jeon jungkook fanfics that should be turned into a movie or a book! 🎬 (jungkook masterlist).
Thank you authors for your infinite imagination and creativity! My days are better because of you <3
Get him back by @inthelow (f!producer/writer reader x idol!jungkook) ongoing
Still don’t know my name by @dollfaceksj (jungkook x reader) completed
Kinktober D14- thigh job/ humping by @redcherrykook (jungkook x reader) completed
Play pretend by @frmisnow (best friend!jk x reader) •fake dating, friends with benefits, friends to lovers completed• part 1 part 2 part 3 completed
If i told you by @gukyi (jungkook x reader) •friends to lovers!au, college!au/ fluff, comedy, angst completed
Boy with luv by @hannieehaee (barista!reader, sub-ish!jk) completed
Can i keep you? by @mikrokcsmos (ghostjk! x reader) completed
Habits (Stay High) by @girlygguk (student plug!jk x rich girl!reader) ongoing
Teach me How to love by @kookooluvr (professor!jungkook, professor!reader) • fwb!au, co-workers!au • ongoing
Bed Chem by @muniimyg (frenemie! jk x reader) • uni au, frenemies • completed
Between the ride and the roses by @focusonkayjay (biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader) • enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn • ongoing
Calling It Now by @newmittens (jungkook x reader) • Friends to Lovers; Grad School AU • completed
Bad things by @girlygguk (jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader) • f2l, fwb au, university au • ongoing
One night stand by @buryhny (ceo!jk x graphic designer! reader) • enemies to lovers, CEO au, pregnancy trope, slowburn • ongoing
First Sightings by @kookiestiddies (jungkook x reader) • Enemies With Potential • ongoing
Total loser by @frmisnow (rockstarjk! x reader) completed
NEED TO KNOW by @hannieehaee (virgin!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, loser!jk, sub!jk x reader) • college au • completed
Unspoken by @armpirate ( Boyfriend's friend!jk, Soldier!jk x reader) completed
summary: When you meet Jungkook— an older man who is amazing in bed, you thought it would be a simple arrangement of casual sex. Except things start getting serious and before you know he’s asking you on dates and introducing you to his daughter… Of course, he doesn’t know that you’re bad with kids and never wanted one of your own— well, at least it was just something temporary… right?.
pairing: business! fem reader x dad! jeon jungkook.
genre/warning: fluff, crack, smut, angst / a lot of themes like insecurity, jealousy, death, dysfunctional family, etc.
It was close to 2 a.m when the apartment finally settled into a hush.
The city outside still hummed softly. Traffic, distant laughter, a muffled siren winding somewhere far away. But inside, the lights were dim, the bed was warm, and you were draped across Jungkook’s chest like a lazy cat who had claimed a mountain for their throne. You were both half-dressed and fully exhausted, the sheets twisted around you like the aftermath of a battle. Your hair was a mess. He had one sock on. There was an empty glass of wine on your nightstand and a forgotten phone buzzing somewhere under the pile of pillows. You had been talking for hours, about nothing and everything, the way people do when they’re in that odd, wonderful state between being lovers and being something even more dangerous.
It felt too warm and comfortable. Like a home.
“So you’re telling me,” you said, propping your chin on his chest, eyes narrowed, “that you once bleached your hair platinum blonde in high school because you thought it would make you look like Justin Timberlake?”
Jungkook let out a groan. “You told me you would never bring that up if I told you the story.”
“I’m sorry, but I physically cannot forget that image. I bet your roots looked like a reverse Oreo.”
“It was… a phase,” he said with dignity that absolutely did not exist.
“Oh, honey, no,” you laughed, dropping your head on his shoulder, still giggling. “You’re lucky you’re hot now.”
Jungkook grinned, tilting his head to kiss the top of yours. “And you’re lucky you weren’t there to see it.”
You two lay there in that warm, glowing kind of silence that feels more like a heartbeat than a pause. Your fingers were idly drawing circles on his bare defined stomach, and he had one hand behind his head and the other lazily resting on your thigh.
“I think Jimin still has a picture of it somewhere,” he added casually. “Sunni said I looked cool.”
“You will show it to me.”
“I will not.”
“You will… or I will ask your daughter to draw it from memory.”
Jungkook snorted. “You think she’s on your team now?”
“Oh, no. She hates me. But manipulating a kid is easier than an adult ,” you said with mock seriousness.
“She still calls you ‘That weird lady with good shoes’.”
“Oh, now she likes my shoes?.”
Jungkook laughed again, the sound warm and rumbling from his chest, and then he looked down at you, his hand drifting slowly up your back. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But you love me,” you said, smug.
“I do,” he said without hesitation.
You looked up, a slow, lazy smile pulling at your lips. “I know.”
You two stayed like that for a while longer. He told you about a weird customer he had earlier that week, and you told him about a new investor who kept mispronouncing your name in a pitch meeting. The conversation drifted into a familiar rhythm of jokes and nudges, gentle sarcasm, the slow entangling of two people who had unknowingly become each other’s soft place to land.
And then…
“I should probably head home soon. Got the morning shift.” Jungkook reached under you both for his phone, checking the time, and sending a voice message to answer some texts. And suddenly: “Sorry, man. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll probably be there with my girlfriend too.”
You blinked. Your whole body lifted slightly off his chest as you propped yourself up on one elbow and said, “Hold on.”
Jungkook froze, knowing what you were about to bring up. “What?”
He was trying something. He had made his feelings clear. He didn’t need a label, but he definitely wanted one with you. Being on the same page. He wanted to be sure you were on in too. You did love each other, but he wanted to be sure you were both comfortable with a label, with something that belonged to each other. He wanted to know that you wouldn’t freak out if you were outside and he decided to introduce you as a partner, not a friend nor a date.
You squinted at him. “You just called me your girlfriend.”
He blinked back, pretending to be confused. “Yeah…?”
“You never asked me,” you said, almost affronted.
Jungkook gave you a look. “Are we twelve?”
“No, but manners,” you said, voice smug again, climbing over his chest to straddle him, trying to hide a soft smile. “Don’t you like to communicate? I don’t do unofficial labels now. If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to ask.”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re actually serious.”
“I’m so serious right now”
He smirked, completely unfazed. Happy that you were only pretending to be annoyed that he didn’t asked. He put his hands on your tights, creasing them softly.
“Alright, y/n— will you be my girlfriend?”
“No.”
He blinked. “Wait, what?”
You grinned. “That was pathetic. That doesn’t count.”
Jungkook let out a bark of laughter. “You just said I had to ask! You didn’t say I had to stage a Broadway production.”
“Well, it obviously has to be romantic,” you said, hitting his chest delicately. “Do you think I only fell in love with you for your efficiency?. I love grand gestures, I don’t make the rules. I want the moment. I want balloons or string lights or I don’t know, a damn plane banner. I want expensive jewelry and maybe some shoes too…”
He leaned back against the headboard, eyes glittering. “So what, you want, like… a scavenger hunt? Skywriting? Flash mob? A ring?.”
“I want effort,” you said dramatically. “And yes, a ring would be nice too.”
“You are so high maintenance.”
“And yet,” you said, poking his chest, “here you are.”
Jungkook let out a breath and shook his head, pulling you back down to him. “Fine. You want a moment, you’ll get one. But when I do it, you better cry.”
“I cry at perfume commercials when I’m emotional,” you said smugly. “Not a high bar.”
“I’m gonna raise it.”
“I dare you.”
Your kiss tasted like challenge and sleep and something dangerously close to forever. You curled back into his arms, letting your body mold into his like it had always known the shape of him.
“Girlfriend,” he said softly, just to see your smile.
You rolled your eyes and buried your face in his chest. “Not yet,” you mumbled. “But I’m waiting.”
You were. For the first time, you weren’t afraid of the future or possibilities, not with him. You weren’t afraid to call him your partner, your boyfriend. You wanted to. You wanted to put a label too. To show you were serious too. Because you were. You loved him. And you loved the idea of being his girlfriend. Of being official… even if you had been for a long time already.
And somewhere in that quiet, domestic warmth, Jeon Jungkook knew: he was going to make you cry like hell. In a good way, clearly.
Of course, you didn’t expect for him to do it the next day.
You knew something was up the moment you walked into your apartment. For starters: it was suspiciously quiet. No music, no TV, no humming of the espresso machine you’d left on that morning. Just stillness. And your apartment was never still. It lived, it breathed. You had two phones, an army of plants, and enough mood lighting to make a K-pop video blush. There was always something going on. So the silence was weird. Weirder still: the lights were dimmed.
And on your kitchen island, sitting proudly under a beam of carefully curated golden light, was a… crown?
Not a tiara. Not something dainty. An actual, child-sized, shiny, plastic Burger King crown.
You stared at it like it might explode. And then you realized what was happening.
“Oh, no.” Before you could take another step, the closet door swung open and Jungkook stepped out. Barefoot, wearing black jeans and a fitted white shirt that was suspiciously wrinkle-free, which meant he had definitely planned this. And in his hands… “Oh my God, is that a ukulele?” you gasped.
“It is,” he said proudly. “And before you say anything, yes. I learned exactly one song.”
He started playing it. A song you couldn’t recognize because he was making mistakes all along and even not playing on the right key. He continued for a couple of seconds, looking at you with a smile. That was amused and nervous at the same time.
You blinked. “Is this… is this a bit?”
Jungkook cleared his throat, strumming two off-key chords. “Y/n y/l/n, you told me—”
“No,” you groaned, trying to hide your face behind your hands.
“—you wanted a grand gesture,” he continued, ignoring your dramatics. “You demanded romance. You said, and I quote, ‘If there aren’t lights, music, and a tiny hat involved, it doesn’t count.’”
“I definitely didn’t say that”
“Well, that’s what I heard.” You looked up then, and found him smiling. Not smirking, not teasing, just smiling. That warm, bunny, maddeningly sincere smile that made your stomach dip like the first drop on a rollercoaster. “I could’ve asked you at the park,” he went on, plucking another wildly off-tune chord, “or at dinner last week, or the night we sat on the floor eating pizza with Sunni and she told you your face was too pointy—”
“Can I hit your kid?”
“—but you said you wanted effort. So here’s effort.” He set the ukulele down gently, walked to the island, and picked up the plastic crown. Then, in the most serious tone imaginable, he crossed the room, stood in front of you, and held it up like it was forged by royal decree. “Will you do me the extreme honor,” he said, “of being my girlfriend?”
You stared at him. Then at the crown. Then at him again.
“You absolute idiot,” you whispered.
“That’s not a no,” he grinned.
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.”
“I might.”
He stepped closer, one hand slipping around your waist as he lifted the crown and placed it gently, ridiculously, on your head. “Say yes.”
You looked up at him, your hands lightly resting on his chest, your cheeks flushed from smiling too hard. It was such a bad way to do it that it just made you fluster. “You’re being such a dork right now.”
“I am,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “But I’ll be your dork. If you say yes.”
You sighed, overdramatically, like you were suffering. “Fine.”
Jungkook blinked. “Fine?”
“You can say I’m your girlfriend,” you said with a shrug. “I guess.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You guess?”
You giggled before kissing him then. Quick, smug, sweet. “You made me wear a Burger King crown, Kook. You’re lucky I’m saying yes at all.”
“Love of my life,” he whispered.
“Don’t push it.”
He laughed, wrapping you up in his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re seriously gonna make me cry.”
“You better,” you said, nuzzling into his neck. “I told you. I want emotion.”
It was dumb, not serious. A question that really didn’t need an answer because it already had been answered a long time ago. You wanted to be with him. And this way, a stupid silly way to make it official didn’t bother you at all. Because you were able to be silly with him, dumb, stupid. And you were able to see this parts of him that were childish and parts of you that were not put-together at all. And you liked that. You liked being soft, childish and emotional. You liked that part of yourself. With him.
You two stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by bad lighting, worse music, and one very victorious plastic crown. Jungkook didn’t need to say it, but he did anyway, softly against your temple. “I love you.”
This time, you didn’t hesitate. “I love you too, fucking idiot.”
And you meant it. Even with the crown still on your head.
———
It was a quiet Thursday morning at the shop, sunlight slipping lazily through the tall front windows and warming the hardwood floors. Jungkook sat at the desk in the back, sketching on a clean page of his notebook with a half-drunk coffee at his elbow. Jimin was out running errands, and the buzz of the tattoo machine hummed from the next room where their new apprentice was working on a small piece.
Jungkook didn’t hear the door at first. He only looked up when the scent of her perfume hit. Light and expensive, something with sandalwood and white musk. Familiar in a way that stirred the air more than his thoughts.
Yunna stood near the front, wearing tailored trousers, a linen blouse tucked just right, sunglasses perched on her head like an afterthought. She always had that air about her, leaving that college girl persona and becoming a mother. She always looked polished, intentional, unfazed and warm. A woman who always looked like she was coming from or going to something important.
Jungkook stood up slowly. “Hey,” he said, surprised but not unpleasantly. “Didn’t know you were stopping by.”
She offered a small smile. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d say hi.”
He gestured for her to come in. “You want coffee?”
“I just had one, but thanks,” she said, stepping deeper into the shop. “Place looks good.”
“Thanks. We finally fixed the leak in the back, so I think we might be semi-legit now.”
She laughed softly. It always was like all the years hadn’t piled up the way they had. His relationship with her was good. Mature, always too fictional and almost perfect. They always knew how to deal with each other. Specially for Sunni. They had always being too aware of her and handle their divorce friendly and in a mature way.
“How’s Sunni?” she asked.
“Good. We did a floor picnic last week. She made me wear a sparkling tiara.”
Yunna grinned. “She told me. She said she let you win at Uno.”
“She definitely didn’t.”
They shared a small laugh, the kind that people who once lived a whole life together do. But then silence drifted in. not uncomfortable exactly, but heavy with things unsaid. There was something she wanted to say, he knew. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he had met her for a long, long time. He knew her better than anyone. Jungkook moved behind the counter to busy his hands, flipping through appointment forms he’d already seen.
“I heard you and Max broke up,” he said, glancing at her briefly.
Yunna leaned against the counter, her arms crossed. “Yeah. A few weeks ago.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t a thing. He didn’t get Sunni, and I don’t do well with people who think co-parenting is a quirky personality trait.”
