung… bothering you?” 

She tilted her head.

“I can tell him to stop. Fire him.”

She smiled.

“And why would you do that…” She asked, an innocent murmury tone, “When you went through all that trouble to hire him in the first place?”

His cheeks burned a little. 

“That’s not - I’m not -”

“You ruined it, Mr. Jeon.” She said.

So plainly. 

Jungkook swallowed, eyes still on hers but dying to look elsewhere. She was burning him with those eyes. 

“W-What-” 

“Your shirt…” She said, and he breathed a little easier, looking down at the cream button up he had on. 

There was a tiny blood stain on the collar from his hurried shave.

“Ah, that’s-”

Taking advantage of his distracted gaze, she cut into the small bit of space that separated them and grabbed the collar, pulled it back a bit to examine the cut on his neck. 

Her fingers touched the skin. He burned. 

He also, embarrassingly and achingly, immediately swelled in his pants. He knew that she felt it against her hip as she leaned in, lips falling down to the skin, tongue poking out - kitten like - with an experimental lick. 

She leaned back and brought her thumb against the flesh, wiping away the blood she had just wet with her tongue. 

When she looked back up into his eyes, he let out the deepest groan he had ever let out - he felt like a feline in heat as he did - and with zero motor control, he pushed her against the nearest wall, hands pinned, and lips chasing hers. 

But her head turned to the side immediately to avoid his advance. 

He felt frozen against that wall - that’s all his eyes could look at as her entire body froze.

“S-sorry,” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean to.” 

Y/N never stutters. 

He pulls away a bit to look at her, sees her shake. 

“You’re shivering.” He states, suddenly disgusted at the way he’s holding her. 

You’re her boss, you freak.

He steps back and she clasps her hands together in a panic, wringing them together.

“Cold, I think,” she mutters, mostly to herself it seems. “I don’t know.” 

He stands there, five feet away from her, wanting nothing more than to hold her. Warm her up.

“Well, winter resort…”

She nods.

“Are you cold, too?” She asks. 

He looks at her, unsure of what’s swimming behind her eyes. For the first time, she seems to be asking for mercy.

His brain lags but he nods. Sure, he felt a bit chilly.

“Ok, well then maybe we can…” she starts but stops. Hands still uneasy. 

He looks at her. Her small form, trying to appear smaller and smaller.

“Do you want a hug?” he asks, feeling as if he’s in a dream.

She looks at him - wide eyes, glassy, lost, overwhelmed.

“No, no, sorry, I just -”

He sighs and closes the distance again. 

Damn him. Damn him for being a creep.

His arms wrap around her waist, pull her in close, and he’s shocked when she doesn’t hesitate. She just wraps her arms around his neck and rests her cheek against his pec, curls into him oh so well.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, fingers digging into her flesh as he holds her. She hums at the pressure, pushes herself closer to him, and he’s enveloped in it - her scent, her hair, her arms.

And then she’s off. 

Back against the wall, she stares at him like she just stole a cookie.

“Sorry, I’m okay now.” She said, hands inconspicuously trying to wipe away a couple of loose tears in her eyes.

“No, no, you’re not. We’re not-”

“I’m fine.” She’s cold again. Eyes set. “Your girlfriend waiting at the table is probably not okay.”

“Minji is fine. You don’t have to worry about her.”

“Right. Well, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She says it in a way that’s so conclusory - it’s said and done. She doesn’t need Jungkook’s worry.

“Just be careful with Tae,” Jungkook can’t help but let the warning slip as they drag their feet back to the table of overstimulation and despair.

She doesn’t react. 

By the time they make it back to their table, it seems incredibly evident to Namjoon and Jimin that nothing positive transpired between the two and that they were set on ruining everyone else’s night. 

It was the way Y/N walked straight down into her seat and turned to Taehyung, finally reciprocating him with a whisper in his ear.

Jimin saw it through her skillful camouflage- she bit his ear.

The boy lit up like a Christmas tree, a new flow of life entered his body, and he was all reciprocation, returning the elusive whisper with a hand around her jaw, tilting her head towards him. 

Jungkook was no better, he went in for a kiss from Minji the second he sat down. Took her by surprise, and she tried laughing it off, but then, he was busy pulling her into his lap, making stupid loose conversation with Yoongi to play it off as a casual display of affection, but really, he was just trying to hide the boner that was there - angry, needy, and painful. 

Jimin and Namjoon got dinner and a show, silently watched the rest of the team delve into absolute chaos. This was not going according to plan. 

They had spent weeks trying to get Y/N to agree to go on this trip, and several weeks before that just plotting it. 

“Ok, here is what I’m thinking,” Jimin had started, sitting Namjoon down in the conference room circa 8 pm on a slow day. With everyone else gone from the office, they could really get to plotting.

Jimin pulled up a 112-slide deck powerpoint and Namjoon brought in the white board. 

“Sexy, winter trip - Y/N in a ski suit, who could say no?” Jimin threw it out there, and the idea was immediately caught by Namjoon who nodded aggressively and jotted down on the board ‘hot ski suit.’

“Ok, ok, a cool winter ski trip - we have to involve saunas somehow.” Namjoon said, and Jimin was all oos and aas at that. “Get… them… sweaty….” Namjoon frantically wrote down as Jimin continued to let the genius flow.

“Ultimately, we need to…”

“Get them to sleep together…”

“Yes..”

“A little jealousy…”

Namjoon nodded, jotting down ‘jealousy.’

“A little tension,” Jimin continued, and Namjoon wrote down ‘bring back the spice.’

“And a little warmth. Something to remind them of how good everything was before the demons took over.”

Namjoon wrote down ‘B.D.’ for before the demons. 

But now, staring at the mess in front of them, it had all gone awry. It wasn’t a little jealousy, a little tension - it was truckloads of jealousy, nuclear amounts of tension. 

They stared at each other through a particularly empty bite on their forks - they had run out of appetizers to occupy themselves with as the table delved into further chaos. 

This place didn’t even have any mixed gender saunas. The plan was blowing up. 

Taehyung had managed to convince Y/N to venture over to the bar with him, and not surprisingly, Jungkook and Minji followed suit, leaving the duo alone with Yoongi.

“So… who tops?”

Namjoon and Jimin forced out a couple of laughs before clanking their forks around again. The plan was failing, absolutely. But it was fine - the backup was incoming. They knew that - no one else did. 

“In case this all blows up,” Jimin had proposed in that conference room, shooting Namjoon a curt but all knowing look. “We have to save ourselves. Make sure we get out unscathed, without hiccups. Smooth transition.”

Namjoon had nodded without hesitation. It was time to sketch out their next step.  

At the bar, Taehyung was oblivious to the fact that his boss was plotting his murder. 

“... and then I broke 80 that day.” Taehyung rambled, finishing up some random golf story to impress Y/N.

“I don’t believe you.” Y/N said, who was apparently on her high school’s varsity golf team. Her words were not inviting a comeback or any humor but Taehyung still managed to take it as a flirty jab.

“Haha, I should show you then. We should definitely hit the driving range together.” 

“I don’t think I’d like that.”

“Ohh, is that how it is? Scared of a little competition?” 

“I think it’s so hot when couples compete,” Minji butted in, once again, failing to add anything to the convo. “Jungkook used to be so competitive before this whole Jeon & Associates thing…”

Jungkook was fuming. He had drunk half a bottle of whiskey that was not worth what it cost and was apparently distilled by mountain goats or something??? (the bartender was the same guy from the ski slopes, and he was trying his hardest to get Y/N’s attention away from Taehyung). 

“Well, he sure wasn’t competitive today. Y/N, you’re, like ,crazy good at everything.” Taehyung blabbered, hand holding up his chin as he gawked at Y/n who was staring back at him with too much amusement in her eyes. “Crazy good at yoga.”

Jungkook clears his throat, and Minji laughs, hand reaching over to touch Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N flinched every time Minji tried her hand at one of these friendly pats. They were seated next to each other and had Taehyung and Jungkook on either side of them. Jungkook felt more like he was on a far away island from the trio of them as Taehyung and Minji delved deeper into this newfound obsession with Y/N.

It wasn’t shocking. The quiet, elusive type at the firms were always the source of envy. In silence, people filled myth and rumor until the least interesting person became the most simply because of that allure. So, when they keep that shell closed - whether it be due to social inaptness, such as in Y/N’s case - it drives resentment and competition.

So, Taehyung and Minji were in the rare glimpse of the miracle of the office shut in opening up, and the more she did, the more attractive she became.

Y/N may be socially inapt, but she would be the diamond of Minji’s friend group if Minji could just recruit her for those golf and ski trips. She could impress the instructors, wingman them with the attractive men with her gorgeous body and face, and then keep them at bay for Minji’s enjoyment when they realized that Y/N was off putting and Minji and her friends were the real stars - I mean it would just be perfect.

And Taehyung was convinced he had met his dream woman. An athlete, 10/10 bod, 10/10 face, a successful career, and a lack of feminine, human emotion. She probably would want an open relationship. He needed to hook and sink this tonight - he could not lose this opportunity. 

Contrasted with Jimin and Namjoon, their grasps at the ethereal woman amidst them was so telling of their character.

Jungkook didn’t know where he landed - between the pure intentions and the natural draw of Y/N’s actual friends, or the needy torture of this new crew of vultures - but he stared, too. 

He craved her attention, too. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

Months of ripping everything up by the floorboards and trying to install his old life back in, and convincing himself - truly - that he was better than Y/N, better than all of them. 

That he needed to make everything normal and clean and like it was before.

But he could have just let them go, then, couldn’t he have? Why did he try so hard to try and squeeze all three of them - Jimin, Namjoon, and Y/N - into this plastic mold that he couldn’t even fit himself into?

He stared as they touched Y/N, berated her with questions, filled her silence with their own answers, and he wanted nothing more than to grab her, grab Jimin, and Namjoon and just run off into one of their rooms to tell them it was all a big joke. A prank.

Wake up.

“... I said, did you guys ever make out?” 

“Huh?” Jungkook locked back into the conversation with Minji looking at him over her shoulder, Y/N staring at him dead on with red cheeks - from the liquor or Taehyung’s assault who knows - and Taehyung with his hand on Y/N’s waist as if to steady her in the bar chair. 

She didn’t need any steadying - she was as stiff as a board.

“I mean, Jungkook just always had a thing for making out with his associates,” Minji explained to Y/N, giving her the most threatening smile Y/N had ever witnessed - she wasn’t much used to fighting over men since the Eunwoo incident, and even then, she didn’t fight it. If you want him so bad, have him.

“Minji, it was one associate, and it was a drinking game. You dared us.” Jungkook corrected.

“Well, you looked very enthusiastic.” She quipped and turned back to Y/N, brushed a hair out of her face.

Y/N’s face darkened at that, traced her hand back to where it went to her drink - Y/N’s drink. Minji gave the sultriest look she could manage to Y/N as she took a sip, winced and put it back down.

“I won’t get mad,” Minji offered, finger coming up to pat her lipstick back into place as if the single sip had caused it to move. Y/N’s eyes watched, hyperfocused.

Jungkook sighed, realizing that Minji’s charm was working better on Y/N than it was him. It made his stomach turn, at what he wasn’t sure. Jealousy? For whom?