Jungkook gave a dry chuckle. “Fair enough.”
Yunna’s eyes lingered on him a beat longer than comfortable. “You look good.”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You sound surprised.”
She shrugged. “You used to wear the same three hoodies on rotation and survive of instant ramen. It’s good to see you keeping the mature era for so long.”
“I upgraded to five hoodies and actual groceries.”
“I’m proud,” she said, smiling. “You seem… settled. You had been for a long time. Like things are good.”
He paused for a second, tapping his fingers on the counter. “They are. I’ve got the shop, Sunni’s great, and…”
“You’re seeing someone,” she finished for him.
Jungkook nodded. “Yeah.”
“That same girl?” Yunna’s smile didn’t quite fade, but it didn’t hold as easily. “Someone really serious?”
“We’re figuring it out,” he said carefully, then added, “She’s great.”
Yunna gave a slow, thoughtful nod, looking past him for a moment at the tattoo sketches pinned up behind the desk. “Sunni mentioned her. Said she’s… weird.”
“Weird’s not bad.”
“I didn’t say it was,” she replied quickly.
Jungkook looked at her now, really looked… and there it was. Not jealousy, not bitterness, but that quiet discomfort that comes from knowing a person you once imagined a future with was finding one without you. Yunna wasn’t angry. She was nostalgic. Because Jungkook had never been serious with someone after her. He never had even introduced a girl-friend to Sunni.
“Yu,” he said, voice soft. “We’re good, right?”
She met his eyes. “Of course. You’re a great dad. A great man. I’m glad Sunni has you.”
“And you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, that poised smile returning. “Always am.” Jungkook didn’t push. She never liked being read too closely. She pushed off the counter, checked her phone, and tucked it back into her bag. “I should get going. Just wanted to say hi.”
He walked her to the door. “We should get together on Saturday. Sunni’s got a piano thing.”
“I’ll pick you up,” she said. And before she left, she paused, turned back, and added, lightly, but with something else behind it… “Tell your girlfriend I said hi.”
Jungkook didn’t respond right away, just smiled. “I will.”
She left with the same grace she entered, and he stood by the door for a moment after, staring out at the sidewalk long after she was gone. There wasn’t a storm coming. But something told him the wind had changed.
Yunna and him were always good at communicating after their divorce. Always wanting the best for their daughter. Always being good at boundaries and things like that. He wasn’t bothered when she started dating again. Not even when she introduced a man to Sunni. Jungkook knew his place. He knew Yunna would never introduce someone to her daughter without taking into consideration her feelings. Sunni had always been very understanding about it. And, after the second one, it seemed more understanding of the situation. Her parents were dating different people. Jungkook never did, always trying to grown and be better on himself. And when he tried, things really didn’t work out. It had been different with you. And now it was more serious than ever.
He wasn’t going to let that go to waste. He wasn’t even thinking about it. Because today was nothing. Just another moment with Sunni’s mom. Just another thing he had to deal with. A normal piece in his life. Co-parenting.
Later that night he saw you.
The apartment was quiet, bathed in soft amber from the kitchen underlights and the city haze seeping through the windows. You were sitting cross-legged on the couch in one of Jungkook’s t-shirts, old black one with a faded band logo, nursing a glass of red wine with your hair twisted into a lazy bun. Jungkook was in the kitchen, rummaging through your fridge for something that resembled dessert.
“You seriously have three different jars of truffle mustard but no chocolate?” he called out.
“Priorities,” you said over the rim of your glass. “I don’t get dessert cravings. I get expensive condiment cravings.”
“You need to buy real food.”
He returned with two small spoons and a half-empty jar of pistachio cream from some gourmet shop you didn’t even remember buying. He sat beside you, you knee brushing his. You dug your spoon in without hesitation.
“You know,” you said between bites, “this is disturbingly good.”
Jungkook chuckled and leaned back, wine glass in one hand. “Did you have a long day?”
“Mmm. Not the worst. Just numbers and people asking me for things I already gave them. My job is basically adult babysitting.”
“Same,” he said, laughing. “Except mine cry more and ask for dragons tattooed on their backs.”
“We should trade jobs one day.”
You two sat in silence for a moment, trading spoonfuls of the pistachio cream.
Then, unprompted, Jungkook said, “Yunna came by the shop today.”
Your eyes flicked toward him, unreadable. “Oh?”
He nodded, not looking at you yet. “We talked. Nothing big. Just catching up, really. She wanted to say hi.”
You didn’t respond immediately. You took another bite, then carefully set the jar down on the coffee table. You knew Jungkook saw her ex wife a lot, specially for Sunni. He usually let you know what he was up to. Messages like: “Leaving Sunni’s at Yunna’s house” or “Going to Yunna’s to pick up some school papers.” were something you were used to by now. It was his soft way to let you know where he was and what he was doing without making it a big deal for you. Co-parenting with your ex wife was something you learned to see and dating a man who was doing it was something you were slowly getting use to so it was his way to show he knew it could be weird but not difficult. And that you didn’t need to worry.
So it was a little weird he brought it up like it was something out of the schedule. Like a meeting that had nothing to do with Sunni nor he was aware of.
“That was weird for you?”
Jungkook shook his head. “No. I mean, not really. We see each other all the time but she never shows to the shop so It’s always…a little strange. There’s history there, but it’s not like that anymore. We’re good.”
You offered a small, neutral hum. “Okay.”
He glanced at you then. “You want to ask me?”
You blinked. “Ask what?”
“About her. About us.”
You tilted your head, curious now. “Would you actually tell me?”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “If you want to know.”
You never asked too much. Always in line. Not really having the strength to discover if you really wanted to know what made their relationship end in divorce. Not really wanting to know the reason someone would end things after marriage, a forever promise. So, for the first time, you decided to know.
You nodded, tucking your legs under you. “Then tell me.”
He took a breath, rolled the glass between his hands. “We met in college. Freshman orientation. She was smart, way smarter than me. Always knew what she wanted, even back then. We were friends for a while. Then not. Then suddenly we were.” You listened quietly, chin resting on your knee. “She got pregnant senior year. We weren’t even really together at the time. Just…complicated. But when she told me, I didn’t hesitate. I told her I wanted to be there. And I meant it.” He paused, then smiled a little. “So we tried. Got married. Moved into a too-small apartment and tried to be adults when we were basically still kids. It worked for a while. We were good at some things— co-parenting, schedules, splitting the bills. But the other parts…” You watched his expression soften into something almost wistful. “She’s brilliant. Ambitious. Her job took her everywhere. And I stayed. I had Sunni. I had the shop. We became two parallel people, running beside each other but never actually touching.” He sipped his wine, voice steady. “We didn’t hate each other. There was no big explosion. Just one day, we looked at each other and realized we were exhausted. So we ended it.”
“And you stayed friends or just friendly?” you asked.
“Both,” he said. “Because of Sunni. Because we grew up together, in a way. And maybe because deep down, we never really wanted to break each other. We just wanted something else. Not really us together.”
You were quiet for a long time, digesting it. “You make it sound so…mature.”
He looked at you. “It had to be. When you have a kid, you don’t get the luxury of being messy forever.”
You nodded slowly. “That’s… really adult.”
Jungkook reached for your hand, thumb brushing your knuckles. “We all grow in different ways.”
You looked at him, soft but sharp. “So what did you want after that?”
He leaned back into the couch, eyes on the ceiling for a moment before answering. “Something real. Not perfect, not dramatic. Just real. I didn’t want to pretend anymore. I didn’t want to perform being okay with what life gave me or just accepting what I thought I deserved. I wanted to feel real love, I wanted to work on something for me. I— I guess wanted a real relationship, not something that guide me there like things with Yunna did because of Sunni… I wanted someone who would meet me where I was.”
Your throat tightened a little at that. You weren’t sure if it was from the honesty in his voice or how easily he let you sit inside his life, even the unglamorous parts.
“And now?” you asked.
He looked at you. “Now I’m sure I found it. I want this. You. Us.”
You looked down at your intertwined hands, the quiet in the room, the smell of pistachio cream and wine and warm air, and nodded.
“Okay,” you said softly.
No declarations. No overthinking. Just a mutual understanding layered between dessert and night air. The kind of moment you never plan for, but remember for a long, long time.
It was past midnight when the apartment finally settled into silence.
The lights were low. The city outside blinked gently, far and unfocused. Jungkook had fallen asleep half an hour ago, arm draped across your waist, his breath steady and warm against your shoulder. You lay on your back, eyes open, one hand curled under your cheek, the other resting lightly over his. You weren’t tired. Your body was still, but your mind moved in loops. Not chaotic or panicked, just… thoughtful. Like you were standing at the edge of something and trying to decide whether to jump.
He had told you everything. Not all at once, not in some big, dramatic gesture. But honestly, clearly, without shame or performance. Just sat on your couch and laid out a piece of himself like it wasn’t a risk. Like he trusted you to hold it gently. You’d heard stories like that before. The young love, the child, the marriage that didn’t work. But never like this. Never with that kind of calm. Jungkook didn’t carry bitterness in his voice. He didn’t turn it into a cautionary tale or a romantic tragedy. It was just his life. And he’d told it to you.
You stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what that stirred in you. You felt… something. Not fear, not exactly. Not resistance, either. It was more like awareness. Like you’d been walking through a tunnel, and suddenly, a light came on ahead.
You shifted gently, careful not to wake him, and studied his face in the dim light. His brow was relaxed. His jaw slack. He looked younger asleep. Still so handsome it was almost inconvenient. And peaceful, like a man who knew where he stood in his life. Who had made peace with his past and didn’t flinch at the idea of someone seeing it. You envied that sometimes. The room smelled like pine soap from his skin and your candle still burning in the kitchen. Your bare legs were tangled with his under the sheets, warm and anchored. It should’ve felt suffocating, having someone so close. But it didn’t. It felt like something you’d been putting off.
Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment.
You thought about Rosa. About being twelve and refusing to speak for an entire week when your parents left for some other city. About throwing books at the last nanny until the poor woman cried and left in the middle of the night. You thought about Bohyung, about Se-hoo. About how lucky you’d been to keep people close despite how good you’d gotten at pushing them away. And now here was Jungkook. Not barging in. Not pushing. Just standing there, holding the door open, again and again, until you decided to walk through it.
You opened your eyes and turned toward him.
You pressed your lips softly to his temple, then curled into him, fitting yourself into the shape of his chest like it was muscle memory. You weren’t ready to say it yet… that you’d never felt something this grounded before. That his steadiness made you feel less like you were always sprinting. That when he spoke about wanting something real, something true, you’d seen yourself in his words more than you’d wanted to admit.
You weren’t ready to say it. But you thought it. Over and over. Until sleep took you, and your body finally caught up with your heart.
———
The tattoo shop was closed. It smelled faintly of disinfectant and cheap cleaning supplies, the low hum of the machines filling the air in intervals as Jimin worked on cleaning his station. Jungkook sat across from him at the counter, hunched over his sketchbook, pencil moving in quick, precise strokes as he mapped out a design for a client’s next sleeve.
“You’ve been quieter today,” Jimin said after a beat, his voice casual, almost too casual. He tossed a roll of paper towels into the bin and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Which, for you, either means you’re sketching some insane piece… or you’re deeply in love. And judging by the stupid smile you keep making when you look at your phone, I’m guessing it’s the second.”
Jungkook didn’t look up, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re nosy as hell, you know that?”
Jungkook let his pencil pause for a second, staring at the nearly finished sketch before setting it down. He sat back in his chair, stretching his arms. “It’s… better than good. She’s something I’m working for. She’s funny, smart as hell, makes me feel like an idiot half the time when she starts talking about her work or politics or anything at all—”
“But?” Jimin tilted his head, smirking.
Jungkook shrugged, though there was no real conflict in his face. “But nothing. She’s… she feels like it. I wasn’t looking for this, you know that. But every time I see her, it’s like…”
“You’re whipped.”
Jungkook shot him a look, but Jimin just grinned wider.
“Shut up,” the younger muttered, though he didn’t deny it.
Jimin grabbed a rag and started wiping down the counter, his tone softening just slightly. “And Sunni? She likes her?”
Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “That’s… still a work in progress. Sunni’s stubborn. You know how she gets when she feels like someone’s intruding.”
The older chuckled. “So the kid’s giving her hell?”
Jungkook’s mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “Something like that. But Y/n doesn’t really mind that much. I like to believe she pretends to not care much about it. I can tell she wants to try. It’ll take time.”
Jimin hummed, considering him for a moment before his expression shifted, a little sharper now. “And Yunna? She’s cool with all this?”.
The younger went quiet for a beat, his jaw tightening slightly. “She hasn’t said anything bad. She’s… Yunna. Always polite. Supportive. But—”
“But she showed up at the shop last week, right?” His friend cut in.
Jungkook shot him a quick look. “You heard about that?”
Jimin snorted. “Dude, Mia was here, she talks. She said she was here for some minutes. And she never comes to the shop. What’d she want?”
Jungkook sighed, leaning back in his chair, his sketchbook forgotten. “Just to talk. She and her boyfriend broke up. She wanted to catch up since we hadn’t talk that much lately. She asked about Sunni, asked about me. Nothing more.”
Jimin raised a brow, unconvinced. “Talk about you?. Weird coming from your ex wife?”
“Don’t make her a villain.”
“I’m not!. It’s just… you guys had been friendly, always talking just about Sunni and your schedules and never talking about each other’s personal life for some years. Unless you were going to introduce them to Sunni… It’s a little weird that now she comes to the shop to ask about yours?” he shrugged.
Jungkook’s jaw worked as he thought about it, and then he exhaled slowly. “It felt… fine. Different. Yunna and I— you know were friends before we were anything else. We tried to make it work because of Sunni, but it never felt like this. With Y/n… I get this feeling I never deal with before. I don’t think Yunna’s trying to start anything, but…”
Jimin’s grin returned, sharp and teasing. “But she might still have feelings for you?.”
Jungkook shot him a flat look. “No, I think it’s just maybe a little uncomfortable for her. I never really introduce Sunni to anyone over this years.”
Are older raised a brow, unconvinced. “Well, you two were married, man. Don’t act like it’s nothing. I think she might want to relieve that.”
“Jimin…”
“What? I’m just saying,” he said, holding up his hands in mock defense. “You’re you. Women fall for you, deal with it. But Y/n… you telling her about Yunna?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Jungkook said firmly. “Y/n knows I was married. She knows everything about Sunni and Yunna. But she doesn’t need to worry about her, because there’s nothing there anymore. And I’m not going to let anything, past or present, mess this up.”
Jimin studied him for a moment, then nodded, his teasing softening into something sincere. “Good. Because from what I’ve seen? You’re different with her. Happier. It’s been so… I haven’t see you in love, Kook. If you screw this up, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Jungkook snorted, shaking his head, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “Noted.”
Jimin grabbed his rag again, muttering, “Just saying… big gestures, man. Y/n’s younger but she comes from a big background…”
“I know that.”
“She seems she has her life figure it out too.”
“What are you trying to say?.”
“That maybe she likes you because you have your life figure it out too. Maybe she’s done playing games too even if she doesn’t want to admit it.” Jimin looked at his friend. “And she knows this mature version of you that has money, takes her to expensive dates and it’s a gentleman so don’t screw it up going back to loosing all your money on stupid machines, wearing the same clothes for three days or eating twice every two days.”
“I don’t do that anymore…”
“Uhm, but when you get comfortable you do start acting like that again.”
“I’m not a child anymore”
“Just saying… big actions and big gestures, man. Women like her? They don’t do casual and fun forever. Don’t let her doubt for a second.”
Jungkook glanced back at his sketchbook, but his mind was already somewhere else. Your laugh, your smile, the way you rolled your eyes at him but always ended up smiling anyway. He wasn’t going to let you doubt. Not for a second… And Jimin was right. Big gestures matter for you. And he didn’t want you to see him as a kid or some stupid man. You had met him like this mature man, the one who had his life together and was always the mature one. He was going to make sure you always see him like that, for what he was now.
———
You hadn’t meant to see the album.
It was on the bottom shelf of Jungkook’s bookcase, wedged between a vintage tattoo reference book and a photography anthology on forgotten American diners. You’d been reaching for something else, coffee table book of pantries he told you he had in there, but your fingers brushed the leather-bound spine, and it tumbled into your hands with an obnoxiously loud thump. You froze for a moment, crouched, spine prickling like you’d just tripped a silent alarm.
Jungkook was still in the kitchen. You could hear him washing some plates in the sink, humming along under his breath to some half-forgotten 2000s song playing on his speaker. Sunni was at her mom’s that morning, so the house was quiet, grown-up, still.
You sat cross-legged on the floor and opened the album without really thinking. The first few pages were what you’d expect: grainy Polaroids, tattoo convention badges, a few too-many-beers candid photos with Jimin and other guys you vaguely recognized. And then, halfway through, the shift. Photos of a dorm hallway filled with balloons and red solo cups. A sign scrawled in black marker on a bedsheet:
“Yunna, will you go out with me?”
Corny. Frat-boy dramatic. Earnest in a way you never could be. In the next photo, she was saying yes. You could tell by the way her arms were flung around his neck, both of them laughing like idiots.
You stared at it a beat too long. You weren’t angry. Not even jealous. Just… displaced. Like you’d wandered into a room you didn’t belong in. One where all the furniture was arranged for someone else.
You snapped the album shut just as Jungkook walked back in, a mug of coffee in each hand. He took one look at your face and paused.
“You good?”
You thought about how your face could be that obvious. Or he knew you too well to know every little detail about you and your emotions.
“Yeah,” you said too quickly. “I was just looking for the pastries book. I found it.”
You nodded to the book, already opened beside you like it had always been the target. Jungkook walked over and crouched next to you, handing you the mug. He looked at you, and you didn’t say anything for some minutes. Just drinking the liquid from the mug and trying to pretend that you weren’t a little out of place there.
“You went quiet.”
“I’m always quiet.”
“No, you’re dramatic and loud and say shit like ‘why are you wearing those shoes with that face’ when you’re bored. This is different.”
You smirked, sipping the coffee to hide it. “Maybe I’m evolving.”
Jungkook sat beside you, stretching his legs out. “Or maybe you found something in that photo album.”
There it was. The low hum of it. You should’ve known he’d pick up on it, he always did. And it wasn’t that you wanted to lie. You just didn’t know how to say ‘hey, you once loved someone enough to write their name on a bedsheet and now you love me, and I’m trying to be fine with that even though I’m the kind of person who once ghosted a guy because he wore a shirt I didn’t like on him on a first date.’
So instead you shrugged, all offhand and breezy.
“I didn’t know you were a frat boy.”
“I wasn’t. Jimin dared me. I was trying to get laid.”
You snorted, not really amused. “You married her.”
“Eventually. After a lot of bad takeout and me messing things up twice.” You nodded like that answered something, even if it didn’t. Jungkook leaned back on his elbows, watching you carefully. “You know that was like… a whole lifetime ago, right?”
“Of course.”
“I mean, I barely remember who I was in those photos. I had bad hair and thought IPA was a personality.”
You huffed a laugh. “It was a tragic time for all of us.”
He nudged your knee with his. “You’re not worried about that, are you?”
You raised an eyebrow. “About your hair?”
“About the fact that I’ve done this before. That I had a wife.”
You hesitated. A wife.
A fucking damn wife.
And that was the thing. You didn’t want to care. You didn’t want to be the person who did mental math about who got there first or whether there was still space for you. But something about seeing it so documented, so clear, the way he had loved someone before, fully, completely, hit a place in you that you weren’t ready to admit.
“I’m not worried, I knew it before we started dating” you said after a beat. Knowing this one was on you. “I just— I didn’t know I wouldn’t know how to… exist in a life that already had a cast.”
Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then he turned toward you fully.
“There’s no cast,” he said. “There’s just Sunni. And me. And now you.”
It should have reassured you. And it did. Mostly.
But you still felt the weight of the album on the shelf behind you. And then your phone buzzed, an alarm going off. You glanced at the time on your phone and stood abruptly after turning it off.
“I should go. Meeting in forty minutes.”
He stood too, not pushing, not asking. “You need a ride?”
“No, I’ve got the car.”
You grabbed your things and were ready to go. But he stopped you. Jungkook grabbed your cheeks, his fingers tracing your jaw and he kissed you, slow and sweet and still too gentle for the mess of things in your head.
“Dinner tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” you said. “Text me.”
And just like that, you were gone. With lipstick on the mug and his past sitting quietly on the shelf.
The door shut behind you with the same kind of softness you used when leaving a hotel room early in the morning. No slam. No click. Just a whisper of departure. Jungkook stood there for a moment, still barefoot in his living room, holding the mug you didn’t finish. Lipstick. dark cherry red. Your brand of war paint before going to an important meeting. He didn’t know why that detail stuck out. Maybe because it was the only thing you left behind. Like you’d been careful to collect every part of yourself —your coat, your bag, your expression— before stepping out. Like you knew you were slipping.
He didn’t like that look you’d had when you closed the album. That too-blank kind of calm. The one that said don’t touch this without saying a word. Jungkook wasn’t a man who assumed. He’d lived enough life to know better than that. But he’d also raised a kid, built a business, and watched enough of the world come apart to recognize when something quiet was turning into something dangerous.
You’d seen something. Something that shifted you. Not dramatically, not with tears or accusations. You weren’t built like that. But you’d withdrawn. Not physically. Just… inward. Like someone sitting on a cliff edge with their heels just barely hanging off. He walked back over to the shelf, crouched down, and pulled the album. He hadn’t looked at it in years. Didn’t even know why it was still out. He flipped until he found the page. Red solo cups, bad handwriting, younger versions of himself and Yunna laughing like they didn’t know what life was going to hand them yet.
He stared at it for a while.
Then closed the book gently and slid it back into its place. It wasn’t about Yunna. Not anymore. That chapter had ended long ago, amicably, wrapped up in co-parenting schedules and shared photos of Sunni’s report cards. He cared about her. Of course he did. She was the mother of his daughter. But this, what he had now with you, wasn’t some consolation prize. It wasn’t a sequel. It was something completely different.
That’s what scared him. Even when he acted like it didn’t. Because you weren’t the type to fall easily. You walked with your guard up and your jokes sharper than most people’s arguments. And he knew, he knew, that the moment you started second-guessing, you’d start building your exits. He just didn’t know what exactly had triggered the doubt.
He texted you around noon. Something stupid. Something light.
Jungkook: Don’t forget to eat. And by eat, I mean something that isn’t made entirely of espresso and stress
No response. He wasn’t surprised.
He knew your rhythms by now. You’d need a minute. Maybe two. He didn’t believe in fixing everything with a hammer. Especially not you. So he left it there, didn’t follow up. Just sat back down at his desk, pencil in hand, sketchpad open, trying to distract himself with lines and angles and the faint scent of your shampoo still lingering on his hoodie.
But in the quiet, he kept thinking about that look. That careful, too-neutral look. He wasn’t angry. Just… trying to figure out how to say: “Hey. I see you. And it’s okay. I’ve lived things too. But you’re not walking into someone else’s life. You’re building something new with me. I want you to.”
He just didn’t know if you’d let yourself believe that yet.
———
You opened the door expecting silence.
It had been a long day. An exhausting string of meetings out of town that had left you drained, the kind of day where your heels felt like medieval torture and your shirt was sticking to your back. You were already mentally composing the dramatic text you planned to send Jungkook about how the patriarchy was embedded in the zipper system of your skirt.
But instead of silence, you were met with Jungkook.
“Wait— what the…?”
A warm golden glow spilled from the hallway into your apartment, flickering gently, impossibly soft. Candles. Everywhere. Not just on tables or counters, but on the floor, on windowsills, tucked between clusters of flowers. Roses, of course, but also gardenias and tiny white ranunculus that looked like something out of a painting. Petals laying down in a short way to your living room. And balloons.
Not the tacky, helium “I Love You!” ones. The delicate, matte-finish cream and gold ones, clustered subtly in corners like little orbs of celebration. It was whimsical. Over-the-top. Insane, in the most delightful way. Your eyes scanned the space. The open kitchen was lit like a movie, and on your dining table. And by dining table it meant the floor, because of course, there was a blanket, plates, candles, and a setup that looked straight out of La Dolce Vita.
And there he was.
Jeon Jungkook, standing in your kitchen in black pants and a pale blue button-down, slightly rolled at the sleeves, holding a wooden spoon like he’d been caught stealing from the sauce.
“Oh my God,” you whispered.
“Ciao, bella,” he said, with the world’s dumbest grin.
“Terrible accent for a simple word.” You blinked. “And what… what is this?
“I cooked,” he said. “Kind of. I begged your sous-chef at the restaurant to give me his gnocchi recipe. Then I realized I’m shit at gnocchi and made spaghetti instead.”
“You did all this while I was about to call you to complain about my day?” you asked, stepping into the room slowly like you might wake up if you moved too fast.
“I had to raise the stakes.” He held out a hand. “You can still complain all you want but first… Come on, let’s eat.”
You didn’t say anything. You just took off your heels and dropped your purse, letting him take your hand to guide the way to the food. He kissed your hand, a little cheekily, then pulled out a chair for you. Well, a pillow. Because floor dinner, obviously.
The food smelled like heaven. Slow-cooked tomato sauce, basil, garlic, a hint of lemon. A bottle of red wine already open, two glasses already waiting. Your favorite wine, the one you had run-off yesterday. Too expensive for his taste and his wallet. He had bought it anyway for you. For that night, for you to keep.
You took a bite and immediately sighed. “Jesus. You could’ve just asked me to marry you.”
Jungkook laughed, pouring you wine. “You don’t want to marry me… yet. You still haven’t seen how bad I am at laundry. You still have to be more deep in love with me to accept that.”
“Jungkook,” you said, looking around, then at him again. “Seriously. This is…” You paused, your throat catching. “This is a lot.”
“I know.”
“It’s… it’s beautiful.”
“I wanted it to be.”
You looked at him, eyes softening. “Why?”
Jungkook set down his glass and leaned back a little, watching you the way he always did, like you were something precious. Something rare. Something he had been lucky to find, lucky to keep.
“Because,” he said quietly, “even though last week was officially the dumbest, dorkiest, most chaotic way to ask you to be my girlfriend—”
“Agreed,” you said, sipping your wine.
“—you still said yes.”
“Under duress.”
“Still counts.” You laughed, shaking your head. “But I kept thinking about it,” he said, voice lower now, more serious. “And I realized… you deserve better than a crown from a drive-thru. Even if it was iconic.”
“It wasn’t,” you admitted.
He reached for your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.
“So I wanted to do it again. For real this time. Just us. No tiny instruments. No child-sized hats. Just… this.” The candles flickered between you two. “I saw the tension in your eyes yesterday when we talked about it. I get it. You saw those old pictures of me and Yunna, and maybe it made you question where you fit in my life.”
You looked away, a little uncomfortable. “It’s not just that. It’s weird barging into someone’s life when they had a wife, even if it didn’t work out. And I… I knew this before we got serious. It’s not your fault that I feel this way but… I don’t know.”
Jungkook reached out, brushing your hair back gently. “Hey. I get all of that. But I’m here. With you. And I want you to know, no matter what those old pictures say or what my past was, what matters is us now.”
You smiled softly, your heart loosening. “So, this is your way of saying you’re serious?”
“I was serious since the first day” He took your hand, holding it firmly but tenderly. “But yes. I want you to see it, feel it. I’m done with silly gestures or half-measures. I love you, Y/n. I want to be with you, officially. And I want you to be my girlfriend, not because of some prank or a joke, but because I’m all in. Because this is real, because this is not a dare or something that was planned without thinking. But because it was something I want, something I had planned for a long time.”
You smiled slightly. “Fine. Ask.”
He shook his head, amused by you. “I love you,” he said, simply. “I love you so much I want to be able to say you’re my girlfriend without you correcting me like a lawyer. So I’m asking, officially, on the record. Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?”
You looked at him.
This man. This man, who had walked into your life through sheer chaos and stayed through everything… your sharp tongue, your walls, your resistance. He saw you. Not the name, not the empire. You. And he’d filled your house with candles, with petals, with love. Not with expensive gifs— except maybe that wine that costed more than five thousand bucks—, not with jewelry or fake promises. But with love, with honesty.