“You know…” Y/N offered a sick smile twitching onto her lips, and it took Minji by surprise - Jungkook could tell, she shifted in her seat - because Y/N had never really smiled at any of the newbies before. Didn’t even attempt to fake one.

“What?” Minji asked, leaning in.

“I won’t believe it if you said you did,” Taehyung teased, leaning back slightly to get himself heard. “No diss to you, Y/N. Just don’t see it.” 

Jungkook avoided Taehyung’s gaze because he knew that whatever was in it was going to make him violent.

Jungkook is not a violent person.

“Taehyung, shut up,” Minji insisted, leaning into Y/N’s words, her face so incredibly close to Y/N’s. 

It made Jungkook wince - she was going to dirty Y/N. She was going to get whatever was wrong with her all over Y/N, god, he needed them away from each other -

“I heard you have a thing for your associates, too,” Y/N said, and the glint of her eye caught Jungkook’s gaze for a millisecond. The fire - the desire to twist Minji’s arm, to make her cry - Jungkook saw it.

Jungkook saw for the first time Y/N’s sexual desires outside of him, and maybe towards him, too - her natural instinct to torture always seemed to lead her down some illicit path. She seemed to love this - the ruin.

Minji huffed, shook her head, took a sip of her drink and fanned herself a bit - perfectly playing it off, clearly.

Jungkook caught the downward dip of Taehyung’s head, too. His eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Hang on a second…

“Tell me, Minji, have you made out with any associates while you were married? Any star pupils?” 

Minji choked again, suddenly aware of how Y/N’s eyes watched her lips. 

“Y/N…” Jungkook spoke up, for the first time, coals burning in his gaze as it honed in on Y/N, brows coming down to a don’t. 

Y/N’s gaze caught his, and he saw the flicker of no.

“Would it be such a crime?” Minji whispered, suddenly finding herself with her eyes locked on Y/N’s lips. Taehyung watched on. 

Jungkook seemed to be the only one aware of Y/N’s witchcraft.

“Would one of those associates happen to be the one drooling like a dog behind me?”

“Y/N!” Jungkook’s voice bellowed through the restaurant. Forks clattered, time stopped - if only for an instant. 

Within the second, everything seemed to return to normal except for Y/N and Jungkook. 

Jimin and Namjoon were at their feet at once, leaving Yoongi to order the second round of apps since no one had decided on entrees. 

“Wow, what is this a party?!” Namjoon exclaimed, clapping his hands once as he approached the civil war unraveling before their eyes.

“Look at you guys!” Jimin yelped with a little laugh and a kind look around at the group before  immediately coming up behind Y/N and twisting her chair so that she looked dead on at him. “And what kind of trouble are you causing lady?” He asked, voice lower as Namjoon took care of the distractions.

“Yeah, having all the fun without us. How is this fair - hey, Taehyung, order an old fashioned for me - oh, Minji is this a new necklace…”

Jungkook felt rather isolated again as Minji and Taehyung decided to bless poor Namjoon with a free drink and a lesson on designer jewelry. No, those were not diamonds - it’s very clean zirconia - yes, it was worth the price.

Jimin, amidst that noise, had managed to situate himself between Y/N’s legs, holding her close by the waist as he whispered something into her ear and Jungkook strained himself the best he could to listen past Namjoon’s booming voice coupled with Taehyung and Minji’s high octaves.

“... they have you so worked up… back to my room… we can have some fun.”

Jungkook slammed his cup down at that word.

Fun.

“Think it’s time to finish dinner.” 

It was an order. It wasn’t Jungkook who delivered it - it was Genghis Khan. No one thought it funny, or an invitation. Something in their drunken minds sobered to follow his lead back to the table, where everyone orderly and obediently put their orders in and the rest of the dinner was had without much splendor. 

Except, when they went back, Y/N sat next to Jimin. And Jimin’s right hand mysteriously never came up from under the table.

Soothing hand on her thigh, or otherwise, Jungkook didn’t care.

Jungkook didn’t care about anything by the time they made it back to their rooms.

He spent two hours in the shower after Minji went to sleep. Nothing, no relief. There was a camel on his chest, and there was an elephant on top of that camel, and none of them were thinking of getting off any time soon.

He tried ten minutes of cold water before he finally stepped out. Still rather hopeless.

He sat on the bathroom floor after that, scared to see Minji passed out on the bed. Something about that potential sight made his stomach twist, made him feel claustrophobic. 

The entire resort was also eerily quiet. He longed for a white noise. A sound of something other than tree branches grazing windows and walls and a tepid, quiet wind rustling through the complex.

He got dressed in seconds, in the dark, as Minji slept before leaving his room to explore the other wings. Innocent curiosity.

Wondered what the other room arrangements looked like. 

He ventured out, bare feet - he wanted to feel the cold flooring, felt like it would be grounding - with only a black shirt and loose black sweatpants on.

He walked through the cold tiles to the other wing, where the colors got a bit darker - wood replaced prior accents of wildfire orange and forest green. Less windows down this wing.

Less noise.

Just a small hum.

A melody.

Something familiar.

Jungkook heard the call down a long, dark corridor. He wasn’t sure which of the hallways Y/N’s room was in, where everyone else was, but he harbored no fear for being caught as he delved into between the haunted looking walls to trace down the sound.

As it got louder, he knew. He knew what it was, where he had heard it…

The next turn of the hallway lead him out to small opening with a large window, a small wooden bench in front. The moonlight poured over like water and illuminated Y/N’s body, washed over her shoulders and the rest of her as she sat on that bench, hummed that melody to herself.

She was sitting with her knees up, arms loosely resting on them as she watched the forest outside move with the silent wind. 

Her voice was inaudible if not for the call of his memory, and it cut out completely once she heard the shuffle of feet.

Her head snapped back to look at him, freezing him in his tracks.

Hair still slightly wet, face bare and tired, as he stood in front of her.

She was bare faced too, a natural flush on her naturally pale skin. She was wearing a black camisole, loose black pajama pants. That torturous sliver of skin showing through the middle.

He wanted to run his fingers down that opening, feel the dip of the dimples on her back.

“You’re up.” She stated as he cautiously walked over to sit on the opposite side of the bench, back to the glow of the window if only to shield his face.

“Keep singing.” He asked, looking at his hands. She was silent for a moment before she started humming again, watching the flurry of the leaves outside.

He closed his eyes, leaned back against the window and sighed.

The elephant left. 

As Y/N’s scent - post shower, right before bed - began to swim around him, so did the camel.

He opened his eyes after what felt like a lifetime, but what was probably a few minutes.

He turned his head to look at her - everything blurring in this sleep deprived hour in the AM.

He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since that night when he rushed out of her bed, angry. 

“Why are you up?” he asked, waiting for her to look back at him but she didn’t.

“Felt uneasy. Everything is too quiet.”

Jungkook nodded, a small, sad smile slipping onto his lips.

“Yeah, too quiet.” 

His eyes closed again - he felt something like sleep overtake him.

“Y/N,” he called out. He was met with a hum. “Why did you become an attorney out of all things?”

He had meant to ask her that for a while. Never got around to it because there was time. Six months into knowing Y/N, his brain had convinced him that she’d be a constant.

But she was slipping, dissipating all around him. So, he thought he could anchor her down with that question.

Satisfy his curiosity until the impending doom he felt in his chest exploded.

Her head leaned against the cool of the glass. She kept staring out the window.

“I used to be really bad at speaking up for myself.” She said, a nail coming up to tap against the window.

Jungkook watched her face - doubly reflected in the glass - and took in the way her chin slightly quivered at the mention of a weakness. Watched her eyes blink a little too rapidly for a moment - chasing away self-pity.

“I, uh, let some things happen to me that I shouldn’t have. Wished someone would speak up for me, instead, so I wouldn’t have to do it. But no one did, probably because I didn’t ask, but… Whatever.”

He listened, but a question pestered.

“Is that why you pick the clients you pick?” 

She looked at him.

“I pick cases I think I can win.”

Jungkook smiled a little, trying to fight the sudden urge of sleep that was starting to overtake him.

“Millionaire ranchers asking for their farms back, evil serial killers with a mountain of evidence against them, cranky racists wanting to practice some old, backwards religion…”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“You speak up for them,” he said, heart suddenly swelling with pride because he had been there by her side - for a bit there - as she did all of that. “The misunderstood.”

He said the word like it was out of a horror movie - with a faux drama. It made Y/N relax a bit against that window, smile the smallest little bit in reaction.

“I win big. That’s all there is to it.” 

Jungkook nodded. Fine. He wasn’t going to fight the narrative - he had already mentally jotted down what he needed to in his long forgotten handbook. 

“And I protect myself now.” She said, gulping before looking over at Jungkook. “I don’t need anyone else to do it.”

With that, she stood up. Jungkook’s body followed suit. 

He had no reason to be anywhere without her, it seemed.

“Y/N…” he whispered, hand coming out to just touch her fingers as she turned to head back. The contact made her turn back around before recoiling her hand away from him.

“Don’t.” She snapped - voice tight. His eyes begged. “No.”

“No to what, Y/N?” He asked, suddenly exasperated. He grabbed her hands, held them steady despite her weak attempt to pull it away.

“Let go.” She said, but his hold moved to her wrists, dragging her down to sit back on the bench as he crouched down in front of her, trying to hold her still despite her loud protests (could have been louder, he took that as a sign).

“No, just listen.” He begged, trying his hardest to catch her gaze. “I’m tired of being miserable-”

“Good for you-”

“And I’m so, so miserable-”

“I can tell-”

“I just want it all to stop-”

“Then, stop it, Jungkook.” She said, throwing his hands off and standing up. He was at his feet at once, following her march down the hall, grabbing her and pressing her against the nearest wall.

“Stop what? Just tell me and I’ll do it, I’ll do anything-”

His head cowered into the crook of her neck, his hands let go of her hers to grab her waist instead, wrapping his arms around despite her protests.

“Please, please, anything, just -”

She shoved him off just as a voice came up behind them.

“Get off her, Jungkook.” 

It was Jimin. Of course, it was Jimin.

Jungkook turned and looked at him, pleading, but Jimin had already grabbed a hold of Y/N, pulled her away from him and behind his short body.

Jungkook could easily get her back - was tempted to.

“Go back to bed. Leave the girl alone.”

Y/N stared up from behind him with a sad little glint.

A sad little realization. 

Jimin was standing up for her. 

Jungkook stared at her.

Maybe she did need someone to protect her.

She stared back, and he could have sworn that she wanted it - his arms around her. To go back to normal.

Why did it have to be Jimin?

“Seriously, Jungkook. We’ve all had a long day.”

Jimin, who could never love her the way she needed.

“Y/N…” Jungkook called out, but Jimin shook his head.

Jimin, who kept letting her get away with it.

The duo walked back to Y/N’s room together. Jimin whispered something in her ear along the lines of “... tomorrow will be better.”

Unbeknownst to Jungkook, Jimin and Namjoon had already moved onto the next step of their plan. They had all but given up on him.

—

He wakes without sleeping. Eyes bloodshot. Mouth dry. Head aching.

Migraine. Has to be. He used to get them a lot after the seizure, but it had slowly weaned off. 

This one off one immediately put him on edge, made him scared. 

He started the day off with that anticipation as the crew headed to the breakfast buffet - Jimin had decided to play mascot for the day. 

He seemed to be on some crazed mission to bring everyone’s mood up - Y/N’s in particular.

He insisted on mimosas for their table - him and Namjoon took Y/n to sit far away from the crew, even managing to thwart Taehyung’s incessant advances to join them.

“Yo, they are not chill about cockblocking.” Taehyung grumbled as he crashed into the booth with Yoongi and Jungkook as Minji paraded around the buffet, looking helplessly for the gluten free labels. “Like could Jimin make it any more obvious?? I know he’s gay, but I feel like they’re actually fucking. I heard some weird noises last night in the hallway-”

“Taehyung, please, shut the fuck up. I have a migraine.” Jungkook begged, fork stabbing into a mushy pile of eggs as he held his forehead up on his hand - his whole head threatening to smash down onto his plate of sad mountain food.

Fresh goat cheese in the omelette, my ass. 

Just then, a slew of familiar looking faces flooded the buffet - another firm on a retreat. Jungkook knew this one - an adversary from his old days. A decent firm - large enough, sustainable, respectable clients. Sizeable family owned businesses, schools, charities - just an honest gaggle of people.

Their youngest partner had been on a case against Jungkook - one of the only ones where Jungkook lost. 

Didn’t mind losing to that guy, though. He was polite, did good work - didn’t rub the win in Jungkook’s face.

Minji spotted him first - she was on that trial team, too. 

She immediately gawked at the man - Ji-Chang Wook - rushed to his side to greet him.

Jungkook overheard parts of the conversation - they were here on a retreat, too. Needed a little air.

“It’s been a busy year,” he said to Minji politely when she complimented their success. She was right to - they were a struggling criminal defense practice for the longest time before finding their niche.

At Minji’s direction, who informed him that they were here on a firm retreat too, Changwook sat down his crew and walked over to Jungkook to shake his hand, congratulate him on his respective success.

“Whoa, Mr. Jiiii,” Taehyung hollered. “How’s licking the bottom of the Fortune 500 going for you?” 

He politely smiled at the insult. 

“Happy to provide our small business services. You’d be surprised, Taehyung. They’re more fun to work with sometimes.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure.” 

The duo cackled to themselves - they had fought against his firm, too, but lost not as graciously as Jungkook had. They despised the do-good types. That’s who Jungkook was in the company of - people who hated doing anything clean and pure.

“Is this the whole team?” Changwook asked, looking around. “I could have sworn…”

“No, no, we also have that psycho on,” Yoongi said, pointing over at Y/N.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Changwook whispered, a small smile coming to his lips at the sight of her.

Jungkook suddenly felt awake and well and alert.

“Do you know her?” Jungkook asked. “Like outside of the court…”

Changwook didn’t stop looking over in her direction as he answered.

“Yeah, I won a death penalty case with her. She was with my firm for a bit,” His eyes narrowed as people got in the way of his vision. “We also had a mutual friend in law school. Bonded over that quite a bit.”

Jungkook’s blood froze. He was glad to not have the man’s eyes on him because he knew at once that Eunwoo was Y/N’s only friend back then. 

No one had ever told him about Changwook. God damn you, Jimin.

“Yo, Captain!” Changwook shouted across the room, catching Y/N, Jimin, and Namjoon’s reaction.

“Aye, Deckmate!” Namjoon shouted back and Jimin broke out into a bouquet of smiles as Y/N waved - shy but happy. 

Changwook took one last look at them, muttering a quick ‘I better go say hi’ before departing for the other table.

Jungkook glared, stabbing his eggs harder and harder as they made room for him to sit, all of them breaking out into inside jokes and comfortable conversation.

Y/N and him shared looks, shared questions that seemed to be pocketed for later. Seemed way too intimate.

Looking at Changwook seated amongst them like that felt like a mirror into the past - just six months ago, when that was him, being showered with jokes, attention, and friendly charm. 

Changwook’s eyes were glittering with happiness in their wake, and Jungkook felt his own get dimmer and dimmer as Taehyung and Namjoon talked shit about Changwook’s watch.

“You wouldn’t catch me dead with anything worth less than high end five figures on my wrist. What are we, civil servants?”

Jungkook glared at him.

“Yes, actually, all attorneys are technically servient of the courts, Taehyung,” Jungkook mumbled, and Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, tell that to my Rolex, haha, right, sir?”

Jungkook uncomfortably pulled the sleeve of his zip up to cover the one on his own wrist, suddenly ashamed at wearing something so gaudy.

He remembered putting this watch away years ago, around when he did the NYT expose - when did he start wearing it again?

“God, they look like geriatrics at a nursing home courtyard,” Yoongi mused, taking up to joining Jungkook in watching the quartet like a sad movie. “I hate how lawyers like that act like they’re good old Italian boys catching up in a diner.”

Jungkook looked over at Yoongi.

“Lawyers like what?”

“The losers. The ones who didn’t make it where we made it to.”

Yoongi is proud, animalistic when he says this. Jungkook feels cruelty brew within him.

“Really, that’s interesting…” he said, dozing back off into table across from them, where all three were listening intently to Changwook as he described something with an assortment of salt shakers, crumpled up napkins - moving them around like chess players.

Then, he turned his attention to his two associates.

“And where exactly did you two end up?”

They broke out into smiles.

“With the best of the best!” Taehyung praised. Jungkook raised his eyebrow at him.

“Really? And here I thought you two dumbasses didn’t have the two brain cells to rub together to get by on half million dollar salaries so you were forced to follow a dead-end bitchy partner to her ex’s rundown firm like the two cucks you are.”

Jungkook feels a warmth in his chest as he lets the words out. He reaches over to chug down a mimosa as Taehyung and Yoongi fall silent, heads dropping in humility - they had been spoiled, too. They needed to be reminded of the hierarchy here. 

Looking at Changwook, then, leaning back into the booth as Namjoon poked jabs at his side as if to hype him up about something as Jimin and Y/N laughed like school children - right then, Jungkook decided he was done.

Completely.

Fuck it, old Jungkook was back.

“You’re both worthless and bad at your jobs. Now, shut the fuck up so I can eat and deal with this fucking migraine.”

By the time Minji got back to the table, the mood was sour, just like it should be on a law firm retreat.

“I want the draft motions on my desk by Monday morning, by the way,” he muttered, eating through his entire plate with a newfound appetite. “Don’t use the trip as an excuse.”

Yoongi and Taehyung both muttered some yes’s before finding an excuse to leave the buffet early. 

Minji was absolutely eating this side of him up. He kissed her dirty in the booth in front of everyone as a reward for her attention. 

People should know that the girl with the most expensive watch in the room is his.

—

There is only one activity for the last day. 

Hike to frozen waterfalls.

Here is something Y/n wasn’t very good at - navigating rough terrain. 

Here is something Y/N was very good at - getting lucky.

Their group got teamed with Changwook’s, and the two immediately paired up. 

“I remember from that one trip our second year,” Changwook told her within earshot of Jungkook. “I’ll help you out, don’t worry.”

“That’s sweet, Changwook” Jungkook thought he had gone dead or schizo because the Y/N he knew would have immediately responded with “I’m fine.” “No need.” “Don’t touch me.”

But, nooooooo. Not with her precious Changwook - the best friend of her dead star crossed lover, like, oh my god SPARE ME. GOD, SERIOUSLY SPARE ME.

Jungkook’s prayers went unheard, unregistered.

Changwook never touched Y/N, to his credit. But she stepped over his back to climb over a rather difficult rock. She held onto his arms when they got too close to the cliffs. She brushed the hair off his face when he couldn’t see. 

When they made it to the frozen waterfalls, and the guide instructed them to wander about as they wished for the next twenty minutes before they started the hike back, the duo disappeared into the woods, taking a path far away from the rest of the group.

Even Jimin appeared wary.

“They won’t get lost, right?” He asked the guide, eyes concerningly looking off in their direction. Jungkook lingered near him to hear the answer.

“Actually…” the guide started, looking down at his watch, “one of you should probably fetch them back so we can start the climb down.”

Jimin immediately headed into the opening.

“I’ll come with,” Jungkook offered, following behind.

“No need,” Jimin answered as they started on the path, shooting a curt look at him.

“I’m not going to lose two employees on a retreat,” Jungkook justified, following a step behind him, but his eyes were a lot more desperate - trying their hardest to see through the shrubs and the greenery for two attractive adults. Alone. In the middle of the woods.

“Imagine you lost three…” Jimin joked, thoughtlessly and mostly to himself. Jungkook took a pause.

“What does that mean?”

Jimin blushed, and continued on. 

“Nothing, I’m just tired. Excited to get back home tomorrow.”

Jungkook huffed out but didn’t have much time to retort when they came upon an opening with Y/N and Changwook sitting on a large fallen tree.

They were entrenched in a slow conversation, eyes locked together, smiles reaching their cheeks.

“... or when we went swimming, remember that one?”

“With the bioluminescent…”

“Fish, yes! It was beautiful. You hated it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes at the subject matter and made a move to break into their silent barrier so they could announce the hike back, but Jimin held him back, hands wound tight into his shirt.

“Let go,” Jungkook murmured but Jimin pulled him back harder, almost making him lose balance.

“Leave them be. They haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

Jungkook huffed and brushed off the pine needles that fell on him when Jimin pulled him back against its branches.

“They’ll never see each other again if we freeze up here,” He grumbled, but Jimin wasn’t paying attention to him. His eyes were glowing as he watched the couple.

Jungkook shook his head. Not a couple.

“I didn’t think she’d ever be able to face him,” Jimin whispered, tears lining his eyes. “I was scared about what would happen.”

Jungkook looked puzzled.

“Why…” he started to ask, but that woke Jimin right the hell up. He shook his head.

“Nevermind, nothing important.”

And there it was - his first official rejection from the handbook chronicles.

He didn’t get access to this chapter.

No, not anymore.

They called out to them soon enough, and the groups trekked back down to the resort. 

Changwook did touch Y/n on the way back, carrying her over hills and down some of the slopes all the way back to base - helping her every step of the way.

When they got back to the rooms to change for dinner,Minji tried to have sex with Jungkook. Jungkook said no, panicked, and started crying in the bathroom. 

Minji didn’t speak to him much for the rest of the night. 

At the restaurant, Taehyung and Yoongi were also not keen on conversation. Their obedience levels were turned up to max, and their idea of conversation immediately became whatever Jungkook said parroted back at him. 

“The specials tonight suck.” 

“Yes, they do, sir.”

“Agreed.”

“Is it cold in here?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll get someone to turn the heat up.”

Jungkook sighed, looked around to see Namjoon and Jimin at the bar, and Y/N and Changwook curled up by one of the couches next to the firepit the restaurant boasted by its windows.

They each held a glass of wine, sat with the space of barely one body between themselves, as they chatted, lovingly, sweetly. 

Minji was on her phone, and Jungkook knew that there was going to be absolutely no way in hell that he could get her to acknowledge him now. She hated when he cried.