You tilted your head. “Do I still get to keep the crown?”
“Only if you say yes.”
You grinned, set your wine down, and leaned across the pillows to kiss him slow, deep, and with the kind of certainty that didn’t need any words. Jungkook’s grin widened into a full smile, and he pulled you into another gentle kiss, sealing the promise you both already felt deep in your bones.
When you pulled back, you whispered, “Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “Girlfriend me up.”
Jungkook beamed. “I love you.”
“Yeah,” you said, smiling into his chest. “I love you too.”
You two finished dinner sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by candlelight and the smell of garlic and roses. And even though it was technically just spaghetti, it tasted like the beginning of something holy.
they’re officially official B word and G word >_<
hope you enjoyed this chapter, is one of my favs. i just loveee writing mature emotional and reassuring dilf jk;; love him so much. literally ideal man.
we’re going to see more about the ex wife (Yunna) in the next chaps, hope you’re prepared.
let me know what did you think about this chapter<33
🖤 # there’s a new face on campus, a new person to learn about from afar. you’re almost sick when he wants nothing more than to get to know you, because, you don’t want to get to know him.
[ pairing - rich!jungkook x photographer!reader ]
~ warnings/tags - reader is a bitch to jimin, aggresive moments (LOL idk how to word it), profanity, put your seatbelts on, jungkook scares the reader but at the same time she asserts her dominance, more to come in chapter 2}
w.c - 4.4k
s.masterlist
prologue
c.2
there’s a soft yellow hue shining over the puffy clouds just outside. you sigh tiredly as you eye the rain drops rolling down your dorm room window, schoolbag strapped to your back.
today was another day of exhaustion, you could feel it in your bones. something in you could practically sense the levels of stress that were to come with the fear you felt on the daily of running into jungkook.
you hadn’t seen him since that night.
not in classes, on campus, with other students. it was like he had completely vanished after that night. that’s what worried you.
it was like any day now he’d jump out of the shadows to scare you once again, speak in the condescending tone he carried like an accessory. practically threaten you with his eyes in order to get what he wants.
of course, if he ever came by to present his needs to you again, you’d accept. simply because of the benefits you’d receive. those benefits being he wouldn’t be hiding from you with the intent of reappearing and heightening your stress levels.
brushing off the thought of him, you make move to leave your dorm room. today was not only a day you anticipated to come with exhaustion, but a day you knew would come with your nagging english teacher who expected each student to speak like they lived in the shakespearean times.
unfortunately for you, you were one of many victims. sometimes, you thought maybe you received his nagging much more than others.
the constant holding you back after class to asses your work that didn’t need assessing, the unstoppable anger he’d spew your way about your homework which he was actively correcting when you’d pass on campus. it was tiring.
everything seemed to be tiring for you lately. it was like a never ending cycle of complaining, tiring out, sleeping your life away, actively passing away in classes that bored your brain to extents you didn’t seem possible. you hated life.
not in the sense that you wanted to leave it behind, you grew to dislike the concept of everyday being the same. every single one.
school, home, playing back moments deemed interesting in you head, spiralling, dinner, bed.
you felt like you lived life as a hamster running in a cage, a hamster who spent its day running in the small wheel provided by its owner. just spending your days running in unending loops that ran into connected lines. it didn’t matter what you did, you couldn’t escape it.
or so you thought.
arriving at the elevator, you’re internally surprised to spot a new face. a new student? or was he visiting? you wonder all the possibilities of the man before you, possibilities answered when he notices your undivided attention from just six feet away.
“i’m here studying dance.” he speaks up and you hum, glancing away from his as quick as you had noticed him. “i’m new.” he adds on and you clasp your hands together in awkwardness, nodding your head as you patiently wait for the elevator arrive.
“what about you?” he asks, stepping closer to you as the elevator arrives. there was something about the closeness of his body that send panic through you, something about someone other than your own mind speaking to you.
you worried if you continued speaking to this guy once the elevator ride was done you were doomed.
“something go to do with english.” you respond vaguely, rushing in through the opening elevator doors and into the empty grey box, pressing the button for the car park.
“oh, cool,” he murmurs, stepping to the side, eyes suddenly brightening upon the sigh of the car park button pressed. confusion doesn’t take long to leave you as he’s quick to point out the cause.
“i drive too.” he smiles brightly and you are in disbelief at the way he’s acting over something common. you can’t help the small smile that finds its way to your face.
“by the way,” he continues speaking and you feel like grabbing the headphones from your bag to place them over your ears. was he always like this? would he leave you alone once you’d both left the elevator?
“what’s your name?” you glance up to him, eyeing the patience in his face; while also momentarily blessing his poor parents who had to endure his copious questions when he was younger. or had he been quieter in his youth?
it’s only now that you give him your eyes that you being to properly look at him. you find it surprising to yourself that you hadn’t noticed the blonde hair he sports. you’re almost jealous from how perfect he seems to suit it.
with blonde hair comes his undeniably attractive features, high cheekbones, plump lips which have you wondering if he’s had them filled in or if they are truly natural. the soft pink colour of them remind you of candy floss.
the longer you look, the more you come to realise he truly born to dance. the way he stood, the build of his body, structure of his face. and his eyes, you couldn’t deny the alluring sight of his eyes. they were sharp and soft all at once, pulled you in and left you wondering just how they truly were.
it’s not until the ding of the elevator sounds that you realise you had been staring the entire time, his body stands rigged and his expression leaks awkwardness as you quickly shake your head and slip out past him to head to your car.
you’d hoped he’d walk away and deem you weird, but unfortunately for you, you’d been born with non existent luck. so, when he called out for you, you simply turned around and sought out his question.
“i never got your name.” he speaks, standing further away with his car keys in his hand, “who said i wanted to give it to you.” you answer calmly and he furrows his brows. he almost looked upset?
“i was just trying to get to know you.” he mumbles as he turns to walk away, “it’s y/n.” you sigh out and he spins around, small smile on his lips. “min y/n.”
the man before you seems pleased, bowing softly before talking once again. “nice to meet you, min y/n.” there’s a beat of silence between you both, your cheeks rush red and you nod, “park jimin.”
confusion is etched on your face and he blows out a breath with a small laugh, “my name, park jimin.” he corrects himself and you hum in acknowledgement, “nice to meet you, park jimin.”
as he opens his lips to speak, you turn away and head for your car. mentally stabbing out your heart in disappointment in yourself.
your momentary empathy had gotten the best of you, leading to an unneeded interaction with a new student. you could only worry about what came with such a slip up.
the first class of the day came like a slap to the face, poetry. mr. hwang was in one of his usual grouchy moods, except, this time it was worse.
you couldn’t count with the fingers on your hands how many students he’d sent out of his classroom for doing simple things like coughing. everyone was on thin ice.
so, when he’d turned to you in hopes to hear you say something intellectual, you’d spluttered and completely messed up; worsening his mood.
it wasn’t a surprise when he kicked you out for opening your water bottle too loudly. you left without a fight and a heavy sigh.
since then, you’d dodged all your classes for the day, much too bothered by his attitude to attend the rest. you had wanted to head for the library but the remembrance of jungkook left you shaken and heading for the campus canteen instead.
there you sat, an apple skinned and cut up, plated up as you held your head in your hands – notes from your creative writing class sprawled out in perfect order.
you’d wished it was the notes that had you feeling so nervous, the upcoming test. but, of course, it was jungkook.
i mean, you didn’t even know him like that? you hadn’t ever seen yourself interacting with such a man, you’d done everything to hide yourself in crowds of people at school, chose the seats furthest from everyone else in classes, hid in you car to eat lunch - yet, you still caught his attention.
“ugh!” you groan, slamming your palms down on the table, attracting the attention of a small group just by your right.
bowing your head apologetically, you turn from the small group and glance up due to the unknown presence that seems to newly linger in front of you.
park jimin.
“what the..” you trail off as you eye the awkward smile on his face, holding out a carton of chocolate milk, “hey.” he says nervously, placing down the chocolate milk, slowly sliding it your way.
“mind if i sit here?” he wonders, a hopeful look on your face that turns down the rejection held on your tongue, “sure, i don’t mind.”
a cheerful smile overtakes jimin’s lips as he quickly sets his bag dow on the floor and sits into the seat in front of you, “i brought this as a friendship gift, in a way? anyway, i saw you had chocolate milk already so i bought this in case you finished the one you already have” he chuckles softly to himself at the end of his ramble and you send a tight smile before thanking him and accepting the chocolate milk.
“so, why’d you avoid school today?” jimin pipes up through the silence created between you both. once he spots your raised brow he’s quick to splutter awkwardly, “i mean- not that i was stalking you or anything, seriously. i wasn’t. the teachers i have simple took the roll for today and i noted your name was on there but you weren’t present.” god, could this kid talk.
“i was feeling sick.” you lie, deciding to play off your absence smoothly rather than ramble on like the bud in front of you.
“hey, i never asked. what is your age?” he asks before laughing at himself in embarrassment, “im sorry, i meant, how old are you?” there was something oddly comforting with the awkwardness jimin seemed to ooze from each simple thing he spoke, although he did tend to annoy you at the same time.
“i’m 20.” you respond quietly, a response that has jimin’s brows shooting up at, “twenty? you’re like a whole child. here i was thinking my 24 was young, holy shitt. so you’re not young you’re just a baby.” he says, following his words along with a chesty laugh before slapping his hand on the table then quickly pulling his hand back, looking to it and wondering if the action he’d just done was even appropriate to do in public.
“you’re insufferable.” you’re honest when you speak and jimin looks to you with obvious offence taken, crossing his arms he purses his lips to keep from snapping back at you. you take joy in that.
whilst you internally argue with yourself, mentally ripping apart the sheets in front of you – jimin watches, patiently waiting for an appropriate time to start a conversation with you.
jimin had just moved into the city, thanks to the hefty sum of money his father received from a hit and run. he thought once you stood next to him by the elevator that he’d make a friend of you. and much to his unsuccessful tactics, you stayed distant around him even though he tried his best to speak with you.
he wondered if something had caused you to be like that. did someone do something to you? or, was something actively doing things to you that made you scared?
pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples, jimin sighs out heavily as he willed his brain to be quiet. the constant thinking he did on a daily basis did not fail to hurt his brain and drive him insane.
there were days that he felt insane with the things he thought, sometimes, he felt as though the words in his head were not his. that they were things someone else put in his head to see what he’d think of them.
he hated it.
“you good?” a feminine voice chirps up and he snaps his eyes up to see your attention is focused solely on him, “uh, yeah. i’m fine.” he sends you half a grin and you slowly nod before looking back down to your sheets, the stress inside your body doubling.
you almost felt sick just knowing everything in front of you had to be learned, whether you liked it or not.
unfortunately, you came from an orphan background. some days you wished you had the parents that passed tragically, because maybe then maybe you’d know they were actually good people and not addicts who fucked you up for life.
with your non existent parents and mental issues, you had no choice but to work hard, you hadn’t exactly paid your way to where you stand now. it was from hard work, and if you were going to work hard to get to a certain part in your life, you were going to work harder to stick at it.
“you’re really gripping those sheets hard.” jimin notices and you glare at him, softening your gaze quickly when you notice the way his eyes widen.
shifting uncomfortably, jimin tries his best to shut his mouth whilst you stare at him, he wants to ask what your problem is. but he can’t, he knows if he even so much as parts his lips, he’ll say something wrong and you’ll more than likely get mad.
he’s quick to regret thinking such, he doesn’t even know you a day and he’s already depicting how your reaction to his words will go. he felt mean. was he mean?
“i’m gonna go.” you blurt out, quickly standing and grabbing your scattered sheets into your folder while jimin watches with scrunched brows and a throat full of unsaid words.
he felt bad for you.
he wanted to be friends with you.
so, he spoke what he’d been wanting to ask you all day. “can i have your number?” fuck. jimin slaps his hand to his forehead and you step back, bag already slung over your shoulder, folder tucked under your other arm.
“sorry?” you question and he slowly stands as you cock a brow and wonder what his intentions are, “so we can be friends.” jimin sighs, “i don’t want your number to be weird, i just want to be friends.”
his confession hits you right in the heart, he wanted to be friends. are you fucking kidding me.
“sure.” the word is out before you even let yourself think, maybe now it was your turn to smack yourself, “it’s **********.”
jimin rushes to pull out his phone and type it in, handing it your way to double check the digits are correct, once done, you pull away from him and usher a quick goodbye.
“text you later!” he says cheerfully and you want nothing more than to sink into the cement floors and disappear. what the fuck were you thinking?
you head towards the canteen exit, head down and belongings held close as you escape int the cold air of the college campus.
it is still bright out considering it’s only just hit six o clock. even though the sun still shines you begin to wonder where all the time has gone.
“i need to get home.” you speak under your breath with frustration, heading for the car park. you wanted nothing more than to sink into the comfort of your bed and sleep today’s memories away.
“what the fuck?” you breathe out, folder resting on the roof of your car as you throw your bag to the ground, hands reaching for the zip to open your bag to start rummaging around for your car keys.
you come out unsuccessful, bag filled with nothing but your pencil case and books. “are you fucking kidding me.” you groan, heels of your palms digging into your eyes with frustration.
you’re in a squat by your car, head in your hands as frustrations overtakes you as a whole.
you didn’t want to search the entirety of the campus for your keys, it would take years. but, so would walking the whole way home.
in your head, you fight with yourself. something you come to realise you have been actively doing all day. it seems like the interaction with jungkook from last night has just put you to an edge that you don’t stand at and fear, but an edge that is slowly crumbling while you hang from it.
you now sit against your car, the entirety of your body working off weak energy. you hadn’t eaten yet today. you immediately regret it now that feel light headed and entirely too tired.
maybe stressing on an empty stomach had been the cause of your unneeded self hatred entering your head left and right.
you grab at your bag once again, checking for any fruit or food that you might have packed. once again, you come back unlucky.
dropping your head back against your car, you let out a groan of annoyance. it seems to you that the second jimin stumbled into your life with his clumsy personality, everything has been going so much worse.
but, you couldn't blame jimin for jungkook who had you on edge. at the end of the day, it was your fault for slipping up and not being secretive about your life enough.
a silence etches over you as you sit next to your car, debating whether you should get up and walk home or sleep by your car for the night.
you're all for the debate settling within your head until a monotonous voice speaks up, a voice you'd dreaded hearing all day. possibly even all your life.