Defeated, he decided to at the very least try to talk to Jimin and Namjoon about how he was feeling - angry, manic, and lost.

He knew his ego wouldn’t let him get it all out, but he at the very least just needed to be away from his table of kiss-assery and mental check-outs.

“... seriously, kind of sad it’s coming to an end.”

“Me, too, I really liked it here…”

“Hey, guys…” Jungkook interjected, trying not to dwell on the conversation that was being had before his arrival.

The duo exchanged a troubled look before awkwardly greeting Jungkook, letting him climb into the seat between them and ordering a glass of whiskey for him.

“Sorry for how much of a bust this trip was,” Jimin said, clinking his glass. “I thought it would be more… wholesome.”

Jungkook shrugged.

“It’s fine.” he said, taking a sip of the alcohol half heartedly. “Maybe next time we can go somewhere warmer.”

His offer was met with silence. He swallowed, his mouth dry.

“What’s the deal, by the way, between Changwook and Y/N?”

Namjoon shot Jimin a look. 

“I don’t think she’d want us to share that. It’s a bit personal.”

Jungkook felt his stomach sink a little. It seemed he had officially lost his Y/N handbook privileges. 

He looked on, tried to not seem so longing, but his eyes dragged on the soft warmth rising under her eyes in the heat of the fireplace. The hand on her knee. The comfort she so suddenly exuded. 

He sat, and watched, as another man brought her joy, comfort, and relief. 

From him, perhaps. 

He kept on drinking. As the group slowly started to trickle back to their rooms, Jungkook decided that he couldn’t sit there watching Changwook and Y/N the entire night, but he didn’t really want to go back into his room with Minji, either. 

Asleep on that bed. Scent on everything.

Instead, he stumbled out of the restaurant and past the decorative koi ponds built into the rock of the mountain, caging pretty orange, red, white fish - but maybe he shouldn’t call it caging. They liked it there. They looked well fed.  

He saunters, trips, knows he’s too drunk for his own good and he manages to find one of the trail heads where the hiking parties took off from. 

Blue star. It’s the sign for the lookout over the cliff - too easy of a hike, so they had skipped. Jimin said they’d see the lookout on the drive back home, anyway.

Jungkook thinks one last time about the mess behind him at the resort. He thinks about Y/N with Changwook. He thinks about Minji and that empty look in her eyes.

He looks down at his feet, still on the paved roadway of the resort. 

One step ahead is the grassy trail, trees rising in great big shadows as if it were a door to a new beginning - 

A new ending. 

He knows at that moment that taking the step forward means something more than a drunk desire to seek thrill. 

He takes a second to think it over.

Thinks back to the office awaiting him on Monday - the impossible to win cases, the emails piling up in his inbox, the relentless clients with too much money sending the emails…

He laughs. Why do any of this? Why put up with any of it.

He’s stepping through that door. If it’s the last thing he does. 

The trail is dark, but a little bit of moonlight pokes out past the pines, littered on the ground like silver rain. 

He is slow, quiet - enjoying his last minutes in absolute serenity. 

He hasn’t been this quiet in… ever.

Absolutely zen. No regrets. 

He sees the clearing up ahead, knows the drop is far enough down, he won’t miss this time - 

Eyes closed, a teardrop falling, and with perfect harmony in his heart, he is ready to accept his end.

Until a hand grabs the top of his head, drags his hair back as if it intends to scalp him. 

“What in the Jesus fuck!?”

Jungkook’s voice causes a whole radius of forest animals to scurry, he makes the trees shake, the wind move. 

He falls to the ground, landing rough on his back - great, now he’s alive AND needs physical therapy, could anything be worse - and stares up at the moon, the trees…

“What the fuck -”

Y/N’s face appears above his, blinded by the moon but he’d make that nose out in the pitch black if he had to. 

So high above his. 

“What the fuck, Y/N!”

He tries getting up but he’s met with her boot on his chest, knocking the wind out of him and his head back down onto the ground.

Even better - now, he has a concussion!

God, really, truly, anything else you’d like to bless this humble servant with?

It happens to be a solid kick into his ribs. Y/N steps back after that.

She’s wearing plain black leggings and a black long sleeve and some guy’s big fluffy flannel jacket, and oh god, it’s the one Changwook was wearing in the restaurant, genuinely if the universe wanted to create a fallen angel, it was doing it now because Jungkook was never going to forgive god, the universe, WHATEVER IS OUT THERE for what is happening to him in this second - 

“There is a landing 50 ft down, idiot. All you would have done was break your spine.”

Once he sits up, he gets a good look at her face - no pity. No emotion. 

Why did he expect to find any? Y/N wasn’t capable of emotions. 

“Thanks for the concern, dick,” he spits, standing up and dusting himself off. “I’ll just launch myself off then. Make sure to miss the landing.”

She stares, he rolls his eyes. 

“God, do you know how fucking creepy you look right now in the middle of this forest-” 

“Why?” 

He chokes a little. He knows what she’s asking. Why did you try to throw yourself off a cliff?

In all honesty, he can’t do this. He cannot hold himself up right now - not after she caught him trying to off himself because he saw her talk to another guy. Not when he hasn’t gotten this good of a look at her in months. 

Not when he hasn’t been alone with her since…

That night. 

A shiver goes through her, and he realizes that her teeth are chattering slightly. 

“You’re cold.” He states, matter of fact, like she likes to do sometimes. He looks down at her pink fingers. “How long have you been out here?” 

She looks guilty, suddenly.

“Just came out.”

“Like just now?”

“Uhhuh.”

Jungkook tries to not read into. Tries not to think she followed me out. 

It was his turn to stare.

“Did you finish your convo with Changwook?” 

She stared back.

“How do you know Changwook?”

“How do you know him?”

She shrugged. 

“I worked for him after I left my first firm. He was the only one who’d take both Jimin and I in.”

“Oh, right,” he says, not wanting to betray her with the admission that he knows about the Eunwoo connection. But he tries 

“Do you…” his words trail off, his gaze drops to his feet, “... want to talk about it?”

She had decided to look up at the moon. By the time he got his eyes back on her, that’s where she was - on the moon. 

So, he drank her in. He wondered if she knew the mercy she was letting him have - to drink her in under the moonlight. It felt like medicine. 

“I haven’t been out of the city in so long.” She said, more to the moon than she did to Jungkook. 

Jungkook took a shaky and all too loud step towards her. She had snapped back to look at him - eyes wide and wary.

“You look scared.” He said, stalling his advance.

She stayed silent. He took another step and she flinched. 

“I’m scared you’ll touch me.” 

Utter silence from the both of them at Y/N’s confession.

“Checkout is early tomorrow.” 

That’s all she said before climbing back through the trees, getting on the path back to the resort. 

He stood there, hands aching. To do what?

He knew what. 

When he got back to his room, he couldn’t touch Minji. He crawled to the far end of their bed, and helplessly hugged himself through a sleepless night. 

[maladaptivejeon]

𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 (𝕡𝕥. 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖)

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

summary: lawyer!au where burned out attorney Jeon Jungkook starts his own barely-functioning firm and accidentally hires an even bigger problem themes: oh brother, fastest slow burn imaginable; unhinged workplace dynamics; “what is wrong with you” x “no seriously, what is wrong with you” energy; chaotic coworker ensemble; blurred professional/personal boundaries; power imbalances; questionable coping mechanisms; dark humor; emotional repression series warnings: mdni! explicit content, workplace power dynamics, toxic coping mechanisms, degradation/humiliation themes, dom/sub undertones, restraint/bondage (handcuffs etc), threesome-ish situations, feetplay, s*xual tension tied to control/instability, messy consent-adjacent dynamics, s*bstance use, dark themes intertwined with s*xual content wc: ~10k(chapter total)/~70k (series total) a/n: TAGLIST IS CLOSED (bc i was never supposed to have a taglist) but in honor of the og fans of the series, i'll make an exception for you guys, hope you enjoy the next part: @mikrokookiex@prxdajeon@bjoriis@somehowukook ~Part Three~

Jungkook wakes up utterly confused.

For one, he doesn’t feel a pound of bricks is laying on his head. That’s new. 

Second, he feels rested. That’s also new.

Third, oh god. 

Y/N is on him - obviously, that’s super brand new - and she’s staring at him like he’s a criminal. 

“We’re late for work.” 

“Oh god.”

In the haste and the panic of the morning, they don’t think it twice when they rush into the office at the same time - both late, and Jungkook is wearing his suit from the day before. 

 “Well, well, well,” Jimin sings, pen tapping against his lips. “What do we have here? NAMJOON GET IN HERE!”

Y/N ignores them, marches into her office, and leaves Jungkook at their mercy as Namjoon runs out of the bathroom, barely zipping himself up as he shows up with a hurried “what is it?” under his breath. 

“Oh, spill, Mister - spill!”

—

It seems that even when things are going good for them, they’re going awful for Jungkook. 

Y/N’s new thing? Spontaneous blowjobs. Constantly, all the time - 

They have a trial at the County Courthouse - two weeks, but it’s fifteen minutes away from their office so they don’t need to repeat the hotel debacle. 

But the case is long, and the subject matter is boring, and Y/N doesn’t get enough pleasure out of torturing people on bad math, so every recess, every break, every night - he’s pulled into some dark room, closet, crevice to receive the deadliest, most addicting head he’s ever received.

He can’t take it anymore. 

“I can’t take it anymore.”

Jimin is in a fit of absolute giggles. Namjoon is doing a better job at holding back his laughter, but it’s painted all over his face as he lands heavy pats on Jungkook’s shoulders. 

“Hang in there, brother. There are men who would die to be in your shoes.”

“I might die in my shoes. I’m going to be barren by 40 if this keeps up.”

“Nobody said it was easy.” 

“Maybe look into Viagra.” 

He slams his head into his desk - god, someone please just kill him.

What makes it worse is that he has no idea if he’s supposed to reciprocate. He wants to, he’s dying to, but it’s like a feral cat that’s let you pet them for the first time. 

You don’t know how far she’ll let you take it, so you’re at her mercy, constantly, just doing your best to get on her good side. 

So, he’s scared to ask, and he’s offended that she hasn’t asked yet. He can’t figure it out - is Y/N too scared to ask? But that makes no sense - she demands everything that she wants. Does she not realize it’s an option?

Would she kill him if he offered? How does he even offer it? 

Y/N is amazing at initiating - she seems to have it down to a science. A light touch, a sly look - she has him melting on the dot whenever she wants to. It’s like there is a button and only she knows where it is, and she keeps pressing the damn thing. 

He shudders and jumps when she storms into the office, breaking apart their little keke. 

“What is going on here? I have been screaming for someone to help me with the printer for the past ten minutes!”

Jimin sighs, stands, and puts his hands at his hips.

“She’s going to be the death of us all.”

Jimin grabs whatever piece of paper that Y/n wanted copies of, and she waits patiently as they trickle out of his room, shutting the door soon after. 

Jungkook melts in his chair. Not again. 

“I have a question.” she states, sitting down in the armchair, willingly for once. 

His ears perk up. Ask and you shall receive, perhaps. 

“Yes?” 

“Remember that favor that you owe me?”

His mind goes blank.

“For the picture.”

Ahh. Right. He forgot about that, he had no need for it given that he sees her even with his eyes shut at this point, with those lips wrapped pretty around his cock. 

“Vaguely.” 

He’s on the edge of his seat, waiting for the magic words so that he can crawl on his hands and knees and do to her what she’s been doing to him, for hours and hours until she’s begging and crying for his cock -

“Yoohoo!” She waves her hand around. “I said are you down?” 

“Absolutely.” He spits out, then blinks in confusion. “Wait, for what?”

“Little dinner tonight. At my house.” 

Uhhhh…

“What’s the favor exactly?”

“You’ll find out when you get there.”

He has an idea what the favor is when he shows up at her door with flowers, and Jimin meets him there with two bottles of rose. 

“I thought we were doing girl’s night.”

“I thought she was going to blow me again.”

They stare at each other in fear and solace as she opens the door. Jungkook looks for clues in her outfit but finds none - it’s a matching set of black linen shorts and a black linen button up. Both slightly sheer, but only to the excessively watchful eye. This eye can also discern that her panties are red. Jungkook’s certain of it. 

“Girl, why the fuck would you call me over when he’s here dressed like that?” Jimin huffed out, plopping down on Y/N’s living room couch, brown leather, tufted. He crosses his legs and glares at Jungkook a bit, clearly pissed at the intrusion to girl’s night. 

Jungkook blushes slightly at Jimin’s comment and looks down at his body - did he look whorish? He had on his tight black jeans, a fitted black button up. Maybe a little too much cologne on. Oh god, was he wearing too much cologne?

“And he smells like a body spray convention. The elevator ride was awful,” Jimin added, eyes watching Jungkook as if to say I-can-read-your-mind. Jungkook stuck his tongue out at him as Y/N turned around to reach for her bottle opener. 

“I just figured we’d bond a little.” She said, grunting as she pulled the cork off the first bottle, pouring generous servings into three wine glasses. She turns around with all three balanced in her hands. “Isn’t it good to bond?”

Jimin’s eyes twinkle in a sick way, and Jungkook is hyper aware of some secret conversation taking place in between them. 

“Without Namjoon?” Jungkook asks, grabbing one of the glasses from Y/N, who then marches over to Jimin, sitting comfortably on his lap and handing his glass over to him. Jimin has, notably, uncrossed his legs and widened his stance, making him appear slightly more masculine than he usually does.

His hair, which is also usually pulled back into a feminine half do, is loose tonight, reminiscent of some sexed up 70s rock star. 

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. 

Is this a competition? First Namjoon, and now the gay secretary?

First of all, he would like it on the record that he suspected it. Namjoon was an idiot for trying to dissuade him off of it. 

Jungkook puts the flowers down on her dining table, then chugs his glass of wine down, letting the duo gawk at his jawline as he gulps the liquid. 

He wipes his lips when he’s done and pushes his glass towards Y/N. 

“More please.”

“Get it yourself.”

“I want you to get it for me.” He sounds angry, Y/N smiles. Jimin pinches her arm. Jungkook seethes.

But she obeys, gets up, refills his glass, hands it to him, and Jungkook feels that she’s received the message, that she’ll move off his lap, but no. She immediately goes back to it. Perched just on his knee. Jimin casually holds onto her hip, lips biting down on a smile. 

Jungkook chugs the second glass. Holds it out again. 

This process continues until Jungkook has finished both bottles and somehow convinced the trio to sit on the floor - away from each other’s laps. 

“Jungkook, do you want to hear the story about how Y/N and I slept with the same guy?”

No, no he really didn’t. But Jimin told the story anyway, culminating in a holiday party showdown, where Jimin and Y/N - allegedly - made out in front of the guy, who ended up going home with someone else.

“But that’s how I found out that it’s fun to kiss Jimin. He’s great at it.” Y/N blabbers, sipping at the bottle of tequila she opened for her and Jimin in an attempt to catch up to Jungkook’s inebriation. 

Jungkook glares at Jimin and Jimin winks at Jungkook. 

“Who’s better?” Jungkook asks. 

Y/N can’t help it - she smiles wide. Jungkook wants to slap her - she’s getting exactly what she wants. Again. 

“Hard to say…” she says, looking over at Jimin, who’s staring her down like she’s a piece of cake. 

Oh, come on! The gay guy??

“We haven’t kissed in so long. I feel like you’d need a reminder.” Jimin slurs, tongue grazing the little bend to his front tooth, eyes swimming with something dangerous. 

“I mean just from memory’s sake,” Jungkook cuts in, looking between the two in a deep panic. “Memorability should count towards the score.”

“No, that wouldn’t be fair,” Y/N muses, absentmindedly biting onto her pointer finger as she stares at Jimin, subconsciously lifting her hips off the ground to readjust herself as she lies on her back on the floor, knees bent. 

Oh, Jungkook is seeing red. 

“Hey!” He calls out, clapping his hands once. “We have work tomorrow. I think it’s about time we wrapped up…” under his breath he mutters whatever this is… “and went to bed.”

“Yeah, Mr. Jeon. You should go home,” Y/N continues to muse, mewl, and Jimin is eating it up. (friendly reminder - a homosexual man). 

“Get your eight hours.” Jimin urges, hand reaching out to tap Y/N’s leg in approval. 

“I’m not tired.” 

Their eyes peel away from each other to look at him - amused. 

He gulps.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asks, eyebrows furrowed in an awful fake showing of worry. “You’re the one that asked to go to bed.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. 

“What’s the favor?” 

Y/N smiles, Jimin looks confused.

“What?”

“Mr. Jeon owes me a favor.” Y/N says, finger still nagging at her lip. Distractingly. 

Jimin smiles. 

“What are you plotting, you crazy thing?” 

Y/N giggles.

“I overheard the convo today. Heard Jeon’s tired of receiving.” 

“Uhoh,” Jimin teases, jokingly widening his eyes at Jungkook, but it’s too late - Jungkook is already scared.

“So, I thought maybe he could give back.” 

“No,” Jimin says with a laugh, kicking her legs off his lap. 

She whines. 

“Jimin,” she moans, legs outstretching to kick at him lazily, “it would be fun.” 

Jungkook is flushed pink. A million thoughts are running in his head. 

“Y/N, you’re being mean to Jungkook.” Jimin chastises, standing up and walking away with an amused smile on his face. 

Y/N quickly glances over to Jungkook - a flash of anger that reads I-want-it-why-dont-i-have-it-why-cant-i-have-it.

Jungkook sighs and grabs Jimin’s calf before he walks off. Tentatively, he looks up at the blonde man. 

He’s definitely not bad looking. 

“I’m open to it if you are.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and crouches down to Jungkook’s height, brushes his hair out of his eyes kindly. He seems to appreciate the absolute brink of desperation that Y/N has brought him to. 

Jungkook would do anything for her at this point. 

“Jungkook, do you really want to blow me?” 

Jungkook thought about it - did he want to blow Jimin? No. Did he want to do whatever Y/N asked him to do? Abso-fucking-lutely. 

Jimin sighed, stood up and looked at Y/N, ready to alter her proposal.

“What’s your counter offer?” Y/N didn’t have to think it through.

“Instead of a break, why don’t you give Jungkook a change of pace?”

“I blow him?”

Jungkook looks off into the distance with a wry looking frown, like why not? 

“I’m not opposed to that at all.” Jimin says, his smile widening. 

Jungkook insists on doing this in Y/N’s secluded movie room. 

He doesn’t want anyone other than the two of them in her bedroom, on her bed. 

He doesn’t know how to explain the feeling, but they slept there together. 

It’s sacred.

On her expansive sectional, which they pull out to its full potential, there is plenty of space for Jungkook to lay splayed out - shirt off at the duo’s request and pants still on at his - and for Jimin to lay down between his legs - his gorgeous outfit still on - a sheer t shirt, tight black pants - and Y/N sitting on her knees next to Jungkook, still fully clothed.

Jungkook wishes he had the courage to ask her to take her shirt off. 

“I feel like you guys are going to sue the living shit out of me,” Jungkook moans out when Jimin takes his head into his mouth. Jungkook immediately curls up, sensitive from the one he had received in the afternoon, after Y/N had delivered her invite (you think she left without one?), and Y/N takes that opportunity to lay his head on her lap, her hands softly soothing his hair as Jimin does his magic. 

And it’s magic indeed. 

Jungkook isn’t surprised to learn that a good blowjob is a good blowjob, but he’s more surprised at Y/N’s amazement. That’s all that he can look at as Jimin works his magical magic on him. She kisses him through it, pulls at his hair, massages his scalp, lets him kiss her too whenever he wants to. 

He’s so loud, so pliable, and Y/N’s approval of the whole thing only eggs him on. 

“Fuck, you two are,” Jungkook tries to straighten himself up a bit, takes a look at Y/N and Jimin, watches them look at each other. Jungkook can’t think - can’t put two brain cells together to form a sentence. 

So, instead, he pulls at Y/N’s chin, forces her attention away from Jimin, so he can kiss her again, but he kisses her a little angry, a little fired up. 

When he tears away, he does so with a plan. 

He glares into her soul.

“Are you going to sit there doing absolutely nothing?” 

She blinks in shock. She could have sworn he was about to fall apart.

Even Jimin halters, mouth upticking in delight at the authoritative voice. 

“Go down there, and help him, you useless slut.”

Y/N’s eyes shine, something devious swimming behind them. 

“No.” she says, mouth twisting into a proud smile. 

“No?” 

“No.” She repeats. 

Jimin giggles for a millisecond. Jungkook’s eyes shoot down.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Jimin chokes down his smile.

“No, sir.” 

“Right.” 

Jimin takes him back into his mouth and Jungkook turns his attention back to Y/N. 

Wraps his fingers around her throat. She’s loving it.

“Do I have to ask again?”

She doesn’t respond. 

Jungkook isn’t sure what takes over him. 

He slaps her. 

A solid slap, just above her jaw bone. 

Y/N’s mouth falls agape, her irises blow out in a second. 

Jimin chokes on him, moans. 

Jungkook pushes his head down.

“Should I ask again?” Jungkook’s speech is low and slow, and Y/N feels drunker than she actually is. She scoffs a bit, more bewildered than offended, as she joins Jimin in between Jungkook’s thighs. 

Once she settles, she’s met with the return of evil Jungkook. 

He’s had enough of her torture, her abuse. 

He should get to have fun, too.

Especially when he has access to such enthusiastic participants. 

“You never answered me. I still want to know who’s the better kisser.” Jungkook comments, his lips twitching over his teeth, canines showing with every hint of a smile. “But I want a fair game. Give it your best shot, Jimin.”

Jimin smiles. 

“Be careful what you ask for.” He sings, lifting Y/N up to sit up on her knees, and Jungkook goes internally crazy at how easy she just goes along with him. How she lets him do whatever - grab her waist, kiss her lips, move his hands down to grab her ass.

Jungkook stirs, but Jimin doesn’t let up, pushes Y/N down into the sheets, grinds into her, pushes her hand into the cushions.

“Jimin.” Jungkook calls out. 

Jimin, dutifully, pulls off of Y/N the second he hears the first syllable of his name. 

Y/N giggles.