"this is sad." he speaks, causing you to glance up with a frown and notice his all too cocky smirk that he seems to sport way too much around you.
he's leaned back against the car parked next to yours, a singular hand slipped into the pocket of his slacks whilst the other places a cigarette to his lips which he inhales from.
you're in a sour mood just seeing him.
"i haven't made up my mind, jungkook." you seethe, standing up quickly, grabbing your bag with you. "don't worry, baby. that's not what i'm here for." he reassures and you can't help the way your stomach twists with delight hearing that pet name.
except, you're quick to scowl in disappointment when you realise exactly who is giving you these butterflies.
"then what? i have to get home, make it quick." you shoulder on your bag as you patiently wait for him to speak, crossing your arms in the process.
"let me drive you home." he offers, straightening up from the car, tossing the cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. "not a chance." you breathe out a dry laugh. now it's jungkook's turn to scowl.
"don't fight me on this, y/n." he sighs, unimpressed as he stretches out a hand to grab onto the strap of your schoolbag - an action you can only watch with bug eyes as he pulls it entirely off your back and holds it in his hand. "my car is this way." he begins to step away, only to stop completely when he notices from his peripheral that you're not moving.
with your arms crossed, you send jungkook a glare as he slowly turns to face you. still, unimpressed.
"if that's how you're gonna be, then be it." he shrugs with a sigh, heading towards a blacked out sports car humming quietly in the parking lot. you face away from jungkook, peering into the windows of your car, hoping you'll spot your keys.
minutes pass as you search, only, when you continue your search, you feel a strong pair of hands grab onto you from behind. you open your mouth to yell out for help, only your silenced by a hand that clasps around your mouth.
jungkook chuckles lowly as he throws you over his shoulder, making way for his car and removing his hand from your mouth as you hang from his shoulder defeated.
you don't have the energy to feel scared for the moment playing out, hell, you don't even have the energy to prevent yourself from being kidnapped.
jungkook steps around the open passenger side door, he gently places you into the chair before locking the door and rounding the hood to the driver's side of the car.
you almost thank him for his gentleness once he settles into the driver's side, but you're quick to remember the hostility he's presented your way over a simple thing as requesting you as his photographer.
i mean, he had you locked into the school library for gods sake. you were only lucky to find an open window to get out.
with the energy you don't have to battle him, you sink back into the leather of his car seats and inhale the manly scent of what you take to be his cologne.
"where do you live?" jungkook wonders, stretched over to tap away on some high tech screen in his car. his single question riles you up and you sit up straight to give him a piece of your mind.
"how else am i supposed to drop you home, y/n." jungkook deadpans and you quickly shut your mouth before getting the chance to speak. "right." you're quick to send him an embarrassed smile before telling him the address swiftly, moving to glance out the window once he types it in and begins to drive.
"i want to talk to you." jungkook speaks up through the silence between you both, one hand which had been on the wheel finds its way to your thigh and you snap your head towards him, catching sight of his side profile as he focuses on the road.
"about what?" you echo a question back, hand trailing down to his own to move it away, only you pause - your hand placed over his - at the sound of his question.
"what got you into photography?"
you'd never really been asked that by anyone before, you begin to think as you narrow your eyes at him with suspicion. "confidential." you mutter, swiping his hand away from your thigh. "i'm sure it is." he rolls his eyes playfully, looking to you with a smile...? or was it another smirk?
truthfully, you'd gotten into photography after you'd seen a man in the park taking photos of the ducks. there wasn't really a deep background to it all. and based on the way jungkook had looked at you when he had asked, you knew he assumed some deep shit happened that made you who you are today. maybe there was, it's not like you remembered anyway.
you don't have anymore time to think because he cuts a corner swiftly, causing you to fly over the center console, head landing into his lap. "i've never had a girl offer to give me head while i'm driving before" jungkook mumbles and you shriek in outrage as you pull away from him fast.
"what the fuck!" you yell out and jungkook simply laughs away to himself before calming down, suggesting you do the same as he pulls up the familiar street to your apartment complex.
"you're disgusting." you snap, reaching around the grab hold of your schoolbag, jungkook's hand flying to the front of your top and staying there while you do so.
you're quick to fling your bag from the bag seats, hitting his head in the process. "don't fucking touch me." you warn and he glares at you, smoothing back the gelled hair which had been pulled out of it's posh slick back due to the force of the schoolbag.
"it was riding up." he states and you let a small 'oh', twisting right back into your seat right as he pulls up out front of the reception area. "you know, i wish you lived further away so i could have talked to you more." jungkook says more to himself than you.
he unbuckles his seat belt, climbing out his side and travelling to yours, oepning the door to let you out. "next time, put on your seat belt." jungkook says lowly as he spots the small graze on the side of your hand from the aggressive swing around the corner he had pulled.
"there won't be a next time." you inform him as you slap away his hand and get out of his car yourself, "consider this our last interaction. i won't be taking photos for you." you finish and his jaw tightens, a hard look on his face.
giving him your back, you walk away, only yo be pulled back and shoved against his car. not hard enough to hurt, hard enough to jostle you.
"what do you want now." you whine, jungkook steps in front of you, face much too close to your own. "this isn't the last time." he speaks harshly, quietly. "you don't get to decide when i stop seeing you, i get to decide when this ends." he delivers it straight to your heart, shocking fear through your veins.
"i'll see you first thing tomorrow." jungkook let's you go upon seeing someone behind you both, not wanting to finish the conversation. you look behind, spotting jimin?
you step out of jungkook's hold, watching as he closes the passenger door, heading to the driver's side where jimin simply nods at him. a nod he ignores. prick.
before heading into his car, jungkook looks to you. "i'll see you tomorrow, baby." with that, he climbs into his seat, starting the car and heading off with a roaring engine. leaving you to look at jimin who sends you a confused look.
you don't wait around to hear what jimin has to say, you turn on your heels and boot it towards the reception to get to the elevator as quick as you can.
you can't help but think of jungkook's words as you approach the elevator. "you don't get to decide when i stop seeing you, i get to decide when this ends." is this where you realise you're eternally doomed?
hope you enjoyed this :) comment to be agged to the taglist!
Genre: Smut, Masturbation (m), Video Fantasy, Long-Distance, Dirty Talk
Word count: ~2k
Warnings: Heavy NSFW content, masturbation (male), dirty talk, praise kink, finger sucking, cum play, pet names, Hoseok missing reader intensely, emotional + physical desperation, soft dom vibes, lots of moaning, edging, mention of past sex.
my main list
Masterlist bts
It started with a missed call.
Then two.
Then a third, followed by a text:
"Baby, I miss you so fucking bad. Call me when you can, please."
You smiled at your screen, heart melting and thighs unconsciously pressing together. Hoseok had only been gone for five days. Five days into a month-long leg of the tour.
You were used to the distance. Sort of.
But he wasn't. Not when it came to you.
You texted him a quick, flirty reply—something like "you miss my kisses or my pussy more?"—and tossed your phone aside, heading to the shower.
You didn’t expect what came next.
Twenty minutes later, your phone buzzed.
1 New Video from Hobi 💛
You opened it casually.
And then nearly dropped your phone.
The screen lit up with Hoseok’s flushed face, lips parted, hair messy and falling into his eyes. He was lying back on crisp hotel sheets, shirtless, his skin glowing with sweat.
"Hey baby," he murmured, breathless already. "This is for you. Only you."
The camera dipped lower. His hand wrapped tightly around his thick, leaking cock, stroking himself with slow, deliberate twists of his wrist. He moaned—a sound so raw and desperate it made your legs clench.
"I couldn’t stop thinking about you," he groaned. "I've been hard all day, fuck. You know what that dance does to me? You in my head, baby, your mouth, your hands... I need you so bad."
He sucked two fingers into his mouth with a wet, filthy pop, coating them in spit before dragging them down to his cock. The sound of his hand working himself filled the quiet room.
"Remember what you did last time? On the couch? When you rode me slow and kept kissing my nose like a tease? Fuck, that was the best shit of my life. I keep playing it in my head."
The camera shook slightly as his hips bucked up. His thighs tensed, muscles flexing, abs contracting.
He whimpered your name, eyes fluttering shut. "God, I miss your voice... your tongue... your pussy."
His hand sped up.
"You wanna hear me beg? Huh? You like that, don’t you? My needy girl. I’d do anything just to taste you right now. I'd drop to my knees and eat you like a starved man."
His voice cracked. "Look at what you do to me. Look how desperate I am."
He slowed down suddenly, panting hard, biting his lip.
"I don’t wanna cum yet... not yet... not until I imagine your voice in my ear telling me to."
He whined, body trembling, leaking all over his fingers.
"Tell me I can cum, baby. Tell me you want it. Please. Please. I’m so close."
He let out a shaky breath. Then moaned—low, deep, broken—as he tipped over the edge, cum spilling across his stomach in thick, pulsing streams.
He was shaking. Moaning your name like it was the only thing grounding him.
The camera stayed on for a while.
You could see his chest rising and falling. His hand lazily rubbing the cum into his skin. His voice soft, dreamy:
"I hope you came too. If not... watch this again. Touch yourself and think of me."
He grinned tiredly, that post-orgasm glow in full effect.
"I love you. So much it fucking hurts."
An hour later, you were still lying in bed, phone pressed to your chest, heart racing. You hadn’t replied yet—how could you? Nothing you could type would match what he sent.
Then, another message arrived.
Hobi 💛: "Couldn't sleep. Got hard again. Gonna film more. You okay with that?"
You barely finished typing "yes. please." before the next video came in.
He was already naked this time.
The camera propped somewhere steady, giving you a perfect full view of his long body stretched on the bed. His cock was red and hard again, resting against his stomach. A trail of his previous orgasm still shimmered faintly on his skin.
"Couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth," he whispered. "I know what you look like when you suck me. I know what those eyes do to me."
His hand slid along his chest slowly, teasing his nipples, then down to grip his cock again. He was slower this time. Torturously slow.
"Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend you're here. Kneeling. Stroking me. Licking the tip like you always do, that little swirl with your tongue—fuck."
He moaned, hips twitching.
"I bet you're watching this with your legs open. I bet you're wet. Are you touching yourself, baby? I hope so. I want you to. I want us to cum together."
He propped the camera higher, angling it for a perfect view of his strokes. Every little detail. His leaking slit, the veins on his shaft, the squeeze of his fingers.
"You're the only one who gets to see me like this," he whispered. "All of this is for you. You own me. My cock, my moans, all of it."
He spit into his palm, loud and wet, and spread it over himself with a filthy sound.
"I want you to ride me slow. I want you to hold my hands while you bounce on me. I wanna hear your little gasps every time you sink down. God, I can feel it."
He whined, speeding up.
"My pretty girl. My perfect, messy baby. You're mine. You hear me? Fucking mine."
His voice got louder, his body tensed.
"I'm gonna cum again. I'm gonna make a mess thinking about you. Your pussy. Your voice. Your scent. Fuck, fuck, fuck—"
With a broken cry, he came again.
His second orgasm was somehow even more desperate. His back arched, thighs trembling, cum splashing across his chest and hand.
He didn’t stop the camera. Didn’t even breathe right for a few seconds.
Finally, he looked into the lens again, hair damp with sweat, lips kiss-bitten and parted.
"Send me a voice message. Tell me what you did while watching this. Please. I wanna hear your voice. I miss it so much."
He kissed the screen.
"I’m gonna fall asleep now. Covered in you. Goodnight, baby."
in which you learn why the staff has been avoiding you like death
word count: 3527
warnings: if you don't clutch your pearls i am retiring
"i advise you to lock her up for the duration of the games".
"i am literally here", your hands fall down. you've been adjusting the azalea petals, but Hoseok just has a way to destroy any concentration you have for a task. Yoongi raises his hand to shush you.
"the yangban are coming, and she will embarrass you in front of them".
Jimin is having a field day. his arms on his chest, he's not wearing the mask because the only people in the throne room - are you, king, Hoseok and Jungkook.
"no, i promise", you start, and Jimin bites his lip and chokes his laughter. the boy is glowing when there's some shit going down, he is in love with nonsense.
"i won't do anything embarrassing", for once, you are ready to plead sincerely. you really want to see the games. you have not sweated and suffered for three days on a tall, old ladder, wobbling, swaying, perched on the fucking roof, under the blazing sun, with Jungkook "backing you up" most of the day, with his annoying comments; not to attend the games. you have decorated two levels of the roof, cut all your fingers with the needles, you now have dreams about the ladder and the morning glory. and this piece of ass wants to lock you up and ban from the action.
"i will be quiet", you promise, looking at him and Yoongi. Jungkook's eyebrows are raised. Yoongi is not convinced yet.
"i really wanna see this. i will only cheer, yeah? i can cheer, right? for Jungkooki- for Jungkook. but i promise, i will behave this time. hey, i was the one who decorated the whole pavilion".
Jimin sniffs shortly with a smile.
"avoid the risk", Hoseok suggests. "even now as she begs, her arms are bare".
you look at your arms. yeah, rolled up the sleeves so that they don't get in the way. you stare at the General in disbelief.
"hey, saboteur", you step to Hoseok, rolling your sleeves down slowly. he strands you at his side, his gaze returning to his beloved wang.
Yoongi is sitting on the first step of his platform, just like you did some time ago. you keep the flogging jokes away, tuck them deep and shut them out. his horsetail is over his shoulder, and he looks relaxed. he tilts head to the left, then to the right. you are quite used to his eyes roaming about you. it's non-suggestive in nature but obviously you take it personally. he is so good-looking your teeth hurt.
"Yoongi, look at me".
"i am".
"i won't embarrass you in front of your friends".
Hoseok sighs.
"i will just watch the games from the crowd, i won't even be in the vicinity".
"you will stand out anyway", Jungkook snorts. "i mean it in a good way".
maybe Yoongi is simply in a good mood.