“Thought you’d at least get a boner.” She chimes, absolutely melted into the sheets as she does.

Jimin cackles.

“Fun to watch, but still not my cup of tea.”

Y/N continues to giggle - no shame, no regrets. 

Jimin peels off of her, gives her a friendly peck, and then winks at Jungkook, who’s staring at Y/N like he’s going to ruin her. 

“Thanks for the show. I’ll see myself out.”

Y/N stares at the ceiling as Jimin walks out, the sound of the front door ringing loud and clear. 

She seems to understand that some form of punishment is awaiting her because she has that look in her eyes - something like submission.

“Are you mad?” She asks.

“Why don’t you ask me to touch you?”

He’s managed to tuck himself back into his pants. 

Well, his boxers. There is absolutely no chance of him zipping these jeans over the hard on he’s supporting right now. 

She looks puzzled. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “I’ve never really had to ask before.”

His stomach stirs a bit.

“You’d just let me do whatever I wanted, then?” He asks. “What do you want me to do?”

She hums, stretches a little on the couch. 

“I like that idea.” She muses, just like she did with Jimin, legs pressing together. “You doing whatever you want to me.”

He wishes for a moment that she could see into his thoughts so she’d understand how dangerous of an idea that is. So that she’d run away from him. 

“I think you’d sue me for real if I did that.”

She perks up. Sits up on her elbows.

“Test me.”

He smirks, looks down at her shirt, which has ridden up all the way to her stomach, exposing the smallest bid of her bare abdomen, right above her panties, which are an absolute work of art poking out from her shorts. He walks up to her like it’s all so very natural and crawls between her legs before pulling the linen shorts down to leave her clad in them, meeting no resistance from her tired, stretched out body. 

French stitching on the panties. Jungkook’s weak point.

He breathes through his nose and hooks his arms under each leg, holding onto them to pull her taunt against his mouth. 

The second the cloth at her center hits his nose he takes another strong inhale, eyes slowly peeling open to stare at her wrecked face.

His teeth lightly graze over her center, his tongue comes out to give the cloth a strong lick, and he gets his first inklings of the taste of her. 

He feels like a rabid dog.

She’s no better.

She is trying her hardest to stay quiet - she doesn’t seem to much like the sound of her moans - and she's digging little crescents into her palm with her sharp manicured nails as she tries to comprehend the pleasure that wrecks her body. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs mindlessly, eyes fluttering up to take her in, and she giggles. 

He doesn’t like that. 

Quick slap at her thigh. 

Her smile falters.

“Is something funny?” he asks, curtly before pulling the moistened fabric to the side, and his heart skips a beat. 

Pretty indeed. 

She squirms, hips chasing his lips but he lays his heavy palm against her stomach just in time, pushing her down into the mattress.

“Do I need to tie you down?” 

She shakes her head. 

“No, no, I don’t really like that.” she quickly mutters, a certain panic coming about her. 

That gets his attention. 

He looks up at her from between her legs. 

“But the belt…”

“That was different.”

He raises an eyebrow. 

He takes one more look at her pretty pussy before sketching his plan out in his head. 

He slowly rises from between her legs, climbing over her, and pressing his hard member against her wet, panty-clad pussy. 

She falls back on the couch with a pitched whine, hands coming up to grab at his jaw, but recoiling them back to her chest when she sees that  look in his eyes. 

“What is it, Y/N?” He asks, hips digging into her again. Her eyes roll back, and so do her hips.

His heart swells at how much she likes grinding against him like that. 

“Do you not trust me?” He accuses, turning his voice an octave to evoke pity, forgetting entirely that that wouldn’t work with her. Whining won’t get him what he wants here. 

He opts back to fear, adrenaline. 

“Are you scared of what I might do?” he whispers, grinding his hips in place, lightly circling them, making her part those pretty lips as his members nestled into her warm center. 

“J-Jungkook-”

He grabs her hands. Pins them down. 

“Scared that I won’t stop?” 

His eyes flicker, dangerously. 

Fear flashes a little deeper in her irises.

“Oh, that’s it. Little Miss Y/N is scared of her boss’s cock.” 

Y/N’s eyes are wide, lips are pouted, and looking at them now he wonders why he ever had the heart to complain about those blowjobs?

They weren’t enough. And he egged them on, didn’t he? It’s not like she was some cock gargling genius. 

She’d pull him into a closet, a room, wherever they could find some privacy, and she didn’t need to do much else. He’d shoot her a beggard look, and she’d kiss him through it and in a matter of minutes, he’d have her on her knees, thrusting his cock in and out of her mouth at his leisure. 

He can’t help it. He can’t help it then, in the closet, or now, on her couch. 

“You’re a smart girl.” he praises, raising his chest up to stare down at her, bringing a hand up to pick at the buttons on her linen top. 

One button, two buttons, three, he sees her matching red bra. 

He lets go of her hands, and without permission and without even taking a single look at her, he grabs her breasts through her bra, massaging down onto them, as his mind floods with images of his cock pushed against them.

“I wouldn’t stop,” he continues, letting go of her breasts to drag a hand down her stomach and around the red fabric covering heaven’s gates for him. 

He twists the little thing around his finger, tugs. 

The noise she lets out is unimaginable. Unrepeatable. Sick. 

The tight cotton digs into her, and he can’t help but repeat the action, eliciting another delicious sound from her. 

“Even if you begged,” he said, signature smile hanging off his lips. “Even if you cried.”

She whimpers, oh god, she whimpers.

Jungkook caves in at that, body dropping back down to kiss her, hold her, run his hands all over her, pushing and pulling until he’s somehow pulled her shirt over her head and her shorts down with them. 

“I’m sorry about the Jimin sabotage.” She mumbles into his lips in the middle of kissing. 

He pulls away to cover her mouth with his hand as he kisses down her abdomen. 

He doesn’t want to hear about Jimin. 

She seems to get that. Because once his mouth leaves her mouth to grab her thighs and tear them open she goes back to it. 

“I was just really curious, what you would - umphmmmm-”

He cuts her off with a throw pillow over her face, pressing down lightly until she gets the idea. 

His mouth wastes no time to take advantage of the momentary silence to focus. 

Hips tongue is careful and reserved as it licks into her - never fully giving it to her, just little kicks, blows of air, torturing, teasing moves. 

She squirms, grabs the pillow and bites down to it.

“Good girl,” he growls, straight into her, and she moans to her heart’s content against that pillow. “If you stay still, I’ll give you a treat.”

She tries.

As he drags her panties down, breathes them in right before her eyes, then leans back down to circle a pointer finger around her entrance, never poking in, just circling, she tries.

She tries hard to stay still, to not move, to not make a noise. 

But it’s war to her. 

Jungkook sees it in her face, how concentrated she is, how stressed out she looks - she wants that treat.

“What do you want, pretty girl?” he asks, pecking her clit with air like pressure. Barely grazing. 

“I told you, I don’t do dirty talk-”

He slaps her. Like her. Like down there. He has never done that to anyone before. 

She shuts up with a yelp, biting down onto her hand in a moment of true desperation. 

“That’s not what I asked for. Are you stupid?” 

His dick twitches when she hums, bites harder onto her hand. 

“Do you want to insult me back?” 

She doesn’t answer.

“Good girl.”

He thinks it’s time, and pushes that torturous pointer finger into her, mouth falling agape at the immediate grip he feels around it. 

Completely enveloped, sucked in. 

One knuckle in, and she’s done. She’s squirming, pushing down, and pissing Jungkook off, so he takes his finger away, makes her whine, loud and annoying. 

“Shut up.” he orders, pulls her legs back to him again and slaps his mouth over her. 

No more Mr. Nice Guy. 

His tongue is all over her. It’s not his fingers, but she seems more than happy to accept his tongue on their behalf. 

He shoves it as deep inside her hole as he can, flicking the tip of the muscle up to graze the tight ring around her entrance, flicking it back and forth and rubbing a delicious pattern until he feels her gush a bit around his lips. 

“Tsk, tsk, dirty girl.” He whispers, kissing her clit again before grazing his teeth just the lightest bit over the bud. He lets his fingers join in. Pushes two in, doesn’t care that it’s tight. Doesn’t care that she tries to push away. 

“Oh, you can take that,” he brushes it off, slowly thrusting them back and forth, twisting them together to once again massage the top wall of her pussy, driving her insane. 

“I-I’m going to -” She can’t form the sentence.

“You have no idea, do you?” He chuckles, dark and cruel. “No idea how hard you’re about to cum.”

Vanilla doesn’t mean untalented, at the end of the day. He’s always been good at this. 

He pulls up again, fingers still in her, and kisses her with that mouth. She moans but tries to pull away, not exactly ecstatic about tasting herself, but that only motivates Jungkook further. 

He pulls away, takes his fingers out and pushes them past her lips, lets her groan and whine and complain around them as she tries to push him away. 

“Relax,” he breathes into her ear, biting down into the lobe as he pressed those fingers down on her tongue, rubbing the residue against her taste buds. 

She hums in disapproval, but he doesn’t care, he pushes them further, hears her gag. Watches her gag. 

“I should just hold you down and shove my cock in there,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. “Since that’s all you seem to be good for.”

“Jungkook,” she finally moans out, managing to rip his fingers away. “Y-you’re-”

“Nuhhuh, I don’t think so,” he groans out, slapping his hand over her mouth again and mounting her, pinning her down under his muscular body. 

His one arm holds down both of hers, the other holds a hand to that loud, annoying mouth. 

“You’re not going to bitch about what I’m doing to you after you tried to get me to suck a guy off. I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

She seems to think it over. Seems to adjudge that as fair.

“Now, do you trust me?” 

He lifts his hand. She opens her mouth. He shakes his head. 

“I don’t want you to speak.”

She thinks. Nods. 

“Okay, good.” He gets off of her, picks her up and tosses her over his shoulder, walks the short path to her bedroom. 

He drops her on the bed, almost mindlessly, and gets to searching, digging through her drawers.

“What are you doing?” She asks, her patience only a second long.

“What did I say about talking?” He grunts, digging through the next drawer.

“Maybe I could help.”

He ignores her.

“Jungkook, I will call Jimin back in here to fuck me-“

“I’m going to tie you up.”

He turns to face her, slightly out of breath. She’s gone pale. 

“You tried to get me to suck a guy off - not exactly my forte - and you don’t like being tied up. So, it’s only fair that I get to do something you don’t like.”

She thinks about it. She’s finding it hard in her half delirious half orgasm drunk head to argue against it, but her distaste overpowers her fair assessment.

“I- I might have something but…”

Deep down, Jungkook suspected it. Even if she didn’t like being tied down, she most definitely did it to other people.

There were cuffs, rope, something else somewhere in that house. 

He shot her a look.

She blushed, pulled her legs in toward herself, suddenly shy about being so exposed.

“No.” She whispered quietly. “I don’t like it.” 

He was determined. 

He had been borderline stalking, obsessing over this woman for the past eight months. He should know where she would hide her little sex box.

He takes a quick look around the room. But he doesn’t need to peruse for long because her eyes betray her. 

They dart over to her boudoir, a large drawer on the bottom. Just for a second. Locked, but with the key still in the hole.

Bingo.

Her eyes go wide. She doesn’t try racing him to it - no use. But she does start shaking her head, retreating to the top of the bed. He is amazed by her collection.

Cuffs, yes - real ones by the way. Not the frilly cute ones they sell in the kits. Jungkook hasn’t used either in his 33 years of living but he immediately understands the gravity of the former.

But his eyes can’t stay on them for long because he’s sooner greeted with lubes - water AND oil based - vibrators, pretty glass dildos, a paddle with “slut” engraved on it, a small whip, and some cat ears and choker collars to match. 

His eyes twinkle when he sees a silver glint and cruelly decides to lift up the smallest butt plug he’s ever seen in his life. 

He looks back at her. “Well, this is quite humble.”

She blushes, jumps to her feet, and snatches some shorts off of the floor and pulls them over her hips. 

Puts on a random t-shirt, starts marching over to him. He doesn’t comment on these attempts to call it quits. He’s past caring about what she’s decided. 

He protectively stands in front of the drawer, ready to defend his newly discovered basket of goods with his life if he must.

But Y/N doesn’t seem to see the humor or the charm he has in the situation. She grabs the thing out of his hands and shoves it back into the drawer, snapping it close.

Jungkook corners her against the desk on instinct.

“I think we should take some time off work. Maybe a whole week.” He jokes, leaning down to kiss her, but she dodges it. He laughs, nibbling on her ear. “I don’t know where to start.”

She quickly and suddenly shoves him off.

“Hey-“ he begins, voice immediately strung up with worry. She shakes her head and tries to, as subtly as possible, make herself a little smaller.

“That’s not a to-do drawer.” She states. “That’s a tried-it-and-never-want-to-try-it-again-drawer.”

Stupid look back on his face- puzzled, confused, how could that possibly be true?

“You seem to have this idea that I’m some sex maniac just because I ask for what I want when I want it.”

Jungkook hesitates but nods, not ashamed of his honesty in front of her.

“And I get what I want when I want it.”

He hesitates and nods. 

“But that doesn’t mean I want other people to have what they want. Especially if I hate what they want.”

Jungkook continues to nod.

“And what if you make them do something they hate?”

“They should have stopped me, I guess. But I usually know that they want it - why would I try to get what I want at the hates-what-I-want store?”

Jungkook laughs. Frowns. That’s not good. Whatever he doesn’t give her, she’ll just go to someone else for it. How is he supposed to live with that?

“So, you’ve tried all of this?” He asks, trying to change the topic. “Everything in that drawer?”

“Yeah.” teeth nibbling at her bottom lip. 

“Didn’t like any of it?”

“Not on me. I liked doing it to people.”

She looks like she has never said this out loud before because although her expression doesn’t change, he sees the ostracization on her face - the slow realization that she sometimes gets in a room when she realizes she doesn’t have anything in common with anyone.

Jungkook sees it happen, constantly, when the trio in the office talk about things like friends, relationships, or any beneath-the-surface feelings. 

He thinks, grabs her hips, pulls her a little close. He leans his head down to kiss her as if it’s nothing - as if she is his - and she lets him, and he smiles because now he knows that she likes it - wants his kiss. The lack of resistance is his only affirmation from her. 

Goes right into the handbook. 

“You smile a lot when you kiss.”

“When I kiss you,” he moans out, smile widening. 

He hears her laugh. He listens like it’s heaven’s harps. 

She tries to hug him a little closer, kiss him a little deeper. But he stops her, pushes at her abdomen, right above where he actually wants to touch (which was fully bare by the way - lasered? Waxed? Has to be. Can’t imagine her standing a single strand of hair on her body) and she lets herself fall back against the desk, letting him corner her in. 

Only then does he lock their lips - lets her have it. 

Lets her writhe against him, lets her enjoy it before lifting her up by the back of the thighs and plopping her down on the desk. 

His lips move off of her lips and find her ear, hands manually moving her hips against his. She doesn’t fight it, but she doesn’t exactly assist either - like a baby needing to be rocked.

“Is there anything we did that you tried before?”

“What are you asking?” 

She pulls away. Stills her hips more intentionally so he can’t move her any more. 

He shrugs, feeling out his way to his intentions.

“Did you maybe do something you hated before… with me and you maybe liked it?”

“Is there something you suspect?” 

He’s almost glad that she just cuts to the chase, being new to these intentions himself. He feels just as impatient as she does, but he has to cage it whereas she can unleash it. He can’t risk scaring her off. He’ll die if she ever stops wanting to sleep with him. 

“The spanking.”

She shakes her head.

“I never minded spanking.”

“Yeah, but you liked it.”

She gulps a little.

“Not just didn’t mind it.”

“Point made.”

“AND, and, also - the belt.”

She sighs, lips pursed in annoyance.

“Yeah, the belt.”

She seems pissed at that one. He can see why. 

“You know, it can be kind of liberating getting tied up. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Have you tried?”

He shakes his head. 

She rolls her eyes and grunts, pushing him off so that she can stand up. 

“Why would I let you try it on me, then, god, Jungkook sometimes you say the stupidest-”

His eyes shift. His mood shifts. 

In an instant, Y/N feels him grow steady and unmovable in front of her and his hands easily find her wrists, his long fingers wrapping around them with a tight squeeze.

She doesn’t want to look into his eyes, but something inside of her feels pleased. She feels really pleased with herself when she makes this darker side of Jungkook appear - when she makes him mean and cruel. 

She’s not sure why. She doesn’t care to know why. She just knows that it’s so much fun. 

“Apologize.”

He orders, eyes chasing hers when she refuses to look at him. 

He’s had it when she twists her head to the side, so he drops her hands and grabs her jaw, keeping her eyes locked on his. 

“No. It was stupid. We’re not in a professional setting, I’m allowed to say stupid-”

He is hard beyond imagination as he presses himself into her again. 

“Apologize.” He insists, teeth getting tighter with each request. 

She mulls it over. This is an invitation.

“Or what?”

And she accepts. He smiles. Lets her go because he knows she’ll listen when he nods towards the bed. 

And she sighs, but she’s a big girl so she willingly saunters over to her bed, takes off her shirt and shimmies out of the shorts on the way over, really giving him a show of it, extending her tiny waist, brushing her hair back to show off the length of her back. 

Then, she takes it a step further, and he watches it all as he leans down to fetch the cuffs. 

He can see it - the tiniest bit of shudder and goosebump through her performance - but if it was anyone else, they would think that she couldn’t care less. As if it didn’t scare her at all. The speed at which she can adapt and mask is impressive.

He sees through it, but enjoys her confidence as she unfastens her bra and drops in one swoop, revealing the most perfect tits he could have ever imagined. 

Fully nude, she holds her hand outs, pouts a little at him.

“Have at it.”

He smirks, walks over, trying his best not to drool and to hold his composure, as he slowly shakes his head with each step, making her face drop in worry. 

“Not like that, pretty.”

He looks at her bed posts. She looks at him.

“No.”

He smiles - yes. 

“It’s only fair that I get even.”

“There has to be another way.”

“What do you think I’m going to do exactly?”

His words are starting to get rushed, and he really needs her to go ahead and make a decision because - if you need to be reminded - she’s fully naked in front of him, and he’s about to lose his mind. 

He has never wanted something so close yet so unattainable.

They also have work tomorrow. 

This is a disaster. 

But he can feel it - see it - her caving in. 

“I want a safeword.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

They settle on yellow. 

It takes approximately a millisecond into Jungkook cuffing the first pair to the post - not even to her wrist yet - for her to go: 

“Yellow.” She was standing behind him, arms crossed over her chest, and her pretty pussy just hanging out as if it was nothing. As if they were Adam and Eve in the garden. 

He could barely look at her. 

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t realize how far apart they were. What if my arms cramp?

He clicks the cuff into place, then turns around, grabs her face into his hands and kisses her down into the bed. 

Pliable as ever, she melds down, moans into his mouth, licks back hungry and plainly and needily rubs herself against his boner - no shame. 

Amid the kiss, he reaches out, grabs the cuff and slams it onto one of her wrists. 

She yelps and pulls away, tugs at it immediately. 

Jungkook is off her the second he realizes that the wood of her bed is sturdy enough for this venture and he grabs the other pair, quickly repeats the process and steadies her into place. 

She squirms a little, looks at him unsure, then she his exhausted expression and stills. 

He is truly exhausted. He wouldn’t mind taking the whole thing apart and pulling him into his chest and going to bed. 

But there is this animalistic need in him that cannot stop. It can’t stop because it doesn’t know when it’ll start again. 

She’s as awake as ever, the little nymph. 

“I don’t know about this Jungkook.” she starts to complain, hands tugging at their restraint - futile. Why does she even try? 

“Let’s talk Y/N. Just talk. While you get… adjusted.”

His invite sounds friendly, but he knows it’s infuriating. He did place the cuffs a bit high, lifting her arms above her head so that her chest is perfectly on display for him, and she can’t cover herself.

It makes her lie flat, makes it hard for her to stare back at him. 

“This is humiliating.” She mutters, and he hears something like tears. Maybe frustrated ones.

He can’t bear to see them at the moment but he does wait for the safeword. See if she’ll use it. It doesn’t come, but she does cross her legs, trying to stop him from staring directly into her. 

Makes him smile at her humility. 

“I have a question.”

She stays silent.

“This flirting with coworkers thing - how long has it been going on?”

She shifts, pulls at the cuffs a little, almost out of boredom. 

“I don’t know. Forever. Since law school, I guess.”

He nods, jaw pulls.

“How often have you made out with Jimin?” He asks, and thank god for the circumstances or he would have felt like a bitchy boyfriend.

In this light, he gets to feel a bit like a detective - bad cop. 

“Uh, I don’t know. A handful.” 

“Is that what you two do on girls’ nights?” He asks, adjusting against the wall he’s been leaning on. He mindlessly palms himself through his boxers, subconsciously tries to calm the damn thing down. He needs to get to the bottom of this. 

“I mean, yeah, usually, I guess.”

“Just kiss?”

“Yeah. For fun.”

“For fun?”

“I don’t know, we just do it. Why do you care?” 

Jungkook laughs, bewildered. He forgets where he is for a moment.

“Youre insane.” he cackles and she blushes in anger. 

“Did you really tie me down to interrogate me?” 

He gets up, sits on the bed, towering over her figure - eyes slightly teary, lips bitten and red, hair a halo. 

His fingers land on her abdomen and his eyes respectfully stare only at that patch of skin, scared to indulge in all of this too soon. He wants to drink it in - like a nice glass of whiskey.

Her hips shift, her muscles concave under his touch as if to get away. 

He softly chuckles, fingers grazing over to her hip bones, possessively grabbing the whole thing in his hand. He likes how easily she fits into him. 

“I want to really touch you, Y/N.” Jungkook admits, fingers splaying over, inching towards the start of her ribs. 

She tries to extend her bodice away. 

“I don’t know,” she murmurs into her arm, turning her gaze away from him. 

He won’t have it, he turns her head, kisses into her mouth - she whimpers, way louder than before. 

“You don’t like it?” He asks, pulling away just a centimeter, letting his lips graze hers as he spoke. 