"let her", Jimin chimes in. he doesn't really care about the reputation, he simply likes to stir shit.
"i will be by Seokjin's side..."
"no, you will be with your garden crew, as it is orderly", Yoongi says.
"fine. i'll be with the girls".
you know you will find Jin regardless. he will repeat anything you tell him. he will cheer for the golden maknae with you. knowing that Jungkook actually will participate, that he actually made his way across the country and visited, and has been training in order to participate, makes it absolutely out of question whether you will see it. it's not run bts; it's idols olypmics.
Yoongi shifts his misty, opaque cat eyes to Jimin who is snickering by the window. by the way. yes. the king looks orgasmic in between magnolias.
"maybe she should participate", he muses lazily, "in the poetry competition".
Jungkook gasps like a child, his hand on his mouth. Jimin loses it completely, dropping his head on his chest. Hoseok simply loses braincells. you are confused.
"what is that? i am not too good at poetry".
Yoongi shrugs at his childhood friend.
"finally something we know that you do not", Jungkook calls from behind, "feels good".
Jimin's fingers claw at his face. you feel like the butt of the joke but it's mellow. Hoseok isn't having it either. he looks down, stylishly defeated.
on the day of the games almost nobody works. the palace is buzzing. staff keeps sweeping already clean roads in between pavilions, scrubbing the floors of the corridors that already gleam with the morning sun. it smells like incense everywhere, inside and outside. the huge round bonfires on both sides of the main gate are lit, and it gets so hot in that spot, that people run through quickly. as they enter the palace, they see the decorated main yard and pass by the long side paths to the west of grounds, where the purple-green pavilion glistens in the sun, and it makes you proud of your work. after all the suffering you've gone through in the last three days, you think it was worth it. people look with their mouths open and shuffle noisily, taking their places in front of the building. there's talk, and colour; everybody is wearing their prettiest dresses, hair slicked back shines in the sun; there are powdered, blushing faces everywhere. the garden crew is keeping you in the middle of a tight circle and you all move like a bunch of organized turtles, like someone had warned them to keep you in check. Jiyoung is at your side: she smells like flowers and breathes deeply. she mutters into your ear sometimes; don't look up too eagerly; this is yangban Han. he will ascend to the balcony and will watch together with king. he has four wives. she nods in small motions to move your attention, trying to distract you, to keep you silent: see orange robes? they have arrived all the way from Jeonju. they are our king's distant relatives. orange means faded gold. you think there's not enough space on the balcony for everybody to watch the games with the king: you decorated it the last thing the day before yesterday. in a fit of hatred, you also put one dark anemone you found on the side of the road outside the market, to the inner side of the banister to let him know one day you will beat him up. anemones are... sincerely open and so round, simple, they strangely remind you of yourself. this is one is also purple, of course.
today the mood is much better. square is buzzing. the sun comes in and out, warms the place up, people keep moving, divided into fractions by colour and belonging. young people from the whole country gather to demonstrate their strength, and you assess them; it's mostly the elite, rich kids, princes and yangbans, and Jungkook is among them. the Hanseong contestants all wear purple (you are reminded like once a week that Seoul has a different official name for now, by the annoyed garden maids). they make up the most of the players, sometimes even competing between each other.
"is this a way to replenish the palace warrior stock?" you wonder.
"no. it's just games to celebrate the harvest. of course, some take it very seriously..." Jiyoung's eyes rest on Jungkook's back for a second as she chuckles. the Monkey Prince is in the middle of the square, surrounded by peers and competition, stretching. aside from preparing the muscles, it's also supposed to intimidate the others when he does a flip from the standing spot for no reason at all.
"protecting the wang image".
"you're right", she nods.
a little commotion, and the place gets into relative order. Jiyoung says hi and you turn to see Seokjin with his hair in the knot on the back of his head, shining brighter than everybody here. he gives you a lazy, graceful smile.
"is Taehyung competing?" you ask.
"yes. sword. the Prince will do running, sparring and battle".
"and General?"
"General doesn't compete", Jin reposnds, "but i will kill everybody at Gonggi".
"like you did last year?" his sister laughs.
"forget about it. past is past", Jin dismisses confidently, "Seokjin for the win".
"team Kim Seokjin never loses", you chime in, your eyes on the square, observing the young people preparing to tear each other apart. you spot Taehyung in his purple kimono-like robe, looking very focused, like he doesn't hear anything around himself.
"even if it consists of just one person", Jin agrees.
the first game is sword competition. it resembles a dance more. you make sure several times that you are not allowed to cheer loudly, a balcony full of incredibly important people above you. king is in a dark-red robe with bright golden stamp of a serpent. there are several people at his side, some of them grab the banisters as they watch, and break the vines you had placed there.
Taehyung moves like the air itself supports him, and he doesn't need to land. like gravity is some hoe he is too good for. just like Prince and the king, he uses his hair to enhance his movements, to make him look like a bird. the competitors do not touch each other; it's not a fight but a demonstration of skill. and there's no point comparing; there was a reason Taehyung was chosen to present the king's warriors. he is like a ghost. you are not surprised. others? yes. people ouch, ohh and gasp, but you know the boy and the way his body moves.
that came out worse that it was supposed to.
Taehyung wins, beautiful, bashful, the fastest and the most flexible. the judges in different-coloured robes choose him over everybody else, and the palace crowd erupts in cheer that you happily pick up. you are really trying to keep your word and not stand out, so you use this moment to let out your support for him, screaming his name.
next, the whole crowd shifts and leaves the pavilion to enter the large sand field behind the palace. you realize it's a kind of a running track when several boys, Jungkook among them, step to the sand. spectators hum with anticipation, heads turning, as they look at the boys. all tall, slender, lean; could do a calendar. in the growing worry of the crowd, you cup your hands to your mouth and yell once, sharply,
"bangtan!"
Jungkook's head snaps to the viewers and he lowers it immediately.
should it be mentioned that he wins. Jungkook keeps winning the whole day, in all three competitions that he participates in, because he has a pride to protect, because he has been trained by Yoongi and Hoseok. because he is golden. you look up to the balcony on the other side of the pavilion and see his hyungs standing shoulder by shoulder, their faces smirking in the most shit-eating way.
young men compete in speed, might and wit, climbing uprooted trunks, jumping, sparring with no tops on (kind of extra), doing something that looks like wrestling. you notice that the purple warriors are all taller, buffer, more capable. it would make sense that the king's crew consists of the best fighters from the whole country, especially with a reaper like Hoseok to train them. they win the majority of the games and you can see the yangban guests being pissed, disappointed, shaking their heads. it brings you a special kind of cognitive satisfaction to see people from other cities. how they walk, how they avoid looking at the king directly, what they say. Jungkook finishes the game of battle, a repetition of the exercise you've seen him do long time ago, by absolutely destroying twelve people, and bows to his uncle, panting, furious, with the healthy blush on his face that would earn him the world. you hear the voice coming from the balcony.
"for the next year i need to spike my boys with the sapaieo salmusa venom. Monkey seems to be unbeatable".
"sapphire viper?" you ask Jiyoung, "is that a thing?"
you disperse agitated, still a whole big body of the audience, to return to the inner yard to watch the rest of the games.
"no, it's a saying", she chuckles, "sapphire vipers do not exist".
Taehyung joins your company out of nowhere; in the mass of people he is almost unnoticeable, now that he has changed into an unassuming grey robe. he wants to be closer to Jiyoung and walks with you, chatting. the majority of the games is over, and purple people scatter into the palace, tired, sweaty, victorious. you throw the last look into the square.
"i promised not to embarrass anyone", you sigh. Seokjin is already deep in his thoughts, planning his Gonggi win, his hand working by itself. he walks with you, leading you all to the commoners' games space.
"okay, but do not laugh at me if i lose", he braces himself before entering.
"you won't. you're bangtan, Jin", you squeeze his shoulder, laughing.
"what's that mean?"
"means you cannot be defeated".
"i am bangtan then", Taehyung grins wide. you look at him with a smile.
"yes, you are. you are my bangtan boys".
everybody finds this a little uncomfortable, a tiny bit. Taehyung's grin turns awkward for a second; Seokjin is more straightforward.
"let's not get carried away here".
and steps into the small, round arena among the Gonggi players. it was nice of Yoongi to allow a portion of the square in front of the small pavilion to be turned into a market-like station for the commoners' games. they aren't as garceful as the elites games, and consist mostly of the traditionals. on the plus side, you can cheer through them, supporting your friend or relative. and cheer, you do, for Jin. upon winning Gonggi, he decides to try himself in archery and loses by a small margine, because at the last moment, he gets distracted by the smell of food. the boys may not be ready to be called yours, but all demonstrate excellent talents, seemingly even better than in the future. someone else erupts in screaming at the far side of the square and you turn to see Jungkook, walking around with his arms outstretched, maids and servants swarming him, shrieking. you chuckle with your whole throat. he deserves this.
"go on", Jiyoung allows, "tell him you are proud of him".
you shake your head,
"no, i am lower than grass today".
Jiyoung uses this moment to slip away and congratulate the Monkey Prince, and as she makes her way through the crowd, Taehyung steps closer to you.
"you did a great job with the roof".
you thank him with a feeling. every little acknowledgement means a lot to you. your index fingers on both hands are covered in constellations of small cuts from the needles, and feel absolutely numb.
"i was meaning to help but..."
"i know, i am punished for being insolent and a pain in the ass. he won't break me like that. i am only going to get worse".
Taehyung's glance on you slides off quickly and he opens his mouth.
but doesn't say anything. you catch his eye with suspicion.
"what?"
he shakes his head. you push him in the forearm. Seokjin produces a cry from the nearest stall and you see him slapping a guy on the head.
"that's three? this costs one and a half at best".
"he is such a diva", you murmur, looking at him in admiration. Taehyung thinks Jin has distracted you well, but you return to him immediately.
"what is it? i can see you're not telling me something. is Jiyoung very jealous?" you guess, "i have barely seen you in the last weeks".
he shakes his hands in the air quickly, poor boy.
"no- no, no, no, it's not Jiyoung. it's..." his dark, neatly set eyes stare at you for a moment.
"you're not punished. the male staff are forbidden to so much as look at you".
at first, your head tips to the side with indignation. what is his problem? he thinks you won't be capable of doing things yours-
Taehyung's eyes brush over your face with an unspoken apology.
"oh. oh".
you cross your arms on your chest. a slow smile tears through the pout and it takes all the muscles of your face to fight it off. Taehyung's newly acquired habit of scanning space around when you're near him makes more sense.
"Taehyung".
"uh?" he isn't sure how to react.
"what's a poetry competition?"
his ears go a little red, and he chuckles, with surprise.
"it's a..." he adjusts his headband although there's no need for it, then it comes: a boyish grin. "concubine competition. the only game where those who win, they, you know. get into the", he stabs behind with his thumb.
"what's the game?" you wonder, "whoever writes the best poem about his beautiful eyes?"
"no", he laughs out, "it's just a euphemistic name. they need to use their tongues. there's this little box", he gestures in the air, trying to get you the full picture, while your face grows longer and longer, "with this intricate opening on top, more like a slit, and there's a pea inside that they need to get out to the exit of the box".
you move your jaw sideways.
"it's not for the main crowd. held inside the palace".
"i figure", you grunt. he nods, mildly amused.
"where did you hear about it?"
Seokjin returns and hands Taehyung a rough cup with soju.
"what about me?" you inquire. suddenly you're not in the mood to take any shit.
"eh, little sister. no soju for girls".
"what's that mean, you lizard?"
"why am i a lizard?" Jin erupts.
"girls shouldn't drink", Taehyung smiles kindly. you stand between them and fight off an impulse to punch the cup out of his hand.
"girls", you narrow your eyes, and they both get just a tiny bit intimidated, "shouldn't faint while decorating the whole fucking two storey roof all alone just because somebody's feeling booktok".
Seokjin takes it very seriously for some reason, although he most definitely doesn't get it.
"fair enough. i'll bring you one".
he downs his cup and, by the time Jiyoung is back, you have made a tiny advancement for the gender equality fight in Joseon. when Jin gets relatively drunk, he starts howling songs in that retro voice of his, and you tell him you think he should try music.
the games take the best part of the evening, too. Yoongi is tired, he winces when Seonghyung brushes against his shoulder again, breathing into his cheek, hinting a drinking sparring. his eyes move to Hoseok, and Hoseok reacts immediately.
"get him to his chambers, please, or i'll slice his jugular", he murmurs.
General smirks, and Seonghyung vanishes like a ghost. he tilts his neck, rubs his shoulder. too many smells from too many different people from today, he crunches his nose in satisfaction when he sees his eunich hurrying towards him. the boy falls on the floor in a bow, then picks himself up quickly.
"games are over, my king. shall i bring the women?"
Yoongi nods.
"that's actually, finally, a good idea".
he catches a glimpse of the round moon and a trail of plum blossom scent on the turn of the corridor. the central quarters are quieter, and the noise of the evening preparations doesn't get here. the only steps are his.
Yoongi enters his bedroom where a servant with the ears more sensitive than even Jimin's instantly starts undressing him. her slender quick hands make it seem like the robe falls off of him by itself, while, turning, he doesn't even catch a sight of her. relieved from the heavy attire, he releases his hair as well and shakes his head.
"bath?" she asks. after years of training she has finally learnt to speak shortly and to the point, without long pleasantries.
"later. stay behind the door, you'll lead the girls away, i will only need one tonight".
she nods, the top of her head barely reaching his collarbone.
Yoongi examines all of them with intense scrutiny. the hair, the shape of the heads, the faces, the moles painted on skin under the eyes with a thin brush. the dresses revealing their shoulders and the lines of their stomachs. the eyes. he is looking for a certain stare, for a certain hair colour. for the rolled up sleeves, a bite in between the teeth. no, scratch the last one. tonight, biting is a no. he gets up, sliding a lilac ribbon in between his fingers, that slips easily, calming his mind.
"you", he takes one by the arm. "turn around".
the girl lowers her eyes, her face doesn't change from the unreadable submissive expression. she does as she's told.
"the rest of you can go".
four others leave the room silently, the door slides open and close, and there's misty silence, broken only by the peacocks yapping something from a garden away. what Yoongi hadn't anticipated from them, would be how late those damn birds go to sleep. he releases the hair of the girl from the pin, letting it fall over his hand, and taps the pin on her shoulder. doesn't like when things are in disorder, just lying around. she takes it quietly and tucks into her dress. Yoongi takes the ribbon and braids her hair, weaving it in between the locks. the colour is close enough, everything else is a miss.
he drops one last look at the top of her head and guides it down, then closes his eyes.
Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.
Last
Taehyung's family are quick to organize an engagement party the following Friday.
You find yourself once again in Taehyung's childhood bedroom, this time with he full knowledge of his family. You have been gifted a beautiful white silk gown by Taehyung's mother. You gaze at your reflection in the mirror, seeing less of yourself and more of who your husband had painted you to be. your make up had been done by an artist hired by the family, and your hair had been work on for hours until it was perfectly tamed into an elegant up do, the only imperfections visible were the worry in your eyes and open zip at the back of the dress.
Attendants have offered to help you into the garment, but you refused, desperate for a little independence after a day where your control had once about been stripped away from you. You hadn't really thought about the dexterity it would take to fasten the dress at the time, just focused on keep your breaths even. Fortunately, if anyone had noticed your fidgety demeanour throughout the day, they had thought of it as wedding nerves and not the panic attack it was. You patted your hair and reminded yourself to breathe, practising your smile. You had convinced yourself everything would be fine after the wedding, Taehyung's family would have less control, and he would never cage you the way your ex had... but rational thoughts so rarely penetrate the heart.
Still you forged on wards with the plan, taking solace in the other members when time allowed you to forget the heavy weight wrapped around your ring finger and your heart.
So wrapped up in your inner monologue you don't notice the groom-to-be enter until nimble fingers slide up the exposed skin at the back of the dress.
"Need some help?" he whispers in your ear, playing with the buttons.
"Yes please,"
You stand straight so he can see the fastenings properly. He makes quick work of them, practised hands gliding across each one.
"If I didn't know any better, I would say you had practice at that," You joke weakly.
"More than my fair share," He winks at your reflection, "And by that I mean I used to have to help my sister with her buttons at a variety of events... not the thing you're thinking,"
"I wasn't thinking anything," you lie.
His arms encircle your waist and you take comfort in his embrace. The two of you already look like a bride and groom, but supposedly that is the point. He looks handsome in his tuxedo, his tie reflecting the colour of your eyes, his cuff-links polished to perfection, and his hair is tousled in just away that it looks incredible but unintentional. He was born for this world.
"My beautiful bride," He smiles at the mirror.
He presses a quick kiss to your bare shoulder, and then his embrace is gone.
"Guests are arriving Y/N, are you ready to greet them?" He asks
"As ready as I am ever going to be," You steal yourself for the longest night of your life and take the arm he offers you.
It takes all of your strength to not cling to him the way Jungkook clung to Namjoon the day you you first met. You descend the grand staircase into the large reception foyer, thankfully finding four familiar faces among the small crowd that had already arrived. Namjoon, Jin, Jimin, and Yoongi each raise a champagne flute to you as you catch their eyes and you nod in return.
Jungkook and Hobi had decided against joining you. Taehyung's family were known to look down upon humans, so Hoseok didn't want to ruffle any feathers by turning up now. And Jungkookie just didn't think he was ready, and as the others were attending as bachelors he wouldn't be able to hide away in his usual safe spaces. So the two stayed at the house for the evening.
Of course there are other faces you know among the crowd, acquaintances of your parents and friends of your husbands, the circles of the affluent known to be painfully small. It's not difficult to see the whispers spreading through the crowds as the guests confirm your identity to one another. Not even a year after your husbands passing and here you were making your first public appearance since as someone else's fiancé.
You are directed into a large ballroom, turns out a majority of the guest were already in side awaiting your grand arrival. Both doors sweep open and you are announced by Jessup.
"Please welcome our guests of honour. The future Mr. and Mrs. Kim Taehyung."
Applause sweeps through the room and Taehyung flinches as your finger nails dig into him through the suit jacket.
"Sorry," you whisper. But he brushes it off.
You greet people as you walk through the hall, nodding politely and acknowledging their congratulations, trying your best to just get to the front of the room, where Taehyung would address the room while you stand by and play your part. You almost make it too. Until two more familiar faces are stood in front of you
"Y/N, oh thank goodness you're okay." Your mom almost cries, embracing you.
Your father pats your mother's shoulder bringing her back to him and whispers something you don't quite catch.
"It's good to see you Y/N-ah," He says, "And a pleasure to meet you Taehyung," He bows slightly to the young man beside you.
"Father, mother," You bow to each of them in turn.
"I think perhaps we better find some time to catch up soon Y/N," Your father sounds calm, but you can see the fire in his eyes.
The same look he would have when you would try to sneak away in your youth.
They let you pass, allowing you to keep up pretences as Taehyung takes a microphone in one hand and holds your waist with the other. He raises a toast to you, alluding subtly to the others in the room and how much they mean to you. The guest follow suit, and finally you are allowed to disperse into the crowd. Immediately you make a beeline to the bathroom before any one has the chance to grab you attention away. Your parents and Namjoon all make brief attempts to capture you, but you're gone too quickly, blending in through the crowd in a way you had learned almost immediately after being introduced to society.
You find yourself back in Taehyung's bedroom before you have time to think about where you are running too. You flop back on to the bed and breathe for what feels like the first time in over an hour. Tears spring to your eyes as you come to terms with the revelation that your parents are there. Because of course they are, Taehyung's family agreed to the marriage because of your family name, not because of you. You felt stupid for not thinking it through.
But most of all you felt sad. 10 months away from them and you could see how it had aged your father, the creases on his forehead significantly deeper than the last time you'd seen him, and your mothers makeup barely covered the deep bags under her eyes from what you could only imagine were countless sleepless nights. You hadn't thought how your disappearing act would affect them, you just knew you couldn't be under there watchful eye again.
You stay flat on the bed, doing your best to deter the tears from ruining your makeup, determined to return to the party as quickly as you can compose yourself.
Before you get the chance to dab at your eyes, the door creaks open and your mother slips in to the room. So much for escaping them through the crowd. She takes one look at you, pathetically strewn across the bed and her features soften.
"Oh Y/N-ah, I've missed you," she says practically flying to your side.
She sits on the bed and pulls you up to sit with her, cradling you in her arms like she would've done when you were a child.
"How on earth did you end up here," She petted your hair, careful to follow the grain and not mess up your hair.
You let her coddle you for a moment, her embrace calming you in a way that only a parents can. You breathe deeply until you are certain tears are no longer threatening to spill.
"Mother, I'm so sorry I never called... after Romero... I just had to leave." You confess.
"It's okay darling, we have you back now, we can take you away from all this." She comforts, but you pull away.
"What do you mean take me away?"
"Take you home of course. You'll be far safer with us, clearly marriage was the wrong route, but your father and I will come up with another solution."
She natters away as you stare at her in disbelief. Even after all this time away, your mother and father still wanted to take you and hide you away from the world. After everything you have been through in the past year you can't quite believe that they still must not trust you to be able to take care of yourself.
"I'm not going home with you Mother." Your mom look shocked at your refusal. "I'm getting married and then I am going to continue living my life freely as I have these past months."
You explain the past few months to your mom, omitting the part about multiple partners of course. You tell her about the shelter, watch her flinch as you mention the incident with Lyra. You talk about the other men as if they are just your dearest friends. You even fill her in on how you met Taehyung, and what he has come to mean to you (She baulks when you mention you thought he was a mail boy and liked him anyway). Even with your new life life lain out before her, she still seems apprehensive to believe that you could possibly be okay. Okay on your own, okay with the life you have achieved for yourself without their influence.
"Y/N, this is ridiculous, you don't really know these men... and do they all have to be men... What if they are using you. You didn't leave the house much, you are so naive. You may not have been exposed to many people. But a lot of people must have seen you on magazines with Romero. Look at Taehyung for example. You told me he is marrying you for our name, he is using you."
"He didn't even know who I was when we met." You argue.
"That's just what he told you!" She counters "I'm sure this has all just been some elaborate way for the Kim family to garner more affluence for themselves. This boy doesn't care for you, he cares for nothing other than money it's been written all over the tabloids for years. Come home Y/N, it's not a request."
"I won't, even if what you said was true. I have a life now, other friends. I refuse to be locked away in your tower again."
"We didn't lock you away Y/N! We kept you safe, why can't you see that?" Your mother is close to tears.
"Because your version of safe is to never let me live at all,"
"You lived with your husband, Romero took you out regularly, what if we found you another match like him?"
"His prison was almost as bad as yours." A tear slips down your cheek, a perfect track in the perfect facade.
Your mother holds you then. The anger slips away into sorrow and she just holds you. Fortunately you prevent the other tears from spilling and once you compose yourself, your mother helps to cover the smudge on your face with her ever present powder compact.
You open the door just as Taehyung knocks on the other side, almost falling into one another. He takes one inquisitive look between you and your mother and thinks better of asking for now, instead taking your hand and leaning in to kiss your cheek.
"Everyone is looking for us love, they want to start the dancing, and they very much can't do that without you,"
"Sorry Tae," You do your best not to sniffle.
Your mother fixes him with a disdainful look, but says nothing as she walks on ahead of you through the hallways.
The first dance consists of Taehyung basically carrying you around the ballroom in time to a waltz as everyone peers at you. You spend a lot of the time staring over Taehyung's shoulder watching how the crowd leans into each other and whispers, most eyes on you but a few wander to your parents every so often.
You continue the evening relatively unscathed although your mother's word echo in your mind. Could Tae have had ulterior motives? You try to shake them away, because of course not, he had already agreed to a different marriage just to appease his family. But they do nothing to help your already torn up emotions.
Eventually you find some time in a dark corner where you are approached by Yoongi and Namjoon. Each take the brief opportunity yo squeeze your hand in support.
"Are they your parents?" Namjoon asks.
He subtly points in the direction of the older couple, they've been watching you like hawks the entire evening, worse even than your 16th birthday. You nod and their eyes go wide briefly. They seem to be quick to make the connection that this is the first contact you've had with them in a long time.
"Did you have any warning they would be here?" Yoongi questions.
"Nope... none at all"
"Are you okay?" Namjoon tries to reach for you in a way he might at home, before Yoongi quickly slaps his hand away.
"Gonna have to be," You put on a brave face.
"Well originally we had come over here to ask the bride to be for a dance... but it seems you are perhaps not in the mood?" Yoongi shrugs.
"No, lets dance maybe it'll help me escape here faster."
You take Yoongi's hand and the two of you dance for a while in the most platonic way you can manage. Eventually Namjoon cuts in, briefly stepping on your toes in the process. Jimin finds you later, lamenting about how romantic the party was and complaining that he couldn't dance with the majority of his loves, Yoongi takes him away to grab some passing as Jin continues your dance for the remainder of the song.
Finally guests begin to pull your attention away as they depart. Your parents wait only as long as would be seen appropriate and once they are gone the majority follow. The pack left swiftly, not wanting to encourage any scrutiny from Taehyung's family.
Taehyung's parents acknowledge you both warmly, seemingly unaware or uncaring of your parents disdain for the union they were pushing. They say good night and allow you to make your exit as the straggling guests file through the door.
It is slightly passed midnight as Taehyung pulls you into his arms and closes his bedroom door behind you.
"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?" He asked.
His hands land firmly on your waist and his lips lower to just below your ear, kissing the soft skin there.
"You did,"
"Good, now can I show you how beautiful you look?"
You're tempted to let him, his hands roam freely across the silky smooth fabric of the dress, but then the fatigue overwhelms you and you slump into his arms.
"Maybe tomorrow." You sigh.
He pulls back to look into your eyes, searching for something but decides better of asking more questions. Instead he leads you over to the vanity, helping you into the chair. Before you can question his actions he pulls make up remover from a drawer in front of you and carefully starts to apply it to your face. He wipes away at the thick layers of foundation until the cotton pads start to come away clean.
"There's my girl," He smiles at you.
You think you manage a sleepy smile in return but it's unclear. He presses his lips to yours briefly before moving on to taking all of the pins and volumizing apparatus from your hair. He massages your head gently as your tresses fall back into place. You moan as his finger untangle all the knots left behind.
"Can you stand up for me baby? I need to get you out of this dress too,"
You stand slowly, your feet suddenly protesting after having been stuck in heels the entire night. Stumbling you lean against Taehyung for support. He turns you in his arms and works on your dress backwards, undoing the buttons by looking over your shoulder instead.
Finally when the fabric drops to the floor, he sweeps you under your legs and carries you bridal style into his bed. You feel his absence as he walks away to get himself ready for bed, but you can hear him humming softly to himself as he moves around the room.
short and sweet. mild angst. inspired by billie eilish's 'what was i made for?'. dad!jimin au.
my masterlist!
｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆
jimin had watched his daughter grow up.
her face, round with youth and bright like the sunshine, had changed little in his eyes even though he knew that she wasn’t a baby anymore. in fact, she was exactly the age that you were when he met you, today.
looking at her, laughing with her friends in the living room while he sat at the kitchen counter, he couldn’t help but think back to how life was with you.
days that felt neverending, spent at the beach. wading through the cold water, all year round, even during the freezing winter when you would grumble about how it was way too cold for the sun to work, way too cold for you to tan the way you wanted to. regardless of what you said, he always managed to drag you into the ocean. not that it took too much convincing—he knew, deep down, that you had always been a lover of the sea. just like he was. it was something that had brought the two of you together.
other days, you would go to the cinema like teenagers always did, on first dates, and second dates, and whenever they weren’t sure of where else to go. you were a sucker for horror and even though jimin always had nightmares for days after watching one, he still went with you. anything to make you happy. (even if it traumatised him a bit...)
it had all ended far too fast. not even three months after the birth of your daughter, you were gone. the doctors had done everything they could to save you, but you were gone.
that was sixteen years ago, now. sixteen years ago, jimin had had no idea how he would raise his daughter without you, without his lover, his best friend, his rock.
“dad!”
pulled out of his thoughts, jimin met the gleaming eyes of his clever daughter and smiled, lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “soomin, what’s wrong?”