“N-not sure.” She’s honest. “Just keep going.”

“How?” He asks, body leaning down to nuzzle against her restrained body. “Tell me how,” he begs, ears hot on her neck, her ear. 

She lets out a frustrated breath, trying to wriggle away from the heat of his body. 

“This is hardly fair,” she complains, feeling lost. “Maybe just let me out.” 

Her cuffs jingle. He raises an eyebrow, waits for the word, but it doesn’t come. He lets his hand fall between them, just lightly resting right where her lips separate - just barely grazing the wetness that’s developed there.

He controls himself the best he can and doesn’t react, just stares deep deep into her eyes.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, genuinely curious.

She pulls at the cuffs, doesn’t say anything back.

“I can only help you if you let me,” he whispers, mouth coming down to lend a peck just right above her breast, longing for more, but scared to try. 

She writhes, breathes out, relaxes the tiniest bit.

“Thinking about your fingers, why they won’t just go in me…”

He smirks against her skin, his teeth coming out the tiniest bit to graze in his lips’ absence as he pulls up to kiss her, fingers still teasing along her folds, just feeling the wetness and torturously tickling the bundle of nerves there.

He knows that the potential of where he can press, where he can rub - it’s ruining her. Her hips try to chase the touch but he immediately recoils his touch to hold her hips down, rubbing the head of his cock against her instead. 

Big mistake - his head gets caught on her entrance for the slightest second, and he feels the resistance of the tight ring and damn near cums all over her then and there.

“Y/N -” Her name leaves his lips in a gasp, in a higher pitch - in a breathy prayer - he sounds like he’s calling out to her from the edge of a cliff.

She moans, but her face is riddled with concern. Her chest is blushing under the tension. He can tell that she’s scared of him fucking her like this. 

He takes a deep breath, wordless but still in full communication with her as he stills his breathing and focuses all his might on just rubbing his head against her wet, warm folds - never giving into the temptation of forcing his whole length in at once.

“J-Jungkook-”

“How about Mr. Jeon?” 

She smiles. 

“Okay, Mr. Jeon -” her delicious hum of his name is cut off by him dipping his head against her entrance again - making her lips fall into a perfect, gentle little “o”, accompanied by a sweet, delightful noise. 

He goes right back to torturing her clit, circling the hard, heavy head against the nerves with just the right pressure, with just the right speed before opting for back and forth, imagining in his head her doing this on top of him, all on her own. 

Maybe sinking down on it - 

She lets out a genuine gasp - loud, sudden - followed by an unearthly sob, and Jungkook is enveloped in a sudden warmth that makes him throw his head back.

He accidentally slips a good two, thick inches into her in the middle of his little daydream. He pulls out just as quickly, by a will so strong he could have moved mountains with it. 

He’s holding onto his dick like it’s about to explode, and Y/N looks up at him, so desperate.

“P-Please.” She murmurs, face breaking out into a little cry. 

So, that wasn’t just his imagination. She’s actually crying - the tiniest bit - but it’s so obvious. The sudden redness to her nose, the scrunch of her eyes, and the quiver of her lip.

That psychotic smirk sneaks back over his lips.

His hand starts jerking himself without even realizing, just hovering over her body.

“Jungkook,” she begs again, “please, just -”

“What is it, baby?” He chimes, follows it up with an encouraging hum, a wet sloppy kiss to her lips. She moans into him, lets her tongue out to let him spit into her mouth - so willing, so ready.

She swallows it down - the nastiest thing he’s ever witnessed her do.

The nastiest thing he’s ever seen anyone do.

“Something, anything - your fingers, whatever, just -”

Jungkook obliges because he needs to be in there one way or another. 

He shoves two fingers into her, crosses and uncrosses them as he thrusts them back and forth, eyes locked onto her face. 

She’s immediately pulling at the cuffs, looking for her hands, anything, to bite on. 

He gives him his spare hand, shoves three fingers into her mouth, takes it out, pushes his palm down, lets her bite on it, then he can’t stand the sight and he pulls away to kiss her, and in the mess of deciding what to do with her mouth, she cums. 

With a bite to his lip, and a groan of his name, she cums all over his fingers. He’s down between her legs in seconds lapping up the excess, making her cry and beg him to stop.

But he doesn’t have to. 

“Jungkook,” she whimpers as he circled the tip point of his tongue around her clit in a focused radius. “E-enough.”

He slurps off, stares at her with a wet mouth and an evil smile as he shoves his fingers back inside, adding a third if only to hear that guttural groan. 

“What are you going to do about it?” he asks, going back to work with a laugh as he hears the rattle of the cuffs against the bed posts. “You’re done when I say you’re done,” he growls, and she gushes a little more warmth out at those words.

“Please,” she tries again, her tired face slouching against her arm. “A-anything, just not this.” 

He stares at her, waits for the word again, weighs out whether she’s even conscious enough to remember it. 

He’s not entirely convinced, and she launches another slew of appeasements.

“Jungkook, anything, please, I’ll do anything, just stop.”

He watches her, lips parted and delicious. Cheeks glowing, her whole expression just one of being fucked out of one’s mind.

He looks over, spots her phone on the night stand.

He slowly sits up between her legs, and she sighs out in relief, eyes closed, body slumped. 

“On one condition,” he offers, fingers reaching over to just touch her center - almost innocently, if it weren’t for her immediate reaction, a slight buck at his touch. 

“Anything,” she repeats, slightly annoyed. 

“I want another picture.”

She nods, nods incessantly. Anything would have done it seems. So, he grabs her phone, holds it out in front of her, and she makes no attempts to pose and has no need to.

She looks like a painting. 

Putting the phone down, he gets another idea.

“One last condition,” he offers, and she just hums, happy enough that she’s not being fondled for the most part.

He gulps before taking the leap, slowly crawling over her chest as he straddles her waist, lays his heavy cock on her breasts.

She looks up, looks down. Doesn’t say anything. 

“Open your mouth,” he says, soft. His hands grab her hair, tilt her head back slightly as she obeys, with some hesitation.

Her lips part slowly and her eyes waiver on their hold on him, but the second she gets them open enough for him to push himself through, he does. He ignores the choke and the gag around him and just pushes in.

Why did he ever complain about these blowjobs? 

God, was he out of his mind?

She lays there, takes it as he holds her hands a little higher, gets them out of his way and holds her stead as he fucks into her mouth, leaving her breathless, desperate, quivering, scared.

He’s enjoying himself infinitely, his pleasure embedding himself into his DNA.

And when she senses his closeness, and a certain panic ensues as to where, he delights himself by holding her down, shoving his cock as deep as he can, and shooting his cum down her choking, beautiful throat.

When he pulls off, he unclicks the locks on the handcuffs, too, and Y/n falls back against the bed in an instant, in a mess of cum and cough. 

He immediately kisses her, intent on making her swallow it down again, and that seems to annoy her.

She grunts and pushes him off, staring at him with a genuine anger in her eyes before kissing him - kissing him hard. 

He lets her push him onto his back, climb over him and kiss him to her heart’s content.

When she’s done, she doesn’t look at him. 

Just leans her entire body on him and lays her head on his chest.

He is all butterflies and rainbows and he holds her there, stroking her soft hair while listening for the slow of her breath. 

“I’m going to shower.” She says, it’s not an invitation.

“I’ll join.”

She complains but can’t stop him, and Jungkook justifies his intrusion by giving her the best hair wash of her life. She melts into him, and he’s hard again, but he makes it clear by dodging her advances once, twice that no more tonight. 

He felt like every time he started he couldn’t stop. And now that he knows about the cuffs, his own thoughts scare him. He knows that he really, really could.

Could chain her to that bed, and fuck her for days.

They towel dry each other’s hair, which she finds to be very dumb, but Jungkook relishes in it, watches a little bit of joy slip into her face in the foggy bathroom mirror.

They end up on her bed, fresh sheets - soft cold linen, staring out of the view of her bedroom windows - rustling trees and a dawn sky. 

“I emailed Jimin,” he tentatively confesses.

“At this hour?”

He nods. She cackles.

“No shame.”

“Oh please. What shame… You’re making out with our employees on the regular.”

He tries to ignore her reaction to him saying our. He can't quite read it.

“Just told him we’re taking tomorrow off. To clear our calendars.” 

She stares at his face, lazy and pleased in the moonlight. He’s had this sweet, intoxicating smile on his face since the shower. 

“What are you thinking about?”

He’s shocked that she asks. Shocked that she cares. She looks like she does at least.

“You’ve never had a guy spend the night twice.” 

She blushes, pushes him away, pulls her little robe set tight around her and goes to the opposite side of the bed, making him laugh and drag her back to where she belongs.

“Easy,” he whispers, laying her head on his chest again, wrapping a hand around her waist to keep her secure. “Let me have this.”

“I let you have plenty tonight.” She shoots back, head lifting up for a moment but he forces it back down, shushes her.

“I could have taken more.” He says, bit of a curt reminder. She gets the idea, behaves herself. Relaxed into his hold and stops fighting it.

“How do you feel about me?” He asks, needing a reminder. 

“We’re not playing the game anymore.”

He turns towards her a little, picking up her hand in his. She rips it away. 

“Come on,” he whispers, nose nuzzling into her ear and stomach twisting with a sudden rush of desire. 

“Can we sleep in separate rooms?” 

Jungkook growls, half jokingly. She looks very serious, very suddenly.

“I think you’re getting the wrong idea.”

Ouch. 

“Sorry,” he chuckles, looking down at her, all loving, a little dumbfounded. He registers the tension a second too late. “What does that mean?”

She sighs and pulls away from his hold to sit up. His sudden bout of embarrassment won’t let him fight it.

“It means that this is fun. I’m having a lot of fun, and I hope that you don’t get the wrong idea.”

He looks around her room, drinks the silence of the house in. 

“And what would the wrong idea be?”

His body has gone rigid, tense. She’s opted to face her desk rather than his face.

“Just some of the holding hand stuff. Some of the personal questions…”

She sounds awkward. Not direct at all. He’s never heard her NOT be direct. It pisses him off.

“Yeah? Sorry, did I cross a boundary?” His tone is cold, not very dramatic but it doesn’t take a genius to hear the mockery in it.

He watches her shoulders tense. 

“It doesn’t really mean anything. That I let you spend the night. That’s all I’m saying.”

He scoffs, more than bewildered. More than wounded. 

He watches her back with disdain, regrets all of the soft feelings he’s harbored up until that point. 

He feels stupid. He feels hot. He feels a bit betrayed. 

“Sorry, it’s just-“

“Don’t worry, I got it.” Jungkook curtly cuts her off, gets off the bed and reaches for his jeans, quickly hauling them on. 

Y/N finally faces him but he refuses to make eye contact.

“You’re leaving?”

If he wasn’t as angry and dejected as he was right now, he’d cry at the way she asks the question - confused, regretful. 

“Yeah, got the message Y/N.” He scoffs, pulling his shirt on, fumbling with the buttons like an idiot. He felt like an idiot. 

“I just meant that these things don’t-”

“Mean anything to you!” He gasped out in an exasperated laugh. “Got it! Loud and clear!”

He muttered a quick see you at work before leaving her on the bed and trudging it out of her apartment.