“we’re going out,” soomin responded with a bright grin, gesturing at her three friends, who had begun to pack up their things, “i’ll see you tonight. i’m so excited for your cake.”
jimin chuckled, silenced by how deeply her smile reminded him of you. how the way her left cheek dimpled was the way yours had. how her voice was as bright and beautiful as yours had always been.
“stay safe, soominie,” he said, patting her on the head, “i love you.”
she jokingly slapped at his hand for the pat, before heading out the door. jimin was left staring at the door, the house absent of sound.
Summary: That one story where you work as a stripper, meet Min Yoongi, fuck him, and cant forget him- but he cant remember you- so you fuck his friends to fuck the pain away.
Disclaimer: This story contains acts of sex,domestic violence!foul language, and self destructive motives. This may be triggering to some, please read at your own risk!
It's been exactly 3 months since you last saw Min Yoongi. Every night was the same. You would wait for him as if he promised to come back.
Every time you got on stage you hoped you would see him sitting in the crowd again. But every night he was absent. He was nowhere to be found. You were searching for no reason. Exhausting yourself over it, obsessing over it, for no reason.
Did you even have reason?
He was a client and you needed to understand that you couldn't have no attachment to him- but for some reason you found yourself attached to someone who fucked you for pay.
Typical.
Maybe, it was best that you wouldn't see him again. You were in way too deep. A one-night stand, from a man, that fucked you so good you just couldn't forget. What had this man even done to you to make you feel so obligated to have emotional attachment to him? Why were you so drawn to him?
Who was Min yoongi? And what had he done to you?
Was this what they called love at first sight? Was that electrical current you felt towards him a connection? Could he feel it too? He had to feel it too right?
You, day by day, kept racking your brain. It causing moments that you went out of your mind and entered space as you spaced out.
You know that feeling when you want something? That feeling after you get it and it just doesn't hit the spot? Unsatisfying? That's what you felt every time you thought about min yoongi. You weren't satisfied. You didn't get enough of him.
No, you hadn't forgot his name. And no, you haven't forgot his face, and you definitely haven't forgot his sex.
You found yourself every night fucking yourself thinking about him. You played all the scenes of your encounter in your head over and over. Especially up until the very last moment when he came and said he loved you. Even though it was all for pretend, the thought of that always seemed to get you going over the edge and Cumming, it was all the very thought of him that sent you.
Y/n," a voice had said but you hadn't even heard him.
Yoongi filled your thoughts. You were way strung out on coke. You were in another world right now.Nobody could tell you nothing.
You cocked your head to the side as his intoxicated face was in front of yours. Lust was evident in his eyes and you felt the invisible pull toward him. That feeling you got every time washing over you.
Hallucinating, seeing yoongi again was the epiphany of self destruction. It always had you so emotional after.
Yoongi smirked-
"Y/N!" You woke up out of your trance, yoongi disappearing like smoke.
You looked up from the couch you were sitting on waiting for your next vip client. Cesar had talked you into doing them again so here you were getting fucked to get paid again. But you wish none of them were fucking you. Only yoongi.
Your blood ran cold at the sight of GD. Aka Kwon Jinyong.
Your blood ran cold.
No, you thought.
"Is there a reason why you aren't answering my texts back?!" he strides over- you siting on the couch smoking a joint.
Your eyes became wide as he got closer.
You dropped the joint on the couch and scrambled to pick it up before it burnt a hole in the leather,It dropping to the floor.
"Fuck," you hissed as you tried to pick it up from the floor. it landed next to your platforms. So, you decided to step on it with them, your relaxation time ruined by the monster in front of you.
You literally have ignored him for three months. You didn't realize the time passing as your mind was somewhere else.
"I've been busy," you said not looking at him- not really wanting to. No, not after that last event with him.
GD was In all black looking like the gang-leader he was-is. He was glaring down at you you feeling the anger radiating of him.
"You were busy?" he spat, "I highly doubt that," he said glaring down at you.
You finally looked up at him meeting his angry form, "I was actually," you said pushing it further.
"Hmm," he scoffed throwing his head to the side. He looked back at you, "I don't believe that for one second."
"Well believe whatever you want to, -actually could you like leave?- I have a client in ten minutes he could be here any minute now." You said wanting to end this conversation short not wanting anything to do with him. Ever. Again.
He just stared at you you looking back at him.
Maybe it was the coke but you had clearly forgotten the capabilities of this man. Your mind seemed to have tucked it away somewhere. The true definition of losing your marbles.
He pulled his hand back and smacked the fuck out of you. GD smacking the marbles back in place. "NEVER! I MEAN NEVER! TALK TO ME AGAIN LIKE THAT!" You held your face your body thrown to the side from the sudden impact. "Look at me when im speaking to you!"
Still holding your face you looked up at him tears springing your eyes. Your body shaking in fear.and this was why you stayed away from him. This wasn't the first time.
GD watched you. His eyes looking for any sign of disobedience in you. He closed his eyes and inhaled, then slowly exhaled. "I've told you this baby, I told you not to make me mad. You know how I get," he said finally opening his eyes again staring down at your broken form.
And so broken you were.
You looked down not wanting to show the tears that were about to spill over your face.
"Please don't ever try to order me out again. I go.when I go."He spat.
You looked back up shaking. Tears finally slipping over your tear ducks and out onto your cheeks. You let go of your face and tried to regulate your breathing as you were on the verge of having a panic attack. You rested your hands between your thighs and clasped them tight trying to hold on a little while longer.
"you understand?" he said becoming annoyed with you again almost smacking you but he turned around and tried to calm himself.
You flinched waiting for the impact that never came. GD turned back around. His phone rang before he could Finnish your conversation.
You tried to hold yourself together biting the inside of your cheek.
"Okay," he hung up the phone, "I have some things to attend to,- but we will continue this conversation."
You nodded your head and he left. As he strolled to the door, -he ran into someone shoulder checking them, not looking back.
You hadn't noticed this. You looked down trying to gather yourself before your client came.
You tried to move but you felt paralyzed. You kept looking around franticly trying to stop the tears from coming. You had to be professional and presentable.
You finally breaking out of your trance you leaned over to the table knocking everything down as you scrambled for tissue paper. You grabbed it and wiped your eyes. It spreading your mascara. You looked at the tissue and realized this.
"Fuck," you cried breaking down. You tried to wipe your eyes, in the midst of doing that you spotted a figure at the corner of your eye and you whipped your head towards it and your breath caught in your throat.
Yoongi stood there at the base of the door watching you curiously. He was intoxicated. You could tell in his face. He had his soju in his hand and he looked just like he did 3 months ago when you had last seen him.
Finally. Finally, he had came back.
Only you didn't want to see him.no not after what just happened. You didn't want him to see you in a broken form. You didn't want him to see that side of you. You shouldn't have cared what he saw when he looked at you. You were supposed to be only a fuck for him.
But you did.
Of course, you did.
You quickly got up shutting your emotions off and getting into character. But Yoongi could see right through you. You couldn't fool him, he wasn't stupid. Plus the smeared mascara under your eyes said otherwise.
Shit had just went down, plus the way that guy left your room,- left Yoongi wondering more than he should have.
"Are you my 12 o'clock," you said. Your voice had a slight shake in it.
He didn't say anything, making you anxious. He studied you. Looking at you. Knowing something was off about you.
You stared back at him. Your façade slowly melting off. But still you tried to hold yourself down.
"Are you alright?" yoongi questioned finally, ignoring your question, answering your question with a question - and taking a drink of his soju. You were surprised by his question, and it had completely thrown you off Shaking you completely out of character. The façade rapidly melting off.
He stared intently at you waiting for you to answer, you having no way to change the subject. You were completely naked in front of him. You had nothing to hide under.
So what now?
"Yeah," you said lying, taking the easy way out. With nothing else more to say other than that. You couldn't tell him. So you lied. Even though he could see right through you as if you were made of glass, you tried to utterly get him to believe you were fine. You even were trying to convince yourself.
You didn't want to talk about it. It was nothing. To you it was nothing. nothing compared to the agony you've been feeling for the last three months. GD hitting you didn't even compare To the restless nights and longing to be in his presence.
So, the last thing you wanted to talk about was another man. You wanted to focus only on him.
"i think that's not factual." he said taking another drink. You didn't have anything to say so you stood there dumbfounded. As he stared at you. But when you didn't reply back, "yes I am your twelve o'clock but i don't think we should do anything. you clearly seem shaken up about something..." he looked out into the hallway from where GD had left.
"NO! no! I'm fine I promise!" you said coming closer to him. Yoongi stared at you, you hoped you didn't sound too desperate.
You were now standing directly in front of him. Your platforms making you slightly tower over him.
he reached out to touch your face," he ran a thumb over the skin." he hit you didn't he?"
You panicked!
You Somehow forgetting about it , the pain of your cheek coming back. You forgetting this, as you were trying to convince him otherwise. him making you forget life itself.
Your face had developed a bluish tint to where a bruise had started to form.
Your mind raced as his hand rested on your face. You leaned into it closing your eyes. You feeling some sort of warmth from it.
Yoongi dropped his hand to his side. "I may come back again," he said not sounding for sure or not. Making promises wasn't his thing.
Your heart broke into a million pieces. You. Couldn't. Wait. Another. Three. Months. No, this was now or never. This wasn't about to end on a worse note than you already had started.
You both stared at each other. An electric current connecting you to him. "don't go you started to cry." you were breaking the rules. You were being desperate. Now not caring at all.
Now it was his turn to lose his façade His eyes widening in shock.
"I mean im okay you don't-" but you couldn't explain your reasoning. This was the first time seeing him in three months he couldn't just go like that. Not when you anticipated his return so eagerly.
Still he didn't say anything, he just watched you, waiting to see what else might come out your mouth. You hesitated but eventually "just help me forget," you said talking about him smacking you."pretend to love me this time.... even if its just for tonight." you said repeating his words from three months ago.
You waited for his reaction but he just stared at you. Your face heated up knowing you would be rejected. You were way out of place asking for such a request knowing he was the one paying you not the other way around.
Moments went by, silence engulfed you both. You both never broke eye contact. He took another drink of his soju his eyes fixated solely on you. He stepped over the threshold, your heart beating fast at the anticipation of what was happening. Coming straight towards you never breaking your eye contact
He backed you towards the couch and he put the soju down on the table all while still staring at you. He laid you down on the couch and he began kissing your body. He got up and closed the door and locked it an you watched him.
You squeezed your legs shut as your beautiful body waited for him on the couch. You were throbbing for him and it was too much to take.
He came back and opened your thighs making you whine.
Your stomach had butterflies in them and every time he touched you, you would shutter in its wake.
He got on top of you and kissed your neck leaving fresh new love bites on them. You whined when he did this. You grabbed him around his neck and kissed him there. You earned a groan from him and it excited you. You decided that you would step out of place and do everything to him you wanted just in case you never seen him again.
You grabbed his face and crashed your lips to his. He was surprised but he responded. He lost control as the kiss deepened and your heart nearly stoped.
He broke the kiss and kissed your collar bone, kissing you above your breast and so on, till he got to your woman hood. He slid your panties to your lingerie set to the side and took your clit in his mouth.
You whined. He was also stepping out of place. You were there to please him. Not him to please you. You weren't supposed to receive oral sex from your client, you were there to do it for him.
He shoved to finger in you and you lost it. You coming undone right beneath him. He sucked your clit and fingered you trying to get you off. Nothing but your cries filled the room.
When you came you nearly screamed. He held your hands from trying to push him away but you were so sensitive you couldn't take it. But then he made you cum again, -and you were sure your body would lose its soul. Your toes curling at the feeling he was giving you.
Yoongi hovered over you and pulled your boobs out of the baby doll. Kneading then softly making you twitch with every touch. Your whole body sensitive from his touch, it knowing what he was capable of,- making you cum. You came so hard for him.
He stood up and pulled his pants down to his thighs all while watching you and grabbed a condom off the table. He rolled it on and then hovered over you. He lined up with your entrance and then shoved into you.
You cried out. So sensitive already it feeling so intense as he fucked you.
He came down onto you, you grabbed him close. " I love you,” he whispered. And there it went, your soul left your body. He left kisses on your neck and surprisingly initiated the kiss. You responding quickly. He broke the kiss and watched as he fucked you, your eyes closed and whining beneath him.
He like you like that.
Yoongi pulled you up so you could sit on his lap and grabbed you by your waist and bouncing you up and down off him. You cried out and your tits bounced with the rhythm. You were so sexy to him it was dangerous. He could fall for a girl like you, but he wouldn't allow it.
Yoongi told you that he loved you again, and you whined when he fucked you harder. You finally told him you loved him back and he groaned when it left your lips, - him crashing his lips to yours again.
You wrapped your arms around his neck again and you humped the shit out of him. Yoongi entangled his arms from you and grabbed your face as you guys kissed. It being a little too intimate. You putting all your feelings into it and him?
You didn't know.
"You love me?" he said after he broke the kiss?
You shook your head yes
"Tell me."
"I love you," you breathed, igniting his intense orgasm.
He stiffened inside of you emptying his frustrations into you.
You came with him and that third strike took you out. You screamed his name this time and collapsed on his chest. With your head on his shoulder grabbing him tightly. And you just stayed like that. you clinging to him and crying.
He rubbed your back and you stayed like that. Just listening to each other's breathing. You didn't want this to end. You didn't want to NOT see him anymore.
You needed this person in your life.there was just something about him. You needed him. You craved him. Longed for him.
Yoongi had became such an important part of your life and you didn't ask for it just happened.
You never experienced love before but the feeling you had when you were with him showed you otherwise.
Tears slightly ran down your face, you not wanting to face the reality that was and is Yoongi.
He was your client nothing more but you just didn't want to accept it.
He kissed your neck softly and you whined at the contact. He was still inside of you but he had started to soften.
You didn't want to move so you waited for him to. He didn't.
Yoongi didn't want to leave either. He felt weird around you and he didn't know why. He didn't like to think about it. He didn't want to figure it out. He was afraid of the outcome.
He contemplated even coming back in the first place and this was what he was afraid of. He was afraid of you. You scared him. You could unlock things he kept away. You seemed to break through to him penetrating through the intoxication he used as a mask.
